Chapter Eleven
I huffed out of the police department into the bright morning light, catching the attention of pedestrians with prayer books in their hands and dressed in their Sunday best. I smiled and walked among them toward the Cathedral and eleven o’clock mass, wondering when I last attended church. I couldn’t remember and decided now was as good a time to renew my faith. Maybe He could give me the answers I sought. If He couldn’t, I’d manage on my own.
On the two-block walk, I fished my cell from my backpack and called Amy. She answered on the second ring.
“Hi, sweetie,” I said. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m going stir-crazy, Josie. I need to get out of this place before I lose my mind. Please, please, bust me loose, Jos.”
Amy was much like me – impatient. Unable to wait for due process, she usually made things happen. With the proper motivation, she could wrangle a snake out of its skin.
“Amy – ”
“Please, Jos. The food sucks and so does housekeeping. I changed my own bed this morning and these nightshirts are the twenties. Please, Jos, talk to my doctor. See if you can’t convince him to spring me earlier than Friday. I know how persuasive you can be.”
To avoid an unwinnable argument, I said, “I’ll see what I can do.”
“Super. I can always count on you. Now, tell me what’s got you down.”
I could never hide anything from her. She always seemed to know my feelings better than I.
“I apologized to Jackson yesterday.”
“Tell me everything,” Amy said.
In my mind, I pictured her throwing aside the sterile white bed sheet and sitting cross-legged on the bed, her hand pressing the telephone hard against her ear as though that would make her closer to me.
I found a doorway sheltered from the sun and sat on the top step, making myself comfortable.
Twenty minutes later, I ended with, “And that’s when I called you.”
“Don’t trust Vail,” she said. “Oops, I’ll have to talk to you later. Dr. Coville and a bunch of doctors-in-training are here.”
Making a mental note to bring Amy clothes from her apartment, I closed my cell and stood. A car driving past caught my attention. I should say, the passenger in the black BMW captured my gaze, just as she’d done in Carlisle Antiques Friday evening. I’d recognize those burnished copper curls anywhere.
The driver stopped for a red light at the intersection.
Weaving around pedestrians, I hurried toward the car. I was close enough now to make out the license plate: ANTIQUES. I studied the back of the driver’s head and realized I knew the driver, as well. Neither one of them would blend in easily in a crowd.
What were Trish and Jackson doing together on a Sunday morning? Trish said she would wait for me at Amy’s.
Something wasn’t kosher. I suspected they were in cahoots and I was the mark.
It could be something different, but I doubted it.
Again, Jackson had set me up.
This time, for murder.
I wondered whether they saw me. Probably not. The alcove where I’d sat sheltered me from the public. Still, though, if they’d been looking…My cell rang. I took the phone from my backpack. I checked call display and flipped over the cover.
“Hi, Amy.”
“So, who do you think killed the vet?” she asked without preamble.
I could hear the excitement in her voice. “I’d probably have an opinion if I could remember last night.”
“Bummer, huh? Not knowing what you did and who you did it with. I can’t imagine. I remember every one of my sexual experiences.” She paused. “That’s strange. The bad experiences leapt to the front. Why is that?”
“What?”
“That we remember the bad more vividly.”
“It strikes a deeper impression.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know, Amy. Why do we bad talk someone rather than say something nice?”
“Jealously. Revenge. Hate.”
“It’s probably our way of learning not to repeat our mistakes.”
Amy sighed. “I keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. I’ve had lovers who didn’t need me in bed at all, they were so in love with themselves.”
I neared the Cathedral. “I’d like to continue this conversation, but at another time. Mass is about to begin.”
“You’re going to church? Jos, is there something you’re not telling me? You’re not sick, are you? Oh please God, don’t tell me you’re sick.”
“Amy, slow down. I’m fine. Father Francis is the priest at the Cathedral.”
“So?”
“He was also at Jackson’s camp last night.”
“Oh. You planning on talking to him?”
“I am.”
“Good luck. Call me later.”
“Will do.” I closed my phone and shoved it in the pocket of my jeans.
Eleven o’clock mass turned out to be ten o’clock mass and those hordes of parishioners I’d guessed rushed to get a good pew were either on their way toward the coffee shop or catching the last thirty minutes of Sunday mass.
According to the schedule posted on the billboard at the entrance to the church, daily Sunday mass, in the singular, was now at ten o’clock and Saturday mass, which served as Sunday mass, was at four o’clock rather than at five.
I walked into the church. My years of nonattendance came down on me like only guilt could. I dipped my fingers in holy water and signed the cross, surprising myself I remembered how, then took a seat in a pew at the back.
The churchgoers had left. A blond-haired young man about twelve refreshed the altar with clean linens. A moment after he exited through the side door to the vestry, Father Francis, disrobed and dressed in black trousers and shirt sans tie, came through a door on the opposite side. If anyone would tell me the truth about my activities last night, I figured a priest would. To catch his attention, I cleared my throat. As I anticipated, he peered toward the source of the noise. When his gaze found me, I smiled.
It took a moment for him to recognize me.
He walked around the altar, turned and genuflected.
I met him halfway down the aisle. Father Francis didn’t resemble the image in my mind. Last evening, I found him short, overweight and serious-minded. Now, I saw him for the medium built, honorable man and devout priest he was.
“Hello, Father,” I said, smiling.
He returned my smile. “How nice of you to attend my mass.”
“Er...I didn’t...I wasn’t...”
“I know. Just poking fun.”
I relaxed. “There’s a wee bit of the devil in you,” I said, chuckling. “You had me for a moment.”
“I get a lot of people that way. Are you here to reaffirm your faith in our God, or are you here to grill me on the goings-on last night at Jackson’s camp?”
I opened my mouth, then snapped it closed when he held a finger against his temple and closed his eyes. Wondering what the old priest was up to this time, I watched him.
“Just a sec,” he said. “The answer is coming to me...coming...” He smiled. “Oh yes. The latter. Having some memory loss, huh?”
Father must be a hoot at a party. If I could remember last night, I’d know that firsthand.
“You heard?” I asked.
“About Thomas?”
I nodded. “Such a shame. He seemed a really nice man.”
“He’s with our Savior now.”
“Have the police contacted you?”
“Not yet.”
“Then how did you find out?”
“Jackson called me.”
“Oh.” Jackson thought to let a priest know and not me, the woman who he apparently liked to kiss. Then I remembered Trish and Jackson in his car.
It could mean nothing.
It could mean everything.
“I imagine the police will be getting in touch with me some time today,” he said.
The po
lice would undoubtedly show Father more courtesy than they had me. For one, they wouldn’t haul his ass downtown. They’d ask and be courteous when they did, unlike me.
“You’re here to do the same, I suspect,” Father said, his knowing eyes studying mine.
I smiled. “But not as diplomatically as they will.”
“Nonsense.”
“This is foreign to me.” I swept my hand in a wide arc, darting from one statue to the next, past the Stations of the Cross and stained glass windows.
“Time is irrelevant in the eyes of Our Lord. He will embrace you and welcome you back in His arms.”
“Thank you for saying, Father, but that’s not what I meant. I was talking about relationships and interaction with people.” My youth flashed before my eyes – kids ridiculing me, snickering behind my back and calling me names, their hands cupping their mouths as they whispered cruel stories. Hey, pig snout. Here suey suey suey. This little piggy went to market... I wasn’t ugly and my nose wasn’t large or hideous. I know it now.
“Is it nature to scorn those who have wronged us?” Nothing changed inside me. I was the same person today I always was. I thought more on that and decided it wasn’t true. Everything about me was different. My hair, my face, my demeanor, but most of all, my approachability. Two weeks ago, if the purpose weren’t job-related, I wouldn’t have carried on a conversation with anyone, even a priest, let alone seek them out. Self-confidence made it possible for me. I should have made myself over long before this, less the drama of the last few days, of course.
Father took a moment to answer. “For some.”
I agreed. “Tell me what happened last night. If I murdered Thomas – ”
“Why would you think that?”
I grimaced, remembering my revenge on Jackson, and the blood on my hands this morning.
“I’ve changed.” I ran my hand through my hair, then smoothed a finger over my brow.
“In here,” he rested a bony hand against his heart, “you haven’t. A new look doesn’t change who you are inside.”
Obviously, I’d told Father Francis about my makeover. Nothing was sacred to me anymore. I wondered what else I’d babbled last night to a roomful of men.
“It did me.”
“For the better, don’t you think?”
“How well do you know Jackson?” Father Francis peered at me, as though he awaited the imperative question – the one I didn’t know how to phrase – before he answered. “Is he capable of…” I hesitated.
“Murder,” Father considerately filled in for me. Strange, but that Jackson might be the killer the police sought had never occurred to me until now, which didn’t make sense. Since I’d entertained the possibility that Jackson had set me up for murder, it should also have struck me, subliminally or otherwise, that he killed Thomas.
Father’s trouser pocket sang Boot Scootin’ Boogie. He shook his head. “Young Robbie is having fun with me again. Dennis the Menace has nothing on this child, believe me. Excuse me a moment, Josie.”
“Certainly, Father.” I watched him walk toward the altar. A moment later, he closed his cell and walked back to me. “The law has caught up to me. Lieutenant Vail will be here in ten minutes.”
“I should go. He might misconstrue our meeting.”
“He might.” Father turned thoughtful. I became suspicious, not knowing who to trust. “If there’s something I should know, please tell me.”
He smiled. “Peace be with you, Josie.”
“And with you, Father.”
“Now scoot out the side door while the getting’s good.”
Outside, squinting against the bright sun, I smacked into Jackson.
An Equal Measure Page 14
