by Steve Richer
“How are you, my brothers?” Blanchet said in greeting.
They all shook hands and both kissed Blanchet’s gold ring because the Frenchman was the most influential of the three. Colm stayed in retreat. He was here because he was Blanchet’s assistant, but mostly he had been asked along to prove the Cardinal’s importance.
“What a dark day it is for the Holy See,” Cardinal Stagnaro said although there was no grief in his voice.
“I fear darker days are ahead, my brothers.”
“You really think so, Your Eminence?” Lewandowski asked earnestly.
“Rumors are already spreading that this could be a suicide. Can you believe this? Our Holy Father having killed himself?”
Stagnaro shook his head and started to pace. “I can’t believe it. I cannot believe it! The rumors must be false.”
“And they probably are, my friend. But whatever happens, we must be strong and we must act quickly.”
“How do you mean?”
Blanchet came closer to them, lowering his voice, although Colm could still hear plainly from his position near the door.
“We must rally support for our next pontiff. We can’t allow the Church to be divided again. The last conclave was overly dramatic. We can’t have that again. The Church would never recover.”
“Of course, of course…”
“We must take the pulse of the College of Cardinals, see where everyone stands.”
“Jean,” Cardinal Stagnaro began. “Do you intend for the Church to go into another direction? The last conclave suffered a fracture yes, but the Pope eventually rallied the majority to his side.”
Bishop Lewandowski nodded. “It is true, Pope Callixtus was immensely popular. He was gaining momentum. His initiatives were finding new allies every day. Correcting the direction of the Catholic Church will not be done without difficulty.”
“Of course, you’re absolutely right, my friend. Pope Callixtus led his flock according to God’s will and did wonders to guide the faith to the best of his abilities. But…”
“Something is troubling you, Jean?”
“Yes. Some of his initiatives were, shall we say, less coherent and perhaps even harmful.”
Cardinal Stagnaro stopped breathing and in the process so did Colm.
“You’re talking about the San Marino letter.”
“Yes,” Blanchet replied, nodding gravely. “In these dark moments, it would be best if our brothers would be made to forget about this document until we find ourselves under more certain skies. Do you think you can each see who knows about it in your departments, my brothers?”
“Of course, Your Eminence.”
“Absolutely, Cardinal Blanchet.”
“Thank you, my friends. The Lord is testing us but I’m confident that we will prevail.”
The men shook hands again and Colm felt sick to his stomach. He was conflicted about what was going on. Wasn’t the Roman Curia about leading the faith and governing the Catholic Church?
Secret meetings and veiled discussions wasn’t what he had in mind when he’d come to work at the Vatican. He decided that he would pray for guidance tonight. He had never needed it as much as he did now.
Chapter 8
“Lunch is here,” JoAnn announced as she entered the conference room with another assistant.
They were each carrying brown bags with the logo of a deli Donnie knew was just down the street. He’d eaten there before and the pastrami was out of this world, but at the moment he had no appetite, and neither did Galfy.
“What are you talking about, Beecher? Come over here…” He led the younger man away until they were just out of the conference room and nobody could overhear them. “Tell me, why are you sure this isn’t a suicide after all?”
Donnie pulled out his phone and brought up the photographs again. He placed the screen in front of his boss.
“Look at this, sir. What do you see?”
“I see the Pope hanging from the curtain rod. What are you driving at?”
“Look behind the corpse. That limp thing over there? That’s a towel. Look at the mirror. There’s still a bit of steam left. The Pope took a shower before hanging himself.”
“So?”
“So nobody takes a shower before committing suicide, okay?” Donnie whispered loudly while looking around to make sure there was nobody around. “Granted, some people do if there’s some sort of ritual involved, but they won’t hang themselves in the shower. No, I’m thinking this was staged.”
“Jesus Christ…”
“The sound of the shower running would have let the killer approach without being heard. Comes into the chambers, gets into the bathroom. There’s steam, there’s noise, his tracks are covered.”
“Jesus Christ,” Galfy said again, his eyes losing focus at the shocking news.
“I’m thinking this killer – or do we say assassin when it’s a head of state? Anyway, this son of a bitch takes the trash bag from the wastebasket next to the sink, ambushes the Pope and suffocates him. Then he stages the hanging with the robe belt.”
“This is not good, Detective.”
“Hey, you brought me in to investigate this thing and that’s what I’m doing, all right? You wanted my professional opinion and I’m giving it to you. That’s what happened, the Pope didn’t kill himself. He was murdered.”
Galfy nodded absentmindedly. “Okay, okay. You keep this to yourself.”
“What?”
“This is a major shit storm. We can’t share any of this until we have confirmation from the Medical Examiner’s office. If this gets out, if there’s only the hint of a rumor and it turns out to be wrong, there will be hell to pay.”
“I’m not wrong,” Donnie said although he had to admit that it was always a possibility. “My opinion is that we tell everyone. If there is a murderer to catch, we need to act quickly and we need all the help we can get.”
The deputy inspector shook his head. “If this assassin was good enough to walk past the Secret Service, Diplomatic Security, and Swiss Guards, I think it’s safe to say that he’s already long gone. A couple more hours won’t matter in the great scheme of things. Do I have your word you won’t tell anyone?”
“My word? What is this, grade school?”
At that moment, Donnie’s phone rang in his hand. He instinctively looked at the caller ID. It was Nicole.
“Detective?”
“Okay, fine. I won’t say anything to anyone.”
JoAnn popped out of the conference room. “Inspector, you better hurry. The federal people have already picked through all the corned beef.”
Donnie walked away further, food being the last thing on his mind as he answered the phone. “Yeah?”
“Donnie? It’s me.”
He glanced at his watch. “Your treatment over? How’d it go?”
“How do you think? It’s miserable, of course.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, simultaneously realizing how lame it sounded.
“Have you heard from Sierra this morning?”
He shook his head. “Not since she refused to eat her cereal this morning. I swear, that girl is gonna drive me nuts. That’s supposed to happen with all teenagers? Do all parents become insane when kids turn sixteen?”
“So you don’t know where she is?” Nicole said, her voice weak.
“No, what did I just say? Wait, wasn’t she supposed to drive you from the hospital?”
“That’s why I’m calling you, Donnie.”
“You mean you’re still over there and she didn’t show up? Goddamn it…”
“Okay, I just wanted to see if you knew where she was.”
“Hold on, I’ll come pick you up.”
She said, “No, don’t bother. I’ll handle this.”
“Like hell! You just had your treatment, you’re tired, you need somebody to take you home. I’m coming. I’ll be there in… an hour or so.”
“Donnie, I said no. I said I’ll handle this myself. I just wanted
to check about Sierra. Bye.”
“Nicole…”
It was too late, she had already hung up. He swore under his breath as he put the phone back into his pocket. Then he thought better of it and called his daughter’s phone. It rang three times before going to voicemail.
“Uh Sierra, it’s me, dad. Where are you? Your mother is waiting for you and you didn’t show up. I know you don’t want to talk to me, but call anyway to tell me you’re fine and haven’t been kidnapped, all right? Okay, bye.”
What was going on? Was she screening her calls? If she ever came up with the excuse of not having her phone on her, he knew it would be bullshit. He used to joke that she would lose a kidney before she would lose her phone. That meant that his little monster was dodging his calls.
Shit.
Why was being a father such a tough job? Every day he talked to murderers and thieves and rapists and he found it easier than having a conversation with his own teenage daughter.
Then again, his relationship with Nicole was probably even worse. For all intents and purposes, their marriage was over. It had been over for years and it had taken this long for both of them to realize it.
What had happened anyway? Donnie couldn’t tell. There hadn’t been one moment that had made them stop loving each other. They weren’t in love with other people. They hadn’t gone through a tragedy. They had simply drifted apart over the years, which was probably worse because they didn’t have anything to blame the failure on.
In fact, six months ago they had finally managed to have a conversation about how to go forward without going insane. Donnie had been devastated when she’d suggested he move out, that they did a trial separation before a definite divorce. Still, it hadn’t been a surprise.
The only reason they were still together was her breast cancer diagnosis. If they were together, Nicole was covered under his medical insurance and so the decision had been a no-brainer.
Nevertheless, it was tough living under the same roof when they were essentially strangers now. What made it even harder was that Donnie still loved Nicole. They’d been together about seventeen years, having met at a Y2K New Year’s Eve party. He was comfortable with her, but didn’t know how to tell her anymore, especially since she obviously didn’t feel the same anymore.
And now with this assassination case, there was no way he could devote time to his marriage. It would only make them drift away further. Was it because he was a cop? What was it about police officers that made them divorce so much? How had his parents stayed married forty-five years, until his mother had passed away?
“Goddamn it…” he whispered as he leaned against the wall, running a hand through his short hair.
He heard a throat clear and saw a shadow wash over him. He looked up.
“Uh, are you Detective Beecher?”
It was a woman in uniform, her auburn hair up in a bun. She was in her early 30s but had the demeanor of a rookie, looking at him expectantly.
“In the flesh. What can I do for you?”
“I’m Officer Aldridge. I was told you wanted to see me, that I’m reassigned to you?”
She was the nun? He had heard about her – it was why he had requested her – but he had never actually seen her. It had never occurred to him that a nun could actually be pretty and it troubled him to think so about her. She was gorgeous.
“How’s it going?” he said, straightening up and shaking her hand. “You can call me Donnie.”
“I’m Emma.”
“Good to meet you, Emma. You heard about the Pope this morning?”
She nodded and followed him as they walked down the hallway. “Yes, it’s so tragic.”
“I’m leading the investigation and I want you to be my partner.”
“Why?” she asked with confusion. “I’m not an investigator. I’m with the Community Affairs Bureau, Juvenile Justice Division.”
“What I’m about to tell you, you can’t tell nobody, okay?”
“Yes, of course.”
“The Pope was murdered, it was an assassination.”
She stopped in her tracks and made the sign of the cross. “Oh heavens…”
“I’ve heard about you, about leaving your order to join the NYPD. That’s why I need you. You’re not political and you know about Church affairs.”
Emma was breathing hard, avoiding his eyes as she absorbed the news.
“I can’t do this, Detective… Donnie. I don’t want to do this.”
“Me neither, Emma. I don’t want this job either, but I’m stuck with it and so are you.”
Chapter 9
“You’re so beautiful,” Ridge growled as he kissed Sierra’s neck.
The atmosphere was the absolute opposite of romantic. The apartment was moldy and smelled disgusting. The drywall was ripped in places, there were water stains on the ceiling and it was even dripping in places. What little furniture there was through the unit was secondhand – thirdhand even. The small couch was uncomfortable. She could feel the springs digging into her flesh underneath.
And yet it was the most magical place in the world.
She felt like a princess in his arms and she shifted closer against him. She found his lips and kissed him, inhaling his scent and melting into his arms.
“Do you realize how hot you are, Sierra?”
“Thanks,” she replied sheepishly before kissing him again.
They had met about a month ago at a party. He was so grown-up! At twenty, he’d been the oldest guy there and it was nothing short of a miracle that it was her he’d been interested in.
Not Sandy Schripsema who was captain of the cheerleading squad, the prettiest girl in school. Not Lorraine Czaikowski who spread her legs for just about anybody. No, Ridge had been interested in her.
Sierra had had boyfriends before, but nothing like him. In fact, the boys she’d been with had been nothing but that, boys. They were the sort who took you to Homecoming and still were too shy to ask you to dance.
There was nothing shy about Ridge. From the moment he’d spotted her, he had been in charge. He had made her dance with him. He had pinned her against the wall at the end of the night to kiss her deeply. And it hadn’t been against her will either. She couldn’t explain it, there was something about him being in charge that totally turned her body to mush.
He’d texted her the next day: I’m thinking about you.
From that moment she’d known that she was in love. Obviously, she wasn’t ready to tell him that. She wasn’t about to make a fool out of herself. But he wasn’t a flake either. They’d met after school and he’d taken her into the city. That first day, they had smoked weed, listened to music, and made out for hours. She would have let him do more to her if he’d asked.
She closed her eyes and ran her hands across his chest. He told her he worked out and she could feel it. He had bulging muscles and it made her feel funny. She couldn’t wait for summer in a couple of months. They’d go to the beach and she would look at all the other girls being jealous of her.
“Watch it now!” he said, pulling her hand away from his face. “You’re gonna tear my ear off!”
“Oh, sorry.”
She realized she’d been playing with his earring. It was a small stud and it was shaped like a gun.
“It’s okay, baby. I like that you like it rough.”
He kissed her hard, his tongue halfway down her throat before she could even blink. She surrendered to him and the world dissolved around her. She shifted, wanting to straddle his lap, when he pushed her away.
“I’m gonna get a beer. You want one?”
“Sure,” she replied eagerly.
He kissed her one last time and headed to the small kitchen which surprisingly had a working refrigerator. She got up and followed Ridge, unable to stand being two yards away from him.
He got a couple of cans of Pabst and opened hers before handing it over. He was so cool! Her dad would kill her if he knew what she was doing right now.
Then a
gain, her dad was so square, she thought as they both drank slowly. Her father never let her do anything. It was always do this, do that, be in bed by ten, don’t speak to strangers. God, he was such a drag!
In fact, Ridge was everything her dad wasn’t. He was friendly, attentive, sensitive. He listened to exotic music such as European rap. He was so cool.
“How about lunch, baby?”
“You want me to make it for you?”
“Ain’t no way I’m letting my woman make lunch for me in my place.”
“Let’s make it together then,” she said.
“I like that.”
He kissed her sweetly and they proceeded to make grilled cheese sandwiches on his hot plate. He didn’t have any butter, but she found Miracle Whip and she put that on the outside of the bread. It was a trick her mom had taught her. Meanwhile, he took the plastic wrapper off slices of cheese.
She knew enough to recognize that the whole thing was kind of pathetic, grilled cheese sandwiches in what looked like an abandoned building he was squatting in. Still, she couldn’t deny that it was totally romantic. It was something out of Romeo and Juliet. Material things didn’t matter because they were together.
“I think it’s gonna be delicious,” he said. “Just like you.”
Sierra started to feel a faint buzz from the beer and it made everything better. She found a couple of plates and brought them out just as Ridge pulled the sandwiches from the pan.
They were heading back toward the dining area, which consisted of a wobbly table, one chair, and a milk crate, when there was a loud knock. Someone was banging on the door.
“Yo, open up!”
“I gotta take this,” Ridge explained.
He went to the door which was bolted shut and opened it. Immediately, a guy came in. He was shorter than Ridge, but he was built like the Hulk. His hair went down to his shoulders which somehow made him seem even shorter.
“Hey, Boomer.”
“What’s happening?”
“I’m just hanging with my girl, about to have lunch.”
