“Any kid or kids in particular?” Peabody wondered.
“Oh, over the years, any number. It depends, you know, on what a child needs from us-needed from him.”
“Are you from this area?” Eve asked her.
“I went to college here, and stayed. I knew it was exactly where I wanted to be.”
“How about Marc?”
“He moved here with his family when he was a teenager. Actually, his sister is married to one of the Ortiz cousins. She was at the funeral yesterday when… She’s the one who came down to tell us.”
“Do you know anyone who had trouble with Flores? Who disliked him? Argued with him?”
“There are lots of degrees in that. Certainly there were times Miguel had to sit on a kid. Or a parent, for that matter. Arguments happen during sports. But if you mean something serious, something that could have lead to this, I have to say no. Except…”
“Except.”
“There was Barbara Solas-she’s fifteen. She came in one day a few months ago with her face bruised. To condense, her father often hit her mother, and-we learned-had sexually molested Barbara.”
On her lap, Magda’s hands balled into fists. “She resisted, and he beat her. And the day she came to us, she said she’d gone at him. Lost it, and gone at him. He’d beaten her and tossed her out. So she came to us for help, finally came to us, told us what was happening at home. We helped. We notified the authorities, the police, child protection.”
“This Solas blamed Flores?”
“I’m sure he did, and us. Barbara told us, and it was confirmed later, that her father had started on her little sister. Her twelve-year-old sister-and that’s when Barbara went at him. I convinced the mother to go to a shelter, to take Barbara and her other children. But before I went to see her, before the police came and arrested Solas, Marc and Miguel went to see Solas on their own.”
“They confronted him?”
“Yes. It’s not policy, not the way we’re supposed to handle something like this, but Miguel… We couldn’t stop him, so Marc went with him. I know things got heated, though neither Marc nor Miguel would give me the details. I know they got heated because Miguel’s knuckles were torn and bloody.”
“How long ago was this?”
“In February.”
“Did they attend church?”
“Mrs. Solas, and some of the children. Not him, not Solas.”
“And now? Are they still in the area?”
“Yes. They stayed at the shelter about a month, then we-Marc, Miguel, and I-were able to help her get a new place, and another job. Lieutenant, she wouldn’t have hurt Miguel. She’s grateful.”
“All the same, I need an address.”
As Peabody noted down the address Magda gave them, Eve tried another tack. “You said you knew this was where you wanted to be. Would you say Flores seemed as at home here, as quickly?”
“I’d have to say yes. Of course, I didn’t know him before, but it struck me he’d found his place.” She smiled then, obviously comforted by the idea. “Yes, very much so. He loved the neighborhood. He often took walks or jogged around here. He and Father Martin-Father Freeman-jogged most mornings. Miguel routinely stopped into shops, restaurants, just to chat.”
“He ever put a move on you?”
“What?” Once again, Magda clutched at her cross.
“You’re a very attractive woman, and you worked together closely.”
“He was a priest.”
“He was a man first.”
“No, he did not make a move on me.”
Eve angled her head. “But?”
“I didn’t say ‘but.’ ”
“You thought it. Magda, he’s dead. Anything you tell me may help us find the who, and the why. I’m not asking to get my rocks off.”
Magda heaved out a breath. “Maybe I felt there was something, that he might have thought about it, or wondered. It feels wrong to say this.”
“You got the vibe,” Eve prompted.
“Yes, all right, I got the vibe. He might have looked at me now and then more like a man does, who’s interested, than a priest should. But that’s all. He never suggested, or touched me inappropriately. Ever.”
“Could there have been someone else?”
“I never got that impression.”
“Okay. Other than you and Marc, who did he spend time with?”
“Fathers López and Freeman, of course. Father Freeman especially. They were both into sports-playing and watching-and Father Freeman often helps us out here, too. And he, Miguel, made time for the kids, for his parishioners, even just people in the neighborhood. He was outgoing.”
5
EVE AND PEABODY WENT BACK TO THE CHURCH.
“Are you thinking the Solas woman changed her mind about being grateful?” Peabody wondered.
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Poison skews female. She went to church here, would’ve known the setup, or could have found out. She’s not on the list for the funeral, but it wouldn’t have been hard to get in and out. Not my favorite theory, but we’ll check it out.”
“Solas himself could have arranged for it. Maybe we should check his communication from prison.”
“We’ll do that.”
“But you don’t like that theory either.”
“Not top of my hit parade. A guy gets his ass kicked, he wants physical, violent payback. A bigger ass-kicking.” Eve crossed the vestibule and walked into the church proper. She watched the tall man with dark skin genuflect, then turn.
“Good morning,” he said in a rich baritone that echoed theatrically.
He wore black sweats and a short-sleeved sweatshirt. Eve wondered, if she hadn’t studied his ID photo already, if she’d have made him for a priest, the way the kids playing ball had made her for a cop.
She wasn’t entirely sure.
“Father Freeman, I’m Lieutenant Dallas. My partner, Detective Peabody.”
He was compelling in his photo, but more so in person, to Eve’s mind. Tall, muscular, strikingly handsome, with large, liquid brown eyes, and an athletic way of moving. He met them in the center of the aisle, held out a big hand. “It’s a lousy way to meet anyone, Lieutenant. Detective. Chale-Father López-said you’d probably come by to talk to me. Would you like to go to the rectory?”
“Here’s fine, unless you’re expecting some business.”
He smiled, went from handsome to hot. “Things are usually quiet in here this time of morning. I thought I’d go for a run after early Mass, but I… I didn’t have it in me. I ended up coming here. A little alone time to think about Miguel, to say a few prayers.”
“You used to run with him in the mornings.”
“Yes. Most days we’d take a run together, around the neighborhood. I guess that’s why I came here, instead of taking our loop. It just…”
“Yeah. You were close.”
“We were. We hit it off, enjoyed debating, long discussions-about everything under the sun. Church law, politics, why the Yankees traded Alf Nader.”
“Yeah.” Eve jabbed a finger at Freeman. “What were they smoking?”
“Idiot weed, if you ask me, but Miguel thought it was the right move. We argued that one for hours the night before I left for Chicago.”
It struck him, showed on his face, that he remem-bered it was the last he’d seen or spoken to Flores. “We watched the Yankee game on-screen in the parlor, the three of us. Chale went up during the seventh-inning stretch. But Miguel and I sat and watched, argued the trade and the calls, everything else, and killed six brews.”
“You can do that? Drink brew.”