Chief Among Sinners

by Lois K. Gibson

  She pulled on Herb's arm and he escorted her out of the hospital. He held open the door of his brand new red Miata and gently pushed her head down, warning her that it was a low roof and it was too cold to put the top down. After she was settled in, her coat pulled around her and snuggled into the deep bucket seat, he closed the door, hurried around, got in the driver's seat, and turned the heat on high.

  In spite of the deep bucket seats, she snuggled against the rabbi, reassuring him that Scott Addams wouldn't be her husband, wouldn't be able to dictate what she did, for much longer. She said the Miata was adorable and asked if he would let her drive it sometime.

  "Adorable, adorable. What do you mean? It's compact, good looking small, but roomy inside," and now kidding with her to lighten the heavy atmosphere, he said, "See all the pretty lights on the dashboard? And it's warm. Don't forget, it's warm."

  She smiled back at him. "It is warm, and thank you for getting me out of that hell hole."

  After what seemed to Louise an awkward silence Herb said, "I saw the look on your face when Doc Gold told us about Lucy. And watching you earlier tonight, I think you know a lot more than the rest of us."

  Almost in a whisper she answered, "Mrs. Murphy told me about the offerings on the back steps behind the church, what she calls the wee beasties. We both think it was the Clarks, living so close to the church, and after tonight we all think somebody in that house was looking for help. If Frank Stevenson hadn't called the house looking for Kate, I wouldn't know what was going on and I wouldn't even be here now."

  She paused. "Maybe you were right, and I was a little hysterical in there. Bridget Murphy didn't tell me every detail, but I can see how the priest would get the willies about those dead animals week after week."

  Herb stroked her hair as he told her the story of his part in the bizarre events behind St. Timothy's. When he was through, she took his two hands in hers, held them to her mouth, and kissed them.

  She said, "I am so embarrassed. I didn't mean to speak to Father O'Reilly that way. He is a good man and he was only trying to be helpful. I'll go in now and apologize."

  She reached for the door handle, but Herb held her back. "Not now, Louise. Sit back, relax. You can apologize later."

  He pulled her back and she felt herself go limp. The heat was calming, and in spite of the console in the middle, she laid back and rested against him. It felt good. After a few minutes, she shook her head to keep from drifting off, sat up, looked at Herb Gordon, and asked, "Do you have the same rules of confidentiality as a priest?"

  He started to explain his keeping confidences and she interrupted, "I don't want an explanation, just yes or no. If I tell you something, are you bound not to reveal it?"

  "Just one word of caution," he said. "If you confess to a murder or are going to commit a murder, there would be a serious dilemma, but other than that, I am bound..."

  Louise interrupted, "I swear I didn't kill anybody. Yet. But I know a few people who might fall over dead if they knew I was Jewish."

  It was a slow thirty second count before he reacted. He nudged her away, sat up straight, looked at her and said, "You don't mean that, Louise. Everybody knows you have led a fine, upstanding Christian life here in Oakton. Are you saying that because you think it will please me? Bring us closer together?"

  Louise said, "You may not believe me. I didn't mean to add another shock to everything that already went on tonight, but sitting here, snuggled up against you, I figured it was time I told you. The truth is, I am Jewish. Married to an anti-Semitic bastard who made me promise never to tell anyone, even our children. And now you have to promise not to tell anyone else on pain of death."

  She watched the rabbi's face as he digested what she said. He closed his eyes, then opened them, looked at her in the dashboard lights, and asked, "Are you for real, Louise Addams? I can believe the chief is anti-Semitic, but that you kept this secret for twenty-five years," shaking his head he added, "and Kate and Dan don't know."

  She sat still, hands folded in her lap, waiting for more. She knew there would be more. "If you keep shaking your head like that, it could fall off."

  "After your revelation, I wouldn't be surprised to see my head rolling around on the floor. I never would have guessed, you're Jewish?" He repeated, "You really are Jewish? But I was at your house with Terry during the holidays, and you had a beautiful Christmas tree and decorations."

  "Scott never set foot in a church in his whole life, but he's the chief and according to him, the Addams family are good Catholics. We do the Christmas thing to the hilt, plum pudding, turkey, and the rest. I think it's what Kate and Dan look forward to and the only reason they come home for winter break."

  Again, Louise saw a puzzled look cross the rabbi's face, but she wasn't about to tell him more. She looked at him, grim, unsmiling, sending the message that she didn't want to talk about that any more right now. "Tell me, Herb, what do you know about the Clark family? Rumors fly and you must have heard something."

  She watched frustration flick across his face, his eyes still open wide, looking to Louise like he was trying to rearrange his mind and focus on her question. It took him a few seconds to readjust himself in the seat, run a hand through his thinning hair, and look at her and accept that this woman was unmovable.

  Reluctantly, he started by telling her he heard that he thought Sally was a bolt short and Lucy had more than one hinge off the door; that Sally was pretty close to the chief's description of a loose lady; that Agnes Clark was a weirdo, going farther off track every year. He'd heard about the flying ghosts and witches from Terry, and knew about the weird accident on Halloween, but he didn't understand how somebody broke their neck slipping off a kitchen stool.

  She saw the rabbi watching her, trying to digest what she said, and she wondered if she should tell him what she knew, or at least suspected, starting with twenty-five years ago.

  "Listen Herb, I want to share the whole story with you." Herb nodded, so Louise began.

  "You probably already know that twenty-five years ago Joe Clark was killed in that hit and run on Halloween. Scott detested that man, and I always wondered if it wasn't Scott who ran him down. I think he had a hard on for Joe's wife, Agnes. More than once, he'd look at me, a smirk on his face, and tell me what a pretty woman Agnes Clark was, what a hard worker she was. Back then she was very pretty and very hard working, not the hag she turned into. Her little girl, Maggie, was eleven and looked just like Agnes, not a hint of Joe.

  "Scott had quite a jag on when he stormed out of the house that night twenty-five years ago. It was another battle about me not getting pregnant. Sometimes he blamed me, but other times, it challenged Scott's virility.

  "Around midnight I heard sirens, and the next day I learned about Joe Clark. The next morning at breakfast, Scott told me he was upset about last night's hit and run. Too bad that he couldn't do anything about the son-of-bitch, bastard who did it, but we—he included me in his little pep talk—could do something to help Agnes Clark and little Maggie.

  "He talked about how she cleaned houses for a living while Joe Clark was the school janitor and town handy-man. He worried how without two incomes she would take care of her little girl. Until he told me, I didn't know that she moved into the old abandoned Civil War hospital. I knew it had been converted into living quarters several years ago, but I didn't know that Scott bought it from the county, and she was living there rent free.

  "I asked him when he bought the old place, how much it cost and why he hadn't told me about it. He shrugged and said all men have secrets from their wives or they wouldn't be real men."

  She looked at Herb. "That's the man I married. It's only after I've gotten to know you, Herb, know what real love is, that I've seen Scott for the 'man' he really is. Do you believe all men should keep secrets from the one they love?"

  "Listen, Louise. I'm still trying to get used to your revelation about being Jewish. I'm listening to what you're saying, but it isn't sinking in. As far
as secrets, you're kidding, of course. As a rabbi, you know there are secrets I must keep, but I hope that would not affect our mutual trust." He smiled at her, and she nodded. He told her to go one with the story.

  Louise continued, "Scot and Agnes knew each other in high school, and there were rumors even then. Agnes became pregnant with Maggie around that time, and she may not have told Scott he was a father at eighteen and Joe never suspected a thing. Of course, I didn't know then what I suspect now. So I was Mrs. Nice, good to allow my husband to set aside a stipend for Agnes Clark. I tried to come up with an amount so the woman wasn't belittled or ashamed. What a joke!"

  Louise told him that when twelve-year-old Maggie Clark gave birth to Sally, only seven months after she had Kate, the nurses commented how baby Sally looked so much like baby Kate, that they could be twins.

  Everybody assumed little Maggie was raped by Agnes's boyfriend, but Agnes had no boyfriend at the time. Since her husband died, she led a lonely life, working and taking care of her little girl. As the picture became clearer, As time went on, Louise said she knew Maggie was Scott Addams's offspring, and Sally, and Lucy, and now this helpless deformity they witnessed being brought into the world.

  After Maggie had her baby, she was threatened, cajoled, wheedled, bribed doctors, nurses, and the police tried everything they could to pry a name out of her, but Maggie was scared, tight-lipped, and stubborn, and she never revealed her abuser.

  Louise wiped her eyes with a handkerchief. "There isn't much more. You heard him rant and rave. I know that's a cover-up, and now so do you. I couldn't say anything in there, pull all my skeletons out from their closets for everyone to see. But you're different, Herb. I had to tell someone after everything that has happened."

  "Louise, you have to come forward with this. The sheriff, the mayor, Scott must pay for what he's done."

  She shook her head. "I can't. Not yet. I have to put my house in order first. I need a plan to take care of Scott, once and for all."

  "At lease let me—"

  "You said you would keep what I said in confidence. You promised, Herb. That's how I could trust you with this. Promise me you won't tell anyone what I've said. Not until I'm ready."

  Louise could see the rabbi's conflict of conscience on his face as he struggled with her request, but she loved him even more when he looked away, didn't speak, and curtly nodded.

  She leaned over, kissed Herb on the cheek, and said, "Remember your promise." Louise opened the car door and got out of the car. She thought Herb might join her and come back inside the hospital, but he just sat in his Miata, staring straight ahead. She walked in alone.

  Kate was waiting for her in the clinic and asked if she was all right. The others who were concerned for little Lucy Clark had all left on the doctor's orders. Louise felt herself blush and walked past Kate to get coffee, avoiding the question. Standing alone at the nurse's station, she was glad she told Herb what she knew about the Clark family.

  At ten o'clock, without warning, the lights dimmed. Kate had left as well, and Louise was alone to watch over little Lucy. She walked to the emergency area, flung the curtain aside, saw the empty bed, and hurried to the nurse's station where Mary Hansen was standing, shuffling papers.

  "Where is Lucy? Is she all right? She didn't die, did she? Hey Mary, talk to me."

  "Yeah, Louise, she's alive. Asleep, sedated, tucked away in a private room. She won't wake up for quite a while.

  "Hey, it was exciting, wasn't it? I wonder who it was the put the girl in the state she's in. Father Terry is my priest, and I would swear on a Bible he didn't do it. Did you know he's the one that called the ambulance and got her here so Doc Gold could take care of her?"

  Louise watched Mary put her papers aside, eager to tell her story. "You should have seen her, covered with mud, straw in her hair, in pain. Poor thing. And no idea what was happening to her. She was bloody, and her water broke, so she was soaked through. I cleaned her up enough for Doc to get her into position so that thing could come out. Boy did he move fast."

  Before Mary could go on, Louise said, "Mary, where are Lucy's clothes? I'll be happy to give them to the police for you."

  Mary reached under the counter and brought up a globby mess in a plastic bag. "I didn't know if I should save it or dump it. Nobody's gonna get much from this stuff."

  Louise took the bag, sure that if there was anything to find, Dan or Kate would find it.

  She said goodbye and headed to the parking lot before Mary could get started again. Herb's car was gone when she stepped outside.

  When she pulled into the garage at home she saw the kitchen lights were on. Inside, Kate and Dan were sitting at the table with cups of coffee in their hands. It pained Louise to see her daughter look so haggard, no color in her face, hair disheveled, lids drooping. And Dan, pale, his eyes dull, hair standing straight up from running his hands through in a nervous gesture. Depositing the plastic bag on the table, she said, "Here's a present. It's what Lucy was wearing before they cleaned her up."

  Louise pulled out a chair and sat. "That was some ordeal at the clinic. It's so horrible. I don't see how Maggie Clark can face this town. It's criminal neglect. That woman should be in jail. Where was she when this was happening to Lucy?"

  Too angry to cry, she sniffled once or twice, and Kate got up and put an arm on Louise's shoulder. "Mom, why are you taking this so hard? Lucy isn't your child, your family. I don't know why this has you so upset."

  "You probably didn't know that we have been helping that family financially since Joe was killed. Maggie is no child. She's thirty-six, and should have done a better job of protecting Lucy."

  Louise stopped. She wasn't sure she wanted Kate and Dan to know about the money. She realized she'd been rambling from tension and nerves. She stood up and put her arms around Kate. "Don't worry about me, dear. I'm fine, just rattled by tonight's events.

  Kate picked up the plastic bag, turned to Dan, and said, "We should take a look at what Mom brought home."

  Dan looked at the bag and said, "Tomorrow will do. None of that crap is going to run away."

  Louise watched Dan start up the stairs, then stop. "Dad's gonna chew our asses when he can't find this evidence."

  Then Kate called after him that he was a dumbass if he didn't realize the chief wasn't interested in finding evidence because he wanted to blame that little girl. Kate followed Dan up the stairs, all the while criticizing the chief.

  Louise put the dirty cups in the sink. So tired, she felt faint. She grabbed the edge of the sink, steadied herself, picked up the evidence bag and slowly went up stairs.

  She remembered reading some place that if you want something to be invisible you should hide it in plain sight, so she tossed her robe on a chair with the evidence bag, climbed into bed, and snuggled under the duvet. The last image that flickered across her eyes was Herb sitting in his Miata having sealed his promise with a kiss.

  Ten

  Terry did his ablutions and that Monday morning's prayers, put on his jogging clothes over his thermal underwear, went out the back door, and loped toward the cemetery fence for his pre-jogging stretch. He was glad to see that one of the altar boys had shoveled the path since the last snowfall.

  Bowing head to knee, one leg at a time, he felt muscle pull against muscle. He flung his arms around his body to get the circulation going, jogged a few steps in place, then took off on his run.

  Looking down the street, he saw Herb jogging in place, and as he came abreast, the rabbi made a graceful turn and together they started their regular route. He hoped Herb was all jogging business this morning because he wasn't ready to talk about yesterday. It was hard to jog and talk, and this morning Terry was grateful for those limitations.

  At the end of their regular one mile up into the hills, down the bluffs, above the Root River, and one mile back, they stopped in front of Millie's. Gasping for breath, they exhaled wavering mists into the cold morning air, did a post- run stretch against the brick wall
, and waved back at the diners on the other side of the broad window.

  Inside, they walked past Chief Addams sitting at the counter dunking a very big donut into a very large mug of coffee. He looked up at them and sneered. "What are you doing here? Don't people need you in church or wherever the hell you hang out and do your good deeds?" Both men nodded and quickly walked past him to their usual booth in the back. Not bothering to look at the menu, in its shiny chrome holder, Terry ordered his usual: eggs over light with bacon and whole wheat toast for the priest; eggs sunny side up, no bacon, white toast for the rabbi, lots of coffee, and lots of privacy.

  The waitress walked away, and they sat back and looked at each other. Terry spoke first, "What the H— was that all about, Herb? The chief knows what we're about. Didn't we bring him in on this problem as soon as we could? What's with that man? I don't remember him being such a rude bastard. Am I wrong?"

  Before Herb could answer, their order arrived. The rabbi shrugged, made no comment, and concentrated on the food.

  Terry finished, wiped his mouth, took another gulp of coffee, and leaned against the back of the booth. "Well," he said, "that sure hit the spot. I didn't realize how hungry I was. We both missed dinner last night."

  Herb said he forgot all about that, but confessed, that when he got home he had a piece of Mrs. Cohen's schnecken and a glass of milk.

  "I don't know what schnecken is," Terry answered. The ease of their conversation and his full belly made things easier for Terry. "Hey, Herb, let's stop hedging and get to the point." He leaned forward. "Do you have any ideas about where we go from here?"

  Herb paused, sipped his coffee, and said, "Terry, I heard something yesterday that knocked the wind out of me, but I took the person in my confidence and I'm not sure if I should talk about it."

  Terry glowered at the rabbi. He thought they were partners in this. "You know I'm sworn to secrecy about anything revealed to me. C'mon, Herb. You can tell me."