Leighton Gage - Blood of the Wicked

"And you did as he asked?"

"Yes. We met this morning, a few minutes past seven." Father Francisco reached into his pocket and removed an envelope. "He gave me this," he said, "and asked me to deliver it to you, personally. He said you'd be in the breakfast room of your hotel. I was to hand it over at nine-thirty AM precisely."

Silva examined the business-sized envelope. It was sealed and unmarked. "What's in it?"

"I'm not sure."

"So why didn't you? Hand it over at nine-thirty, I mean."

"When he left, I sat down on one of the pews near the altar. I was exhausted from the journey and closed my eyes for a moment. When I opened them, it was almost ten. I hurried here, but you'd already gone off to the jail with Orlando Muniz."

"What did you and Father Angelo talk about?"

"I think it would be best if you were to read the letter, Chief Inspector. Afterward, I'll respond to your questions."

Silva tore open the envelope, perched his eyeglasses on his nose and began to read aloud:

Dear Chief Inspector Silva, I am writing to confess to the murders of four men: Colonel Emerson Ferran, Major Osmani Palmas, Father Gaspar Farias, and Euclides Garcia.

"Jesus Christ," Arnaldo said.

He looked at Father Francisco and reddened, but the priest ignored his interjection.

Silva continued reading:

Please note that I take no responsibility for the death of the fazendeiro Orlando Muniz Junior. The men who killed him are all dead, murdered by Colonel Ferran in an unprovoked attack on the encampment of the Landless Workers' League.

"That's just too much of a coincidence," Arnaldo said. "And I'll believe it when I go back to believing in Santa Claus." Silva cleared his throat and went on:

I staged the deaths of Father Gaspar and Euclides. My motive in misleading the police about the true nature of the crime was to sow confusion, and to thereby ensure that I would be given the time to carry out some other plans that I had on my agenda.

Gaspar's confession, although obtained under duress, is truthful. He planned the murder of Bishop Antunes and his manservant carried it out. There will be ample proof of this in the degree of detail set forth in his handwritten document.

In the case of Ferran, his crimes are too numerous to list and many may never be known. They certainly include the murders of Diana Poli, Vicenza Pelosi, Anton Brouwer, various members of the Landless Workers' League, and at least five street children.

"That man Ferraz was a fucking murder machine," Arnaldo interjected. "Uh, sorry, Father."

"No apologies necessary, Agente. I happen to agree with you.,,

In all of Ferraz's crimes, his adjutant, Major Osmani Palmas, was a willing participant. In the case of the street children, Ferraz was also assisted by a death squad consisting of Tenente Lacerda, Sargento Maya, Cabo Cajauba, and Soldados Prestes, Porto, and Najas, the first four of whom also participated in the attack on the encampment.

"So that bucket of lard Menezes is out of it," Arnaldo said. "But there are still six of them. They'll be elbowing each other to be the first in line."

Silva nodded. As cops, Ferraz's men would be quick to recognize that the first of them to turn state's witness would get the best deal from the prosecutors. He adjusted his reading glasses and turned to the last page of Angelo's letter:

As for me taking the law into my own hands, I want to make one thing clear. I would have liked to have gone to my grave believing in Brazilian justice. If I regret nothing else, I do regret that I was unable to do that.

By the time you read this, I will have taken my own life. My last gesture before doing so will be to meet with Orlando Muniz in order to give him some degree of comfort by communicating to him what others have told me about his son's last hour.

God's blessings upon you, Chief Inspector Silva, and-to please my ghost-try to see that those as yet unpunished suffer the fate they deserve.

Yours,

Fr. Angelo Monteiro, S.J.

Silva folded the letter and looked at Father Francisco.

"A Jesuit, was he?"

Father Francisco nodded.

"Brouwer, too?"

"No. Franciscan."

"All right. Let's talk. Did Father Angelo ask you to come to Cascatas just to give me this?"

Silva brandished the priest's last letter.

"No, Chief Inspector, he asked me to come so that he could make another kind of confession. He did. I gave him absolution."

"So you knew he intended to take responsibility for the killing of four people?"

"I did. I would have expected no less of him. He was a murderer, but he was a good man. I know that sounds incongruous, but it's the truth."

"So you're sure he did it? Killed them, I mean?"

Father Francisco looked mildly surprised. "Of course he did. You just read his confession."

"I read it, yes, but don't you think it strange that the man lived a long life of peace and then, suddenly, went off on a murderous rampage? Was it because of what happened to his friend, Brouwer?"

"Father Angelo, Chief Inspector, was a very sick man. Lung cancer. He didn't have long to live. He authorized me to tell you that, and also to tell you that he wanted to make what he called `a difference' in the short time left to him. He feared you weren't going to be able to bring certain people to justice, so he decided to help you."

"Help me?"

Silva remembered the times he, too, had taken justice into his own hands. Father Francisco studied the expression on his face and misinterpreted it.

"Yes, yes, I understand your feelings. At first glance, it really seems repulsive. I can't condone his actions-"

"I can," Arnaldo muttered. "Good for him."

Silva gave him a sharp look. Arnaldo, unrepentant, grinned at him. He almost grinned back. To hide it, he turned again to Father Francisco. "Is there any more you can tell me about the death of Orlando Muniz Junior?"

"No."

"Why not? Sanctity of the confessional?"

Father Francisco looked Silva in the eye and didn't answer but he might as well have.

"So Angelo had something to do with it after all," Silva insisted.

"I didn't say that."

"No, you didn't, did you?"

"Look, Chief Inspector, you're holding a letter in your hand in which Father Angelo confesses to four murders but quite specifically denies any responsibility for the death of Muniz's son. Wouldn't it be logical to assume, then, that he had nothing to do with it?"

"That's the way it appears, doesn't it?"

"It certainly does. So what reason might he have had to tell Muniz that he did?

"Are you also a Jesuit, Father?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Then, just as an intellectual exercise, imagine this. Imagine that Father Angelo set Muniz up."

"Set him up?"

"Set him up. Provoked Muniz into committing murder with himself as the victim."

"All right. I'll try to imagine it. But first, tell me what motive Father Angelo could possibly have had for doing something like that. If he meant to hurt Muniz, why wouldn't he just shoot him like he did the others?"

"That's what's bothering me, too. Help me to think it through. As I said, purely as an intellectual exercise."

Father Francisco was silent for a moment. "Well… " he said.

"Yes?"

"Purely hypothetically, you understand?"

"Yes, Father. Purely hypothetically."

"Perhaps it could have had something to do with making the punishment fit the crime. After all, Muniz didn't actually kill anyone. He's not a good man, but he wasn't a murderer."

"Not as far as Angelo knew at the time. But now he is, Father."

"Yes, Chief Inspector, now he is. Or maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Maybe Father Angelo believed that prison would be the worst punishment for a man like Muniz, worse than dying even. Remember what he wrote about wanting to believe in Brazilian justice?"