M. Forsythe - While Rome Was Sleeping

“Nah,” Jim argued with himself, “It must have something to do with betting on the horses.” Everyone knew that Monte liked to play the ponies. “No! There are just too damned many coincidences,” he said aloud into the phone. The Savalza intuition was now in high gear.

He heard Andrew cough, “Hey, Jim what coincidences… I can’t hear what you’re saying, are you still there? I’ve got to get going. I need to talk to Ben and Charlene Thayer too. There’s a lot to tell them.”

“Yeah, sorry, Andy, I was distracted for a minute, and I still have more questions—some of them for you,” Jim struggled to come back to the conversation.

“I’ll be around;” Andrew told him, “Except tomorrow. Jim, but since you want some of your questions answered, I think you should spend tomorrow with me and a couple of friends.”

“Spend the day with you, are you nuts? For what, it’s Saturday for crying out loud! As it is, my wife and children have to look at my picture to remember who I am.” Then slowly he said, “Okay, Andy, what’s going on tomorrow?”

“Sorry to take you away from your family, Jim, but you’ve said you want to know more about Kelshaw; tomorrow is your chance. Be at the Seamen’s Center at 7:30 in the morning. There’s someone you need to meet.”

“You don’t mean Mr. Evan Scott, do you?”

Jim’s question was met with stupefied silence. Then Andrew responded in disbelief, “How did you… never mind. I don’t want to know.”

In a more serious tone Jim added, “Watch yourself, Andy. I mean it! Schultz and Tanner’s demise is very convenient for someone, don’t you think? And there are still some pieces missing in this puzzle. Personally, I think they are big ones. Be careful!”

“Yeah, yeah. You know you’re worse than my mother. Yes, Detective Savalza,” he intoned slowly, “we will be extremely careful. ‘G’bye now.”

Andrew glanced at his watch and quickly dialed the Center. “Hello Father Ben, Don’t go away and hold on to your cassock, I have a lot to tell you! I’ll be there in a few minutes. He then quickly placed a call to Charlene Thayer. “Charlene,” he spoke rapidly “Can we meet on Sunday… perhaps after Church?”

“Yes, I think so; I usually go to the 10:30 service at St. Mark’s if that would work; we can meet in the parking lot about 11:45.”

“Great!” Andrew said enthusiastically. “I’ll pick you right after Mass at St. Joseph’s; I have some things to talk with you about so keep the afternoon open ended. Okay?”

“That’s fine, I’ll see you Sunday,” Charlene responded thinking perhaps she would have something to tell Andrew as well.

“And, Charlene, be careful—just don’t take chances, you know, until we get this whole thing wrapped up.”

She listened as Andrew cautioned, thinking that he wasn’t making a lot of sense. “Wait, Andrew, what should I be careful of?”

“Uh, well I, ah, probably nothing, but you never know until everything is settled just be careful. Oh, and call me anytime day or night if you need anything or…,” he found he was drowning in bottomless explanations that weren’t working. “Okay, I’ll see you Sunday, okay?”

“Yes, I’ll see you Sunday.” She shrugged as she placed the phone back in the cradle puzzled by Andrew’s rambling warning.

At 3:30 on Friday afternoon Charlene placed a call to a home in Alexandria, Virginia. “Olivia, this is Charlene Thayer. I know this is out of the blue after all this time, but,” she paused, “Is Brad in town? I really need to speak with him.”

“Charlene, can it be? It is wonderful to hear your voice; it has been so long! Is something wrong?” Olivia was concerned, aware of the edge in Charlene’s voice.

Charlene and Olivia had been close friends at one time, but Paul’s death and Brad’s demanding military career brought about rapid changes and distances. Friends often lost touch with one another in the wake of military schedules.

“I don’t know, Olivia; I’ve been going through some of Paul’s things and I need to clarify something with Brad. I know he’s wildly busy, but this simply has to be settled.” Charlene insisted in a warmer tone. She had not spoken with Olivia for at least two years and she realized she had probably alarmed her. “It’s just that there are some questions that have come up that need answers, and I’m afraid that Brad is the only person who can help.”

After additional exchanges of small talk and agreeing to do better staying in touch with each other, Olivia assured Charlene, “You know Charlene that we, Brad and I, are glad to help in any way that we can. Brad is not in town but I expect him home tonight or tomorrow. My husband is on the move so much these days. I expect him when I see him,” she laughed, but there was a hollow ring to it. “Do you still have the same number?”

“Yes, and thank you ‘Livy’,” she said using the nickname that Paul and she had used. “I’ve missed you in my life. You’ll never know how good it is to hear your voice. I’d like to talk more and we will at another time—and I promise I will stay in touch.”

“It is good to hear you too; Charlie” she said softly, “And I will definitely have Brad call. Don’t worry; I’m sure he will be very glad to help to straighten out whatever the problem is. He’s good at that.” She added, “Don’t be a stranger; we do need to be in closer contact with each other.

Saturday, September 20, 1980

Andrew picked up Neil at the WAC shortly after seven on Saturday morning. As they were driving Andrew extracted the oilskin packet from his inside coat pocket. “Here is Aunt Martha’s luggage,” he said as he handed it to Neil.

Neil looked at it carefully, it was clear that it had not been opened or disturbed in any way. He placed it in his own inside zippered jacket pocket which he securely fastened. “Thank you for keeping ‘her’ luggage safe. Perhaps someday…,” his voice trailed off leaving the thought unfinished. Neil was thinking of the road that George Kelshaw had traveled in order to deliver the information contained inside the packet to him.

Andrew studied him out the corner of his eye responding to the unfinished sentence. “No, there is probably too much in her luggage that I don’t want or need to know, but thanks for the thought anyway, Neil.”

At the Center they were met by Father Ben and Jim Savalza who had arrived early.

Father Ben greeted them warmly offering coffee, saying to Neil, “It pleases me you can see where Mr. Kelshaw spent his last hours,” as he directed them to his office where he had brought extra chairs,

After introducing Neil to Jim as ‘Evan Scott’, Andrew thanked Ben and selected a chair and settled in. Jim took a chair close to Ben’s desk and withdrew a notebook from his breast pocket and laid it on the corner of the desk beside him.

Father Ben suggested that Evan sit at his desk while he settled beside Andrew, and so they began; all looking at Scott expectantly.

“You will not hear anything from me that is considered to be classified , but I may say some things that are sensitive, so what we talk about here today should remain in this room. Can we agree on that?” Evan’s eyes focused on Jim and the notebook.

Jim nodded. “Yes, I for one understand and agree; but before we get started I need to know, is the government going to take over the investigation of George Kelshaw’s murder?” he asked, putting his notebook back in his coat pocket.

“For the moment it will be better to keep the investigation here in your office,” Evan replied. “There is more at stake than George’s murder, and so I will be in communication with you regarding your findings, if that is agreeable with you.”