“We think this was her map,” Malachi told him.
Roger nodded, clearly perplexed. “Yeah, I gave it to her, but I never saw her mark the map,” he said. “She was just asking me about taking a good tour of the city. She was hoping to leave soon. She’s driven—really wants to act. But she was asking me about the old church. She said she’d talked to someone who was thinking of buying it, as it hasn’t been renovated since the nightclub or worked on by the private company that bought it for historical preservation. This guy she knows wanted to make something out of it like a year-round haunted house. Pirate-themed.”
“How did she hear about it? As far as I knew, it was off the beaten tourist and business track,” Abby said.
“This guy she met, I guess.” Roger shrugged. “Maybe someone who’d taken the tour out on the Black Swan. Helen’s a sweetheart. Kids love her on that ship. Adults, too. Especially guys.”
Malachi nodded. “How about showing us the church?” he suggested.
“I can show it to you—and the catacombs and tunnels, which are kind of one and the same. But it’s against the law since it’s private property. Oh, wait—you are the law, aren’t you?”
“Sure,” Malachi said, looking at Abby. “Well, we really are the law, although I’m still a consultant. But you’re the real deal.”
“So are you,” she said softly. Her voice, her sincerity, stirred something within him.
“Okay,” Roger said, turning back to them. “Let’s go around to the side. Casually, of course. There’s an old, small iron door that was used for ice delivery. We can crawl through that and then through the hallway. Just be careful, okay. I’d rather not draw attention to us as we creep around private property.”
“We shall creep with incredible agility, and quietly,” Malachi said.
They crossed the street. It was actually easy to disappear into the many trees that surrounded the old church. Slipping around the side, Malachi realized that at one time there’d been a delivery path there; he could imagine the horse-drawn wagon that would have carried the ice blocks, could see where it must have parked for the few minutes it took the driver to make his delivery. The ice delivery “door” was about four feet off the ground and had a massive dark metal hatch that opened to allow for a space of about three feet by two.
“You can get in?” Roger asked. He gripped the handle. It was old, hadn’t been oiled in forever and didn’t budge. Malachi stepped past him. “Let me give it a try,” he said.
“I have opened it before,” Roger told him. “Seemed to be easier then.”
Malachi gripped the handle, got it into the open position, then braced a foot against the building and pulled hard. When the door gave, he had to jump back quickly to keep from falling.
“I’ll pop through first. Make sure there are no spiders or snakes!” Roger told Abby.
“You’re afraid of spiders and snakes?” Malachi asked her.
“I’m not particularly fond of either, but I don’t freak out.”
“You used to scream like a girl when you saw a spider,” Roger said.
“I am a girl, but I haven’t screamed at a spider in years,” Abby insisted. Roger merely smiled, then hiked himself up and eased his body through the opening. Abby glanced at Malachi and followed Roger, and then Malachi followed her.
He had to crawl through the old, lined wooden icebox, and when he did, he stood in a room that was shadowed and empty. After a moment his eyes adjusted and he saw something that looked like a contemporary counter against the wall. There were cups covered in spiderwebs; the floor was gritty with dust.
“Come this way,” Roger said. “There’s a hall that leads to the main church.”
Malachi set a hand on the small of Abby’s back as they started through the shadows to a door. There were drapes on the few windows down the hallway, shredded and torn in places. Daylight glinted through the rips and tears.
They came to a door that opened into the side of the main church. There were no longer pews that faced the altar, but the steps to the altar and the altar on its dais still stood. Here, there was light that seemed to spew into the interior in a number of colors. Stained-glass windows remained, none had been damaged or altered. Biblical scenes were represented in the glass, beautifully executed. Above the altar, Christ looked down at Mary Magdalene and his mother, Mary, surrounded by lambs. To one side was John the Baptist, to another, the archangel Gabriel.
The glass windows marched down both sides of the church. The blues in the glass were rich and deep, as were the crimsons. The light they admitted was eerie.
Tables had replaced the pews. When it was a nightclub, the owners had played on the religious symbols and added to them with an ironic and diabolical twist—bats dangled from the ceiling.
“The tunnel entrance is up on the dais and behind the altar,” Roger said.