“What did you think of, Monty?”
“Your sunburned back. It must have been painful.”
“Yeah, must have been. But I’m over it now.”
“No, you’re not. When Eileen told me the story, I pictured you and the older priest sitting on the beach in your black summer shirts. Eileen said something about priests’ short-sleeved shirts, and something funny the older man was wearing.”
“Yes, I seem to recall the kids giggling about something he had on. A hat?”
I drove for a few minutes in silence. “A tie, that was it, with a funny picture on it. But I don’t think she said anything about what you were wearing. Not till she mentioned your sunburn.” I looked at Brennan in the passenger seat. “You sat out there bare-chested long
enough to get a burn. ‘Some boy jumped on Father Burke’s sunburned back and he looked as if he wanted to screech.’ That’s what Eileen told me. You see what I’m saying?”
He nodded, looking miserable. “I was sunbathing long enough for Eileen to get a very good look at the cross above my heart.”
“We’ve got her.”
“This doesn’t feel like a glory finish, Monty.”
“It won’t. Not tonight.”
IV
Eileen’s flat was in a badly maintained three-storey house on the corner of Robie and Yew streets. I parked at the back of the house where there was a deck and a series of fire escape stairs to the top. By the time I had yanked on the emergency brake, Burke was out of the car. I called to him to wait, but he paid me no mind. Just as I opened my door, an old sedan pulled in behind me and the driver blasted the horn. When I turned my head, I saw a curtain move in the basement apartment. So much for the element of surprise. Several young men emerged from the old car and the driver said to me, courteously enough: “You can’t park here. But you’ll be all right on the street.” By the time I moved the car and got to the basement door, Burke had gone in.
I peered through the lace curtain in the door window. There was no sign of Brennan or Eileen. The door was unlocked and it opened directly onto a small vestibule, leading into the kitchen. There on the kitchen floor was Eileen, flat on her back with Brennan on top of her, kneeling on her legs, his hands holding hers together on her belly. Both were trying to catch their breath. I could not see the expression on his face; her expression was one of sheer terror. I was not sure whether they were aware of my presence. There was blood streaming down the left side of Brennan’s forehead. A big, heavy flashlight lay on the floor beside them.
The kitchen was dark and shabby, everything in ugly shades of avocado green, gold, and brown, from the torn linoleum floor to the appliances and cupboard doors. I could see part of the living room,
a gold-and-brown patterned shag carpet and a flowered chesterfield.
Eileen saw me and I thought I detected a look of relief. “Get off me,” she ordered Burke.
“Are you going to attack me again if I do?” he asked. She struggled without replying. He relaxed his grip on her hands, then eased himself up and backed away. She lay for a moment, massaging her wrists, then stood. She moved to the doorway between the kitchen and the living room and leaned against it, looking from Brennan to me. She wore a pair of light blue pants with an elastic waist, a drip-dry blouse of pale pink, and an old white cardigan. She had fuzzy pink slippers on her feet.
Brennan looked into her eyes, and said softly: “Rachel.” Eileen propelled herself from the doorway and lunged at him, hands going for his throat. He was ready for her. He caught her right arm and wrenched it behind her back, twisting her around in the process. Her left arm flailed harmlessly. He pushed her, not roughly, so that her head was against one of the cupboards. I moved to her side.
“Shall we call the police, or do you want to talk to us?” I asked, but she made no reply. “Can we let you go, or do we have to hold you like this all night till we hear what you have to say? You decide.”
“Let me go if you want me to talk.” Brennan slowly released her. She walked into the living room without giving us another glance and sat in a garish arm chair that almost matched the chesterfield.
“What happened?” I whispered to Brennan. “Why did you rush ahead without me? I know she heard us in the parking lot.”
“She was waiting for me. I knocked and the door was open. I walked in and she launched herself at me with that flashlight in her hand. I don’t know what she was aiming for but I ducked and she got me here.” He touched his hairline. “I landed on my arse on the floor, but I managed to pin her down. Strong woman!”
“It could have been a lot worse for you. Have you forgotten she’s killed two people?”
We headed for the living room, where Eileen sat, glaring with malevolence at Brennan’s approach.
“You’re an intelligent man, Burke,” she began. “But you didn’t figure this out, did you? And why should you? You were hardly aware of my existence. And yet, in a way, I am your creature. If it hadn’t
been for you, twenty-two years ago, I would be a different woman today. And two other women would still be alive. Undeservedly so.”
I began the questioning. “What happened twenty-two years ago, Eileen?”
“I told you what happened. But I suppose it was not significant enough to register.”
“You told me about the adoption that fell through. And that was a tragedy for you, I know. But what does that have to do with Brennan?”
“Ask
him.”
He stared at her without comprehension. “Doesn’t remember. Big surprise. Why would it stand out in his mind, the fact that he ruined my chance to be adopted by the Kernaghans?”
“Did he even know about your hopes for the Kernaghans?”
“He knew, but he didn’t fucking care. He didn’t give me a thought. A little girl named Natalie came to St. Bernadette’s that year. She was five, delicate and adorable, with curly hair and great big, dark eyes. The Kernaghans came for a visit. I was in the parlour, preening myself and waiting, trying not to bite my fingernails. Burke was with the Kernaghans when they came in and he said something like: ‘You know Eileen. And oh, let me go find Natalie. She came to us last month.’ I knew Natalie’s parents had been killed in some kind of tragedy. She didn’t come from a trashy background like the rest of us. The Kernaghans must have thought: ‘Natalie’s so young, not as much damage to show up later. And we can’t leave her here to waste away.’ Who knows? I did hear one conversation about adoption shortly after that. A conversation between Burke and one of the sisters. I heard him say: “Eileen? Oh, she’ll be fine. Now I need everybody over at choir early tomorrow.’ That was it. He just tossed me off. And her! Sister. She knew better, but she went along, didn’t she?”
Her eyes blazed hatred at Burke. Her face was mottled; her hair hung in lank strands and clung to her cheeks; her hands were bunched in tight fists on the arms of her chair as she leaned towards him. Facing her, silent, Brennan was the picture of desolation.
“How did you do it, Eileen?” I gambled that, with her secret exposed, she might take advantage of Burke’s undivided attention to rub our noses in it as much as she could. “It’s not only Father Burke
you managed to fool. The police department, the prosecutor’s office, and a jury of twelve were all taken in. How did you manage it?”
She saw through me but didn’t care. This was her moment and she was going to live it to the fullest.
“I wanted to help that c —... Leeza Rae.” Eileen could kill Leeza with her bare hands but could not bring herself to use the c-word against another woman. “I got her the job at the centre. I tried to help her fit in and make plans for her future. But she began to confide in me about that monstrous boyfriend of hers. He had raped a teenage girl. She spent half her days at work trying to arrange trips to Dorchester to see him. I nearly tipped my hand to you the first time we talked. I said something about no woman being able to side with a rapist. I had to be careful after that.” No, you didn’t, I thought. I had missed it, as I had missed so much else. “Anyway, I was visiting the law school one day.”
I remembered questioning the librarian about the vandal who had gone along on the career day trip; didn’t she tell me Eileen had her head stuck in a book?
“Fate presented me with a copy of the decision of the Court of Appeal in the rape case. Leeza had collaborated with the boys while they raped and humiliated that little girl. You know how I feel about people who betray children. And betrayal was on my mind a lot last winter, after
he
arrived on the scene.” She jerked her head in Burke’s direction. “When he showed up at St. Bernie’s, it all came back to me. I couldn’t keep it buried.”
Eileen stopped for breath, then went on with an eerie calm. “Leeza Rae did not deserve to go on living. One can’t expect any better from the males — at least they served some time in prison, though it should have been life. But that’s always the way, isn’t it, Collins?
“I had to remove her from the human race, so no other young girl would ever suffer the same treatment from her and whatever male was directing her life in the future. So, how could I eliminate her, and get away with it? I had no idea where to get my hands on a gun, and if I did, the police might be able to trace it. A skull fracture would have to do. I would strike her in the head until all brain function ceased. I knew it would be messy. I ordered two plain plastic raincoats from a mail order place out west. One for me, one for her.
“It seemed only fitting that Burke should get credit for the murder. After all, if it hadn’t been for him, I would not have been here to do the deed at all. I already knew one useful thing about him: that little scar on his chest. I could not take my eyes off it that day I saw him at the beach. He was the first man I had ever seen half naked, because you’ll remember I never had a father. A crucifix inscribed on his skin! I thought he was a messenger from God.
“If a person commits a violent crime against another, we’re told, he always leaves a trace of himself behind. So I had to deposit some kind of evidence from
him
—” she looked at Brennan as if he were vermin “— on the body. The chances of close physical contact between him and me were about zero.” Brennan squirmed. “So I would have to be clever. There was a variety show in the works, and I came up with the generous idea of including the choir, and him, in a last-minute addition to the show. How could I get some of his hair? Put a wig on his head! I considered borrowing a clerical jacket and collar and playing the role of Father Burke myself, so I could get threads from the jacket. But that would be too obvious. So I let Erin do the honours, in her own black jacket.”
I took a chance that a question here and there about her methods would not be unwelcome. This would be my only opportunity to question her. “How did you know Father Burke would not take the wig off when the skit was over?”
“Oh, I didn’t,” Eileen replied. She moved forward in her seat. “At first I just hoped a couple of hairs would stick to the netting of the wig. But I wanted to be sure, so I put a few small dabs of glue in it just before I passed it to Erin to hand to him. Then, when he didn’t take it off right away after the skit, I decided to step in. Some of the children were starting to take their robes off. Burke had been looking for a copy of the program, so I put one on a desk, and he sat down. I got behind him and pulled the wig off, making sure I got a good grip on his hair.” She seemed lost in memory, then continued: “I could scarcely believe my luck when you, Collins, came in to ask about the wig. Oh, you had me worried for a minute there, but then you told me Father O’Flaherty had removed the wig. Burke hadn’t turned around, so he thought it was Mike. At the time, Mike was botching the job of pulling a robe off one of the kids, so I took the
opportunity to use his name: ‘Take it easy there, Father O’Flaherty’ or whatever I said. It was at that moment I knew I was going to kill Leeza, and nobody was going to trace it back to me.” Eileen sounded elated. “Two months went by before I got my chance.” Eileen jumped up. Brennan and I tensed. But she turned away from us. “This is where it happened.” She pointed to a simple wooden chair in front of a table, on which rested a dusty plant and a small plate of soda crackers smeared with margarine. “I made plans to meet Leeza after the Valentine’s dance and drive her here. The pretext was that I had found a way she could get a regular ride up to Dorchester to see the rapist. I put a little address book on that table and told her the guy who would drive her was listed under T. Then I went into my room and put on my black raincoat and hood, so I wouldn’t get anything on my clothes and there would be no traces of my clothing on her. I told her I had just bought the coat. Did she think it looked all right? I asked if she had found the guy’s phone number, which she hadn’t of course; it didn’t exist.
“When she bent over the book again, I was ready. I pulled out my weapon. I wonder if Father O’Flaherty ever noticed that one of his stone crosses is missing, one the size of a small hatchet. You won’t find it here. I should buy him a new one for Christmas! Sign Burke’s name to the card.”
“A Celtic cross!” I burst out. So she had made a slip that day we were painting the church. What had she said to Maura? “At least he didn’t go at you with his crucifix.” Poor Mike O’Flaherty.
“I pulled it out from under the raincoat. And I brought it down on her stupid, worthless little head. Over and over till I knew she couldn’t survive. Carved my signature and yours, Father, into her skin, and waited till she breathed her last.”
Eileen had her back to us. We didn’t say a word, and she resumed her narrative, her voice now overly loud. “Do you hear that?” She pointed to the ceiling, and I realized a stereo had been thumping and pounding the whole time we had been in the basement apartment. She returned to her seat. “It’s always like that. Frat boys. That’s what I have to live with, every night. Can’t afford anything better. It was like that the night I brought Leeza here. I knew I could count on the stereo. Nobody heard a thing. Then I pretended to stagger to my car,
propping Leeza up with my arm around her. We looked like two more drunks reeling from the frat house. I had her in the other raincoat by that time. I didn’t want any blood in my car. She had been in the car on the way over, so I vacuumed it the next afternoon at a car wash in Dartmouth. But the police never examined it. Anyway, that night I drove along the service road at the top of the peninsula, till I got to a good spot under the bridge. When I thought the coast was clear, I dumped her out. Once she was gone, I started shaking. I drove home, cleaned the apartment, had a shower, and hosed down my raincoat.