Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [128]
“Ah,” Max said, nodding. “So that’s how the accomplice was chosen. Opportunity. How fitting.”
“Do you think it’s possible Don Michael killed his father?” I asked.
“Of course, it’s possible,” Lucky said. “And you can bet it’s occurred to Gabriel. But he’s never found no evidence, no motive, nothing to convince him.”
“How do you know?” I asked.
“Because if Gabriel thought he knew who done it, would he bother doin’ all this?”
“Good point,” I said.
“And even if Don Michael didn’t do it,” Max said, “then he and his organization must nonetheless suffer for failing to protect his employee and prevent the murder.”
“And also for failing to find out who did it and punish him,” I said.
“Hey, you know something?” Lucky said, looking pleased. “You two are finally startin’ to understand how Our Thing works.”
I would have preferred to search the big old echoing shadowy interior of St. Monica’s during broad daylight and with lots of people around. Going there at midnight to confront Evil wasn’t my favorite possible plan.
However, if Father Gabriel suspected we were getting close to the truth, he would be escalating his activities. So we couldn’t wait until daylight. There might well be another victim by then—perhaps several. We had to find and destroy his workshop or altar now.
Since the church was where he acquired most of his tokens, as well as where he spent most of his time, we decided to start our search there. With our painted faces and our massive dog, we had trouble hailing a cab—go figure—so we wound up walking to St. Monica’s. By the time we got to our destination, Lucky was complaining that his feet hurt.
The main entrance to the church was locked when we arrived. This didn’t surprise us, and Lucky and Max were both adept at entering locked buildings—albeit via drastically different means—so we were able to open the door within moments.
Inside, the church was pitch black.
“Stay here, I’ll hit a light,” Lucky said.
A few moments later, I heard the click of a nearby switch, but the church remained cloaked in darkness.
“It’s not working,” Lucky said quietly. “Do you think the priest cut the power?”
“Maybe. Or maybe that switch is one of the gazillion things here that needs fixing.” I now remembered that the women’s auxiliary report had mentioned faulty electrical wiring in the sanctuary. I wished I had thought to bring a flashlight. “We’ll have trouble confronting Evil if we can’t even see it.”
“There are candles here,” Max said. “Let’s make our way to some of those.”
“I ain’t got matches,” Lucky said.
“Not to worry. I can generate an incendiary effect, but it’s momentary and volatile. Ergo, the stabilizing medium of physical substance is exigent.”
“He needs something to burn,” I said to Lucky.
“Oh, okay. Here, take my hand, kid.” A moment later, he said, “That ain’t my hand.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I can’t see anything.”
After I found Lucky’s hand with mine, I stretched out my other one. “Max?”
I felt the clasp of Max’s fingers, and then the three of us made our way gingerly down the left aisle, followed by Nelli. We shuffled toward the altar of St. Monica and the candles we hoped to find there. After we had gone perhaps thirty feet, Nelli started growling.
The stained glass windows allowed a faint amount of light to stream in from the streetlamps, and as my eyes adjusted, I could start to make out general shapes in the dark. So when something man-shaped rose from one of the church pews, I screamed.
This startled Max, who stumbled. Still holding my hand, he inadvertently yanked me with him. We fell together into the well of one of the old church pews. Lucky had let go of my hand when my fall yanked it out of his grip, and I heard his exclamation as he now saw what I had seen. Nelli was barking and snarling.