Sacrament in Scarlet

Chapter 10

Teresa Lisbon and Kimball Cho flashed their badges at the ushers who were trying to make them wait. The Rev. Monsignor Jorge Father Alvarez was presiding over the 1:00 mass, and the Cathedral of the Most Holy Sacrament was full of parishioners. The ushers were insistent but Lisbon was not in the mood to argue California articles of jurisdiction, so she brazenly pushed past them and into the sanctuary proper, Cho dutifully dogging her every step.

The sanctum of the bishop was down a long wide hallway, the same one that eventually led to Alvarez's office and the residences. The office administrator looked up politely as they entered.

"We need to speak to the bishop as soon as possible," Lisbon muttered, showing her badge yet again. She hadn't met this person during her initial investigation yesterday, and the woman's polite smile changed ever so slightly.

"I'm afraid the bishop is unavailable to speak with you at the moment," she said with a tiniest hint of condescension. "You may not have noticed, but he's the one performing the mass."

Lisbon glanced at Cho, who frowned. She turned back to the woman. "Father Alvarez is saying the mass."

"No, I'm afraid you're mistaken. His Grace always says the 1:00 mass when he's in the city. Which is almost always."

"Um, well, unless Fr. Alvarez has a twin brother, I suggest you go take a look." She swung an arm in the direction of the door and the woman rose most politely. Together they made their way back to the sanctuary. From the entrance to the transet, she could see Fr. Alvarez, holding high a golden chalice, wine offered as a sacrifice and remembrance, to be transmuted at the tinkling of a tiny bell.

The woman looked back in shock.

"I don't understand. He left his office not 20 minutes ago to prepare…"

Lisbon sighed and turned to Cho. "Okay, get Rigsby down here, and call for backup. We need to secure this building now."

She grabbed her phone and called Jane's number.

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Devil with a blue dress, blue dress, blue dress, devil with a blue dress on

The old man shook him now. Boy oh boy you sure do sleep a lot for a pup. Get up now kiddo. There are things you need to be doing. The rook has got your bishop. It's going to be check and mate pretty soon. The old man shook him again. Rise and shine, son. Rise and shine.

Unconsciousness was not all that it was cracked up to be, Jane thought to himself through the pounding in his brain. Not only did you have to swim through the jumble of headache, nausea and disorientation, but your pockets sang Motown and you had to deal with your own personal tour guide through dreamland. His head hurt and his back too, his palms and his knees…Oh yes, he had fallen down the stairs in the dark. Or something like that.

Devil with a blue dress, blue dress, blue dress, devil with a blue dress on

It came back in a rush, and he opened his eyes to candlelight. He was facedown in the main bell tower, right at the foot of the steps where he had fallen. There were flickering shadows and murmuring voices and he pushed himself up to his hands and knees, his muscles and bones protesting every movement. Looking over to the voices, he was not so surprised to see two robed men, one in white, the other in black, on the far side of the room. It all made perfect sense.

Bishop Silvaggio, kneeling on the wooden floor, candles in a small circle around him. He was praying, his crosier staff on the floor some distance away. Standing above him in cassock black was Dennis Meeks, copper-threaded rosary in one hand, tincture of holy water in the other. He was performing what Jane could only imagine was the Last Rites, the sacrament of penance, contrition and absolution granted just before death. That would be any moment now, from the looks of things.

"Dennis," said Jane, struggling to his feet. "Dennis, look at me."

No response. Even Silvaggio didn't seem to notice, so engrossed was he in his own fervent prayers. Meeks finished sprinkling with Holy Water and tucked the vial away in his robes. He caught up the rosary in both hands and placed his palms on Silvaggio's forehead.

"Go in peace. Your sins are forgiven."

"Forgiven," whispered the bishop.

Jane wondered with a slightly detached air if he even had a right to stop it. It was the culmination of 35 years of anguish and pain, of sin and of cover up and a path of vengeance that had brought them all here to this very place. He understood all too well. Who was he to stop it?

"In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost."

"Amen."

"Amen." And Meeks stepped around the candles behind the stooped old man.

"Cruz," said Jane, not able to settle that debate inside himself yet. Life was, after all, life. "Cruz, I need to speak to Dennis."

At the sound of his name, Cruz Noriega looked up. It was amazing how the same face could look so different with another personality at the helm. The same lanky body, the same close-cropped graying hair, the same deeply lined, life-worn face, but the eyes were those of a different man, and that changed everything.

"They're not here," the man said.

"They?" Jane cocked his head. "Who are you?"

The man kissed the rosary, stroked it over and over in his fingers. His eyes flashed. "Celio. I am Celio Noriega."

"Celio Noriega is dead."

"Do I look dead to you, Priest?"

Jane took a step forward, waited to see what the man would do. Noriega made no moves to continue, his dark eyes fixed on the consultant with a look of defiance. His body language was altered as well. Tall, tense, predatory. It all made perfect sense.

"You're protecting your little brother, aren't you? You've been protecting him for years, until Dennis came."

"Dennis is weak. Dennis thinks God will save him, that God will protect him." Jane moved closer, not exactly sure what he should be doing, but knowing that the fact that the man was talking and not strangling was probably a good thing. "I protect Cruz. I get us food. I get us money. I find us places to live. Me. Not God. Not Dennis. Me."

Jane's eyes kept flicking down to the bishop and back to Cruz. Such an offensive man on the outside, Silvaggio now seemed resigned to his fate. Jane wondered if Red John would react the same way. Somehow, he couldn't imagine it.

"But Dennis brought you here, didn't he?" Moved around the large hole in the floor where the cables went through, past the shelves with the eyeballs and ears. Moved himself directly in front of the two men in the flickering candlelight. "He went to school when you were in jail, applied himself…your..selves…got his papers. He wanted a better life for Cruz, didn't he? Something better than in and out of prisons and psych wards. That's no way for a boy to live."

"Shut up, priest! You don't know what I had to do!" His voice went quiet. "You don't know…"

Jane took a deep breath. "I would like to speak to Dennis."

"Dennis is gone."

He took another step forward. He was almost within grabbing distance. "I will only speak to Dennis."

"Dennis is weak."

"Dennis, it's Patrick. I need to speak to you."

The man's face was contorting. Jane had seen it twice before in person, once in a channeling session many, many years back at the beginning of his former career (he had almost quit then – it had scared the socks off him), and another time when he had been in the psych ward and possibly under too much antipsychotic medication, so he could never really be certain if he had witnessed what he thought he had witnessed in another one of the patients. There were almost always facial ticks, coughs, rolling of eyes, of head, rapid blinking, expression change as someone else took the reins of the conversation The concept of DID had always fascinated him, infuriated him, challenged the skeptic inside of him. The submergence of one personality and emergence of another. A veritable disorder or consummate performance?

Regardless of its authenticity, one thing was clear. The personality known as Dennis was fighting for control. Jane knew what he had to do, could almost reach the man's wrists.

"I will only speak to Dennis." He stretched out his hands.

"No!"

"You are safe, Dennis. No one can hurt you. It's just you and me and Bishop Silvaggio. No angels, no demons. Just us."

"…no…"

"We are all safe."

His fingertips brushed the man's wrists.

Dennis Meeks opened his eyes.

"Father Patrick?"

Jane breathed a sigh of relief.

Devil with a blue dress, blue dress, blue dress, devil with a blue dress on

"NO! NO!" And Celio/Dennis/Cruz lunged forward unexpectedly, and with such force that he knocked the bishop to the ground and caused Jane to stumble backwards towards the bell cable hole in the floor. Jane swung his arms wildly to steady himself, snagged one of the cables for support. High above, a lone bell almost rang.

Jane glanced back, brows arched, then pulled with all his might.

End of Chapter 10