Our Lady of Sorrow High School
Omaha, Nebraska

Nick Morrelli slammed the door of the rented Oldsmobile, taking out his anger on the car when he really wanted to smack some sense into Tony. It was bad enough that he and Jill had to stay at separate places while they were in town. She had to stay at her mother’s while he stayed at Christine’s. It was ridiculous. They were adults, not a couple of teenagers. What made it worse was that’s how Jill liked it. She seemed to prefer spending time with her mother and her girlfriends, which Nick couldn’t really complain about. He was secretly grateful that they hadn’t included him in dress shopping and cake tasting. But their first full week of vacation together that was supposed to include some wedding planning had turned into mega-planning with little vacation.

Then the one night they managed to have together—this after cooking up the lame excuse that they needed to check out the downtown Embassy Suites for their out-of-town wedding guests—even that ended up being interrupted. It was getting a little frustrating, to say the least.

This morning when he rolled over to answer his cell phone while in that nice warm, king-size bed with Jill curved up next to him only to hear Tony’s frantic voice, he wanted to tell his old buddy to screw off. He wanted to remind him that he had warned him this would happen. What did he expect? He couldn’t just fuck around with police detectives even if he did supposedly have God on his side.

But instead, he had agreed to meet Tony at the school in an hour, instructing him to tell the detectives to do the same while he half crawled, half fell out of the comfy hotel bed.

“Tell them that unless they have a warrant for your arrest, you shouldn’t need to go down to the police station,” Nick had told Tony. “They want to talk to you, then they can come to you.”

He hadn’t realized he was yelling until Jill had rolled over and thrown a pillow at him. At the time it didn’t stop him. He had simply readjusted his cell phone between his chin and shoulder while he put on his other shoe.

Damn it!

He wished he had time to stop at Christine’s and change into something other than blue jeans and Nikes. But it was more important that he get there early, beat the cops in case he still had to drill it into Tony’s thick skull that he was skating on thin ice. Whatever it was Tony thought he knew and thought he had an obligation to hide, it wasn’t worth being hassled by the cops. Not cops looking for a murder suspect.

“Tell them that you can’t be leaving the school,” Nick had continued, “especially now that the summer session has begun. You can’t be running downtown whenever they have another question they forgot to ask. Tell them to come to you. Tell them if they want to ask you any more questions we’ll meet at your office…in an hour.”

Now as he walked up the sidewalk to Our Lady of Sorrow High School, he wondered what other questions they could possibly have for Tony. He found him alone in his second-floor office. Thank goodness. This morning Tony wore his black trousers, black shirt and white priest collar.

“Excellent,” Nick told his friend, pointing to the collar. “Anything to remind them they’re fucking around with a man of the cloth. Jesus! Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Curse in front of a man of the cloth and then take the son of God’s name in vain?” But Tony was smiling as he said it.

“What did they say about meeting here?”

“No problem. In fact, Detective Pakula said while they’re here they’d like to take a look at Monsignor O’Sullivan’s office. Did you see the morning news?”

“No. You woke me up. Last night Jill and I—” He stopped himself. There were some things he wouldn’t share with his friend, priest or no priest. “No, I haven’t seen the news for a couple of days.”

“A priest was killed on Saturday night in Columbia, Missouri. The OPD’s called in an FBI specialist. Sounds like they think both murders might be connected.”

“You’re kidding,” Nick said, dropping into the old easy chair Tony kept in the corner. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or not. If this was a serial killer, why did they still want to question Tony?

As if he could read Nick’s mind, Tony shrugged. “So, see, they can’t possibly suspect me. How could I have gotten to Columbia, Missouri on Saturday night? It’s, like, a five-hour drive.”

“Of course they don’t think you’re a suspect,” Nick said while wondering how Tony just happened to know how long the drive was. “So, Monsignor O’Sullivan wasn’t some random murder in an airport bathroom.”

“Guess not,” Tony said, standing by the window, watching for the cops.

“I have to ask you something.” Nick waited for him to look his way. “Remember I told you yesterday that Christine said there’ve been allegations about Monsignor O’Sullivan? I know I told you that I understood if something was going on that you probably couldn’t talk about it, but under the circumstances it really would help if you tell me what the hell you know. Had anyone accused the monsignor of…you know, acting inappropriately with any of the students?”

Tony glanced out the window. “I honestly don’t know, Nick. I’ve been hearing some of the same stuff Christine has been hearing. Something’s going on, but I’m the last person they’d let in on any of it.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I told them I wouldn’t keep quiet this time.”

“You told Archbishop Armstrong that?”

“I told Monsignor O’Sullivan,” Tony said without emotion. “I’m sure O’Sullivan told the archbishop.”

Nick could tell there was more to that story, but he was glad to be getting even an edited version. Still, he decided to push his luck. “Do you think the leather portfolio was stuffed with secret documents?”

This time Tony turned to meet his eyes. “Just between you and me, not Christine, not the cops,” he said and waited for Nick to nod in agreement. “It wouldn’t surprise me. It wouldn’t be the first time. The Vatican has diplomatic immunity. Anything under its roof can’t be used or subpoenaed. Just like anyone under its roof can’t be extradited.”

“Monsignor O’Sullivan wasn’t coming back?”

“No. I confronted him that morning, before he left. He ended up admitting to me that he wouldn’t be returning.”

“Wow!” Nick couldn’t believe it. Christine was right. “So is it possible one of the monsignor’s victims offed him before he could leave?”

“Or someone wanted to put an end to the whole matter once and for all.”

“Wait a minute. What do you mean by that?”

But it was too late. Tony was looking out the window again.

“They’re here,” he said, and Nick thought he actually sounded relieved.