Coldwater Revenge by James Ross (e novels to read online TXT) 📗

easily be fired. The sin of disobedience is hard for such men to resist.”

The nun looked at Marchetti with neutral expression. “Is that what you wish me to address with Père Gauss? Disobedience?”

“No. I need you to determine whether our brother in Christ is guilty of more serious sin.”

Sœur Dion folded her hands on top of her bare metal desk. “I have read the dossier. It is disturbing. But the record of Père Gauss’ session with your attorney reveals a man who acquits himself well. Does it not?”

“That’s part of the problem, Sister. Your patient has a quick mind and a sharp tongue. But this isn’t a debate in one of his seminary philosophy classes. If Father Gauss has broken vows other than humility and obedience, His Eminence is determined to take action. His legal advisers say that would be difficult based only the letters and other materials you’ve seen. None of Gauss’ accusers have come forward in person, much less testified under oath.”

Sœur Dion opened her folded hands. “How do you wish me to proceed?”

I want you to wring his head like a sponge and bring me what’s in there.

Marchetti recalled the Bishop’s warning that if he appeared to favor a specific outcome, the Sisters of San Gabriel were sure to provide the opposite. He paused to formulate an appropriately diplomatic instruction. A soft knock on the door came while he was struggling to find one.

“Entrez!”

A tall, black robed nun entered and exchanged brief words with Sœur Dion. Marchetti understood only one of them, but that was enough. Gauss.

“Trouble already?”

Sœur Dion dismissed her colleague and shut the door. “You asked to be informed if anyone tried to contact Père Gauss while he is with us. A Monsieur Morgan has called twice in the last few minutes.”

“The policeman?”

“Sœur Gabriel did not convey an occupation.”

“How did he get this number?”

“From Père Gauss, it would appear.”

“Was he told that Father Gauss is not here?”

“A lie?” Sœur Dion’s voice was firm.

“To protect your patient’s privacy.”

“The caller mentioned hearing Père Gauss’s voice on the telephone answering machine in his room when his earlier call was transferred there.”

“You’ve given Father Gauss a telephone?” Marchetti struggled to keep his voice from skipping octaves.

Sœur Dion lifted her chin. “This is a retreat house, Monsignor. It is not a prison. All of our rooms have phones… unless we have been instructed otherwise.”

“Please remove it. Father Gauss is here for prayer and reflection. He should not be distracted by calls or visitors.”

“As you wish, Monsignor.”

Marchetti tried to keep the impatience out of his voice. “Have you made progress?”

“No.”

“Have you gone through the file with him?”

“Père Gauss has declined.”

“The man is in no position to decline!” Marchetti heard his voice grow louder, and he throttled it back. “Does he understand that?”

Sœur Dion spread pale, long-fingered hands. “Père Gauss informed me that he had already gone through the file with the diocese’s lawyer. He said that he does not feel the need to repeat the exercise with a ‘shrink’.”

“I see.” Marchetti began to pace. “Did he say anything about the latest letter? I’d at least like to hear what he has to say about that before the lawyers see it.”

“The one from the boy who drowned?”

“Hardly a boy, but yes. Did he have a reaction?”

“Nothing overt. I showed it to him during our session this morning. He read it and then asked to go to chapel. He’s been there most of the day.”

“His Eminence is particularly interested in Father Gauss’s reaction to that letter. It would be helpful if you could get him to share his thoughts, Sister.”

“I will try, Monsignor.” She looked calmly at the bishop’s representative. “Does His Eminence wish to know… everything?”

Marchetti was firm. “He desires that I do.” The Bishop’s parting instruction had been clear. “Find out the truth, Monsignor. Then consider the needs of the Church.”

* * *

Tom had intended to brief Joe on his visit to the U-lab address that turned out to be a storefront grocery that did no business, as well as his meetings with Hassad and the mourner at Billy’s funeral. But he found Joe in no shape to absorb a briefing. The young candy striper asked Tom to steady the metal basin while she went to find a doctor. “There’s blood,” she added, inclining her head toward the contents of the pan.

After a few sanguinary heaves, Joe collapsed into the pillows, gulping air. “What did you find?” he croaked.

“It can wait.”

Joe’s face was ashen and his eyes glazed and unfocused. “All right. But I want to find that priest of yours next.”

And my lawyer wants me to get my ass back to New York to save it. “You think Father Gauss had something to do with this?”

“They’re hiding him,” Joe wheezed. “And he likes to take boys for boat rides.”

“What do you mean ‘hiding’ him?”

Joe waved toward the pile of papers beside his bed. “I got through to a Monsignor Marchetti after you left. He seems to be the gatekeeper for Gauss’s bishop. The party line is that your friend Gauss is ‘on retreat.’”

An unfortunate choice of words. “Did he say where?”

“He wouldn’t,” Joe wheezed. “When I pressed, he coughed up the number of a lawyer named Dolan.”

“It sounds like Monsignor Marchetti was expecting your call. Or somebody’s.”

Joe attempted to shrug, but his shoulders remained flat on the pillow. “If I have to, I’ll get a warrant. But I’m betting you can find your buddy quicker.”

“Maybe,” said Tom. “He left me his phone number. I’ve left him a few messages. I think he’s at St. Gabriel’s.”

“That clinic the nuns run on the other side of the lake?”

“The number he gave me is one of theirs. The voicemail tape is him. That doesn’t mean he’s there now, but I suppose I could have a look.”

“They’re not going to let you in the front door, Tommy.”

“Do you know another way?”

“Not that you could use. Do you think Gauss left you his number because he wanted to get something off his chest?”

“It’s always been