Lowball

Galahad in Blue
Part Four

It was going to suck to tell Father Squid that the precinct had closed the case on the missing jokers. Especially since Franny wasn’t sure he was a good enough actor to cover his own misgivings about that decision. But it had to be done. The priest deserved that much respect. Franny also wanted to talk to the priest about Croyd. Maybe enlist his help. If anyone could get through to the paranoid ace it might be the man who embodied, at least in Franny’s mind, the conscience of Jokertown.

He also figured a morning spent at mass wouldn’t be amiss-he’d certainly been afflicted by impure thoughts about both Apsara and Abby, and a corrosive anger toward his fellow officers and his captain. He promised himself he’d go to confess on Saturday, but for now he could try to find some peace among the polished wood and the smell of incense. He still found it hard to look at the joker Jesus crucified on a DNA helix, but he’d never been all that comfortable with the nat Jesus on his cross.

He turned the corner and was startled to see a crowd spilling out of the church doors onto the sidewalk. He mentally reviewed the liturgical calendar, but couldn’t think of any particular saint days or holidays that would have caused the crush. Some people spotted him and reacted.

“Oh thank God!”

“The police.”

“Now we’ll get some answers.”

Franny pushed through the people. From inside he heard Quasiman’s voice stretched with anxiety. “No Father! No Father!”

The hunchback stood in the center aisle twisting his fingers together and shaking his head so violently that the trail of drool that perpetually ran down his chin flew onto nearby people.

“What’s going on?” Franny asked.

“Oh thank heavens.” It was Mrs. Flannery, an energetic joker woman in her fifties who ran the altar guild with ruthless efficiency, and made certain the altar was always decorated with appropriate flowers. She was clutching a bouquet to her chest right now with her misshappen hands. “Officer Black, we can’t find Father Squid. Poor Quasi is so upset, and he has a hard time talking at the best of times. I know Father thinks he’s getting better but-”

“Mrs. Flannery, you need to focus. What do you mean you can’t find Father Squid?”

“No bed. No sleep. No eat. No Father,” Quasiman burst out. As Franny watched a portion of the joker/ace’s left arm phased out and disappeared. He seemed unaware of the loss.

A gnawing pain settled into the pit of his stomach. “Show me,” he ordered.

The entire crowd lurched into motion. Franny held up his hands. “No, if there’s evidence we have to preserve it. Quasi, take me to the rectory. The rest of you stay here, and figure out when you saw Father Squid last.”

Quasi lurched off with Franny following close behind. The priest’s bedroom was spare and very orderly. Franny remembered that the man had been a soldier in Vietnam, and the room reflected that military background. It didn’t take long to search and produced nothing. Father Squid’s office showed the same organization. There were multiple versions of the Bible on the shelves and works by great religious teachers. The desk’s surface held only a blotter, a notepad, and a pen holder. The notepad held a few notes that seemed to pertain to an upcoming sermon.

“Quasi, when did you last see Father Squid?” The joker stared at him and drooled, the saliva dripping onto the front of his T-shirt and forming a dark patch. Franny considered the last time Father Squid had come to the precinct. He had been with IBT. “Quasi, do you know where I can find IBT?” Drool. “Marcus.” Drool. “Infamous Black Tongue?” Drool. “The big snake?”

There was a flicker of comprehension in the dull eyes. “With Father.”

“Okay, when was that?”

But Quasi was gone. The office held only Franny and questions. As he walked back into the church Franny wondered if Quasi had gone to wherever his arm currently resided. Another time, another dimension, another galaxy … who knew? The hunchback, maybe, but he wasn’t saying.

The parishioners had been busy in his absence. They were on cell phones, calling friends and relatives in Jokertown, and there was a small amount of information. A security guard had seen the priest and IBT either last night or the night before, but hadn’t spoken to them, and had no idea where they were headed.

“Okay, all of you keep checking. And call me if you learn anything or if Father Squid returns.” Franny headed to the precinct.

Maseryk was on duty so it meant Franny didn’t get to march in, throw the missing joker file dramatically on the desk and announce, “This case is no longer closed!” For one thing he wasn’t pissed at Maseryk the way he was at Mendelberg, and frankly the crew-cut captain intimidated him worse than Mendelberg.

Franny laid out the situation. Maseryk rubbed a hand wearily across his face. “Damn fool, I told him to back off, leave it to the professionals.”

“Yeah, and the professionals closed it,” Franny shot back, forgetting to be intimidated.

“Watch it,” Maseryk warned. Franny folded his lips together. “The case is now active. Get on it. And find him. This is the kind of thing that can be like lighting a match in a tinderbox.”

Franny returned to his desk. He felt a sense of grim satisfaction. Until he realized that he still was nowhere, no leads, and one of Jokertown’s most revered citizens taken without a trace. Then he noticed Jamal had called. Maybe the SCARE agent would have something.…