The Sins of the Father

CheckMate

Apologizing to "Candy" for the abrupt end of the interrogation wasn't planned but the Chief didn't call unless it was something urgent. The smooth plain white business card with my information listed in black ink ,is slid towards Candy. "Anything else that you remember or that comes to mind just give me a call." She nods, eyes downcast as half of her body already disappeared behind the brown door.

" Oh and Ms. Jones, if you ever need to talk-" I let the unspoken words that I express with my eyes finish the tell tale sentence. She nods once more and shuts the door, leaving behind a soft click.

The conversation with Chief Rosin over the phone was pretty much me updating him on the "Vanishing sleeping beauty" case and the offering of the position of Assistant Chief of Police.

"Its still on the table whenever you are ready Mahogany. Don't you think your hands have worked enough?"

"No sir.' My swivel chair squeaks as I lean back. " I think I may have a few years left before they become disfigured."

He couldn't understand why I kept turning down the job offer. Once our debate ended, an expectant silence filled its place. An excuse of needing to resume the case issued out of my mouth, him agreeing, as it is a chance to sever the awkward tranquility, that tinged the atmosphere.

Call it ironic, simply put, I hated authority. Who wants to spend their time directing, managing and supervising others, when one can barely do that for their self? I only have time for one in and outside my cases. I loved being active on the field. Its like breathing oxygen for me. Consuming me, til all other necessities of life dissipated into bleakness.

Taking that job would keep my nails clean and hands soft but it would morph me into something I couldn't stand to be seen as in this field. A woman. At least doing detective work kept you invisible, blending easier with your male counterparts.

If I took that job, that invisible line would be crossed. I would no longer be "one of the guys". My badge wouldn't be the first and foremost item seen. It would be my ample breast, that peaked out from behind a white blouse. Then the curly, midnight, shoulder length hair that is always parted on the right side. My lack of makeup only would highlight any feminine quality that I try to conceal behind my short but athletic built stature, that are carried by a petite size six in oxfords.

Then and only then, would I be labelled the feminist that everyone accused me of earlier in my ten year career. This time it would be engraved in my psyche. Not as a badge of pride but a plaque of shame. Call me a coward but that thought alone, kept me rejecting the promotion time after time.

I decided to pay a visit to "Father Morgan" at the St. Marie Catholic Church. The element of surprise works best when dealing with suspects. As they didn't have time to pad their stories or decide to go on last minute vacations.

The church isn't' as I remembered.

The virgin Mary statue, now greets you upon entering as the lasting, thick smell of incense, r***s your senses. The smell, immediately causes me to gag. The fragrance of frankincense and myrrh, would be a heavenly intoxication to anyone else but my past history isn't to forgiving of the odor .

Upon entering the double doors of the sanctuary, empty red seats, on either side await the lost. The stain glass images of the supposed Virgin, beckons the naive to come closer, as she is the gateway to eternal glory.

Following the bloody pathway, that they so carelessly trample under feet, leads down the aisle, up to the golden altar. An altar that is now occupied by a priest, who is busy extinguishing the altar candles.

His black, cloth covered back greets me, as dirty blonde hair clings to the nape of his neck. He repeats the actions of placing the golden like bell, on top of each candle. Leaving only a trail of smoke to slither in the air. A noise rumbles from my throat to gain his attention. His hand pauses in midair.

The brief smile, upon recognition, disappears, leaving behind windows of harden accusing emeralds. My heart thumps with each purposeful step off the podium he takes. With hands behind his back, he casually makes his way towards me.

"Well, if it isn't Torrey Mahogany. What a pleasant surprise. May I ask what brings you in this late? A confession may-hap? Or forgiveness of some sort of concealed sin? If you are hungry, there are a few communion wafers available. We always have leftovers, for future references." His voice lowers as he He stops a mere six inches away from me. My neck cranes to view the sarcasm that was visible on his face.

" Enough of your sarcastic s**t already Roderick. I have a case to solve and guess whose the number one suspect on my list so far? So as of today, you are my b***h and will refer to me either as your god, as I have the power to end your little ruse of Holiness or Detective Mahogany. Either way, Torrey is out of the question. If you use any other name besides those, I won't hesitate to leak information concerning your less than virtuous actions to your flock." A tense flicker in his jaw was the only emotion that he reveals. "Now tell me Father do we have an understanding?"