Port City (An Alec Winters Series Book 3)

by Chariss K. Walker

  Abernathy had to admit that Vivien Simon did have an observant and sharp eye. She noticed more than most, even those trained or experienced in the field. Still, he’d been blindsided by the news of her new job. It most certainly wasn’t the information his benefactor wanted to hear either. The man held the reporter responsible for smearing Father Maddox’s good name and wanted retribution. Abernathy promised him that he would get that satisfaction.

  When losing her income and status from the paper hadn’t successfully chased her out of town, the benefactor fumed and pouted like a spoiled child. Monsignor Abernathy watched as the anger grew and clouded the man’s judgment, twisting it until it no longer resembled the truth. He’d seen it before and it never ended well for anyone when the need for revenge took such monstrous proportions.

  It wasn’t long until Vivien Simon was blamed for the priest’s murder as well. At least, in the man’s mind. When the order came down to have her killed, Abernathy had worried about it, but he had hesitated for a mere nanosecond. He couldn’t risk losing the support of such a powerful ally. The church needed this man’s hefty contributions.

  Theoretically, Abernathy knew that Miss Simon hadn’t been responsible for Father Maddox’s death. It occurred first. The investigation of his murder had led to the sordid details of Maddox’s life. He also knew that Timothy Maddox was a stupid, vile man. Although he wasn’t privy to the details of Maddox’s relationship with his benefactor, he often wondered why such a man found Maddox worthy of his loyalty.

  After all, shortly after having an early dinner with a young boy, the priest was dead. His body was found with his pants unzipped and his cock exposed. It was disgusting behavior. Anyone would’ve concluded that Maddox was a pedophile just as the reporter did. Maddox was greedy and took unnecessary chances. Such risks had put the abbey in jeopardy. It had also put his relationship with the benefactor in danger.

  Miss Simon had only followed the story. A tip led her to Ohio and the massive amount of public opinion against Maddox there. One of the worst outcries that the church had faced, it involved well over a hundred complainants. Those families wanted retribution. However, as they usually did, the church had swept it under the rug. Miss Simon had not. She dug deep and found the truth. Then, she reported her findings.

  No matter how loyal the church brothers and sisters were, someone was bound to talk. They always did. Miss Simon could easily discover that a relative, a longtime and hugely generous benefactor to the Roman Catholic Church, requested that Maddox transfer to the New Orleans parish.

  Large contributions had followed Maddox to the abbey, and in kind, to Abernathy. Maddox had kept his nose relatively clean for a while, but then the sexual abuse of children started again. There weren’t any outright allegations, but there were whispers and rumors.

  The parish children hated and avoided him. Astute parents were already beginning to notice that their children stood behind them whenever the priest was near. Unrest and suspicions soon followed. When Miss Simon’s articles appeared, there was an outcry from the parents. The parish abbey was in upheaval as worried mothers and fathers threw around accusations and demanded answers.

  On the other hand, Miss Simon couldn’t state suppositions as fact without firsthand information and gathering details to prove her theory. Abernathy understood it, but he was furious that her reports had upset his parish, especially the parents. It was one thing for children to avoid the newest priest; it was another matter entirely for their parents to know why they did so.

  Wanting Miss Simon stopped and for things to return to normal, Abernathy had simply tried to destroy the reporter. However, his benefactor wanted her murdered. Death was a high price to pay for doing one’s job. It didn’t sit well with Abernathy, but he felt as if he had no other choice in the matter. To put things right, Miss Simon would have to die.

  Not everyone agreed with Abernathy or understood the lengths to which he would go to protect the parish abbey and his own reputation. Those who did understand were rewarded; those who didn’t were excluded and punished. It was the way things worked and the way they had always worked even before he was Monsignor. Moreover, when someone as powerful as the abbey’s number one benefactor wanted results…it was also the way things were done. The abbey was more than a brotherhood; it was a family.

  Abernathy had given the directive to Clive Burroughs who had, in turn, reached out to two men in the parish who were considered incorrigible. Rusty and Jake had committed all manner of crimes and acts of mayhem since early adolescence. Even their families had washed their hands, avowing that the men simply couldn’t and wouldn’t change.

  When Clive brought Jake and Rusty to Abernathy, the priest had promised the men absolution for all their sins – past, present, and future. All they had to do in return was to follow the little reporter and kill her. Jake and Rusty had eagerly accepted the assignment, but they’d failed. Someone or something had protected Miss Simon. As a result, Jake and Rusty were dead.

  Even with police contacts, neither Clive nor Abernathy could get the full story about that fiasco. District 8 kept a tight lid on everything that had happened that night. In addition, the precinct made a vigorous attempt to protect Miss Simon. The police detail assigned to her made it more difficult to get close to her. Someone was always on duty watching over her.

  In exasperation, and unable to get any details about that night, Clive had gone to the morgue to see Jake and Rusty’s bodies. In hopes of coming to some kind of theory about how they died, Clive took photos. The sergeant couldn’t rationalize that the two worst criminals in the city were killed before they could do the job. Jake always carried a gun and Rusty was never known to be without a large, butcher’s knife. Those weapons were their trademarks. He’d hoped to get an idea of how Vivien Simon escaped two violent, armed men with hardly a scratch.

  The pictures Clive had taken of their mangled bodies still caused queasy jitters in Abernathy’s stomach. He couldn’t understand how it had happened. He wasn’t alone. Even the coroner’s report, filled with holes and suppositions about the wounds, gave multiple causes of death. Miss Simon was the only one who knew the answers to that perplexing mystery…and she wasn’t talking.

  His next orders were to kidnap and interrogate her. Everyone involved was curious to know how she managed to escape the life-threatening encounter with Jake and Rusty. However, it had taken a while for Clive to round up a new crew to follow that directive. Word had gotten around that the woman was protected in some way.

  It was rumored that she had strong magic, powerful karma, or mysterious voodoo that shielded her from harm. Now, whatever the irrational belief in such superstitious notions, no one willingly stepped forward to do the job. Finally, Clive had successfully arranged it, but that attempt had also failed. Although not outwardly superstitious, Clive had seen too much of the unexplained in New Orleans. It was a strange place filled with all kinds of supernatural mumbo-jumbo. He was reluctant to try again.

  Monsignor Abernathy didn’t want to hear that, but he also hadn’t heard from his ally and benefactor for several days now. He hoped the man didn’t do anything foolish and take the mission upon himself. It wouldn’t be unlike him. Like Maddox, he thought he was invincible, untouchable. Abernathy had called to give an update, but so far, his calls had been ignored. He decided that it couldn’t hurt to wait until he was given further instructions.

  In the meantime, Abernathy learned something new. He had just received word that the plain-clothes detail Lieutenant Albright assigned to Vivien Simon wasn’t the only eyes following her. Clive had also assigned a team to watch her movements.

  Next, he heard about her recent visit with Brother Murphy. Abernathy immediately called Murphy in to question him, but the deacon appeared to be too frightened to admit he’d seen Miss Simon.

  “Listen Brother Murphy, I know you were talking to her. She chased you down the street to question you,” Abernathy began in a very calm manner. “I understand that you are not res
ponsible for her doing so. I know that you tried to slip away from her. However, you did converse with her. I simply want to know the details of that conversation. Now, please, for the sake of your position, tell me what she said.”

  “She wanted to talk about Father Maddox, but I told her that I could not speak to her again. That is all that was said,” Murphy replied.

  “Such few words that took well over ten minutes to express,” Abernathy skillfully accused. “Surely, there was more.”

  “No,” Murphy said. “That was all. I simply repeated my refusal several times. She is very stubborn and persistent.”

  “Be advised, Brother Murphy. I have many confidential informants everywhere. For instance, I know that she recently visited a priestess at Marie Laveau’s House of Voodoo.” The information hung in the air for a few brief moments before Abernathy continued, “I know that District 8’s Police Department keeps a close watch over their little darling. I know a great deal about the woman.”

  “Do you also know that the church sent men to kill her?”

  Abernathy was startled by the question. It proved that they had spoken more than a few sentences. There was little doubt that Miss Simon had revealed this information to Brother Murphy. No one else at the abbey would’ve done so.

  “Ahh, as a former reporter, she does have a vivid imagination,” Abernathy casually replied. Then his voice turned hard and cold, “If it is so, then you would be wise to keep your distance from her. You wouldn’t want to be caught in the middle of another attempt on her life. You are excused now, please leave me.”

  After Murphy left, Abernathy considered everything he knew again. What troubled him most was the Voodoo prophecy. He worried how Miss Simon was involved in that little bit of gossip. He wondered what she would uncover if she dug deep enough. She was good at that kind of thing—finding something noteworthy when others were blind to it. He considered that it might be enlightening to let her investigate the matter. For now, however, all that Monsignor Abernathy could do was to continue to have her closely watched.

  Chapter 18

  While Alec spent the next two days at the abbey, Sabrina began the process of selling her condominium. She called a trusted friend at a local real estate office to help her achieve her goals. They agreed to meet the following afternoon. After the condominium was set for its initial showing to the realtor, she packed her most essential items into travel cases and took a cab to the Carrollton Avenue home.

  As she got out of the taxi with the two suitcases, envious eyes watched her, but Sabrina didn’t notice that she was observed. After Alec had rescued her from DeLaurent, she felt safe. She didn’t know of any others who would want to harm or possess her.

  After Sabrina took the cases upstairs to Alec’s bedroom and unpacked them, she returned to the lower level. Cassidy had prepared a simple lunch. The two women ate chicken salad on crackers while sipping iced tea. During the meal, they chatted softly.

  “I’m very happy that you are moving in with us, Sabrina. I know that Alec is also. For so many years, it has felt as if this family was put on hold or suspended the night Buck died. Now, it feels as if we can begin again. When Catalina moves home, we’ll be one big happy family for once in our lives. It’s something I’ve always wanted but could never have while Buck was alive. It’s very exciting and fulfilling.”

  “It certainly is,” Sabrina agreed.

  In the meantime, Alec was unobserved as he moved freely about the abbey. He listened and absorbed all that he could as he utilized his supernatural skills. Murphy wasn’t the only good soul who was disillusioned with the brotherhood of priests. Others were also overwrought and despairing about the way things were run by the priestly hierarchy.

  Although Brother Murphy had felt singled out, he wasn’t. There were others who had been overlooked and stymied by the appalling abuse and nepotism. Only a few were satisfied with the current leadership. Only a few benefited from it also.

  When Monsignor Abernathy summoned Brother Murphy to his private chambers a second time, Alec was there to follow him.

  Abernathy’s personal living quarters, elaborately furnished, held many treasures and items of great value from around the world. Abernathy sat on an ornate gold and black enameled chair from Asia. It very much resembled a throne. Murphy humbly stood before the Monsignor with hands folded while his sandaled feet sank into a plush Persian rug. The richness of the apartment made the meek deacon feel most uncomfortable.

  While other priests shared cramped living quarters and meager circumstance, Abernathy lived like a king. That alone riled Alec, but the conversation between Abernathy and Murphy set his righteous indignation afire.

  “You will never get ahead, Brother Murphy. Not if you continue to withhold information from me. Not if you fail to do your duty to protect the abbey and follow my bidding. I want you to talk to Vivien Simon. I want you to arrange a meeting.”

  “What would I say to her, Monsignor?”

  “I want you to talk to her about the first attack. I want to know what happened in that alley when Jake and Rusty attacked her. I want to know how they died while she escaped.”

  “Then you know of this attack?”

  “Of course I know. I told you, I have many dedicated and confidential supporters everywhere. Not much happens in this city that doesn’t reach my ears.”

  “Can’t someone else do this?”

  “No. You must do it to prove your loyalty to the abbey. Besides, she trusts you. She has come twice to seek you out. It must be you.”

  After the Monsignor sent Murphy away, Alec watched Abernathy for a while longer. Using his people-reading talents, he probed deeply into the Monsignor’s past to determine who was behind the assaults on Vivien Simon.

  The information easily flowed to him: A benefactor of great wealth…someone who was related to Maddox and saw himself as the pedophile’s protector…one who had irrationally blamed Vivien Simon for his half-brother’s death…one who had ordered her murder…one who had not returned Abernathy’s calls lately…one who would never again return his calls because he was locked in his own prison—none other than MeChelle DeLaurent!

  Alec was deeply satisfied with what he had learned. What a small world it was! Everything was connected after all. He quietly laughed at the twisted irony of the situation. Then, he moved forward from the shadows so that Abernathy could see him.

  “This is rich,” Alec commented. The startled priest looked at the fit, handsome man standing before him. “And I’m not just referring to the posh apartment.” He chuckled again.

  “How did you get in here? Who are you and what do you want?”

  “I’m here to punish you. I’m here to let you know that your pal, MeChelle DeLaurent is unavailable for consultation or to order Vivien Simon’s death forever. You will write a confession. You will admit to your sins and leave a written testimony of your partnership with DeLaurent for the police.”

  “That’s absurd! Why would I do that?” Abernathy, almost amused, calmly asked. “All I have to do is pick up the phone and you will be arrested for trespassing and any other crime that I can attribute to you. Do you know who I am?”

  “You will do it, Monsignor Abernathy,” Alec heatedly interrupted. “You will do it now!” he ordered as he allowed his rage to manifest the demon persona for a few brief moments.

  “Oh God. Oh God,” Abernathy cried out in terror at the huge devil standing before him materialized. Monstrous red hands grabbed his shoulders and the searing pain from his fiery touch burned through Abernathy’s priestly robes.

  “God is sick of listening to you and your pompous excuses,” Alec replied, now a man again. “Now, write your confession!”

  Abernathy, frightened beyond reason, did as told. All the while, he thought there might be some way out of this. Surely, he had merely hallucinated seeing the massive, red devil. Someone had played a prank on him; one of the brothers had put something in the sacramental wine again. Still, he was petrified by the image h
e’d seen, but there was more. The man standing before him knew of his sins. If he knew, perhaps others also knew. Abernathy felt shame for the first time in a very long while.

  While writing out the details of his involvement with DeLaurent and the attempts to stop Vivien Simon, he cried and begged for mercy, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t kill me. Don’t force me to destroy my legacy with this confession. I have done much good for the abbey.”

  “Any good was undone by the evil of your deeds. A balance must be maintained. Your scales have tipped,” Alec quietly replied without compassion.

  “Is there no absolution, no penance, and no forgiveness?” Abernathy pleaded.

  “None.”

  After the confession was finished, Alec read it. Every detail was there. It would tie up any loose ends and satisfy the police.

  “Please,” Abernathy tried again. “I can change. Anyone can change. Please, give me another chance.”

  For several minutes, silence was the only response the priest received. Alec felt disgust. Bad people thought they could simply promise to change for leniency. Confess, and all was forgiven. Apologize, and everything was excused. Promise to change and everything was forgotten. As if, words could erase the evil deeds. It irked him more that he wanted to admit. It made him furious.

  Then, Abernathy heard a roar of rage. The Monsignor screamed in horror as the red demon materialized again and leaned towards him. With one mighty swipe, the deadly-sharp claw of one finger sliced the priest’s throat open. As blood poured from the wound, Abernathy tried to make sense of it. He couldn’t. Confused, he sat on his thrown while the life force drained from his body.

  Alec placed the note in Abernathy’s left hand and used a sharp, gilded letter opener to retrace the wound. Then, he put the weapon into Abernathy’s right hand.

  With the mystery solved and no one else to punish, Alec slipped out of the abbey and went home.