In the Wrong Hands, стр. 31
By the time Aiden realized what was going on, the pastor had dismounted and was half way across the room. Winded and at a loss, Aiden called after him.
“I certainly will Carl. Thanks again.”
Great! Now what?
He couldn’t jump off and follow the man. He just got on. This was supposed to be a covert operation. Fake a pulled muscle? Feign exhaustion? For crying out loud! No! Two faces flashed before his eyes as he watched Seymour exit the room. The first was Archbishop Fellini’s. His Grace had put a great deal of faith in Aiden’s people skills…skills that, as it would seem, were rendered useless in the presence of self-consciousness. The second was that of Jesus. At age 33, the man cleansed the world of sin by escaping death. At age 26, Aiden couldn’t even escape from a piece of damned exercise equipment. This was horrible. He looked down at his sweaty white knuckles and whispered to himself.
“Okay, O’rourke, what’s your next move?”
Next move? All he wanted to do was have a conversation with the guy, not sell him vinyl flooring. Still he found himself helplessly strategizing. Did Carl just finish his warm-up or his cool-down? If it was his warm-up, he’d be starting on his lower body. If it was his cool-down, he’d be headed to the showers. Aiden checked the timer…six minutes. He whispered again.
“Screw it. Maybe he won’t notice.”
He went into the hallway, feeling like a completely ineffectual idiot. He knew that Catholics were often erroneously looked upon as self-loathers. He never bought into it, but he was feeling the part as he walked toward the men’s locker room shaking his head in disgust.
He slapped the door open and made a bee-line for his locker, all the while looking for Carl out of the corners of both eyes. He opened his locker, pulled out his cell phone, and pretended to check his text messages. Pastor Seymour was nowhere to be seen, so Aiden replaced his phone, used two fingers to push his locker shut, and retraced his bee-line back to the hallway.
He was reaching for the door when it opened by itself. A familiar face appeared.
“Hey Aiden. Forget something?”
Dang!
“Carl! Hi! Uh, no…I’m expecting a text from Pastor Karney. I forgot to check it before I started my cardio so…”
He had over-explained himself just like a fifth grader who hadn’t finished his homework.
“Okay, well…enjoy.”
And Aiden found himself in the hallway once again. On the opposite side of the door was Pastor Seymour. The situation had turned from awkward to comical. Exasperated, he threw his towel over his head, sat on the floor with his back against the wall, and started to laugh uncontrollably. The towel came off once he composed himself.
“This is stupid.”
He stood defiantly and re-entered the locker room. Pastor Seymour was sitting in front of his locker undoing his sneakers. He saw Aiden right away.
“Wow! That was quick.”
“I’m cutting it short today, Pastor. My head’s not really in the game.”
Again, not a lie.
“Listen, Carl…”
“Is it okay if I go first?”
Aiden had no idea what the pastor was talking about but nodded and smiled anyway. Addressing one or a thousand, Carl Seymour was an excellent speaker, and he meant everything he said from the depths of his soul.
“On behalf of maybe a dozen members of my congregation, I’d like to apologize for yesterday.”
Aiden correctly guessed he was talking about the protest.
“Oh. I didn’t realize your congregation…”
“They didn’t organize it, but they were there. It’s not our way. Once the law has its shot, it’s up to God to do the rest. Alleluia.”
“Amen.”
It just slipped out.
“Anyway, for what it’s worth, I spoke to them and the rest of the folks at First Baptist. Nothing like that will happen again, at least not by our doing. I was trying to work up the courage to talk to you about it out there, but…I don’t know…it’s supposed to be easier to approach a friend with this sort of thing, but somehow it just isn’t. You know?”
All that stress for nothing. Aiden apologized to God for his lack of faith. Now it was time to come clean.
“Actually, yes, I do know.”
He explained everything.
“It’s probably small consolation, Carl, but I came to you first.”
Pastor Seymour belly-laughed. He hadn’t stopped smiling since Aiden started talking. The only thing he enjoyed more than Sunday worship was an opportunity for forgiveness.
“That depends on who you were planning on going to second.”
“Would you laugh harder if I said Rabbi Sager?”
“Good choice…”
Pastor Seymour did laugh harder, and then suddenly turned serious.
“…but you won’t get him today if that was the plan.”
“Oh no. I don’t like the sound of that.”
“It’s a sad one, Father. One of the boys from his synagogue was killed. He died in the hospital this morning, and the family’s level of orthodoxy requires a burial before sundown. It’s understandably quite a scramble.”
“You said he was killed. You mean murdered?”
The pastor stood and unzipped his sweat jacket.
“More or less. He was at a party on Saturday night and got jumped. The poor kid was beaten almost beyond recognition. The doctors were surprised he lasted as long as he did. The family wasn’t even given word as to what had happened until it was too late. Real shame.”
“Where did it happen?”
It was a question that begged a benign answer.
“The Old Meadowbrook Farm.”
Pastor Seymour turned around to find Father O’Rourke bracing himself against the wall of lockers and breathing heavily as though he was about to pass out.
“Are you okay, Aiden?”
Aiden looked up. His face was a shade whiter than normal. Carl was surprised that was even possible.
“Been better.”
12. Back at the Station
Lynch rolled back from his desk and looked at the ceiling to give his eyes a rest. He felt like he hadn’t blinked for three hours. Gomez was in the bathroom recovering from lunch. He’d exited the squad room with his regular eloquence, stating that his Barn Yard needed to take a swim.
As they’d discussed after the feeding frenzy, attention