Chapter Four

WHEN I DROVE to Saint Edmund’s, I assumed I was stepping into a routine case, possibly a parishioner with his or her hand in the collection basket. Now, I was in the middle of a murder investigation with virtually no information and a limited ability to ask questions. When I asked Father Lawrence to elaborate on the second threat, he called Father Samuel into his office.

Father Samuel was in his early thirties, older than I would have expected from a recently ordained priest. He was slender in build, with prematurely thinning red hair that provided only patchy coverage to the top of his rather large head.

More interestingly, Father Samuel hardly looked in my direction, offering virtually no acknowledgment I was there. When he finally did glance my way, the first thing I noticed was his eyes. I’d heard of piercing eyes, but I’d never met anyone whose gaze fit that description. Father Samuel’s eyes looked as if they could melt steel. Unlike Father Lawrence, I assumed he felt some distaste for what he viewed as my “sexual deviancy.” Either that, or he didn’t like my new suit. I would hate to think he glared at everyone that way.

Father Lawrence performed the introductions and asked Father Samuel to describe, as precisely as he could, his conversation the day before.

“I was scheduled,” Father Samuel said, “to provide counseling to parishioners after the noon mass yesterday from one to three o’clock.” He chose his words as carefully as Father Lawrence, so much so, I expected him to use air quotes.

“Most Sundays,” he continued, “parishioners seek counseling the hour right after mass, and yesterday was no exception. Only one parishioner entered my booth after that time, and that was around two-fifteen.

“The other individual, the person you’re interested in, came around ten minutes before I was scheduled to leave. From his voice, I would say he was the same individual who made the previous threat. While I can’t tell you his exact wording, I can say another murder is quite possible.”

I figured I could start asking questions at this point. I was careful with my phrasing.

“Based on your conversation, would you guess the second murder might look like the first—a woman killed by a knife?”

“The threat was to a woman. Unlike our first conversation, the method was unspecified.”

My next question was addressed to Father Lawrence. “Father, beyond yourself and Father Samuel, how many priests are there at Saint Edmund’s? If it’s just the two of you, how often do you both hear confession?”

“We are the only two priests in the parish,” Father Lawrence replied. “Regarding our schedule, we normally hear confessions on Tuesdays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Father Samuel bears the brunt of that burden; I cover Tuesdays while he ministers both Saturdays and Sundays. As you can imagine, attendance is far greater on the weekends due to work schedules.”

Father Samuel broke in. “To answer what I’m guessing will be your next question, the first threat occurred on a Saturday, and as I mentioned earlier, the second occurred yesterday after mass.”

I turned again to Father Samuel, but he continued to keep his gaze focused on Father Lawrence.

“Father, do you see any possibility this individual may be targeting you specifically for these confessions? Has anything like this ever happened previously, either before or after your transfer to Cleveland?”

Father Samuel replied in a clipped tone as if I was accusing him of complicity in the threats. “Trust me, Mr. Luvello, if anything like this had happened previously, I would certainly have told my superiors. Regarding your other question, I see no reason to think this individual may be targeting me.”

“While I’m sure you’re correct,” I replied, “I do need to ask any questions I believe might be pertinent to this case.”

Turning my attention back to Father Lawrence, I asked if I could speak to some of the parishioners who attended confession on a regular basis.

“I realize I can’t be open regarding my real reason for asking questions. I would suggest we tell these individuals there have been a couple of break-ins at Saint Edmund’s over the last few weeks. You could tell them I was hired to investigate.”

“That is acceptable,” Father Lawrence said reluctantly. “We actually have had a few minor burglaries recently. How do we explain the lack of police involvement?”

That question had occurred to me as well. “Tell them you have a reason to suspect teenagers are the culprits, and you hope to settle the matter privately without getting them in even more trouble.”

“All right, let’s go with that for now. I believe Father Samuel and I can put our heads together and come up with three to four names. People don’t go to confession as regularly as they used to.”

Father Samuel asked if he could go back to his room to finish morning prayer. As he was walking to the door, he suddenly stopped and looked directly at me.

“Have you ever been to confession, Mr. Luvello?”

“Not since I was about fifteen, Father. Is that a prerequisite for this case?”

“Not at all. I just wanted to offer my services. Seeking forgiveness for your sins can be cathartic, even for those who don’t believe.”

“I never said I didn’t believe, Father. Maybe I don’t think I’ve committed any sins worth confessing.”

Not surprisingly, Father Lawrence picked that point to jump in. “Father Samuel, please leave us. Mr. Luvello, I’d like you to stay awhile longer. We need to talk.”

After Father Samuel closed the door, Father Lawrence said, “Mr. Luvello, please don’t take offense at this question, but can I ask you when and why you decided you were transgender?”

I usually avoided personal questions, but this one caught me off guard. I started to answer before I could think through my response.

“I don’t know, Father. It was about five years ago. I based my decision on where I was at the time and the fact that I’ve always considered myself a male.”

“You looked at the facts, and you made a deduction based on what you knew. Did you ever really trust in your decision?”

“With all due respect, Father, I have no idea where you’re coming from. Look at me and look at the clothes I’m wearing. How could you possibly ask if I trusted my decision? Do you think I’m dressed like this because I like men’s suits?” My voice had gotten louder than it should, but he was starting to piss me off.

He shook his head and tried again, the lonely Jesuit lecturing the recalcitrant student. “Let me try to put this differently. When you came here, you asked if it bothered me that you were transgender. I told you no, and that was an honest answer. I didn’t tell you there were two things that did give me pause. The first was when your brother told me you decided this five years ago and then backed out of the surgery. Second, from what Paul told me and what little I’ve observed, it sometimes appears you treat your identity as more of an annoyance than something central to what you are. Taken together, those things tell me you may have decided in your head you were transgender, but you didn’t trust your own decision.”

Spreading his hands in a gesture of conciliation, Lawrence said, “Don’t get me wrong, I don’t doubt for a second that you are transgender. In the context of this case, however, your skills at deduction are of absolutely no use to me if you don’t trust in them yourself. I should also say this relates to you and Father Samuel. I realize he has his issues, and I will speak to him. That being said, I need to know those issues will not get in the way of you solving this case.”

I was still angry, but I was also feeling a degree of self-doubt. Introspection has never been my strong suit. Not sure what else to say, I threw his words back at him.

“You may have a point, Father, but now I need you to trust me. While speaking to Father Samuel, an unknown person declared his intent to commit murder. Now, a woman has been killed, quite possibly by the same individual. While I may not like the good Father, I’ve found that to be true of many clients. That has never kept me from doing my job, and I promise you it won’t in this case.”

“Fair enough. I will text you the names you asked for, and I’ll call each of them ahead of time to tell them you may be visiting. While I can’t say how they’ll react, I think most of the parishioners here are open-minded. Please solve this thing before anyone else gets killed.”

Unfortunately, I failed on Father’s last request within a few hours of our meeting.