Collision Course (A Josh Williams Novel) (13 page)

Jim seemed to relax, he smiled, he leaned forward, looked Steve in the eyes, and said, "Where the hell is my drink? If I am going to bare my soul, I at least deserve that to ease the way."

"Can we get those drinks?" Steve was practically standing on the table. Almost as if that is all it required, the server appeared.

She looked at Steve and said, "Your Father wanted his vodka frozen a bit, so I stuck it in the deep freezer for 10 minutes."

"He's not my father."

"Well, technically speaking, I sort of am, for my normal purposes," Jim laughed.

"Okay, thanks, what's your name," looking at her name tag, "ah Candy, is that your real name?" Steve asked.

"Why would I make that up?"

"Ah, that is so true," replied Steve, waiting for the server to move away, smiling and waving at her every time she turned around.

"Okay, tell me what it is you saw and heard, I will do everything I can to protect you, but like you said, we are here for the truth."

"I was in the Sacristy."

"The what?" Steve interrupted "sorry, where is the, what did you call it, Sacristy?"

"The Sacristy. A room off the altar where the Priest prepares for Mass. We store our vestments, materials, various chalices, incense, and other implements used during the Mass."

Jim gave Harris everything he could remember about that day, except how he knew Anthony Machado. He hoped no one would ask.

"Jim, how well do you know Sergeant Williams?"

"Oh, oh," Jim thought.

"I was the Police Chaplin for a few years. I used to ride in the cars with different officers. I rode with Josh quite a bit, in spite of his failings."

"Failings?"

"He's one of those Yankee fans, I never understood it. He seemed to be literate," trying to interject some humor and derail the conversation track.

Harris laughed. "You really are a die-hard fan aren't you?"

"That I am, Steve, that I am. Look," fishing an olive out of the drink, "that's all I know. I wanted to tell someone about this, but I was scared and embarrassed. I am not proud of what I did, but if this can help get the truth out I am ready. I know you don't represent Josh, but perhaps you could pass this on to the lawyer that is."

"Jim, I will do what I can. My first obligation is to my client, but I know the lawyer representing Josh, he is a good one. I will get him this information. Let me ask you one more thing."

Jim tried to conceal his worry, hoping it wasn't opening up his connection to Anthony.

"Of course."

"Why not go to the police with this, or to Josh? You said you spent a lot of time with him, is there something you not telling me?"

Jim shook his head, "I was hoping to just tell you and not have to be otherwise involved. I know that is not possible now. Let's just say that if I am forced to testify some other issues, unrelated to your client, or even Josh, may come out. It would be bad for the church. My God, just my actions alone that day are bad enough."

Steve finished his drink, motioned for the check, and put his notepad back in his briefcase. "Jim, thank you for telling me this. I know it was not easy. I'll give you a ride back to St. Domenicks."

"No, I'm good. I think I will walk up to Brown University and over the Henderson Bridge. I enjoy walking; it will help me sort things out."

Steve stood up and shook Jim's hand. As they turned their separate ways, neither one noticed the man along the river. Why would they? RISD students are always taking pictures of the river and downtown architecture. This camera was focusing on human subjects.

"Who is he?" Slattery asked Waters, looking over the photos.

"Father James Swanson, the pastor of Saint Domenicks Parish, East Providence."

"Hmm, not likely a coincidence."

"Nope, the good father seems to have provided something to Harris. I think we need to have a chat with him soon."

"Should we run this by Collucci?"

"No need, he brought us here to work this. I don't need his advice, or permission, to do my job."

An hour later, Father Jim was sitting in the US Attorney's Office. No good deed goes unpunished.

"I do not believe I have to talk to you," Jim said.

"Well, Father, many of your beliefs are persuasive and compelling, that one is not. I can put you in front of a grand jury and force you to testify. However, I have a more subtle, yet effective tool at my disposal. Bishop MacLoughlin, your direct boss I believe, is my cousin. We grew up together. We are very close. If I bring this lack of cooperation to his attention, you will be pastor of the prison chapel. How does that sound?"

The workings of the mind always surprised Jim. Under threat, the mind proposes all sorts of solutions to the problem. Some reasoned and practical, some apocalyptic. He was also shocked that, in spite of more than twenty years as a Priest, he was entertaining one of those options.

"What is it you want to know?"

"What did you discuss with Steven Harris? What do you know about this case?" Collucci was angry.

"Suppose I were to tell you it was a private, personal matter between us. I am a Priest after all."

"Bullshit!" Collucci moved to stand in front of Jim, "Harris doesn't belong to the church. I do not buy that crap. I want to know what you told him, all of it."

Jim resigned himself to reality; he gave Collucci the whole story. Yet, he reserved the nuclear option until he saw where this led.

When he was finished, Jim looked at Waters, then back to Collucci, "might I have a word with you, privately, Mr. Collucci?"

Waters started to object, Collucci raised his hand to stop him, "of course Father, by all means. Excuse us a moment, would you Agent Waters?"

When the door closed, Collucci smiled, "You can say whatever you want here, but I can still use it if needed."

"Oh, I realize that. I was just wondering, why no one is curious about how I knew Anthony Machado?"

Collucci stared for a bit, "We know he grew up in East Providence, right near St. Domenicks. He played ball on the CYO team. Nothing startling there."

"That is true, very true. But there could be more to it; perhaps you should ask your cousin."

"Why don't you tell me instead of playing games, Father? I am done wasting time here."

"This is something you need to hear from the Bishop, so you'll believe it." Jim stood, "If we are through, I will be going."

"Father, I hope you aren't trying to turn the support of the church against me, that won't work."

"Nothing could be further from my mind," turning and walking out the door.

Collucci was not close to his cousin; Father Swanson would not know that.
Still, there was something in his tone, Collucci thought, not cocky, confidence perhaps. Well, I suppose a call couldn't hurt.

"Yes, hello, this is Robert Collucci calling might I speak to Bishop MacLoughlin, please? Ah, I see, well when the Bishop returns would you have him give me a call. No, nothing urgent, when he gets back is fine. Have him call the US Attorney's Office in Providence. What's that? Oh yes, I work there." Slamming the phone down.
How can they not know that?

Keira
Williams sat at her desk thinking about her life.

How had it come to this? How had they drifted apart?

She knew her work took too much time. She knew Josh's job took too much of his. Nevertheless, they always were able to compensate, always able to find a way.

It changed when Steve Harris asked her to help on the Morin appeal, and the other cases that followed.

They began spending too much time together. Josh and Steve were of the same mold, different flavors. They did not mix well. It was a dangerous situation.

Her cell phone rang. She looked at the caller ID, Steve.
He must have heard something about the First Circuit date for argument, she thought
.

She answered the phone, “Yes Steve, when do we argue?"

"Argue? We never argue, my love," the voice betraying a serious level of intoxication, "join me for a cocktail at Bovi's, we can discuss my strategy for becoming the United States Fucking Attorney General."

"Good God, Steve, how long have you been there?" Keira asked.

"Not long enough yet, my beloved, come join me, the cops are busy locking up nefarious elderly felons for possessing hallucina, hallucine, ah, shit. Come on down or I'll drive over and drag you here."

"No," Keira yelled, “don’t you leave there. I am on my way; put the bartender on the phone."

"Hi Keira," Karen, the day bartender, said, "I already took the idiot's keys. Please come take him out of here, he keeps playing the same damn song over and over on the jukebox and the boys are about to kill him."

"I'll be right there, thanks." Keira ended the call and headed to her car.

A short drive later, she arrived at Six Corners and walked into Bovi's.

"Will you look at this, my friends,” Harris exclaimed as he spun around with a pool cue nearly decapitating half the amused audience, "we are joined by beauty itself. How is it that Josh Williams, the illiterate cretin, won the heart of this fair creature?"

"Okay," Keira glared at the amused crowd, “which one of you assholes talked him into buying shots?"

The crowd dispersed to their normal bar positions and tried to conceal their amusement.

"Karen, come on," Keira pleaded, "I asked you not to play along with letting him buy the drinks for these assholes." Glaring at the crowd as they averted the look, still laughing.

"I know," Karen replied, “but he is so damn cute I can't resist him," looking over at Harris as he tried to smile and stop swaying.

Keira walked to the bar, her mere look creating an opening, and smiled, turning to watch Harris' attempt to move unobserved to the jukebox.

Harris, swaying less than gracefully, came back singing Marvin Gaye's "Mercy Mercy Me" for the 25th time, dancing over to Keira to the delight of the not quite humbled crowd, using the pool cue as a microphone.

"Oh, Oh mercy mercy me...ah things aren't what they used to be..."

The crowd, imbued with a new sense of bravado, joined in. The whole bar began singing.

Keira smiled, grabbed Harris' hands, and swung him to the rhythm.

As the song ended, Keira returned to her seat at the bar. "Karen, give this idiot one more and the rest of the bar as well."

The crowd erupted in cheers.

Keira stood up, held her drink high, and said, "If I come here one more time because you assholes fed my good, but idiotic, friend drinks that make him call me, I will have you all neutered. Well, except you Frank, there is no way to cut off those big balls, Skol!"

The crowd raised their drinks in reply. Frank beamed with the special treatment, and all was right with the world.

Argio "Beansie" DiBenedictis drank his drink, but he knew he was not part of the celebration. They tolerated him because Josh asked them to. Nevertheless, free is free, so he acted as if he was a part of it.

The drink consumed, Keira guided Steve out of the bar. "Okay, Stevie boy, get in the car and I will take you home."

Harris started to walk past the passenger side. "Whoa, there big fella," Keira said, grabbing his arm and spinning him back to the other side.

As she did this, Harris' momentum swung him past the door. He continued on, Keira no longer able to control the motion.

They ended up with Keira's back against the car, Harris leaning into her.

"My God, those are firm breasts," Harris smiled.

Keira pushed him off, spinning him toward the passenger side door.

"And that is the extent of your experience with them, get in the fucking car."

She opened the door, pushed him in, looked around to make sure no one, in particular passing cops, saw them, got in the driver's side and left.

She should have looked behind her as 'Beansie' DiBenedictis, sitting in the outside seat for smokers, took it all in. “Beansie’ got on his cell and made a call.

“
Nice
job, Josh,” Deputy Assistant General Kristin Volpe said, “I wish all my witnesses were as well prepared.” Closing her briefcase and walking out of the courtroom with Josh.

“Thanks,” Josh answered, “I try.”

‘Not hard enough, she thought, not hard enough’

“So how about I buy you a drink at Christopher’s?”

“Sounds good to me.” Radar warnings ringing in his mind,
‘Dangerous road, this’
he thought, but knew he’d go anyway.

Sitting in Cristopher’s, waiting for Kristin, his cell beeping several times, calls, texts, and emails. He ignored it.

I am not doing anything wrong.

He saw Kristin coming down the side street. She was a very attractive woman. It was impossible not to notice her. She came in, walked over, and touched him on the shoulder.

“Hey, Pucci,” she said to the bartender, “these drinks are on me.”

“Whatever you say, Kristin,” smiling back, “lucky man there today, aren’t you Josh?”

Josh smiled back at him.

The bartender delivered two glasses of wine and walked discretely away.

They drank the wine in silence for a bit. The action covering the awkwardness.

“I don’t see you in here as much. Where have you been hiding?” Kristin asked.

“Not really hiding, just haven’t had time.” Josh smiled, raising his glass, two fingers pointed up, in the universal sign for more drinks.

“Ever come here with your wife?”

“Nah, she’s not really, ah, well, truth be told, world’s would collide.”

“Ah, I get it; keep this place to yourself as a refuge.”

“How about you, where’s Mr. Kristin at?”

“Who knows? Off somewhere, wherever the company has sent him. He’s an engineer for an oil exploration company.” Glancing toward the bartender and smiling as he delivered the drinks. “If I am not working, I’m alone and free more often than not.” Looking at Josh, then into her drink.

Radar warnings were at the highest level.

“I know what you mean. I work a lot too. My wife is always off with the Innocence Project or some other quest for justice, we never see each other. We hardly...” Staring into his glass. “Ah, you don’t need to listen to my problems. I suppose I can keep you company here for a while.” Josh replied.

Kristin reached over, putting her hand on his thigh, “That would be nice. Maybe we can go get something to eat later?”

“Sure,” Josh answered.

What the hell, Keira is probably at the damn office with Steve Harris. Or so they say.

After another round of drinks, they decided to walk over to South Main Street and find a place.

As they crossed over the river, Kristin took his hand and pulled him close, kissing him deeply.

Josh surprised himself by not pulling away. He leaned into her. His hand found her right breast, the nipple rising to his touch.

She whispered in his ear.

“You know, I can cook pretty well. My condo is off Benefit Street.”

“Sounds good to me.” Josh answered. Unsure where that answer came from.

“Listen, why don’t you walk over and grab a bottle of wine. The address is 685 Benefit; I’ll leave the door unlocked.” Kissing him again and heading across the road.

Josh stood there for a moment, watching her walk away.
Damn, she is nice looking.

Kristin turned around, saw him watching her, and smiled. She pointed toward the city as if to command him to move.

Heading back toward downtown, Josh tried to remember the closest place to buy wine.
Where was Hamlin when he needed her? She held a sixth sense for finding liquor stores.

The voices in his head began to debate,

What the hell are you doing? Get in your car and get the hell out of here. Are you insane? She is going to find out.

And then the counterpoint,

No, she will not, she doesn’t care anymore. She’s spending all her time with that asshole Harris. What do you think they do with all that time?

Josh listened to the debate, found the wine store, bought the wine, and walked to Benefit Street.

It is only dinner…