A Tear in the Sky - 03

by Joseph Nassise

  It also explained why Martin had sent a note to Cade rather than bringing in the usual authorities. The police could do little against one of the shadows. Bringing in the local authorities would only end with innocent people dead. Rather than do that, Martin reached out to those who’d saved him once before; the secret, militant arm of the Mother Church.

  Cade felt a growing sense of urgency settle over him.

  They climbed into the SUV assigned to them and got underway. Riley drove, with Cade riding shotgun and Olsen and Riley in the back seat. The rear of the truck was packed with a variety of gear bags and hidden in the secret compartment beneath them, the team’s firearms.

  They made good time, straight up 95 into the suburbs of the city, where they switched over to Route 93 that took them into the city proper. Once there, they got off highway and cruised into the streets of South Boston.

  A predominantly Irish, blue collar neighborhood, South Boston was as well known for its St. Patrick’s Day celebrations as it was for its high crime rate. The Irish mob had ruled the streets for so long that even when their leadership crumbled in the face of multiple FBI investigations in the mid-90s very little had changed for the people on the streets. Life went on, just as it always had, and eventually someone else stepped up and to take the reigns of power, just as they always had and always would.

  Cade had patrolled the area as a young beat cop. This was when he’d first come to know Father Martin. Cade had answered more than his share of operation calls in the neighborhood during his time on the Special Tactics and Operations Team, or STOP. He’d been back once or twice during his years with the Order, but little ever changed in Southie and it felt like only yesterday that he’d left.

  As they neared the church, they could see a squad car parked in the driveway of the rectory.

  “Keep going past the church and park farther down the street,” Cade said and Riley obeyed. As they drove past Cade could see a uniformed officer sitting in the front seat of the squad car and the telltale yellow crime scene tape stretched across the front door of the rectory confirmed his worst suspicions.

  It appeared they were too late.

  Riley found an open spot a few blocks away, pulled in and turned the engine off.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  Cade gave it some thought. Having the four of them suddenly appear on the rectory doorstep was a bad idea, particularly if something untoward had happened to Father Martin. Cade decided to take Duncan and walk back past the church to see if they could get the uniform to tell them anything useful.

  The two of them got out of the car, turning their collars up against the chill breeze, and headed off in the direction of the church. They hadn’t gone half a block before Cade caught sight of a foursome moving down the street toward them, three men and a woman, and he pointed them out to Duncan. The men were dressed in the black pants and shirts of the clergy and the woman wore the deep blue habit of a Catholic nun.

  “Let’s see if we can get a bit of information,” he said.

  As they got closer, Cade stepped out and raised his hand in greeting. “Excuse me? Father?”

  “Yes?” As he responded to Cade, the older of the two men stepped out in front of the other three, as if getting ready to protect them, and Cade noted how all four immediately tensed at his approach. Easy or you’ll spook them, he thought.

  “I was hoping you could help me. I’m looking for Father Martin. Can you tell me if he’s still assigned to this parish?”

  The nun, a young woman who couldn’t have been older than her mid-twenties, raised a hand to cover her mouth and Cade felt the level of tension among the group go up dramatically.

  The priest’s eyes narrowed as he looked at Cade. “And what would you be wanting with Father Martin?” he asked, the hint of an accent creeping into his voice as a result of the stress.

  Cade tried to look as non-threatening as possible. “It’s been a few years, but Father Tom officiated at my wedding. I was back in town on business and thought I’d stop by and say hello.” Cade pointed back up the street. “But the police car in the driveway made me think this might not be the best time to drop in for a visit. Has something happened?”

  The group relaxed and the senior priest finally extended a hand. “I’m Father O”Malley, son, from St. Judes, a few streets over.”

  “Jake Caruso,” Cade said, without hesitation, and then introduced Duncan as his friend, Michael Simpson.

  “I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news, Jake. Father Tom passed away last night.”

  Cade did his best to look shocked, all the while inwardly cursing this confirmation of his suspicions. “What happened?”

  The younger of the three men spoke up. “Some street punk broke in and…”

  O’Malley held up a hand, silencing the other. “Watch your tongue, Phillip. What will Sister Margaret think of such language?”

  “Sister Margaret happens to agree with him,” the young nun answered, much to both Cade and Duncan’s surprise. “And I know you do, too. So tell the man what he needs to know and let’s all get out of this cold.”

  O’Malley sighed, and Cade could hear the unspoken apology in the expression. The man was clearly old school and he apparently felt Cade was cut from the same cloth.

  “I’m sorry to have to tell you that Father Tom was killed last night during a burglary. Police say he must have surprised the intruder in the midst of the crime and the man panicked, resulting in Father Tom’s death.

  The younger priest cut in again. “He stabbed him with a butcher knife eight times and then left him to bleed to death on the kitchen floor. I hope he rots in hell.” His voice cracked and Cade saw the suggestion of tears in his eyes before the man turned away. Sister Margaret put her arms around him and talked to him in a voice too low for Cade to hear.

  “Do the police have any idea who did it?” Cade asked.

  O’Malley shook his head. “Not yet, but I’m confident that Detective Burke will find the culprit before long.”

  “Detective Joseph Burke?”

  O’Malley seemed surprised. “Yes, that’s the one. Do you know him?”

  “Another old friend from the neighborhood. I guess we never really stray far from our roots, do we, Father?”

  The priest nodded. “That’s true, Mr. Caruso, very true.”

  They spent a few more minutes talking and then Cade thanked them for their time and let them continue on their way. He waited until they had moved out of sight before walking back to the truck with Duncan and letting the others know what they’d discovered.

  “So you know this guy, Burke?” Riley asked.

  Cade nodded. “He worked Bunko when I was with Homicide. We did a few task forces together. Decent guy overall. Takes the job a bit too lightly for my taste, but he was never a bad cop.”

  Olsen spoke up from the back seat. “Think he’ll help us?”

  “Only one way to find out,” Cade replied.

  He took out his cell phone and dialed a number.

  “Detective Burke, please” he said to the woman who answered.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Cade stepped inside the diner and looked around. Burke, a heavy set man with a close-cropped shock of white hair that always made Cade think of the white apes of Barsoom, waved to him from a seat in the back corner. Cade threaded his way through the other diners and slid into the booth opposite. The two men shook hands.

  “Good to see ya, Williams. How are the Feds treating ya these days?”

  Shortly after Cade had left the force, Burke had come under the mistaken impression that Cade worked for a super secret arm of the federal government, the NSA or the DIA, something along those lines, and Cade had never disabused him of the notion. It had been helpful to have someone on the inside over the years and right now, Burke was their best chance of getting a line on what was going on.

  “Good as can be expected, I guess,” Cade answered, as he signaled the waitress for a cup of coffee. “Thanks for meeting me.�
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  “No problem.” He waited until the waitress had brought Cade’s coffee, refilled Burke’s own, and walked over to take care of another customer at a different table before continuing. “You here about that priest down in Southie?”

  “Yeah. Word on the street says it was a burglary gone sideways?”

  Burke nodded. “Damnedest thing, too. I mean, the guy was old, right? All the perp had to do was push him out of the way. Instead he grabs a butcher knife from the block in the kitchen and stabs the guy to death.” The detective took a sip of his coffee. “Professional interest?” he asked.

  “Nah. Personal. I knew Father Martin from back in the day. Used to see him at church when I was a kid. He came to see me at the Deaconess a few times, during my recovery.”

  He knew he didn’t have to explain just what he was recovering from; for a cop who’d known him as long as Burke had, there could be only one incident he was referring to, the assault on Cade and his wife by the Dorchester Demon seven years ago. “Last I’d heard he’d retired.”

  Burke nodded. “Retired from the hospital, but not from active ministry. He went back to working as the assistant pastor at St. John the Divine, back where he started all those years ago.” He picked up a dark folder from the seat beside him, looked at it without speaking for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. He passed the folder to Cade. “Figured this was what you were calling about, so I brought the file.”

  Cade opened the folder and a deep sense of trepidation unfolded in his gut. He hadn’t known Thomas well, but the man had been kind to him in a time when kindness was more precious than life itself and so he’d always had a soft place in his heart for the tough old soldier of Christ. Inside were several 8.5 x 11 full-color photos. The first showed Martin where he had fallen on the floor of rectory kitchen, his blood staining the cracked linoleum and his face turned toward the camera as if his unseeing eyes were staring deep into the lens. The black handle of a carving knife protruded from his back. The second was a closer view of Father Martin’s back, showing several slashes in the fabric of his shirt, evidence of other entrance wounds. Cade counted ten without even trying.

  The other photos showed the body from various angles, but didn’t give him anything new.

  “Any witnesses?”

  Burke shook his head. “The rectory houses two other priests, but both were away at an archdiocesan conference and the housekeeper had the weekend off. She was the one who found him when she came in this morning.”

  “How about trace evidence?”

  “I’m still waiting for a few tests to come back from forensics, but as of right now we’ve got nothing. The knife, doorknobs, and sink were all wiped clean. Hair and fiber came up empty as well. I’m having the blood splatters typed, hoping we get lucky, but I’m really not counting on it. Whoever the guy was, he played it cool and seems to have gotten away without leaving anything behind.”

  Cade knew there was more to it than that, but he couldn’t say so to Burke. If Bishop were involved, as Cade suspected, things might just get a lot uglier.

  “That just sucks. What did the thief make off with? A couple of gold-plated chalices and the money from the poor box?”

  “Not even. Idiot dropped his sack when he turned to run. Damned shame is what it is.”

  They spent another fifteen minutes sharing war stories and catching up on guys they knew. When they ran out of things to talk about, Cade thanked Burke for coming down and paid the bill.

  As Burke got up to go, Cade reached out and grabbed his arm.

  “Where did they take Martin’s body?”

  “The County Morgue was full so they’ve got him over at the Annex, in the basement of Mass General. Gonna go pay your respects?”

  Cade glanced away.

  “Yeah.” Something like that.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Cade didn’t have the luxury to take things slowly at this point. He needed a look at Father Martin’s body and he needed to do it now. The fact that it was being housed over at the morgue annex, rather than the primary facility at Boston City Hall was a definite plus. Foot traffic was much lower at the Annex and he knew they should be able to get in and out without too much difficulty. More importantly, the chances of someone from his past recognizing him at the Annex were much lower than they would be at City Hall.

  Cade waited five minutes after Burke had left and then returned to the vehicle. A few minutes later Riley opened the passenger door and climbed in beside him.

  “Well?” Cade asked.

  “Went straight back to his car and drove off. I took down the tags but I don’t think there’s anything for us to worry about. He didn’t have a tail and I don’t see any evidence of a stakeout; the rest of the cars along the street are empty. There wasn’t any activity in the windows of the building overlooking the diner, either.”

  “Good.” He’d thought Burke was playing on the up and up, but it didn’t hurt to be sure. Cade sat there in silence for a moment and then made up his mind. He needed a look at that body and there was no better time than the present.

  “Get a hold of the other two and let them know we’re headed over to the morgue. We’ll meet up with them back at the hotel once we’re finished.”

  “Roger that.”

  While Riley was on the phone, Cade opened the storage compartment between the front seats. He pressed a hidden stud and then lifted the compartment out entirely, revealing another, shallower space beneath. He removed several leather identification cases from inside the hollow and flipped through them. Selecting two, he replaced the rest and then reseated the upper compartment.

  He waited until Riley had hung up and then handed over one of the sets of ID.

  “Who are we this time?” asked the sergeant.

  “NSA.”

  “Works for me.”

  Cade knew the average municipal employee wouldn’t ask too many questions of a representative of the National Security Agency, the arm of the US government responsible for the collection and analysis of foreign communications, and so it seemed like a good choice. Believed by some to be the world’s largest intelligence-gathering agency, the NSA was a branch of the Department of Defense and with that affiliation came a certain sense that the less one knew about its activities the better. Cade was counting on that reputation of secrecy to allow them to get in and out of the morgue without having to explain what they were doing there.

  He knew he could have simply asked Burke for access to the body, but that would have resulted in a paper trail. Right now his meeting with Burke was off the books and Cade intended to keep things that way.

  They made the short trip downtown and parked across the street from the Annex to avoid the cameras that Cade knew where set up around the government parking lot adjacent to the building. They showed their credentials to the guard just inside the front door and then took the elevator down to the basement where they let the morgue attendant know what they wanted.

  The attendant led them over to the bank of steel drawers built into the far wall and pulled one of them open, exposing the black body bag that lay inside. He deftly slid the bag onto a portable table, wheeled the table over to one of the examinations stations, and then repeated the process in reverse. Once the bag was in place, the attendant unzipped the thick plastic, exposing the body of an elderly man. He checked the toe tag against the clipboard he carried and then removed a file from a nearby cabinet, handing it to Cade.

  “That’s him,” he said, indicating the body, “and that’s the autopsy report. Just what are you looking for?”

  Cade took the clipboard, smiled at the attendant, and said, “Thanks. Now if you wouldn’t mind waiting in the hall?”

  The attendant smiled back. “Sorry, no can do. Rules say I’ve got to be here.”

  “Riley?”

  “Yes, sir.” The big man stepped up, took the attendant by the arm and led him toward the door. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, speaking over the man’s protests, “but this is a mat
ter of national security. You are going to have to wait in the hall until we’re finished.”

  “National security? What the hell does the death of a priest have to do with national security?”

  “Sorry, sir, but I can’t tell you that. Your government appreciates your assistance in this matter, however, and I’m sure that…”

  Riley’s voice faded as he escorted the man out into the hallway. Moments later he stepped back inside the room and then shut and locked the door behind him. He took up a stance in front of it, just to be certain they wouldn’t be interrupted.

  Satisfied, Cade turned back to the autopsy report in his hands. He leafed through it for a few moments, noting the time of death as having been between late last night and early this morning. The pieces seemed to fit together. He could see Martin making the drive to Connecticut, dropping off the package, and the returning early that morning only to find the intruder in the midst of the burglary. Surprised, the thief reacts without thinking and suddenly he’s got a murder rap to add to his breaking and entering and burglary charges.

  Cause of death was listed as exsanguination, caused by multiple knife wounds to the chest. Father Martin had bled to death alone there in the early morning darkness, unable to call for help. Cade found himself hoping the old man hadn’t suffered too much, that his faith had allowed him to face death with the same bravery and determination with which he’d faced life.

  The report noted that the wounds were caused by a common kitchen knife, that the weapon had been recovered at the scene, and that the nature of the wounds matched the size and shape of the blade. The knife itself had been sent to the lab for analysis, so Cade was not going to be able to examine it for himself.

  But he had the next best thing.

  Martin’s body.

  He put the report down and turned to Riley. “M.E. puts his death sometime last night, early this morning, which means we’ve still got time to give this a shot.”

  “I’m ready when you are.”