“Well, it’s been fun. The attention, I mean. Nice way to finish up my career. Plus, Mike got a big boost from it, too, and Cil can probably write her own ticket. Everybody wins.”
Jovino frowned. “Except those two dear souls who were murdered and the misguided souls who murdered them,” he said.
“Yeah,” Rizzo said. “Except them.”
The two men sat in silence for a few moments, smoking. Then, Jovino leaned forward, cigarette smoke curling around his head, his hands now crossed before him on the desk.
“So shall we discuss it?” he said. “The reason for your visit today?”
“Yeah, sure, Til, but relax, okay? I’m not bailin’ out on you.”
The priest smiled at him. “I hadn’t suggested you were.”
Rizzo sat back in his seat. “Oh, yeah, you sorta did. It’s in your eyes.”
“Set my mind at ease then, Joe.”
Rizzo reached into his pocket and extracted a small Panasonic tape recorder/player. From another pocket, he removed a microcassette.
“There’ll never be a better time for me to get this out there,” he said. “Me and Mike are bulletproof now. Maybe not forever, but all we need is right now. You got about a half hour to spare, Father? I got somethin’ I want you to hear.”
LATER, AS Jovino showed Rizzo the door, they paused and shook hands.
“I’ll personally deliver the tape to the United States attorney for the Eastern district. First thing Monday morning.”
“Good,” Rizzo said. “They’ll have no trouble believin’ some runaway left it here at the shelter. Once they start nosing around and find out Daily’s daughter was once a runaway herself, they’ll see the logic of it.”
“Of course they will,” Jovino said, his eyes twinkling. “And despite the rather less than stellar conduct of some few of my colleagues, most people still do trust priests, Joe. They’ll believe me all right. Don’t concern yourself about that.”
Rizzo nodded, lifting his collar in anticipation of stepping out into the dark, cold evening. “Good,” he said.
Jovino shook his head, a sadness coming into his eyes. “I always knew Councilman Daily was something less than noble, Joe. But this… this tape. It’s an outrageous betrayal of trust. Of dignity. Of
Rizzo shrugged. “Do yourself a favor,” he said. “Keep it simple. What we got here is a crime, Father. Forget about what’s right, what’s wrong, what’s a betrayal.”
Rizzo opened the door, the cold wind intruding immediately, biting at the exposed skin of his face.
“What we got here is
“A crime, Father. Just a crime.”
Lou Manfredo
