Chapter Four - The Priest's Closet

"One of these days I'm gonna need an office," complained Jane as she walked back into the bullpen.

Korsak glanced up from his computer, "You bring coffee?"

"Do I look like I brought coffee?" snapped Jane. "Look at my hands. Are they filled with coffee cups? No? Maybe you think I can just press my nose and it'll come pouring out of my belly button?"

Frost whistled softly and looked away, muttering "Damn" under his breath. "I'll get the coffee," he announced, and slunk off, wanting to get as far as possible from the Korsak/Rizzoli bitch-fest.

"Then where were you?" Korsak pushed himself away from his desk and slouched, seemingly stumped by the day's lack of progress.

"Hunting down a lead, came up to nothing. Story of the damn case." After Maura's suspicion of her father, Jane had called up the FBI for a quick tête-a-tête about the possibility of organized crime's involvement. Anna Farrell (thankfully not Gabriel Dean) had been available to verify that there was no movement from that part of the seedy underbelly of the crime world known as Wal-Mart, nor from any of Patrick Doyle's former associates. In short, whoever shot the priest was on his own.

Korsak grumped and threw a notebook down on his desk. Both he and Jane watched it bounce off the edge and onto the floor, taking a desk calendar of cuddly animal pictures with it. "So we got nothing. Day three and we got no idea who shot Father Brophy."

Picking up the notebook, Jane handed it over to her partner. "Did Frost catch you up on what we found at the nest?"

"Yeah, and I had CSU go take a second look. The guy was good. Policed his brass, didn't leave any DNA. We got all the leaves on the ground from the tree he was in, at least. I figured Maura'd want us to get the leaves and dirt and stuff from the nook." Korsak made a gesture with his hands, indicating the crotch of the tree, but Jane decided not to correct his terminology.

Frost returned with three coffees. "I wish your mother was working today." Each detective took their coffee and sipped. And winced. Stanley's coffee. "I still don't get why anyone would want to kill a priest. I wouldn't even want that Metzov idiot dead."

"I know a lot of parents who don't feel as charitable," sighed Jane. Not many people had nice things to say about Metzov, even Brophy.

Looking a little forlorn, Frost asked, "We're going to have to dig into his life, aren't we?"

Jane winced, hoping it wasn't too obvious. She was not going to mention this investigative track to Maura, no way, no how. "It's probably something recent, though," she temporized, hoping to keep the part of Brophy's life that directly involved Maura out of the limelight.

"Maybe he was sleeping with somebody's wife," suggested Korsak, and Jane had to fight not to spit her coffee out over the table.

Jane managed to swallow without burning her throat. "Uh, I'm pretty sure not, Korsak."

"Yeah but how can you know? I mean look at Metzov."

That was a thought. Jane frowned. "Yeah, look at him. He was an ass, and we all knew it. And Brophy, man, he volunteers here, he's at Dignity Boston, and he has his own parish and…" Jane stopped. There was a thought, niggling at the back of her head that just wouldn't solidify. "He's just a really good guy. Why would anyone want to hurt him?"

"Haters gon' hate," sighed Frost, rubbing his face.

The thought clicked. "Haters gonna hate a gay-friendly Catholic," she muttered.

Frost grabbed it first. "Sniper associated with a fringe religious group? Isolated. Like the David Koresh guys in Waco?"

While Jane couldn't say she was pleased at the idea, it was better than the idea that Daniel's relationship with Maura would be the cause of the shooting. The only two people in the world who might shoot Daniel Brophy because of Maura were herself and Maura's father. Jane knew she didn't do it, and she chose to believe Rick Dale's assertion that he hadn't, either. What? Shoot a priest, are you kidding me? You go straight to hell for that. No, God bless that superstitious old hit man, he wouldn't dare.

"So, where do we start looking for the new Waco Wackos?" Korsak wanted to know.

Jane considered. "Well, it was a hell of a shot, first off. You'd have to be seriously good to pull it off, right?"

Frost immediately turned back to his computer. "Let me just get on that. I'll look up all military snipers with that level of ability, and see if I can find similar feats among previous shootings in the past... what, five years? Ten?"

"Five for now," Korsak suggested. "I'll go ask Father Brophy's office assistant if they keep hate mail that he gets, or that the church gets, and see if I can find somebody serious enough. Oh, and what time is it?"

"Nine twenty-eight," Frost replied. "Why?"

"Damn. Next round of coffee's on me, Jane. You had nine-oh-one to nine-thirty, and I had nine-thirty-one to ten before he brought in the computer."

"Self high five," replied Jane with a touch of triumph. This day was getting better already. "Okay, while you two dig into that, I'm going to dig into Brophy." That way, if she found anything related to Maura, she could keep it on ice until and unless it turned out to be relevant. I wonder if this counts as evidence tampering. I wonder if this makes me a dirty cop. Okay, let's think about something else. "Hey, before I go... Uh... Okay, this is going to sound really stupid and weird but can I take you guys out to brunch on Saturday?"

Korsak and Frost exchanged a confused look. "You aren't pregnant, are you?" asked Korsak, worried.

"God! No, no I'm not pregnant. I just want to… talk to you guys about something. Outside work. Okay? So brunch at Lorenzo d'Oregano. It's around the corner from my apartment."

"You in trouble, Rizzoli?" Frost asked, coming up for air from his computer search. "What's going on?"

"What's going on is," Jane repeated, "I just offered you free food, so just say yes and we'll talk on Saturday."

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Good."

Korsak cleared his throat, "What time is brunch, anyway?"

"Halfway between breakfast and lunch. So about ten o'clock."

"Got it."

"We'll be there."

"Good morning, Polly," Maura said with a smile. It was their agreed-upon compromise for a name. Sister Polycarp had said she preferred the name given her upon taking orders; Maura reminded her that she was an only child and not a Catholic, and therefore calling her a sister would be inappropriate and inaccurate; the nun had offered a nickname for Maura to use. They got along well after that.

"Morning, Peaches." Another nickname. Their first meeting, she had made reference to Maura's peaches-and-cream complexion and sighed over her own, which had been similar in her youth, but was now spotted with age and hung tiredly from her facial bones, gravity being disrespectful of the elderly. "Did you bring them?"

One hand, its manicure having lost the sheen of recentness, held up a bag of Jelly Belly candies. "I always keep my word. And you?"

A book emerged from within the voluminous folds of her habit. "Illuminations from Books of Hours from the fifteenth century until the present." Both women smiled as they exchanged their treats. "There's been no change since I got here after Lauds." While Greystones Abbey was not a contemplative order, and the nuns generally on the elderly side, Sister Polycarp attended as many of the hours of office as possible, and preferred to keep to the Abbey these days.

Maura sighed as she took the seat on the other side of the hospital bed, the one closest to, and with its back facing, the door. "Still, I'm grateful that you were here. I know his family would be, too. I'll tell them. And I know Father Brophy will be appreciative of your prayers, you and your sisters who come here."

"And those of us who stay," remarked the sister. "We believe in the power of prayer to heal. All the sisters, even those who never had the pleasure of working with Father Brophy, pray for his health, just as we did for that nice Detective Rizzoli." Most of the nuns that had met Jane on that rather memorable case had been less than pleased with her forthright and assertive attitude. At the time, Sister Polycarp had muttered that they could have used a few more novices like Jane.

Aware that her own thoughts on the subject of prayer would not be received well (to wit: prayer, like worrying, presented one with the illusion that one was doing something constructive), Maura merely replied, "I know that your presence made her family feel much more able to deal with their stress at that time." And her own, in fact, though not because of their prayers. Simply because it was nice to know that Jane and Frankie had never been alone, and that the sisters hardly ever stopped murmuring those prayers, and she had an idea that their voices had been soothing. Certainly the machines' beeps had sounded more regular and a bit less frantic with those rhythmic readings and utterances giving definition to time and a sense of not-aloneness to their semi-conscious bodies.

Maura wondered occasionally whether the various nuns and priests were similarly pleased to have someone else beside this hospital bed with them. Fortunately, Father Imahara had assumed that she was a cousin or some other relative of Father Brophy's, and the majority of the others had accepted that as a reasonable explanation. It had saved Maura from having to explain further. None of the nuns or priests who had kept vigil over Father Brophy in her absence (or, as she thought of it, on her behalf) would have been pleased to know of the nature of their connection, Maura knew.

She also knew that the majority would not have approved of the fact that they were watching him for her while she went home at night to "that nice Detective Rizzoli." But Maura Isles was practiced at the art of discretion. Most of the time, no one ever even asked her the questions that she would find uncomfortable to answer truthfully, or too complicated to answer with anything more misleading.

The question of her agnosticism had actually been the easiest bone to toss those who asked her anything that seemed to require an answer. It expressed a lack of belief, but also a lack of absolute disbelief; and it established the fact that as a non-Catholic, she considered herself outside their authority, real or imagined. Therefore, they could tolerate her even if they didn't like her, and they didn't keep asking her to come to church or to pray with them.

Then there was Sister Polycarp. Most of the nuns Jane and Maura had met previously had been elderly, save the deceased, and as such, only Sister Polly, as everyone called her, had been present both in the hospital and at the Abbey when Maura had met Daniel. She was, in fact, the one church representative in the hospital who was fully aware that Maura was no relative, and merely a good friend. "It's a pity Father Brophy's family can't be here," she admitted, tucking the Jelly Bellys away.

Maura looked over quickly, and picked up her coffee to hide behind. "Their distance is difficult to overcome," agreed Maura carefully.

Polly pursed her lips. "I won't tell Father Imahara, dear. He's still more of a man than a priest, you know." At Maura's confused look, the nun settled in her chair and explained. "When I was a novice, we had nearly seventy sisters at the Abbey. When you met us, we had dwindled to less than thirty and feared we would be asked to close our doors. But seventy women, all living together, working, praying... we understand the familial ties born of friendship. It's something women can grasp more easily than men, at least in my experience. Even a woman like me, all brash knees and elbows, finds friendship and love with her sisters. Men don't really understand that very well."

Maura's brow lifted. "Father Imahara doesn't understand friendships turning filial because he's a man?" she rephrased slightly, to be sure of her comprehension.

"That's right." Sister Polycarp was complacent, letting a Jelly Belly melt over her tongue.

Maura's head tilted. "And Father Brophy understands because...?"

"Father Brophy was always more of a priest than a man. I liked that about him." The nun clucked her tongue once, "Father Imahara will learn."

Maura couldn't argue what she knew firsthand to be the case; the truth would not serve anyone. Therefore she went with saying nothing at all. "I see." She lapsed into silence to consider the matter, but quickly her mind flitted elsewhere. What could she say that would present a different subject over which the black-habited woman could muse? Oh. There it was. "Why the habit?"

To clarify, the sister gestured at her attire and, when Maura nodded, said, "Out of habit, I suppose." Cheeky nun. "There are many reasons, of course. It serves as a uniform by which all can recognize us, it's modest, it fits with our working life." And there she paused with a chortle. "When I was a novice, we still kept some of our own animals. One afternoon, the goats got out and we had to round them all up. One of them jumped the fence, so I, being all of twenty-two, took off after it. I tucked my skirts into my belt, jumped the fence in one go, and brought it back." Sister Polycarp's eyes sparkled as she remembered her youthful exuberance. "The Sister in charge of the Novitiate had words about me showing my knees to the neighbors, and I pointed out that we were women, even if we were nuns." Carefully, she smoothed the habit across her knees. "I've changed in my thinking on that a bit since then. But even in secular life, I was never as put-together as you are."

The comment took Maura a bit aback, and she glanced down at herself, unable for a second to remember what she'd put on that morning. Normally it was something she enjoyed thinking about, and each outfit gave her a different mood, a different way of presenting herself as well as a different way of thinking about herself. It kept her aware of her actions, as well as being simple entertainment. When had she last given it any real thought? Oh, right. Just before Daniel had been shot. Today she wore a grey dress, darker grey heels, lighter grey shrug. The previous day had been, what, greens? browns? She could not remember. "Oh. Thank you. I didn't even think about it when I put it on this morning." It was the bald truth.

"You are quite the exception to many rules. I'm glad Danny has you as a friend." Somehow, the sister missed Maura's brief moment of terror, indicated only by a slight widening of her eyes. "We're not supposed to use nicknames, or rather weren't, but then they named me for a fish."

Flustered, Maura managed to find a modicum of salvation in facts. "I thought Polycarp was a second-century Greek Christian."

"Quite! He was one of the Apostolic Fathers, as it happens. I think they were hoping his serenity and leadership would touch me and smooth my rough edges. He was a bishop, you see. Of course, he was also bound and burned at the stake, or at least they tried to do that to him. The fire wouldn't burn him, so they stabbed him to death instead. I was never sure if I should take that as a warning..." Sister Polycarp shook her head. "At least I wasn't given the name Wilgefortis." There followed the abridged description of a woman who hadn't wanted to get married, so she'd prayed, and the Lord had blessed her with a beard. As with many of these stories, the end had been less salutary, as the woman's father crucified her.

Maura hardly knew what to say to that. Fortunately she didn't have to come up with anything, as there was a change to the patterns of Daniel's machines. "Press the call button," she ordered the nun, surging to her feet to stand by Daniel. Carefully she read the diagnostics as she heard Polly calling out in a rather strong and bold voice for a nurse.

Daniel's eyes opened before the nurses arrived, and Maura took his hand. "Don't try to speak. You're intubated. Do you understand me? Blink twice."

Blink. Blink. Pause. Blink blink.

As little use as that would have been to most people, Maura had an answer to what she thought the question might be. "You were shot during the Montague funeral. Do you remember that?"

Blink. Blink. Pause. Blink blink blink.

"We don't know who shot you," she answered, "but Jane's looking into it."

Blink blink blink. Blink blink blink.

"No, Mrs. Montague died, and I'm very sorry to have to tell you that. But no, you're not dead, and this isn't heaven."

Blink.

"Of course I think that's where you'd go, if I believed in it."

Blink-blink-blink-blink. Hand squeeze.

"Well, thank you." Maura tried not to blush, glancing at the nun which Daniel hadn't even noticed. It was flattering, after all, but imagine her, an angel. That would be the day, wouldn't it? Could angels be agnostics? Could agnostics be angels? Better stem the tide of that line of questioning before there were more questions. "Sister Polycarp from the Greystones Abbey is here with me. She's called for a nurse, and I'm sure they'll want to check on you. I'll stay here if you'd like."

Daniel's eyes flicked from Maura to just past her. He didn't seem to be focusing very well, but that wasn't abnormal for these moments. Sister Polycarp heaved herself to her feet and shuffled around to take Daniel's other hand. "Hello, Father Brophy. Nice to have you back with us again. I was worried I'd have to find a new bridge partner."

Blink blink. Blink.

The nun smiled more broadly, "Oh we had Father Imahara take care of that. I know, I know, he'll be miserable, but it's good for him. Builds character."

Maura glanced up towards the nun. Maybe Jane's joking assertion of nun superpowers... No. They just paid attention to people, the same way she did. With any luck, Sister Polycarp would have paid more attention to Daniel and to her prayers and Jelly Belly candies than to Maura.

"Well, isn't that just sweet," came an amused voice from the doorway as Dr. Knudsen walked in, followed by a nurse who really needed to calm down a bit. "Hey, Father. I see you triumphed over death." Ah, Catholic jokes.

Maura stood and stepped aside, as did the nun on the other side of the bed, to let the medical personnel perform their examination. She did, however, lay a hand on one of his feet so he would know she was still there. The good sister did the same. "Will it disturb your work if I call Jane from here?"

"Nah, go ahead," replied Knudsen. "We won't have to ask our patient questions and get answers, so you won't drown us out."

Maura pulled out the cellphone from her purse and dialed with her free hand. Shortly Jane's voice came across the line, and Maura sighed with relief even before she said, "Father Brophy's awake. I thought you'd like to know."

There was a thump and then a cough before Jane replied. "He's awake? Is he... Okay?"

"Responsive to verbal communication," Maura said as if she was an old hand at describing the qualities of live patients. "Also to touch; he felt me holding his hand. Able to communicate, though not verbally, because he's still intubated. Probably will be for a few days. Dr. Knudsen is examining him right now, and has expressed no surprise or distress, so I'm taking it that he's as well as ever he could be expected to be."

"Thank God," murmured the devout sister beside her.

"Thank God," said Jane as well, though it was highly unlikely she'd heard the nun's remark. "You holding up okay? Do you need me to come there? I'm nearly done here."

Aware of the odd echo in Jane's words, Maura wondered aloud, "Where, exactly, is here?"

"The closet." A brief pause and Jane made a slight groan while Maura pressed her lips together in effort not to smile. It would be inappropriate. "I'm in Daniel's closet."

Twin honey-brown eyebrows jerked upwards. "Why are you in there?" she asked, a trifle alarmed, her vocal tone suggesting that that was a situation that needed rectifying. It was one thing for Jane to know that Maura had once had a different, more intimate relationship with the man lying in the hospital bed, but to actually go among his personal items was a bit odd.

Again, Jane sighed. "Someone had to, Maura. Come on, you know it's standard protocol to search the vic's place. I thought, y'know, it'd better be me than CSU. If I let them in, they'd find... something." The layers to what Jane was implying were not missed. "Like a pair of gloves." Jane was not capable of saying that without a little rancor. "Hat, a scarf, glasses..."

"Oh." Maura cleared her throat, glancing at Sister Polycarp. "There might be glasses. I lost a pair during the... that time period." Daniel didn't wear any; his eyes were excellent. Maura, on the other hand, generally wore contacts during the day, and glasses only at night when the contacts had come out.

Dryly, Jane said, "You mean like a pair of Prada reading glasses?" Yes, Jane was clearly unhappy to have found them. "Do I need to go look for a pair of panties, Maura?" While Jane did proclaim to be 'over' the fact that Maura slept with Daniel, she still found it hard to be totally reasonable about it all the time.

"No!" Maura was horrified. "I never st... Can we talk about this later?" She sent a fervent possibly-prayer towards a possibly-non-existent deity that her phone's sound was audible only to herself and not to the sister directly beside her.

After a moment, Jane sighed loudly. "Sorry, I'm being a bitch." There was a sound, as if Jane was kicking something. "It'd be a lot easier if he was a jerk, that's all. I like the guy, but it... rankles me. Okay? I'm not jealous of him, I'm just..."

Quietly, Maura offered the word, "Human?"

"Yeah. And a bitch."

"Yes," Maura agreed with fondness, "but you're my..."

If it was possible to hear eyebrows rising over the phone, Maura would have heard them then. "Out of curiosity, where are you right now? And who are you with?"

"I'm in D- Father Brophy's room, with Dr. Knudsen, Nurse..." Maura leaned forward, "Nurse Dryer, and Sister Polycarp." She paused, listening to the sounds at the other end of the line. "Why are you laughing?"

And yet Jane kept laughing. "Because this time it's funny." There was the sound of a door closing, and Jane added, "I'm done here, so I'm going to my apartment to clear out my books and DVDs, and then... How about you come home and we can celebrate Daniel waking up?"

Maura looked at Daniel, who was being attended to by the nurses and blinking at various questions. "I don't... I still don't think he should be alone."

It was not Jane, but Sister Polycarp who chimed in, "Dear, you have a job and a life and responsibilities. The sisters and I are perfectly capable of keeping Father Brophy company while he's here. And those nice uniformed men won't be far away." She wiggled her fingers at the grim uniformed cop by the door. "Until you catch your killer, just think of it as our way of thanking you for solving both those cases."

Even Daniel took the time to blink at her.

Later, Maura would have to ask Jane how much she was joking about nuns being telepathic. "Alright," she capitulated to the three Catholics. "I'll just wait until Dr. Knudsen finishes and... When are we exhuming the slug?"

"Monday. The morgue's a little behind right now."

Maura was quiet, reminded all of a sudden that life had gone on outside this room, whether she participated in it or not. Life, and duties that she was shirking by being here. "I should be there."

But if she was there, she knew she would be thinking she ought to be here instead. There was really no way to do the right thing in both places. God-or-no-one knew she'd been trying, devoting at least a few hours a day to the hospital, a few to her job, and trying to catch sleep when she could, but there just wasn't time for everything. What had suffered the most hadn't been her job or Daniel, either. It was sleep. She was just so tired.

"You've been swamped," said Jane, wisely. "Go home. Get some rest. If you haven't got your health, you haven't got anything."

"Of all the lines from that movie, I never expect you to quote the boring ones."

"I'll show you boring when you get home."

"Could you show me something besides boring?" Dr. Knudsen began to smile even as she left the room, having completed her examination, and took Nurse Nervous with her.

"As you wish."

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