“You might still be right. What did the messenger bring?”
“Oh yeah, I almost forgot. He brought an invitation from Father Patrick. It seems the show is about to begin.”
“So your gut was right about the priest. I wonder if our client has his yet.”
Henry was thinking the same thing. The traffic was pretty bad and though it wasn’t a terribly long drive back to the Flatiron Building, it was going to take a while. Henry wondered what Katarina was doing, as that usually lifted his spirits. The problem was it still seemed like the world was covered in a dark, gray mist. In truth, it was clear out, the sun was shining down on the city, and people were starting to feel the hope of spring to come.
As Mike drove, Henry, not used to being a passenger, looked out the window. He saw a man helping a woman get out of a cab. There was another person opening a door for someone with their arms full of grocery bags. Didn’t these people know that a great man had been taken from all of them?
Maybe it wasn’t the good deeds or even the loss of Mickey, he thought. Perhaps it was just the way that everything kept going, unabated. If he was honest with himself, he had gone on with his life, chasing a case, being the detective. This thought made it even worse.
He tried to picture Katarina and how she looked last night, but the image wouldn’t stay. It was the picture of Mickey on the cold street which kept coming back.
Mike parked the car two blocks away, and they walked towards the office. Leaning against the building, smoking, were Henry’s three leather-clad buddies.
“Hey fellas, what brings you around?”
Stan took a drag, trying to look cool, and was about to talk when Lawrence said, “Father Patrick has left. He was accused of being a fake, and bolted.”
Henry and Mike looked at each other, then Henry asked, “Who ratted him out?”
“Nobody knows, but the bishop was there, then Patrick left and never came back.”
“Good work, boys.” Henry handed each of them a twenty and said, “Keep your eyes and ears open. If you find out where he went, let me know.”
It was obvious by the looks on their faces that they were pleased to have helped. Henry wasn’t comfortable being looked up to, but he could grow to like these three. He and Mike headed upstairs to call the professor, get in touch with Dr. Schaeffer, and to plan the endgame. He couldn’t be sure, but Henry’s gut told him they were close to finding the killer...or not. Soon the players would be gone. It was now or never.
Chapter Fifty
Sitting in the office were Henry at his desk and the professor in the chair. Mike stood in the corner, drinking some coffee.
"Dr. Schaeffer is picking us up in a few minutes. Mike, you follow us, at a reasonable distance, and then hang out after we leave the viewing. See if you can catch a glimpse of the recently defrocked Father Patrick or anyone who’s working with him. Follow them if you can do it without being seen."
"Will do."
Bobby came in with Celine, holding a piece of paper. "Hey guys, how are we doing?"
The professor, who had grown fond of the odd, little man, said, "Bobby, good to see you. Whacha got in your hand there?"
Bobby handed the paper to the professor. "I got a call from my friend who knew a few symbols which could be found on each of the three boxes. He told me the exact book I could find them in, and the pages, and so I went to the library and traced them. I thought you would want these for the viewing."
Mike and Henry looked at each other, smiling, and the professor said, "I can't believe you found this...amazing, and thank you." The professor looked at the paper, studying each symbol closely. "This will really help me sound convincing, which I was concerned about."
Henry took a look at the symbols. "Dr. Schaeffer will be pleased. We should probably head down to the lobby, so as not to keep him waiting.”
The sedan pulled up. Hans was driving; Professor Brookert got in the front seat, while Henry joined Dr. Schaeffer in the back. They drove uptown and stopped at a corner, where a man approached and handed a piece of paper to Hans. It had the address of the viewing area. It took forty minutes to make it to the building, in a rather dodgy area. Hans stayed with the car and handed the paper to Dr. Schaeffer.
“It says go to the second floor, down to the end of the hall, and knock on the last door on the left.”
“Is this how it always goes?”
“Yes, lots of cloak and dagger stuff, though usually they give us a day's notice, not a few hours.”
“I wonder why the short notice?” the professor asked.
The building appeared to be empty, as they didn’t run across anyone in the halls or on the stairs. Henry and the professor let Dr. Schaeffer lead the way. He knocked and Patrick opened the door. Their jaws dropped. The room looked like it might be huge, but it was hard to tell, what with all the mirrors.