A Necessary Evil

Tony didn't flinch.

'You sure you were at the rectory?'

'Yes, of course. I usually do paperwork on Fridays.'

'Uh-huh. So Monsignor O'Sullivan would know this, right?' Pakula kept up his pacing, nodding.

'Of course.'

'Why do you suppose he called you on your cell phone instead of the phone at the rectory?'

'I have no idea,' Tony said.

It was a little like watching a tennis match, only Nick couldn't tell what Pakula would do with that lame lob.

'What a minute,' Pakula said, spinning around to look at Nick and surprising them all. 'Morrelli. Nick Morrelli. Now I remember you. You quarterbacked for the Huskers 1982, '83.'

It took Nick a second or two to register the switch of subject. Earlier, when the detective thought he knew him, he had thought it might be from his stint as sheriff for Platte City, Nebraska, several years ago. After the media circus, it was difficult for anyone in the area to forget the murder of two little boys and the investigation that Nick almost flubbed up. Two men were serving life sentences and yet Nick wasn't convinced he had caught the killer. Now he found he was relieved that Detective Pakula recognized him instead, from another era, a more successful time in his life.

'Yeah, that's right,' Nick said.

'I knew I recognized that name.' But as quickly as the detective had been distracted he returned to his questions. 'So, Father Gallagher, how long have you worked with Monsignor O'Sullivan at Our Lady of Sorrow?'

'I've been the associate pastor there for almost three years.'

'Do you like him?'

'Excuse me?'

'Do you like him? Did the two of you get along? Were you buddies?'

'I wouldn't use the term buddies. We were colleagues.'

Nick noticed that Tony uncrossed his legs. Both hands were on his knees. Suddenly he didn't seem so comfortable.

'Does he travel quite a bit?'

'Depends on what you mean by 'quite a bit.''

'Why was Monsignor O'Sullivan going to Rome?'

'I believe the archbishop asked him to go. The monsignor had never been to the Vatican.'

'So he was excited about going?'

'Of course, why wouldn't he be?'

'Was he delivering anything important for the archbishop?'

'Like what?' Tony asked, and Nick wanted to grab Tony by the collar and tell him to just answer the fucking questions. But instead he shifted in his chair, trying to catch Tony's eyes, maybe give him a warning glare.

He saw Detectives Pakula and Carmichael exchange a glance. They might be pretending these were only fact-finding questions, but they were fishing for something. What exactly did they know and what did they think Tony wasn't telling them?

'We were just wondering.' This time Carmichael took over while Pakula leaned against the wall as if taking a break. Carmichael braced her elbows up on the table, but she, too, looked calm, a bit too nonchalant, and Nick wondered what they were hoping to get out of this interview.

'The archbishop,' she continued, 'asks the monsignor to go to the Vatican. Doesn't it make sense that he'd want to make the most of the trip?'

'Yes, I suppose it does.'

Tony was good at this. Nick wasn't sure why he was so surprised.

'Did Monsignor O' Sullivan carry a brown leather portfolio with him?' Carmichael moved on. Maybe he was wrong about them knowing what they were doing.

'Yes, I think I do remember a portfolio,' Tony finally answered.

'Did he have it with him yesterday?'

'I didn't see him leave for the airport.'

'But you saw him right before?'

'Yes.'

Carmichael stared at Tony, waiting for more. Nick found himself staring and waiting, too. Tony, however, just shrugged and said, 'If I didn't see him leave for the airport how would I know for sure what he took with him?'

This time there was a sigh from Carmichael. Nothing from Pakula except a slight shift in his leaning.

'Last question… for now,' she emphasized. 'Any idea why someone might want to kill Monsignor O'Sullivan?'

'Life is the ultimate gift from God. I can't even imagine who would do such a thing,' Tony said with too much of a reverent whisper. Nick watched for Carmichael's reaction, looking to see if she had noticed that Tony had managed to not answer yet another one of her questions.

Carmichael nodded without looking up from the notes she jotted. She glanced back at Pakula, then looked directly at Nick when she said, 'If we have any more questions, we'll be in touch.'

And immediately Nick figured that she and Pakula probably did know more. They hadn't been interested in his presence the entire time. But now all of a sudden they were telling him they'd have more questions. They were telling Tony's friend, the attorney.

CHAPTER 18

Washington, D.C.

Gwen Patterson made the last of her notes. She needed to head home. Maybe she'd stop at Mr. Lee's World Market, pick up fresh mozzarella, some garlic and Italian sausage to make her stuffed manicotti with Bolognese sauce. Cooking had a way of relaxing her, soothing and calming her nerves. It worked twice as well if she cooked for company. She thought about Maggie, but they had just had dinner last night. The last thing she wanted was to look too needy, especially with Maggie, especially now. She thought about R. J. Tully, Maggie's partner, but he wouldn't be back for another week. Gwen wished she didn't miss him. Two weeks of vacation with his daughter, Emma, somewhere in Florida, and already… damn, she hated to admit it, but she did miss him. Not a good sign since the two of them had decided to take it slow, to get to know each other outside the stressful confines of the FBI files that had thrown them together in the past.

Funny. She was always telling Maggie to take some chances, to throw caution to the wind and have some fun when it came to love and romance, and yet, she couldn't take her own advice. Couldn't? Or wouldn't?

A soft tap at her office door startled her.

'Come in.'

Her assistant, Dena, peeked around the door. 'I just finished. I'm taking off. Anything else I can do or get you?'

'No, I'm fine. Thanks for coming in today, especially on a holiday weekend.'

'No problem. I needed to catch up on some things.'

Gwen refrained from following up with a comment about less time spent on the phone and looking for misplaced things and perhaps she wouldn't need to come in on the weekends. But that wasn't quite fair. The girl was doing a good job. And patients liked her, felt comfortable with her. That was more important than her misplacing a file or spending an hour extracting a bracelet caught in the copy machine.

'Any plans for tomorrow?' she asked instead.

'Actually, a friend called this morning and we're thinking about trying out that new nightclub. How about you?'

'I'm hoping to catch up on some rest.'

'That's probably a good idea. You've been looking kind of… well, not quite yourself. Are you okay?'

'Yes, of course. Just a bit tired. I need a day off.'