While Rome Was Sleeping

by M. S. Forsythe

  He had been George Kelshaw’s key contact through the last incredible years of his life while searching, hiding, capture, escaping and evading, all the while gathering vital information. It seemed cruel and unbelievable that he should die so close to the end of the journey.

  Neil had counted on seeing George again; there was so much he wanted to know that could only be learned by seeing and talking with him in person. “How and who got to him? I was so sure we were covered. How will I tell Myra? Perhaps when I get to Seattle, Kincaid and Father Lee will be able to shed some light on what happened.”

  ✽✽✽

  7:30 AM

  The night was over a new day had begun. Mechanically Charlene went back to the living room and started to gather up the letters, holding each one gently in her hand. Her grief had been revisited, she felt drained and weary just as she had all those years before.

  The doorbell was ringing, “At this hour... who on earth?” She opened the door to a somewhat surprised Andrew Kincaid. Equally surprised, Charlie wrapped the blanket robe tighter around her body and caught her breath asking, “What are you doing here?”

  Andrew surveyed her from head to toe. Seeing her tear stained face and puffy eyes he knew she had probably cried most of the night. He announced as he entered, “I thought you could probably use some company. Besides, Mrs. Thayer or Charlene if you prefer, I felt rotten about last night. Do you have any coffee?”

  Charlene led him into the kitchen. “No, not yet... I’ll make some.”

  “If you don’t mind,” he said, “I’m considered a coffee expert. Let me do it.” Without waiting he opened the cupboard above the coffee machine, pulled out a filter as Charlene handed him coffee she had removed from the refrigerator. Rubbing his hands together he said, “Okay, coffee’s on its way. Now let’s see what we can do about your situation.” He spoke with self assurance as though he was there to settle a problem.

  Andrew followed her to the living room where he noted the letters, some of which were still on the floor by the chair in which she had spent most of the night.

  Back in the chair she curled up, feet under her, after gathering the rest of the letters and laying them on the table beside her. She looked at Andrew with an amount of appreciation. He was brash, but he had moved into a situation and brought some reality.

  “I suppose I should thank you for coming this morning,” she said softly. “It was a long night. Please don’t feel badly about last night; you were only a messenger and nothing that you did or didn’t do could have made any difference, short of not giving me the letter. Right now I’m tired and more than a little confused. I do appreciate you being here even if you did come at a time when I am probably at my worst.” She smiled a little.

  He smiled back “How about that coffee now?” he asked as he started toward the kitchen. “Do you take cream, sugar or both?”

  “Just black,” she responded.

  “Me too,” he said.

  He moved about easily in her house almost as though he knew it. He was dressed casually, flannel shirt, faded jeans and boots; much different than the night before at dinner. She commented, “You’re not quite so formal this morning.”

  “Neither are you,” he grinned.

  She liked him; his manner was warm and genuine.

  After a few swallows of coffee she set her cup down, “I think I’ll freshen up while you finish your coffee. Then we can talk and I might feel a little more alive.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” he agreed.

  As he waited, Andrew stretched and ambled around the living room particularly noticing the photographs on tables and the fireplace mantle. He was really looking for a picture of Paul Thayer. It was suddenly important to know what he looked like. There were none at least in the living room. Just photos of persons who were probably parents or relatives and some of the Bishop and Father Ben Lee with Charlene in front of St. Mark’s Cathedral.

  The house was almost familiar to Andrew. Like his parents’ house in West Seattle it was a corner bungalow; somewhat larger than some in the same block. It was situated above Sand Point Way off Northeast 73rd. There was a small view of Lake Washington although it faced the opposite direction.

  The rooms were adequately spacious and comfortable; the kitchen had been remodeled providing a more open less formal space, with a pass-through access to the dining room. A small kitchen table with two chairs occupied an area by a window looking out on a flower bed that held some bright yellow and white fall flowers. The living room colors were warm and bright, rusty reds, gold and brown hues... “Feel good colors,” he thought as he studied the books in cases flanking either side of the fireplace.

  She reappeared shortly, dressed in coffee colored slacks and a green sweater. She had obviously showered; her hair had been towel dried and was still damp; a few strands curled around her face. She looked refreshed. “Now,” she said, “let’s talk,” as she settled back into her chair.

  Andrew sat across from her on the couch. Leaning forward he asked bluntly, “What was in the letter? Look, I really want to help” he paused, “its not idle curiosity.”

  She looked at him as if trying to decide how to respond, then nodding assent she handed him the yellowed pages.

  Andrew read it slowly, noting particularly the mention of betrayal, but also the name of the Russian registered with him somehow. He made a strong mental note to check it out later, deciding not to call attention to it now. He looked at Charlene, she was watching his reaction and then speaking slowly she zeroed in on his thoughts.

  “You don’t see it do you?”

  “See what, exactly?” he shrugged, “I do see betrayal and I see a Russian guy with Paul, that’s a little odd, but ...” he paused.

  Charlene pointed to the date and said in a matter of fact tone, “You couldn’t know, but this was written nearly a year after I was notified that Paul had been killed in Vietnam. Not only that, but his best friend was in Vietnam with him when it happened. He identified the body. It was he who returned Paul’s personal effects to me, his watch his money clip and, and... ,” the words came out as though she had bottled them under pressure. Then she was quiet again looking at Andrew, waiting.

  He sat back, nodding his head and rubbing his chin pensively, “Yeah, I see it now,” he was shaking his head, “It doesn’t make sense. But then not much of what has happened in the last thirty-six hours makes a lot of sense. Charlene, what connection did you have with George Kelshaw?”

  She gave him a blank look before responding, “None. Who is George Kelshaw? Wait, give me the letter, look, Paul mentioned ‘George’ in his letter,” her voice trailing off and her eyes widened in realization, “could he be the man you talked about last night... the one who was stabbed outside the Seamen’s Center?

  “He tried to call me. I know he did and I hung up on him. I thought it was a crank call... ohhh” she remonstrated, “if I had only talked to him!!” She was on her feet, clearly upset, arms folded across her stomach as she walked toward the kitchen when the phone rang startling both Charlene and Andrew.

  Charlene grabbed the telephone as if it were a life preserver, “Hello, yes, he is here Father Ben, what’s wrong? Just a moment I’ll put him on. It’s for you, Andrew, Father Ben, he sounds upset.”

  Andrew took the phone from her hand and gestured for her to sit again while he spoke quietly with Ben. He turned to Charlene as he hung up. “Get your coat. The Center was broken into last night and thoroughly trashed. I’m going down there now and I think you should come too.”

  She nodded in agreement. Taking a jacket from the coat closet they hurried out the door. Wordlessly they got in the car.

  Putting the key in the ignition Andrew started the car then turning to Charlene he said firmly, “To finish that piece of our conversation regarding hanging up on George Kelshaw, you acted instinctively. Don’t beat yourself up about it... there’s no way to know if it’s the same guy mentioned in your letter; Father Ben would probably tell you that t
hings like that happen as they are supposed to. He’s generally right.”

  ✽✽✽

  Andrew and Charlene arrived at the Center simultaneously with a Seattle Police car. The scene inside was in unbelievable disorder... books and magazines thrown everywhere, chairs and tables overturned and Ben’s office was even worse. Ben was standing in the middle of the main room when they entered ahead of two policemen, shaking his head. Andrew looked around as he approached Ben saying, “What’ll you bet that those two bums that we threw out of here yesterday paid a little visit last night?”

  Father Ben nodded, “Yes, Andrew, I’d take odds that you are right. They were looking for something; it is clear by the way they ransacked the file cabinet and my desk drawers.”

  Hearing Ben’s comments, one of the police officers moved toward Ben, notebook in hand, and asked, “Do you think you know who might have done this, Father?”

  Again Ben nodded, “Yes, officer, I don’t want to falsely accuse anyone, however there were two men who came here yesterday that I suspect. They weren’t from any of the ships and they didn’t seem to belong. Sister Myers, Mr. Curtis and Davey Collins three of our volunteers noticed them yesterday morning. They left, but returned in the afternoon and started asking a lot of questions. Mr. Kincaid and I spoke with them and suggested they leave and not come back.”

  The policeman was writing rapidly and stopped to ask “What made you suspicious? Do you think they had something to do with the guy who got stabbed outside the Center on Tuesday?”

  By this time Charlene had cornered Sister Ruth by the office, “All right Sister Ruth, what has been going on here? I know about the stabbing, but who are the people that Father Ben is talking about? Did they threaten you?”

  Sighing and shaking her head, Sister Ruth turned over a chair and sat down, “Mrs. Thayer, it is awful to have you come to the Center and see it in such a terrible mess. Those two men who came in here yesterday just raised my hackles. They just didn’t fit and Byron agreed, but thought perhaps that they were probably harmless. That was before we knew about that poor soul being attacked out in front.” She stopped and took a deep breath. “I’m rambling dear, but it makes my blood run cold to think that they might even be the ones who stabbed that man and Andrew getting tough with them like he did.” Ruth paused again.

  Charlene looked out at Andrew talking with the officer and Ben and commented, “I think he needs to be careful. I overheard them say they thought whoever broke in was looking for something. What do you think they might have been looking for?”

  Wide eyed, Sister Ruth shook her head. “I can’t imagine there’s never any money or valuables here. Father Ben is very careful about that. And you know how tight our budget is... I think it’s just malicious vandalism.”

  After taking statements and getting descriptions from everyone the officers left admonishing everyone to stay out of the office and away from the desk and file cabinet until a team could dust for fingerprints. Since the office was the only room that had limited access by the fewest number of people, the officers thought the file cabinet and Ben’s desk might produce a useful set of the culprits’ prints.

  ✽✽✽

  Ruth and Charlene were collecting magazines and books straightening tables, carrying some things to the trash bin outside. Returning to the main room they saw Andrew and Ben by the reception desk having an animated conversation with a good looking Hispanic man whom they were informed by Byron was a Detective Jim Savalza. He was a little shorter than Andrew, about Father Ben’s height with a muscular build like that of a football player. It was clear that Andrew and Ben knew this man. As Charlene approached the trio the conversation stopped, “Interesting,” she thought.

  Father Ben, always polite smiled and extended his hand toward Charlene introducing Detective Jim Savalza who flashed a brilliant smile. “Mrs. Thayer is one of our patron saints, Detective. She has been a very good friend to the Center for some time. Thank you, Charlene for helping to clean up this mess.”

  “That’s fine, Father, I’m glad I could help.” She smiled pleasantly as she shook Jim Savalza’s hand. “How are you Detective?” she inquired politely as she glanced at Andrew with questioning eyes.

  Andrew was awkwardly quiet. Charlene continued, “Don’t let me interrupt your conversation... please, I’ll just get back to the cleanup,” she purred.

  Andrew cleared his throat. Detective Savalza frowned, his black eyes narrowed, he inquired in an official tone, “Just a minute, Mrs. Thayer, were you here yesterday?” .

  “No, Detective, I was not. It was a dreadful thing to happen here but I’m afraid I can’t shed any light on yesterday’s happenings.” Charlene knew that sounded like a foolish statement and waited for Andrew or Father Ben to comment, but both were silent.

  Detective Savalza glanced toward the office where the team was finishing up lifting fingerprints from the file cabinet and then turned toward Andrew, “I’d like to see you outside. Oh, Mrs. Thayer, by the way, I know the work you do in the diocese and on behalf of the Center. My wife, Jean Ann and I are members of Resurrection Parish. The Center is one of our parish’s favorite outreach ministries. Nice to meet you and we’ll talk again, soon,” he added in a promising tone. Charlene wondered why, but shrugged it off thinking he must be referring to her work for the Center.

  Outside, Andrew waited for the questions he knew were inevitable. Jim looked at him “You know you’ve come up in the world.”

  Andrew took the bait. “What do you mean?”

  “Charlene Thayer,” he saw color rise above Andrew’s collar, “Why else would you be at her house at 7:30 in the morning? I always thought you were the cool blonde type, nice to see I can be wrong.”

  At first Andrew was all set to deny the implied liaison, and then thought better of it. It would be less complicated if Jim Savalza didn’t ask any more questions, but Andrew knew he had to be careful. Charlene Thayer might not be too keen on the idea. Half smiling he looked at Jim and asked suspiciously, “How did you know I was at her house at 7:30? Are you having me tailed?” he asked irritably.

  “Could be simple deduction, my friend, I was on my way to your office and saw you leave; an hour and half later you and she turn up here, together. But as a matter of fact I did follow you thinking I might catch you at a more congenial location for this little talk we are about to have about Kelshaw. Oh, by the way, I know you didn’t spend the night... just thought I’d throw that in.” Detective Savalza was having a good time watching Andrew squirm if ever so slightly.

  “Now for the little talk,” he paused, “I know you were at the hospital with the victim when he died, but I don’t think I’m getting the whole story. You know how intuition keeps prodding? Well, that’s what mine is doing.

  “It would be very neat to wrap this whole thing up and just write it off as some unknown derelict getting mugged and stabbed. Unidentified assailants get clean away, Father Ben gives last rites, fine’, end of story. But we both know it’s not as simple as that; and the fact that you and Ben were with Kelshaw when he died tells me there is more, maybe much more. Oh yes, before I forget, I also know that the guy placed a call to Mrs. Thayer yesterday. Now do you want to share a little more or do I have to make this harder? It’s your choice!”

  Andrew nodded and then looking directly at the detective responded, “You’re right, Jim, there is more to it, but I can’t tell you right now because I don’t really know anything. I have a couple of hunches and a whole lot of questions of my own.

  “I think we can help each other. It will be very interesting to see whose prints turn up in Ben’s office. I have a couple of leads that may pan out. Give me some breathing room will you?” He hoped his sincerity would buy him some time.

  Jim’s dark eyes scrutinized Andrew’s face with a penetrating look and finally he nodded. “Okay, but remember, this is not just breaking and entering—there is a homicide that I don’t believe for one minute was a simple mugging and I will get to the bottom of it
one way or the other. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Crystal,” Andrew sighed. “Can I go now?”

  Jim Savalza shrugged, “Sure, for now, just don’t forget what I said. I’ll be seeing you later,” he remarked over his shoulder as he walked toward his car.

  Charlene opened the door and stepped out saying to Andrew, “I have to go and pick up my car. Can you drop me or ...?”

  “Of course, just let me tell Father Ben,” Andrew stuck his head back in and Charlene heard him say “I’ll see you later, Ben. Sister Ruth, why don’t you call some of the other volunteers on the list and see if you can get some help cleaning up?”

  Glancing at his watch, Andrew shook his head, “Wow, look at the time and I am employed. I was hoping to finish our conversation before all this happened, but I guess you probably have figured out that there’s a lot more to talk about, huh?”

  “I would say so, yes. But for now, Andrew, just drop me by the garage; we’ll talk later, right now I just want to get my car, go home, and think about this.” She spoke the words softly. It was almost like last night only this time she wasn’t running away, just retreating.

  ✽✽✽

  8:00AM

  Monte arrived for work on time Thursday morning but he was tired. The late hours of last night plus his explosive temper tantrum and physical exertion had almost got the better of him.

  His partner, Ed Peterson, looked at him. “What’s the matter, Monte, you sick? You look terrible.”

  Monte, who had been looking through papers on his desk, sat down and drew in a deep breath. “I’m all right, just tired. I’ve been working long hours on this case—I just need some time off.” His voice dropped as he examined a report.

  “What case is that, Monte?” Ed was puzzled at Monte’s behavior lately. “Anything I should be helping with? After all, I am supposed to be your partner you know. What case are you talking about?”