Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [39]
Howard looked at Morrelli, then back at Maggie when he realized neither was willing to say more.
“I think he’s in back changing. He said mass this morning.” He made no effort to leave.
“Would you mind getting him for us, Ray?” Morrelli asked much more politely than Maggie would have.
“Oh, sure.” He turned to leave, then stopped. “Who should I say wants to see him?” He looked at Maggie, waiting for an introduction.
Maggie sighed and shifted her weight impatiently. Morrelli shot her a look, then said, “Just tell him Nick Morrelli, okay?”
“Oh, sure.”
Howard disappeared behind the curtain. This time Maggie rolled her eyes at Morrelli, and he smiled. “A quarterback, huh?” she said.
“That was a long time ago. Actually, it seems like a lifetime ago.”
“Were you any good?”
“I had a chance to go on and play for the Dolphins, but my dad insisted on law school.”
“Do you always do everything your dad tells you to do?”
She meant it as a joke, but he bristled, and his eyes told her it was a touchy subject. Then he smiled, and said, “Apparently, I do.”
“Nicholas.” A small gray-haired priest glided onto the altar in his black, floor-length cassock. “Mr. Howard said you had official business to talk to me about.”
“Hello, Father Francis. Sorry I didn’t call before we dropped in on you.”
“That’s perfectly all right. You’re always welcome here.”
“Father, this is Special Agent Maggie O’Dell. She’s with the FBI and is here to help me on the Alverez case.”
Maggie offered her hand. The old priest took it in both of his and held it tightly. Thick blue veins protruded from the thin, brown-spotted skin. A slight tremor jiggled her hand. He looked deep into her eyes, and suddenly she felt exposed, as though he could see clear into her soul. A slight shiver slid down her back as she held his gaze.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” When he let go, he grasped the nearby podium, depending on it for strength. “Christine’s son, Timmy, reminds me of you, Nicholas. He’s one of Father Keller’s altar boys.” Then to Maggie, he said, “Nicholas was an altar boy for me years ago at the old St. Margaret’s.”
“Really?” Maggie glanced at Morrelli, anxious to witness his discomfort. Something behind him caught her eye. The altar curtain moved. There was no breeze, no draft. Then she saw the toes of two white tennis shoes poking out from underneath. Instead of drawing attention to the intruder, she smiled at Morrelli, who now seemed flustered by the priest’s attention.
“Father Francis.” He was anxious to change the subject. “We wondered if you could answer a few questions.”
“Certainly. What can I do to help?” He looked at Maggie.
“I understand you heard Ronald Jeffreys’ last confession,” Nick continued.
“Yes, but I cannot share any of that with you. I hope you understand.” His voice was suddenly frail, as though the subject drained the energy from him.
Maggie wondered whether he was sick, something terminal that would explain the gray pallor to his skin. Even his breathing came in thick, short gasps when he talked. When he was silent, a soft wheeze lifted his bony shoulders in an odd rhythm.
“Of course, we understand,” she lied. The fact was, she didn’t understand, but she prevented the impatience from creeping into her tone. “However, if there is anything that would shed light on the Alverez case, I would hope you’d share it with us.”
“O’Dell, that’s Irish Catholic, yes?”
Maggie was startled and annoyed by his distraction. “Yes, it is.” Now she allowed a bit of the impatience to slip out. He didn’t seem to notice.
“And Maggie, named for our very own St. Margaret.”
“Yes, I suppose so. Father Francis, you do understand that if Ronald Jeffreys confessed anything that would lead us to Danny Alverez’s murderer, you must tell us?”
“The sanctity of confession is to be preserved even for condemned murderers, Agent O’Dell.”
Maggie sighed and glanced back at Morrelli, who also looked as though he was becoming impatient with the old priest.
“Father,” Morrelli said. “There’s something else you might be able