I hang up on him before he can reply.
I drive to Deborah Lovatt’s house, and can tell immediately that nobody is home. Her mother said she lived with two flatmates. If they’re around the same age as Deborah, then they’ll be out in town drinking or at the movies somewhere. I get out of the car and walk around, but nothing stands out as being wrong.
No busted doors. No broken windows. I leave a card wedged in the door so it hangs over the keyhole. I leave a note on the back saying it’s urgent I speak to Deborah. Deborah’s mother will have called the police, but the way things work in this city, that doesn’t mean help is coming soon.
Traffic is thick on the way back to town, full of people all looking for somewhere better to be. Queued up at the lights, I can hear the stereo in the car behind me, the thump thump thump making the chassis of my car vibrate. I can see movement in my rear-view mirror — occupants of the car are treating the ride into town as a party.
My cellphone rings and I answer it. The music from the other car drowns out Landry’s voice. I push my cellphone harder against my ear.
‘… do now?’
‘What?’ I ask.
The light turns green. The guy behind me toots his horn even though it’s been less than a second. I move through the intersection and pull over. There’s a guy dressed like Jesus sitting on the side of the road. He’s biting into an egg carton. He looks up at me, his bloodshot eyes locking onto mine, and I realise he’s at the end of the road I’ll be driving along if I decide that maybe the drinking is for me after all.
‘You there, Tate?’
‘Give me a second.’
There are toots and yells and waves as the car behind me passes. I pull away from the kerb and drive further up the road to find another park away from egg-carton guy.
‘Okay, go ahead.’
‘You’re really testing my patience, Tate. I’m at the church, so what do I do now?’
‘Head down to the confessional booths.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do it.’
‘Okay, okay. You know it sounds like you’re driving?’
‘Well, I’m not.’
‘Yeah. Okay, I’m at the booths. Now what?’
‘Open them up.’
‘What am I looking for?’
‘Check Father Julian’s side. Check the roof. The back wall.
Just check all of it.’
‘Check it for what? This tape recorder you’re telling me about?
You think Father Julian was making secret recordings?’
‘Just do it.’
‘There’s nothing in here.’
‘Yes there is. Tap the wall or something.’
‘Tap it? You think there’s a false panel?’
‘Yeah I do.’
He starts tapping the walls. The small knocks carry through his cellphone. ‘This is a goddamn waste of…’
He doesn’t follow it up, and I know what he’s found.
‘How the hell do you know about this?’ he asks.
‘Father Julian was recording the confessions. He was blackmailing people.’ I look in the mirror and see egg-carton guy walking towards me. The mirror makes him appear closer than he actually is. ‘Since you hadn’t found it already, I reasoned the tape recorder was hidden. What better place to hide it?’
‘That’s why you were following him? Fuck, Tate, why couldn’t you have told us? You sure as hell could have saved us a lot of work and a lot of pain. And finding out this way, man — it doesn’t look good. It looks like you put it there when you broke in last night.’
‘I didn’t break in. All I knew was the tape recorder had to be there somewhere, and anyway, I only just found out. Look, Julian recorded his killer, right? He knows who killed those girls.
Is there a tape in the machine?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Then listen to it. Could be the night Father Julian died, he took a confession first. It could be the last voice you hear on that tape is his killer.’
‘You need to come down to the station, Tate.’
Egg-carton guy stretches out the bottom of his shirt and starts using it to wipe down the side window. He moves it in circular motions, but it isn’t the kind of detailing my dad would have in mind. I roll the window an inch and hand him a couple of dollars. He says something but I don’t quite hear him, then he wanders away.
‘Tate? You still with me?’ Landry asks.
‘Play the tape.’
‘I’ll play the tape when I’m done with you.’
‘Maybe Julian referred to him by name.’ I say. ‘Maybe he did that because he knew what might be coming up.’
‘I’m sending somebody to pick you up.’
‘I’m not even home.’
‘How can that be? You’ve lost your licence. You out
walking?’
‘Besides, you’ve got something more important to take care of.’
‘Yeah? You got somewhere else for me to go?’
‘There’s another girl.’
‘Oh Jesus, what is it with you? Everywhere you go people are showing up dead, or never showing up again.’
‘She may not be dead. But you need to find her.’