The Priest (The Original Sinners #9) - Tiffany Reisz Page 0,1
An elderly couple sat in rockers on their porch across the street, watching with interest. A pretty brown girl of about eleven or twelve walked slowly past the yard, clearly trying not to linger but also curious about the fuss. A pair of fairy wings on her back glittered in the early morning light.
He and Katherine waited in silence for the girl to pass. This was no place for children to be playing. Not now, maybe not ever. Once she turned the corner, Cyrus spoke.
“Talk.”
Katherine took a deep breath and leaned back against the fence. He stood opposite her, a small fire pit full of ashes between their feet.
“Thanks for taking my call,” she said.
“Call, yeah. Case? Not yet.”
“Look, I get it. You don’t want to work with us, and I don’t blame you. But hear me out. Please.”
No, Cyrus did not want to work with the police. Two years ago, he’d been shot on the job by a fellow officer who had a file overflowing with excessive force complaints. Luckily, Cyrus had a good lawyer who’d wrangled a very nice settlement from the city. Nice enough, he didn’t have to take any case he didn’t want to take.
“I’m not comfortable with this,” he said. “Working with you? For you? Investigating someone I knew personally? Ike and Paulina used to work together at Blessed Sacrament. You ever hear the phrase ‘conflict of interest’?”
He so did not want to take this case. Katherine had a way of getting on his nerves—she was white, and acted like that made her something special down here.
She was also the last woman he’d slept with before meeting Paulina.
His life was B.P. and A.P.—Before Paulina and After Paulina. All that was B.P. meant as much to him as the ashes in the fire pit at his feet. But he tried not to hold that against Katherine. Not her fault they met on the wrong side of his salvation.
“Do you know how hard it was for me to ask you for help? You were a real ass to me, and you know it,” she said. Cyrus turned away, didn’t admit it, but he didn’t deny it either. “Doesn’t that tell you how serious I am? Something is wrong here. You’re the only PI in this town I even halfway trust.”
“Thank you very much.”
“You’re good and we both know it. There. Happy?”
“Thrilled. Now please tell me what the hell is going on here. Even if I don’t take the case, whatever you’ve found, you know I’m not going to tell anyone.”
She gave a dry laugh. “It’s not even seven yet, and Archbishop Dunn’s already making phone calls. He says everyone knew Isaac Murran suffered from depression. That’s all. Open and shut and lock it up. We are not allowed to investigate this, I’ve been told. And when someone tells me not to investigate…”
“Catholic Church trying to cover up something embarrassing? This is my shocked face.”
“Right,” she said. “That’s why I called you. I need you to dig.”
“Dig for what? What aren’t you telling me?”
“First of all, Sister Margaret swears up and down that Isaac Murran was not depressed. Not now, not ever, from what she could tell. She’s got a degree in counseling, and she’s been pouring his tea for fifteen years. She knows the symptoms of depression, and she knows him. Knew him.”
Cyrus stuck his hands in his suit pockets. He was tired. He’d been on a stakeout all last night watching the comings and goings of a man who was going places he shouldn’t be going and coming with people he didn’t need to be coming with.
“Look, I’m sorry,” Katherine said. “I wish I knew someone else to call. I was here for ten minutes before Captain Latour was telling me to drop it. I shouldn’t even be back here now. I’m going to get hell for it.”
Katherine had been in a turf war with the Catholic Church for years. She’d been sent to investigate a robbery at a church, and the priest had demanded a male officer instead. He’d said police work was too dangerous for women, especially for a woman who dressed so “provocatively.”
“Sometimes people kill themselves and we never figure out why,” Cyrus said.
“I might know why.”
He raised an eyebrow. Now she’d gotten him curious.
Katherine reached into her blouse and pulled something out of her bra. She held it out to him, and he reluctantly took it. A business card in a plastic evidence bag.
“You didn’t get this from me,” Katherine said. “You