Penance

A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY EXPERIENCES LIFE, LOVE, LARCENY AND DEATH IN 1962.

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CHAPTER ONE

The first time I saw Koutrakis, I was five years old. I was walking with my Dad on a bright Saturday afternoon. Dad had a big surprise in store for me. He told me I had to go to the Doctor’s office. I protested… I wasn’t sick. But Dad said I had to go, and when Dad said we had to go, we went… a five-year old’s protests don’t hold much weight. We left our apartment on 28th Street, and walked up Newtown Avenue on our way to Steinway Street. I was in “death-march” mode… going to the Doctor’s office meant suffering a huge needle in my ass more terrible than stabbing a wounded chicken with a harpoon. But there was another surprise waiting that Dad never anticipated.

Halfway up the first leg of the trip, Dad heard something in an alleyway that alarmed him, that he instinctively knew could endanger me. We both heard angry curses and crushing thuds and thumps mingled with the grunts and gasps of a dying man. Dad hurried me along to pass the alleyway, but we both caught glimpses of a horrible tragedy… a derelict crouched and cowering as a beastly assailant beat him mercilessly with a thick, heavy club. The assailant suddenly stopped when he sensed us passing by. The grunts and gasps had stopped, too. Dad shoved me a few feet ahead of him, and I saw a bulky shadow emerge as a huffing, puffing, big-bellied uniformed policeman, slapping a billy-club in his hand. Koutrakis was a beat-cop back then.

“Another goddamned bum sleeping it off in the alley,” the policeman said. “I gotta keep ‘em outta here for the sake of this neighborhood. Y’know?” Then, he looked down at me with penetrating eyes. “Hiya, Sonny,” he grinned and that grin frightened me. My father ignored him, collected me and we turned away. “Sonsofbitches are always litterin’ up my beat, y’know,” the policeman called after us and he issued a nervous chuckle to disguise that he’d just beaten some poor soul to death.

“You didn’t see that,” Dad said to me. When Dad said I didn’t see it, I didn’t see it. But I did see it, and it never left me.

The Regal Bar & Grill was just a few steps ahead. Tony, the owner, was on the sidewalk wiping his hands on his apron. “He got another one,” Tony said and my father nodded then shook his head in bewilderment. “Koutrakis is a disgrace to the police force and this neighborhood…,” Tony said. “He’ll pay for it one day.” Some of the neighborhood residents may have reported Koutrakis to the precinct in the past but nothing ever came of it. He seemed to have always been there, always seeking someone to pounce on.

Our journey continued until we got to the corner of Newtown Avenue and Steinway Street, where the Astoria Theatre stood. I looked up to see my father but he suddenly wasn’t there. I nearly panicked until I saw him standing at the box office of the Astoria Theatre, paying for two

tickets to see HONDO in 3D with John Wayne! It was the first movie I’d ever been to. There I was, seated next to my Dad, watching John Wayne in 3D in Warnercolor. And when the Indians thrust their weapons out of the screen, I went under the seat, and my old man laughed! “It’s alright,” he said. “It’s only a movie.” But that image of Koutrakis murdering an old bum wasn’t a movie, and his menacing gaze when he said “Hiya, Sonny” was etched in my mind, too, way down deep.

Astoria, Queens, New York was a good neighborhood in 1953… clean and safe. Not because guys like Koutrakis were so effective, but because of the people who lived in Astoria. Mothers could send their kids to the Greek Deli around the corner for bread or milk or cold cuts and never have to worry about us. People like Tony, owner of the Regal Bar, would keep their eyes open for us. Fathers could come home from work on payday and provide what was needed without too much concern about the bills because wages were decent and many employers knew that keeping employees secure kept businesses going. Wives and mothers worked, too, supplementing the household income for a little extra here and there. Prices in stores were reasonable. Mom-and-Pop shops were plentiful along Steinway Street and Astoria Boulevard. It was never perfect life, but it was sustainable, even agreeable to the people who lived and worked there.

We lived in an ethnically diverse universe… Irish, Italian, Greek, Polish, Cuban, Catholic, Protestant, Jewish… there were some African-American people living nearby whom I rarely saw, but none of that made a difference to the kids playing on the pavement. I had best friends and mortal enemies like any other kid in the world. I hated the brothers next door but we still played Stick-ball together in the middle of the street, with broom handles and “Spaldeens”. We killed each other with finger-guns and vocal sound effects as Cowboys, Indians, war-heroes and ‘bad guys.’ We made Saturdays our vacation days until our Moms called us in for dinner from second story windows and, if it was still light outside after dinner, we went out again for more games and adventures.

Most of the kids in the neighborhood went to Public School. When I was six years old, Dad decided my sister and I would get a better education by sending us to the Catholic School, just two blocks away. It was costly, but worth it Dad decided. My sister, Linda, was three years younger, so she had a three-year reprieve.

I started first grade at Our Lady of Lourdes Roman Catholic Church and Elementary School with a deep sense of dread. Just starting at any school was scary enough, but starting a school lorded over by black-draped nuns and imposing priests was a nightmare. There was the ‘old school’ on one side, for grades one-through-four. There was the freshly built ‘new school,’ big and tall and clean for grades five-through-eight. It had a gymnasium in the basement. The priests’ Rectory was in between, nestled at the bottom of a gently-sloped grassy hill. The entire campus took up a city block. Nuns were clad in morbid black and slapped wooden rulers as weapons in their hands. The priests wore black ‘dresses’ who occasionally came into our dungeon-like classrooms to warn little children of Hell’s dire torments should we stray from the Catholic God’s dictates. We had to wear uniforms (purchased directly from the Catholic School, of course) that made us look like the Pope’s Personal Youth Corps. There were endless Catechism lessons, mandatory prayers and frequent slaps on the back of our heads for even the slightest transgressions. And there was compulsory Sunday Mass in a mini-cathedral with a high ceiling, an ornate altar, sorrowful-faced statues, and gruesome stations of the cross on every wall. If the nuns found that you failed to show up for eight o’clock Sunday morning Mass, you were sentenced to any number of tortures and humiliations on Monday morning. All this while a detailed wooden image of the Crucified Christ stared down at us from high up near the ceiling.

After eighth grade, we were expected to be granted entry to a Catholic High School that was perhaps even more strict than we’d already known. But in the eyes of parents, going to a Catholic High School was very prestigious and a guarantee that their children would reach great heights in life. It was all kind of surreal… I hated all of it.

My one solace coming to and from Our Lady of Lourdes Roman Catholic Church and Elementary School was Steve. At six-years old, I befriended an old, physically impaired, tall, barrel-chested, Slavic man who stood with his cane, his plaid peaked cap and tattered coat on the corner of 28th Street and Newtown Avenue, leaning against the fence of an old house and lush yard. He leaned against that fence every day for as long as I can remember.

“Hello, Donny,” he’d say in a gruff, aging, heavily accented voice that was filled with warmth and kindness. I don’t even know how he knew my name… or how I knew his. “You go off to school today?”

“Yeah,” I’d answer in utter despair.

“Aw, school is good for you! You will learn such great things! Like the building of the pyramids of Egypt … like how trees and grass grows. Like the music of Tchaikovsky and the courage of George Washington!”

“All they ever talk about is God,” I remember complaining.

“God is a wonderful thing!” he proclaimed. “God created everything, like you and me and the green grass in this yard!” For eight years, almost every day, twice a day, going to and from Catholic School, I experienced his redeeming presence on that corner. “You must enjoy school, absorb it!”

As years passed and as I got older, I came to understand more and more of what he said. He made sense in a world I was actually afraid of. The brothers next door got meaner; the lessons at school got even more religious and the nuns got even more terrifying… not all of them. A few were good teachers, good people who didn’t whack you on the head if it looked like you weren’t paying attention. But Steve was always there to put a brighter spin on dull days.

In 1962, when I was almost fourteen, Dad decided it was time to move away from Astoria. Mom and Dad found an affordable house out on Long Island, in a housing development, where life was supposed to be better. It had green grass on a third-acre, with tall oak trees and a three-bedroom house in the center. Everything was cleaner, more spacious, safer… But it wasn’t better. It was just different. I had eventually gotten used to Catholic School, but it took a lot

longer than Mom and Dad ever expected for me to get used to ‘country-life.’ I was a city-kid, plopped down in the wilds. Country-kids went to public school with no dress-codes, no Catechism lectures, no compulsory Sunday church. Long, tiresome walks were required to find a store and any semblance of the city-civilization I had known. My heart was on 28th Street where life was familiar and convenient. I had no friends nearby… no Steve! It was summer, 1962 and I had a long and lonely summer vacation to deal with. So, I saved my money from odd jobs and went back to Astoria on the Long Island Railroad as often as I could.

My father didn’t think going back to the old stomping grounds was such a good idea. He anticipated that I would quickly adapt to the new country life and that wasn’t happening. Mom was patient with me. She always knew I was a little different from other kids, though. The other kids read Superman and Batman comics; I read the Classics Illustrated comic books… tales of Robinson Crusoe and Ivanhoe. I was a little smaller, kind of timid… I lost every fight I was ever goaded into. I wasn’t a sissy but I never really felt like I fit in. I was more aware, more cautious… sensitive might be the word used for me. It’s not a word I liked… sensitive spoke of weakness. My sister adapted easily enough. She was perhaps more open-minded, maybe even emotionally stronger than me. There were times I envied her strength. There were times when I caved in to depression because I was sensitive.

Each time I went back to Astoria on weekends and occasional weekdays, I saw gradual changes. Some of the kids were gone. Some of the old stores were new stores that were too unfamiliar and too uncomfortable for me to shop in. The Greek Deli was now a corporate-owned market. The Regal Bar was gone. The Projects were being built where foreign families lived. I didn’t know those people. They were different from the people I knew so well. I kept going back to the old neighborhood to find familiarities, some senses of my innocent days. I had turned fourteen-years old and my innocent days were falling behind me. It’s an awkward age, to be sure. I still needed to grasp the familiar to keep what little sanity a fourteen-year old ever had... buildings, faces, routines, sounds and smells.

I’d still see Koutrakis there though, finally a Detective, still a menace, still on the lookout for his victims. I remember him slapping that billy-club in his hand, but now the billy-club was just a larger factor of his authority and just as deadly as the day he murdered that old bum. He knew the neighborhood and most of the people in it, but his reputation as a bully hadn’t faded. Whenever he was seen, people avoided him, even if they needed help.

But Steve was still there, standing against the fence, the field of fresh cut grass behind him.

“Hello, Donny” he said in that gruff, kind voice. “How are you?”

“Good, Steve. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Fine…,” and he smiled broadly. “How do you like living in the country?”

“Not much,” I answered. “I see they’re not mowing this lawn very often.”

“Yes… A shame. I love the smell of fresh cut grass. What could be better?”

Perhaps nothing could be better than fresh cut grass… but since I was now mowing Dad’s lawn out on Long Island, I could have thought of better things. Then, Steve looked up and smiled at a woman walking beside a short, thin, sad-faced man of thirty-or-so. “Hello, Mrs. Snyder!”

“Hi, Steve,” she called back, and the little man walked up to Steve and stood silent and motionless.

“Ah, here is another friend of mine,” Steve said with a warm smile. “Donny, this is Joey.” Joey looked at me but said nothing. “Are you going to work, Joey?” Joey answered “Church… Confession.” He never smiled, turned and walked back to his mother and they continued down Newtown Avenue. Steve watched intently until Joey was well on his way. “Poor Joey,” he said. “He has a problem with his brain,” and Steve tapped the side of his head with his forefinger. “He doesn’t talk very much... and sometimes he becomes…very frustrated.”

I stayed and chatted with Steve for a while, then went about my business seeking out the familiar. It seemed kind of silly, even to me, to be seeking out memories of a place I’d so recently moved away from. But I still longed to see those places and faces, to stay connected to it all, as if I could be magically absorbed back into it.

I strolled down to 33st Street, to where my Mom’s cousin Evelyn lived, but she wasn’t home. I meandered further up to Broadway and turned left. I spotted Joey walking along Broadway and would have waved and said hello, but I didn’t really know him and he probably wouldn’t have remembered me. I saw two men in lightweight topcoats getting out of a car. Then, I saw a young man racing out of a liquor store. An older man raced out of the store, yelling, “He rob me! I been robbed!”

The two men in the topcoats immediately ran to the liquor store, then chased after the thief. When Joey saw the two men running toward him, he stopped, panicked and turned to run away. But the heavier topcoat-man caught up to him and slammed Joey to the ground, slapping Joey’s head and flailing arms. I heard Joey cry out. The man from the liquor store rushed up to them.

“Not him…! Not Joey…,” but Detective Koutrakis, kept hitting Joey and calling him a thief until the second man finally returned pulling the teenaged thief by the collar.

“Hey, Koutrakis! What the hell are ya doin’? I got the mug right here… Get off that guy!”

Koutrakis stopped hitting Joey. He stood up and I saw the same angry, beefy face I’d seen killing a bum in an alley years before. Joey had anger and meanness on his face, too, but he got up and ran down the street in the opposite direction.

“You know Joey never do anything wrong! You beat him for nothing!” the liquor store man complained.

“How the fuck was I supposed to know?” Koutrakis bellowed. Both men dragged the teenager to

their car and shoved him in. Koutrakis got in, too, while the other man went back to talk to the liquor store man.

I knew nothing about Joey. I knew very little about anything, honestly. But an intricate story evolved from that early summer day, and I can tell it to you in detail… now.

CHAPTER TWO

I saw myself back near Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church and School. Including the ‘new school’ playground, it was a complex that took up a whole city block. I knew the place very well and was glad my years there were behind me. In the courtyard between the church and the playground, Monsignior Arthur Keller strolled leisurely, enjoying the splendor of the flowers in the garden. Monsignior Keller had been at the church for a long time. He spotted Father Edward Tilton, dressed in sweatpants and sweatshirt, shooting hoops in the playground.

“Father Tilton! May I have a word?”

Tilton tucked the basketball under his arm and walked over to meet Monsignior Keller. “Of course, Monsignior.”

“Preparing for the game tonight?” the Monsignior asked.

“I just coach. I don’t play,” he smiled.

“Of course,” the Monsignior smiled. “But I’ll bet you were a whirlwind in your day.”

Tilton grinned proudly. “Won the team ball in our biggest game… back in Massachusetts.”

“Great state Massachusetts. I’ve attended many councils in Boston.”

“I’m from Bristol … but I studied at Our Lady of Grace Seminary in Boston.”

“Fine school. Very fine… Father Dobbs mentioned that you were late to say Mass last week.”

Tilton was instantly embarrassed. “Yes, I had quite a late night-before with the basketball team… We had a big win… It won’t happen again, sir.”

“I’m sure it won’t,” the Monsignior said. “You’re also in charge of organizing the Bingo games and raffles and such? Father Dobbs tells me you’ve been doing a fine job with those activities.”

“Yes, Monsignior. Thank you.”

“Tell me, Father, do you think those activities might be interfering with your… more spiritual duties here?”

“No, sir,” Tilton replied confidently.

The Monsignior pondered for a brief moment. “It’s important to maintain a fitting image for our people. How well do you know our parishioners?”

“Well,” Tilton began. “I’ve only been here three months…”

“I understand,” Keller said. “But you really must get to know our parishioners. Somewhat intimately, in fact. Understanding their problems, their needs… Some of them live under quite extraordinary circumstances.”

“Well, how would I do that?”

“Sometimes, we like to visit them, at their homes. We need to experience their environments, their lifestyles in order to better fulfill their spiritual needs. For example, there is a Mrs. Dougherty who lost her husband a few months ago. I’m quite fond of Mrs. Dougherty. The Dougherty’s were generous donors and ever since the passing of her husband, she’s been an integral financial supporter of our efforts to keep the church thriving. I’m sure she would appreciate a visit from our newest parish priest. I’d like you to pay her a visit …Tonight, as a matter of fact. It would do you both some good.”

“Tonight?” Tilton questioned with some alarm. “I’ve got a game tonight.”

“Oh, Father Dobbs can fill in for you.”

“But…”

Monsignior Keller would hear no protests. “It’s just a game, Father, and it would mean so much to Mrs. Dougherty …and to myself.” Father Tilton was left with no options. “I have to attend a conference in Baltimore. I’ll be leaving this afternoon, otherwise I’d go along to introduce you. Mrs. Dougherty is a lovely woman and I’m certain you’ll get along very well with her.” Tilton couldn’t go against his Monsignior’s insistence. Keller bade him good day and walked further along. Tilton went back to the playground. He slammed the basketball into the concrete. “Damn!”

Charlie Garch was the smallest of small-time hoods. He was a petty thief, a shoplifter… he even knocked over gumball machines for the pennies inside. Even the police weren’t all that interested in chasing him. But Detective Sergeant George Koutrakis was.

Koutrakis followed Charlie all the way across Astoria Park in the dark, right down to the East River. Charlie hid behind the large stanchion that held up the Hellgate Bridge. Koutrakis knew just where he was.

“I’m here, Charlie. Your old pal is here for a visit…,” he mocked. No pathetic, last-minute prayers could save Charlie now. Koutrakis taunted him in a terrorizing tone like a wolf teasing the next victim, softly and sweetly. “Come out, come out wherever you are…” Charlie jumped from behind the stanchion with his tiny pen-knife open and ready. Koutrakis just laughed. “You gonna stab me, Charlie, with that… You didn’t think old fat-ass Koutrakis could climb over that railing and over the concrete onto these rocks, did ya. But I did, I did… because I wanted to see ya.”

“You gonna shoot me?” Charlie was so terrified, his urine trickled on the rocks.

“You ain’t worth the bullet, Charlie.” Koutrakis picked up a rock and hefted it in his fist. “You know, Charlie, someone told me that the brain keeps workin’ even after the body dies. So, when I push your skinny little body into the river, you’ll still be aware that you’re drownin’, driftin’ down the river, dyin’.”

Charlie screamed pitifully at Koutrakis, knowing he was going to die… “What the fuck is wrong with you?!” Koutrakis began to move in closer.

“Wrong? With me? There’s nothing wrong with me, Charlie. It’s you, Charlie… Didn’t you ever see that movie with Brando?” And he mimicked Brando… “No, it was you, Charlie, it was you…” and suddenly Koutrakis smashed the rock into the side of Charlie’s head. Charlie fell to his knees, crying loudly, sobbing wretchedly. Then Koutrakis hefted the rock and soundly smashed it into Charlie’s skull. Satisfied with his work, he kicked Charlie’s body into the river and watched it drift away. He climbed back up over the rocks and concrete, then over the railing, got in his car and drove home, having gotten away with murder.

Tilton arrived at the Dougherty home just after seven. Mrs. Dougherty greeted him at the door of her Victorian-style home with some trepidation. “Can I help you?”

Tilton was quite reserved as he introduced himself and told her that he came on behalf of the church and Monsignior Keller. Visiting parishioners was not something he was used to and he was unsure and uncomfortable. She finally asked him inside.

“Monsignior was concerned that you were doing alright since the loss of your husband. If there’s anything we, at the church, can do for you…”

“No, thank you,” she said. “It’s been several months since Fred passed away. Our Lady of Lourdes provided a wonderful service for my husband. I’m very grateful. But there’s nothing I need …Would you like some coffee?” Tilton felt obligated and said yes. While she stepped into the kitchen, he looked through the window that overlooked the corner of 28th Street and Newtown Avenue, across a lush green lawn that needed mowing and an old brown fence. It was

not yet dark and the sight seemed so serene. Over coffee, the conversation was rather stilted. She asked about his time at Our Lady of Lourdes and he answered in brief responses. “I’ve only been there for three months.”

“Yes, I don’t remember seeing you at the nine o’clock Sunday Mass I attend,” she mentioned. Her tone seemed condescending to Tilton.

“I serve weekday Masses and maybe a later Sunday Mass. But I hear Confessions every Saturday… and I organize the Bingo and raffles and such…. And the basketball team.”

“Oh, you’re the one. I see,” she said and there was that tone again. The conversation continued to languish interminably and Tilton at last found a cue to exit. He thanked her for the coffee and told her that the church was always ready to assist her, then he said goodbye and stepped out into the night, relieved for an end of the experience. He took a roundabout way back to the Rectory and arrived by eight-thirty.

“That was quick,” said Father Dobbs.

“That was horrendous!” Tilton replied.

“Why? That old house too creepy for you?”

“Mrs. Dougherty was too creepy for me,” Tilton confessed. “From the minute I got there, I knew she didn’t like me… I knew she just didn’t want me to be there.”

“Some of our parishioners can be a little stand-offish.”

“Do you have to go out on calls like that?”

“Once in a while, when the Monsignior thinks it’s necessary. I only visited Mrs. Dougherty once, but I agree she’s like that old Mrs. Haversham in the Dickens story… Mrs. Dougherty donates a lot to the church building fund.”

“Building fund? What more could they be building? We’ve got a big church, the old school, the new school… What do they want now? A college and a Saint Francis of Assisi Memorial Petting Zoo?”

“I don’t know what the Diocese is planning on building unless they’re going to buy another city-block… I leave all that to Monsignior Keller. He takes care of the big money business and he keeps it all very hush-hush. By the way, where’s Mrs. Dougherty’s tithing envelope?”

“What tithing envelope?”

“She was supposed to give you an envelope full of money. A tithing donation.”

“She didn’t give me anything.”

“No envelope? I thought that was one of the reasons Monsignior sent you over there.”

“Maybe she forgot. She didn’t give me anything.”

“Yeah, maybe she forgot. Not to worry. Monsignior Keller will take care of it when he gets back.”

Joey’s home was a two bedroom, third-story apartment on 31ST Street, just a block or so away from the luncheonette where he worked, washing dishes and bussing tables. He shared it with his mother, Annie, a worn-down woman in her sixties who catered to every need for her mentally challenged son. She was a widow. She worked for a time as a seamstress until the company went out of business and there weren’t any jobs for her. The Welfare Department gave her assistance, but it was barely enough to cover rent and expenses and Annie always fell behind.

The daily routine was generally the same. In the morning, she’d awaken Joey, who was usually already dressed and ready for work or for Sunday Mass. Annie and Joey attended Sunday Mass faithfully. Afterward, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek and told him she loved him. His meager weekly paycheck was barely enough for food. Rent, electric and water bills were often left unpaid. At the end of the day, Joey returned from work, sat down in the living room and ate spare meals with Annie in front of the television set, watching Dr. Kildare or Hazel or whatever western show was popular… on Sundays, it was always Ed Sullivan.

But on the day when Joey came home early from work with bruises and a torn jacket, Annie was very upset. “What happened? Look at your face, and your jacket’s ripped…”

“I fell,” Joey lied to her. “In the kitchen at the luncheonette. I fell.”

“Well, let me get some mercurochrome. I’ll sew your jacket later…” Joey never mentioned being beaten up by Koutrakis. He had a deathly fear of policemen. His father was killed by policemen in a shootout on the New York City piers. He’d been involved in a robbery that went wrong. By the time Joey and Annie got to the scene, police were everywhere, as was Koutrakis who fired the fatal shot. Joey knew how his father died and from that day, he was terrified of cops. With the beating Koutrakis gave him, he had an even greater contempt and fear. Koutrakis could scare anyone to death.

“But I did give Father Tilton the envelope.” Mrs. Dougherty was insistent on the phone. “There was five-hundred dollars in cash in it.”

Father Dobbs was very perplexed. “Could he have mistaken it for something else?”

“I am not in the habit of slipping things into other people’s pockets, Father. He knew exactly what I gave him. This would never have happened if Monsignior Keller had come as usual instead of that basketball priest.”

Father Dobbs concluded the conversation as politely as he could. He wouldn’t believe Tilton had stolen the money, but Mrs. Dougherty was adamant. When Tilton entered the Rectory office, Dobbs virtually cross-examined him. “Maybe she forgot to give it to you! Could you have dropped it someplace?”

“Damn it, Bill. I didn’t drop something I never had!” Tilton insisted. Dobbs was upset.

“Okay, okay.” Dobbs shrugged and picked up the phone.

“Who are you calling?”

“The police.”

“Jesus! You can’t do that! I’ll get arrested!”

“I’ve got no choice, Ed. There was five-hundred dollars cash in that envelope. It’s got to be somewhere. The police will have to straighten this out… Hello? Let me speak to somebody who handles lost cash…”

CHAPTER THREE

Captain Bill Bednarz stood at his desk with Koutrakis seated before him. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I thought he was the perp!” Koutrakis barked back.

“You think everybody is a perp! For Christ’s Sake, Koutrakis! You beat up a retarded guy!”

“I thought he was the perp!” Koutrakis mumbled.

“You know that guy! He’s lived and worked around here for years…”

“So what,” Koutrakis argued. “Just ‘cause he’s retarded don’t mean he can’t be a thief!”

“That guy never does a damned wrong thing and you know it! He was just walkin’ down the street on his way to work when you attacked him, damned near beat him senseless. You been pulling this shit for years! You put a guy in the hospital last month with a cracked skull!” Bednarz was steaming.

“That guy was a thief!”

“That don’t make a goddamned bit of difference! You can’t go beating people up! It’s gonna catch up with you… with all of us. The whole precinct gets a black eye when you pull this shit! Every detective in the squad room thinks you’re a rogue cop! They want you gone, and I’m ready to pull your plug!”

“I get cases solved, dammit!” Koutrakis barked again.

“Yeah, but at what cost?” Bednarz leveled his gaze. “This is your last warning, Koutrakis. One more incident like this and I’m yankin’ your job and your pension.”

“Whaddya want me to do? Sit on my hands?”

“I’m taking you off homicide and all the heavy stuff…” Bednarz reached for some paperwork. “Here. I got a theft involving a priest. There’s the report. It’s lightweight, so don’t go making this out to be a John Dillinger thing. Take Negron.”

“Jesus Christ! Negron’s a halfwit! Why don’t you send the Boy Scouts for this penny-ante crap?”

“I’m sending you, and you better not screw this up with your Wild Bill Hickock shit. Last warning, Koutrakis. Remember it!”

Grumbling, Koutrakis left Bednarz’ office and returned to his desk. Detective Barnes came by to taunt Koutrakis. “Heard you collared a big one, Koutrakis. A retarded guy! Wow! You give him the third degree? Put him in the line-up?”

“Go fuck a duck, Barnes.” Koutrakis wouldn’t be riled.

“Who’s next, Koutrakis? The Singing Nun?” Barnes kept pushing and suddenly Koutrakis stood up.

“Your mother if she’s still turnin’ tricks in Astoria Park!” The words virtually spat out of Koutrakis’ mouth.

Barnes pulled his right hand back to roundhouse Koutrakis but some of the detectives in the squad room pulled him away in time. “You’re a sewer rat, Koutrakis,” Barnes shouted through clenched teeth. “One day, I’m gonna see you go down.”

“Come on, Barnes! I’m ready!” Koutrakis stood his ground with fists poised. Captain Bednarz could see the battle from his office but wouldn’t break it up. He half-hoped Barnes would beat Koutrakis to death.

Joey and his mother were walking up Newtown Avenue on their way to church on a Sunday morning. Steve was on the corner and gave them a friendly wave. “Late for church, Steve. Can’t talk now.” But Joey stopped and walked over to Steve and stood silently before him glaring angrily.

“What is it, Joey?” Steve asked but Joey didn’t respond.

His mother walked over and tugged at Joey’s sleeve. “Come on, Joey. We’re already late…”

But Joey turned and smacked her, violently, hard enough to cause her to stagger backward.

“Joey!“ Steve hollered.

“It’s okay, Steve,” Annie said. “He does this when he gets upset… The Super came up this morning and yelled at me about the rent… You know how it is.”

“Joey, apologize to your mother.” Joey said nothing, but his face returned to its usual solemn state. He turned to Annie, then took her hand gently.

“It’s alright, honey,” she said to him. “I understand… I’m sorry, Steve. He’ll be alright when we get to church. Goodbye.” And they hurried along.

Steve was very upset over the incident. He pondered it for a long time. The people he knew in this neighborhood were important to him. Many were immigrants from distant lands, like himself, some poor, all struggling. He understood these people and all the people who took time

greet him. He considered such greetings in any form to be little blessings that he collected on that corner of the neighborhood every day that he could savor through the long hours of the night. Steve was very disturbed by Joey outburst. When he saw Annie and Joey as they walked back from church, Annie smiled at him.

“Everything is alright?” Steve asked Annie.

“Oh, sure,” she said. “He was just upset over that Super business… It never happens as long as he doesn’t get so upset.”

“Joey,” Steve said with as much of a stern gaze as he could ever muster, “You be good to your mother. She’s a very good woman and she takes good care of you.”

**********************************

Koutrakis instructed Negron to gather information about Dougherty’s finances from Dougherty herself, and then go to her bank for further information. Mrs. Dougherty was indignant but gave Negron the data. Koutrakis had already interviewed Mrs. Dougherty who told the same story she gave to Father Dobbs over the phone the night before. He showed up at the Rectory without Detective Negron.

“You Father Tilton?’ Koutrakis asked.

“No, I’m Father Dobbs. Father Tilton is saying Mass. He’s almost done.”

“Can I come in?”

Dobbs opened the door wider and permitted Koutrakis’ entry. Mrs. Onorato, the housekeeper entered the foyer. “Oh,” she said. “I make coffee?”

“No,” Koutrakis answered. “I don’t want no coffee,” and Mrs. Onorato scurried away muttering in Italian. Dobbs gestured toward the dining room. “Would you like to sit down? He won’t be long.”

Instead of sitting, Koutrakis meandered around the room. “Nice digs. I didn’t think a church could afford a place like this… You made the call last night, right?”

“Yes. I felt we should turn this mystery over to the police.”

“Mystery? It ain’t no mystery. Either the priest has the money or the old lady still has it… Unless you got it.”

“No, Detective. I don’t have it. That’s why I called you people.”

“Okay… Uh, tell that Italian woman I would like some coffee, after all.”

Dobbs offered a mock-salute. “I’ll get right on it, your majesty.”

“Sergeant Koutrakis will do fine.”

Just as Dobbs was about to leave, Father Tilton arrived.

“Father Tilton, this is Sergeant Koutrakis, one of New York’s Rudest,” and he retreated to find Mrs. Onorato.

Tilton grinned. “Ah, the cavalry has arrived.”

“You Tilton?”

“Unless I’m Pretty Boy Floyd, yes, I’m Father Edward Tilton.”

“Clowns, eh,” Koutrakis said. “You that funny in church?”

“Look, Detective Whateveryournameis, I didn’t get any money from Mrs. Dougherty. I went there as a favor to Monsignior Keller to show her that the church would help her with her grief.”

“Whose Keller?”

“The boss. The head Honcho around here. Monsignior Keller usually collects Mrs. Dougherty’s donations.”

“He got the money?”

“No. He’s in Baltimore at a Catholic conference.”

“Then you got the money.”

“Wrong! I never got the money!” Tilton was getting annoyed while Koutrakis remained annoyingly calm. Dobbs returned. “Mrs. Onorato is making coffee.”

“I wanna look around. Where’s your room?” he asked Tilton.

“Upstairs. First door on the right,” Tilton answered flatly.

“Um, warrant?” Dobbs suggested.

“I can get a warrant, but either way I’m gonna look upstairs.”

“Let him look!” Tilton said. “There’s nothing up there but my rosary and dirty laundry.”

Koutrakis walked up the stairs with the priests following behind him. At the top of the stairs, he opened the first door on the right and looked around thoroughly. He opened the closet door, the

dresser drawers and even checked under the mattress. “You guys live kind of sparse, don’t ya,” Koutrakis noted.

“Vow of poverty,” Dobbs advised.

“The church? Poor? Don’t make me laugh.” Koutrakis moved further down the hall. “What’s in here?”

“My rosary and dirty laundry,” Dobbs said. Koutrakis opened the door, checked around, then moved to a third door.

“In here?”

“That’s Monsignior Keller’s room. No one’s allowed in there,” Dobbs said, but Koutrakis tried the door anyway. It was locked.

“This always locked up like this?”

“Yes. Especially when the Monsignior is away, like now,” Dobbs replied.

“What about the church?” he asked.

“For that, you need a warrant,” Dobbs told him.

“Don’t worry. I’ll get one.” Koutrakis stepped out of the room and headed back down the stairs. Mrs. Onorato was just setting up the coffee on the dining room table. Koutrakis brushed by her and left the Rectory. “No coffee?” she said softly.

Koutrakis met up with Negron at the luncheonette an hour later… the same luncheonette where Joey was clearing some tables. I was sitting at the counter having a coke after a long, thirsty walk around the neighborhood.

Negron made his report. “The bank says the Doughertys donated to the church and other charities for years. Almost all the donations were done by check. I saw the log. But every couple of months, Mrs. Dougherty withdrew pretty large amounts of cash as donations. The last withdrawal was the day that priest went to visit her.”

“The old lady’s got the money,” Koutrakis uttered.

“How do you figure that?”

“I don’t think the priest did it. He’s a wise-ass but no thief. Besides, he’s smart enough to know he’d get caught right away. Maybe she intended to give him the envelope with the cash but changed her mind and then lied about it.”

“Why?” Negron was confused.

“I dunno,” Koutrakis said. “Maybe the priest wouldn’t put out for her. Who knows? And I want to talk to this Monsignior guy. There might be more to this…” At that moment, Koutrakis spotted Joey bussing a table. He recognized Joey from the liquor store robbery. “Hey, you. Dummy. I need more coffee here,” he said loudly. As soon as I heard it, I turned to see how Koutrakis’ bullying would play out. Joey just frowned, severely. The head-waitress, Doris, had known Koutrakis for a long time and she didn’t like him. “His name is Joey and he don’t wait tables.”

“Then you get it.”

Doris turned to get the coffee but Koutrakis couldn’t let it go. “Hey, Dummy, we need more napkins over here.”

Without looking up, Joey picked up a napkin dispenser and brought it to Koutrakis’ table. He slammed it down hard enough to startle the two cops. Doris returned with the coffee. “Why don’t you lay off, Koutrakis?”

“What? The Dummy brought it, didn’t he? A little hard, maybe…”

“Because you piss him off… You piss everybody off. You’re a pig,” and Doris poured the coffee so hard that it spilled all over the table.

“The Dummy’s gonna clean this up, ain’t he?”

“You call him that one more time…” But before Doris could finish, Joey was mopping up the spill with a cloth. The frown was now an angry sneer on his face. Koutrakis stood up, checked to be sure no coffee had spilled on his clothes, then patted Joey’s head lightly and Joey cringed. “Good boy.” He dropped a couple of dollars on the table. “Keep the change.” He passed me on his way to the door and I shook a little. “What are you lookin’ at?” I quickly turned back to my coke. Then he and Negron left.

“That sonofabitch…” Doris muttered. “You don’t have to take that from him, Joey. Next time he comes in, just ignore him and go back in the kitchen.” Joey said nothing. The scowl was gone and he went back to his job as if nothing had happened. As if he wasn’t really a part of it.

I saw Koutrakis again that day. I was walking past Our Lady of Lourdes Church later in the afternoon, on my way to take a train to go back to Long Island. A car pulled up to the curb. Koutrakis got out and started walking toward the Rectory. He gave me a thoughtless glance and continued on, but then he turned and looked at me again. Shivers ran down my spine.

Just as I crossed Newtown Avenue, I saw Walter Breen. He and I had been pretty good friends when I lived on 28th Street. “Hey, Don,” he called. “What are you doin’ back here? Slummin’?”

“I come back once in a while, just to make sure none of you guys are in jail.” Walter laughed a little.

“How’s it going on Long Island?”

“Okay, I guess… It’s a lot different than here.”

“How come?”

“Well… the kids are different. Kind of snobby. And everything is so far from everything else. You gotta hike miles to get anywhere.”

“Any girls?”

“Skanks. But I really haven’t seen too many girls so far.” We talked for a few more minutes and I had to catch the train.

It was about six o’clock when I finally got home. Dad was working late, so it was just my mother, my sister and I at dinner.

“Did you see any of your friends today?” she asked.

“I saw Walter. We didn’t talk too much… I talked with Steve for a while.”

“He’s still standing on the corner? Poor man. Did you ever ask about him? About his family or anything or what happened to his leg to make him limp so bad?”

“He doesn’t say much about that stuff… He told me once that his wife died a long time ago, but that’s about it.”

Ever since I was six or seven, maybe even as young as five years old, I knew Steve. He was

always nice to me, even nicer than he was to other kids on the block… maybe because I was probably the only kid in the neighborhood who ever stopped to listen to him. The overgrown grass had just been cut. “I love the smell of fresh cut grass. Don’t you, Donny? It smells clean. You can almost hear it beginning to start growing again, right after you cut it… There was lots of grass and wheat where I come from, but we didn’t cut it like here. We used scythes, long poles with blades that we would swing against the tall grass… and then you could smell it, a rich, clean smell that filled the air around me…” His eyes would drift upward to heaven and he breathed deeply into his nose and released his breath with a sigh. It looked to me to be a sort of a ritual, or maybe a prayer. He’d smile and look back at me. His pleasant memory would somehow drift into my consciousness and I’d find myself smiling, too.

“I didn’t see anybody else,” I told Mom. But that was kind of a lie. I did see Koutrakis.

I rose early Saturday morning, did the chores Dad had laid out for me (“Clean your room, mow the lawn, and do whatever else your mother wants you to do before traipsing off.”) Then I hitchhiked up to the Long Island Railroad station to head back to Astoria. My first stop was to see Steve. As we stood and chatted, he spotted Annie Snyder and Joey. “Hello, Mrs. Snyder… Joey,” he called. “Hi, Steve,” she called back. “On your way to church?” “Yeah, we’re running late today,” she answered. “Gotta get to confession.”

“Aw,” smiled Steve. “You don’t commit sins so much.”

“Enough of ‘em, Steve. Enough of ‘em,” and she and Joey hustled along their way. Joey barely looked at us and kept in step with his mother.

“What happened to him?” I asked Steve.

“I don’t know for sure,” he said. “Something at his birth, I think. And, then his father… When Joey was about your age, his father was in a robbery and the police shot him dead. Joey saw his father lying there and he got very angry and began hitting a policeman until they pulled him away… Sometimes, he gets very angry.”

And then, a girl about my age came to us.

“Ah, my little Rosemary,” Steve said with a delighted grin.

“Hello, Steve.” she said in a shy, sweet voice that made my ears tingle and my eyes widen.

“Where are you off to?” Steve asked.

“Oh, Mom needs some eggs from the store.” Her voice could have driven me insane. When I looked at her, I swore I was peering through a veil that softened every feature of her face. Her figure was lithe and when her lips moved to speak, I imagined she was speaking only to me.

“Donny, this is Rosemary from up the block, near the church,” Steve said. I didn’t like the name ‘Donny’ anymore. It was too… juvenile.

“Hello, Donny,” she said. “Don,” I blurted out and she repeated my new name and smiled at me. There was no doubt at all in my mind: I was in love. “Do you live around here?” she asked.

“Yes… I mean no. I did, but I moved…”

“Donny lives out in the country, now,” Steve advised and I swore if he called me Donny one more time…

“Out on Long Island,” I said. “I used to live right up this street.”

“I’m surprised I never saw you before.”

“I went to Catholic School,” I answered sheepishly.

“Our Lady of Lourdes?” she asked and the way she said it was almost like a prayer. “I go there every Sunday.” I just nodded. “Well, I’d better get Mom’s eggs,” she said. “I hope to see you again… Don,” and she started walking up Newtown Avenue. My eyes followed her every step.

“I see a little stardust in your eye, Donny,” Steve said.

“Call me Don from now on.”

“Yes, Don,” he said with a grin.

I walked toward Our Lady of Lourdes Church and just hung around near the gate, hoping I might spot Rosemary coming back to her home. I wouldn’t dare speak to her, of course. I just wanted to see which apartment house she lived in with a plan to conveniently bump into her again sometime in the future.

I saw Koutrakis again while waiting near the church gate. He and Negron walked up the path to the Rectory but he didn’t see me.

“I got that warrant,” Koutrakis said to Father Dobbs. “For the church.” Dobbs came outside, fumbling with keys. “Father Tilton is hearing Confessions, so you’ll have to be quiet.” They walked to the side door of the church. I kept an eye out for Rosemary. A little while later, they came out of the church.

“Well, you didn’t find anything. Does that mean Father Tilton is off the hook?”

“We ain’t had a chance to really give anyplace a good tumble, yet,” Koutrakis said and he had a sly grin on his face. “We’ll get to it.” He and Negron returned to their car. Father Dobbs stood by the church for a moment with a disgusted look on his face. Father Tilton came from the side door and spotted the cops driving away.

“What did Sherlock Horrible want?”

“Searching the church. Said he’d be back… Look, for the last time, do you have any idea where that money went?”

“For the last time, no!” Tilton was visibly annoyed.

“I’m sorry to ask, but…”

“But nothing, Bill. I have nothing to do with Dougherty’s money. For all I know she’s either very forgetful or she’s lying.” He took a few frustrated steps in different directions, then headed to the basketball court in the playground. He was obviously troubled over the investigation. “I

got practice. I’ll see you later.” Just as Tilton was leaving, Joey and his mother were exiting from the front of the church. Joey spied me hiding near the gate. He looked at me with a very sad look, … as I thought about it, he had that sad look on his face every time I’d seen him. I couldn’t really imagine that he ever smiled. I dared to step from behind the gate to wave and smile at him, but he just turned away and followed his mother… And then I saw Rosemary at the door to her apartment building so I ducked back behind the gate. I prayed she hadn’t seen me, but at least I found out where she lived.

For the rest of the day, I walked around the neighborhood, managing to pass Rosemary’s apartment house several times but I didn’t see her. I saw a couple of the kids I knew and we talked about things like what had been going on with them and what living on Long Island was like. I saw Steve once more before heading for the train station.

“You liked her. Eh?” he said.

“Yeah, she was okay,” I answered without looking him in the eye.

“She’s a very pretty girl,” he said. “And very nice… polite.”

“Yeah, she’s okay.”

“I think you’ll see her again, Donny.” Stop calling me Donny, I thought, but I couldn’t say that to Steve.

“Young man! Young man!” Mrs. Dougherty called from her front door. I looked up and saw her beckoning to me. Steve turned to see her. “I think she wants you, Donny.”

I walked to her front gate. “Can you come here, please?” and I walked up the path to the door that opened into her large, Victorian-style house “Would you like a job,” she said.

“What kind of job, ma’am?”

“My gardener has just quit. I was wondering if you would like a job cutting my lawn once a week. The job pays $6 and I’ll pay you each time you finish, for the entire summer. You don’t have to concern yourself with the flowers. I’ll tend to them. I prefer that you cut the grass on Saturdays, but I’ll leave that up to you… You’re not Jewish, are you?”

“No, ma’am,” I stammered. “Saturdays are fine, and $6 is fine, too.”

“Good. You can start next Saturday. The lawnmower is in the shed in the back of the house. Just knock on the door when you’re through and I’ll pay you. See you next Saturday.” She turned and disappeared behind the door before I could say anything else. I returned to Steve.

“Looks like you’ll be smelling fresh cut grass that I’ll be cutting.” He congratulated me and I went on my way to the train station.

I sat down to dinner with my family that evening and was thinking of a way to tell my parents the news.

“What did you do in the city today, Don?” my father asked.

“Oh, I saw Steve and a couple of the guys…”

“Anything new back there?” but I didn’t think Dad was really interested.

“No, not much. Same old stuff… I… I met a girl…”

“Oh, do we know her?” Mom asked.

“I don’t think so. Her name’s Rosemary. Steve introduced us.”

“You going to ask her out?” Dad asked. “It’s kind of a long-distance relationship.”

“I’m not sure yet… And I got a job.”

“A job?” Dad looked a little alarmed. “What do you mean you got a job? Where?”

I told them how it happened but Dad was less than happy with the idea. I told him it was only for the summer and that I’d get paid every time I did the work and he eased into the idea a little. Then my eleven-year old sister chimed in. “Can I borrow some money?”

CHAPTER FOUR

Joey was watching TV and Annie was just about to bring dinner into the living room when a knock came at the door. “Just a minute,” Annie called out and hustled to answer it. Mr. Watson, the superintendent, was standing there.

“What is it, Mr. Watson?” but Annie already knew.

“You know it’s about the rent, Annie,” he said.

“Next week…”

“You can’t keep puttin’ it off! Last week it was next week, just like the week before that. Come on, Annie. I’m sick of havin’ to come up here chasin’ you for the rent every month.”

“I’ll have it next week,” she insisted. “Just another week.”

Watson drew a breath and let out a long sigh. “You’re already behind a full month. I’ll give you a few more days and then I gotta throw you out.”

“One week,” Annie assured him. “I promise.” Watson turned and left. Annie went back to the kitchen, completely disheartened. Joey had heard most of her conversation but said nothing as Annie served dinner, but that frown was back.

Koutrakis was seated in Captain Bednarz’ office. “For my money, the priest didn’t do it. I say the old lady never gave him any money.”

“Keep workin’ it,” Bednarz said.

“What for? The old lady stole her own money! There’s no case here,” Koutrakis argued.

“Find out for sure.”

“You’re boggin’ me down here for no reason. I could be doin’ some good with a real case!”

“You’ll do what I tell you, Koutrakis.”

Koutrakis got up and started out of the office. “You’re wastin’ Negron’s time, too.”

“Out!” Bednarz shouted and Koutrakis left, muttering “Jesus Christ…!”

On the basketball court, Tilton was coaching his team when Dobbs walked across the playground. “Monsignior Keller just called. He’ll be in Baltimore for a few more days.”

“Are they deciding that Heaven is actually a suburb of Philadelphia?”

“Isn’t it?” Dobbs joked.

“Hey, can you take Confession tomorrow? I gotta get these kids in shape for the game.”

“This is becoming a habit,” Dobbs said. “Basketball is not the reason we’re in business.”

“I know, I know,” Tilton pressed. “This game is important to them. They want to win really bad…”

“Last week you missed a night Mass because of Bingo! I’m tired of filling in for you. When are you going to take your job here seriously?”

“Alright, no lectures. Please. Forget I asked you.”

“I will, damn it!” Dobbs walked away angrily.

Saturday was my first day on the job at Mrs. Dougherty’s. Steve was on duty at the fence to coach me on. I hoped that Rosemary would stop to talk with him again so she could see me hard at work on the lawn, muscles bulging, pushing a hot gas-powered lawnmower, determination firm upon my brow. When I opened the door to the shed, my imagination suffered a blow. The mower was an ancient, rusty push-mower and that meant the job would take a lot longer and a lot more perspiration. I wouldn’t look so attractive with my clothes soaked in sweat and my face as red as a cut-open watermelon. “Go to it, Donny,” Steve called out, so I got to it.

I was halfway through with the withering task when Rosemary, indeed, showed up to talk with Steve. I tried not to be too noticeable but I know she saw me in all my bedraggled glory. I wanted to dive into the flower bed. And then, Koutrakis appeared on the corner, as if out of nowhere. I stopped mowing.

“This old fart botherin’ you, girlie?”

Rosemary looked stunned. “No!” she said firmly. Koutrakis closed in on Steve.

“Your name’s Steve-somethin’, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” Steve replied with a great of sense of dignity. His voice didn’t waver at all. “What do you want here?”

“I’m a cop,” Koutrakis growled. “I don’t like geezers like you talkin’ up little girls.”

“Steve and I are friends,” Rosemary said very firmly. “He’s not bothering me… You are.” She was impressive, standing up to a cop in defense of her friend. At that moment, I should have gone over to stand up for him, too, but I stayed by the lawn-mower.

Koutrakis saw Annie and Joey coming up the street. “Hello, Mrs. Snyder. Hello Joey,” Steve called to them.

“Hi, Steve,” Annie called back, but when Joey caught sight of Koutrakis he scowled and stopped walking. “Come on, Joey!” Annie said as she ushered him along. “We’ll be late for Confession.” Joey switched to walking on Annie’s street-side and kept a close eye on the cop.

“Mama’s boy, eh,” Koutrakis noted. He turned back to Steve. “I think you might be a pervert.”

Steve said nothing but stared back into Koutrakis’ eyes with brave defiance. “I’m watchin’ you, old man,” Koutrakis grumbled and he got back in his car.

I pushed the mower toward the fence. I dismissed how I might look to Rosemary now. It seemed more important to show her that I stood with my friend. “Hello, Rosemary,” I managed to say.

“Did you see that guy?” she complained.

“Yeah, I saw him. I’ve seen him around here before.”

“You two don’t worry about him,” Steve said. “He’s a bully. He means nothing.”

“You’ve been working hard,” Rosemary said to me.

“I’m working for Mrs. Dougherty on Saturdays… just cutting the lawn.”

“And he does excellent work,” Steve added. “You see how even the rows are? And smell that fresh cut grass…”

“It looks good and it smells good,” Rosemary said. “You’re keeping the neighborhood beautiful, Donny.” (Why couldn’t my parents have named me Irwin or Clyde?)

“Well,” Rosemary said. “Maybe when you get through I can buy you a soda. You look like you could use one.” My tongue wouldn’t work. I could almost feel my teeth sinking back into my gums.

“That’s a wonderful idea,” Steve said. He pulled a dollar from his pocket and gave it to her. “You go get the sodas and I’ll hurry up the master grass-cutter… Go, go, both of you.”

I finished mowing as quickly as I could, then collected my pay from Mrs. Dougherty and asked if I could use her bathroom to clean up. “There’s a hose near the shed,” she told me and shut the door behind her. When I was through washing with the hose, I dashed through the gate and to the corner, but Steve was no longer there. Rosemary arrived minutes later with a couple of cold cokes and we walked down Newtown Avenue toward her apartment house.

“I hope I don’t smell too sweaty,” I said.

“You’re fine. My father smells like that sometimes when he gets home from work. He’s a mason.”

“My Dad just got a job as a car salesman.”

“That sounds like a cool job… How do you like living in the country?” she asked.

“It’s okay, I guess,” was my reply. “But I’d rather be here. My friends are here and I’m used to it.”

“I grew up here, too… well, a few blocks from here. We moved to this apartment a couple of months ago. But we always went to this church.”

“I never saw you.”

“Do you go this church?”

“Not since we moved. I always had to go to eight o’clock Mass on Sunday ‘cause I went to the Catholic school there. If I didn’t show up, I caught hell from the nuns on Monday morning.”

“I go to PS7.”

Just as we passed the steps to the church, I saw Joey waiting by the gate while his mother was talking to Father Dobbs.

“If the church could help at all, Father” Annie told him, “the rent is already past due and I just don’t have any money.’

“I… I don’t think we have the resources, Mrs. Snyder. We’re a poor church,” Dobbs fumbled. “As soon as Monsignior Keller returns, I’ll talk to him. Maybe he can talk to your landlord or the City…”

“Whatever you can do, Father…Thank you,” and she turned and walked down the church steps.

Joey was staring at us. I raised my arm to say hi and he sort of waved back. As I looked at his face and into his eyes, I felt he was signaling for help. I decided it was time to talk to him. “Hello, Joey”, I said but he made no response. His mother came down the steps and whisked Joey away.

“Do you know that man?” Rosemary asked.

“Not really,” I answered. But I felt that I wanted to know him.

CHAPTER FIVE

Annie had seen tough times throughout her life. She grew up in the Depression (like my folks), lost both parents at an early age, had been abused by men, married a thief who was shot to death, gave birth to her beloved son Joey who was born with severe brain defects. She managed in the best ways she could, with help from the New York City Welfare Department and any job she could find. It was never enough and debt and need plagued her right into her sixty-second year. On a Thursday evening, awaiting Joey’s return from work, her difficult life came to an end. While preparing another meager meal, she clutched her chest, grabbed her rosary tight in her hand, she issued a weak and desperate moan, and fell, dead on the kitchen floor.

Joey stepped into the apartment a little while later and listened for his mother’s familiar greeting. When it didn’t come, he quietly stepped into the kitchen and saw Annie on the floor. There was no warm smile for him, no kiss, no reprieve for Joey. Ma was gone. All that was left were tears, wailing, and a great dark hole in his life that closed around him like a permanent night. He knelt beside her for hours inside that dark hole until finally that dark hole engulfed him.

“I don’t know how to wrap this thing up!” Koutrakis was complaining loudly to Negron. They were in the same luncheonette having lunch. “I can’t arrest the old lady for stealing her own money!”

“May be the priest did do it,” Negron said. “Arrest him and see how it plays out in court.”

“There’s no fuckin’ evidence! …He didn’t steal the money.”

“How do you know?”

“I know, that’s all. The old lady kept the cash.”

Doris came to the table with more coffee. “Where’s the dummy?” Koutrakis crudely asked.

“Joey’s mother died. He’s out for a few days… You want to wash dishes, Koutrakis?”

“So what now? He goes to an institution, huh.”

“No, you bastard! … I dunno… I’d take him in myself if I didn’t have three kids and a good-for-nothin’ husband.”

“You should have hooked up with me, Doris. I got a steady job,” and he gave her a smirk that

made Doris sick. She walked away from him as fast as she could and his eyes leered after her.

“She wouldn’t make a bad piece of ass if it wasn’t for her attitude.”

Watson banged on Joey’s door several times over the next few days but no answer came. “Sonofabitch,” he mumbled and walked away. Inside the apartment, in Annie’s bedroom, Joey sat silently on the bed, staring into the black nothingness he believed had swallowed him. Her few treasures were neatly displayed on the walls and her dresser… photos, mementoes, her rosary. He caught sight of the rosary and thought not even God can help.

**********************

“You heard from Koutrakis?” Tilton asked of Father Dobbs.

“Nothing.”

“Well, am I off the hook, or what?”

“I don’t know. The whole thing is ridiculous.”

“When is Keller coming back? He should know how to straighten this thing out. He knows Dougherty better than we do.”

“He’ll be in Baltimore for a few more days… I wish we could straighten this out before he gets back.”

“Look, Mrs. Dougherty” Koutrakis was speaking impatiently, “If you forgot to give him the money, that’s okay…”

“I told you. I gave him the money. He stole it. Arrest him and leave me alone.”

“I don’t think he has the money.”

“Then you haven’t searched thoroughly enough. He’s hidden it somewhere. Do your job and find it!”

I was just finishing the lawn when I saw the two detectives coming out of the Dougherty house. Once again, Koutrakis gazed at me but said nothing and continued down the walk to his car.

Steve was on the corner and Koutrakis gave him a once-over look, too. I washed up, went to the front door to get paid and met Steve on the corner as Koutrakis was pulling away.

“That man is evil,” Steve said.

“Well, I don’t like him but I don’t know if he’s evil.”

“There was a man in my village,” Steve explained. “He seemed to be everywhere, always watching, looking for something to pounce upon. He always looked at me when we passed, staring at me as if he was sure I had done something wrong, but I hadn’t. Then, one day, the

Germans came into my village and that man was with them, leading them. He didn’t wear a uniform like the others, just his same clothes, but he was leading them, pointing to houses and places and speaking in hushed tones to the uniformed man beside him. Soon after, people were arrested. Sometimes, some of them came back, and sometimes, others never came back. But the ones who came back were never the same. Evil had come to our village… That man…” Steve heaved a mournful sigh. “Believe me,” he said finally. “That man is evil.”

“I’m taking Rosemary to the movies today,” I said, hoping to steer the subject from Steve’s memory. “Safe At Home. It’s got Mickey Mantle and Roger Maris.”

“Oh! Baseball!” he said with surprise. “You are a baseball fan, now?”

“No, not really. But Rosemary loves Mickey Mantle.”

“Well, he’s a big hero. She’ll like the movie, I’ll bet.”

“I hope so. I wanted to see Ride the High Country with Randolph Scott, but she doesn’t like westerns much.”

“Mickey Mantle is much better than cowboys for a date. Trust me.”

I did trust Steve. Sometimes I thought he said things that were too old for me to understand. But sometimes he said things that made me think, like about Koutrakis being evil. I didn’t know much about the war that Steve had lived through, and he rarely even mentioned it. But I never doubted that he knew what he was talking about. There was truth, reason, in his voice.

My father was like that, too. He served in the Navy in the Pacific, at battles like Pelelieu and Okinawa… he was even at Iwo Jima. But he rarely talked of the war. I guessed it was just too disturbing for him to talk about. I could sometimes see turbulence in his eyes. Yet, Steve’s rare recollections were different… more personal, it seemed.

The movie stunk. Even Rosemary agreed. Mantle and Maris were great ball-players, but they’d never make it in Hollywood. We stopped for a soda as she walked me back to the train station. She climbed the stairs with me up to the platform and waited with me for the train. And just as the train was coming to a stop, I suddenly felt a wild, unexpected courage burst within me… I leaned forward to kiss her. And she took the kiss with tenderness, innocence and willingness. I kept my hands at my side but she placed her hand on my cheek. My chest pounded louder than the screeching of the wheels of the train as it came to a stop. When our lips parted, she smiled warmly, as if we’d each given one another a precious gift. The kiss lingered with me all the way home.

It was late in the evening when Watson banged on Joey’s door again. “Come on, for Christ’s Sake, open the fuckin’ door!” The door opened a crack and Joey peered through. “I gotta check for damage to the apartment so I can show it to some people who want to rent it.” Joey tried to block the door but Watson pushed his way inside. Joey followed him closely. Watson stood in the doorway to Annie’s bedroom.

“This the old lady’s room?” and he stepped inside. Joey became visibly upset that Watson was violating Annie’s room. That scowl grew over his face again. “Looks clean enough. You’ll have to get all this shit outta here when they evict you and that happens in three days.” Joey tried to push Watson out of the room. “Hey, what the hell are ya doin’? Corporate says I gotta check things out!” Joey managed to push Watson back toward the kitchen. “This ain’t my idea, y’know. Corporate wants it done, thorough. The old bitch shouldda come up with the rent.”

“Don’t say bad things,” Joey growled through grinding teeth and pushed Watson again.

“Jesus! You really are off your rocker! Look, I don’t care that your old lady kicked the bucket. I just do what Corporate tells me.” Joey pushed him again. “Knock it off, ya crazy sonofabitch!”

“Don’t say bad things!”

“That crazy mother o’ yours really raised a looney!” Joey had enough. He reached without looking to the counter and felt a large pair of scissors at his fingers. He picked them up and raised it over Watson’s head. “Get the fuck away from me!” Watson shouted and Joey plunged the scissors deep into Watson’s chest. Watson’s eyes popped wide and he gurgled a silent scream. Joey pulled the scissors out and plunged again. Then again, all the while muttering “Don’t say bad things!”

Monsignior Keller stepped into the Rectory, greeted by Mrs. Onorato.

“Oh, Monsignior! You home! You have good trip?”

“Hello, Mrs. Onorato. Yes, very nice. Where are the Fathers?”

“Oh, they have such trouble. Such trouble.”

“Trouble? … What sort of trouble?”

“With policemen,” she replied. “I get. I get,” and she ran out to the side door of the church.

Keller put his bags down and sat at the dining room table. “How much trouble could they get into? They’re priests, for God’s Sake…” Within minutes, Dobbs came into the Rectory.

“Well, welcome home, Monsignior…”

“What’s all this about trouble?” Keller was visibly concerned.

“Oh, it’s not bad…” he began. “Father Tilton went to see Mrs. Dougherty, like you told him but he didn’t come back with the tithing donation…”

“He didn’t get the donation…!?”

“She might have forgotten to give it to him or he may have dropped it… Anyway, I called the police just to get it straightened out and they sent this bull over to investigate. I’m sure everything will be fine.”

“There was $500 in that envelope…” Keller exclaimed. “Where’s Father Tilton now?”

“Setting up for Bingo in the old school basement.”

“Get him. I want to talk to him immediately.”

Mrs. Onorato was just steps ahead of Tilton as they came in. “Welcome home,” Tilton said but Keller stepped up to him quickly.

“What’s all this Father Dobbs told me? What have you done with Mrs. Dougherty’s donation?”

That angered Tilton.

“Nothing! I never had Dougherty’s money! Why does everybody think I stole it?!”

“Well, then, where is it?”

“How the hell should I know?” Tilton shouted, scaring Ms. Onorato out of the room. “I make coffee,” she muttered and rushed away.

“She forgot to give it to me,” Tilton shouted again. “Or she’s lying about it! I don’t know what happened to the money, and frankly I don’t give a damn anymore. Now excuse me, I’ve got to set things up…”

“Just a moment,” Keller said sternly. “We’re not done here…

“I am!” Tilton insisted. “As a matter of fact, I’m done with the whole damned mess! You should never have sent me to Dougherty in the first place. If she was supposed to give me money, you should have told me. She never needed coddling with her grief. She wasn’t grieving at all. She needs a banker, not a priest, and I’m not that kind of priest!”

“What kind of priest are you, Father Tilton?” Keller’s question was truly an accusation.

Tilton’s shoulders sagged. “I… don’t know,” he murmured.

Dobbs stepped between them. “This has been a traumatic time, Monsignior. I think Father Tilton needs to collect himself.”

“I think Father Tilton has a good many things to think about,” Keller said and he headed for the stairs to his room. Dobbs gazed at Tilton in a commiserating silence for a moment, then turned and left the Rectory. Tilton leaned against a chair and tears welled in his eyes. His grip on the back of the chair might have crushed it if he’d had the strength of his rage, but the misery in his heart was too strong.

As soon as he unlocked his door and sat at his desk, Keller made a phone call from his private line.

It was late and the church was almost completely dark. Tilton knelt in a pew close to the altar.

His lips were moving to the faintest of whispers, but he was not praying... not truly. “You prayed to Your Father to take this cup from You. Will you take this cup from me? This cup that I thought you called me to… this priesthood? I don’t think I should be here, serving You, serving Your people. I… I just don’t hear You anymore… Please, speak to me… Dear God, I need you to speak to me…”

CHAPTER SIX

Rosemary and I walked through Astoria Park on a particularly cool day for July. We passed the Astoria Pool… too chilly a day for most people to be swimming. We strolled down the lawn to the street that ran alongside the East River and under the Triboro and Hellgate Bridges. On a clear day, like that day, you could pretty clearly see the New York City skyline.

“What will we do when school starts?” she asked and I had no answer… I hadn’t thought about school or where she lived and where I lived or how soon September would be. “How will we see each other?”

“I… don’t know…”

“I don’t want to not see you,” she said and there was almost a tear in her voice.

“I’ll see you, on weekends.”

“Oh, we’ll both get busy with school stuff… sports or clubs or something. We’ll drift apart.”

I thought about it for several minutes and she was right. “We’ll think of something,” I said and then I did think of something. “My Mom has a cousin who lives on 33rd Street. Maybe I could stay with her and go to your school.”

“What about your parents?”

“I don’t know, but I can ask them… I’ll ask my Mom’s cousin first. If she says it’s okay, that might help.” It was a solution to keep the day bright for us… Well, it was an idea, anyway.

When I got home, I mentioned Rosemary again to my Mom. It was part of the buttering-up process. “She sounds like a very nice girl,” Mom said. Dad was going to be the real test. At dinner, I spoke of Rosemary again. “That’s nice,” he said between mouthfuls of hamburger. “Kind of far away, though, isn’t she?”

“I was thinking about going to school back in Astoria.”

“You’re crazy,” Dad said flatly.

“Why not? I don’t like being out here and I could stay with Aunt Evelyn...”

“Who’s Evelyn?” Dad said and Mom answered.

“She’s my cousin on 33rd Street. The older one. Remember, she married Bill Birch who worked for the railroad.”

“No,” Dad said.

“Oh, sure you remember…” Mom said.

“I meant no, you can’t move back to Astoria.” My sister, Linda, started to giggle but Mom gave her a sharp glance and Linda got quiet.

“I already spoke to Aunt Evelyn and she said it would be okay…”

“No,” Dad repeated just a little more firmly.

“But, Dad…”

“No! You’ve got a good home here, school starts soon…”

“I don’t even have any friends here…”

“If you’d stop jackassing back and forth to the city all the time, you’d make some friends!” Dad was losing patience early. Linda saw it building and stifled the hint of a smile. The dinner table was about to become a war zone. One more objection could get me a crack in the mouth.

It wasn’t that my parents were mean or that my father was ill-tempered. Dad and Mom both worked their tails off to give Linda and I the best they could afford… the best school, the best home and environment. Both of them were caring, understanding parents. Both had grown up under rotten circumstances, poor and always working too hard to achieve better lives. And it wasn’t that I was ungrateful. I was just… unhappy.

Dad came up to my room sometime after dinner. “I’m sorry I yelled at you,” he said. “I just think you’d be happier here if you gave it more of a chance.”

“I really liked it better in Astoria, Dad,” I said.

“I know it’s different. We’ve all had to adjust, but you’ve to give it more of a chance… Look, I know you like this girl, but you’ll meet girls out here. Believe me. You’ll make friends. You’ll get by just fine. Okay, pal?”

He was right, of course. No matter how I felt about Rosemary and the familiar surroundings of Astoria, I knew it all had to pass. I knew one day I’d have new friends and meet another girl. I knew all that in my head. But my fourteen-year old heart was taking a beating.

I stuck it out at home on Long Island for a couple of days, testing Dad’s theory. I tried to make friends with the country kids but it didn’t go well. One of them was a big, chubby bully named Thomas who told me very threateningly to “Fuck off.” So, I did. On the third day of my self-imposed exile, I took the train back to Astoria. Steve was delighted to see me. Rosemary was head-over-heels!

We went to the movies and tried to get in to see The Music Man but it was sold out so we saw Requiem For A Heavyweight instead. “No horror movies,” she said. “No horror movies,” I agreed… “they scare me, too.” It wasn’t a horror movie but it certainly wasn’t a movie for our age group. It touched us both kind of profoundly. Rosemary cried by the end. I felt deeply saddened by it. I guess that’s why I didn’t talk much as I walked her home.

“It’s sad that people get discarded like that,” she said. “Like they did to Anthony Quinn’s character in the movie… Like Steve. He’s old and crippled and alone. How could people just forget about him? Just used up and forgotten about.”

I had no answers, but I thought about Steve and about Joey. Somehow, life wasn’t fair to them.

I couldn’t shrug that off. Life is unfair, but why is it more unfair to some people more than others.

After saying goodbye to Rosemary, I saw Steve still standing by the fence, leaning there alone, left to his memories. I stopped to say hello to him and he told me how sad he felt for Joey because his mother had died. “What will happen to Joey now?” he murmured and then he silently asked aloud to the sky. I had no answer. I could offer no help, not to Joey… not even to Steve.

**********************

I returned to Astoria on the following Saturday to mow Mrs. Dougherty’s lawn and get yet another dose of looking back on Astoria. Koutrakis was at Dougherty’s house, still investigating ‘the case of the missing money.’ Detective Negron was waiting in the car and he waved in a friendly manner when I passed him. He seemed like a nice enough man. Koutrakis was just coming out of the house when Mrs. Dougherty called to me. “Don, would you take this bucket of trash to the cans in the back for me?” I took the bucket and started to the back of the house at the same time Koutrakis was walking to the gate. A piece of paper blew out of the bucket and Koutrakis picked it up. “Don’t litter, kid, or I’ll bust ya,” he joked in his sadistic way, and then he looked at the paper. It was an envelope with some printing on it. I held out the bucket for him. “No,” he said. “I’ll hang on to this,” and he stuffed the envelope into his pocket. I shrugged and went about my business.

Koutrakis went back to the car and showed the envelope to Negron, then he got out and walked back to Steve.

“You know any people who come to see old lady Dougherty?” he asked Steve.

“No,” Steve replied abruptly.

“No, huh?” Koutrakis said with a grin. “You wouldn’t tell me if you knew, would ya.”

Steve sort of grinned back. “No, I would not.”

“Okay, wise-ass. But someday I’m gonna catch you chattin’ up some little girl and I’ll bust ya

for the pervert I figure you are.”

Steve smiled and tipped his plaid cap as Koutrakis returned to his car.

At the precinct, Captain Bednarz called for Detectives Barnes and Willis. “We got a murder over on 31st Street. Tenant reported a bad smell coming from one of the apartments… 3A. A uniform found a guy in the kitchen with a big pair of scissors in his chest. Cop said he looked like

chopped meat. Information’s on the call sheet. Cop’s still on the premises. Get goin’.”

Joey saw the police cars and cops near his apartment and he knew he couldn’t go home. Neither could he go to work… the cops were sure to have gotten there, too. He hid in places all over Astoria. Then he remembered the church and stealthily found his way there. The church was empty and he slipped into one of the pews and crouched low. It was Saturday and Confession wouldn’t start until one o’clock. Father Tilton came into the church to get ready. Joey heard his footsteps. He peeked out from the pew and saw the priest coming his way. He suddenly stood up.

“Jesus!” Tilton cried out. “You damned near scared the shi…” and he stopped himself. “You almost scared me to death… What can I do for you?”

‘I… I… gotta say… Confession…” Joey stammered.

“Confession’s from one to four. Come back later,” Tilton said.

‘I… I…gotta say Confession…” Joey repeated.

“What did you do? Assassinate the President?”

“I… gotta say Confession…” Joey insisted. Tilton sat down in the pew in front of Joey.

“Alright. Sit down. Let’s have it,” he said with very little real interest. Joey sat in the pew but said nothing. He pointed to the Confessional and Tilton grew annoyed. “Come on! Right here is fine. No one can hear you but me.” But Joey kept pointing. In his mind, he had to do this absolutely right, just as his mother had taught him. “Alright. Let’s go.” Tilton resignedly led Joey to the Confessional they both got inside. Tilton dispensed with the usual priestly remarks in Latin. Joey knelt and clasped his hands very fervently.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned…” and Joey stopped.

“Well, keep going,” Tilton urged.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned…” but Joey couldn’t seem to go on. His mouth opened to speak but he couldn’t force the words.

“Okay, fella,” Tilton said rising. “That’s enough. This one of Father Dobbs’ jokes?” He got out of the Confessional and left the church agitated. Joey remained kneeling with tears drifting down his cheeks.

The next weekend worked out kind of special for me. I had convinced my parents to let me stay at Aunt Evelyn’s just for that weekend. I mowed Dougherty’s lawn early on Saturday then went to Rosemary’s apartment house. She was a little surprised to see me before noon. We walked to Astoria Park and found a shady spot to sit. Our hands were embraced together while we talked about a million things. Then, after a brief silence, Rosemary looked up at me and put one hand on my cheek.

“Don, do you… love me?” The question came out of nowhere and I had nowhere to look for an answer. I thought, carefully, for a moment.

“I’m… not sure I know exactly what love is, Rosemary… I mean, I don’t know if what I feel is… forever... It’s hard to explain…”

She seemed to resign herself to my answer. “I understand,” she sighed and her hand loosened its grip on mine. But I had more to say.

“I don’t know if you do understand me… Maybe after school starts, we’ll drift apart. You’ll go one way and I’ll go another. Or maybe I’ll keep coming on weekends to be with you, but maybe you won’t want to be with me… Maybe you’ll meet some guy or I’ll meet some girl. I can’t tell what’s going to happen…” I gripped her hand a little tighter. “But I know how I feel now. Right

now. And how I’ve felt since we met. I want to be with you… I guess, yeah... I love you. Right now, I love you… and I hope I stay in love with you.”

She suddenly put her arms around me and held me so tightly. She buried her face in my neck and whispered “I love you, too.” I felt her tears on my skin, it felt something like a baptism. I took her shoulders, brought her delicate, lovely face close to mine and kissed her as tenderly and as devoutly as I knew how, then I told her words I knew she wanted to hear. “I love you.”

It was almost time to take her home. We got up from under the tree and walked a while in silence until I spoke. “Maybe I can convince my father to let me move back here… He’s a good guy. He

knows I want to be here… with you…” Our walk was slow and all I could think about was how we both felt and what would happen to us. Then, I got this brainstorm. “Listen. Tomorrow, after you go to church, meet me at Nick’s Soda Fountain over on Astoria Boulevard. Do you know where that is?” She nodded yes. “Okay. You meet me there at noon. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“What’s this all about?”

“Nevermind. You’ll find out tomorrow.”

I stayed at Aunt Evelyn’s that night, but only after I made some secure detailed plans. On Sunday, I waited impatiently at Nick’s. I told him to keep the radio tuned to WABC. Rosemary was right on time. She walked into Nick’s and lit up the room and my heart. I ushered her over to a table and Nick brought two cokes. Rosemary was about to talk but I put my finger to her lips and just said “Listen.”

“Welcome back, Kimosabes, from all that great news about how we just blew twelve-million dollars on the Mariner 1 spacecraft… loose change, Kimosabes, just loose change… This is your old buddy Dan Ingram (jingle WABC) and I got something special for all you guys and gals out there, requested by an old Kimosabe of mine. It’s an oldie but a goldie, not something we often hear on WABC these days, but these are the most precious days, ain’t they. This one goes out to Rosemary from Don…” and the soft beat of a drum started Sonny James’ Young Love…

They say for every boy and girl

There’s just one love in this whole world

And I-I-I know I-I found mine…

I thought Rosemary’s smile would split her face. Tears filled her eyes. She stood up and leaned over the table, put her arms around me and gave me a kiss that no fourteen-year old Romeo would ever forget.

…Young love, our love

we share with sweet emotion…

Nick brought two more cokes. “These are on the house.”

Steve stared at a newspaper in horror.

POLICE SEARCH FOR APARTMENT KILLER

Astoria police are actively seeking Joey Snyder

in connection with the stabbing-murder of a

Superintendent for a KD Enterprises apartment

building on 31st Street. The suspect is roughly

five-foot-five, balding, and alleged to be

mentally disturbed…

Tears fell from Steve’s eyes. “Oh, Joey,” he murmured. “Poor, poor Joey…”

It was a little late when I kissed Rosemary goodnight and goodbye until next week. I had to catch my train. But as I got to the platform of the Astoria Boulevard El, I spotted Joey huddled by a

gum machine.

“Joey?” but he didn’t respond. He looked at me with glazed and fear-filled eyes. “Joey, what are you doing here?”

“…Koutrakis…” he muttered with a tremor in his voice.

“What about Koutrakis?” But it was obvious that Joey wasn’t going to answer. “Let me take you home,” but when I reached for his arm to get him up, he pulled away violently and glowered at me. “Alright. I get it… You want to stay here. I’ll stay with you until my train comes.” I sat with him and we waited in silence for a while. “Whatever you’re thinking,” I said, “I can be your friend.” The train came and I boarded and left Joey huddled on the platform.

“Dad… Do you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” he said. We were doing some clean-up on the lawn. The sun was high and the air was hot. I could see that Dad was happy working on his own lawn, his own place.

“You know I don’t drink on the sly or try drugs or things like that.”

“I know,” he said and he stopped raking and looked seriously at me. “What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve got a friend in Astoria…”

“The girl?”

“No, it’s somebody else… You don’t know him. He’s a little older… His mother just died and he’s really in bad shape over it…”

“And you want to be back in the city with him.”

I looked down at the grass and felt as though he was seeing through me.

“Donald…” When it was serious, he called me Donald. “Is it that bad for you here?”

“It’s not bad, just different… but that’s not why I’m asking.”

“I believe you’ve got a friend who needs help. I still believe you belong here with us… And I still believe you’ll get along out here in time.” I was guessing the answer was going to be no. “But, if you feel that you need to be with this friend of yours, I’ll speak to your mother about it.”

We had a family conference that night. “If you think it’s important,” Mom said, “then I think you should go.”

“Not for long,” Dad said. “Just a week or so.”

I was glad, grateful… even moreso that my parents understood my reasons for going.

“I’ll call Evelyn and make sure it’s okay with her,” Mom said and stood to go to the phone.

“You’ll be okay?” Dad asked.

“Yeah, Dad. I’ll be fine.”

Dad drove me to the train, slipped me a few dollars and shook my hand. That handshake was our bond, our oath of love and respect for one another. We were swearing, silently in the firmness of our joined hands, that we would never break faith with each other. I loved my father, but never more than in that moment.

**************

Koutrakis showed the trashed envelope to Negron. Printed on the top left corner was KD Enterprises and there was a post office box address underneath.

“D is for Dougherty. Who’s K?”

“Could stand for anything,” Negron suggested.

“Get over to the post office and find out who owns the post-box for KD Enterprises. I’m sure it’s Dougherty. Get a real address for it. I’m gonna go see the old lady… And, listen, go over to the bank, too, and see if they have an account for this outfit. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

***************

Koutrakis stood at Mrs. Dougherty’s front door and rang the bell persistently. She came to the door, opened it and saw Koutrakis, then narrowed the opening but Koutrakis stuck his foot in the door.

“Hi, Mrs. Dougherty. Sorry to bother you again.”

“What do you want now?”

Koutrakis pulled the envelope from his pocket and held it before her eyes. “Ever see this before?”

“No, now go away. I’m busy.”

“I’m busy, too, Mrs. Dougherty, trying to find your money. This envelope came from your trash.”

“Going through my trash now, Detective?”

“No, it blew out of that bucket of garbage you gave that kid that cuts your lawn.”

“So?”

“Who’s K, Mrs. Dougherty? What kind of business is this KD Enterprises?”

“I don’t know.” She forcefully shoved the door shut and locked it, almost crushing Koutrakis’ foot. He grinned and mumbled “I’ll figure it out. Sooner or later,” and he left.

***************

Joey slumped in the last pew until after Sunday Masses had ended. He crept into a Confessional and stayed hidden there for several hours. He heard a few people come in and out of the church, and by dusk, when he was sure the church was empty, he crawled out and stretched out on a pew to get some much-needed sleep in the solemn quiet of the church. But he didn’t sleep well at all. His mind kept going over the brutal stabbing… “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

On Monday morning, Negron reached Koutrakis at the precinct with documentation and interesting news. “I got the address, who the box belongs to and copies from the bank.” Koutrakis snapped it all up on the desk in front of him.

“23-25 Newtown,” he read aloud. “23-25? …Shit! That’s the church!”

“The box belongs to Arthur Keller,” Negron said.

“Keller. Monsignior Keller. K for Keller, D for Dougherty.”

“Yeah, and look at the bank statements!”

“December, $500 withdrawal in cash... February, $500. April, $1000… Jesus Christ!”

***************

“What you’ve got proves nothing,” Keller said. “Simple donations to our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Church, that’s all. And I have no connection to this KD Enterprises.”

“Pretty hefty donations,” Koutrakis answered. “And regular… Dougherty couldn’t like this church that much.”

“What Mrs. Dougherty does with her money is her own business. Besides, all this has no bearing on the missing $500 donation.”

“I think it does. I don’t know just how, yet. But somehow this whole thing ain’t on the up and up.” He headed for the Rectory door. “I’ll be seeing ya, Monsignior.”

“I hope not,” Keller said as Koutrakis and Negron left the Rectory.

A police car drove very close to Joey’s latest hideout. Joey was crying, panicked. He was running out of places to hide. “Dear God, Sweet Jesus,” he murmured but, as usual, God had nothing to say.

I had stayed at Aunt Evelyn’s for a couple of days by then, but had found no sign of Joey. It was Saturday again and I dragged the old mower out of the shed. Steve was leaning against the fence and he looked very despondent. I decided to stop to talk for a short while before getting to work.

“Hi, Steve.”

He acknowledged me with a nod but said nothing. There was such sadness in his face.

“You okay, Steve? You look kind of down.”

“It’s nothing,” he said. Then, he realized my concern. “Sometimes my thoughts drift… But you are here now and we can talk. I will feel better. And how are you and Rosemary getting along?”

“We’re okay… Very okay,” I replied. “Steve, I got a question.”

“These days, there are many questions… I hope I have answers.”

“Well, you see… We were talking, Rosemary and I and …I told her I love her, and she said she loves me. But… I don’t really know what love is?”

“Love? You ask very difficult questions, Donny…” He thought for only a moment, then he spoke. “When I pledged my love to Katye, I was very young… and very unsure. As soon as I told her I loved her, I regretted it. I had my whole life in front of me. Great adventures I would have… But then, the Nazis came. That man I told you about, the one who pointed out houses… He pointed to Katye’s house. I was very afraid for her. Nothing happened for a long time, but I was afraid for her and her family… Something inside of me said that I would never find another girl, a woman, who I would want to share life with… No, Katye was the one.”

“And you got married,” I assumed.

“Yes, we were married. And we were happy to be married,” and his eyes glazed back to a distant past. He was no longer speaking to me, but to himself, to his past. “… Happy to work together, to be in love together … to make love together, each of us giving ourselves freely…” Then his reverie faded for the moment. “But you are too young for that yet and so is Rosemary… that is part of love that you both will know much later in time… So, what is love? You love Rosemary and Rosemary loves you… Let’s think about this…” And the memories overtook him again. “The time I felt love more strongly than at any other time was when it was taken from me… when Katye died… when she was murdered. The Nazis came and took many from the village. I

was in the fields… I did not know what was happening. I heard guns shooting. I ran to my home and it was empty. I ran to the village and saw… my family, my friends… my wife, my love lying in the dirt. Bullet holes still smoked from their clothing. The Germans were climbing back into the trucks. I looked to them to know why, but there was no why. There was death. There was loss… There was a great emptiness, no, a great blackness that surrounded me… that ate me alive… It was that blackness that proved to me that I loved her so deeply, that she was the light for me that was fading away.”

He stood silent for a time and I was afraid to ask anything else. I was afraid that if he spoke more about such things, it might kill him. I stood with him for several minutes in that terrible silence.

“Boy! Boy!” Mrs. Dougherty shouted from her front door. “Are you going to mow the yard or not?”

“Yes, ma’am,” I called back. And Steve woke from his reverie.

“Love is delightful and terrifying ,” he said. “You should be in love for as long as it lasts, because you never know it’s true love until it passes from you.” He said no more, but turned with the help of his cane and limped slowly away from his corner, turned down 29th Street and limped away to wherever he lived.

***************

Koutrakis sent Negron on more errands. He discovered that KD Enterprises was a real estate company that owned buildings across the city. One of the buildings was on 31st Street and that’s where he went. He stopped at a car where a plain clothes Detective was sitting.

“Stake outs are a bitch, ain’t they?’ he said to the Detective.

“You bet your ass,” the Detective groused.

“You want to get some coffee or something. I’ll keep watch for you for a few minutes.” The Detective was reluctant but grateful, even to Koutrakis.

“I’ll just be a minute, Koutrakis, but if Barnes shows up, tell him I had to go to the can.”

“Yeah, sure,” Koutrakis said and traded places. “Hey, who you lookin’ out for?”

“That retarded guy who killed the landlord or super or whoever he was. Guy’s about thirty, small, a little bald, never says a word. That’s what the tenants told us. I don’t think he’ll show up around here.”

Koutrakis sat at the wheel of the car and mulled it over. “Retarded. Quiet… Dummy, from the luncheonette… And Barnes is all over Astoria lookin’ for him…” his grin grew broad. “So, where are you, dummy? Where are you hidin’?”

When the Detective returned, Koutrakis went to the luncheonette. “Hey, Doris,” he greeted her with that false smile of his.

“It’s too late for lunch,” she told him. “We’re closin’ up for the day.”

“Dummy go home, too?”

“I told you, his name is Joey… We ain’t seen him for a few days. He might’ve quit.”

“A good job like that for a guy like him? Where’s he keepin’ himself?”

“Cops already been here lookin’ for him. I don’t know nothin’.”

“Come on, Doris. Give a flatfoot a break.”

“Fuck off, Koutrakis,” and she went about her business, cleaning up behind the counter.

***************

“He’s been out here more than a week,” Detective Willis said.

“Yeah, but he’s out here,” Barnes said. “Joey will show up someplace, sooner or later.”

“Well, he must know the best hideouts, ‘cause I can’t figure out where he’d be.”

***************

Joey hid in Astoria Park. He hid under the Hellgate Bridge. He hid in alleyways, abandoned buildings… anywhere out of a cop’s sight. He sometimes survived by stealing food from the pantry at the luncheonette when no one was looking. He even hid inside for a night after the place closed for the day, but he knew he’d be discovered sooner or later, so he kept moving around from one safe haven to another until he could think of no other places to hide. The church was his last chance.

Tilton was taking a shortcut through the church from the ‘old school.’ Suddenly, Joey stood up from a pew and scared Tilton out of his wits.

“Jesus Christ! …Will you stop doing that?!”

“I gotta say Confession,” Joey muttered.

“What is it with you?

“I gotta say Confession,” Joey muttered again.

Tilton slapped the pew and headed for a Confessional. “This better be good.”

Inside the Confessional, Tilton was short-tempered. The police investigation had worn him thin. His convictions over being a priest weighed heavily. His duty to hear Confession seemed almost ludicrous. And Joey began…

“Bless me Father for I have sinned…”

“Alright, just tell me what you did,” Tilton insisted firmly, but his demand pulled Joey off the routine. He had to do it right, according to the ritual and the way Ma had taught him. The rituals of the Roman Catholic Church were absolutely necessary to her and she instilled every nuance of church-going in Joey.

“Bless me Father for I have sinned…”

“Jesus! Stop it!” Tilton shouted. “I don’t have time for this! Get on with it! What the hell did you do?”

“Bad things,” Joey stammered.

“What!? What bad things?”

“Mr. Watson…” was all Joey could utter in confessing a terrible sin in the wake of the priest’s frustration.

Tilton clutched his hands together. Exasperation roiled within him. Still, he knew that Joey was earnestly trying to confess. He spoke more softly, coaxing Joey, with irritation in the sound of his words. “What about Mr. Watson?” he asked.

Joey’s knees gave out. He fell back against the wall of the Confessional and trembled. “I …killed Mr. Watson.”

And then there was silence. A deafening, all-consuming silence on both sides of the tiny box with just the plywood wall and thin screen to kept them apart. Joey’s eyes were wide and terrified. He expected bolts of fire to crash through the Confessional to consume him. Demons would descend and drag him to the horrible fate the Catholic Church had warned was created for the worst sinners. He trembled and waited for them.

On his side of the box, Tilton sat in shock. He saw the demons, too, but they were rising from within him. While he concentrated desperately to comprehend Joey’s confession, he not only understood the terror of it, but the urgency for him to act on it. But how? God had finally spoken to Tilton through the quavering voice of a little man who sought refuge in a house built on fantasy. Tilton slumped on his bench, knowing that a certain truth had befallen him at last.

“How… did it happen?” Tilton asked woefully.

“I… hit him… with scissors,” Joey replied timidly.

“Did you mean to kill him?” but Joey couldn’t answer, not fully aware of whether he meant to do it or not. It just …happened. “Where is Mr. Watson now?” and still, Joey couldn’t answer. Unable to think further, Tilton considered what must be done, but he knew he hadn’t strength in himself to do anything. It seemed foolish at that moment, but the priest had to ask. “What’s your name?”

“Joey…”

Tilton took moments longer to let it all settle in. “Will you stay here, in the Confessional for a little while?” Joey could only nod his head. “Will you?”

“Yes.”

“Just wait here. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“No police!”

“No police.” Tilton agreed. “Just stay here and wait for me.”

“O…Okay.” Joey pinned all his hopes for salvation on the priest.

Tilton practically stumbled out of the Confessional. He leaned forward and clutched the pew before him. His head bowed, then rose to peer up at the giant crucifix above the altar. “Is this what you wanted me for?” he murmured.

Tilton stepped into the Rectory dining room where Keller was having a cup of tea.

“Monsignior, I have to talk to you.”

“Have you come about the $500?”

“No, sir. It’s more serious than that.”

“Right now, that’s the most serious subject that concerns this church.” Keller was cold to Tilton, but Tilton was feeling something much colder.

“There’s a man in the church, in the Confessional, who needs help.”

“We all need help, Father. What’s he done? Killed somebody”

“Yes.”

Suddenly, Keller was alarmed. He rose slowly from the table and gazed intently into Tilton’s drawn face. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, Monsignior… and I don’t know what to do.”

Keller turned. “Stay here. I’ll get Father Dobbs.”

Tilton sat down and Mrs. Onorato came in. “I get coffee,” and she turned back to the kitchen.

***************

Koutrakis sat at the wheel of his radio-car with Negron listening intently beside him.

“Taxes,” Koutrakis concluded. “He’s burying the donations to beat the taxes.”

“So, let’s tell Bednarz and arrest Keller.”

“No, not yet” Koutrakis said. “This could work out better for me. It puts me in the catbird-seat.”

“How much better could it be than breaking this case?” Negron said. Koutrakis started the car and began driving.

“You keep an eye out that window and let me know if you see a short, balding guy anywhere, y’hear.”

“What about the priest and the old lady?” Negron asked.

“I got another case to work on…” He grinned but Negron didn’t understand. “Cat-bird seat,” Koutrakis mumbled.

They drove up and down almost every street in Astoria and even over to Ditmars and close to Brooklyn. Koutrakis would even get out and look for Joey on foot at a few places, then return, grumbling. “Sonofabitch gotta be somewhere.”

Rosemary had gone to Confession and we were to meet in the church afterward. I sat in the seat beside her near the Confessional. Then, three priests came in.

“Which one?” Keller asked. Tilton pointed to the Confessional closest to us and the priests hurried to it. Dobbs saw us sitting in the pew. “You two had better leave for now,” he said.

“But,” I said and Dobbs turned an angry look to me. “Alright,” and we got up to do as we were told.

Tilton waited until we were gone before speaking. “His name is Joey?” he said. Keller got into the Confessional and started speaking to Joey. “I understand you have a problem, Joey.”

“Who…?” Joey whispered.

“I’m Monsignior Keller. Father Tilton and Father Dobbs are just outside. We’re not going to hurt you, Joey.”

Dobbs suddenly realized. “Joey. That’s Mrs. Snyder’s son… The one I told you about, Monsignior.”

“Perhaps you should talk to him.” Keller stepped out of the Confessional and Dobbs stepped in.

“Joey, this is Father Dobbs. I knew your mother. Is this about your mother, Joey?”

“Yeah… He said bad things.”

“Who said bad things, Joey?”

“Mr. Watson…”

“And you got mad?”

“He said bad things.”

“He said bad things about your mother?”

“Y-Yeah… and me…”

“What did he say?”

“C-Called her names… Called me …crazy.”

“You’re not crazy, Joey… You’re hurt and confused, but you’re not crazy.”

“I hit him …with scissors.”

“Yes, but it was because you were angry…”

“Yeah.”

“You didn’t really mean to hurt him.”

“He said bad things…”

Keller turned to Tilton. “We’ve got to call the police.” And Joey overheard him.

“No police!” Joey shouted.

“Alright, alright, Joey,” Dobbs induced. “We’ll just take it easy for now.”

“No police,” Joey muttered. “Koutrakis! He’ll shoot me!” And then he panicked and flew out of the Confessional, past the priests. He saw the side door to the church and raced to it, flinging it open and dashing outside. He raced down the hill beside the Rectory, saw a small opening in the church wall enclosing a Saint’s statue and ran for it. He squeezed behind the statue and did his best to hide in the tiny space. Tilton, Dobbs and Keller followed him outside but saw no sign of him. But I did.

When I spotted Joey cringing behind the statue, I grabbed Rosemary’s shoulders firmly. “Wait right here,” then I crept up to the lawn of the Rectory, slipped through the gate and reached Joey’s hiding place. Tilton saw me and rushed down. He caught sight of Joey’s hand and reached for it ever so gently.

“It’s alright, Joey. Nobody’s going to call the police.” Gingerly tugging on Joey’s hand, he managed to coax Joey from behind the statue. He embraced Joey, turned me around and walked us gently back to the church. Dobbs and Keller took us inside. As soon as we were inside, Joey made a bee-line back to the Confessional, pulled open the door and went back to hiding inside. I looked to the church’s main doors and saw Rosemary standing there, utterly bewildered. “She’s my girlfriend,” I said and Tilton waved her on. She sat beside me in a pew and Keller and Dobbs sat in the pew in front of us.

There was silence until Keller said “We’ve got to decide to do something.”

“What?” Dobbs said. “There’s no one to call who could help, we can’t let him run, and we can’t let him hide in the Confessional for the rest of his life.”

“His mother?” Keller suggested.

“His mother died weeks ago. He has no other relatives as far as I know,” Dobbs answered.

“Then I can only suggest prayer,” Keller said.

“Prayer?!” Tilton loudly exclaimed.

“It’s been known to work in desperate situations.” Keller replied.

“For who?” Tilton was angry now. “Do you think prayer is going to solve this situation? Do you think Christ is going to climb down off that cross and solve all our problems?”

“Ed, don’t…” Dobbs said.

“Are you that naive?” Tilton continued to shout at Keller. “Are you that pious? That… foolish?”

“Shouting at me is certainly not the answer!”

“Shouting at you is all I have left!” Tilton retreated to a pew.

Dobbs turned to Rosemary and I. “Do you know what the problem is.”

“I know there’s some kind of trouble,” I said.

“Then you haven’t heard anything about this? You haven’t seen the newspapers?” Dobbs asked.

“I don’t think so,” Rosemary answered.

“We’ve got a dilemma on our hands…”

“What did the kids do? Steal a couple of candy bars?” No one suspected that Koutrakis was standing at the door, or how long he’d been there.

“Oh, shit,” Tilton mumbled.

“Detective. What do you want?” Dobbs asked.

“Him.” Koutrakis pointed to Keller.

“Me? …What on earth for?” Keller protested.

“Money laundering. Tax evasion. Maybe stealing $500 in cash. What else ya got?”

Koutrakis was being aggravatingly smug and enjoying every moment of it.

In the Confessional, Joey knew Koutrakis’ voice. He silently shrunk into the Confessional and shook with terror.

It occurred to Keller that Koutrakis didn’t know Joey was hiding there. “You can’t arrest me!” Keller firmly stated. “…I claim Sanctuary!”

“What?” Koutrakis never heard of the word.

Dobbs gazed at Keller incredulously. Tilton nearly laughed.

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“I’m speaking of a person’s right to claim Sanctuary in the safety of the Roman Catholic Church.”

“Don’t fuck with me,” Koutrakis said.

“There’s a… a law,” Dobbs added, “that states that even a suspected criminal can claim Sanctuary in the sanctity of the church… You can’t arrest anybody. You can’t even remove Monsignior Keller from this church as long as he claims Sanctuary.”

“Stop saying that word!” Koutrakis demanded. His frustration was boiling over.

“He’s right,” I stood and said. “I learned it in school. There’s a book about a girl charged with murder who gets rescued by a hunchback who keeps her in the church as Sanctuary for her.”

“Bullshit!”

Tilton rose and stepped forward. “Check with your superiors, if you want.” he said. “I’m sure someone at the precinct has some idea of the law.”

“This is a trick!” Koutrakis snapped back.

“I’ve been going to church a long time,” Rosemary bravely stood. “I read that book. I know about Sanctuary. I would have thought a policeman would know about it.”

“Listen, Missy…” but Koutrakis couldn’t think to say more to her. “Alright, alright,” he flustered. “…You all stay right there! I’m gonna check this out. I can see ya if you try to run and, so help me, I’ll shoot ya. I can see you from the radio car parked right out front… Not one move, any of ya.”

Koutrakis beat it back to the car as fast as his heavy frame would carry him.

“That was great!” Dobbs cried and Keller shushed him to be quiet. Dobbs turned to Rosemary and I. “You guys were terrific!” he said in a much quieter voice.

“He won’t be gone for long. What are we gonna do when he gets back?” Tilton asked.

“We can get Joey out of the church,” Dobbs offered.

“And if Koutrakis sees us and starts shooting…?” Tilton replied.

“Our best chance is stay put, I think,” Keller suggested. “Koutrakis doesn’t know Joey’s here and as long as Joey stays quiet, we might have a chance of bluffing that policeman.”

Tilton stepped closer. “You know that Sanctuary went out in the fourteenth century.”

“Fifteenth,” Keller corrected.

“What’s all this about money laundering?” Tilton asked.

Keller sat rather wearily in the pew. “Well, I’ve been …involved with Mrs. Dougherty for quite some time. When her husband passed, we formed a corporation by which her real estate holdings… rents from her properties, would provide us with plenty of money on which we

could… retire together, in South America perhaps. She would donate considerable sums to the church which I never recorded and Father Dobbs would unwittingly deposit the cash in a private account. He thought it was a building fund for the church.”

“Why me? Why did you make me the goat?” Tilton asked politely.

“Well, that was a bit of a bugaboo,” Keller answered. “I normally would collect the money myself at her home, but I was due at that conference. You are new here and couldn’t possibly have suspected your Monsignior of any wrong-doing, you were a logical choice. But Mrs. Dougherty quite simply didn’t like you. She thought you would abscond with the cash.”

While the discussion was going on, Joey was huddling in the Confessional. He kept as quiet as one of the statues that decorated the church.

Koutrakis was in the car on the radio to the precinct. “I don’t know what the hell he’s talkin’

about! …Look, I got the priest dead to rights on this thing. He’s been squirrelin’ away money for months, him and the old lady! I got proof! …This Sanctuary shit he’s sayin’ don’t make any

sense!”

At the precinct, Bednarz was shouting into the phone. “What the hell are you talking about Sanctuary? Get back to the precinct, Koutrakis! You’re drunk!”

“I ain’t drunk! I got a solid arrest goin’ down here! I ain’t lettin’ this priest go! …Well, then you get down here and straighten it out! I turned a bullshit case into a real bust and they’re tellin’ me I can’t arrest nobody ‘cause it’s the church!” He slammed down the receiver and was enraged. “Sonofabitch!” He paced the sidewalk for a few moments, then bounded up the church steps. His gun was drawn. He burst through the doorway and leveled his gun on the priests.

“Let’s go you three. I ain’t buyin’ any of this shit.”

“I won’t budge,” Keller said. “If you’re going to shoot me in cold blood, go to it. You’ll have to shoot all these witnesses, as well.

“You think I won’t?” Koutrakis shouted, veins bulging in his neck.

“That’ll look good in court,” Tilton said. Koutrakis shook his gun but he wouldn’t fire on them.

“Come now, Detective,” Keller beckoned in his gentlemanly tone. “Why don’t you sit down and let us work this out without bloodshed.”

Koutrakis hesitated but then started walking up the incline to get closer. Joey heard his heavy footfalls coming closer and panicked. He burst out of the Confessional and raced between the pews to the side door.

“Joey, no!’ Tilton shouted.

A twisted grin crossed Koutrakis’ face. “You little bastard. I got ya!” He raised his gun, fired and missed. Tilton leapt over the pews to stop him, but Koutrakis was already wading through the pews ahead of the priest. I beat Koutrakis to the side door, and he was close behind me. Dobbs, Keller and Rosemary followed after us.

Police car sirens screamed at the curb in front of the church. Joey was just reaching the fence between the church and the school and I was right behind him. I heard three shots… one caught Joey in his shoulder and he fell against the fence. Koutrakis’ second shot ripped through my back and I fell. Rosemary screamed… and I heard a third shot. As I fell, I could see Koutrakis fall. He rolled down the hill beside the Rectory.

Someone told me once that the brain continues to operate for a few minutes even after the rest of

the body dies. I don’t think so… I believe it continues to function long after that… as the soul, even into eternity…

I couldn’t speak but I could see. I saw Rosemary kneeling over me, her eyes were pools of tears and her cheeks were drenched. Her lips were moving. I couldn’t hear her, but I knew what she was saying. I wanted so very much to say those words she had wanted to hear, but my lips wouldn’t move to form the words. I could only hope she could see them in my eyes and hear them in her heart. Dobbs was leaning over me, too, giving me last rites.

I saw Keller move toward Joey’s body. I saw Tilton standing behind Dobbs. I never saw a sadder looking man. And then the light faded…

Of course, I was saddened for the end of life as I had experienced it, for never again to be with family and friends, for never having gotten to know the thrills of the human experience. But the sadness passed quickly. I can’t begin to tell you what happened to me after that… but now I have told you each part of the story as I have seen it from a distant plain.

It was Bednarz’ bullet that killed Koutrakis. He shouted at him to stop, but Koutrakis would never have listened, so the fatal shot was fired. In his final moments, perhaps Koutrakis saw the faces and heard the cries of the people he tormented. Perhaps he either cursed them or begged forgiveness. The last moments of the dying are not for us to know. He was buried without honors and forgotten.

My parents mourned me for some time, but they still had my sister on whom to lavish their love. Linda grew up to be an extraordinary person… funny, brave and independent through all of her life. Disease caught up with her and took her, a terrible loss for all who knew her.

I remember that talk with Dad, and I remember how we shook hands. I remember that he trusted me and loved me. I remember Mom’s love and how she knew I was… different and how she stood by me.

Joey was tried, convicted and sentenced to a mental institution for the criminally insane. He died just two years later of a stab-wound inflicted by another inmate. They laid Joey to rest in Potter’s Field, thankfully near his mother… and maybe near Steve.

One evening, just a day or so after the incident, Steve read the final newspaper story. He limped from his corner on 28th Street, shambled up the steps to his tiny apartment, unlocked the door, dropped his cane to the floor and made his way to bed where he might dream of Katye’s light… of how he loved his wife, how he lost her… of friends who gave him little blessings with each wave, and of fresh-cut green grass… I’m sure he will still know its fragrance. He drifted into sleep and never awoke.

Keller and Dougherty were charged and convicted and given light sentences on the circumstances of their age. When they got out of prison, they never saw one another again. Her Victorian home and the lawn Steve loved is now an apartment building… there isn’t a blade of grass left.

Dobbs inherited the responsibility of an entire parish, church and school until the Diocese found replacements. He was soon transferred to another parish.

Tilton left the priesthood and wandered for a while. Perhaps he was waiting to hear God speak to him once more. Or perhaps, he just stopped hearing. Eventually he found a job coaching basketball at a Midwest high school.

Rosemary learned a secret on the day she lost me, just as Steve had once told me “… you never know it’s true love until it passes from you.” She went back to school when that summer ended, but there were no boyfriends, no more Young Love. She never spoke of the incident. She kept it all deep in her heart and sifted through the sweetest moments of our time together. Years afterward, she graduated from college, met a man who loved her and married him. She had two sons, whom she named Steve and Donny.

By Donald Kraus

From: United States