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Michael got out of the truck and closed the door, looking around. He was parked at the side of a wide, tree-lined street populated with a mix of large old Victorian and Colonial homes with spacious, well-groomed lawns. It looked like something out of a magazine...or a horror movie. Sleepy, picturesque town gets besieged by demons or zombies.
Circling the truck, he glanced up at the impressive gray stone front of St. Peter’s Roman Catholic Church. Statues flanked the wide stone steps on either side, surrounded by flowers. A fountain around the side and to the right of the entrance offered peace and serenity with a bench and another statue. The front lawn was split in two by a walkway leading to the steps of the church with a bronze statue of St. Pete himself dominating one of the halves. On the right of the huge church was a smaller, square building that appeared to be a school. The two structures were separated by a narrow alleyway running from the street back to a parking lot behind the buildings. To the left of the church, a rather modest rectory sat at the end of path lined with rose bushes. All of the lawns were impeccably manicured. Clearly this was not a parish hurting for funds.
“That’s the convent over there,” said Angela, climbing out of the truck and closing the door. She pointed to yet another stone building on the other side of the school. “The nuns teach at the school. Alina and Stephanie both went there.”
“Really?” he asked, glancing over to the school. “You didn’t?”
“No. I went to public school, thank God,” she said cheerfully. “Ask Lina for some of her horror stories sometime. She got into a lot of trouble with the nuns.”
“That’s doesn’t surprise me one bit,” Michael said with a grin.
They walked along the sidewalk in front of the church until they reached the path to the steps.
“Where does that driveway go?” he asked, nodding to the alley between the school and church.
“There’s a big lot behind the church,” Angela explained. “That’s probably where Joanne parked. There was a spot in the street so I didn’t think to tell you about it.”
“No worries. Just curious.”
Michael scanned the area around the entrance of the church as they walked up the path, noting the walkway running around the side in front of the fountain before leading to the rectory. He hated churches. They always had multiple entrances and exits. Even with a whole team they were a nightmare to secure, and he only had himself. For maybe the hundredth time, he silently cursed Damon for putting him in this position.
“There’s Joanne,” Angela said, waving to the woman hurrying up from the alley.
“Sorry I’m late!” the woman called breathlessly. “I just had to stop at Aunt Charlotte’s for some chocolate while I’m in town. Bill will kill me if I go back to the hotel without any. He’s been looking forward to it since we flew in.”
“Don’t worry! We just got here ourselves,” Angela answered with a smile. “Is Father Angelo expecting us in the church or over at the rectory?”
“The church.”
Joanne bustled to a stop in front of them, her bleached hair blowing in the breeze. She was a tall woman, still attractive in her later years, and full of energy. The dark rings under her eyes bespoke sleepless nights after the death of her only child, but she was putting on a good front. Michael got the impression appearances meant a lot to her.
“He’s probably inside. Shall we?” she asked, starting up the steps.
Michael started after the women. His foot was on the second step when his phone started ringing. He reached into his pocket, smiling apologetically as the two women turned to look at him.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “You two go ahead. I’ll catch up. I have to take this.”
“Ok. Just go through the vestibule into the sanctuary,” Angela said, turning to continue up the steps.
Michael nodded and returned to the sidewalk.
“Thank God,” he answered the phone in relief, his voice low.
“Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good,” Blake said with a laugh. “What’s going on?”
“You caught me about to step foot in a church for the first time in years,” Michael told him, turning to walk along the sidewalk towards the fountain. “I’m keeping an eye on Angela while she does funeral stuff.”
“Funeral stuff?”
“Yeah. We went to the funeral home, and now we’re at the church.”
“Well that doesn’t sound like a good time.”
Michael looked at the fountain and the statue of Mary, then continued along the path. About halfway down was another, steeper set of stone steps leading up to another door. Another entrance to the church. He stifled a sigh.
“It’s not. I had to listen for over forty-five minutes while Angela and John’s mother debated the pros and cons of white versus cream flowers.”
“Ouch.”
“Mind you, they’d already ordered the flowers. It was already a done deal.”
“Then...why the debate?” Blake asked.
“I have no idea,” Michael confessed, shaking his head. “It was a complete waste of time. I still don’t know why they went.”
“Well if it helps at all, I’m sitting in a chair outside a fitting room, holding Stephanie's purse and looking like a fool,” Blake offered.
Michael grinned.
“That does make me feel better!”
“I thought it would. We went to lunch when she was done at the bank and somehow I ended up here. Why do women make us hold their purse? They carry it everywhere, every day. Why can’t they take it into the fitting room? Is there some risk of a fitting room black hole opening up and swallowing it?”
“Why do women do anything they do? Like debate the color of flowers already ordered?” Michael countered, strolling along the path to the steps ahead. “Have you heard anything from Washington yet? Did they pull in the guy who planted the drugs?”
“They can’t find him,” Blake said glumly. “They went to his apartment and he wasn’t there. The last person to see him was his roommate last night at the bar.”
“They’ll find him,” Michael said, starting up the steps toward the side door. “He’s probably sleeping it off somewhere.”
“Yeah.”
Michael looked up in surprise as the door above him opened suddenly and a priest appeared. He was dressed in black slacks and button down shirt, the white collar stark amidst all the black, and he looked just as startled to see Michael.
“Hold on, Blake,” Michael murmured. “Hello. Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Not at all. Can I help?” the priest asked with a smile.
“I’m with the two women meeting Father Angelo,” said Michael, reaching the top of the steps. “I had to take a call, so I told them I’d meet them inside.”
“Ah! I appreciate that. Many don’t think to keep their phones out of the sanctuary,” the priest said cheerfully. He held the door open for Michael. “They’re in the front, near the altar.”
“Thank you,” Michael said, grabbing the door.
“My pleasure. Have a good day.”
The priest started down the steps.
“You too, Father.”
Michael watched the priest descend and lifted his phone back to his ear.
“Let me call you back when I’m done here,” he said. “I’m about to go inside and I guess they frown on phones in the church.”
“No problem. I’ll talk to you later.”
Michael hung up and stepped into the dark, cool antechamber. The smell of incense assaulted him as the door closed behind him and he looked around. A tall statue of a benevolent-looking man dressed in robes looked down over rows of candles with a kneeler in front of them. He shook his head and moved across the small room toward the larger sanctuary beyond.
Rows of gleaming pews stretched in either direction and Michael looked around in surprise. The church was huge. The pews were divided into four sections divided by a wide walkway, two sections in the front half of the church and the other two in the back half. A wide center aisle ran from the front entrance all the way down to the altar. Across from him, suspended above the left side of the church like an old-style box seat at a playhouse, was an organ loft. He raised an eyebrow in surprise. Not many small town churches had organ lofts. At least, not where he came from.
The lighting was muted and the cavernous sanctuary was quiet; every step he took echoing around the space. Angela and Joanne stood before the altar with a tall priest who was graying at the temples. He was dressed in the same black slacks and shirt as the priest Michael had just passed.
“Oh, Michael!” Angela caught sight of him and waved him forward. “Come give your opinion.”
Michael strode down a side aisle along the right side, passing confessional booths on his way, and crossed to where the threesome stood. As he approached, the priest smiled at him and nodded in greeting.
“Good afternoon,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Monsignor Fanucci. Everyone calls me Father Angelo. I’ll be saying the mass tomorrow.”
“Hello, Father,” Michael shook his hand firmly. “Michael O’Reilly. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“We were just trying to decide where we’ll be seated,” Joanne told him. “I think the left side, but Father Angelo seems to think the right is better.”
Michael blinked and glanced at the Monsignor. He thought he detected a glint of amusement in the older man’s gray eyes.
“Umm...” Michael turned to face the two lines of pews stretching endlessly to the back of the church. “There doesn’t seem to be much difference between the two,” he ventured. “Why do you think the left is better?”
“Because everyone will be coming from the right,” Angela explained. “Joanne thinks it will aid in the flow of traffic if we’re on the other side.”
“You have to realize that mourners will want to pay their respects to you,” Father Angelo interjected calmly. “They will simply walk over, then have to come back again to go to their seats. It will create more of a bottleneck. I’ve officiated many large funerals, unfortunately, and have seen it happen.”
Michael looked at the women.
“Makes sense,” he said. “Why is everyone coming from the right?”
“John will be laid out in that antechamber you just came through,” Joanne said. “So they will come from that direction.”
Michael stared at her.
“Why is he going to be laid out in there?”
The two women stared back at him.
“So people can say goodbye, of course,” said Joanne.
“Isn’t that what the viewing tonight is for?”
Father Angelo fell into a sudden coughing fit.
“Well, yes,” Joanne said, glancing at the Monsignor, “but it seems only fair to give anyone who doesn’t come tonight the opportunity to...see him one last time.”
Michael felt a dull throb starting in his temple.
“I see.”
“Of course, if you don’t have him laid out in there, we could position the coffin here, in front of the altar,” Father Angelo suggested, clearing his throat. “You can still have the casket open if you prefer. If we position him here, the mourners can come down the right, pay their respects, then move up the center to their seats. We’ve had great success with that flow.”
“Have him...right here?” Joanne asked, motioning to the center before the steps leading up to the altar. “Is there room?”
“Oh yes! And they can offer you their condolences as they walk up the center aisle. At that point, it doesn’t matter which side you’re on, so if you prefer the left, you can be on the left.”
Michael glanced at the priest and breathed a silent sigh of relief that the older man was taking over the discussion. He turned to look up at the altar. A large statue of the crucified Jesus dominated the back wall. To the right of the altar, a door was ajar. It appeared to lead into a back room, probably for the priests. To the left was another room, encased in windows with curtains. Michael looked at it thoughtfully. What was it?
“...if you think that would be best. Don’t you agree, Michael?”
Joanne’s voice pulled him reluctantly back to the conversation.
“Absolutely,” he said promptly, turning back to the group.
Father Angelo’s eyes lit with laughter and Michael knew the priest was fully aware Michael had absolutely no idea what he had just agreed with.
“That’s settled,” Angela said cheerfully. “I think Alina and Stephanie should be in the front pew with you, Joanne. Don’t you agree? After all, they probably knew him the best out of all of us. I can be in the second pew, with Michael and Blake.”
“Yes, I don’t see any reason that wouldn’t be appropriate,” Joanne agreed. “How is Alina? This must have been such a shock to her. John said she was back. I was hoping...well, it doesn’t matter now.”
Michael’s eyebrows raised into his forehead of their own accord and he turned away to continue looking at the strange off-chamber with the curtains.
“The Mother’s Room,” Father Angelo said at his elbow.
Michael glanced at him in surprise and the priest grinned.
“I make my living observing people and what moves them,” the older man told him. “You’re wondering what that room is. It is for mothers with infants so they can attend mass and not disturb the other parishioners.”
“Do babies disturb?” Michael asked.
“When they’re unhappy, yes. It is the nature of us all, I’m afraid.”
“Huh.” Michael turned back to look at the expanse of pews. “It’s a beautiful church.”
“We are very blessed here,” Father Angelo agreed, turning to look out over the sanctuary with Michael. “You’re Irish? What parish do you attend?”
“Oh, I live in DC,” Michael said. “I was raised in Brooklyn.”
“Ah, Brooklyn. I served in a little parish there when I was first ordained. St. Michael’s.”
“I was in St. Matthew’s,” Michael said. “My parents are still there.”
“Do you get back to Brooklyn often?”
“Fairly often, when work allows.”
“And what kind of work do you do?”
“I’m in the Secret Service.”
“Ah, another Federal agent,” Father Angelo nodded and smiled. “I should have known. You have the bearing of a military man. Have you served?”
“Marines.”
“I thought so. Thank you for your service. Did you know John from work?”
“In a way,” Michael murmured. “We had a mutual friend: Alina.”
“Oh yes! I’ll be glad to see her again, even if it is under these circumstances.”
Michael looked at him in surprise.
“You know her?”
Father Angelo smiled.
“Yes, of course. She attended the school here,” he said. “She helped with the retreats after she went on to high school. I spoke with her a few days before she joined the Navy. I haven’t seen her since. Joanne told me she is back in Jersey.”
“Yes,” said Michael. “She travels quite a bit.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m glad she’s made a place for herself in this world. There was a time when she was very lost.”
“When Dave died?” It was Father Angelo’s turn to look surprised and Michael grinned. “I served with Dave. I was there the day he died. That’s how I met her. I promised Dave...well, it doesn’t matter.”
“That was a tragedy,” Father Angelo said. “War is such a terrible thing. It tears so many lives apart.”
“Monsignor, would it be possible to have the organ play tomorrow?” Joanne called from where she and Angela had moved farther down the wide center aisle toward the middle of the church. “John loved that organ when he was a boy.”
“Unfortunately, the pipes are being cleaned and restored, so that’s not possible,” Father Angelo replied, moving toward the two women. “However, we can feed organ music through the sound system. Do you have a particular hymn in mind?”
Michael watched as the priest joined the two women, then turned to gaze slowly around the whole church. It was far too large to cover all the entrances and exits effectively tomorrow. If he had a few weeks to plan, he might be able to come up with something to ensure Alina’s safety, but with less than twenty-four hours, it was impossible.
He shook his head and turned to follow the priest. The only thing they had on their side was that the majority of the attendees were Federal agents and would be carrying firearms. It would be suicide for anyone to come into the funeral with the intent to hit Viper. The odds would be heavily against them.
Unfortunately, Michael knew that odds didn’t have much to do with it.