“The benefits of being fat, my friend,” Father Fortis replied. So Stanos was in custody or maybe dead. “When did you catch him?” he asked, looking toward the window.
“Sunday. Not long after he shot you.”
“Sunday. What day is it today?”
“Thursday,” Allyson offered.
“Really?” He’d been aware of being conscious several times, but never long enough to know anything except that he was in a hospital. Four days ago. He looked up again and caught Worthy’s eye. “So Mrs. Filis has been buried.”
Worthy nodded. “I wasn’t sure you knew about her.”
“I remember coming to when the paramedics were working on me in the office. I heard one of them say she was gone. That’s going to haunt me, my friend.”
Worthy reached over and touched his friend’s hand. “Why am I not surprised you’d feel that way? Listen, Nick, if it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”
Father Fortis watched Allyson as she looked over to search her father’s face. Did they know how much the two of them looked alike? He took another breath and felt the wall again. “I don’t see how it could be your fault.”
“I’m the cop, so I know. It’s simple. If I’d figured out your voicemail ten minutes earlier, I’d have gotten there about the same time she did. I could have prevented it.”
“Or you could have been shot, too,” Allyson said.
“She’s right, my friend. Anyway, my message was all wrong,” Father Fortis protested. “There was no clue.”
“That’s not exactly right, Nick,” Allyson said. “He pulled me out of this great movie. Okay, it was a stupid movie. But Dad had a bad feeling the killer might have set you up.” She looked up again at her father. “Once again, you were right.”
“Oh, your father is amazing, my dear.”
Worthy cleared his throat. “It’s easy to forget that Stanos chose to kill the old woman, though I can’t for the life of me figure out why he wanted her there. I mean, you I understand. But why’d he lure her back?”
“But he didn’t want her there. And I’m not sure he meant to kill anyone that day. My stunt in the Sunday morning liturgy scared him, but he came to tell me why he had to kill Father Spiro.”
“Had to kill him?” Worthy asked.
“Not exactly a confession, I admit. He seemed to believe that if I understood the truth—at least as he saw it—I’d keep his secret.”
“But he shot you,” Allyson protested.
“But did he want to? No, the gun was there to make sure he’d keep the upper hand. Mrs. Filis, may her memory be eternal, shouldn’t have even been there.”
“Then why’d she come?” Allyson asked.
Father Fortis shook his head slowly, still wondering if there was something he could have done to save her. “Christopher, do you remember what the first clue was that pointed to the killer being someone from the parish?”
“Sure. It was the way Stanos straightened the vestment on Father Spiro after he killed him.”
“And what if Stanos hadn’t done that, my friend?”
Worthy was silent for a moment. “I’d probably have gone with Sherrod’s robbery angle.”
“Exactly.” Father Fortis took another deep breath. “You see, Stanos didn’t straighten the epitrachelion after all.”
“Mrs. Filis did,” Allyson said, almost in a whisper.
“Wait a minute,” Worthy protested. “She told Sherrod she hadn’t touched the body.”
“I know, my friend, but maybe at the time she didn’t remember what she’d done.”
“Shock?” Allyson offered.
“Or maybe Sherrod scared the hell out of her,” Worthy added.
“We’ll never know, but that’s what she wanted to tell me Sunday afternoon. Apparently, she tried to tell me that morning, but she missed me in my office.”
Worthy looked puzzled. “She tried to see you after the service?”
Father Fortis nodded. “That’s what she said. Why?”
“Because that’s when I was in your office waiting for you. I heard someone at the door. I think they tried to turn the knob. Anyway, that’s what I remembered when I was in the movie with Ally. I thought it must have been the killer. I thought he or she’d try another way to get to you.”
“Like inventing the story of the other woman’s stroke,” Allyson mused. “So it was Mrs. Filis who really put you on the right trail.”
Father Fortis considered Allyson’s perspective. In a way, wasn’t she right? And that brought another thought to mind.
“The code in the diary, Christopher. I was wrong about that, too.”
“I can’t see how, Nick.”
“If Father Spiro had really meant the code to be unbreakable, wouldn’t he have used only Greek letters to make it even harder to decipher? But he used both English and Greek, as if he expected, one day—”
“That someone like a cop with no Greek might need to understand it,” Worthy finished the sentence.
“Mysterious are the ways of God, my friend.”
“God, the trickster, right?” Allyson asked.
Father Fortis was puzzled by the odd term. “Trickster? I guess God may seem that way sometimes. And Stanos would agree. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on his face when he was behind the door and heard Mrs. Filis explain about the epitrachelion. That was the first moment I saw murder in his eyes. Christopher, I notice you haven’t said if he’s alive or dead.”
“Sorry, Nick. He’s alive, but not saying much. He’s probably thinking about this same thing. How Mrs. Filis ruined all his careful plans.”
Father Fortis nodded. “ ‘Ruined his plans.’ Yes, that’s how he would see it. He called Father Spiro an old senile priest who was out to ruin his life.”
“Stanos is listening to his lawyer and not saying anything, though he didn’t expect you to survive. Why did he kill Father Spiro?”
“Ah, I’ll give you a couple of the puzzle pieces. The pain of NISP was caused by GESP.”
“You’ve lost me,” Allyson said. “Is that part of the code?”
“Yes, it is. ‘The pain of NISP was caused by GESP,’ ” Worthy repeated. “That was the boy worried about his sexuality, right? If Stanos was GESP, that means there was something to that.”
Father Fortis frowned. “He’s trained the altar boys for years. Apparently, he got closer to this boy than to the others. I’m not sure what really happened, but Father Spiro thought he knew and confronted him on it. And then Father Spiro said he felt morally responsible to tell the college authorities in case—”
“In case Stanos was a predator over at Allgemein as well,” Worthy again finished the thought.
Allyson patted the priest’s leg. “Nick? Do you want me to tell you the real reason you didn’t die?”
Father Fortis’ eyebrows arched. “Please do, my dear.”
“Because my Dad would go nuts if he couldn’t solve the puzzle. He was pretty miserable to be around this week, even though his picture was on the front pages for two straight days.”
“Not just mine. Henderson’s and Nick’s, too,” Worthy interrupted.
Father Fortis rolled his eyes.
“You want to know what’s ironic, Nick? The story accompanying the photo was written by Kenna McCarty. Unlike Sherrod, who is licking his wounds, Kenna McCarty came out looking good. Thanks to Henderson’s willingness to share some of the lesser-known details of the case with her, the reporter got her scoop after all.”
“What does your captain say?” Father Fortis asked.
“Captain Betts is harder to read,” Worthy replied. “I know she’s grateful she didn’t make the mistake of giving the case back to Sherrod. And I can tell she’s genuinely pleased that Henderson can stay on the job, at least for the time being. But my guess is that Captain Betts also knows that she’s made an enemy of Sherrod. Rather than admit his approach would have let Stanos off the hook to maybe kill again, Sherrod will accuse her of robbing him of the credit for
solving the case.”
“My dad may be a big shot again,” Allyson said, “but he wouldn’t be satisfied until he knew why Mrs. Filis was there, and Stanos sure wasn’t talking.”
“The man is clever, and he’s got a good lawyer, I’m sure,” Father Fortis said. “So I’m happy to know my survival is helpful. Be sure you tell the metropolitan. Speaking of the metropolitan, the dear folks at St. Cosmas are going to need a priest now more than ever. The grief over their murdered priest is now compounded by the death of Mrs. Filis and the arrest of one of the parish’s most prominent members. I wonder if the metropolitan would see the wisdom of bringing Father Daniel back to St. Cosmas, at least temporarily?”
“Not your problem to fix, Nick,” Worthy reminded his friend.
“Of course, you’re right,” Father Fortis agreed. “Now, I believe I feel a nap coming on. But before you two go, I want to apologize, my dear, for … how should I put it? I guess the best way to express my feelings is to say that I’m grateful you saved my life, but I’m sorry you had to see all the blood in that room.”
Worthy sighed heavily, shaking his head at Father Fortis.
“Did I say something wrong?” the priest asked.
“No, Nick. It’s just that I’ve been trying to tell her the same thing all week. I was worried she’d be traumatized, but all she’s been doing is smiling a lot.”
Allyson blushed. “You should know by now that I have my secrets.”
“Just no more big surprises. I don’t think your mother or I could take it.”
“Well, I guess it will seem like a surprise. Maybe to you more than Mom.”
“Another mystery to solve, my friend,” Father Fortis said. He could see that Allyson was making no moves to change the conversation. Did she want her Dad to know?
“So what clues has Ally left you?” Father Fortis asked.
“Maybe you’re one of the clues,” Allyson said with a smile, looking down at Father Fortis.
“Me? Well, now. I don’t think it has to do with an interest in the priesthood. We Orthodox aren’t that progressive.”
“I suppose it’s too much to hope that you’ve decided to go to college after all to become a doctor,” Worthy added.
“Please. With my grades in chemistry? But you’re warm.”
“So it has to do with going to college,” Father Fortis posed.
Allyson nodded. “Dad’s not going to get it, Nick.”
“Oh, Lord. Is this what I think it is?”
“Okay. I’m lost,” Worthy confessed. “Though I’m happy you’re going to college.”
“Think, my friend. What’s been new between the two of you over the last few weeks.”
“You mean besides all your questions?” Worthy asked, looking at his daughter.
“God, you’re so dense sometimes,” Allyson said.
Worthy’s mouth dropped. “No, it can’t be. I thought you were just interested in your old man.”
“I don’t know whether to offer my sympathies or congratulations, Christopher. Your daughter wants to study criminology.”
Worthy groaned. “Nick’s wrong, isn’t he?”
“Oh, come on. Why not?” Allyson asked, looking from her father down to his closest friend. “The way it looks to me, life is just a bunch of puzzles. Why not get paid to solve a few of them?”
* * *
Photo by Leif Carlson
David Carlson was born in the western suburbs of Chicago and grew up in parsonages in various cities of Illinois. His grade school years were spent in Springfield, Illinois, where the numerous Abraham Lincoln sites initiated his lifelong love of history. His childhood hope was to play professional baseball, a dream that died ignominiously one day in high school.
He attended Wheaton College (Illinois) where he majored in political science and planned on going to law school. Not sure how to respond to the Vietnam War, he decided to attend seminary for a year to weigh his options. To his surprise, he fell in love with theological thinking—especially theological questioning—and his career plan shifted to college teaching in religious studies. He earned a doctorate at University of Aberdeen, Scotland, where he learned that research is a process of digging and then digging deeper. He believes the same process of digging and digging deeper has helped him in his nonfiction and mystery writing.
Franklin College, a traditional liberal arts college in central Indiana, has been his home for the past thirty-eight years. David has been particularly attracted to the topics of faith development, Catholic-Orthodox relations, and Muslim-Christian dialogue. In the last thirteen years, however, religious terrorism has become his area of specialty. In 2007, he conducted interviews across the country in monasteries and convents about monastic responses to 9/11 and religious terrorism. The book based on that experience, Peace Be with You: Monastic Wisdom for a Terror-Filled World, was published in 2011 by Thomas Nelson and was selected as one of the Best Books of 2011 in the area of Spiritual Living by Library Journal.
Much of his time in the last three years has been spent giving talks as well as being interviewed on radio and TV about ISIS. Nevertheless, he is still able to spend summers in Wisconsin where he enjoys sailing, fishing, kayaking, and restoring an old log cabin.
His wife, Kathy, is a retired English professor, an award-winning artist, and an excellent editor. Their two sons took parental advice to follow their passions. The older, Leif, is a photographer, and the younger, Marten, is a filmmaker.
Let the Dead Bury the Dead is the second in the Christopher Worthy/Father Fortis mystery series, which began with Enter by the Narrow Gate. Carlson’s second book on religious extremism, Countering Religious Violence: The Healing Power of Spiritual Friendships, will be released by New City Press in 2017.
For more information, please visit:
www.DavidCCarlson.org.
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