Something Bad (37 page)

“Fixing to do my best,” he said as he approached the elevator doors. He entered and turned in time to see the receptionist shake her head in what appeared to be a non-verbal form of “what a pity.” He imagined her reaching for his commitment papers.

The ancient elevator started its ascent with a sharp jerk that homed in on Gabe’s ribs. He let out a muffled grunt. Hopefully, the receptionist didn’t hear it through the closed doors.

Father Costello sat in the day room, in the exact same place, and with the same exact posture as when Gabe left him weeks ago. The same magazines were scattered on the table, but in different positions, and the room appeared as if it had been nearly unused in the interim.

Gabe made his way to the table and balanced on one foot as he pulled the envelope from his waistband and withdrew a folded paper from his back pocket. He crutched around the table, up to the priest’s left side. The drawing of Thibideaux was smoothed against the window in direct line of Father Costello’s blank stare.

The priest didn’t respond. Gabe remembered there was no guarantee he would come out of his trance again, even with the picture. For the longest thirty seconds of Gabe’s life, Father Costello continued to stare at nothing in this world. Then, a pair of quick eye-blinks started a wave of arousal that gradually brought the priest back to the day room.

Gabe saw him recoil as a look of fear paled his face. He looked up at Gabe and recognition replaced fear. Back at the drawing, he swept his tongue across his lips. A deliberately formed mouth emitted words in such a low tone Gabe had to lean close to hear them.

“How long has it been since you were here?” Before Gabe could answer, the father continued. “What was your name again?”

Gabe was shocked at both questions. Was the priest testing him again, or had he really forgotten the information?

“Name’s Gabe. I was here a little over a week ago. You remember much of it?”

Father Costello turned his head to directly address Gabe. “I’ve been thinking about it on and off. But last night I couldn’t keep my mind off of it. I had a strange feeling something was about to happen, and here you are. Did you find the Bible? It’s been in my family for three generations.”

Gabe ambled back around the table.

“Did Hughes do that to you?”

Gabe lowered himself onto the hard chair and let out a loud sigh. “He caught me when I was getting the Bible. Got hold of it and burned it up. Sorry. He also had some fun with me, but he let me go. Somehow, I managed to get this envelope out of the rectory without him knowing it.” He slid the envelope across the table. “These your notes?”

Father Costello unwound the fastener, pulled out the yellowed pages, and thumbed through them without saying a word. When he finished his brief inventory, he held them perpendicular to the table and tapped them into an even stack. At last, he carefully placed them on the table in front of him and looked up at Gabe with a look that seemed gloomy.

“Your trouble did produce positive results. These are my notes. I’m going to ask you to leave now. Could you please come back after lunch?”

“What?” Gabe’s voice echoed in the Day Room. “I’m in a bit of a hurry here, Father. Can’t we just go through them now?”

Father Costello’s expression turned to melancholy.

“Gabe, I’m sorry to put you off, but seeing these notes has brought back a flood of very disturbing memories. I’m afraid I can’t go through them without dealing with some strong emotions. It may actually speed up our talk if I have some time to go through the notes by myself. I’ve suppressed so many of the memories from that time it may take me a while to remember all of the necessary details. I only hope it all comes back to me and that you didn’t take that beating for no good reason.”

All of a sudden, Gabe felt tired. He didn’t know if it was due to fatigue or frustration. His bed in the back seat of Wes’ truck was just below the window, but he worried if he went to sleep, he might not wake up in time. “I’ll go down and catch a little nap in the truck. How about I come back around one?”

“Could you make it one-thirty? I want go get some lunch and I want to make sure we won’t be disturbed in the afternoon. Besides, my appearance in the lunchroom will probably cause a commotion.” Father Costello kept his eyes on the stack of notes.

Gabe didn’t say a word to the receptionist on the way out until she forwarded a verbal barb.

“Are you done talking? You didn’t drive all this way to give up so soon, did you? Never mind about the Lotto numbers.”

“Be back at one-thirty.” He didn’t look back at her. She’d realize her mistake long before he returned.

Gabe awoke from his nap at twelve-thirty and was afraid to doze back off. A rumbling stomach didn’t equate to hunger, but rather to anticipation of the upcoming discussion with Father Costello. The nervous energy had one beneficial side effect—it dulled the pain in his ribs and knee.

Promptly at one-thirty, Gabe crutched through the front doors of the hospital and made his way across the foyer. Before he was halfway to the elevator, the receptionist stood and motioned to two men who were waiting in a small room behind the glass wall. The men hurried around the wall and approached Gabe. The tallest one held out a hand.

“Mr. Petersen, I’m Doctor Ewing, and this is Doctor Freedman. We’d like to talk with you for a minute, please.” Dr. Ewing motioned toward the uncomfortable seats in the waiting area and tried to turn Gabe by putting his hand on Gabe’s shoulder.

Gabe withdrew his shoulder and stiffened, shifting his weight from the crutches onto his good leg. “You mind telling me what you got in mind? I got an appointment with Father Costello right now.” He tried to move toward the elevator but Dr. Freedman blocked his path.

“I’m afraid we must insist. We need to ask you a few questions. That’s all.” Dr. Ewing put his hand back on Gabe’s shoulder.

Gabe once again stiffened, and his voice showed his displeasure at the interference. “I drove all the way up from Boyston and I have some important business with the father. If I don’t get it done right away, some major bad will be coming to us down there. Would you please let me talk to Father Costello? Now!”

Dr. Freedman repositioned himself to block Gabe’s path while Dr. Ewing put more pressure on Gabe’s shoulder. His tone changed. “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter. Either you talk with us or we won’t allow you to talk with Father Costello at all. Now, can we please sit down for a few questions?”

Gabe balled his fists, except for the middle fingers, but he resisted the urge to raise them. “If it’s the same to you, I’d prefer to do it right here. It pains me to sit down and get up. And if you only have a few questions, like you say, we can get it done right here and now.”

“All right.” Dr. Ewing’s impatient demeanor gave Gabe’s irritation a good challenge. “We need to know how you managed to bring Father Costello back. What did you say to him?”

Gabe considered his choices on this one. Tell them the truth and he’d be in for a long line of explanations that wouldn’t find solid footing with such learned men. But he’d have to tell them something that would seem somewhat feasible to them. As he did once before, he decided on using a half-truth.

“You know about his problem in Boyston? The one that brought him here?”

Both men nodded.

“Well, there was a man who was very close to the father back then. He was having some problems and Father Costello tried to help him out. Some of the things the father talked about with this man made him worse, and he tried to kill himself. That seemed to really hit the father hard. It was just before the father’s big problem, so I suspect it contributed to his breakdown. Anyway, this man has since come around and he’s doing really good, although I think he’s slipping a little again. He was a very strange looking fellow, so I just showed the father a drawing of his face, and that brought him back.”

“That was all you did,” Dr. Fredman said. “Just show him a drawing of the man?”

“Yup. That’s it.” It felt good to give a truthful answer for a change.

Dr. Ewing took over. “Can we see the drawing?”

“Sorry, but that’s private. Between me and the father. Since it hit him hard when he saw it, I don’t want to share it with anyone else. It would betray his trust in me.”

“And if we insist?” An edge returned to Dr. Ewing’s voice.

Gabe turned his body to face Dr. Ewing. “Is Father Costello still a priest?”

“Of course he is. Why?”

“As doctors, if I asked you for some confidential medical information about the father, you could refuse to give it up, right?”

Both doctors furrowed their brows. After a pause, Dr. Ewing spoke. “Yes. We aren’t required to violate the doctor-patient privilege. What’s that got to do with this?”

Gabe’s argument rounded the bend. “I believe priests have the same kind of thing, right?”

Both doctors flashed simultaneous looks of surprise.

“I suppose so, but Father Costello isn’t advising you on any personal matter is he?”

“The matter I’m here to discuss with the father is extremely personal, and involves just me, the father, and the man whose face brought the father around.” Gabe lifted his chin. “As I see it, I don’t have to give you any more information than that. Correct?”

“You do if you want to meet with the father again,” Dr. Freedman said.

Gabe spun around so fast he almost fell over one of the crutches. He fixed the doctor with an angry stare and half-growled at him. “Now I don’t suppose that if I went to the bishop and told him about the situation, and about our conversation, that he’d agree with your reaction, you think? Besides, it seems I’m the only one who’s been able to get Father Costello back home in the last twenty some years. If I go away now, he’ll probably never come back again. You want to be responsible for that?”

Dr. Ewing gave Dr. Freedman a cold stare and turned a fake smile to Gabe. “Now, Mr. Petersen. What we all have in mind here is what’s best for Father

Costello. Dr. Freedman and I know what’s best for him medically, so I’m afraid we must insist that you give us some basic information. We’ll need that for his future treatment. Surely, you won’t object to that.”

Gabe studied the two doctors for a few seconds. They both looked very young, and their protests were a bit too forceful. Probably a couple of entry-level, kiss-ass doctors who wanted to take credit for the father’s breakthrough to gain favor with their superiors. Time to test the theory.

He turned to the receptionist. “Excuse me, Ma’am. Who’s the doctor in charge of Father Costello’s case?”

“That would be Doctor Lawrence.”

“He around?” Gabe noticed the two doctors look at one another.

“Sorry, but he’s out of town until the day after tomorrow,” the receptionist said. “But I can get hold of him on his pager. He has two of them. One’s for routine matters and the other’s for emergencies. If I use the second one, he’ll answer right away. Do you want me to contact him?”

She seemed to be playing into his plan as if she were suddenly an ally. “I don’t know,” Gabe said. “What do you two think? We need to call Doc Lawrence to get his okay?” Gabe rocked his neck back and forth, glowering at the two young doctors.

“I don’t think we need to do that,” Doctor Ewing said. He forced another smile. “Maybe we were a little too forward with our intentions. But you have to realize we are only looking after Father Costello’s best interests here.”

Gabe gave the receptionist a subtle nod. “I’m sure you were.”

“Then you wouldn’t mind if we gave you a tape recorder so we could enter the information into Father Costello’s file,” Dr. Ewing said. “We would make sure it was treated with the utmost confidentiality.”

“Looks like we’ll need to give Doc Lawrence a call,” Gabe said in the direction of the receptionist. “Use the emergency line. I don’t have a lot of time to waste, so we need to get his thoughts on this right away.”

The receptionist picked up the phone and Doctor Ewing held a hand in her direction. “Connie, there’s no need to bother Dr. Lawrence.” He turned to Gabe. “You can go ahead and talk with Father Costello. At the least, do you mind if we observe from outside the room?”

“Of course I mind.” The indignation was an act, but a good one. “What you think I’ve been talking about all this time? This is personal, and none of your damn business. You doctors seem to be really good at telling people things, but you don’t seem to be so good at listening. Let’s see if you can hear this. You can’t listen in. You can’t watch. You can’t record us. Far as I’m concerned, I don’t even want you on the same floor. Nod your head, or stomp your foot, or do something if you heard that.”

The receptionist turned but she couldn’t hide her giggles.

Dr. Freedman’s face went red as a fire truck. “Now look here, Mr. Petersen. We didn’t go through medical school and internships in psychiatry to have our business dictated by people off of the street—”

“Hold that thought,” Gabe said, patronizing in return. He raised his right index finger within six inches of Dr. Freedman’s face, his voice serious. “Until I give a shit.”

All three men swung their heads around as the receptionist exploded into a throaty laugh.