“Well, can’t Kelly just send the text and ask?”
Samuel leaned forward and jabbed his index finger in the air toward Lynch’s nose. This was obviously the suggestion that he’d feared all along.
“If she does that, then youcan’t whiff it. If the cops don’t show, or even worse, if they do show up, and the bastards get off…”
“We won’t whiff it.”
“You’ve got to promise me, man.”
“I promise”
Samuel reluctantly pulled out his cell phone, punched in a quick text, and placed the phone on the table.
“I don’t know how long this will take. She’s at work like I…”
The phone buzzed. Samuel picked it up with a chuckle and read Kelly’s reply. He turned the phone around so that Lynch could read it too.
“I guess she beat us to the task…it’s at the old flag factory in West Springfield.”
“Springfield? Kind of far, isn’t it?”
“It’s far, but it works. The cloister location only requires two features, but they’re features that aren’t easy to come by. One, it needs to be a place that no one pays attention to and, two, it needs to have some kind of skylight with access to moonlight.”
“Come again?”
“The painting…the boobies…the center of the room needs to be lit. That’s why this month’s painting party is tonight.”
Samuel took another drink while Lynch asked his next question.
“What’s tonight?”
Samuel gulped and let out a satisfied sigh before answering.
“Full moon. You’re right though. Not only is it far, it’s probably the worst backup location the UJ has. It was our first one, the ‘Beta-test Cloister’ if you will. They must have been all kinds of hard-up if they had to relocate there.”
Lynch pictured the factory and thought ahead to the take-down. It would be easy. Three cars, tops. He couldn’t wait to tell his partner. Ernie was nothing if not entertaining when there was blood in the water.
Samuel stood. Lynch reacted.
“Whoah! Where do you think you’re going?”
“Dude, I’m done. I gave you my whole story, along with everything I know that could possibly help. Get busy on that receipt.”
“With all due respect, Samuel…no, of course no. Your ass is mine until your alibi checks out.”
“Really? You’re going to arrest me? Put me in jail for Bishop Ryan’s murder? You know I didn’t do it. That receipt can’t be the only thing you’ve got.”
Every fiber of Lynch’s being wanted to drag Samuel into custody, but, unfortunately, the wordy blueblood was right.
“Give me your number and stay available until this painting party tip pans out.”
Samuel did so, bowed respectfully, and turned to leave. As he walked away and adjusted his coat, something in Lynch woke up. Like a shot, an intense feeling of stupidity surged from his neck to his fingertips. His tablemate had faded him out of position. Lynch had become so engrossed in Samuel’s story that he forgot to ask him question number one.
His voice echoed through the empty food court.
“Samuel!”
The former president of the UJ took an irritated pause in his stride and slowly pivoted back around with his hands in his pockets.
“Yes, detective?”
“What did you do with your trench coat?”
“The day after I left the barn, I went…”
“…to St. Al’s and talked with Father O’Rourke. I know.”
Samuel was again impressed.
“I left it on a pew in the church.”
5. By the Schuylkill River
Indistinguishable Eric made his promise to Arthur when he was stoned out of his mind. He had no idea where to find Kelly, but he couldn’t renege. Losing face with Arthur just wasn’t done. After a morning of driving around aimlessly, he found himself parked by the river staring at the sky.
He reached for his glove box.
When the going gets tough…smoke a bowl.
As the THC started to do its job, he remembered Arthur’s words: “I believe she has gone astray.” He turned down his radio so he could talk to himself.
“Astray…where would she go if she’s gone astray? To the enemy? Who’s the enemy? The cops? The cop that beat up Jeremy? Would she visit him, maybe?”
He took a massive hit.
“What the fuck; it’s all I got.”
He made his way to the hospital after a stop at Taco Bell.
As far as he could tell, the detective’s condition hadn’t changed. The family remained in the ICU’s waiting area crying, praying, and squeezing rosaries.
Kelly was not there.
A woman arrived. She was welcomed like a family member, but she wasn’t a family member. She didn’t act like a family member. She wasn’t dressed like a family member. She was more like…
“A cop. Shit, that’s Reilly’s partner, isn’t it?”
He wouldn’t be able to stay much longer.
It was noon. His buzz was wearing off. He was irritated, slightly nauseous, and stuck with two options: take another lap around town or give up and face the wrath of the UJ.
… or …
As Carrie Warner circulated, embracing and consoling each Reilly individually, Eric got an idea. If he couldn’t deliver Kelly, maybe he could deliver something better. He pulled out his burner phone.
“Hey, Artie, it’s me.”
“Eric, my man! Find her yet?”
“No, but…”
“Don’t sweat it. She sent me a text. It’s all taken care of.”
They both could have left it there. They didn’t.
Eric spoke.
“So, I was thinking…do we need a third chick for the party tonight?”
“Until a couple minutes ago, we needed a second and a third, but yeah, we could use one. Why? What are you thinking?”
The nondescript little ass-kisser gave his own shoulder a little brush and tried to think where he could get his hands on some chloroform.
Meanwhile, Samuel and Kelly had just past mile marker 184 on the Pennsylvania turnpike. They were westbound in Samuel’s red Alfa Romeo…never to return to Potterford.
6. Driving Up Prospect St.
Lynch checked in with Gomez on his way to St. Aloysius. Ernie had been on a video conference call with Pastor Karney and a few members of the Philly Archdiocese most of the late morning. Collectively, they’d reviewed the short stack of filtered hate mail that the two detectives put together. Through the course of the call, eight letters and three emails were deemed worth pursuing.
“You sure
