"Hey, thanks, Jack. You oughta stick around so I can buy you one."
"Some other time. Barn. Gotta go to church."
3
Jack found St. Joseph's church on a Lower East Side street, mid block between rows of sagging tenements. He took an immediate liking to the old Gothic, granite-block building with her twin crocketed spires and large rose window. Could have done with a good power washing though. A convent sat to her left, the smaller rectory to the right.
Jack knocked on the rectory door. A thin elderly woman in a smudged apron answered. When he asked to see Father Ed she tried to tell him that he didn't have any appointments till the afternoon. Refusing to be put off he said to tell the good father that Jack-just Jack-was here.
That did the trick.
Father Edward Halloran-the Edward who'd hired Jack to watch his "brother" Eli-greeted him in his cramped little office with a mixture of warmth and wariness.
"I should have known you'd be finding me," he said as he offered his hand.
Jack shook it, not exactly sure what he was feeling. Looking at Edward in his Roman collar and hearing that thick brogue, he felt as if he'd walked onto the set of Going My Way. Any moment now Bing Crosby would waltz through the door. Still he'd lied to Jack. Big time.
"I thought priests were supposed to tell the truth."
"They are." The little man slipped behind his desk and pointed to a chair for Jack. "And I did."
Jack remained standing. "You told me your last name was Bellitto, Father Halloran."
"Never. Those words never passed me lips."
"You said Eli Bellitto was your brother. Same thing."
Father Ed gave him a cherubic smile. "The Lord says all men are brothers, don't you know."
"Can we cut the word games?" Jack leaned on the desk and stared at the priest. "I'm not here to cause you trouble. I just want to know what this was all about. How did you know Eli Bellitto was going to snatch a kid?"
Father Ed glanced past Jack, as if to make sure the door was closed, then sighed. He swiveled in his seat and stared off to his left.
"He told me."
"Why? Did you know him?"
The priest's head snapped around. " 'Did'?"
"Let's not get into that. Why did he tell you?"
"I don't know. Last Saturday I was hearing confessions next door when this man enters the booth and starts telling me he has killed hundreds of children and wants absolution."
"You believed him?"
The priest shrugged. "One is after hearing many strange things in the confessional. I took him on his word and told him to receive absolution he must be turning himself in to the authorities. He laughed and said he couldn't do that. In fact, he was going to kill another child in the following week under the dark of the moon. And then he left."
"How did you know he was Eli Bellitto?"
"I followed him," he said, looking a little ashamed. "I didn't know if he was deluded or telling the truth. Either way he was certainly daft. I left the confessional, removed my collar, and trailed him to his store. It wasn't far. But as I stood outside his shop I thought of a third possibility: perhaps he was after having some grudge against the church and trying to see if he could make a priest compromise the holy privilege of the Sacrament of Confession. I needed a way of protecting the Church and protecting any child he might harm. I thought of you."
"Me? How does a priest even know about me?"
"One of my parishioners once confessed to me about hiring you."
"Confessed? You mean I'm a sin?" Jack didn't know whether to be offended or pleased. "Who was it?"
"I can't be telling you that, of course."
"Oh, yeah. I guess not."
He decided being a sin was kind of cool.
"Someone was after being hurt as a result of my parishioner hiring you and the lad was afraid he'd sinned. So anyway, I went and bought one of those little disposable cameras and took Mr. Bellitto's picture when he came out. I learned what I could about him-not much, I'm afraid-then called you." Father Ed leaned forward. "Tell me now, would it be true what he said about killing children?"
"It would be," Jack said. "I don't know about the hundreds he told you about, but yeah, more than one. Many more."
Father Ed gasped and crossed himself. "Saints preserve us."
"You hear about that house in Astoria this morning? He was part of that."
"Then I did the right thing. But why was he telling me? Why did he confess?"
"Arrogance, I guess. He kept trophies from his victims on display in his shop. I gather he thought he was some sort of superior being and liked to flaunt it."
"Hubris." The priest shook his head. "Sometimes we can be thankful for it, I suppose." He glanced at Jack. "And where would Mr. Bellitto be now?"
"Gone."
"Gone where?"
"Not sure. Just... gone. And don't worry. He won't be coming back. Ever."
Father Ed took a deep breath. "Like my parishioner, I'm feeling I might have a need to confess. Would that be true?"
Jack shrugged. "Not my call."
"How about you? Would you be needing to confess?"
"I don't think so. I had it on the authority of a good man that I was doing God's work."
EPILOGUE
When Jack arrived at Menelaus Manor two weeks later, Lyle was in the yard watching a landscaper replace the dead foundation plantings. He greeted Jack warmly with a two-handed handshake.
"Jack, how are you? Come on in."
Jack followed him inside to the kitchen where Lyle popped the tops on a couple of Miller Genuine Drafts.
Jack lifted his can. "To Charlie."
He'd died saving Gia's life. Jack would be drinking toasts to him indefinitely.
"Amen to that." After each took a long pull, Lyle said, "How's Gia?"
"Still shaken up, but she's handling it. Having Vicky back has helped a lot."
"And the baby?"
Jack grinned. "Fine."
Gia had had a sonogram two days ago. Too early to tell the sex, but everything was as it should be. What a relief that had been.
But he still hadn't figured out how he was going to become the baby's legal father.
"I'm really glad you could come over, Jack."
"Glad to make it." He meant that. "Would have been by sooner but for all the company you've had."
In the weeks since Charlie's death, the police, using some sort of ground sonar, had recovered eight bodies from the cellar. They were sure they'd found them all. Sweeps of the surrounding grounds had yielded nothing.
Lyle smiled. "Yeah, well, the cops finished up. At last. I've finally got my house back."
"Not that you would've been home much anyway."
During the past week Lyle had been a ubiquitous presence on the tube. Every talk show, from Today and GMA in the morning to Oprah in the afternoon, to the Rose-Leno-Letterman-O'Brien axis at night, had had him on.
"Yeah, I guess I've been doing a bit of traveling, haven't I."
"You're good on the tube." True. Came across as a very personable, likable guy. "You ought to have your own show."
He laughed. "Been offered two already." His smile faded. "But I might have to broadcast from jail if they link me to Adrian Minkin."
Minkin's body had been found the following day when clerks from Bellitto's store came looking for him.
"They won't. We left that place clean."
Lyle shook his head. "What a night. I still can't believe I was there. Did you hear the latest? Eli Bellitto is a possible suspect."
"Speaking of Eli," Jack said. "Where is he?"
"I have no idea. Not a trace of him in the house."