Sins of Our Fathers

by A. Rose Mathieu

  Elizabeth broke the silence. “What is this place? It looks like a cross between a frat house and an altar.”

  Father Parker offered no response as he took in the makeshift room.

  She approached the table and lifted one of the candles that was turned on its side. A deep layer of dust covered it, along with everything else on the table. Beneath the candle, a darker red ring formed where the table had been protected from dust and aging. As she redeposited the candle on the table right side up, she noticed a small pendant the size of a dime partially embedded in the wax. Elizabeth used her fingernails to scrape around the wick and free the disc.

  She continued to shine the light around the walls and took in the display of spider webs crisscrossing the walls and ceiling. She stopped on a crude wooden cross made of two sticks tied together hanging upside down on the wall above the table.

  Now officially spooked, Elizabeth shoved the pendant into her pant pocket and turned to find the father who had been unusually quiet. Not finding him, she walked back toward the entrance of the room and softly called out, “Father, where are you?” She received no answer. “Father?” she called a bit louder.

  “Yes?” His voice caused her to catapult and send the flashlight across the room. Father Parker chased after the light.

  “Jesus Christ!” She remembered who her companion was and quickly recovered. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that, I meant damn, darn it.”

  “It’s all right, Elizabeth. In times like these, a curse word or two is appropriate. Besides, who’s squeamish now?”

  “That’s not fair. I didn’t go creeping up behind you after coming across some religious altar thingy.”

  Elizabeth turned to continue down the tunnel, and Father Parker stayed close beside her. Less than fifty feet beyond the cavern, the tunnel came to an abrupt end. The passageway was fully obstructed by rock debris. Apparently, the tunnel was not as sturdy as Elizabeth had claimed.

  “Are you ready to go back now?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  Father Parker didn’t hesitate to lead the way back with the light in hand, leaving her to keep up.

  They reached the parking lot in a fraction of the time compared to their inbound trek. Elizabeth stopped at the school entrance as they were leaving and took several photos of the gates, including close-ups of the engraved cross encircled by the Latin words. As she and Father Parker drove back to the church, she asked, “What does that old school have to do with the murders? The school was closed down long before Raymond was born.” She gestured with her right hand to emphasis the point.

  “Can you put both hands on the wheel, please?”

  At the end of their drive, Elizabeth pulled into the church lot, and he breathed a sigh. “Thank you for coming with me, Father.”

  “I’d say it was my pleasure, but I wouldn’t want to lie. Let’s say it was an adventure, as you called it.”

  Satisfied with that, she gave him a smile.

  He exited the car and bent his head into the door. “Please keep me posted on what you’re doing. It seems very dangerous, and I’d like to help if I can.”

  “As long as there are no rats?” Elizabeth asked.

  Father Parker chuckled and closed the door with no response.

  *

  Elizabeth returned to the office late for a scheduled client. She rushed through the front door and issued several apologies to an elderly African American woman sitting by the window.

  Amy pulled her to the side. “What’s up with you?”

  “What?”

  “What were you doing, crawling in an attic?”

  “No, crawling in a tunnel.” Elizabeth looked down at her pantsuit that was covered in a fine layer of dust, with a few cobwebs mixed in. Black streaks were smeared across her chest from squeezing herself through the grate.

  “Fine, don’t tell me, but you have to get yourself cleaned up,” Amy said.

  Elizabeth turned to the elderly woman. “Mrs. Francis, I’m so sorry. I’ll be right back.”

  After making herself as presentable as possible, but with a black streak still across her chest, she set out drafting a healthcare proxy for Mrs. Francis. She had drafted many over the years, so she was able to accommodate the woman’s needs quickly to make up for the time she left her sitting in the lobby. As Mrs. Francis signed the documents, relief washed over her face. “Now I can die in peace.”

  Elizabeth wanted to chuckle at the remark but realized that it wasn’t meant to be a joke. She escorted the frail woman back to the reception area.

  “Mrs. Francis, how did you get here?”

  “I took the bus.”

  “Oh, I can’t let you take the bus back.”

  “It’s no problem, child. I was taking the bus before you were born.”

  “Please let me call you a cab.”

  “Oh no, child, cabs are too costly.”

  “Not this cab. It’s free. It’s a special service. Please,” Elizabeth begged.

  “Are you sure it’s free?”

  “Absolutely. Have a seat, and I’ll get that cab for you.”

  Elizabeth walked back to her office and called the local cab company. She gave them her credit card number for the fare and a hefty tip if the driver got there in five minutes. Three minutes later, Mrs. Francis was safely tucked inside the back of a cab. Elizabeth ducked into the cabby’s window. “Take good care of her. She’s a special one,” and stuck a twenty-dollar bill in his front shirt pocket to add to the generous credit card tip.

  The cab driver beamed. “Thank you, ma’am.”

  Elizabeth stood watching the cab until it turned the corner and then made her way back into the clinic. She shoved her hands in her pockets as she walked past the bank of cubicles and felt cold metal in her right pocket. She pulled out the small coin-shaped pendant and studied it. It appeared to have been blackened by the candle, which made it difficult for her to make sense of the image. She rubbed at the pendant with the bottom of her shirt.

  A picture of a man clothed in robes carrying a child on his back emerged. As the writing became visible, she read, “Saint Christopher, protect us,” around the circumference of the image. She figured finding a religious medal in a hangout behind a Catholic school wasn’t so unusual and dismissed it.

  Determined to find the link between the school and the murders, Elizabeth ran a search on her computer for the history of Saint John’s, but the information was sparse. A single news article revealed that it was an all-boys Catholic school founded in 1943. Years of financial difficulties resulted in the school’s closure in 1982. Beyond that, the school seemed to drop off the grid.

  Further research on the tunnels yielded even less information. Mining tunnels, some legal and others not, were dug throughout the state over a hundred-year period starting in the mid 1800s. She could find no specific details on mines in the area of Saint John’s, which led her to believe that the tunnel was an excavation of the illegal kind.

  Elizabeth pulled up an aerial map of the area and saw the skeletal remains of both the school and the mill. She recalled the concrete door that she and Father Parker discovered in the tunnel and wondered if similar tunnels ran toward the mill. If they did, why? Perhaps another adventure is in order.

  Chapter Fifteen

  After a cursory grand jury hearing the week prior, Raymond Miller was again held to answer for the charge of a single count of first-degree murder, not to Elizabeth’s surprise. It was the trial that would test the government’s case against him.

  Elizabeth sat at the counsel table as the court clerk read off the instructions for jury selection. Raymond was conspicuously absent from the proceedings, with the judge’s approval. Elizabeth feared that Raymond would be a distraction to her and the potential jurors if he had to sit through the arduous process of jury selection. As the morning wore on with mundane procedural issues, Judge Rose Walters called an early recess, ordering all parties and potential jurors back at one thirty to start the selection process. Elizabeth
waited until the jury pool was released before she packed her belongings to head for an early lunch.

  *

  Mayor Reynosa leaned back in his leather chair, tipping it perilously toward the window behind him without care. He clutched a small stack of papers in his hands as he pored over the list of the potential jurors.

  “When does jury selection begin?”

  “This afternoon.”

  The mayor ran his finger down the paper and stopped on a name. “Bruce Jessup, on disability. Filed for bankruptcy. He’s our man. Get him on the jury.”

  ADA Burke agreed and rose from his chair opposite the mayor. As he pulled on his coat, he asked, “How is this going to work?”

  “Let me worry about that. You do your job and leave it to me.”

  Burke shook his head and turned to depart. He pulled open the door and found Simon at the ready. He offered a nod to acknowledge him as he passed.

  *

  Elizabeth resumed her seat at the counsel table and propped her hand under her chin, a little sleepy from lunch. The names of the first twelve potential jurors were read, and she watched as each rose and took their seat in the jury box.

  She observed what potential jurors brought with them to keep themselves occupied. She favored those that brought books over those that brought cell phones or other electronic devices, believing that jurors that read as a pastime would be more methodical and patient. Those that preferred mysteries would be more engaged in the minute details and fitting the pieces together and lead the group in discussions. Those that read romance novels would be more emotional and could be easily drawn in by the puzzle solver. Those that needed electronic devices to fill their time wanted quick answers and would rush to judgment. She needed the passionate thinkers on this jury.

  As the afternoon continued, one juror was dismissed because of her difficulty with the English language, a second because he expressed an opinion that organized religion was nothing more than voodoo. Elizabeth pondered that statement for a while as ADA Burke jumped up requesting that the juror be excused with cause. Elizabeth kind of liked the juror. Too bad. Two more jurors were excused due to their religious beliefs and another very pregnant juror because of an impending due date. By the end of the afternoon, Burke used all of his peremptory challenges to dismiss jurors without cause, which she found unusual, but assumed that he had a method similar to Elizabeth’s preference for readers.

  After a day of voir dire, a jury of eight women and four men with two alternates was impaneled. Elizabeth blew a sigh of relief. Although she disliked this part of the process, she felt good about the selection. The jury was full of bookworms.

  *

  “We have a problem,” ADA Burke said as soon as Mayor Reynosa picked up the line.

  “Now what?” Reynosa asked impatiently.

  “Jessup is the first alternate on the jury.”

  “What the hell are you doing over there?”

  Burke released an irritated breath. “I don’t have control over this. You’re lucky he made it there. Campbell didn’t use all her peremptory challenges.”

  “Remember who you’re talking to. I can pull up my shirttails that you so comfortably ride on.”

  Burke had his eye on the district attorney’s seat, but he didn’t have the political capital to make it happen, at least not without the discreet help from the mayor. Mayor Reynosa wouldn’t balk at discarding his long-term relationship with the current district attorney if it suited him. As far as the mayor was concerned, the current district attorney was too squeamish and continually required cajoling to do the work that the city needed done.

  A stubborn silence filled the line, a battle of wills. The mayor broke first. “Christ, I’ll take care of this. Just do your job.”

  Burke disconnected the line without a further word.

  *

  Bruce Jessup exited his rusted two-door coupe and slammed the door shut. The door bounced back open in an act of rebellion. He slammed it again, jamming his hip against it to keep it closed. He crossed the cracked asphalt that was dimly lit by a single streetlight and entered the liquor store, setting off a beep as he entered and alerting the clerk at the front to his presence. Jessup pulled open a glass door that stood in the back. The refrigerated air hit his face, causing him to blink. He grabbed his usual six-pack of beer and retreated to the counter, pointing to a case of cigarettes above the clerk’s head. “One pack of the red ones.”

  After he completed his purchase, Jessup yanked a can free from its plastic holder and popped it open. He threw back his head, drinking the contents as he walked to his car. Only when he reached his car did he notice the man sitting on the trunk. “Get the fuck off my car, asshole.”

  The man slid off the car and leaned against it. “No disrespect intended, man. Just wanted to talk.”

  “What do you want?” Jessup demanded.

  “Just looking to help you out a bit. Make some cash.”

  Jessup took another large gulp from the can. “I don’t sell drugs. Now go.”

  “Oh no, this is much simpler and safer and much more lucrative. You interested?”

  “I’m listening.”

  They stood close together as Jessup listened with rapt attention.

  Chapter Sixteen

  On the first day of trial, Elizabeth’s mother sat in the front row behind Raymond, who was dressed in blue slacks, a white dress shirt with sleeves too long, and a silk striped tie, loaners from Elizabeth’s father, and it showed. Judge Rose Walters arrived in the court more than half an hour late and took the bench. Everyone sat again as the judge called the court to order. She called Elizabeth and ADA Burke to the bench. The judge advised them that juror number three would be replaced by the first alternate. She explained that the court received notification from juror three’s daughter that the elderly woman was hospitalized the night before from a fall, resulting in a broken hip.

  After a series of procedural discussions and detailed instructions to the jury, Judge Walters ordered ADA Burke to call his first witness.

  “The People call Detective Grace Donovan to the stand.”

  Although she knew Grace was on the witness list, Elizabeth still felt her heart quicken at the sound of the name. Trying to feign disinterest, Elizabeth busied herself with her trial notes as Grace passed and settled herself on the stand. She was dressed in a black suit with a white collared shirt, and Elizabeth chastised herself for not looking sooner because now she didn’t know if Grace was wearing pants or a skirt, as her bottom half was hidden below the witness stand.

  Elizabeth smiled to herself at the absurd thought and leaned back in her chair and quietly observed as the ADA and Grace went through a well-orchestrated question and answer session in which Grace detailed the arrest and search of Raymond Miller, after responding to a call for trespassing. Grace’s stop and search was textbook, leaving no room for Elizabeth to challenge it, which was crucial to the DA’s case. The search warrant and subsequent confession were all based on Grace’s arrest and search of Raymond. Pleased with himself, the ADA sat back in his chair and turned to Elizabeth with a smug look. “Nothing further of this witness, Your Honor.”

  “Ms. Campbell, do you wish to question the witness?” asked the judge.

  “Yes, Your Honor, thank you.”

  Raymond started fidgeting, bored of the proceedings. She knew that he didn’t understand most of what was happening.

  “I just need a moment, Your Honor.” Elizabeth laid a soothing hand on his arm and calmly asked him to relax. She tore a few pieces of blank paper from her legal pad and asked him to draw some pictures.

  As she returned her attention to the court, Elizabeth was taken aback by Grace’s direct stare. It was the first eye contact they made all morning. Uncertain if Grace was trying to unsettle her, she took in a fortifying breath before proceeding. “Detective Donovan, the call complaining about Mr. Miller trespassing, that call was anonymous, correct?”

  “Yes, I believe it was.”

&n
bsp; “Isn’t it true that Mr. Miller had been going through trash cans and Dumpsters collecting recyclables for years prior to that arrest?”

  “That is what I understand,” came the curt reply.

  “And at no prior time was there a complaint about Mr. Miller, correct?”

  “I suppose.”

  “So why that day?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand the question.”

  “Why on that day, the day that Raymond Miller was carrying the cross in his pocket, was an anonymous call placed about Raymond Miller?”

  “I don’t have any knowledge of that,” Grace responded coolly.

  “Objection, speculation,” the ADA interjected.

  “Sustained,” said the judge.

  Elizabeth was unperturbed; she didn’t really expect the answer. She was simply trying to plant the seed in jurors’ minds. “Detective, you are currently investigating a new murder, a Catholic priest. Correct?”

  “Yes, but I’m not at liberty to discuss that case. We’re currently investigating it.”

  “Isn’t it true that this latest victim had a carving on his stomach that looked like this?” She raised a copy of the sketch of the circle with the three triangles.

  The ADA jumped up. “Objection! That case has no relevance here. It’s an ongoing investigation, and as the detective stated, she cannot compromise her investigation by discussing it in open court.”

  Elizabeth calmly responded, “Your Honor, this case has been all over the news. This carving,” she pointed to the sketch, “has been spelled out in detail in at least four papers. I’m not asking the detective to discuss anything that hasn’t already been released to the public.”