In the Name of the Father

by Gerri Hill

CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Sam’s heels clicked on the pavement as she crossed the street and made her way to Saint Mary’s. She’d chosen her navy-blue heels to match the navy suit. She added a red blouse for a splash of color. She smiled as she remembered Tori’s half-hearted offer to join her.

  Tori had been standing naked in their bathroom, trying to think of an outfit she owned that would be suitable to wear to a funeral. “Those black jeans are newly pressed.”

  “You can’t wear jeans to a funeral.” Sam picked out a pair of simple gold hoops, replacing the small diamond studs she normally wore.

  “I’ve got those khakis,” she said. “And that cute silk blouse you bought me.”

  “It’s January,” Sam reminded her. “And you can’t wear khakis to a funeral.”

  “There are far too many rules regarding clothing,” Tori said, but Sam had seen the relief on her face.

  Now Sam paused at the bottom of the steps leading to the church, noting the large crowd that had already gathered, nearly an hour before the service. She also noted the news vans lining the streets. But her hesitation had little to do with that.

  It had been years since she’d been to Mass, the last time at her grandmother’s funeral, seven years ago now. She no longer considered herself to be Catholic. In fact, she hadn’t been a regular churchgoer since she lived at her parent’s house. You’re here as a detective, she chided herself. Not a mourner.

  But still she hesitated, reluctant to take the final steps that would lead her through the open doors and into the somewhat imposing vestibule of Saint Mary’s Cathedral.

  “Problem, Detective?”

  Sam turned, surprised at the relief she felt in seeing a familiar face, even if it was that of Marissa Goddard. She smiled, embarrassed to have been caught staring at the church as if she was afraid to enter. But in Marissa’s eyes, she saw a bit of understanding.

  “I was raised Catholic too,” Marissa said. “But I have so many issues with the Church now, I couldn’t even begin to list them all,” she said with a friendly smile. “I try not to let all of their rituals and rites bother me.”

  “I had almost convinced myself to turn around and leave.”

  “I doubt they’ll single you out at Mass today for being a lesbian,” Marissa teased. “Come on, you can sit with me.”

  “Thanks,” Sam said as she followed Marissa up the steps.

  “Where’s your partner?”

  Sam looked at the cloudless sky. “She’s not where she’d like to be on a warm sunny day in January, which is out on the lake fishing. That is, if she could sneak away from work,” she added with a smile. “She’s hanging out with Sikes and Ramirez. Getting her to come here was not really an option.”

  “Not surprising. I was having a hard time picturing her in a dress and heels,” Marissa said with a laugh.

  “Trust me, Tori Hunter does not own a dress—nor do I anticipate her ever buying one.” They stopped at the entrance, the line slowing as the parishioners waited to view the body and say their final farewell to Father Michael. “And just how much research did you do on us?”

  “Enough to know you wouldn’t be easily swayed, which is why I insisted you not speak to the press,” she said. “But I learned it is common knowledge that you and Hunter live together and all.”

  “Common knowledge in my squad, yes.”

  “No. Common knowledge on the force.”

  Sam shook her head. “I find that hard to believe. I doubt they would continue to let us work together if that were the case.”

  “Actually, I think that’s about to change.”

  “What do you mean?” Sam asked sharply.

  Marissa smiled, but shook her head. “I trust you got the list of names that Monsignor Bernard provided?”

  “Yes. The crime lab will be contacting them for prints.” But Sam wasn’t interested in discussing fingerprints. She stopped Marissa with a hand on the arm. “What did you mean, things are about to change?”

  “I’m sorry, Samantha. I shouldn’t have said anything. I just got the impression in one of my meetings that you and Tori are going to be split up.”

  Sam stared at her. “I can’t believe that. Despite our personal relationship, we work well together as partners. Tori can be a bit overbearing at times,” she acknowledged. “She needs someone to offset that.” She took a deep breath. She couldn’t believe they were going to split them up. Not with Tori’s track record with partners. They couldn’t.

  “I agree. And I know she allows you to do that. Unfortunately, her history indicates that she’s never let anyone do it before.”

  “She doesn’t trust a lot of people.”

  Marissa led her away from the line. “This way. I assume you’re here to watch. I can be of some assistance with that.” They headed down a corridor and through a closed door, leaving the soft sounds of the organ music behind. From there, a flight of stairs took them to a room with a glass wall, allowing a view of the church below. The old wooden floor creaked under their weight as they entered. “I’m told this is the old cry room,” she said. “They’ve built a new one down on the main level,” she said, pointing to an enclosed glass room not far from the altar.

  “So this isn’t used at all?”

  “Not normally, no. I’m sure with the crowd today, though, they might open it up for overflow.” She looked around. “It holds maybe forty people.”

  Sam walked to the glass, her view of the congregation unimpeded. The main area was nearly full. At the front, she noticed several pews full of younger men similarly dressed in black.

  “They’re from the seminary,” Marissa supplied, following her gaze.

  “How many priests does Saint Mary’s have?”

  “Six that are here full time, not counting Monsignor Bernard. Well, five now that Father Michael is gone. I’m told the seminarians help celebrate daily Mass only. I’m not quite sure about all the rules they have about who can say a Mass and whatnot. Do you know?”

  “I should know, I suppose,” Sam said. “The fact is, my brother and I hardly communicate at all.”

  “Because you’re gay?” Marissa asked quietly.

  Sam shook her head. “He doesn’t know. Neither do my parents.”

  “Really?”

  Sam shrugged. “They live in Denver, he’s in Brazil. I haven’t seen my parents in several years and conversations on the phone are infrequent.” She smiled. “Besides, it’s a rather recent discov ery.”

  “Tori’s your first?”

  Sam nodded. “Does that surprise you?”

  “Somewhat, yes. But I take it you’re very committed?”

  “Very.” Sam felt the flush on her face, but she continued, feeling at ease with the conversation. “I had no idea what being in love felt like until I met her. And now I can’t possibly imagine my life without her in it.” She met Marissa’s gaze. “What about you?”

  “Perpetually single,” Marissa said. She pointed down below them. “Those are four of the priests. Looks like they’re going to assist with Mass.”

  “With Monsignor Bernard?”

  “No. Bishop Lewis is doing the service. I believe the monsignor will read the Liturgy.”

  “You seem very well versed in it all. You did your homework there too?”

  Marissa laughed. “I spent nearly eighteen months working with the diocese in Boston. I know all the verbiage.” She moved away from the glass and took a seat on one of the benches. “I’m curious. How far are you and Hunter willing to go on this sexual affair you’re convinced Father Michael was having?”

  “How far? You act as if we’re intent on exposing him and nothing more.” Sam too moved away from the glass. “We believe it is relevant to his murder. And frankly, I couldn’t care less if he had a sex life or not. It’s not like I would get some sort of perverse pleasure from exposing it.”

  “Yet if it was made public, you can imagine the damage the diocese would suffer, can’t you?”

  “A priest having consen
sual sex with an adult, even if it is another man, cannot be compared to the sex abuse scandal of years past, when most of that involved children and young boys. It’s not the same thing.”

  “Of course it is. They’re breaking their vows. Sex is taboo. For most parishioners, the idea that their priest is having a sexual relationship with another man—an ongoing relationship at that—is unthinkable. The sex abuse scandal, as sick as it was, was looked upon as a few misguided men who were just that—sick. But an affair, a conscious choice made by the priest to be involved sexually with another man, that just wouldn’t be tolerated.”

  Sam scoffed. “And that’s just crazy.”

  “But that’s the world we live in.” She spread her hands. “Especially here.”

  “So I take it you are aware of the affair?”

  “In no way do I mean that.” Marissa shook her head. “I wouldn’t tell you if I did know about it, of course, but I don’t. There hasn’t been even a word mentioned about it. Monsignor Bernard appeared quite shocked that I would even broach the subject with him.”

  “Well, I’m sure you’ve read the report from the crime lab. He can’t dispute that. Or have you not shared it with him?”

  “No, I haven’t. But just because there was DNA evidence of another man in his bed doesn’t make it sexual. It could be completely innocent.”

  “Like he just loaned his bed to someone?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Even though there are two other bedrooms in the rectory?”

  Marissa smiled. “I didn’t say it would be easy to convince someone it was innocent.”

  Sam turned again toward the glass when organ music sounded again, followed by the soft vocals of the choir. She assumed the service was about to begin. She scanned the crowd, not really surprised to see Lieutenant Malone sitting near the back with who she assumed was his wife. She’d only seen pictures. She said to Marissa, “Off the record, do you think he was having an affair?”

  Marissa laughed. “No way would I answer this question if it was Hunter doing the asking. But you… you have a bit of trustworthiness about you. So yes, I think he was having an affair.”

  “Is it too bold of me to ask who with?”

  “That, I couldn’t even speculate a guess,” she said. “Which is why I assume you’re here. You want to see if someone is grieving a little more than usual?”

  Sam nodded. “Or perhaps if someone is celebrating his death instead of grieving.” She shrugged. “Juan Hidalgo was the killer, yes. The why of it is what we want to know.”

  “You don’t think he acted alone?”

  “You’re not probing for your next news brief, are you?”

  “I thought we were off the record,” Marissa said easily.

  Sam hesitated. Tori would kill her if she knew she was divulging this information. But for some reason, she trusted Marissa. She also knew they needed her as an ally. “We suspect that Juan was coerced in some way.”

  “And who do you think killed Juan?”

  “There were no physical findings. Whoever killed him did so without leaving a trace.”

  “And without forced entry.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything about these cases you don’t know?”

  “I must admit, I have been given free access to your police reports. Which is something I wasn’t expecting. After the service, I’ll be speaking to the media again. I promise I won’t divulge anything you’ve told me.” She gave Sam a sincere smile. “Despite what you all think, we really do want you to solve his murder. We just don’t want the diocese dragged through the mud in the process.”

  “Can I ask you something? Again, off the record,” Sam added.

  “Ask away.”

  “Who hired you?”

  Marissa averted her gaze, peering down to the congregation below. “I know you think this is all some big attempt at a cover-up, but it’s not.” She paused. “It is what it is. Much like a political campaign, I’m here to put a positive spin on the church—the murder, on Father Michael himself—anything to avoid even the tiniest mention of a possible sex scandal.”

  “But why is the police department—the mayor, even—so cooperative?”

  “Amazing, but not even the local media has picked up on it. Father Michael and your mayor… they’re brothers.”

  “Are you serious? But why would he want to keep silent about it?”

  “Politics. Everything is politics, Samantha.”

  “I don’t understand.” Sam was no stranger to politics, but this truly baffled her.

  “If it was discovered that Father Michael was involved in a homosexual relationship, and then murdered, the media coverage would not just be local, or even statewide. There would be national press. A Catholic priest, a very popular Catholic priest at that, leading a secret life, one that crossed over to the dark side, so to speak. It wouldn’t just be a blurb in the paper.”

  “So he wants to keep it quiet out of embarrassment?”

  “No. But as popular as Father Michael was, Gerald Stevens is equally as popular in the political arena. So popular, in fact, he plans to run for the U.S. Senate.”

  “Wait a minute. He plans to run for the Senate?” Sam moved away from the window and sat down next to Marissa. “Forgive my ignorance in all this, but how in the world does he plan to keep the existence of his brother a secret? For that matter, the murder?”

  “It wouldn’t be that difficult. Mayor Stevens’s parents divorced when he was a child. His father got custody and his mother got sent to rehab. Drugs. That’s something else you probably won’t hear about. And why would you? It’s not relevant to his politics. Besides, his father remarried and had two more kids, so there’s a whole new family. That’s what I learned from the mayor. My own research revealed that he was a troubled teen, to say the least. He’s got a rather lengthy juvenile record.”

  “Father Michael?”

  “No. Mayor Stevens. It was during that time that their mother resurfaced and got custody of Michael, in part because Gerald was so out of control. But if you’re looking at a bio of Mayor Stevens, you get father, stepmother and two stepsisters. No mention of a brother.”

  Sam shook her head. “First of all, his juvenile records could not be made public. I’m wondering how you got access to them. Secondly, why are you researching the man who hired you?”

  “I believe in being thorough. And yes, his juvenile records are sealed.” She smirked. “And no, I can’t tell you how I gained access to them. But it also piqued my curiosity—just as it has yours—as to why he didn’t want anyone to know Father Michael was his brother.”

  “I still don’t understand the necessity to keep that a secret.”

  “Voters are fickle. Are you going to vote for a man whose brother defied the Catholic Church, disregarded his vows and had an affair with another man? You’re in the conservative South. That constitutes a scandal.”

  “Give me a break. Politicians are scandalous in themselves, and others have been voted into office with far worse skeletons than having a gay brother.”

  “A gay brother who was a Catholic priest. A priest involved in a love affair. A priest possibly murdered because of that love affair.”

  “That’s still no reason to think voters would shun him because of that.”

  “But why take that chance? Stevens has no relationship with his mother, but he and Michael had become close in the last few years. To an outsider, it was simply a man and wife having the occasional dinner with a priest, which was how Stevens wanted it. At the time, he was far more worried about his mother’s drug problem being exposed.”

  “So when his brother was found murdered—found naked—he panicked?”

  Marissa smiled. “This is all off the record, right?”

  “Of course.” Then Sam smiled too. “Well, I don’t keep things from Tori.”

  “I didn’t imagine that you would.” Marissa went back to the glass, watching the procession. “It’s started,” she stated. She turn
ed back. “Mayor Stevens contacted Bishop Lewis, offered the police department’s total cooperation and offered to run interference with the media.”

  “Which is where you come in.”

  “Exactly. Which is why he wants this case solved, closed and done away with.”

  Sam walked closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with Marissa Goddard, both of them looking out over the church. Sam spotted the mayor, sitting alongside the police chief, several rows from the front. At the altar, Monsignor Bernard stood solemnly to the side as another man—she assumed Bishop Lewis—raised both hands in front of him, palms skyward, his voice echoing through the speakers.

  “In the name of the Father…”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “Damn, Kennedy, look at you,” Sikes said after a long wolf whistle. “You should show your legs more often.”

  Sam laughed good-naturedly as Sikes and Ramirez ogled her in her short skirt and heels.

  “You wore that to the funeral?”

  “I did. It’s navy. It’s perfectly appropriate.”

  “I’m surprised Hunter let you out of the house.”

  “Speaking of Tori, where is she?”

  “She went over to the crime lab. She and Mac were going over the list of names she wants to print.”

  Sam nodded, thinking how convenient it was, now that the crime lab and the medical examiner were housed in the new building not two blocks away. Last year, they were still across town.

  “Well, I should go change,” she said. “Tori was supposed to bring my bag.”

  “Yeah. It’s on your chair.”

  She pulled her chair away from her desk, finding the bag. She was on her way to the ladies’ room when Lieutenant Malone came into the squad room. He too was still dressed in the suit he’d worn to the funeral. He seemed surprised to see her dressed similarly.

  “Kennedy, you made it?”

  “To the funeral? Yes.”

  “I never saw you.”

  “I was upstairs in the old cry room,” she said. “With Marissa Goddard.”

  “Sleeping with the enemy, are you?” Sikes asked.

  “Actually, she was quite friendly,” Sam said. “Maybe because Tori wasn’t around,” she added with a smile. “They seem to rub each other the wrong way.”