We were cleaning up—Ronnie staying close but unable to make eye contact; turbulent emotions desperate for equipoise—when a light knock sounded on my door frame.
I knew the woman standing there. Dianne Saunders, wife of George the Home Depot manager. In her right fist, my business card. Her husband George was an unusually attractive man; now that she wasn’t fuming and screaming at me, I could see she wasn’t bad either. She had a wide mouth, the kind necessary to model, and large green eyes, dark hair, absurdly high cheekbones. Freckles too.
Ronnie sucked a little air. Under her breath, she told Manny, “Oh shit. A beautiful woman is here for him. I’m insanely jealous.”
“Mrs. Saunders, come in, please,” I said. Of all the people on earth, she might have been my first choice to come knocking. “Our lunch is concluded.”
She took another long look at Manny and Ronnie.
“Was it a lunch for Roanoke’s most beautiful people? Something like that?” she said.
Manny nodded.
“Sí, mamita. And you belong.”
Polite smile. “Not sure my husband would approve.”
“Approval is overrated.”
Ronnie kissed my cheek. Stepped into her shoes and grabbed Manny by the arm.
“Come on, Marshal. We were just leaving,” she said.
“We were?”
“Yes. We were.”
“Ah. Bueno. Mack, tell the lovely señorita good things about me,” he said.
Dianne Saunders blushed a little. Pressed her lips together.
“He sleeps on the floor of my bedroom,” I said.
“Ay! Dios mio, not that.”
Then he was gone, forcefully tugged by Ronnie.
I closed the door. Dianne moved to my chair. I grabbed another and set it near her, not wishing to grill her over a desk.
“I know I should have called,” she said.
“Not a problem.”
“Your friends are beautiful.”
“I am surrounded by a surplus of it,” I said. “Dianne, I regret ambushing your husband at home. I needed information and sometimes the best way to get it is through surprise. I see now I was poking an open wound.”
She met my eyes. A muscle in her jaw flexed.
“I hate Father Louis,” she said.
“I might also.”
“Somehow he seems to know when I’ll be gone. And that’s when he visits my husband.”
“What for?”
Her head dropped. She rubbed at her eyes with her thumb and forefinger. She spoke toward her knees. “This can’t leave the room.”
“I understand.”
“You promise?”
“Cross my heart,” I said.
“When I first met George, he was…call it bisexual. He doesn’t like that term. He was into heroin and cocaine, and he…was promiscuous with anyone he could find when he was high. We met when he was twenty-five, at rehab. He was trying to quit drugs, and I was an alcoholic. Still am, I guess, but dry. You know? We fell in love, which they told us not to do. A good marriage needs to have one stable partner, they said. They were right. It’s been hard.”
“From what I’ve seen, marriage is hard even without the addictions.”
“Yes. That’s exactly right. And more so when you both…well… Listen, I apologize about the language I used on the street. I don’t hate gay people. I shouldn’t use the vulgar slang. I was furious and protective.”
I said, “How does Louis Lindsey fit into this?”
I already had a hunch.
“I’ll answer that. But it cannot leave the room. Father Louis is the one who got George into rehab. George refused to go until Louis made him, essentially. They were close. They partied together and…they were more than good friends. You understand?”
I nodded.
I knew it.
But I didn’t tell her so; might kill the mood.
She continued, “Isn’t that gross? The age difference? The man’s sixty. Anyway. George goes to rehab, starts to get clean. Meets me, also getting clean. I think Louis’s reasons for making George go to rehab were good, at least partly. But it backfired. George decided the promiscuity was unhealthy and he wanted to only be with women. Me, in particular. Louis didn’t handle it well, you can imagine.”
“I can.”
“It’s been three years. Three. And George still has former friends looking him up for a good time.”
“Some addictions are hard to break,” I said.
“They are. For both of us. And George is trying. He really is. But these temptations keep ringing our doorbell and he…” She stopped. Ran her fingers through her dark hair and gathered her fists at the base of her neck. “Well. I won’t go into details. George and me, we’re both from the country. Both grew up on farms, part of what attracted me to him. We’re getting out of Roanoke soon as we can.”
“Until then, you’re dealing with Louis.”
“Father Louis comes by the house every month or so. Usually when I’m not there, pretending to offer counseling. It’s bullshit, Mr. August.”
“His counseling services are also being plied elsewhere for nefarious purposes.”
“Nefarious?” she said.
“Wicked.”
“You told me you’re trying to catch him, right?”
“Someone in a position of prominence leveled accusations against him. Alleged unwanted sexual advances. Very similar to your situation with George. If I can prove it, he’ll be fired and most likely forced to leave Roanoke. If I can prove abuse, he could spend time in prison.”
“George and me, we’ll never testify. But I want to show you something.” She pulled a cell phone from her pocket. Queued a video and handed it to me. “Recorded this last night. See what you think. Maybe it’ll help.”
I accepted the phone and hit play.
The video was blurry as the camera took a few seconds to focus. The speaker buzzed and the screen jumped. The person recording—Dianne, I assumed—was shooting through a window, between curtains. Through the window, two men were distorted but visible. Louis and George.
Dianne’s voice came through the speaker loud, because her mouth had been close to the mic.
“That’s Father Louis. We told him not to come back, but here he is again. In our backyard.”
The screen jumped again.
“Hang on…I’m opening…the window.”
The camera settled and the voices of the men became audible, but barely. I maxed out the volume. Louis was, without a doubt, drunk.
“Bastard little kid, thinks he’ll ruin me,” Louis was saying. Sounded like, 'Basard lil kid, thinks hill rune me.’ “I gave him every…everything. Gave him the job. Found him a place to live. Even…even the got’damn car he drives, that’s from me. Jeremy Cameron. Jeremy got’damn Cameron and his dumbass inspector… Mackenzie. Can you…can you believe…”
He stumbled through my name just as he stumbled through their backyard. He banged his shin on a wrought iron chair.
“Father Louis, you shouldn’t be here. Not like this. You know how to use Uber?” said George.
“Be sure your sin will find you out, Jeremy Cameron. Be sure of it. How could he do…to me? To me! I am Louis Lindsey. Father Louis. The Father Louis. Do this to me? I can…I can crush him.”
“Go take a walk, Father Louis. I’ll call you a cab.”
“You shut up, George. You shut the hell up! You used to be my… And you left…left me. A true friend sticks closer than a brother. As iron sharpens iron, George. But not you. You left. Son of a bitch, you just…left me.”
“It goes on like that for a while. See the wine glass Louis’s holding? He brought it with him. Full,” said Dianne.
I watched to the end as Louis was staggering away and the video cut off. Louis was unquestionably drunk and irate and abusive. He threatened both George and Jeremy. And if one knew what to look for, there were sexual inferences to be drawn.
“Not ideal behavior from a pastor,” I said.
“Take the video. Show it to the people at his church. Will it be enough?”
“Maybe. I was hired to determine if Louis was abusing Jeremy Cameron. He doesn’t admit it in this video. But…it’s still damaging. His vestry might fire him over it. Does your husband know?”
She nodded.
“George knows. He said you could have it. He hates Louis too. Can I text the video to your phone?”
“Please do.”
“And you’ll show it to the church people? You can force Father Louis to leave us alone?” she said.
“I’m going to try.”