Part 8 (2/2)
”So we can't go get coffee?” I asked in disappointment.
”No. We gotta do this where I'm sure we ain't being bugged.”
”But a random coffee shop wouldn't be-”
”You never know,” he said.
”What about the widow?” I asked.
”Keep your voice down and she won't hear nothing.”
”And what about the priest?” I said, as one emerged from a side door and came toward us.
Lucky looked over his shoulder. ”Oh, good morning, Father Gabriel.”
The priest smiled. ”h.e.l.lo, Lucky!”
Ah, so this this was Father Gabriel, I thought, recalling that Charlie had mentioned his name when I suggested going to St. Monica's. was Father Gabriel, I thought, recalling that Charlie had mentioned his name when I suggested going to St. Monica's.
The priest was about thirty and very attractive. He had dark hair, soulful brown eyes, a sensitive face, a nice build, and a warm, friendly manner that was instantly apparent.
He said to Lucky, ”We don't usually see you here so early on a Sunday. Everything all right?”
”Just getting my wors.h.i.+pping in early today, Father.”
The priest glanced at me, still smiling, and said to Lucky, ”I see you brought . . . a friend? A relation?”
”Uh, yeah,” Lucky said. ”My niece.”
”Esther Diamond,” I said.
”My Jewish niece,” Lucky added. ”On my sister's side. We don't really talk about it.”
”Welcome, Esther,” Father Gabriel said without missing a beat. ”We're happy to have you here today.”
”Thanks.” I smiled back. ”What time is the service?”
”Not for another half hour,” Father Gabriel said.
”I'm looking forward to it,” I said.
”Lucky can show you around the church while I prepare,” the priest replied. ”If you'll excuse me?”
”Of course.” I smiled at him again. He was a hunk, this priest.
He went up to the altar to get something, then exited the church through the same side door he had used to enter. Going back to his study, I supposed, or whatever kind of room priests used to get ready for Ma.s.s. Vestry? Crypt? Dressing room?
Maybe I'd ask the Catholic guy I was dating.
If he was still dating me, me, that was. that was.
”Flirting with a priest,” Lucky muttered. ”You ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
”I wasn't flirting,” I said.
”Oh, then what was that great big smile you gave him?”
”Well, maybe I was flirting a little, little,” I admitted. ”That's one cute priest.”
Lucky looked shocked. ”There'll be none of that here, young lady. Besides, ain't you got a boyfriend? A possessive one, as I recall?”
”Do I?” I wondered morosely. ”I hope so.”
”Well, he ain't gonna like hearing you flirted with a priest,” Lucky warned.
”Then he'd better not not hear it,” I replied. hear it,” I replied.
”Hmph. Come on. Let's sit down. We're wasting time.”
Lucky walked me to the center aisle of the church, genuflected next to a pew that was about five rows from the front, and gestured for me to take a seat.
Then he sat down next to me and said in a low voice, ”The word from the top is, we can't have someone feeling free to whack a made guy without permission or warning. Especially not a good earner like Charlie.”
”So Charlie was telling the truth about being a good earner?” I mused.
I chose not to dwell on whether Charlie had also been telling the truth about being great in bed. It seemed too improbable, and the images invoked by such pondering wouldn't be good for my mental health.
”So I gotta find who hit Charlie, and I gotta whack him,” Lucky said matter-of-factly.
”I don't think we should be talking about whacking in church,” I said uneasily.
”What do you care? You ain't even Catholic.”
”Even so, it doesn't seem appropriate.”
”Hey, this is the place where we confess our sins,” Lucky said. ”So we might as well plan 'em here, too.”
”There's a certain warped logic to that,” I admitted. ”But I don't want to be involved in planning a retaliatory homicide.”
”Huh?”
”Er, I don't want to help you whack someone.”
”You think I'd take a girl along on business?” Lucky said dismissively. ”You're just gonna help me figure out who done it, so I can make sure he don't do it again.”
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