Fancy Gap (32 page)
“Father, you’re too kind. I am but a child of the world who has set roots in this gentile Southern soil and prefers the grand Commonwealth of Virginia, especially life in the western vicariate,” Quinn responded.
Father Esposito picked up the wine list. “Quinn, I also understand you’re a man who appreciates fine wine. Hervé the sommelier is a dear friend. He has an extensive wine list for the general public. He also has a private cellar for his very best customers. Shall I order?” he asked.
“By all means, please do, Father. I learned a long time ago that a wine aficionado should always bow to the desires of his local host, who knows a thing or two about great wines. Accordingly, I anxiously await your selection,” Quinn replied.
Father Esposito nodded to Hervé, who was hovering in the background.
“Father, have you decided on what you might share?” Hervé asked.
“Yes, Hervé, I have. Please bring out my favorite Chateau Lafite and let it decant for a bit.”
Quinn smiled. The priest already knew what his favorite Bordeaux was. He only wondered what year the sommelier would produce.
“Quinn, I understand you’ve had an illustrious career protecting some of the biggest names in global corporate sectors. Your successes with those very important corporate entities are very impressive, as well as what you recently accomplished in regard to the global food supply. I am certain that you are a professional who understands what discretion is and how to use it wisely. I also know you understand the difference between public sector law enforcement professionals, who are governed by strict laws and reporting requirements, and those in the private sector, who are not encumbered by any such rules.
The point I’m making, Quinn, is that we in the Catholic Church hierarchy are not so shackled with reporting requirements that may or may not fit the actual circumstance at hand. We in many ways are like a substantial business that serves the people in a great many ways. We are not perfect. We strive to be good and just in all our ways, but at the end of the day only His Holiness is blessed by the Almighty. The rest of us are mere mortals who serve with great passion and devotion to our fellow human beings.
I say all of this to preface what you will learn of one of our brothers of the cloth. His imperfections were known by some. Yet his perceived desire to change and keep his demons at bay were also understood. The sum total of the man was considered whenever the risk factors of his behavior were considered.
You must understand, Quinn that we made decisions based on faith. We took a risk with this person and for a long time felt the risks were worthwhile and paid a good dividend to the people. His actions, we believed, justified our faith in him and our decisions. Nothing was done lightly and without due consideration.
But we are now in a new day, and we are forced to reconsider our decision. I am going to give you information today that will shed light on many of the mysteries that may have been troubling you. Many answers will now be in your hands. I pray and trust that you will use that information wisely.”
As he finished, the sommelier arrived, carrying a tray with a decanter full of wine, its bottle, and two glasses.
“Ah, yes, Hervé, the fruit of the vine has arrived. Très bien!”
The sommelier picked up the bottle and presented it to Quinn. Quinn took a quick look at it and said, “Mon Dieu, one of the world’s greatest is at our table. This is indeed very special.”
The priest smiled. “I thought you might understand the significance of having a nineteen eighty-two Chateau Lafite Rothschild to share between us today. Please do the honors.”
He nodded at the sommelier, who ever so gently poured a small sampling into Quinn’s goblet. Quinn swirled it around for a bit, then sniffed the delicate bouquet and took a sip. The wine gently seduced his taste buds as he slowly swallowed it.
“Oh, my, this is truly spectacular!” Quinn exclaimed.
The sommelier smiled as he poured some wine into Father Esposito’s glass. The priest’s eyes lit up as he tasted it.
“Father,” said Quinn, “we are blessed at this table with a bottle of arguably one of the greatest vintages ever produced in all of Bordeaux. The wine in this particular bottle is spectacular. Yet we know that from time to time there could be a single bottle that isn’t good—and with good reason.
Regardless of the tender, loving care at the Chateau or the quality measures put in place, there is always the possibility that a great wine could be victimized by a bad cork. And we know what that will do to any wine, good or bad. You and I understand that when we purchase any bottle of wine with a cork in it, the wine could end up being corked. That is simply the risk we understand and are willing to take when we buy the wine. The cork could be good or bad. A bad cork spoils the wine. We know that we must live with the results. We enjoy the good wine—and deal with the bad.”
Father Esposito smiled broadly as he leaned in closer to Quinn.
“You are a very intuitive man, Mister McSpain. I know I can trust you to deal with this matter and keep the greater good in mind as you go about what needs to be done. For that, I salute you and will pray that your efforts return the young girl to her parents.”
The sommelier emerged out of nowhere to fill their glasses, which they then lifted up to toast the moment. Both Quinn and the priest smiled as they sipped more of the wine. Father Esposito reached into his leather attaché case, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to Quinn.
“Quinn, everything you need to know is inside. Only the bishop and I have read the contents. I trust you will be judicious with all of this. It is now in your hands, and may God guide you and protect you along your path.”
Quinn tucked the envelope into the inside pocket of his sport coat and stood up from the table. Father Esposito stood up and hugged Quinn, and then followed the sommelier out a private back door.
No other words were spoken—or needed.
Quinn smiled as he walked through the restaurant, looking for Leroy, who was sitting in a booth, deeply engrossed in his new book and the tall glass of sweet tea he was drinking. He looked up as he saw Quinn approach.
“Ready to go, my friend, or do you need to finish that book now?” Quinn asked.
Leroy stood up. “Oh, no, I figure you can read it to me as we drive back home for the next three hours. I think I might just enjoy having you do that.”
Quinn slapped him on the back and they laughed on their way to the car. Leroy quickly merged into the flow of traffic heading out of Richmond.
“So, pray tell, how did your moment with the priest go? You were back there for quite some time. Did he hear your confession?”
“That’s funny, Leroy. Trust me, my friend; we’d still be there if he was listening to my sins. Leroy, Father Esposito is a true man of the cloth and one hell of a businessman. I can see why he’s the bishop’s chief of staff. He was as gentle as a shepherd with me, but I sensed that he could be a real prick if and when he has to be. He gave me this envelope, which I’m, sure, provides us with information on our Father Tony. So you drive, and let me get the details of the Father Tony story.”
Quinn lost all contact with his surroundings as he read page after page of what Father Esposito had given him. He was almost finished when his cell phone rang.
“Miss Hawke, the magic woman, I presume,” he said when he answered.
“So, let me guess: Your meeting with Father Esposito went well, and now you and Leroy are driving back to Carroll County. Am I correct?” she asked.
Quinn clicked on his cell speaker phone.
“Now, Louisa, be careful. You’re on speaker phone, and Leroy is listening.”
“Leroy, I do hope you enjoyed your trip to Richmond even though you had to listen to Quinn the whole time.”
“Louisa, he’s been unusually quiet on the way back. He’s been reading what the priest gave him. He hasn’t spilled the beans to me yet.”
“OK, enough of that, you two. First of all, Louisa, I need to know who you called to make that happen. How well do you know Father Esposito?”
“I don’t, Quinn, but I do know his boss. Years ago, at the height of the Catholic priest sex abuse scandal, the good bishop came to me for, well, let’s say professional guidance in how he should handle the challenges ahead of him. I gave him the best advice I could, and I guess it worked for him. He remains grateful for my assistance. Even his HR director has never seen what you now have in your possession. So let’s hear what you have to say, big man.”
“Well, I’ll give you both the Reader’s Digest condensed version of what I just read. Father Tony’s real name is Reginald Santa-Cruz. He was born in Woodland, California, which is a farming community just outside of Sacramento. He was the oldest of three children. Oddly enough, his parents and both siblings are all dead. It looks like cancer and leukemia were the cause.
He went to high school in Woodland and then on to college at UC-Davis, where he graduated with a degree in philosophy. He then entered St John’s Seminary near Los Angeles and completed all his training for the priesthood. He was ordained shortly thereafter.
There’s a gap in his story at that point, and there’s no record of him serving at any particular parish. But two years later, he was an army chaplain assigned to a variety of Special Forces units. The record shows that he completed all of the Special Forces training at Fort Bragg in North Carolina.
Now, this is where it starts to get interesting. It seems that in some distant Asian location—and the record doesn’t specify exactly where— Chaplin Santa-Cruz was accused by several local parents of abusing young boys. It looks like the army conducted some sort of investigation, but nothing ever came of it. However, it looks like he was discharged and returned to civilian life. He then showed up as the number two priest at St. Theresa’s Parish on the island of Kauai. He lived there for at least five years. Then he suddenly left and came back to the mainland.
There’s an annotation in the file that suggests there might have been an unhappy family or two in Hawaii who had issues with him there. Again, nothing ever surfaced that directly implicated him in any sex crimes.
OK, this is where it gets
really
interesting. The man showed up as a Franciscan at St. Francis Seminary in—get this—Bhagalpur Bihar, India. No joke, the man is now teaching young seminarians in India, of all places. He lasted eight years before he showed up in Fancy Gap five years ago.
Strange that there isn’t much about his stint at the seminary in India, because I would think that having young seminarians around him would just suit Father Santa-Cruz just fine. I’ll bet that a few judiciously placed phone calls to the right authorities in India might just lead to more interesting information about his activities there.
So there we have it, folks: the life and sordid times of one Father Tony or whatever you want to call him. I just knew that son of a bitch was dirty. Now, Louisa, I’m not bragging or anything like that. But I just knew.”
Leroy looked over and gave Quinn a thumbs up. There was silence on the other end for a moment.
“You were right, Quinn. I just wish you weren’t so spot on the money about him. I’m surprised but not shocked. He obviously is a very sick person who has the ability to fool everyone. And you do notice that I included myself as one of those fooled. OK, so how long before you get back?” Louisa asked.
Leroy looked at his watch. “Should be no more than half an hour or so.”
Louisa thought for a second. “Great. Let’s meet at the sheriff ’s office. I’ll brief him, and we’ll wait until you arrive to discuss our next steps.”
“That works for us. See you in a little bit,” Quinn said as he hung up.
* * *
Father Esposito returned to his office. He passed Tami LePage’s office on the way in. He found it strange that she was still working at such a late hour. He poked his head into her office.
“ We don’t have to pay you overtime for these hours, do we, Tami?”
She was a bit startled to see him.
“No, Father, these extra hours are freebies. You’re working a little late as well, aren’t you?”
“I am indeed, but I guess that comes with the job,” he said as he walked down to his office and closed the door behind him. He took his jacket off and opened the door to his liquor cabinet. He poked around in it until he finally found the bottle he was looking for.
He shared his beloved Scapa with no one, not even the bishop. He sat back in his chair and sipped his drink as he looked at the Richmond skyline. He thought about what had just transpired and prayed that Quinn McSpain would have the power to put an end to what should have been stopped many years earlier.
Down the hall, Tami LePage was also deep in thought. She finally decided what she needed to do. She picked up her cell phone and dialed a number she had written down on a piece of paper.
“Well, hello, Tami. I haven’t talked to you in forever.”
“Yes, Father Tony, it has been a long time. I hope you’re doing well. Listen, this may be nothing,
but there were two people here asking about you
…”
He knew he had to dispose of the van. There was a place where he could safely park it and it wouldn’t be found for quite some time. At least he hoped that would be the case. He knew of an abandoned barn off of County Road 608 that was set very close to the Parkway. The Park Service had purchased the property some years earlier in their efforts to preserve the original scenic appeal of the Parkway. The Park Service let the acquired properties remain in their original state and eventually become overgrown with natural vegetation.
Once the van was inside the barn, it wouldn’t be seen from 608 or the Parkway. There was also enough poison ivy around it to discourage anyone on foot from snooping. And from there, he could easily walk back to the house where Katie was. The only downside was that he now had to depend on his Buick, his regular car.
What he didn’t count on was Sam. Sam lived in a shack off of 608. He was a harmless hermit who lived a quiet life. He would sit for hours under a tree by the Parkway and read book after book. He waved at all the cars that went by.