Authors: Nic Widhalm
Jackie had been a cop for the last ten years and was good at it.
Damn good
, she told herself as she drove through the busy lunch-hour streets. She had received seven commendations during her time, four from her stint in the NYPD, and three—grudgingly—given to her after her return to Denver. All for acts of self-sacrifice and bravery in the line of service.
If it’s so fucking brave, why can’t the department clear a raise
? Jackie thought grumpily. On a whim she exited the interstate early and turned into a narrow street filled with squat, dirty-gray houses, and gutters clogged with old newspaper and rotten leaves.
Hell of a route to take
.
I never should have come home
.
The street was a disturbing example of the way her old neighborhood had changed since she was a little girl, living just a few blocks west. Back then, it had been crime-dramas and Matlock reruns that had made her dream of being a cop. If she had known her old haunts and hangouts would eventually become real-life dramas, worse than anything she watched as a kid, she would have stayed in New York.
That’s why you’re so fixated on this case. It’s the cathedral; you feel guilty for leaving
. Jackie drove through the clogged street, wincing at the state of decay.
It has nothing to do with Friskin, or those symbols you
think
you saw the priest studying,
Jackie comforted herself.
Yeah, right
.
Arriving at the cathedral, she pulled into one of several deserted parking spots and reviewed her questions. Jackie hated to admit, but Russ was right—she
was
taking a big risk going back to Saint Catherine's. Not only was she officially off the case, but if Valdis grew suspicious over her questioning and filed a complaint she could be brought up on harassment charges.
I might be a super-cop
, she thought.
But even a super-cop can slip-up
.
Jackie squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and stared at herself in the rear-view mirror. “Get a grip,” she said quietly. After another quick breath and a nod to her reflection, she opened the door and exited to the brisk December air.
Entering the church, Jackie was struck again by a strong sense of déjà vue. There, over by the yellowed pamphlets espousing the historical significance of Saint Catherine’s, was the stone bench she used to sit on while waiting for her parents to finish congratulating the priest on that Sunday’s sermon. And through the archway, snuggled gently into the corner, was the ancient water basin holding the bitterly cold holy water Jackie had refused to tip her fingers in. The memories were not unpleasant, but Jackie couldn’t help but feel a tinge of melancholy looking at the faded stained-glass and empty pews.
She continued down the aisle until she reached the end of the nave, positioning herself in the corner of the front pews. From here she could make out the large cross bearing an emaciated, withered-looking Christ. The figure hung in an awkward sprawl, his hands over his head, knees jutting forward in a mangled “S.” Jackie remembered the image inspiring several nightmares as a child.
It wasn’t long before a rotund, balding priest approached her from one of the side doors and inquired as to her presence.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Jackie said in her most addle-brained voice. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Do you have a service any time soon?”
The priest smiled. “I’m afraid you missed our morning Mass, but if you come a bit earlier tomorrow we have another. Every morning, in fact.”
“I don’t suppose Father Valdis will deliver that service?”
“Oh,” The priest’s eyebrows raised. “You know Father Valdis?”
Jackie smiled sweetly. “Yes, he was a friend of my parents when I came here as a child. I’ve recently moved back to town, and was hoping he might still be at Saint Catherine’s.”
“Not to be rude, my dear,” said the priest, leaning closer to Jackie, “but I didn’t think Father Valdis
had
any friends.”
“Well…” Jackie cursed inwardly and backpedaled. “More acquaintances, I guess. I was so young, who really knows. And now that my parents have passed on…”
“Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry,” the fat man took her hand. “I’ll take you to see Father Valdis right away. I’m sure he would be devastated to hear his…uh…acquaintances did you say? That his acquaintances have passed away. Just a moment, dear,” the priest patted her hand kindly and left.
Dead parents. Gets them every time
.
She didn’t have to wait long for the priest to return. After only a minute, the door opened and the priest entered with a familiar figure trailing behind, eyes wide in confusion. As Valdis neared and noticed the detective, Jackie thought she saw his eyes narrow for a moment before going back to wide-eyed puzzlement. The change was so quick she couldn’t be certain, but Jackie used the opportunity to remind herself to stay alert. She was walking a fine line here.
The younger priest smiled happily as he reached Jackie, motioning to Father Valdis. “A bit older,” he said. “But the same Anthony Valdis, none-the-less.” He looked back and forth between the two, and noticing that neither seemed to enjoy the joke, shrugged and left.
After the priest exited, Valdis turned back to Jackie. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents, Detective.”
“He told you?”
“Father Gregory has a loose tongue. I’m surprised he didn’t shout the news as he ran to fetch me.”
Now that she was here, the priest in front of her, Jackie found herself uncharacteristically tentative. She nodded absently, trying to think of how to start.
Valdis’ lips pursed as he continued to study Jackie. “Forgive me, Detective, but is there something I can help you with? I must admit, I don’t think I knew your parents.”
“No, probably not,” she said. “Is there somewhere we can talk privately?”
Valdis gazed at her another moment, then nodded slightly and guided her through one of the side doors into the stone corridor that Jackie recognized from her previous visit.
As they walked down the dark hallway Jackie marveled at the craftsmanship of the tunnel, wondering out-loud how it had managed to withstand the passage of so many years.
“It’s a wonder,” Valdis said as they walked. “That so much of the rest of the cathedral should fall into ruin is truly a sin.” He shook his head. “One day I hope to restore the cathedral to its original state.”
“That doesn’t sound cheap.”
“Nothing worthwhile is.”
Valdis slowed as they came to one of the wooden doors bisecting the corridor. He produced a small brass key from the fold of his pockets, and after a quick jingle opened the door to a musty little office, littered with manuscripts and books. The priest stepped into the room and switched on the lights. The fluorescent overhang flickered into life, giving the crowded space the look of a professor’s office at a community college. Valdis smiled sheepishly as he moved through the room, sweeping piles of opened books from a dusty green chair—
Vintage 1970
, Jackie thought—and motioning for her to sit. She did so, thanking the priest as Valdis joined her on the other side of the large desk, easing himself into a large, over-stuffed recliner. His hands were shaking as he lowered himself. “My one vice,” Valdis sighed. “My old bones have been sitting on plastic seats for decades. I think they’ve earned a rest.”
“I’d say so,” Jackie smiled, trying to put the nervous old man at ease. She looked around the cluttered office. “I see they keep you busy?”
“Just hobbies of mine. Whatever the Lord requires.” Valdis gazed around the room, his eyes darting from any chance meeting with Jackie’s.
It didn’t take a detective to know the old man was hiding something, but Jackie didn’t want to scare him off, so she continued to smile. Her cheeks were growing sore. “Well, I suppose you’re wondering what I’m doing here, and why I didn’t tell your friend I’m a cop?”
“Actually,” Valdis said. “You did me a bit of a favor—not mentioning your occupation, that is. I already have a reputation for…
oddness
with the clergy, and I don’t think the bishop would appreciate any more attention at the moment.”
“Honestly, Father, it wasn’t entirely for your benefit. Let’s just say I’d like this meeting to stay off the books too.”
Valdis finally met her eyes. “In that case, Detective, why don’t you tell me why you’re here.”
“I’m interested in angels,” Jackie said.
The priest couldn’t hide the surprise in his eyes, but Jackie read more in the way his hands suddenly dug into the brown leather arm-rests. Valdis was frightened.
“Well, you’ve come to the right place,” he said with an awkward nonchalance. Standing, he reached over to the top shelf of one of the massive bookshelves bordering his desk, and retrieved a large, leather-bound manuscript. Struggling under its weight, Valdis let the tome sink to the desk with noticeable relief. He adjusted his glasses and began thumbing through the pages. “You should have just said this was a personal visit, Detective. No need for the mystery.”
“That’s the thing, Father. It isn’t personal.”
Valdis stopped. “You think this has to do with the murders?”
Jesus, this guy is a bad liar. Why doesn’t he just announce he’s hiding something?
“Yeah,” Jackie said. “I do.”
Valdis let go of the book and sat back, folding his hands on his lap. “I’m afraid that you’ve lost me.”
Jackie pulled her notebook, drew out a page, and slid it across the table. “Do you recognize this symbol?”
Valdis squinted down at the drawing. It was a sketch the nurse had made of Friskin’s birthmark: a twisted, curving character that looked like a cross between a Chinese logogram and Celtic knot. If the nurse hadn’t sworn it was a birthmark, Jackie would have said it was just a weird tattoo.
After a few seconds Valdis lifted his head and splayed his hands helplessly. “I wish I could be more helpful, Detective, but I’ve never seen this symbol before.”
“Really? You’re sure about that?”
“Positive.”
Jackie bit her lip.
Here’s where it gets complicated
. She had no concrete evidence; nothing to show in her defense if Valdis got pissed and decided to phone in a complaint to her captain. She leaned back, “Three days ago I questioned you in the library. You remember?”
“Yes.”
“The book you were reading…I saw a page when it fell.”
Valdis paused, then, “Is that so?”
“It was filled with symbols.” Jackie pulled another page from her notebook and placed it in front of the priest. It was covered with images that matched the design of Friskin’s birthmark. At the top was printed:
Enochian Alphabet
.
Valdis snorted. “I’m familiar with the so-called ‘Celestial Alphabet,’ if that is what you’re asking. Anyone who’s read my papers knows my interest in ancient ciphers. But Enochian is neither ancient, nor really a proper alphabet. It was ‘revealed’ to John Dee in the late sixteenth century by his ‘angelic friends,’ and adopted over the years by every manner of occultist and self-proclaimed magician. Not something I base much academic faith in, Detective Riese.”
“So this,” Jackie pointed to one of the Enochian symbols, “wasn’t what you were studying? The page I saw, I was mistaken?”
Valdis shrugged, avoiding Jackie’s eyes again. “I’ll admit we have a book on the subject. Anything having to do with angels has made its way to our library at one time or another. But honestly, I can’t remember what I was looking at last time we talked, Detective. The day’s events were quite distracting, and besides,” Valdis drew himself upright, “what does this have to do with your investigation in any case?”
“This,” Jackie pointed at the first sketch, “is a depiction of a birthmark seen on Hunter Friskin.”
Valdis responded almost before Jackie was finished speaking. “Interesting.”
“Yeah. It’s
interesting
that a homicide matching the same pattern as one across town happens to occur outside your building, and the prime suspects
happens
to have a birthmark that matches the style and design of
glyphs described as the ‘Celestial alphabet.’ Glyphs you happen to be studying.”
Valdis shrugged, fidgeting slightly. “Life is full coincidences.”
“Why are you protecting him?” Jackie leaned forward. “Come on, we both know you’ve met Friskin. Be straight with me and I can help you out. I have a…” Jackie paused. “I have a soft-spot for priests.”
“I’m afraid I have nothing new to tell you, Detective. I’ve never met this man…what was his name again? I’m sorry, the past couple days have really done a number—”
Jackie took back the papers, stood, and shook Valdis’ hand before the priest could finish his sentence. “Thank you for your time, Father. If you think of anything else you have my number.” Valdis nodded, eyes still failing to meet Jackie’s as she looked down at him one last time. Then she turned and exited the room.
Man of God my ass,
Jackie thought as she walked back down the stone corridor to the cathedral’s nave.
Couldn’t even give me a half decent lie. If this was my case I’d haul his ass in, priest or not.