“That’s all?” I could tell you more darlin’ Will, but hauling your charming butt out to New Jersey tomorrow just might be good for you. New Jersey makes you appreciate NYC all the more, yes it does.
“Yeah, but it’s enough to go on for now. What about you and that missing kid case?”
“Oh you know, working the case. Might have a lead. I have a key from evidence that the sister doesn’t recognize. It’s not a locker key as the evidence people first surmised. Looks like it might be a key to some box or something. I’m going out to the McElroy property tomorrow to snoop around. With,” I add, “the sister’s full permission.”
“Alright. If I can help in any way, let me know.”
“Fix my ticket.”
“What ticket? What the hell are you talking about?”
“The one I got for illegally parking in front of a loading dock. I told the cop we were related.”
“Related how?” he asks suspiciously.
“I told him the truth. I said I was your ex-wife but that we’re still friends. He didn’t buy the friends part though.”
Will laughs. “Damn right he didn’t buy it. You of all people should know that cop divorces are never friendly.”
“That's what the officer said.” I look at him and say teasingly, “You mean you’re not my friend?”
“Oh I am,” he says watching me spoon whipped cream into my mouth. “But I’d like to be more than just a friend, Cate.”
I think about that statement.
“You just feel that way because Francesca’s coming to town and you want to put on a good front for her.”
“Maybe, but it’s not only Francesca. Her coming here did get me thinking, but I do miss you. Don’t you ever miss what we had?”
“Will, what we had was chaos, you know that. I will grant you that the sex was phenomenal, but that’s only one part of what makes a marriage work. Face it, I’m not what you want in a partner. And truthfully, you’re a good man but you’re not good for me.”
“It’s possible we were too young to appreciate our differences, you ever think about that? We’re older now. Maybe we could learn to see the true value of being different and work through it.”
“Stop right there. I can’t see us working through any differences. All I can see is that we’d be just fine in the sex department, but that we’d be at each other’s throats the rest of the time. It wouldn’t be good for either of us.”
He sips his coffee and looks out at the streets. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”
“I am right.” I touch his hand and his fingers closed hopefully over mine. “Besides I’m with someone else now.”
He flashes a sarcastic look and pulls his hand away. “Oh, right. I forgot; Doctor Death.”
“Not fair Will.” I say gently but firmly. “So not fair.”
“Sorry. It just pisses me off that’s all. Whatever it is with him and you, I just can’t see it. But who am I to say anything, huh?” He looks at me then out to the street again. “Anyway, it’s your life such as it is.”
I concentrate on finishing my coffee. It has to be a male thing seriously; he knows I’m with Giles and he has this sudden urge to get me permanently back into his life? Until I started dating Giles a few months ago that wasn’t the case at all. Oh, he always joked around about us getting together, and made numerous sexual innuendoes about our fun times. In fact I have been seduced into bed, by his charm twice since our divorce, although technically we weren't in an actual bed. But he never said what he’s said today: We were too young to appreciate each other’s differences … maybe now that we’re older we could learn to see the true value of our differences. What crap! I feel as if my life has suddenly turned into a soap opera.
“How’s Debbie?” I ask remembering how she poured wine into my pricey crystal glasses.
“Married and pregnant with her second. It’s been more than five years, Cate.”
I have nothing to say. I guess she didn’t wait around for our divorce to be finalized so she could have Will as her own.
“Oh, well good for her,” I sniff. I know I sound bitchy, but I don’t care.
We don’t talk for a few minutes then Will's phone breaks the silence.
“Benigni. Yeah, I got it. I’ll be there.” He turns to me. “I’ve got to get back to the station. Finish your coffee then I’ll drive you back to your office.”
“Is it urgent?”
“No, just something about a call I made to the Diocese of Paterson. Someone there returned my call. The dispatcher says the guy sounded pretty pissed. He’s saying they don’t know this priest and then asked what organization was looking for him. Says we’re the second call they got today about this so-called non-existent priest. He didn’t elaborate, but it sounds weird. I have to go over a few things at my desk and then call them back.”
I don’t say anything about the word snap, but I make another mental note to Google it back at my office. There’s something not quite kosher, for want of a better word, about no one having any knowledge of the murdered priest.
After I get out of his car in front of my office building Will gets out of the driver’s side, walks around to the sidewalk, and leans against the passenger side door. He was not too talkative on the drive back and now just says, “I need to start going to the gym again. My legs feel cramped from sitting in the car. Tomorrow’s going to be a real joy going to Paterson, New Jersey.”
“I know,” I answer him, “It will probably take almost your entire day.”
“Hell, yeah, well, those are the perks of being in my business. Hope there’s a good diner out there.”
“In New Jersey? The state has more diners per capita than any other,” I laugh. “You’ll find one.”
“If I get any more info today on the murdered priest, I’ll call you, okay?”
“Sure. Me too. If I hear anything that is.”
“Promise?”
I nod my head and turn to say goodbye. His arms go around me as he catches me in a full mouth kiss. I’m surprised but don't resist. His mouth is sweet and warmly familiar and it feels really good to be in his arms. The kiss is passionate and long. I hear someone walking on the street whistle and call out, “Atta boy! Go for it!”
When he pulls me against his chest, I rest there inhaling his delicious scent, listening to his heartbeat, and feeling the heat from his body. His male equipment” is rising to the occasion and I feel a little dizzy. My body automatically presses into his and I remember that hot, need I always have for him. Damn! He feels so good.
“I better go,” I whisper into his shirt, but I don’t move. After a long few minutes of pressing together, he pulls back and lets me go.
“Yeah, um, okay.” I see him do a quick adjustment of his pants and I smile. “I’ll call you if there’s anything new tomorrow.” His voice sounds husky and low.
“Great. Thanks. ‘Bye Will.”
He doesn’t say anything more, just gives me a half wave as he walks around to the driver’s door and gets in his car. Then he’s gone.
****
Upstairs in my office Myrtle is talking on the phone and she hands it to me as I walk in.
“Hello, this is Cate Harlow.”
“Cate?” I hear a breathless Marie on the other end.
“Hi Marie. What’s up?”
“I just called you to tell you that I did what you said I should do. That man I told you about? His name is David. Anyway, I asked him to come for dinner Saturday and guess what?”
“He said yes?”
“Oh, I’m sorry; you must think I’m an idiot to call about this. I mean this is your place of business, but well, you were so nice to give me advice at lunch and I wanted to let you know that I took it and it worked! He did say yes.”
“I’m happy for you Marie, really. And don’t ever feel that you can’t call here just to talk. It may be a place of business but I’m always available for more than that.”
“Oh gosh, thank you. I…I…thanks again.”
I hear her sigh and then she says, “Oh and I do have a bit of business to tell you. I asked Mr. O’Leary to hold the key for you so just go over there tomorrow morning. It’s the house to the left of mine, you know, as you’re facing my front door, the one on your left side. He’ll be there.”
“Thanks Marie. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Thank you Cate,” she says softly before hanging up.
“It's so nice to just drive for awhile. Where are we going Joey.”
Chapter 11
We are SNAP, the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests. We are the largest, oldest and most active support group for women and men wounded by religious authority figures (priests, bishops, deacons, nuns and others). We are an independent and confidential organization, with no connections with the church or church officials. We are also a non-profit, certified 501 (c) (3) organization and we are here to help.
SNAP was founded by Chicago's Barbara Blaine in 1988. Since then, SNAP has helped thousands of survivors. We offer support in person, (via monthly self-help group meetings in chapters across the country), over the phone, online, and twice-a-year at national meetings.
I’m sitting at the computer desk in my living room waiting for Will. After reading about this abuse survivors’ organization, I left my office early and called him.
There’s a lot more on the SNAP website including personal statements made by the survivors. Their stories are chilling. Childhood innocence is such a precious thing and these degenerates in the clergy stole it from their victims. I think back to my own sheltered childhood. There were times when I felt my Mom and Dad sheltered me too much but after reading these accounts, I suddenly feel intensely grateful that my parents were so protective of me. These adults writing their stories were not so lucky; they were victims of pedophiles.
Pedophilia is a curious word. It comes from the joining of two Greek words; paîs, meaning child, and philía meaning friendly love or friendship. Yet the one word they form are linked forever in modern infamy as an act so atrocious that simply saying it makes you want to vomit.
I look at my coffee table. After I called Will, I put out chips and dip and a pitcher of ice tea. I figured Will might be a little hungry. I don’t really cook but any port in a storm and any food when you’re hungry are my mottos. My bell rings and Will’s there. He walks in and pulls a chair up to my computer.
“Okay, what have you got?”
He doesn’t say anything about how I got the information. He knows better than to question me on what I do. I jump right in telling him about my phone call.
“So the older priest I spoke to at the diocese office thought I was from SNAP after I mentioned Father Francis Xavier Murphy whom he claimed didn’t exist. The organization I told you about on the phone?” Will nods. “That’s a telling bit of suspicion right there. Piecing it together now, we can assume that Murphy was a child molester, a disgrace to the diocese. That’s why he was living in an apartment away from any rectories and that’s why I was suddenly cut off on the phone.
“The thing that bothers me is that this Francis Murphy had still been on the loose, so to speak, probably for years. The church did nothing to bring him to justice. In fact, they were allowing him to live rent-free in an apartment owned by the diocese and more than likely were giving him some type of financial support. They weren’t concerned with him continuing his pedophilia, they were simply condoning it by hiding it.”
“The connection to the other priest murder last year?”
“The other priest I found last year, no one knew a lot about him either or maybe they weren’t talking. As I said in my report to the police, it’s a transient community. He was more than likely moved from one parish to another and finally ended up teaching theology at a Catholic college. If he was a pedophile too then it can also be assumed that he was being protected by the church. In the church but at the same time not, if that makes any sense. The murders have to be connected.”
“By what, groups of abuse survivors who have become vigilantes?”
“That’s a strong possibility, Will.”
“It is. Do you think it’s this SNAP group?”
“No, no I don’t. Read the personal stories. None of them sound like they themselves want to harm the priests who committed the crimes; they just want justice and they want it done legally.”
“But there are other groups out there. This has to be investigated.”
“I’m already on it.”
I hear Will sigh with exasperation. “No.”
“Why not? All I’m doing is finding out information about survivors’ groups. It’s easy enough to do, Will.”
“Yes, it is. Tedious but easy and I’ve got an entire department of people who can research and get information. Let it go Cate. I’m not even asking you how you found out about SNAP but I am telling you not to go any further on this.”
“I Googled it.”
“Let it go. We’ll handle it.”
“But this is personal."
“Exactly how is it personal? You don’t know either one of the victims.”
“The whole thing started on my case. I found the first body and the evidence.”
“Which you rightly turned over to the police. Let me deal with this investigation.”
“Sometimes I can get a lead on something you can’t find right away. My methods may not always be legal, but they get results.”
“Don’t tell me anything else. I don’t want to know about illegal.”
“All I meant was that you have to identify yourself as a detective, I don’t. I can play a game to find out what I need to know.”
“What about your cold case? Doesn’t the woman who is paying you deserve your full attention on it?”
“She has it. I’m going out to her house tomorrow, I already told you. Will, I’m only investigating survivors’ groups online in my free time. I might ask some of my contacts on the street if they’ve heard about any of these groups but that’s it. How can that hurt?”
“You know, I don’t understand why you never became a real detective.” He stresses the word real. “You’re dogged enough.”
“Why? Because I’d be hamstrung by bullshit bureaucracy. As a private detective I have more leeway. I’m going to do this Will, make no mistake about that. What I find out I’ll give to you.”
Big exasperated sigh, then, “Alright. I can’t stop you, God knows, but don’t get yourself into anything you can’t easily get out of. If these murders are being done by vigilantes, you have to figure that they won’t tolerate anyone interfering with what they’re doing.”
“No problem. I know how to take care of myself. I’m a girl with a gun, remember?”
“Right, and the bad guys and girls have no weapons of their own, I assume?”
“Don’t worry about me. Concentrate on what you have to do out in the field tomorrow. Have fun in Jersey.”
“Just watch out for yourself.”
“I will,” I say as I pour him some tea and proffer the chips. He digs in like a man who has missed dinner and I decide to microwave him some pizza rolls and chicken nuggets. I’m not the best cook in the world but I can microwave with the best of them. Will seems genuinely happy that I have snack food and we sit and talk about the case while he eats. Me, I have no appetite tonight. The lunch I had with Marie has kept me going all day. Not to mention the fact that the personal stories on the SNAP site have made me feel a little sick.
“Cate, this whole pedophile priest thing has been in the news a lot and it’s not going away. It’s even been proven that child-molesting priests were given money by the Catholic hierarchy to help them start new lives. I have to make sure that the media doesn’t pick up on any information we may have about vigilantes. The last thing we want is for the murderer or murderers to get wind that we’re onto to something and go into hiding.”
I nod my head and tell him I completely understand; that the less people who know he’s investigating organizations like SNAP the better.
“Be careful who you ask about vigilante groups, Cate. Keep it on the DL. Can you trust your contacts?”
“Yes. I’ve never had one who let me down or given me away yet. Don’t be concerned on that score.”
Will gets up, stretches, and says, “Thanks for the snacks. I’m beat and I want to get up early tomorrow. Unless of course you want me to stay?” His eyes have that sexy look even though his whole body oozed fatigue. I look at him and think about his offer. Maybe I should let him stay and take a power nap. When we were together I remember his exhaustion would give way to incredibly hot sex after thirty minutes of eyes closed, feet up rest. Then I also remember Giles and that I should be a good girl, damn it.
“No, that’s okay. You’d probably fall asleep on me, pun intended.”
“You won’t know for sure unless I stay.”
I lead him to the door.
“Go home and get some real sleep. I’ll see you Saturday at eight. And I will look ravishing, I promise you that.”
He smiles. “I know you will,” is all he says as he gives me a tired, chaste kiss on the forehead.
****
The McElroy house looks the same as the last time I was there except that the lilac bush is blooming and the scent is sweet and full. I park the Edge across the street, get out and walk over to the house on the left. An elderly man is on the side of the house weeding and I see a watering can next to the steps.
“Mr. O’Leary?” I call out, a little louder than I intended.
“That’s me,” he says straightening up. “I’m not deaf though, miss. A little arthritis and stronger glasses but my hearin’ is damn near perfect.” He smiles at me, removes his gardening glove, and extends a hand. “Always remove the gloves to shake hands with a lady. You are a lady, I assume?”
“I like to think I am,” I say grasping his hand. His handshake is firm and positive. “My name is Cate Harlow, sir. Nice to meet you. I’m here for the house key from Marie McElroy.”
“Yup. Young Marie gave it to me.” He fishes in his shirt pocket and retrieves an old-fashioned key which he hands to me.
For I Have Sinned a Cate Harlow Private Investigation Page 9
