C9 Chapter Nine

Cade stepped inside the diner and looked around. Burke, a heavy set man with a close-cropped shock of white hair that always made Cade think of the white apes of Barsoom, waved to him from a seat in the back corner. Cade threaded his way through the other diners and slid into the booth opposite. The two men shook hands.

“Good to see ya, Williams. How are the Feds treating ya these days?”

Shortly after Cade had left the force, Burke had come under the mistaken impression that Cade worked for a super secret arm of the federal government, the NSA or the DIA, something along those lines, and Cade had never disabused him of the notion. It had been helpful to have someone on the inside over the years and right now, Burke was their best chance of getting a line on what was going on.

“Good as can be expected, I guess,” Cade answered, as he signaled the waitress for a cup of coffee. “Thanks for meeting me.”

“No problem.” He waited until the waitress brought Cade’s coffee, refilled Burke’s own, and walked over to take care of another customer at a different table before continuing. “You here about that priest down in Southie?”

“Yeah. Word on the street says it was a burglary gone sideways?”

Burke nodded. “Damnedest thing, too. I mean, the guy was old, right? All the perp had to do was push him out of the way. Instead he grabs a butcher knife from the block in the kitchen and stabs the guy to death.” The detective took a sip of his coffee. “Professional interest?” he asked.

“Nah. Personal. I knew Father Martin from back in the day. Used to see him at church when I was a kid. He came to see me at the Deaconess a few times, during my recovery.”

He knew he didn’t have to explain just what he was recovering from; for a cop who’d known him as long as Burke had, there could be only one incident he was referring to, the assault on Cade and his wife by the Dorchester Demon seven years ago. “Last I’d heard he’d retired.”

Burke nodded. “Retired from the hospital, but not from active ministry. He went back to working as the assistant pastor at St. John the Divine, back where he started all those years ago.” He picked up a dark folder from the seat beside him, looked at it without speaking for a moment, and then seemed to come to a decision. He passed the folder to Cade. “Figured this was what you were calling about, so I brought the file.”

Cade opened the folder and a deep sense of trepidation unfolded in his gut. He hadn’t known Thomas well, but the man had been kind to him in a time when kindness was more precious than life itself and so he’d always had a soft place in his heart for the tough old soldier of Christ. Inside were several 8.5 x 11 full-color photos. The first showed Martin where he had fallen on the floor of rectory kitchen, his blood staining the cracked linoleum and his face turned toward the camera as if his unseeing eyes were staring deep into the lens. The black handle of a carving knife protruded from his back. The second was a closer view of Father Martin’s back, showing several slashes in the fabric of his shirt, evidence of other entrance wounds. Cade counted ten without even trying.

The other photos showed the body from various angles, but didn’t give him anything new.

“Any witnesses?”

Burke shook his head. “The rectory houses two other priests, but both were away at an archdiocesan conference and the housekeeper had the weekend off. She was the one who found him when she came in this morning.”

“How about trace evidence?”

“I’m still waiting for a few tests to come back from forensics, but as of right now we’ve got nothing. The knife, doorknobs, and sink were all wiped clean. Hair and fiber came up empty as well. I’m having the blood splatters typed, hoping we get lucky, but I’m really not counting on it. Whoever the guy was, he played it cool and seems to have gotten away without leaving anything behind.”

Cade knew there was more to it than that, but he couldn’t say so to Burke. If Bishop were involved, as Cade suspected, things might just get a lot uglier.

“That just sucks. What did the thief make off with? A couple of gold-plated chalices and the money from the poor box?”

“Not even. Idiot dropped his sack when he turned to run. Damned shame is what it is.”

They spent another fifteen minutes sharing war stories and catching up on guys they knew. When they ran out of things to talk about, Cade thanked Burke for coming down and paid the bill.

As Burke got up to go, Cade reached out and grabbed his arm.

“Where did they take Martin’s body?”

“The County Morgue was full so they’ve got him over at the Annex, in the basement of Mass General. Gonna go pay your respects?”

Cade glanced away.

“Yeah.” Something like that.