Both boys stared at her, jaws on the toes of their skids, which had been the intention. Nita, however, stared holes through her, with no trace of humor, for an icy moment before turning her back again. “It’s for their parents to deal with.”
“Sure. So…” She turned back to Magda. “I’m looking for Father López.”
“Yes, he’s in the gym. Marc told me he ran into you this morning, that you said you had some leads.”
“We’re working it. Gym?”
“Through that door, straight down to the end of the corridor, turn left.”
“Thanks. And, ah…” She jerked her head toward the boys. “Good luck.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Nita doesn’t like cops,” Eve commented as she headed down the corridor with Peabody.
“Either that or she took you seriously. If I didn’t know you, I’d have taken you seriously.”
“I thought scaring kids out of being little assholes was SOP.”
“Well… It’s a method.”
“Did you see the kid on the right. Little bastard can take a punch.”
And so, Eve noted when they went through the gym doors, could López. What looked like a portable sparring ring stood behind the center court line. A scatter of kids practiced on equipment on the other half, under the supervision of a couple of women in gym shorts. López-red boxing gloves, black face guard, black baggy shorts, and a white tee-sparred with Marc.
And Marc snuck one in.
Other kids grouped around the ring, called out encouragement. The gym rang with voices, the slap of feet, and the whop of padded gloves finding meat.
Both men had worked up a sweat, and despite the age difference appeared evenly matched to the casual onlooker. But Eve saw López was quicker, and carried that innate boxer’s grace.
An out-fighter, she noted, making his opponent come to him.
He weaved, jabbed, danced right, hooked. Disciplined poetry in motion.
Why, exactly, was fighting the answer of the weak and brainless? Eve wondered.
She watched until the timer rang, and both men stepped back. She’d counted two hits for Marc, six for López. And the way Marc bent at the waist to catch his breath told her he was done.
She walked forward. “Nice round.”
Puffing, still bent over, Marc turned his head. “The guy kills me.”
“You drop your right before you jab.”
“So he tells me,” Marc said bitterly. “You want a shot at him?”
Eve glanced up at López. “Wouldn’t mind, but I’ll rain-check. Have you got a few minutes now?” she asked López. “We have some questions.”
“Of course.”
“Outside maybe? We’ll wait for you on the blacktop.”
“He’s built,” Peabody said when they walked out of the gym. “Who knew that under all the priest gear he was Father Seriously Ripped.”
“Keeps in shape. And something’s up. Father Seriously Ripped had his sad eyes on, but there was more. There was dread.”
“Really? I guess I wasn’t looking at his eyes. He could have heard about Lino by now. Word like that starts traveling fast. Since he’s the man in charge, he’s going to have to explain, I guess, why he didn’t realize a man like that was working under him. Everybody needs a fall guy, right? Maybe the church brass is aiming at him.”
Since the blacktop was swarming with kids, Eve stayed at the side of the building. “Why aren’t these people in school?”
“School’s out for the day, Dallas. On the technical end of things, it’s nearly end of shift.”
“Oh. Maybe he’s worried about his career. Do priests have careers? But that wasn’t it. I know the look that says, ‘I don’t want to talk to the cops.’ That’s what he had in his eyes.”
“You think he’s hiding something? He didn’t know Lino-as Lino. He’s only been in the parish for a few months.”
“He’s been a priest a hell of a lot longer.” She thought of what Mira had predicted, and decided not to dance and jab, but to try for the knockout as soon as López came out.
His hair was damp, and the sweat had his T-shirt clinging to his chest. Yeah, Eve mused, he kept in shape.
She didn’t wait a beat. “The victim’s been officially identified as Lino Martinez. You know who killed him. You know,” Eve said, “because whoever did told you.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “What I know was told to me within the sanctity of the confessional.”
“You’re protecting a murderer, and one who is indirectly responsible for a second death in Jimmy Jay Jenkins.”
“I can’t break my vows, Lieutenant. I can’t betray my faith, or the laws of the Church.”
“Render unto Caesar,” Peabody said, and had López shaking his head.
“I can’t give to man’s law with one hand, and take from God’s with the other. Please, can we sit? The benches over there, away from the building. This needs to be very private.”
Resentment bubbling, Eve walked over to where benches, their legs set into concrete, were facing the court. López sat, rested his hands on his knees.
“I’ve prayed on this. I’ve prayed since I heard this confession. I can’t tell you what was told to me. It was told not to me, but to God through me. I received this confession as a minister to God.”
“I’ll take the hearsay.”
“I don’t expect you to understand, either of you.” He lifted his hands from his knees, palms up. Lowered them again. “You’re women of the world. Of the law. This person came to me to unburden their soul, their heart, their conscience, of this mortal sin.”
“And you absolved them? Good deal for them.”
“No, I did not. Cannot absolve them. I can’t unburden them, Lieutenant. I counseled, I instructed, I urged this person to go to you, to confess to you. Until this is done, there can be no forgiveness, no absolution. They will live with this sin, and die with it unless they repent it. I can’t do anything for you, for them. I can’t do anything.”
“Did this individual know Lino Martinez?”
“I can’t answer you.”
“Is this person a member of your church?”
“I can’t answer you.” He pressed his fingers to his eyes. “It makes me ill, but I can’t answer.”
“I could put you in a cage. You’d get out. Your church will campaign, send their lawyers, but you’d do time first while we’re fighting it out.”
“And still, I can’t answer. If I tell you, I’ll have broken my vows, betrayed them. I’ll be excommunicated. There are all kinds of cages, Lieutenant Dallas. Do you think I want this?” he demanded, with the first hint of heat. “To block your justice? I believe in your justice. I believe in the order of it as much as you. Do you think I want to stand by, knowing I can’t reach a wounded, angry soul? That my counsel may have turned it away instead of bringing it to God?”
“They may come after you. You know who they are, what they did. I can take you into protective custody.”
“They know I won’t break my vows. If you took me away, I’d have no chance to reach them, to try, to keep trying to persuade them to do true penance for the sin, to accept man’s law and God’s. Let me try.”
She could all but feel herself beating her fists against the solid, the impenetrable wall of his faith. “Did you tell anyone? Father Freeman, your superiors?”
“I can’t tell anyone what was said or who came to me. As long as they live with it, so do I.”
“If this person kills again…” Peabody began.
“They won’t. There’s no reason.”
“It goes back to the bombings in 2043.”
“I can’t tell you.”
“What do you know about them?”
“Everyone in the parish knows of them. There’s a perpetual novena for the victims and their families. Every month a Mass is dedicated to them. To all of them, Lieutenant, not just the victim from El Barrio.”
“Did you know that Lino selectively blackmailed some who came to him in confession?”