The color drained from Father Callahan's face, and he swallowed hard. "Yes. I was aware. I didn’t want to say anything, but since you know. She came to me for guidance. I’ve counseled many young women in challenging situations. Of course, I encouraged her to keep the child. Motherhood is a blessing from God." He paused. "If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, I need to prepare for the next sermon." He flicked the cigarette to the ground and stomped it out with the sole of his shoe.
"Not so fast. We know about your scandal in Garden Grove.”
"Nothing more than false accusations. I was cleared of any wrongdoing after a full investigation by the local police.”
I pulled a pair of nitrile gloves from my pocket and snapped them on, then picked up the cigarette from the ground.
Father Callahan's face wrinkled with confusion. "What are you doing?"
"Littering may not be a sin, but it really pisses me off. You realize we’re going to match the DNA from this cigarette to the fetus. You’ll be charged with sexual battery of a minor.”
His eyes rounded, and his whole body stiffened. I didn't think his skin could grow any paler, but it did.
I continued, "You had some of your gangbanger friends do a drive-by. I'm not sure what you offered them in exchange, but you're going away for a long time."
"You don't have a warrant for that cigarette,” he said with panic trembling his voice.
"Don't need one. You discarded it as trash. It's fair game.” I smiled. "Pleasure chatting with you."
The whole thing was a bluff. There were no fetal cells to recover.
Father Callahan's emotions got the best of him. Fear and panic took hold. He lunged for the cigarette butt, trying to grab it from my hand.
We scuffled, and that scuffle ended up with Callahan on the ground, his face against the concrete. I pinned him down and slapped the cuffs around his wrists.
"You're under arrest for assaulting an officer. You have the right to remain silent…"
I yanked him to his feet, and Jack called for a squad car. We escorted Callahan to the parking lot and stuffed him into the back of the patrol unit when it arrived. He was facing obstruction charges along with the assault, and possibly a tampering with evidence charge.
We hopped into the Porsche and followed the patrol unit down to the station. We filled out reports and let Callahan stew in the interrogation room for a little over an hour. It was enough to drive anyone mad. He was in tears by the time we entered the room and took a seat across the table from him.
"My life is ruined," he said.
I didn't have much sympathy for him. "Think about Ivy’s life.”
He tried to steady himself. In a low, calm voice, he said, "I have failed miserably. I am so disappointed in myself. I did everything I could to resist, but I succumbed to her charms. She was persistent. She wouldn't take no for an answer. In a moment of weakness, I gave in to her beauty."
"Oh, so it was all her fault," I said, disgusted by his lack of accountability.
"No. It was certainly not her fault.” His eyes fell to the table and remained there. “It was my fault for allowing such a situation to develop. We had gotten close. I had a natural attraction for her. She was an angel. I…” He paused. "I deserve whatever punishment is coming for me.” Then he looked up at me. "But I swear to you, as God is my witness, I had no involvement in her death or the deaths of any of the choir group."
I gave him a doubtful look.
“It’s all a little too convenient,” I said.
"There's nothing convenient about any of this," Callahan replied.
“You might as well confess to everything,” I said. “You’re not getting out of jail anytime soon. I can assure you of that."
Callahan grimaced and hung his head. We had nothing on him until he confessed. That sealed his fate. I was hoping to get a little more out of him.
"I did not, I would not, and I could not commit such a heinous act as murder," Callahan said.
I watched his face for ticks or micro-expressions.
At this point, he was so nervous it was hard to tell.
After we finished the interview, we left the station and met the guys at the rehearsal studio for practice. Wild Fury banged out the hits, then Jack took the gang to dinner at the Five Fathoms. Afterward, we headed to Oyster Avenue and raised a decent amount of hell.
