“None I am aware of.” He broke off eye contact and removed his wire-framed glasses to rub the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “Roland has the parish books there. Anything untoward?”
“No, nothing of the sort.” Mr. Jackson patted the files on his lap. “His books always balanced, he was loved by the parish, and he was not involved in any personal scandals.”
“What about the situation with the priest you removed, the one who they say molested those boys on the field trip?”
The monsignor’s forehead gained a mild sheen, and a glance flicked between the two men. “Father Shea,” prompted Roland Jackson without necessity.
“These behaviors are the scourge of our holy church now. As you mentioned, we removed that priest immediately, and he is in a counseling program isolated from any parish, especially children.” Then Monsignor Lynch added, “He will probably face criminal charges-and should.”
Nikki said, “I hear one of the parents threatened Father Graf, accusing him of complicity.”
“You mean Mr. Hays.” He replaced his glasses. “Can you begin to imagine the pain a parent endures when his innocent child is molested?”
“Unimaginable,” she said. “I wanted to find out if you were privy to any specific threats against Father Graf made by Mr. Hays.”
Jackson shuffled his deck of pocket files and found a printout of an e-mail. “About a month and a half ago, Father Gerry received this.” He handed the page to Nikki. It was a full page, single-spaced rant laden with expletives and accusations. The last lines read, “You ever hear of a Tikrit Tune-up? I have, padre. You suffer until you pray to die and then you suffer some more. Lots more. The best part is when you call out to God for mercy and He looks down and spits upon your withered douche bag of a soul.”
“Monsignor Lynch,” said Heat, “this is not only direct and specific, but it’s very much like the way he was killed. Didn’t you take this seriously?”
“Of course, Detective, no threat would be dismissed out of hand. However, Mr. Hays was understandably agitated. Also, Father Graf wasn’t the only one he sent notes like this to, so we had no cause to focus on him alone.”
Roland Jackson backed him up. “Father Shea got one, of course, very similar.”
“Even I got one,” said the monsignor.
“Why didn’t you report this to the police?” she asked.
“We were hoping to handle this as an internal matter.”
Heat said, “And how has all that been working out for you fellas?”
Monsignor Lynch registered a weary sense of defeat. “Your point has been well made many times, Detective Heat, believe me. And, given the benefit of hindsight, well…” He lowered his eyes and then brought them back to her. “Do you have any idea what it is like to love an organization so much that it is like your family? But like any family, it has flaws that pain you, but you endure nonetheless because you trust in its greatness?”
“I think I have an idea,” she said.
The cold blast when she came out the revolving door onto First Avenue numbed Nikki’s face, and the wind was so strong that Heat had to shelter against the dark gray marble wall of the vestibule so she could make out Deputy Commissioner Yarborough over the scratchiness on her cell phone. “Is this a bad time, Nikki?”
“No, I’m just out here pounding the pavement.”
“Well, if what I hear is true, you won’t be doing that much longer. You’re the talk of the building this morning after your oral boards. I have a feeling you’re going to have bigger responsibilities than wearing down your Nine Wests in the cold.”
A fire truck rolled by with full siren and horn. Nikki plugged one ear and turned to the wall. When it had passed, she said, “That’s awesome. I have to admit, it felt like it went OK.”
Phyllis Yarborough laughed. “Love the understatement. Let me tell you how I read it. I think you’re not only going to get your gold bar, but with the sudden command void in your precinct, there’s talk they may fast-track you to a captaincy so you can assume Montrose’s job. Nothing’s firm, but this is your heads-up to hang loose on your calendar. You may get the call anytime, think you can do that?” In the brief pause when Nikki’s heart fluttered, the deputy commissioner said, “Don’t worry, Nikki. We both know you’re up for the task.”
The Waterfront Ale House, the closest eats near the OCME, was at the start of lunch rush so Nikki Heat and Lauren Parry grabbed one of the high tops in the bar rather than wait for a table. For a saloon the food was surprisingly good and always adventurous. Both ordered from the chalkboard. Nikki had the porter onion soup, her friend broke out and said she’d try the elk burger.
After Heat filled her in on her exam results and the recent call from Phyllis Yarborough, Lauren congratulated her, but seemed muted. She said that in spite of the good news, she was worried about Nikki after her ordeal in Central Park. The detective glanced out the window to Second and The Discourager parked in his blue-and-white and reassured Lauren she felt secure enough. “And after lunch I’ll be in the safest place in Manhattan. The Montroses didn’t leave any relatives, so I’m going to 1PP to see what I can do to assist with the memorial service.”
Their food arrived. The ME bisected her elk burger and asked, “No relatives? No kids?”
“The dog was their kid.”
“What kind of dog?”
“Long-haired mini dachshund, just like yours.” Heat pulled a strand of melty cheese from her spoon and could see the wheels turning in her friend. “Dr. Parry, before you get any ideas about Lola getting a big sister, the captain’s neighbor has Penny and wants to keep her.”
“Penny…,” said Lauren. “Tell me she isn’t sweet.”
“A prancing bundle of cuteness.” Heat grew reflective. “It’s one more thing that weakens the suicide theory. Cap doted on Penny. No matter what else was going on, no way he would just abandon her.”
“Good luck trying to derail where this train is heading with that,” said the ME. “This has momentum. A suicide disposition is all but signed and sealed.”
Nikki studied her friend. “Is it me, or do I hear reservations?”
“I am a skeptic by profession. That’s science.”
“But…”
Lauren Parry set down the crescent of remaining burger and dabbed her mouth. “I don’t like the bullet trajectory. It’s in the realm, but for my taste it tracks forward and to the left too much. Plus it was a chin shot.” They both knew that most shooters minimized a nonfatal miss factor by sticking the barrel in their mouths, hence the cop slang “eating your gun.” She must have sensed Nikki’s thought process and added, “Yes, there was residue on his hand.”
Heat pushed her soup aside and stared out the window, lost in thought.
She should have known something was off by the look on the lieuten ant’s face when she showed him her list. “I see… right. Just a moment, please.” The department’s funeral director went to a desk in the back of the small office suite and punched a number on his phone without sitting. While Nikki waited, she studied the Honor Roll of the Fallen-heroes remembered forever on tall brass plaques that lined the walls of the reception area. Framed pictures traced the history of memorial ceremonies for New York’s Finest from sepia to black-and-white to Kodachrome to digital. She reviewed her list, which included suggested speakers, Emerald Society bagpipes, and a request for a helicopter flyover, since that was one of Captain Montrose’s early units before he made detective.
Lieutenant Prescott returned. “Would you like to have a seat?”
“Is there a problem?”
Prescott’s face grew solemn. “Detective Heat, I appreciate your volunteering to assist us with the service for Captain Montrose, but our planning doesn’t go to anything as, well… elaborate… in this particular case.”
“Is it the helicopter? I’ve seen it done, but that’s only an idea.”
“Frankly,” he said with sympathy in his eyes, “none of it fits our planning.” When she frowned, he added, “Well, perhaps a speaker. You, if you like.”
Someone came in, and when she turned, Zach Hamner was there in shirtsleeves and tie. “You should have called me, Heat, I could have saved you a trip.”
“Why are you part of this?” she asked but directed it to Prescott.
“I phoned him,” explained the lieutenant. “In interpretive cases like this one, we consult with the
