The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (59 page)

As
I pulled into the driveway, I noticed that my garage door wasn't going up even
after I pushed the control several times.  I parked the car, glanced at a
darkening sky and put the top up before I walked to the front door.  I was
fiddling around with my key chain, trying to figure out which was the front
door key when the door opened on its own.  Not a lot, just a crack.  If I
didn't have to pee I would have turned around and left, but as nature was
calling, I decided I would face whomever, I suspected the clergy, was in my
home.

I
pushed the door open and shut it behind me.  Father David stood there with his
rosary stretched between his hands just in case he had a choking to go to.

"Let
me go to the bathroom, and then we’ll talk.  I can't think when I have to
pee."  I walked by him and into my bedroom suite.

As
I took the nature call and then washed off some of the grime of the day, I
reflected on my life.  It just wasn't boring enough.  I should go out of my way
to be bored.  I dried my hands, ran them through my curls and went in search of
my guests.

I
found two of them in the den.  The dark haired man using my computer introduced
himself as Father Thomas and put his finger to his lips, after Father Paul, who
was on the phone, rubbed his bald patch in irritation at not being able to hear
his conversation.  I backed out and followed my nose into the kitchen where
Father Peter was frying some hamburgers.  I didn't look for Father David
because I could feel him shadowing me.  I opened the door, walked outside,
kicked off my shoes and stuck my aching feet in the cool pool water.

I
heard Father David pull up a lawn chair and sit down next to me.  He kept his
shoes on.

"So,
you took Michael away and then you brought him back?" I asked, not looking
at him.

"Yes,
we only wanted to talk to him in private."

"I
hate to tell you this, but if you talked to him in front of Harry, you weren't
in private."

"Where
is young Harry?"

"Horrible
Harry is either on his way home or answering questions for both of us at the
hospital."

"Why
aren't you there?"

"Didn't
feel cooperative.  I hope you, however, are up to an explanation.  First give
me the one Michael is going to give the cops and then the true one."

"Michael
went to visit the school and became curious about the empty buildings across
the street.  He found his way into the old mill and inadvertently pulled a wall
of debris down, causing him to be trapped.  He had no idea there was a body in
the next room because he never got that far." Father David paused.

"That
sounds plausible since Buslowski and I had to force the door open.  It's
good," I said, nodding my head.  I turned around.  "Now the real
story."

"Manuel
Perez confessed to Father Peter that he had used the Pahokee School's bus to
transport men from the gulf coast to a fish camp on the east side of Lake
Okeechobee.  The men paid him in cash.  He felt he had sinned since he didn't
give a tithe to church.  He didn't say who arranged the pickup or elaborate on
who the men were.  This confession nagged at Father Peter.  He thought that
either this was an illegal alien smuggling operation, or maybe something
worse.  So he ran it by Michael who came down in search of Manuel Perez, hoping
to get a description of the men.  But he had to do it in such a way as to not
discredit Father Peter.  Manuel had already been absent from work several days
when Michael visited the school, using the Williams Foundation as a ruse, to
find him.  He was chatting with one of the children and found out that Manuel
liked to go across the street to sneak a cigarette when he was supposed to be
washing the buses.”

"Michael
drove his car and parked it near the mill.  He was looking around when he
spotted some men entering that building.  He followed them in order to ask them
about Manuel when he caught snatches of their conversation.  They weren't
speaking English or Spanish which should have flagged Michael to get the hell
out of there, but he continued to quietly follow them.  They were fussing
around in the back room where you found Perez.  That, combined with the smell
that wafted over to Michael, convinced him that he better leave.  He reversed
his route but didn't plan on more men entering the building.  He was caught
between both parties of men and was overpowered.”

"Michael
played the lost tourist, and his driving a rental car backed up his story.  They
must have decided that his death better look like an accident so they knocked
him out and pushed over a wall of trash onto him.  They left him there to die
of either starvation or dehydration."

"So
these men didn't want the police looking too deep into his death.  They must
have taken his car and driven it away.  I wonder how much identification he had
in there," I said.

"Enough
for someone to look into who he was back in Savannah.  I think those guys that
followed Harry may have been sent to do just that."

"I
wonder why they didn't dispose of Perez's body if they went to the trouble of
rigging Michael's to look like an accident."

"Oversight? 
Maybe they were more worried about who Michael was and how this could affect
whatever plans that they have."  Father David got up.  "That’s all I
have right now.  I don't know about you, but I'm hungry.  Father Peter makes a
mean hamburger.  Care to join us?"

"Sure,
food's always better when someone else is cooking it."    

Harry
arrived just as we were sitting down to eat.  He pulled up a chair and filled
his plate. We all ate for a while in silence, each of us going over our
thoughts.  I watched Harry eat until he caught my eye.

"What?"
he said with a mouthful of food.

"Did
everything go okay at the hospital?"

Harry
swallowed and wiped his mouth delicately with a napkin before responding. 
Father Michael was still in surgery when I left.  Sergeant Dave asked if I had
talked to Father Michael, and I said no, you were with him.  Did I know
anything about the stiff?  And I told him maybe it could be the missing bus
driver that we heard about at the school."

"Shit."

"Cin,
there are priests present,” he admonished.  “I had to give him something.  He
can tell there is something afoot.  So, I gave him a toe," Harry reasoned.

"Actually,
I agree with Harry," Father David spoke up.  "We don't need to
antagonize the local police.  We may need them."

"You
may need them," I corrected, getting up.  "I'm out of this.  You can
use my home.  Hell, you can use Harry.  Just don't return him damaged.  If you
break him, you fix him."

"Why
may I ask are you, quote, out of this?" Father Thomas asked quietly his
tenor voice edged with concern.

"Thumb
cuffs, dead bus drivers, secrets held by clergy, terrorists."

"Maybe."

"Bull,
not maybe.  I figure that we have a group of men smuggled into Florida.  The
bus driver killed.  Michael left for dead.  This doesn't sound like 'Hey, I'm
here to illegally pick your oranges.'  It says 'I'm here to do grievous
harm.’"  I paused and looked at each one of them, waiting for someone to
comment.  "Why can't you just bring in the big guns?"

Father
Thomas spoke up, “Because we don't know what they’re up to.  If we move in too
soon, they’ll just take off, and then they’re off our scopes until they do
‘grievous harm.’"

"Father
Thomas, you can stop quoting me.  It pisses me off."  I looked at Father
Paul.  "Who are you?  Why are you in this? No, not just you, how about
Father David?  Father Peter heard a confession so I understand his stake, but
you guys are priests!  You're not FBI, CIA or any other acronym."

"May
I speak?" asked a too calm Father Paul.

"Go
ahead."

"Then
sit down."  He waited until I sat down.  "The four of us have been,
and some still are, members of the military.  Some of us worked in divisions no
one really talks about.  We have on occasion done things that were necessary to
ensure the success of an operation, but not what Jesus would do.  These are our
crosses to bear.  This country is not safe.  Don't believe the press or the
White House.  The security of this country is a day-to-day struggle of many
thousands of people to stop the flow of evil from manifesting itself in our
picture postcard country.

"The
four of us are friends, and we have been meeting openly in the spirit of our
callings to discuss things, ease the tension and mourn the losses.  This is our
first chance in a long time to actually do something about it.  This started
off as an investigation, but you know it’s now more than that.  Father Michael
is in danger, as you and Harry are.  You may have thought you were at that mill
alone, but I assure you there were eyes there.  I think the cops arriving saved
your and Harry's butts.  Something is happening, and it's happening soon.  We
don't know what yet.  Palm Beach County is your area.  The rest of us need to
use the knowledge you have.  We need to bounce information off of you
both."

"So,
you need us as consultants," Harry piped up and smiled at me.

"Yes,
consultants."  Father Paul looked at me and waited.

"Last
time I agreed to be a consultant, I ended up in thumb cuffs."  I sighed,
sat back and closed my eyes.

"I
can show you how to get out of them," Father Thomas added to the pot.

I
opened one eye. "You’ll disappear after all this is done?  And take the
illegal firearm that Harry has hidden in this house with you?"

"Yes."

"I
opened the other eye.  "You'll try real hard not to get us killed?"

"Yes."

"Okay,
but if I end up incarcerated after this, you will have to take care of Harry. 
I suggest a monastery somewhere."

"Cin,
you're being a pill," Harry pouted.

"You're
a danger, Harry, a danger to the world."  I got up and started to pick up
the table. 

Father
Peter laid a restraining hand on my arm.  "Let me do this.  Maybe you will
feel better after a shower and change of clothes."

I
was amused by being mothered by a father but accepted the goodwill in which it
was given.  I smiled and headed for my room, but I stopped short and Father
David bumped into me.

"It's
a large shower, are you joining me?" I asked the blushing priest.

"I…
I just wanted to check out your room, just to make sure we don't have any
surprises."

"Fine
with me, but the only surprise in there is an unmade bed and the world’s
largest supply of bubble bath.  You see, every time Harry gets in trouble, he
brings bubbles instead of flowers."  I stepped aside and waited while he
cased the master suite.

"Harry
must get in trouble a lot," Father David said as he left the room.

"That's
why we call him Horrible Harry," I said and gently shut the door and
locked it.

~

I
couldn't believe my timing.  Just as I got into the elevator at the hospital,
going up to visit Michael, Diane and Betty got off the other one.  I squashed
myself against the sidewall, hoping I wouldn't be seen.  I was successful.  It
wasn't that I didn't want to talk to them.  No, that's a lie.  I dreaded it.  I
would let Harry communicate with the Williamses, since our job was finished. 
He could do the explaining.

Well,
I really did like Harry, I thought.  I should warn him at least. I reached into
my pocket and texted him.  “Aunt d leaving rx beware.”

I
found out from a cheerful candy striper that Michael had a room to himself at
the end of the hall.  I felt a bit sheepish that I didn't have any flowers or
even a balloon to give him.  All I had was a very mangled diary, that I would
wait until his pain meds wore off before hitting him with it.

He
was awake and eating, much to my surprise.

"So
you've come for your religious training?" he said, sucking orange gelatin
between his teeth.

"Grow
up."  I walked over to the bed and felt his forehead.  "I think I’ve
had enough Catholics for a long while."

"The
boys giving you trouble?"

I
started laughing at the absurdity of those four priests being called “the
boys.”  "Tell me, they were all Harrys before taking their Church name,
right?"

"Ah,
Harry.  You really are too hard on the boy."

I
wiped some gelatin off his freshly shaved chin.  "I see someone has been
taking care of you."  I sat down in one of the most uncomfortable chairs
that have ever been made.  I think they’re made that way to discourage people
from staying too long.

"Aunt
Diane insists that you're never too sick to look your best.  How are you
getting along with the old dragon?"

"We’re
avoiding each other.  Even though I saved your butt, she is still holding me
responsible for all of this."  I waved my hands up and down his body,
"So, how many bones broken?"