Deadly Blessings (37 page)

I hadn’t expected
him
to be here. I knew
Ro worked for Lisa. His presence sealed the connection I knew
existed all along. I felt a tiny thrill of victory, but an
unexpected sense of menace as well. The sooner I got the
audio-taped proof, the better, and I’d be on my merry
way.

Ro gave the door a mighty pull to shut it,
and the sound of the heavy solid metal swinging home reverberated
throughout the empty church. Though dark, I could make out
stairwells leading upward to the choir loft on either side of the
vestibule where we stood.

Father Bruno rubbed his hands together. I’m
sure he did so to generate heat, but in the low lighting, with just
the creases of his face lit up by the small double-paned windows,
it seemed a maniacal gesture. “There’s a meeting room off the
sacristy,” he said by way of explanation, gesturing with his
chin.

A set of double doors opened to the main
church. Entering, I was reminded of a religious picture I saw once,
of Jonah inside the whale. Graceful, curving wooden beams arched
above, to meet at the peak of the ceiling, and though it was almost
too dark to make out the very top of the church, the whole image
was reminiscent of being inside the bones of the big sea
mammal.

Tall, stained-glass windows lined both sides
of the area, the dimness of the day outside causing their bright
colors to meld and seem flat. Dark bars lined the pictures from the
outside, in an effort to prevent vandals from breaking through the
antique designs. Only slightly successful. There wasn’t one single
picture left unmarred by shattered glass. The light that came in
from those open sections still wasn’t bright enough to illuminate
the huge area, though my eyes were beginning to adjust. I could
make out the fact that both the ceiling and the walls had enormous
patches of peeling paint. Just like the rundown homes outside, this
place needed a makeover.

Our tapping shoes echoed as we made our way
down the marble center aisle. I skimmed my bare hand over the worn
tops of the varnished oak pews. If I hadn’t been in church, I would
have considered whistling. Just to convince the others that I was
perfectly at ease, and had no fear whatsoever. Truth was, I wanted
to convince myself. The semi-altercation outside had left my knees
a little weak.

No one spoke until we neared the shadowed
altar. Decorated in whites and golds, there was a plethora of
plaster statues on both sides of the main center stage. Mary, the
mother of Jesus, gazed down at me, one hand touching her own heart.
From her placement, I knew she had to be the church’s patron saint.
Our Lady of Perpetual Sorrow. But she didn’t look particularly
unhappy. I would have characterized her expression as
“content”—maybe even pleased. Joseph, her statue-husband took up a
prominent position at the far end of the area. In between were a
couple of other saints and holy folks, some I could name, others I
hadn’t a clue.

A long wide brass railing, two feet high,
separated the altar area from the pews, with a wide red cushion
running its length at the base. This used to be where folks would
come to kneel to receive communion. Back in the “say it in Latin”
days. Back when lay people never ventured into the back rooms of
church.

At the front, just past the first pew, Bruno
grasped the railing, as his right knee skimmed the cushion in
genuflection. Standing again, he veered right, “Over here,” he
said.

We passed another long shelf of holy people,
these much smaller. One of them was the Good Shepherd, Jesus with a
lamb around his neck and another at his feet, looking up adoringly.
The patron of my home church, it gave me a moment’s peace
remembering that the Good Shepherd always watches out for his
flock.

Of course, wasn’t that simply to keep them
safe from the wolves, so they could be slaughtered in sacrifice
later?

“
In here,” Bruno
said.

He opened a door off to the side. Invisible
when shut, it blended into the wall, and had an indented handle. If
he hadn’t opened it to allow yellow light to spill out onto the
cold floor, I never would have noticed it there.

Inside looked like a typical old-fashioned
kitchen. Wacky place for it, I thought. Along the faded green
walls, unadorned except for dirt streaks where someone might have
tried to wash them once, were a sink on legs, a stove, a
refrigerator, all looking like they should have been left out at
the curb three decades ago. I caught sight of the ancient
metal-edged oak table and chairs, my adoption folder, and a full
ashtray centered atop it. Good, I thought. Shucking my coat, I sat
down to launch into my charade.

“
So, Father,” I began, not
wasting any time, “how about we get down to business?” I placed my
purse, the handheld recorder set to voice activation, on the table
next to me. Made sure the flap top was open. Redundancy, Jeff had
said. Worth the extra effort.

“
My,” he said, “aren’t we
eager all of a sudden? After our conversation at the restaurant the
other day, I was certain you’d never come around to see the wisdom
of my offer.”

“
I guess you could say I
saw the light,” I said forcing a smile, congratulating myself on my
cleverness.

Bruno lowered himself into the chair
opposite me. It protested his bulk, creaking until the large man
had settled himself. Ro stood behind me, making me itchy,
uncomfortable. But I tried to ignore that.

“
Yes, I suppose you have.”
Bruno’s piggy eyes ran up and down my face several times before he
leaned back, causing the chair to creak again. Pulling a pack of
cigarettes and his lighter out of the inside pocket of the black
suit jacket he wore over his robes, he took his sweet time lighting
up. His gaze seemed to settle on my breasts. The half-open
sweatshirt was exposing not just a little bit of cleavage. I could
feel myself blush. This guy was a priest? Seems like he was pretty
selective about which rules he chose to follow and which he
didn’t.

Glancing over my shoulder, I shot a pointed
look in Ro’s direction. A wooden soldier, he stood expressionless,
arms folded, in front of the door. Turning back to Bruno I lowered
my voice. “Wouldn’t it be better if we spoke alone?”

“
Of course,” Bruno said. He
glanced over my head to the big man but didn’t say a word. Moments
later I heard the soft whoosh of the door shutting and a tiny click
of the latch.

“
Thank you,” I said. “I
know he’s one of Lisa’s people. Sophie says he’s Lisa’s boyfriend.”
I waited, but Bruno neither confirmed nor denied the bait. My voice
had dropped to a whisper in my excitement; remembering the
audiotape, I raised it a few notches, and hoped Jeff was reading me
loud and clear. “We have a lot to discuss.” I leaned a bit further
on the table, a shade closer to Bruno. I didn’t want to miss a
word.

“
We do?”

“
Let me ask you a couple
questions, if you don’t mind,” I said, shooting him what I hoped
came across as a conspiratorial look. “Since we’re agreeing to this
trade, it won’t hurt for you to enlighten me a bit on a few things
I’m curious about.”

I heard the soft tick tick of the wall clock
behind him, as a smile broke over his face. “What do you want to
know, Alex?”

A tiny nag of doubt, vestiges of my
“Catholic priests are near to God” upbringing gave me a moment’s
pause. But I knew the truth. I just needed it spoken aloud so that
others would know as well.

“
Our agreement is that
you’ll give me this adoption information,” I slid my eyes to the
manila folder between us, “if I kill the story I’ve been
following.”

“
Mm-hmm,” he
said.

“
Sophie is a prostitute,” I
said.

He nodded.

Crap, I needed him to verbalize.

“
You know that?”

He nodded again.

I had to stop asking yes or no questions.
Some investigator I was turning out to be.

I tried again. “How long have you
known?”

“
About Sophie’s line of
work?”

I nodded, then caught myself. “Yeah. And the
other girls.”

“
Some time.”

I wracked my brain for a more clever
approach. “Some time,” I repeated. “How do you justify bringing new
girls to Lisa when you know the kind of life they’ll be
facing?”

“
Alex,” he said,
chastisement on his lips, “You really aren’t seeing things clearly.
You forget that our Father in heaven forgives.”

“
So you keep telling me,” I
said. I dipped down into the reservoir of desperation. “But what
about Milla Voight and Matthew Breczyk?”

“
What about them?” His tone
was flippant. Like we were sharing a joke.

“
I believe they were killed
because they threatened to expose Lisa’s organization.”

“
And?” he asked. One
eyebrow snaked up, just a fraction of an inch.

“
That doesn’t bother you?”
I asked, my voice climbing higher than I would have
liked.

“
Of course it bothers me,”
he said, both eyebrows furrowing in anger. “It more than bothers
me, Alex.” He pulled both hands, clasping, to his chest. “It
hurts.” He squeezed his hands together, so tightly that the pudgy
stretched skin went white. “I knew both of them. I watched over
them. They were like family to me.”

“
Then who murdered
them?”

“
Why are you asking
me?”

“
You know why, Father. I
think you’re up to your Roman collar in this mess.”

“
That’s a very serious
accusation,” he said, with unnerving calm.

“
Then you have to want to
help me. Help Sophie. Help all of them.”

“
I already do help them,”
he said. “Any way I possibly can.” His gaze dropped. It took a
moment for it to register that he was staring at my cleavage again.
An instantaneous burst of adrenaline shot through me, wondering if
the mike had become visible. Frozen in fear, I didn’t
move.

Then he gave a sigh, and raised his eyes to
meet mine again. “I enjoy helping young people. But you’re here on
business, unfortunately.”

Realization of his meaning washed over me
with a shudder of disgust.

A fear trilled in my heart. Could it be that
he’d been one of Lisa’s pawns so long that he could now so
cavalierly ignored his vows? I knew the fervor with which my good
friend, Father Trip, embraced his lifestyle, embraced all that the
church taught about life and morals and God’s will. Even if Bruno
wasn’t half the priest Father Trip was, there still had to be some
glimmer of goodness in him. He’d brought these girls into a life of
prostitution. Perhaps not knowingly at first, but now, he must be
aware. Surely he felt remorse.

“
Give me Lisa,” I said.
“Give me enough to shut her organization down and put her away, and
I promise I’ll do everything I can to keep you and the church out
of the story.”

His mouth went through a series of
gyrations, as though he wanted to laugh but struggled to be polite,
since I wasn’t in on the joke.

“
Pride before the fall,” he
said.

“
What?”

His hands gestured, in a smooth, practiced
way, as though to encompass the entire room, the entire situation.
“You are so supremely confident you have all this figured out,
don’t you?” he asked, his eyes squeezing in condescension.

“
I do have this figured
out,” I said. “Trust me. I can help you. Together we can put an end
to Lisa’s group.”

“
Trust you?”

“
Yes.” I took a breath
before continuing. “If I play this right, in our feature, I can
protect both you and the girls. I’m serious. With what you know and
with what I know, we can assemble a story, and perhaps even a case
against Lisa and Ro for the murders of Matthew and
Milla.”

“
With what I know, and what
you know,” he repeated.

“
Yes,” I said, trying not
to clench my teeth as I spoke.

“
What is it you think you
know?”

I heaved a long sigh of frustration, and
stared at the corner of the room near the ceiling, where a spider
had spun a thick web. Several dark shapes dangled in the fragile
pattern, leading me to believe he’d been successful in trapping his
prey.

“
Alex?”

My eyes flicked back to meet his.

He tapped the ash-laden end of his cigarette
in the tray, then brought it to his lips again. “Take the folder.”
I heard the smoke escape with his words.

I looked at it, weighing my choices. But I
couldn’t take it. Not yet. He hadn’t said nearly enough. His beady
little eyes watched me as I struggled to rephrase my question. He
hadn’t admitted to anything. I needed a whole lot more. And I
needed it fast. This interview wasn’t going the way I’d hoped. He
took another drag on his cigarette as I opened my mouth to start my
next question. But he interrupted.

“
What’s stopping you,
Alex?” he asked, blowing smoke out his nostrils.

I looked at him.

“
The file is here, just
waiting for you to grab it and go.” He shrugged, and I swore I saw
a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes.

“
Listen,” I said, “I’m
offering you a chance to tell the truth. Then walk away. And let
all the girls you’ve brought over here walk away too.”

“
So what
you’re proposing here, is to offer me
tabula rasa
?” He took another long
drag of his cigarette, and exhaled off to the side. The smell of
the burning tobacco and the gray cloud that began to envelope us
started a tickle in the back of my throat.