There were a few people scattered around the church, some sitting up front, a couple lit candles for the devotional. A few waited to be heard for confession. Even more dozed the day away. Homeless, most likely. It was a safe, warm place, out of the rain, and cops didn’t hassle you inside. As long as you didn’t make a scene, no one was going to kick you out. And that was appealing. Even to me.
Father Mike was where I thought he would be, up front, offering blessings to any who asked for them. Mike and I had gone to high school together. We even dated for a hot minute back in the day, but even then, he knew he wanted to be a priest.
“I love God,” he had said back then, without any hint of irony in his voice. “And I want to serve. Both him and his people. It’s what I’m called to do.”
When he told me that, I wasn’t surprised at all. Mike was, and still is, a genuinely good person. I kissed him one last time and then I walked away.
We kept in sporadic touch over the years. He came to a little party I threw for myself after I finished law school and I attended his ordination into the priesthood. His mother was there. I don’t know that I have ever seen someone so proud in all my life as she was that day.
When the various church scandals broke open across the country, I reached out to Mike, to see how he was handling it. Mike was truly ‘one of the good ones.’ Selfless, caring, considerate, he believed that God had a plan for us all. He was heartbroken when all the abuse stories came to light.
He was upset about the church, of course, and what this meant for its reputation, but he was destroyed and distraught over the children. The lives that had been ruined. He told me, that day, that he would be doing everything he could to restore that trust and to help those people that had been hurt.
I approached him and caught his eye, just as he finished with a parishioner. He gave me a warm smile and a wink. It was good to see him. It always was.
“Sophie,” he said kindly, giving me a strong hug. “It’s so good to see you again. It’s been too long.”
“Father,” I said with a grin.
“Stop it,” he said. “I called my father ‘father.’ Mike is fine. You know that.”
“I know, just teasing. I wonder if I can pick your brain for a minute.”
“Sure. C’mon. We’ll head over to the rectory,” he said and led me out through a side door near the altar.
We entered the rectory, less incense, but still plenty of Murphy’s, and settled down in the living room. A fire was crackling in the fireplace. Worse places to spend a rainy day, I thought.
“So what’s up?” Mike asked. “Everything okay?”
I hesitated slightly, wanting to tell him about the blackmail and the mob and all of it, but I stopped myself. I didn’t want him to get dragged into my mess. I’d never forgive myself.
“I’m doing some background work for a client,” I said instead, which at least was the partial truth.
“Okay. Whatcha got?”
“Mike, you familiar with a Chicago priest named Glen Gilberti? He’d be older than us, but I was hoping that you—”
Mike had a surprised look on his face as I spoke.
“What?” I said. “What is it?”
“I was literally just gossiping about this with some fellow priests yesterday. You know how we gossip like an old sewing circle.”
“I do indeed. You’re worse than teenage girls.”
“Absolutely,” he said, laughing. “But yeah, we were just talking about him.”
“Why?”
“Well, I don’t know him personally, but the guy is a bit of a mystery.”
“What do you mean? How so?”
“Well, he’s been a priest less than a year. And somehow, the word is that he, like… blew through the seminary. Graduated in some kind of record time.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. No one can quite figure it out. It’s strange. We don’t know where he came from or how he managed to have it all happen for him so fast. It’s bizarre.”
Bizarre indeed.
So, who the hell was Glen Gilberti before he became a priest?
Chapter Ten
Indro
I was feeling better after meeting the Don. That could have gone a hell of a lot worse than it had. I had heard plenty of stories of fingers being chopped off and ankles being broken as “warnings” in the past.
I made a note to thank Flavio later for sticking up for me. He didn’t have to, but he did anyway. I think that’s what made the final difference with Maloik. He trusted Flavio and it showed.
Now, all I needed to do was prove that trust wasn’t a bad idea. And, to do that, I was going to need to get out from under these charges.
I headed back to Sophie’s office to see what, if anything, she had uncovered so far. I know she hadn’t had a lot of time yet, but time was a luxury that I couldn’t afford right now. Every moment counted. So let’s dig up some rock and see what we can find.
It had been snowing since I was with the Don, but it had stopped now, although the sky was still a steel gray and a sharp wind was whipping through the city off of the lake.
I banged in through Sophie’s office door, just to see her hanging up her jacket.
“Jesus!” she said, startled. “What the hell are you doing here so soon?”
“What’s the matter?” I said. “Hoping someone had taken me out?”
She smirked at me. “You don’t want me to lie, right?”
“Funny. You’re funny.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She moved to sit down in her seat behind the desk.
“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, moving over towards her. “What are you doing?”
She looked at me like I was an
