Doppelgangster - Laura Resnick [65]
I tried to think of the simplest way to explain it. “I saw an apparition of Johnny Be Good down there.”
Her gaze sharpened. “Why would Johnny haunt the crypt of St. Monica’s?”
“When you put it that way, maybe you can understand why I’m afraid to go down there alone.”
“Johnny Gambello was not devout,” the widow said disapprovingly. “Not even mildly faithful. Not to his various wives or his family, and certainly not to God.”
“I hear he prayed whenever he bet big on a longshot,” I offered. “So he must have come here semiregularly from the sound of it.”
“Of all the places he might turn up in the afterlife . . . church?” She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Nonetheless, he was in the crypt yesterday.”
“Since you say you never even met him, what makes you so sure it was Johnny?”
“Lucky was there. He says it was definitely Johnny.”
“So you and Lucky both saw Johnny? After he was dead?”
I nodded. “Which is why I don’t want to go into the crypt alone.”
“Maybe you’re mistaken about the timing,” she said. “What did this apparition look like?”
“Just like Johnny, but—”
“Did he ask Lucky for money?”
“Well, yes.”
“So that explains what Johnny was doing in church,” she said. “Unless he’d bet on another longshot right before dying.”
“But—”
“Obviously, you saw Johnny just before he was murdered.”
“No, he was murdered well before we saw—”
“Father!” Elena looked over my shoulder and her face brightened.
“Elena!” Father Gabriel called across the church. “You’re here late this evening. I missed seeing you at the service today.”
“I was sorry to miss it, Father. So I thought I’d meditate in prayer for a while now. If,” the widow added with an unfriendly glance at me as I turned to face the priest, “I can find a few moments of peace, that is.”
Father Gabriel had entered through a side door. Leaving the dark wooden door ajar behind him, he crossed the floor of the church to the widow. Then he glanced at me and said warmly, “And who is this with you, Elena? A friend? A relative?”
“Neither,” she said. “This is Esther Diamond.”
Still smiling, Father Gabriel frowned a little in confusion. “No, no, I know Esther, and she’s . . . er . . .” His gaze flickered over my cheekbones, up to my hair, then back to my eyes. “Esther?”
“Hello, Father, nice to see you again.”
He recovered from the shock of my appearance with admirable speed and grace. “And a great pleasure to see you here again, too. I talked to Lucky today, so I was expecting you, of course. I just didn’t quite recognize . . . Well, you look very pretty. Again.”
I beamed at him. “Thank you, Father.”
“If Lucky’s coming,” grumbled the widow, “he can go into the crypt with you.”
“Yes, that’s what Lucky said,” Father Gabriel said.
“Huh?” I said.
“I’ve set up some chairs, a table, and some refreshments in the crypt for you, as per Lucky’s instructions,” the priest said cheerfully.
“We’re meeting in the crypt? Again?”
The widow gave me another sharp look. “I thought you said Lucky was like an uncle to you.”
“He is. Do you really imagine,” I said in annoyance, “that I would choose the crypt of a church for my amorous encounters?”
“I thought Lucky chose the place,” she retorted.
“We’re conducting business down there,” I said. “Regarding these murders.”
She lifted her brows. “Indeed?”
Father Gabriel said, “And I’m so pleased you and Lucky chose St. Monica’s for this meeting. A house of God is certainly the right place to take the first step toward ending this new round of violence and renewing our bonds with each other as brothers and sisters in Christ our Lord.” He did a little double take when he looked at me and remembered I wasn’t a Christian. “And also certainly the loving bonds of, er, Moses, Abraham, Yahweh . . . Yes, indeed. All very good people, too.”
“Whatever,” I said. “The point is, there’s something Evil going on here, and we need to put a stop to it before anyone else winds up dead.”
“The men who have been killed,” the widow said, her voice bitter, “men like Johnny and Charlie. Why do you care? Do you know how much misery they caused in