Betrayal of Justice Page 18

“Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but Gerry sexually molested at least two teenage boys in Michigan, and we believe he did the same thing to the O’Connell boys and the MacLean boys—same age, same situation.”

  “How do you know this?” She hugged herself.

  “The boys named Gerry as the perp.”

  “What’s a perp?” She wondered.

  “The perpetrator of the crime,” he explained.

  “Oh, the perp,” echoed Jessica, abashed. “What did the MacLean and O’Connell families tell you?”

  “Same thing you did. Gerry’s a great guy, a model citizen, the next coming of Jesus H. Christ. They also told me the boys acted strange for weeks, and both sets of parents suddenly got ‘transferred’ out of town. They left in the middle of the night without providing a forwarding address or telephone number to any family members.”

  “I’ll admit that’s strange behavior, but what does this have to do with Gerry?”

  “Coincidence. The grandparents don’t realize it, but their grandchildren were silent, angry, and aloof for at least six months before the family left. Both sets of boys went on camping trips and overnights with Gerry at or near the time they began to have problems. My client’s children, also teenage boys, exhibited these exact symptoms, following an extended camping trip they took with Gerry. Gerry is transferred to Michigan while the two families disappear at or near the same time. Interesting coincidence?”

  “It could be just that, a coincidence.”

  Micah could tell, while she suggested a coincidence, she didn’t honestly believe it. She was struggling with the truth. She liked Gerry.

  “Could be, but I doubt it. The man is not who you think he is,” he disclosed. “Whether you choose to believe me or not, Bartholomew is a child molester. He uses his position to lure children into his bed or his shower and commits unspeakable acts under the guise of religious ritual, in the name of God. Church officials don't deny he abused the Tracey kids. There are criminal charges in Michigan, Jessica. I believe there were criminal proceedings here, too, but they were covered up.”

  Jessica remained stunned. “This is . . . unbelievable, so abhorrent! How could a man of God do such terrible things to children?”

  “This is not a man of God, Jessica. Maybe he once was, but no more. Now he’s an animal, posing as a man of God.”

  “I just can’t . . . this is so . . . my God, Micah, he forced teenage boys to have sex with him?”

  “I’m afraid so, Jessica.”

  “I can’t help you, Micah. I had no idea,” Jessica admitted. “I’m like everyone else in town who thought he was a great guy and a great priest, transferred only because his time came up before Bishop Foley was ready to retire.”

  “Jessica, maybe you can help. You know everyone in town, right?”

  “Pretty much. Why?” Jessica brightened.

  “How well do you know the custodian at St. Pat’s?”

  “Gus? I’ve known Gus all my life. He’s been the custodian at St. Pat’s forever. What does he have to do with this?”

  “I think Gus knows something. He started to confess something to me, but caught himself and clammed up. I’m sure the church has gotten to him and told him I’m dangerous or something by now, but if you were to talk to him . . .”

  Jessica was assertive now. “I’d be happy to, Micah. I know where he lives. I know his route home. I know where he goes to eat. I’ll talk to him.”

  “Wonderful,” Micah cheered. “I’m particularly interested if he knows why Gerry was transferred, what happened on those camping trips, and what higher-ups within the church knew about him or were responsible for his transfer.”

  “Geez, Micah. He’s the janitor—he doesn’t run the place!” Jessica snickered.

  “I know, but you’d be surprised what janitors hear roaming the halls. Besides, what’s the harm in asking? And don’t forget, initial denials don’t mean he doesn’t know anything,” Micah tutored, sleuthing 101.

  “Micah,” she purred, rubbing her leg and hand up his thigh under the table, “I have ways of getting even the toughest nuts to crack.”

  Micah gulped and then jumped, as her grip tightened. She is an interesting woman, this Jessica Klein. I have to get to know her better.

  “I’ll leave it in your capable hands.” He looked down. Her grip tightened.

  The waiter appeared with the bill. Micah paid it in cash and requested a receipt. Jessica held onto him, firmly, the entire time, while Micah tried to maintain composure. Finally, Micah rose, unable to take any more, forcing Jessica to release her grip. He immediately sat down, red with embarrassment. Nobody noticed his ‘condition,’ but Jessica chuckled. Micah waited until his ‘excitement’ subsided. He glared at Jessica, helped her out of her seat, and escorted her out of the restaurant and into the parking lot. He took her into his arms and kissed her. It was thrilling! He’d been celibate for too long! Doing was much more satisfying than watching. Both finally came up for air.

  “What was that nonsense in there?” Micah demanded.

  “What nonsense was that?” Jessica teased.

  “Oh, never mind, the night is young. Where to, now, in your fair city?” It didn’t seem so God-forsaken anymore.

  “How about my place?”

  Micah thought about those four-hour erections from the commercials. Who needs Viagra when you have Jessica? His would not subside. We could bottle her and make a fortune! He was putty in her hands.

  “Whatever you say, my dear. You’re in charge. I give up,” he conceded.

  “My place, then. We’ll plot strategy and begin a physical investigation.”

  “Sounds great to me,” he surrendered.

  “Let’s go, then.”

  “Let’s go, then,” he gestured.

  They got in the MKZ and roared off into the night. He’d never driven so fast in his life. He prayed the cops would be somewhere else. His prurient prayers were answered in one, spectacular evening.

  ***

  Blake pulled the Z4 onto Jennifer’s driveway and looked at her. She was staring at him.

  “What is it, Jenny? What’s wrong?” Zack fretted.

  “Nothing, Zack. I’m proud of you, that’s all,” she praised.

  “Proud? That’s not the emotion I was hoping for,” he cringed.

  She blushed. “Zack, I’m flattered, I really am. I don’t think the timing is good. Maybe after the trial or settlement?” Jennifer leaned toward him and held out her arms. Zack leaned in and banged the side of his ribs on the protruding emergency gearshift. “Shit!” he cursed. Jennifer laughed, the first time in a long time. Although he was in pain, Zack laughed too. He repositioned himself around the shift mechanism, and he took her into his arms for a brief embrace. Jennifer invited him inside for a cup of coffee.

  “What about the neighbors? What about the boys? What about the case?”

  “I don’t care about the neighbors. You think a cup of coffee would hurt the case somehow?”

  “And the boys?”

  “They’re probably sleeping.”

  “Let’s go see, then.”

  They exited the car and approached the side door. Jennifer fumbled with her keys, finally inserting them into the lock. Jennifer opened the door and pushed her finger to her lips, begging for quiet. Zack stopped and listened.

  “Not a creature was stirring . . .”

  “Let me check on the boys,” she cautioned.

  “You go check on the boys. I’ll go freshen up.”

  “You do that. The bathroom is down that hall. The family room is at the end of the hall. There is a bar in the wall unit.”

  “Would you like me to fix you something, my lady?” He offered, gallantly.

  “Yes, I would. Do you know how to make a Sea Breeze?”

  “With or without cranberry?”

  “With.”

  “You got it.”

  Zack went into the bathroom and studied himself in the mirror.

  “Not bad, for an old guy,�
�� he primped. He took a pocket brush out of his back pocket and ran it through his gray hair. When it was perfect, he spread his arms out at the mirror, like Henry Winkler used to do in Happy Days. He walked into the family room, found the bar and made himself an Absolut on the Rocks and Jennifer her Sea Breeze.

  As Zack turned toward the couch, he caught her, standing at the threshold of the room. The soft light glowed off her porcelain skin—she looked beautiful. Control yourself, Blake. She’s a client. She had freshened her makeup and hair. Her beauty and sexuality enthralled Zack. He downed his entire drink, staring at her. Then he walked over to her and handed her the sea breeze.

  “I take it the boys are sleeping?”

  “Yes, they are,” she whispered.

  This time, it was Zack who quashed any attempt at intimacy. “Where’s the kitchen?” he gasped. “I’ll make coffee.”

  Their eyes met for a moment, and she sensed his discomfort, a conflict between the personal and the professional. She pointed out the kitchen, and he sauntered away. The rest of the evening was spent discussing the boys, the case, the church, the offer, and where the two of them might be headed sometime in the future. Zack was pleased, glad he maintained a level of professionalism. This is a solid beginning.

  They walked into the family room and turned on the television. Murphy’s Romance was on HBO. James Garner was telling Sally Field that he would stay for dinner, but only if she’d make him breakfast the next morning . . .

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Zack opened his eyes to an absolutely beautiful morning. The sun peeked into the room through Venetian blinds. Where am I? He realized he was still at Jennifer Tracey’s house. He had fallen asleep on her family room couch. But, where was Jennifer?

  Jennifer awoke in her bed, upstairs. She stretched and immediately remembered she left Zack on the family room couch, fast asleep. How do I explain this to the boys? She was slightly embarrassed but realized she had no reason to feel that way. Zack had a couple of drinks, started to doze off, and she couldn’t possibly send him out to drive. If something happened, she would never forgive herself. There was a light tap on the bedroom door.

  “Mom? Mom, are you there?” Jake whispered.

  “Yes, honey, I’m here. Wait a second. Let me get my robe.”

  Jennifer rose from the bed, retrieved and donned a bulky terrycloth robe, which covered her nightgown completely. There was a man downstairs. She thought of the old I Love Lucy television show and the Desi Arnez line: ‘Lucy, you have some ’splaining to do.’

  Jennifer went to the door and opened it. Jake was standing there, with a strange look on his face. Apparently, he had gone downstairs and found Zachary Blake sleeping on the family room couch. Where was his mother? He was pleased to discover her in her bedroom, alone, with the door locked.

  Blake sat up on the couch and tried to clear his head. How much did I have to drink last night? I need some coffee . . . He heard voices upstairs, then footsteps coming down the stairway. He jumped off the couch, ran to the bathroom, and locked the door. He went to the sink and splashed water on his face, lingering there, allowing water to cascade down his neck. Nice evening. I must have fallen asleep. How is Jennifer going to explain this to the boys? Ah . . . Jennifer . . .

  He could hear the sound of her voice in the kitchen, talking, he presumed, to the boys. He wondered what she was telling them and whether he should intrude. Did she want him to wait here? His cell phone was in the inside pocket—he used it to dial Jenny’s number.

  “Hello?” Jenny answered.

  “Hi, it’s me,” Zack whispered.

  “Zachary? Where are you?”

  “In the bathroom off the family room. Is it safe?”

  Jennifer laughed out loud. “Of course, it’s safe. I can’t believe you called me on that thing from the bathroom!”

  “I didn’t want to interrupt your conversation with the boys. What are you telling them? How will you explain me being here this morning?” Zack blubbered.

  “Why don’t you come out here and find out for yourself, Mister Tough Guy. Are you this intimidated in court?”

  “Okay, smartass. Shoot me for being sensitive to the boys’ feelings. Call me pisher.”

  “Call you what?”

  “Pisher. It’s a Yiddish thing. It means . . . never mind. I’ll be right down.” Cultural differences.

  Jennifer reflected upon Zack’s use of the cell phone from the bathroom and decided his sensitivity was adorable. What a lovely man . . .

  “Hi, guys.”

  Zack entered the kitchen to find the Tracey family seated at the kitchen table. He could smell bacon cooking and observed a large bowl of scrambled eggs on the kitchen table. There was a pitcher of orange juice and a full pot of coffee on the counter. The table had four place settings, one of which was unused. Jenny and the boys had obviously started without him. The remaining place setting told him he was expected. The phone call was unnecessary. He sat down, slightly embarrassed.

  “Hi, Mr. Blake,” Jake muttered.

  “Yeah, hi,” Kenny grumbled.

  Zack ignored the hostility and helped himself to generous portions of eggs, juice, and coffee. Jennifer rose, retrieved the bacon, and brought it to the table.

  “Call me, Zack, boys,” he gestured. “How’s everybody this terrific morning?”

  “We’re all fine,” Jenny smiled. “And how are you?”

  “I couldn’t be better.”

  “Mom told us you slept over last night. Does that mean you’re her boyfriend?” Jake pondered.

  “Shut up, Jake,” Kenny scolded.

  “Kenny, please don’t talk to your brother like that,” Jenny scolded.

  She handles the boys with such grace, Zack marveled.

  “Sorry, Mom,” Kenny apologized.

  “Not to me, to Jake, Kenny.”

  “Sorry, Jake,” with less sincerity.

  “Okay, Kenny.” If Kenny hurt Jake’s feelings, it was not evident in his demeanor.

  “Well,” Jake turned to Zack, “does it?” Zack couldn’t read him. If we were a couple, would he be pleased or displeased?

  “No, Jake. I’m not her boyfriend. I just fell asleep on the couch. After this case is over, I might like to get to know your mother better. Would that be all right with you?”

  “What were you doing on the couch?” Jake snickered.

  Zack laughed. “Nothing like that, Sherlock. We were going to have coffee. I turned on a movie and fell asleep.”

  The boys chuckled and went back to their breakfast. No big deal, I guess, Jenny smiled. They chatted, joked, and laughed all through breakfast.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Micah stirred in Jessica’s small, uncomfortable, double bed. His eyes opened, and he checked the alarm clock—8:30 a.m. He sat up. His head throbbed, and he lay back down. He turned to Jessica and discovered she was gone. He called out to her. Maybe she was in the bathroom. He discovered a note on the pillow.

  Micah: I had a wonderful time. You’re terrific. I had to go to work. I couldn’t bear to wake you. You looked so cute, sleeping with your hair coming off the top of your head and down in your face. Call me at the office or stop by.

  Love & kisses,

  Jessica

  Micah instinctively straightened his hair as he read the note. “She thinks I’m terrific,” he boasted. He hauled his ass out of bed, marched into the bathroom, and took a cold shower, courtesy of Jessica’s defective hot-water tank. Afterward, he dressed and ate a quick breakfast at a local coffee shop.

  He had work to do. He needed to purchase equipment to defeat a caller ID block, check computer records, and develop, with Jessica, an approach to take with the janitor. That would give him an excuse to see her. What a night! It might have been the best night of his life. Jessica was amazing. He was still alive! He loved sex, doing it, watching it, reading about it, but never, ever, had he experienced anything like Jessica Klein.

  After breakfast, Micah returned to the hotel to ch
eck for messages. Nothing. He walked over to city hall and the register of deeds office. Jessica was at the front desk, dressed to kill. She wore a tight-fitting, very low-cut teal silk dress. Micah couldn’t believe the city permitted her to dress like this. He didn’t mind, In fact, he imagined her without the dress. Last night’s memories were vivid.

  “Hi,” she greeted him.

  “Hi, yourself,” he smiled.

  “Did you sleep well? I didn’t have the heart to wake you. You looked so cute and peaceful,” she grinned.

  “Thanks for the consideration and the compliment,” Micah noted.

  “What brings you here this morning?”

  “What kind of question is that?” Micah babbled. “You, of course.”

  “I know. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

  “If you’d like, I’ll say it again.”

  “No, that’s not necessary. Once is enough.”

  “Once will never be enough for me, when it comes to you,” he swooned.

  “How sweet. Micah . . . I need to say this . . . Last night was wonderful, but . . .” She hesitated.

  “But what?” he tensed. This girl is a roller-coaster ride.

  “But there are no strings, no attachments. I know you’re going to finish your work and return to Detroit. I don’t want you to feel you owe me something. I had a great time last night, and I hope you did too. But if that’s where it ends, I’ll understand,” she assured.

  “Jessica, I don’t think you understand. I didn’t have a great time last night.” Micah lowered his head, sad-faced.

  “Oh, I just thought . . .” Jessica blushed.

  “I had a terrific time, a marvelous time. I was in ecstasy. I never met a woman like you! ‘No strings’ is totally unacceptable to me. Don’t say anything like that again. I still can’t believe a knockout babe like you would even consider a schlub like me.”

  Jessica was relieved. “A what?” she queried, confused.

  “Schlub. A grubba-ying. You know,” Micah explained.

  “No, I don’t. What language is that?” She wondered, still perplexed.

  “Yiddish.” Not Jewish? He didn’t care if she was PLO. He was in lust.