For my family
"THE GUMSHOE DIARIES:
Father Hollyweird"
Chapter Two
Driving
around LA is a frustrating experience. Actually it's down right dangerous depending
on which part of town you're passing through. And my sub-par navigational
skills only compound the frustration and the risk factors. If you happen to be
heading uptown toward the Bonaventure Hotel and the Theater district well then you're
reasonably safe. But if you're passing through the 'hoods' (east or south) especially in or around Echo Park or
anywhere near Hollenbeck Station, my old stomping grounds by the way, then your
insurance policies had better be paid up. I mean both medical AND life because the
odds are that you’ll need one or the other are better than average! It all depends on Lady Luck. Even an ex-cop
like yours truly is taking chances in certain parts of town. Let's face it
nobody's bulletproof, am I right? Anyway, today I was headed uptown today to
meet with the chief holy man of Los Angeles, Bishop Armando Delarosa. His office
was over on Wilshire so I was reasonably certain I'd live to drink another day,
halleluiah brother!
You
know I rarely drive anymore. I prefer hoofing it around town or taking the bus,
so I schedule most appointments near my home base of operations which is the
bar in the lobby of my flat at the Alexandria Hotel. Its downtown over on
Spring St., however occasionally a case forces outside my comfort zone. When
that happens I rely on old faithful, my gloss white 'plain Jane' 1961 Corvair
convertible, it's a classic! You don't see many of those babies on the road
anymore for two reasons. Number one, they haven't made one of these jewels since
1969, and number two, nobody really liked the odd little wrench-a-day smog factories
anyway. The Corvair dropped off the scene before the conversion to unleaded fuel
burning engines that the automobile industry rolled out as mandated by a killjoy
environmental groups who whoop-assed the State and the Federal governments in
Detroit, Sacramento, and Washington D.C., what bunch of pussies! Be that as it
may, it’s still America, land of the free and I still drive my bucket of bolts.
It's got style Paley.
So,
after I finished an artery hardening breakfast of extra crisp bacon, two eggs
over easy (runny as a freight train thank you), hash brown potatoes (with
butter), toast with jam and half a gallon of black coffee I hoped into the snoop-mobile and drove the twenty or so
blocks to the administration building housing the LA Archdiocese of the
Catholic Church to chat with Bishop Delarosa about the letter in my pocket.
This was gonna be interesting. Two Holy men in one day, if I run over a nun on
the way I'll detour to Santa Anita and bet a Trifecta! Nah, that kind of luck
doesn't come my way. Whitey Roode only has two kinds of luck, dumb and bad.
Archdiocese
of Los Angeles
Bishop
Delarosa sat alone in darkness inside his large mahogany office. He sipped
lukewarm tea from a bone china cup hand made from County
Waterford , Ireland ,
a little memento from a conference in Dublin California America
"FERRIS!" bellowed the Delarosa.
A
thin young man dressed in black with the reverent white collar sat at the desk
outside of the Bishop's office. He didn't flinch at Delarosa's shout and calmly
rose from his station to answer the mail. He walked with folded hands to the
Bishop's doorway and stopped short of entering. He rapped on the door jamb and
responded to his summons. "Yes Your Eminence?"
"Has that so called detective
arrived yet?" asked an annoyed Delarosa.
"Not yet Eminence, I have
instructed reception to ring me straight away when he does," replied the
young man. Bishop Delarosa grunted a reply.
"Well, call me as soon as he gets
here. And Father, I apologize for shouting, it's been a trying morning as you
know," Delarosa said meekly.
"Of course Eminence, I took no
offense."
"Thank you Father Donahue,"
said Bishop Delarosa dismissing his aid with a half smile. The young priest
turned to return t his desk as Bishop Delarosa resumed whatever it was he was
doing,
Meanwhile,
back at Reception I was entering the building completely at ease with my usual
tardiness. Truth be told I don't think I've ever been on time to any meeting?
Hell, as I recall my old mother used to complain that I even kept her waiting
at birth arriving a week beyond the scheduled due date. What can I say, better
late than never, am I right? I walked up to tall reception counter manned by a
stoic looking woman who appeared to be in her early forties, but she was Asian
so she could be ten years past that. Not to stereotype but Asian women always
look younger than they are, at least until they reach 55 or so when the bubble
bursts and then hello Lady Clairol. As soon as my market research indicates a
population boom of Asian senior citizens I am buying a ton lot of stock in
Revlon! Miss Forty-something was on the phone, she smiled at me as she listened
to someone on the other end of the line. She must have been getting an earful
as she winced at whatever was being said. She hung up a nanosecond later and
removed the headset she was wearing.
"May I help you she?" she
asked sweetly.
"As a matter of fact you can.
Whitey Roode for Bishop Delarosa," I replied.
"Down the hall and left first
chance you get," she said, pointing the way with a #2 pencil.
"Thanks," I said, turning to
find my way. I'd taken only a couple of steps when she called out to me.
"You're late Mr. Roode. Better hurry, His Eminence isn't known for his
patience.
"Thanks again," I replied
without looking back. Maybe it was my super hearing or maybe it was my imagination
but I sear I heard her mutter something like "don't mention it asshole?" Wouldn’t be the first time I
earned such a retort with my smart ass demeanor.
Anyway
it was a short walk to in inner sanctum of LA's chief Holy man. Seated out
front was a trim young fella wearing what you'd expect in this place, black
slacks, black shirt, and white collar. He even had black hair. If his eyes were
black when I got close enough to notice I'm gonna hot foot it to the nearest
exit! I passed by several portraits of Holy men as I neared the Bishop's
office. They were on both sides of the aisle and their acrylic eyes followed me
like the Mona Lisa's do when you move around the Louvre in Paris
"Whitey Roode for Bishop
Delarosa," I said politely.
"Of course Mr. Roode we were
expecting you, just a moment," said the boy priest.
"You're late by the way," he
added, picking up the telephone handset. I made a face like I just bit into a
lemon and frowned.
"Eminence, the gentleman you're
expecting has arrived. Yes Eminence, he is standing right in front of me,"
he said staring me down. I could hear the Bishop muttering something on the
other end of the line.
"Yes Eminence," the priest
said as he hung up.
"I am Father Donahue, please
follow me Mr. Roode," the boy priest said rising from his perch to lead
the way.
"Thanks Father, I'll be right
behind you," I replied. We stopped at the door and Father Donahue
announced me, standing aside to let me pass. I gave him a polite Cub Scout
salute as I passed by to enter the Bishop's office. He ignored it and returned
to his station, closing the door behind me.
"Nice fella," I said as I
walked up to meet the Bishop.
"I'm sure Father Donahue would
appreciate your praise," replied Bishop Delarosa. He gestured toward the
two Queen Anne chairs in front of his desk. I took his cue and sat in the one
on my left. I always go left, I'm left handed.
"Mr. Roode I presume?"
"In the flesh your
Lordship."
"The term is Eminence but Father
will suffice," Delarosa said correcting me.
"Alright Father, whatever you
say."
"Would you like some tea
Detective Roode?"
"Nah, I'm a coffee man myself and
I've never turned down a cup of Joe."
Delarosa
picked up the telephone and rang his aide. "Ferris would you please have
some coffee sent from the Rectory for Detective Roode and myself."
He hung up the phone and returned some
papers in front of him to an open folder, closed it and then moved it to the
side to clear a space in front of him. It gave me a clue as to how this bird
flies. He was a control freak and I would need to be on my guard during our
conversation. Talking to upper echelon execs even in the clergy meant that you
could count on every word being recorded. No different than big business or big
government, so much for the sanctity of the confessional.
"Don't go to any trouble on my
account," I pleaded, sort of.
"It's no trouble I assure
you," he replied.
"Okay, thanks."
We
stared at one another for an uncomfortable minute causing me to fidget in my
seat. I involuntarily reached into my jacket pocket with one hand and retrieved
the Delarosa's letter and reached into a side pocket for my reading specs with
the other.
"I see you came prepared, you
brought along my letter," said Delarosa.
"That's why I'm here
Father."
"Shall we cut to the chase?"
I added.
"You're direct, I appreciate that
Detective Roode. It saves time and mine is quite valuable I assure you."
"Ditto Father, I'm a busy man my
own self."
"Very well, first things first,
are you a Catholic detective?"
"Rumor has it I was at one time.
I mean my old mother claims I was baptized a Catholic as a baby, went through
the Catechism and First Communion as a child, and confirmed as a teen. But
frankly since then I can't claim to anything other than the sinner I was born
as. I think this is the closest to a church I've been in forty some odd
years," I answered.
"I see. Well do you at least believe
in God detective?"
"I do, but in my own way."
"That is not exactly a real
answer my son but it will do for now."
"Why do you ask?"
"To gain the upper hand in
this relationship of course."
"Honesty, well played
Padre."
"Thank you. Now the letter, I can
see by its condition that you have read it more than once."
"I did."
"Tell me what you know of the
Egyptian Theater incident," Delarosa ordered more than asked. I could see
he was a man accustomed to giving orders. I hate that.
"You first," I replied
defiantly.
"Blunt and direct, I like that
Detective Roode," said Bishop Delarosa with a wicked little grin that made
my skin crawl.
"Call me Whitey," I said
trying to lighten the mood of the room.
"I'd rather not. I wouldn't call
you that even if it were your real name…Richard," he said, his grin
turning to a smile. That made my skin crawl faster.
"Been doing a little detective
work of your own I see Eminence."
"I like to know who I'm dealing
with, it keeps things even."
"Alright, if you say so, as for
the Egyptian Theater, all I know is what I read in the LA Times, which means I
don't know much."
"Noted, well allow me to shed a
little more light on the subject for you."
"Please do."
"Do I have your word that this
conversation stays in this room? May I count on your professionalism?"
"I will if you will."
"Clever detective,"
"Thanks, so turn off the
recording devises and let's talk turkey Eminence."
Bishop
Delarosa picked up the pone again. He muttered something in Italian to Father
Donahue in the other room. A couple of seconds later the boy priest entered the
room with a tray of coffee and a set of church keys. He set the refreshments on
the Bishop's desk and went around behind him. I sat mesmerized as Father
Donahue pulled a beautiful painting of St.
Paul
"Now let's skip what the papers
have reported so far, it's all superficial and frankly conjecture."
"Okay, if you say so," I
replied taking a sip from my cup. Good coffee, note to self, find out where
they get this stuff. Second note to self, forget it, probably can't afford it.
"I believe it's reasonable to
assume that the young lady was clearly disturbed, do you agree?"
I
nodded as if I did but I didn't really. The act was disturbing but that doesn't
mean she was disturbed. She may have been drugged or brainwashed or whatever.
There are always many layers to an onion like this. I've played enough poker in
my life to sense a bluff. What do I know about this girl? Answer, nothing yet.
More importantly what did Delarosa know, that was where I was going to start if
I take this case.
"What makes you say that?" I
asked.
"My God man, did you not see the
news footage of the emulation?"
"I saw it, awful."
"Suicide, murder, promiscuity,
these aren't enough clues for a smart detective to draw a similar
conclusion?"
"I get it Eminence, looney
tunes."
"What the newspaper temporarily
suppressed under pressure from the Vatican
Now
he had my full attention. This may not be a wasted trip after all. Father
Quinn? I knew that name. I reached into my jacket pocket and fished out the
business card I got from the film making priest I ran into earlier. Reverend
Nicholas Aloysius Quinn it read. I inadvertently repeated the name out loud,
that got the Bishop's attention.
"You know Father Quinn
detective?"
"Sort of, we met earlier on my
way over here. He was shooting a movie in my neighborhood. He gave me his card
and invited me to church sometime."
Delarosa
paused a moment to think about that and to study my face. He was trying to get
a read on what I may already know. I could see by the expression on his face
that he was choosing his next words wisely. I doubt he had planned to reveal
too much in this meeting. Now he was gonna have to. For the moment I had the
upper hand and I need to milk it for as much as I could.
"That was kind of him. You should
go I hear that his homilies are quite inspiring. He is a popular priest in the Archdiocese,
especially among the young people. And his films are quite good, inspiring, a
feather in the Church's bonnet."
"So I've heard."
"May I ask, what was your first
impression of the man?"
"I seemed like a good egg to me.
I hear he's quite a film maker as well."
"I'm glad that you liked him, he
is a good man. I'm hoping you can help to prove that before the Vatican
Delarosa
caught me off guard with that remark and I choked on my coffee. It was my turn
to pause and study him. The Bishop was an interesting piece of work. I already
didn't like him and I could see plainly that the feeling was mutual. This was
gonna be a powder keg of a case and the fuse was already lit. The Father Quinn
angle was gonna be the first big bang t deal with, and that would be exploding
sooner than later. I was being recruited to make this all go away and sweep
whatever dirt I discovered under the proverbial carpet before another church
steeple was toppled.
"We need someone with your unique
skills, someone who can swim in polluted water and come out smelling like a
rose. We need to start with Father Quinn and the girl. We need to understand
the level of exposure we're dealing with. We need to know the truth no matter
how damaging it may be, We fear the ramifications of a protracted investigation
by the LAPD and it's kibitzing Mayoral bureaucracy, I'm sure that you know what
I mean. So, will you help us Detective Roode?"
We
sat there in silence while I considered the options and finished my coffee.
There were only two, forget about it, walk away and let the chips fall where
they may for Father Quinn and the Catholic Church or take it on and risk
personal jail time for yours truly at the hands of Chief Oscar Celaya who'll undoubtedly
make my efforts as difficult as possible. It came down to the coffee. Oscar
serves up rot gut java and the stuff Delarosa just served me was sooooo good!
"Okay Eminence, I'll see what I
can do but it won't be cheap. My rates are $500 a day plus expenses. And you
know what, throw in a couple of pounds of this here coffee because it's
terrific!" Bishop Delarosa chuckled and smiled a genuine smile while he
poured me another cup.
"Alright Detective Roode, let's
agree that we have a deal. I'll have Father Donahue draw up a contract and
we'll send it over later for your signature. I will personally pray for your
efforts this Sunday at Mass. Stop by and receive Communion at the Holy
Eucharist with us. It's never too late to come back to the Church my son."
It was my turn to chuckle,
"Alright Eminence, we'll see, no promises," I replied accepting the
coffee and the invitation.
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