Chapter Four
Saint Mary the Virgin
The two cars pull to a stop on New York Avenue beside the huge Gothic structure as evening begins to darken the street. Composed primarily of huge blocks of light beige stone, the massive building stands over a hundred fifty feet high at the steeple, half the short block wide and three hundred feet back. They've already seen, coming around from side street onto New York Avenue NW, a gated parking lot on the right of the Church flanked on their left by the recessed Rectory.
On the large blue over white sign beside the ornately carved mahogany doors is printed the inviting words 'The Episcopal Church Welcomes You' alongside the familiar shield, a white field with red cross, the upper right field blue with an X of tiny white Crosses forming a Saint Andrew's Cross. Printed below this welcome are the names of two Priests, which DiNozzo dutifully notes in his PDA. There are an impressive number of Services, 9:00, 12:00 and 6:00 on weekdays, 10:30 and 5:00 on Sundays. Also listed are Confessions at 10:00 and by Appointment and a Nutrition Program serving meals at 10:00 and 1:00.
"They certainly are busy," Ziva observes. She notes McGee stands some steps behind, as though reluctant to approach. This seems odd, since she was sure this Church represented his denomination.
"Ya think?" Tony asks. "My old Parish in Baltimore locks up tight as a drum by 1:00 Sunday afternoon and that's it." He's slightly jealous to find the Church doesn't have iron bars for a fence.
x
The interior is as impressive as its outside; the vaulted stone ceiling is supported by ornately carved pillars and the entire effect is one of Gothic elegance and massive solidity. The five wide, high and brightly lighted stained-glass windows on each side are beautiful works of art. The sunlight streams through the left windows to paint the right wall and in DiNozzo's judgment it's fully two hundred feet from Narthex to the brightly illuminated Sanctuary.
The Sanctuary, with its green draped Altar, extends from one side of the Church to the other, forty feet wide and at least twenty deep. It's set upon a single step upraised platform, open and accessible rather than blocked by an Altar rail. Carved pairs of wooden doors beyond either side of the Altar have tall wooden statues mounted upon them. The banners the haloed men hold are much too far away to read but DiNozzo has his suspicious about what they say. If he were designing the overwhelming space, they would be Matthew, Mark, Luke and John.
The Altar and the imposing lectern on their left are draped in elegant matching gold highlighted green. The lectern on the right is a massive golden eagle standing atop a golden globe; its wings extend to support what they can just make out to be a huge red book. The sunbeam from the high left window has already risen above the level but still makes the golden eagle glow
A door to their left leads to another Avenue side entrance, perhaps newer than the tremendous red doors they passed through.
The immense stone structure, mostly carved marble, is also a good ten degrees cooler than the August air outside.
x
As they look about, Ziva appreciates the spacious setting as much as the merciful coolness. Though this isn't her religion, she has deep respect for the worship of God in whatever forms it might take, and there can't be Christianity without Judaism. Tim seems to take the impressive site in stride, yet in his eyes she can see that he's reluctant, for some reason, to be here.
Tony's attention is immediately locked on the two women conversing beside a pair of doors halfway up the right side aisle, a hundred feet away.
In particular, he's clearly intrigued by the woman whose back is to them. The one facing them, who Ziva presumes to be the cleaning woman from her attire and the cloth in her hand, is approaching her fifties and, while she is not unattractive, it is the woman she is conversing with that holds her partner's gaze. Tony walks to the right corner of the Narthex and to the right aisle, the better to see the pair, obliging herself and Tim to follow.
The woman whose back is to them wears a black skirt that falls below her knees, yet her legs are still eye-catching so Ziva doesn't fully blame Tony - yet. She's confident, however, that he will soon do something blameworthy. The woman halfway up the two hundred foot side aisle wears a light blue blouse buttoned up the back, the material catches the light though the beams have just risen above their heads and seems to shine it back into the room. Her red hair hangs well past her shoulders, the color striking in the light.
DiNozzo has stopped fifty feet up, therefore half way to the women.
x
"Tony?" Tim tries to bring DiNozzo, if not back to business, at least back to the planet.
"What is it, Probie?" he asks, keeping his voice low enough that it doesn't carry the distance, his eyes petting the woman's body. Ziva suspects he's wishing she would turn about so he could caress her front.
She has had enough. "Tony, we are in a Church." She barely managed to keep her own voice low enough not to be heard in the silent space.
"If this is an example of what I'm missing, I should come more often."
She tries to swallow back a sigh, amazed at his gall. "Even you cannot be so crass as to try to pick up a woman in a Church."
"Hey, this is an Investigation," he reminds them officiously, though apparently barely paying attention. "I just want to see if she knows anything."
"I'm not sure she's your type," Tim says. Ziva gives Tim a look to say there is no way to counsel or change the man.
"Hey, I'm not going to be 'inappropriate'. Of course," she's sure that he never considered not taking advantage of the situation, "if in the course of our Investigation I should happen to need her phone number for follow-up–"
"Tony, trust me," Tim says, "you do not need her phone number."
Tony ignores his friends while Tim and Ziva exchange glances of frustration and disgust.
x
"Excuse me, ladies," DiNozzo begins in his most suave voice. He looks over the woman with her back to him in, for him, a discreet check. He can't give her body the full visual stroking he would have if she weren't directly in front of him, but what he sees is really pleasant. The cleaning woman ('Sexton, are they called?' he thinks) looks at him curiously and the object of his attention turns, a bright smile upon her face. She makes clear that she's happy to see him even before seeing him. He barely notices the way her gold glasses catch the pinpoints from the many surrounding lights within the frame of her red hair, he's too focused on catching his face before it falls off.
"Good evening," she greets him warmly, her words couched in an interesting, melodious accent he can barely trace from only two words.
At the top of her light blue back button shirt, an inch and a quarter high stiff white band encircles her throat.
x
"I'm Very Sp - Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, NCIS." He pulls out and opens his ID case, displaying his identification cards and shield, but must focus rather than display it with his usual dexterity, which seems to have deserted him. In that instant, his eyes flutter across her breasts and he's even more flustered to see she's definitely his 'type' and he's suddenly sorry for it.
Anxious to cover, he pulls out his Blackberry and turns it on, tremendously grateful he'd taken down the names of the Ministers listed outside.
The sign had only one name upon it that wasn't clearly a man's. "I take it you're Reverend ..." he struggles over the name, "Si - o - ba - han?" He's cringing at the end, but the woman just smiles.
"Not bad. Actually, it's pronounced 'Sha-vawn'. Siobhan O'Mallory at your service," she extends her hand; DiNozzo is surprised by the firmness of her grip.
"You're Irish, aren't you?" he asks, trying to cover his fluster.
O'Mallory grins. "How can you tell?"
x
DiNozzo indicates his fellows, grateful to have recovered his aplomb as they approach. "Officer Ziva David and Special Agent–"
"Timmy," O'Mallory steps close, sounding very pleased indeed to see him. McGee would shake her hand but she hugs him instead and kisses his cheek. To DiNozzo that kiss seems to linger an extra second.
He doesn't let her go. "Shav - Siobhan - Mother O'Mallory–"
She looks up into his eyes, she's about three inches under his six one height. "Now what is that?" He can't find an answer. "I take it you haven't brought your friends because you wanted to visit me?"
"Err, no, that is I - I'm here on - that is, we're here on business."
"Oh. Well then," she says in her melodious brogue, "if we're not going to dance, shouldn't you let me go?"
He releases her too quickly, as though realizing he was holding her, and steps back. Seeing Tony's consternation at the affection she displays, he recovers enough to give his partner a look in return that says 'I tried to warn you'.
Ziva does not begrudge Tim that affectionate cheek kiss or his lingering, thoughtless embrace. She's having too much fun watching her distressed partner being 'one-uped' by the 'Probie'. Again.
She has noted that the Sexton, well aware that she is not the subject of the visitors attention, has drifted away to resume her duties. She doubts either of her partners have noted the woman's disappearance.
x
While DiNozzo had quickly perceived the very obvious, that the woman priest is Irish, Tim knows her to be very Irish. Born in Ireland and immigrated at the age of seven to settle in Bethesda, Maryland, she'd immersed herself in Irish lore, retaining speech that was distinctly ethnic. As a young girl it had been a way of protesting the pressure to assimilate into American culture; the more she was compelled to 'fit in', the harder she'd fought until, over the years, an affectation had become her normal manner.
"So these are your friends," Siobhan says while shaking hands with Ziva.
"Yes they are," McGee recovers his voice if not his poise.
"McGee never told us he knows such a lovely Priestess," DiNozzo says to her, trying to be suave while giving a verbal dig to Tim, at the same time never noticing his own faux pas. "And may I say you have the most lovely accent?"
"Thank you. But really, you're the one with the accent." Her sweet smile completely undermines his 'recovery'.
Rev. George Donaldson had once told her that she had a brogue that could be cut with a knife, fueled by a stubbornness that could not, but he'd said it with love.
"So, how may I serve you?"
x
Any other woman, handing Tony DiNozzo such a straight line, takes a real risk, but this time his only reaction is choked silence, allowing Tim to cut in smoothly. "Unfortunately, Shav – Siobhan, this isn't a social call," he says with a measure of regret, even while admiring her technique in employing such an unsettling line.
He knows she'd recognized DiNozzo's manner in the first instants of seeing him. His voice before she'd turned had telegraphed his thoughts and he can see she revels in DiNozzo's flustered reaction.
Tim remembers she's had much practice, long before becoming a Priest, in taking a person down a peg when they need it. He'd have warned DiNozzo if the man had paid attention to him.
"Is there someplace private we can go?"
"Why Timmy," she favors him with a teasing smile, "are you being naughty?"
If anything, his disconcertion is far more pronounced than DiNozzo's had been. He'd forgotten that, when the mood strikes her, her humor can be quite devastating and that she can change targets faster than Gibbs.
x
Ziva enjoys the moment immensely. In less than a minute the woman has torpedoed two NCIS Agents below the waterline and has done it with a truly friendly manner.
She considers stepping in to help her lover but decides against it. She does not want to try her luck.
x
"Much as I would love to be 'naughty' with you, Shav– Siobhan," Tim replies, almost recovering enough to try to turn the tables, "this isn't the time."
He sees Tony and Ziva staring at him so intently he can almost read their minds. There's disconcerted jealousy in Tony's eyes that 'the Probie' is making so fine a show with a stunning woman forever beyond the self-styled Lothario's reach, while he sees Zee struggling to understand how he can imagine being 'naughty' with a Priest.
He considers enlightening them but changes his mind. "I'm sorry, but we are here on business."
"Of course, I am sorry," she tells the others before they can develop the wrong idea, "but Timmy is an old friend. And if you can't flummox your friends who can you flummox?"
"Words to live by," Tony says, wondering how old and how good friends they are. He resolves to get the answer.
Tim, seeing a familiar look in his partner's eyes, resolves that he will not.
x
Siobhan's frequent manner of trying to put new guests 'at ease' by breaking - just a little - the artificial wall most people feel between Clergy and the Laity can sometimes, Tim recalls, have some interesting consequences. But he wouldn't trade her easy-going manner for all the stuffiness and aloofness some of her Colleagues might fall into the trap of – especially when it can so effectively derail Anthony DiNozzo.
Before anyone can move, however, Gibbs is among them. None of the Agents saw him arrive, he's just there with the preternatural stealth that makes him both legendary and feared. O'Mallory, having seen him coming out of the Narthex's side door, is the only one not surprised by Gibbs' silent arrival. Further introductions are made, and she's particularly interested in the obvious regard in which he's held by his peers.
x
Gibbs, responding to the updated report of his team when they'd left Dumas' apartment, had entered the tremendous building through the left set of Avenue doors which provide access to a corridor with the Church on his right, a Hall to his left and before him a rightward ascending staircase to the Choir loft over the Narthex. Both these inner entrances are doubtlessly intended to provide more discrete access to the Church during Services. It allowed him to observe for a few moments the interplay between his agents and the flame haired woman before making his presence known.
Gibbs finds the woman instantly impressive in her own right, but he's certainly going to temper the attraction he has for any redhead with the appropriate maturity and discretion that he's confident DiNozzo hasn't shown.
He introduces himself to the priest by way of his IDs and shield, but she turns to McGee. "So Timmy, you're not the Greeting Card salesman you told me you were."
"What?"
"Ah hah!" DiNozzo exclaims and launches into a not-too-horrendous impression of Don Adams. "Timothy McGee, Secret Agent 00 of–." Barely in time he spots Gibbs' opinion of this segue but it doesn't halt him enough to drop the impression. "Sorry about that, Chief."
"You will be."
"Good to know you, Special Agent Tommy."
"Touché."
In McGee's two books, Tony is 'Tommy DiNardo', an appellation he'd had no compunction about stealing when it came time to create his longest running UC identity. He'd gotten away with it because DiNardo was not shown to be a fool and only a fool would swipe an ID from a Federal Agent's name in a pair of best selling novels.
Gibbs brings the conversation back with an "Is there somewhere we can talk?"
"Of course. Right this way."
x
The Agents, led of course by Gibbs beside the priest, follow the woman back to the Narthex and to the right side door, across the foyer which, on the left, grants access to the Avenue and forward into the Hall which stretches out to their right.
They note that the right door leads to a Chapel that doubles as a Columbarium for urns of interred ashes and beyond that a large garden that separates church and hall. The very long hall nearly matches the length of the Church, some two hundred feet. There are fifty round tables seating ten, a kitchen to their left and the flags of a multitude of nations hang in salute from the rafters of the arched wooden ceiling.
Through the windows on the right they see the large and wide garden, within which are several trees and benches. A stone fountain sprays a smooth stream of water upward to fall back as a curtain into the wide bowl at the base.
Ziva, taking in everything, notes DiNozzo's eyes, sees what they are taking in and silently jabs her elbow into his ribs.
x
In going through to the far end and turning right again, they come to a hallway. Traversing this final corridor, there's an office on the right which glass wall looks out into the garden, while on the left is a deep room containing a prodigious number and variety of Liturgical vestments in colors which span the spectrum. The second right and left doors of three are an office to the left and to the right a sign marked 'Vesting'. There's a bathroom marked as the last left door while the last right is marked 'Sacristy'. Having tracked the dimensions of both buildings and the corridor, they realize this door will lead to a room that will open on its other side through the doors mounted with the wooden statues on the right side of the Sanctuary as seen from the pews.
They particularly note that each door, with the exception of the bathroom, is inset with a foot square diamond shaped window.
There's a final door facing them at the end of the hall, this one marked 'Rectory', which leads into the two story house they had noted upon pulling up the side street. This is all they need in a very fast scan even before they turn at the second of the three doors on the left and enter the office.
A Priest is seated at the right of two desks in the wood paneled room. This desk faces to their left and the other desk faces them before the far wall.
The man, this one in a black shirt with white tab collar rather than O'Mallory's wraparound band and light blue shirt, is watching a small television set displaying a Rangers game on the corner of his desk. He turns it off as the unexpected visitors enter.
"Father Donaldson, these are Special Agents Gibbs, DiNozzo, McGee and Officer David, NCIS."
"I do know Mr. - sorry, Special Agent McGee. Happy to meet you all."
x
Donaldson, a tall man with a shock of jet black hair, had risen at the entrance of these visitors and extends his hand first to Gibbs. "So, NCIS." He extends his hand, first to Gibbs. "In that case, former Gunnery Sergeant George Donaldson at your service."
"Gunny, good to meet you," Gibbs says, shaking hands with the man, pleased to have a more comfortable common ground on which to deal with him. "You're in charge here?" he asks as greetings are completed.
"I'm the Rector, Mother O'Mallory is Curate."
"Sorry, I'm not familiar with that term," Gibbs admits.
"It's an ancient term, just like all of ours," he tells them with notable casualness. "Basically, it means I get to tell her what to do."
"I love a man with a rich fantasy life," O'Mallory says with a comradely wink to Ziva.
Ziva finds herself warming to the woman, despite her obvious yet unstated history with her partner.
x
"But that's all just technical stuff for the Diocese and the Vestry," Donaldson tells them, continuing the casual tone. "Fact is, we're a team; you can't run a Church with a congregation of over nine hundred by getting bogged down. Would you care for some coffee?" He indicates with a gesture the small white coffee pot on a table near the bookcase; Gibbs and Tony accept.
They agents are taken by the casual air the man, that both priests project within their enclave. It's an uncommon ease, considering the formality in which they're usually received by the Clergy and the stress shown by the Military.
"Now," the man asks when they've been served, "what can simple Parish Priests such as we do for the illustrious NCIS?"
Gibbs returns Donaldson's smile; from what he's seen there's little of 'simple' here, but he finds himself liking this pair. He's known many priests in his time and so few are as 'down to earth' or able to easily express a joie de vivre, especially with strangers. Unfortunately, he expects he has to dampen that.
"We're investigating someone who might have a connection with your Church. Do either of you know a Marine 2nd Lieutenant Christina Dumas?"
"Tina?" O'Mallory asks, surprise clear in her voice. "Of coursewe know her; she's served here for years. I think she was born to this Church." Donaldson nods in confirmation.
"How has she 'served' here?" Gibbs asks her. There had been nothing in the Lieutenant's Service Record of a Chaplaincy, nor of any Religious Orders.
"Acolyte, Eucharistic Minister, Lector; she's a member of the St. Fiacre Society, which means she helps tend our garden. She was recently licensed as a Eucharistic Visitor."
"'EM', 'L' and 'EV'," Tim reminds his fellows, referring to the initials found in Dumas' electronic calendar.
"What does all that mean?" Gibbs asks. He'd known many of the terms, understood a few of them, but he prefers to get the obscure defined immediately. Considering the eclectic nature of his team, this is always a good idea.
"A Eucharistic Minister," O'Mallory explains at Donaldson's glance, "assists during the Mass in administering the Elements: the Bread and the Wine. We sometimes have large crowds and can use the help. A Eucharistic Visitor brings the consecrated Eucharist to shut-ins and the hospitalized after the Mass. A Lector does the readings during the Liturgy of the Word and Acolytes assist in various duties in the Liturgy of the Sacrament. We generally use four to six Assistants at Sunday Services, and as many as are available on weekdays, from a staff of nine."
x
"Is something wrong?" Donaldson asks, the tone changing. "Has something happened to Tina?"
"Is it her heart?" O'Mallory asks with deeper apprehension.
"What about her heart?" Gibbs anticipates confirmation of Ducky's findings.
"She has a heart condition that's plagued her for the past two years. She's had two operations; her doctor hasn't been able to cure her. I told her she should go see someone else, but–" Donaldson waves her to silence.
"What happened?"
"We have a picture to show you. I'm sorry, we need to have positive identification that it is Christina Dumas we're talking about."
"Of course." He accedes to the necessity even though he wishes for straight answers. He knows he won't get them until the Agents are positive they're all taking about the same person.
Tony reaches into his jacket and takes hold of the picture, a head and shoulders shot taken upon Ducky's table after the streaks of blood had been cleaned from her face. Unfortunately the incised cuts on her forehead are still visible. "I'm sorry; this will be disturbing," he cautions, but Ziva stops him.
"Put the picture away, Tony."
"Why?"
Ziva points behind them. "Because that is a better one."
x
They turn to find a large portrait hanging on the wood paneled wall next to the door, hidden behind it as they'd entered. The photograph is two feet high by two and a half wide and depicts a man flanked by two women. The man is in his late twenties, tall with short blond hair and black framed glasses. On the left is a black woman, they estimate her age to be about the same as the man's, her black hair a riotous crown of curls. The woman on the right, younger than when they'd last seen her lying upon Ducky's table, smiles out of this picture, her blonde hair styled angelically.
All three wear formal white cinched Albs such as Priests wear, yet without the distinctive white collars of that rank.
"That's Tina on the right, with Melanie Velez and Bob Hastings," Father Donaldson says with carefully restrained but mounting concern. "That picture's over four years old, after Tina's reception of her License. Bob and Melanie have been Eucharistic Ministers longer, but she's our only Visitor. Now please tell us."
'There's no way to soften this,' Gibbs thinks. "She was found this morning in Coleman Park. She was murdered."
"Murdered…." Father Donaldson is shaken, Mother O'Mallory more so. Each makes the Sign of the Cross, silently imploring.
Gibbs hates this part of the job. Unfortunately, it's too common. "She was found behind some bushes. She'd been whipped, scourged thirty-nine times and we believe that a crown of thorns had been forced onto her head."