Something knocking, p.8
Something Knocking, page 8
That finally got his attention. “The Lesser Key of Solomon is not a joke, Lauren. The invocations contained within are powerful and can summon forces mortal men are not meant to wrestle with.”
Lauren just barely managed to avoid curling her lips in contempt. “The Lesser Key of Solomon costs fifteen dollars in paperback. I can download it on my phone for four-ninety-nine. It’s not some hidden grimoire someone dug out of a cave. I could buy a dozen copies and send one to everyone we’ve talked to about the case so far.”
“The Bible has been printed billions of times,” he countered. “Do you deny its power?”
“You know I do,” Lauren replied, not bothering to hide it. “And even if I didn’t, that doesn’t mean I accept that a demon possessed these sisters and decided to explode them. Come on, Father. You’ve been an exorcist for decades. Setting aside the fact that I don’t believe in exorcism, can you honestly tell me that you’ve seen anything remotely like what’s been described?”
“Yes,” he said, without hesitation. “I can.”
Lauren met his eyes, and his gaze didn’t falter. She sighed and said, “And you can tell me without a shadow of a doubt that it was a demon that caused, what? You’ve seen people’s aortas explode before?”
“I could share very many stories like the ones these nuns suffered,” he replied. “I have seen people bleed from their mouths, and I’ve seen people fall down dead of a heart attack. I’ve heard people who can’t even write their own names in their native language speak in Latin and Greek and tongues unknown to man. I’ve seen many other things you won’t believe, and forgive me Lauren if I choose not to describe them to you only to watch you roll your eyes and shake your head as though my words were those of an imaginative child. You may not believe what I believe, just as a child today may not believe the horrors of a war they’ve never experienced, but I am not here to convince you of their truth. I pray that you will believe in God again one day. If you never believe in demons or possessions, then I will count that a blessing because it will mean you haven’t had to see what I’ve had to see.”
His voice rose in volume as he ranted until others began to glance uncomfortably their way. Lauren remained silent after he stopped, staring at her plate.
“I’m sorry, Lauren,” Father Emilio said after a moment. “I should not have allowed my anger to impact me so. For what it’s worth, I am inclined to believe, like you, that this is the work of a man and not a devil. But I am not yet certain of that, and until I am, I can’t act as though there is no chance of supernatural interference.”
“Can you at least do more than sit silently while I handle the bulk of the investigation?” Lauren asked. “I was assigned to be your assistant, not to lead this case. I left the FBI for a reason, Father.”
He was silent another moment, and when he spoke again, he was far calmer and more subdued. “Yes,” he replied, “of course. I am not an expert criminal investigator, Lauren. That, I believe, is why God moved me to ask for your help and why I am inclined to feel that you are right, and this is the work of man and not a devil. However, I acknowledge that I am asking much of a woman who has come here to escape the life into which she has been thrust again. I am grateful for your help. Truly.”
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you,” she said, “I’m happy to help.” She felt like it sounded insincere but realized, and this surprised her, that she was sincere, actually.
They were silent a while once more. Then Father Emilio said, “Perhaps our next step is to check local police records and see if there’s any record of anyone perpetrating or threatening violence to the sisters. It could be that there were warning signs we’ve missed.”
Lauren met his eyes and nodded, impressed. “That’s a very good idea,” she said. “Let’s do that.”
Father Emilio smiled, and Lauren couldn’t resist an answering smile of her own. “You see?” he said, “I’m not simply a superstitious fool.”
She rolled her eyes but kept her smile. She thought a moment, then said, “I don’t think we should focus only on those threatening violence. It’s a place to start, but these nuns don’t seem the type to make a lot of enemies. They’re not walking around judging sinners. They are easy targets, however. In a high profile case, the perpetrator often tries to help the investigation.”
“Help? How?”
“Kidnappers help with searches in the wilderness. People show up to offer tips and leads.”
He smiled. “So perhaps we are looking for someone who was a friend, no?”
She smiled. “It’s possible.”
“Well then,” he replied. “We will investigate both those who have threatened the convents and those who have been, shall we say, suspiciously helpful.”
She grinned. “Sounds like a plan, partner.”
They left the restaurant and headed back to the precinct. Lauren was in a somewhat better mood, but she still felt concerned that she was the only hope these nuns had for justice. The one hope they had was a bitter, traumatized, former-nun-turned-FBI-agent-turned-Vatican-P.I.
If God did exist, he had as sick a sense of humor as that old song suggested.
***
“You think this is a crime of opportunity?” Sergeant Forza asked.
Lauren nodded. “That makes the most sense to me. The two convents share resources on a continual basis, and people travel between both locations on an equally continual basis, but no records are kept of anything. If you’ll pardon the expression, everything is done on faith.”
“And you agree?” he said, turning to Father Emilio.
Lauren’s lips thinned at the disrespect he showed, but she remembered that Sergeant Forza was unaware of her FBI background and had no way of knowing she was an expert on this subject.
Fortunately, Father Emilio wasted no time informing the good sergeant. “Miss Lamb was a decorated agent of the United States’ Federal Bureau of Investigation for ten years. I trust her judgment.”
Sergeant Forza’s eyes widened, and when he spoke to her again, he did so with far more respect. “I see,” he said. “So what are you looking for right now?”
“Criminal records in the area,” she said, “Particularly violent crimes against women perpetrated by people who attend either of the parish churches in Pescara or San Vito Chietino. Bonus if the perpetrator has helped the nuns in the past.”
“You think he could have ingratiated himself and used his proximity as an in to assault these women?”
“It’s possible,” she agreed. “It’s also possible that he simply was present at the right time. He could have ingratiated himself or he could have chosen to be as invisible as possible and taken advantage of the lack of recordkeeping.”
“Well,” Forza said reluctantly. “I’m sorry to say the province has more than its fair share of violent criminals, including sexual offenders. I wish I could say your search will be an easy one, but I doubt it.”
“I don’t expect it to be easy yet,” Lauren said, “and probably not for a while. But the more we narrow down our pool and eliminate possible suspects, the closer we’ll get to the real criminal.”
“You’re not concerned that if we spend too long, the killer could strike again?” Father Emilio asked.
“Of course, I am,” she confessed, “but the killer waited a month to strike a second time. We can hope that he moves slowly enough that it could be several weeks before he claims another victim.”
“Are we absolutely sure the killer is a man?” Sergeant Forza asked.
Lauren blinked when he said that. She felt a touch of guilt. She had assumed that. That was an unforgivable mistake. “You think it could be a woman?” she asked.
“If the mechanism is poison, then I would say so,” he replied. “The convents allow few males on the premises. They are unguarded, so a man could sneak inside, of course, but women are more likely to kill with poison than men, so I would suspect that our killer is possibly a woman. It’s too early to say for sure either way, but we shouldn’t limit the investigation only to men, especially considering this is a crime of opportunity.”
“Very well,” she replied. “I’ll open the search to include women.”
She scanned records for close to an hour or so before she found something helpful. As it turned out, the first real suspect happened to be a man after all. She called Sergeant Forza back into the office. “What can you tell me about this gentleman?” she asked.
This gentleman in question was Marco Paolini, forty-eight, a former grocer convicted of sexual assault on a nun at the convent in Scerne, a few miles north of Pescara. He had snuck into the convent posing as a deacon at the local parish church and assaulted one of the sisters while she prayed in the chapel adjoining the cloister. He was caught before the assault progressed to penetration and served five years for criminal molestation.
He was released three weeks before Sister Luisa died.
“Oh yes, I remember him,” Forza said, his jaw tightening. “He tried to rape a nun at the convent in Scerne. The other sisters rescued their sister and drove him from the convent. We picked him up a mile away hiding in a vineyard. He works as a bus driver now.”
Lauren turned to him incredulously. “He’s a registered sex offender, and he has a government job?”
“Don’t look at me,” he protested, “I wanted him locked up for life.”
“Shall we talk to this Marco Paolini?” Father Emilio interrupted.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Lauren replied. “Sergeant Forza, would you like to join us?”
His lips turned down. “I would,” he replied, “but I have a budget meeting that I for some reason must attend. If you need any help when you bring him in, I’ll be more than happy to provide it.”
“I’m sure we won’t need to resort to barbaric tactics,” Father Emilio interrupted.
“I’m not suggesting barbarism,” Sergeant Forza replied. “Only strictness.”
“Let’s have a conversation with him first,” Lauren said, “He’s a person of interest right now, not a suspect. We can’t convince ourselves we’ve solved the crime just because we have a lead.”
“Yes, of course, Special Agent,” Forza replied.
Lauren stiffened slightly. “Lauren is fine,” she said.
Father Emilio raised a questioning eyebrow at her reaction, but she ignored him. Sergeant Forza bowed, and said, “In that case, Lauren, I wish the two of you luck on your investigation.”
CHAPTER TEN
Marco Paolini lived outside of Pescara in the rural suburb of Villa Celiera. Sergeant Forza loaned them a car, which Lauren drove, since Father Emilio didn’t have a license. The sun was low in the sky when they arrived, just around the time people would be arriving home from work.
Unfortunately, people didn’t include Marco Paolini. There was no answer to their knock when they arrived.
“Shall we wait for him?” Father Emilio asked.
Before Lauren could answer, they heard a voice call, “Hey! Who are you? What are you doing at my house?”
They turned to see Paolini walking swiftly up the path to his doorway, frowning. Marco was somewhat more heavyset than he appeared in his pictures, but there was solid muscle underneath the fat, and his hands were large and strong. It was his eyes that concerned Lauren the most, though. They looked her up and down lecherously, and despite his irritation at being interrupted, Lauren’s skin crawled as she recognized in his eyes that his thoughts drifted to far more unsavory paths.
“I am not welcoming visitors!” he cried again as he approached. “Please leave!”
“Marco Paolini,” Lauren replied, “I am Lauren Lamb, and this is Father Emilio Carbone. We’re here on behalf of the Vatican to investigate the recent murders of Sisters Luisa Montebello and Katarina Lucchese.”
When the word sister left her lips, Marco’s eyes widened, and the lecherous look he wore was replaced with fear. “I don’t know anything about that,” he protested, “please leave!”
“Mr. Paolini,” Lauren replied, politely but firmly. “I’m asking only for a minute of your time.”
“I don’t have a minute,” he insisted. “Get off of my property!”
“Shall we call the police and ask them to assist us?” Father Emilio offered mildly.
Lauren turned to him, eyebrows lifted in surprise. Marco paled a moment, but then his eyes narrowed. “Get off of my property,” he said.
He took a menacing step toward Father Emilio, and Lauren stepped in between them. That seemed to infuriate Marco who shoved her roughly backward.
Lauren recovered quickly and prepared to take Marco down, but a flash of movement caught her eye, and before she knew it, Marco was pinned against the wall, his arm twisted behind his back. Father Emilio held him there, and the hardness in his eyes shocked Lauren. The compassionate, benevolent priest she knew was gone. In his place was a man who looked far more dangerous than a country priest.
“Let me go!” Marco cried, struggling ineffectually. Though he was younger, and at first glance far stronger than Father Emilio, the father didn’t seem to struggle at all as he held him against the wall.
“I can’t do that,” Father Emilio said. His voice was as hard as his expression, and Lauren continued to stare in shock.
“Please!” Marco shouted. “I don’t know anything!”
“Yet you run from us?” Father Emilio said. “Yet you assault my partner? You don’t know anything, but you enjoy harming women, don’t you, Marco? Perhaps you enjoyed assaulting the sisters.”
“That was years ago!” he cried. “I did my time for that.”
With a mighty heave, he pushed himself back from the wall. Father Emilio stepped back calmly, and when Marco launched a looping haymaker at the priest’s jaw, he easily sidestepped the blow and tripped Marco over his feet, laying him flat on the ground.
Lauren recovered from her shock enough to step closer. She laid a hand on Father Emilio’s shoulder and he stepped back from Marco. “You want to talk to us now, Marco?”
He stared up at them wide-eyed, chest heaving. “All right,” he said, “I’ll talk. I don’t know anything, I swear.”
“Let’s go inside,” Lauren suggested.
Marco stood slowly, his eyes never leaving Father Emilio. The priest’s own gaze remained hard, and though he appeared calm, Lauren could tell he was coiled like a snake ready to strike again if Marco tried something else foolish. Lauren decided she needed to ask him about his sudden display of strength and skill after they talked to Marco.
Marco’s home was disheveled and dusty. It wasn’t particularly dirty but appeared to belong to someone who had given up on life. Lauren couldn’t help but wonder if her own home would look like this eventually.
She dismissed the unpleasant thought and turned her attention to the case. “Mr. Paolini,” she said, “can you confirm your whereabouts the night of May seventeenth and the night of June eleventh?”
“I can tell you I was home,” he said glumly, “but will you believe me? I have no friends, Miss Lamb. No one could confirm I was anywhere.”
“So, you were home,” she said. “Have you ever visited the convents in Pescara and San Vito Chietino?”
He scoffed. “How can I? I’m not allowed in any convent anymore.”
“You reacted as though you knew the victims,” Father Emilio said, once more impressing Lauren who hadn’t thought of him as particularly observant before now. “Why?”
He paled. “I didn’t know them specifically. I know why you’re here, though. Two nuns were murdered. I tried to… assault… a nun. You suspect me, and like I said, I have no way of proving it wasn’t me.”
“So, do the best you can,” Lauren suggested. “Convince me it wasn’t you.”
He looked at her and seemed to consider for a moment. Then he sighed and said, “You know of my past. You know what I did. How can I convince you to believe it isn’t me?”
“You need to try,” she said. “You need to do your best.”
He shrugged and said, “Back then, I was… I mean, I…” he hung his head. “I was angry. I was lonely, and I was angry because I believed that no one would ever want me. I had a woman. A beautiful woman.” He lifted his eyes and looked at Lauren. “She looked like you. Raven locks, deep blue eyes, a body that would drive any man wild.” He shook his head. “I thought she loved me too, but… she was cruel to me. She insulted me and belittled me and told me over and over that I wasn’t man enough for her. I endured everything she said and did everything she asked. I slaved and worked to buy her the finest things I could afford, but it wasn’t enough. I came home one day to find her underneath a wealthy man, a stock trader. She was…” his lips thinned. “She clearly preferred him to me. When she saw me, she laughed at me and told me to wait outside until this real man was finished with her.”
“What did you do?” Lauren asked.
He shrugged. “I left. I could have hurt him, but what then? I would still have lost the only woman I ever loved.”
“I am sorry to hear that this woman treated you so poorly,” Father Emilio said, “but what does this have to do with the woman you attacked?”
Marco chuckled bitterly. “At first, I was merely heartbroken, but after a while, I got angry. Why shouldn’t I deserve the love of a woman? I’m a good man. I work hard. I’m not wealthy, but I can provide. Why shouldn’t I enjoy beauty?”
“But no woman wants me. I’m too short, too fat, too ugly, I don’t know. I only know that one day it was too much for me. I spied a nun giving food to the poor, and she was so beautiful. Just like my wife. Just like you,” he looked at Lauren again. “I saw her, and I wanted her, and if it meant the end of me, so be it. I could be a good person and spend my life wanting, or I could be evil for a moment and enjoy some measure of happiness.”
Father Emilio shook his head. The hardness in his eyes was gone, replaced by sorrow and compassion. “Know ye not, that to whom ye yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants ye are to whom ye obey; whether of sin unto death, or of obedience unto righteousness?” he quoted.
