“Break it up! This is the po…”
Bloody and exhausted, they all looked at each other. Had they heard what they though they heard? Then a second voice rang out, a frantic voice, a desperate voice.
“You bastards just killed a cop!”
Like cattle, the two groups gathered and ran in opposite directions.
14. The Condo
James and Julie were too tired for sex. She’d had a late dinner in Wilmington, Delaware. He and Gomez had pulled an extra half shift to get through the rest of the letters in the first box of diocese hate-mail. All the letters were variations on the same theme. The majority suggested castration for the accused priests and Archdiocese leaders, but not death. Those that did mention death put it in the context of eternal hell fire. The lefty letters with P.C. slants attempted to appeal to reason. The militant ones contained a bunch of name-calling and not much else. Nothing popped.
She patted him on the chest.
“I can tell you’re still awake, baby.”
He pulled her close.
“Yeah, I’m still awake.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
He thought she’d never ask.
“Did you keep up with any of the Philly Archdiocese molestation stuff?”
“Here and there. Do you think the killing had anything to do with them?”
“Maybe. Do you remember the one from the school? One of the teachers…”
“The shower thing. Yes, I remember sort of.”
He adjusted his pillow as he tried to form a complicated thought into coherent sentences.
“I’m not sure what to... it probably doesn’t have anything to do with anything, but you know Saint Al’s is building a new church. Right?”
“Yes, I do. The magazine already has copies of the blue prints.”
“Then you’ve seen the press. The Diocese is hailing the project as a symbol of Catholic strength. Saint Al’s has been the fastest expanding parish in the territory for the past five years, and the Diocese didn’t seem to care until the trials started.”
He paused and rubbed his temples.
“I’m sorry. I digress. What I’m getting at is the church is important. Getting a position there would be a big deal.”
“Sounds like it.”
“The priest that’s been in the middle of this case…Father Leo…he seems like a good guy. The thing is he’s only been at Saint Al’s for three months, and I think his appointment was a ‘thank you’ for services rendered during the Bell trial.”
He told Julie about Leonardo Pasucci being a character witness for the defense and how the accused priest probably owes him his freedom.
“Do you think he perjured himself?”
“No. And look, I work for the city. I know everything is political. If he’s getting his back scratched for scratching someone else’s, more power to him. But facts are facts. He’s one of three people who knew where Ryan was staying the night he was murdered. We’ve got a guy who, according to Leo, confessed to the killing in a confessional and then disappeared into thin air. If the killer was going to try something else, the press conference would have been the perfect place.”
“And Leo was on the stage.”
“Leo was on the stage. Yes. Then again, he all but alibied out the night of the killing. So far, I haven’t allowed this garbage to pollute my thinking because I thought Leo was a good guy, but now that I see him connected with the trials and sitting pretty at Saint Al’s…I don’t know. None of this is changing the investigation. Samuel is still our Prime Suspect, even though we have no idea where he is.”
He wasn’t making sense and he knew it. What could any of this have to do with Ryan’s death? What was he trying to reconcile?
Julie propped herself up on one elbow. She knew he wasn’t going to get any sleep unless he could settle his mind. Practicality was usually good medicine, so she asked him a practical question that required a practical answer.
“Are you going to talk to him?”
He looked up at her. Even in the dark she was beautiful.
“Definitely.”
“Why?”
“To get the full story.”
“Can’t you just get the transcripts from the trial?”
“I want to hear it from him first. I want to hear his version of the truth before I get the facts. I also want Ernie to read him.”
She collapsed her arm and snuggled next to him again.
“Okay. Doesn’t seem like there’s much else you can do until then.”
Lynch instantly felt his eyes start to close.
“I love you, Ms. Galbraith.”
She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.
They were both just about to nod off when Lynch’s cell phone buzzed. He lazily scooped it up from the corner of the bedside table and looked at the screen with one half-opened eye.
It was Sergeant Warner, Reilly’s partner. As Lynch was pulling the phone to his face, he noticed that he’d missed a text message. He decided to grab a quick look at it before talking to Warner. It was from Kelly.
I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING 2 DO WITH IT.
“What the hell, Kelly? I know you didn’t have anything to do with it.”
He answered. Julie put her chin on his chest and listened. She was praying that he didn’t have to go to the station.
“Hey, Carrie. What’s up? Oh no! You’re kidding! Where? I…Do you want me to come? Okay, tell me if that changes. Who’s got it? You? Good. Are you going home tonight? When are you getting there? Okay, I’ll see you then. Hang in there, okay? Bye.”
Julie sat up while James returned his phone to the table.
“Everything okay?”
“No, actually. Reilly is in the hospital.”
“Dear God. What happened?”
“He was at Frankie and Jimmy’s with his brother, and they chased some vandals into the scrap yard. I guess one of them threw a brake drum at them and nailed him on the forehead.”
“Is he okay?”
“He’s got a depressed skull fracture. Luckily, they got him in the OR quick enough. He’s alive, but the jury’s still out on the effects of the damage. I didn’t follow everything she said.”
A part of Lynch couldn’t
