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Micah visited Pat’s brother and Pam’s sister and came away with nothing new. Neither knew where their siblings were. Both thought Father Gerry was a fine priest, and both heard from their brother and sister about once a week. They were very cooperative and encouraged Micah to find them.
They were glad to hear that ‘Mom and Dad’ ‘hired’ him. Both agreed to have a caller ID block installed in their homes. Neither could believe he or she hadn’t thought of that. Micah was sure he’d have a phone number for the missing families within a week. It wasn’t as easy as it would have been if he’d been on his home turf, where he could call in a favor or two and trace a cell phone signal.
Nonetheless, with an area code and phone number, finding them would be a piece of cake. He loved modern technology. If for some reason, the caller ID block bit didn’t work, there were methods available to defeat it. Besides, a computer search of credit cards, Social Security numbers, and so on would find them. There was always some electronic paper trail in the twenty-first century.
That night, however, he put the case and technological advance aside for a different type of progress. He planned on putting his best moves on beautiful Jessica. If he had to stay in this town, he might as well get laid, and Jessica was his best prospect in years. She was as pretty and sexy as any of those girls in his magazines—more beautiful, even than the one in the movie he watched on pay-per-view the other day. Well, not quite pay-for-view. Micah had one of those devices that allowed him to steal premium cable channels. The air is free, he figured. He ignored all those warnings before every show that cable theft was a crime punishable by fine and imprisonment. He had the same attitude about this as he did about porn. What a grown man did in the privacy of his own home was his business and could not be a crime. Former cops could be so arrogant about their own violations of law.
Micah found the address and pulled the MKZ into the driveway of a modest bungalow with a large front porch. On the porch were some old patio furniture and a swinging couch. Micah parked in the driveway and walked up the steps to the porch.
“Hi.” Jessica chirped.
Micah jumped. She was sitting in the shadows and scared the shit out of him.
“Did I scare you?” Jessica purred.
“Uh, n-no,” Micah lied.
“Yes, I did,” she teased. “A trained investigator can’t sense someone is sitting in the shadows?”
“I knew you were there,” Micah contended.
“Sure you did,” she laughed. “That’s why you’re white as a sheet. You just about crapped your pants! So how goes your real estate research?”
“It’s going fine,” Micah recovered his wits.
He gazed at her, trying to focus in the dark. She had this silly, self-satisfied smirk on her face. The cat had swallowed the canary, and Micah knew he was the canary. He flushed when he suddenly realized Jessica referred to him as a ‘trained investigator.’ He couldn’t believe she unmasked him. He felt violated and embarrassed, like he suddenly discovered his fly was open.
“How did you . . .?”
“Easy-peasy. You look like the big-city type. The nearest big cities to Berea are Cleveland and Toledo. No Micah Love in Cleveland or Toledo. The next nearest big city is . . .”
“Detroit.” Micah completed her sentence.
“Bingo,” she taunted. “There’s only one Micah Love in the Detroit area, and he is the president of a large private investigating firm downtown,” she crowed.
“Go on . . .” He was no longer embarrassed. He was impressed. He enjoyed her initiative in sniffing out the truth.
“I called the number and asked for Micah Love,” she continued. “I got someone named Eden. Not too bright, is she?”
No, but she’s got great tits; Micah smiled. “Whatever do you mean?” He teased.
“Well, it would seem to me the activities of a hot-shot investigator should be discreet, no?”
“Yes.”
“When I asked to speak to you, do you know what Eden told me?” Jessica persisted.
“No, but I’m sure I’m about to find out,” Micah grunted, rolling his eyes.
“She claimed you weren’t in, but you’d be calling in for your messages.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“I asked when you’d be in.”
“What was her reply?” Micah played along. Jessica enjoyed the exercise, and Micah enjoyed her enjoyment.
“Mr. Love is out of town on a case.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. Then I told her I was Jessica Klein, from Berea. Guess what she told me?” Jessica snickered.
“I can’t guess.”
“She got all excited. She likes you.” Jessica giggled.
“Oh yeah, she loves me,” Micah sighed.
“Well, anyway, she kind of gushes and says, ‘what a coincidence! Micah’s in Berea working on a case.’ Isn’t that wild?” She exclaimed.
“Yeah, wild,” Micah grumbled, getting annoyed.
“I say, ‘wow, that is a coincidence. I can talk to him about my case right here!’ I pretended to be excited to find out what a deceptive bastard you are.” Jessica snapped, suddenly angry.
“Jessica—” Micah started to apologize.
“So I requested your hotel room number and phone number, and guess what she does?”
“What?”
“She gives it to me! Can you believe it?” She chuckled.
“Unbelievable.” Micah rolled his eyes.
“After I hung up, I thought to myself, ‘Maybe there’s another Micah Love in the real estate business who happens to be in Berea at exactly the same time as the investigator Micah Love,’” she pretended to pretend.
“But you decided against that possibility?” Micah guessed.
“Yeah, I pretty much ruled that out. You’re a liar, you son of a bitch!” Jessica fumed. “You lie like a rug!” Seductive and sarcastic morphed into fury. Micah stepped back.
“Jessica, come on. I’m in an unfamiliar town, on a case of major importance. The case is extremely sensitive and volatile. Can I trust anyone? I met you today. I’ve got a client to protect. I’m suspicious of everyone I talk to. It’s the nature of my business. Please understand. I couldn’t tell you why I needed those names and addresses, and I still can’t.” He pleaded.
He sat down next to her and picked up her left hand, holding it in both of his. He gazed at her with pleading eyes.
“Relationships must be honest. They should start with simple honesty and integrity,” she guilt-tripped.
“Relationships? I thought we were having dinner,” Micah gasped.
“Well, you never know . . .” She shot him a seductive look.
Micah was getting aroused. “I’m sorry then. I don’t want our relationship to get off on the wrong foot. You know the truth now. May I please take you to dinner?” He groveled.
“Are you buying?” She purred.
“Absolutely.” He assured.
“Okay, let’s go. I know a quaint little place by the river . . .”
Just like that, she returned to the seductive, effervescent Jessica he met that afternoon.
***
While Jessica was chastising Micah, Zack arrived at Jennifer Tracey’s home to escort her to dinner. It was a beautiful early summer evening. The sun was high in the sky at 7:00 p.m., a benefit of daylight savings time. Jennifer was full of questions about the depositions. They drove down I-275 South toward Canton. Zack had lowered the convertible top on the Z4, and the wind howled around them.
Jennifer chose her favorite Chinese restaurant in Canton on Ford Road. There was a theater nearby. They made plans to catch a late show if they finished dinner in time. Jennifer had to shout her questions over the wind. She finally decided to give up and wait until dinner. Zack pulled into and parked in the restaurant parking lot. He jumped out and hurried around to the other side to open her door, as was his habit. Jennifer smiled. Chivalry is not dead.
The restaurant wasn’t crowded. A Chinese host smiled, bowed, and muttered something neither could understand. He escorted them to a booth, handed them open menus, and announced the specials. He left them momentarily and returned with water, hot tea, and dinner rolls, those delicious, hot ones that are only served at a Chinese restaurant. He hovered over them, eager to take their order.
Jennifer and Zachary watched him leave, simultaneously turned toward each other, chuckled, and bowed slightly.
“Nice place,” Zack looked around. “Great service. Do you come here often?”
“Not often enough. The food is awesome.”
“This isn’t exactly near your home. How did you discover it?”
“My brother used to work for the company that owns the theater down the street. Jim and I used to take the boys to the movies for free. We . . . sort of . . . stumbled on this place.”
Zack glared at her, lost in thought.
Is he listening to me? She decided to change the subject. “So, tell me what happened today?”
He came out of his trance and brought her up to speed. She was immediately sorry she changed the subject.
“This is outrageous, Zack. Why would a religious institution need a secret police-type guy? Why would they have such a person on their payroll?”
“Oh, I can see many legitimate reasons for his existence—bomb threats against churches, assassination attempts on high church officials, the security of clergy and parishioners in general. I guess this man and his organization were created for these legitimate reasons. They were logical choices when pedophilia began to surface in the priesthood. What, ultimately, seems to motivate everyone on the defense side, though, is preventing a public scandal. That’s why every offer we’ve received includes nondisclosure of settlement figures, a sealed court file, and a hushed-up criminal conviction and plea bargain.”
“That’s exactly why we can’t let that happen in our case. He’ll get transferred somewhere else and do this again. This must be public, Zack, to protect the kids, not only from Gerry but from who knows how many other sick priests who are doing this to kids,” she grumbled.
“I hear you, Jennifer, but I also got a new offer from Walsh.” Zack brightened. “I’m duty-bound to convey it to you.”
“Oh, what’s the offer?” She inquired, genuinely curious.
“It includes all the privacy features I just mentioned,” he tested the waters.
“Not acceptable,” she snapped.
“They have offered five million dollars, Jen.” He dropped the bombshell.
Jennifer was sipping her tea and almost choked on it.
“Five million dollars? You’re kidding!” she exclaimed.
“I’m not kidding. However, you’ll have to agree to drop the case, sign a nondisclosure agreement, and allow a non-public plea bargain.”
“That’s an enormous amount of money!”
“Yes, it is . . . ” he admitted, surprised she seemed to be considering it.
“My boys and I—and you—would be set for life,” she speculated.
“I don’t know about ‘set for life,’ but it’s a lot of money. Take me out of the equation. Worry about you and your boys.”
“But it’s a lot of money for you too, and you’ve worked so hard and been through such difficult times . . .” she considered.
“This decision is about you and the boys. You need to do what’s right for your family. Nothing else matters.” He meant it. This ‘new’ Blake surprised even him.
The waiter returned with their meals, and they ate as they talked.
“This is delicious, the best Chinese I’ve ever had.”
“I told you so. Zack, what do you think I should do?”
“Jenny, I can’t tell you what to do, but you keep saying you’re doing this for the boys,” he suggested.
“I am doing it for the boys,” she insisted.
“Well, do the boys benefit from this policy of nondisclosure?”
“I-I don’t know what you mean,” she stammered, confused.
“The church will pay you more for nondisclosure than they will if this case continues to be conducted in public. Further, they will probably start a public attack on you and the boys. Your decision to conduct these proceedings with maximum press coverage might cost you money and actually hurt you and your kids’ reputations. If this is about the best interest of your children, it may be best to move forward the way the church desires. I can probably get even more money.”
She lowered her head and shook it, wistfully, from side to side. “It’s hush money, Zack. They wouldn’t be paying for the harm they caused. They’d be paying to shut me up.”
“That’s true, but what the hell do you care? You and the boys will be set financially for life, and the boys will receive treatment for as long as necessary,” he emphasized. He had her attention.
“It’s very tempting, Zack,” she ruminated. “But what happens with Gerry? He just transfers somewhere else and does this to someone else’s kids?” She stammered.
“He would be in the hands of the church. You’d have to trust the church to get him help and place him in settings where he couldn’t harm children,” Zack reasoned. He knew where the conversation was headed.
“But I can’t trust the church,” she concluded.
“Why can’t you trust them? Do you think they want him to molest children?”
“No, of course not,” she scowled.
“What then?” He pressed.
“You are convinced he’s done this before, right?”
“Yes.”
“If the church had control of his placement and could be trusted to get him the help he needed, why was he transferred to Lakes?”
She’d make an excellent lawyer. “A mistake, probably. He slipped through the cracks somehow,” he reasoned.
“Do you suspect his previous victims settled in the manner you describe?”
“Yes,” Zack admitted. Jennifer would turn down this indecent amount of money and more, put her own kids through a public trial, to protect other kids from experiencing the trauma they suffered. Incredible!
“Can we get some assurance that no mistakes will occur?”
“I don’t see why not. I can try.” Why didn’t I think of that?
“Try then. I also think it’s too early. I’d like to see more deposition testimony, perhaps this secret police guy. Let’s see where they lead. The money will still be there, and we don’t have to be extremely public about the depositions. I’ll give you my decision after that,” she concluded.
“Sounds like a plan,” Zack assented, not enjoying the prospect.
The waiter returned, took their plates, and brought back carryout bags and fortune cookies. Jennifer cracked open the cookie and pulled out her fortune. “You will find peace and riches beyond your dreams.” Jennifer laughed out loud as she showed the fortune to Zack.
“Peace before riches, I hope,” she prayed.
“Amen to that, but riches aren’t too bad,” Zack laughed.
“That’s true. I could deal with riches,” she joked.
“Let’s see what mine says.”
“Okay.”
“You open it,” he prompted, straining his neck to view the message.
Jennifer cracked the cookie open, read the fortune, and smirked.
“What does it say?” Zack squinted.
“You will find success in your chosen profession,” Jennifer chuckled.
Zack smiled. “From the fortune’s mouth to God’s ears.”
He paid the bill and thanked and tipped the waiter. They left the restaurant together. The sun was setting beautifully, like a red rubber ball. Zack thought of the old song by The Cyrcle. They decided against the movie. The evening air was still warm, and they drove in silence with the top down to Jennifer’s house.
***
As Zachary was driving Jennifer home from Canton to Farmington, Micah was paying the bill at Antonio’s, a small, typically Italian restaurant with white stucco walls, hanging, empty wine bottles, and jammed-in tables with red-and-white checkerboard tablecloths covering them. The servers had to maze around, looking for an opening, to arrive at the table they needed to serve. Some of the waiters would break out in song when the violinist, whose job was to visit each table and inquire of and play patron requests, played one of their favorites. The ambiance was terrific, and the food superb. Micah had underestimated Jessica. She was a woman of great taste, in food, at least.
He hoped she was not as discriminating in seeking male companionship. She was out of his league. She’s gorgeous, perfect. What would she want with a schlump like me? Bald head, fat stomach, bad comb-over. Micah found himself wishing he could be Channing Tatum or Chris Hemsworth, anyone with hair and a body, for just one night.
“Was I right, or was I right?” Jessica gloated.
“Absolutely delicious. The spiedini was the best I’ve ever tasted, even better than Maria’s, in my neck of the woods, and the veal was outstanding. Would you like coffee or dessert or an after-dinner drink?”
“No, thanks. I’m stuffed. So, tell me, what’s this big case of yours about?”
“I can’t tell you—it’s confidential,” Micah claimed.
“Confidential, smonfidential,” she needled. “You’re discussing it with some people around town because you’re trying to locate their children. Parents won’t tell you a thing unless you tell them why you were asking.”
“You’d be surprised what people will tell me. I’m very good at what I do,” Micah boasted.
“I’ll bet you are. I’ll bet you’re good at many things. Now give! What’s this case about? Maybe I know something. Did you ever think of that? I could be a witness,” she insisted. She’d wait and pester all night, if necessary.
“If I told you, I’d have to shoot you,” he joked.
“I look forward to that, as long as it’s blanks,” she purred.
Micah’s pants stirred again.
“Now give. What’s going down?”
Was she really angry? Micah capitulated. Besides, maybe she knows something. She’d done a terrific job tracking Micah down.
“I’m here on a child sexual abuse case,” he conceded.
“Child abuse?” She was genuinely shocked. “Where? Who? MacLean? O’Connell?”
“I don’t know yet. I think their kids are involved. The two families just picked up and left without even giving their families forwarding addresses and phone numbers. And the kids are the target age and sex.”
Jessica looked perplexed. “I don’t get this at all. Why would an investigator from Detroit be interested in two domestic abuse cases in Ohio?”
“Oh, no, you’ve got it all wrong. Not domestic abuse, clergy abuse,” Micah advised.
“Clergy? At St. Pat’s?” Jessica was stupefied.
“I believe it happened at St. Pat’s or St. Pat’s functions.”
Jessica was miffed. “That’s ridiculous. Micah, you can’t march into a small town like Berea and make these kinds of accusations. Almost everyone in town belongs to that church,” she defended.
“It’s not the church itself or anyone currently associated with it; it’s a priest who used to work there,” Micah expounded.
“Who?” She demanded.
“Gerry Bartholomew.”
“Gerry fucking Bartholomew?” She was incredulous.
“Yes, Gerry fucking Bartholomew.”
She shook her head, astonished by the revelation. “But, . . . Gerry was a great guy and an even better priest. Most people around here wanted Foley to retire so Gerry could take over.”
“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but Gerry sexually molested at least two teenage boys in Michigan, and we believe he did the same thing to the O’Connell boys and the MacLean boys—same age, same situation.”
“How do you know this?” She hugged herself.
“The boys named Gerry as the perp.”
“What’s a perp?” She wondered.
“The perpetrator of the crime,” he explained.
“Oh, the perp,” echoed Jessica, abashed. “What did the MacLean and O’Connell families tell you?”
“Same thing you did. Gerry’s a great guy, a model citizen, the next coming of Jesus H. Christ. They also told me the boys acted strange for weeks, and both sets of parents suddenly got ‘transferred’ out of town. They left in the middle of the night without providing a forwarding address or telephone number to any family members.”
“I’ll admit that’s strange behavior, but what does this have to do with Gerry?”
“Coincidence. The grandparents don’t realize it, but their grandchildren were silent, angry, and aloof for at least six months before the family left. Both sets of boys went on camping trips and overnights with Gerry at or near the time they began to have problems. My client’s children, also teenage boys, exhibited these exact symptoms following an extended camping trip they took with Gerry. Gerry is transferred to Michigan while the two families disappear at or near the same time. Interesting coincidence?”
“It could be just that, a coincidence.”
Micah could tell, while she suggested a coincidence, she didn’t honestly believe it. She was struggling with the truth. She liked Gerry.
“Could be, but I doubt it. The man is not who you think he is,” he disclosed. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, Bartholomew is a child molester. He uses his position to lure children into his bed or his shower and commits unspeakable acts under the guise of religious ritual in the name of God. Church officials don't deny he abused the Tracey kids. There are criminal charges in Michigan, Jessica. I believe there were criminal proceedings here, too, but they were covered up.”
Jessica remained stunned. “This is . . . unbelievable, so abhorrent! How could a man of God do such terrible things to children?”
“This is not a man of God, Jessica. Maybe he once was, but no more. Now he’s an animal, posing as a man of God.”
“I just can’t . . . this is so . . . my God, Micah, he forced teenage boys to have sex with him?”
“I’m afraid so, Jessica.”
“I can’t help you, Micah. I had no idea,” Jessica admitted. “I’m like everyone else in town who thought he was a great guy and a great priest, transferred only because his time came up before Bishop Foley was ready to retire.”
“Jessica, maybe you can help. You know everyone in town, right?”
“Pretty much. Why?” Jessica brightened.
“How well do you know the custodian at St. Pat’s?”
“Gus? I’ve known Gus all my life. He’s been the custodian at St. Pat’s forever. What does he have to do with this?”
“I think Gus knows something. He started to confess something to me but caught himself and clammed up. I’m sure the church has gotten to him and told him I’m dangerous or something by now, but if you were to talk to him . . .”
Jessica was assertive now. “I’d be happy to, Micah. I know where he lives. I know his route home. I know where he goes to eat. I’ll talk to him.”
“Wonderful,” Micah cheered. “I’m particularly interested if he knows why Gerry was transferred, what happened on those camping trips, and what higher-ups within the church knew about him or were responsible for his transfer.”
“Geez, Micah. He’s the janitor—he doesn’t run the place!” Jessica snickered.
“I know, but you’d be surprised what janitors hear roaming the halls. Besides, what’s the harm in asking? And don’t forget, initial denials don’t mean he doesn’t know anything,” Micah tutored, sleuthing 101.
“Micah,” she purred, rubbing her leg and hand up his thigh under the table, “I have ways of getting even the toughest nuts to crack.”
Micah gulped and then jumped as her grip tightened. She is an interesting woman, this Jessica Klein. I have to get to know her better.
“I’ll leave it in your capable hands.” He looked down. Her grip tightened.
The waiter appeared with the bill. Micah paid it in cash and requested a receipt. Jessica held onto him firmly, the entire time, while Micah tried to maintain composure. Finally, Micah rose, unable to take any more, forcing Jessica to release her grip. He immediately sat down, red with embarrassment. Nobody noticed his ‘condition,’ but Jessica chuckled. Micah waited until his ‘excitement’ subsided. He glared at Jessica, helped her out of her seat, and escorted her out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. He took her into his arms and kissed her. It was thrilling! He’d been celibate for too long! Doing was much more satisfying than watching. Both finally came up for air.
“What was that nonsense in there?” Micah demanded.
“What nonsense was that?” Jessica teased.
“Oh, never mind, the night is young. Where to, now, in your fair city?” It didn’t seem so God-forsaken anymore.
“How about my place?”
Micah thought about those four-hour erections from the commercials. Who needs Viagra when you have Jessica? His would not subside. We could bottle her and make a fortune! He was putty in her hands.
“Whatever you say, my dear. You’re in charge. I give up,” he conceded.
“My place, then. We’ll plot strategy and begin a physical investigation.”
“Sounds great to me,” he surrendered.
“Let’s go, then.”
“Let’s go, then,” he gestured.
They got in the MKZ and roared off into the night. He’d never driven so fast in his life. He prayed the cops would be somewhere else. His prurient prayers were answered in one spectacular evening.
***
Blake pulled the Z4 onto Jennifer’s driveway and looked at her. She was staring at him.
“What is it, Jenny? What’s wrong?” Zack fretted.
“Nothing, Zack. I’m proud of you, that’s all,” she praised.
“Proud? That’s not the emotion I was hoping for,” he cringed.
She blushed. “Zack, I’m flattered, I really am. I don’t think the timing is good. Maybe after the trial or settlement?” Jennifer leaned toward him and held out her arms. Zack leaned in and banged the side of his ribs on the protruding emergency gearshift. “Shit!” he cursed. Jennifer laughed, the first time in a long time. Although he was in pain, Zack laughed too. He repositioned himself around the shift mechanism, and he took her into his arms for a brief embrace. Jennifer invited him inside for a cup of coffee.
“What about the neighbors? What about the boys? What about the case?”
“I don’t care about the neighbors. You think a cup of coffee would hurt the case somehow?”
“And the boys?”
“They’re probably sleeping.”
“Let’s go see, then.”
They exited the car and approached the side door. Jennifer fumbled with her keys, finally inserting them into the lock. Jennifer opened the door and pushed her finger to her lips, begging for quiet. Zack stopped and listened.
“Not a creature was stirring . . .”
“Let me check on the boys,” she cautioned.
“You go check on the boys. I’ll go freshen up.”
“You do that. The bathroom is down that hall. The family room is at the end of the hall. There is a bar in the wall unit.”
“Would you like me to fix you something, my lady?” He offered gallantly.
“Yes, I would. Do you know how to make a Sea Breeze?”
“With or without cranberry?”
“With.”
“You got it.”
Zack went into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror.
“Not bad, for an old guy,” he primped. He took a pocket brush out of his back pocket and ran it through his gray hair. When it was perfect, he spread his arms out at the mirror, like Henry Winkler used to do in Happy Days. He walked into the family room, found the bar, and made himself an Absolut on the Rocks and Jennifer her Sea Breeze.
As Zack turned toward the couch, he caught her, standing at the threshold of the room. The soft light glowed off her porcelain skin—she looked beautiful. Control yourself, Blake. She’s a client. She had freshened her makeup and hair. Her beauty and sexuality enthralled Zack. He downed his entire drink, staring at her. Then he walked over to her and handed her the sea breeze.
“I take it the boys are sleeping?”
“Yes, they are,” she whispered.
This time, it was Zack who quashed any attempt at intimacy. “Where’s the kitchen?” he gasped. “I’ll make coffee.”
Their eyes met for a moment, and she sensed his discomfort, a conflict between the personal and the professional. She pointed out the kitchen, and he sauntered away. The rest of the evening was spent discussing the boys, the case, the church, the offer, and where the two of them might be headed sometime in the future. Zack was pleased, glad he maintained a level of professionalism. This is a solid beginning.
They walked into the family room and turned on the television. Murphy’s Romance was on HBO. James Garner was telling Sally Field that he would stay for dinner, but only if she’d make him breakfast the next morning . . .
