CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Antoine and Luc walked into the offices of the diocese. They'd called ahead to speak with the current archbishop and were told he would be happy to speak with them. An elderly woman was typing something on her computer, muttering to herself as she used the ‘hunt and peck' method. They both smiled at one another then cleared their throats.

"Oh! Oh, goodness," she exclaimed. "Sorry, gentlemen. I get focused and don't see or hear anything else. How can I help you?"

"I'm Luc Robicheaux, and this is my brother, Antoine. We called and have an appointment to speak with Archbishop Sutherland."

"Yes. Yes, I see that here. One moment." She stood with some difficulty, grabbing a cane and walking down a long hallway. They could hear low conversation, then she reappeared. "You can go on down now. Last door at the end of the hall."

"Thank you, ma'am." The two brothers walked down the hallway, seeing photos of past archbishops, popes, priests, and several religious artifacts. Tapping on the door, an older man turned and smiled at them.

"Come in, come in," smiled the man. "I'm Archbishop Sutherland, but just call me Hollis."

"I'm not sure I can do that, sir," smirked Luc. "Our mother and father are deeply religious, faithful Catholics. I'd prefer to not get scolded when I get home." The man laughed, nodding at the men as he waved them to the sofa.

"I should have guessed with a name like Robicheaux and then two very French first names, Antoine and Luc, that you are Catholic. Your phone call mentioned that you wanted to speak about Father Presley."

"Yes, sir. Gus. We're trying to solve the cold case of his disappearance and the charges that were brought against him here and in Arizona. We don't believe that Gus was guilty of such a thing and want to prove it," said Antoine.

"Yes," he frowned. "I'll start with the charges of him during his time as a priest. We all knew it was bogus. There was no way that Gus would have ever, in this lifetime or another, have touched any parishioner inappropriately. But there was a letter, and the writer claimed to be his sister, so we had to follow up on it."

"Why were you so certain that he wouldn't have done it?" asked Luc.

"Do you know how when you meet someone, you immediately know that they are good? That they have a countenance, an aura, if you believe in such things, about them that tells you that they are good people?"

"I do, sir," nodded Luc. It seemed ironic that it was the same statement Lanier made about Gus.

"I met Gus in the seminary. He wasn't the smartest man. He had trouble remembering things we studied. But he made up for that by studying harder, taking more thorough notes. He was an average student, but he fought harder than any man I've ever known to be average.

"But his intelligence didn't matter. His heart, his soul was, well, exceptional. If there was ever someone born with goodness in their heart, it was Gus Presley. He was kind, giving, generous, loving, truly the perfect person to minister others.

"When we started digging into the letter, the individual who claimed she was the sister wouldn't respond to us. The letter had an address on it of Prescott, Arizona, but that address didn't even exist. Gus explained that this sister had died just weeks before, so we knew then it was a false claim. But the damage had been done for him. He was crushed that someone would hurt him in such a way."

"What about the truck and his business on the side?" asked Antoine.

"That," laughed the man, "that was pure Gus trying to help those around him. It started with someone needing assistance with moving into a new home. He had a pickup truck at the time. It was old and unreliable, so he started saving to buy an old moving truck. Then, it was the big tractor-trailer he ended up with. He was careful who he chose as clients and only moved for people that he felt had the same moral values as him."

"Then I take it you don't believe he murdered those people and left them in the desert?" said Luc.

"Absolutely not. When I tell you it's impossible, it is impossible. I argued with the investigators and anyone who would listen. Gus wasn't capable."

"Were you aware that Gus was showing signs of dementia?" asked Antoine. Sutherland let out a long, slow breath, nodding at them.

"Yes. I was aware. It was heartbreaking when he couldn't remember things. Gus prided himself on remembering names and faces. He was struggling with that, but he would have never forgotten who he was, and he would have never put those men, women, and children in the back of a hot trailer."

"He did some business for a circus. Do you know anything about that?" asked Antoine.

"I knew a bit, just because most of the time, he did it for half the price if they agreed to give tickets to the less fortunate parishioners."

"He gave away tickets?" asked Luc.

"Yes. The circus knew how dedicated he was to our community and offered him the option of a discount on his fee if they gave him tickets for the parishioners."

"Were there ever any issues with the circus?" asked Antoine.

"Issues?" he asked with confusion, shaking his head. "No. I don't think so. I mean, we had a few parents complain that their kids were taken advantage of with the midway games or that someone tried to get them to join the circus schools to teach new generations of acrobats and such. Nothing unusual."

"Archbishop, do you have any insight into what happened here? My brother and I feel certain that Gus didn't kill those people, but this is a tough one to prove, and, well, we need to prove it."

"Why?" asked the man, staring at them. "I mean, you didn't know Gus. Why is this so important for you? I sense it's almost like a mission for you."

The brothers were quiet for a moment, then Luc stood walking toward the photographs, paintings, and prints on the wall.

"When we were little, our parents took us to church every week. It was part of our routine, part of who we were as a family. My brother and I, and our other seven brothers," grinned Luc, "we all joined the military and served. We got away from going to church for a while. It felt contradictory. I mean, we were fighting bad men, sometimes killing them. That felt against what we'd been taught in church. Coming home made all those childhood memories come back for us.

"What I learned, what we learned, was that if you were a good man who performed good deeds, one bad thing didn't designate you to hell. It didn't suddenly make you a bad man.

"We believe Gus was a good man. A good man who heard or saw something that either changed him or forced someone to frame him for these murders. They wanted him gone."

"I've always believed he was innocent, and I never liked that his body wasn't found. He wouldn't have just disappeared. He had no one, nowhere to run," said Sutherland. "I believe in Gus's innocence. I don't think he could hurt a fly. It wasn't inside him."

"If he heard something during confession, is there any way to find out what that could have been?" asked Antoine.

"Oh, well, that would be difficult with him being dead," said Sutherland. "Sometimes, a priest will keep journals."

"Did Gus?" asked Luc.

"He did. They're stored in our archives since he had no family to leave them to."

"You didn't give them to the authorities?" asked Luc.

"No," he said, shaking his head. "No. We didn't offer it up, and they didn't ask. That might feel wrong, but those were Gus's personal notes during his priesthood. That happened years before years before the incident with the truck."

"Sir, may we see them? Would it be possible to read them? We want to prove that Gus wasn't a killer," said Antoine.

"I'll do you one better," said the old man, standing. "I'll allow you to check them out of the archives for one week. In one week's time, I want them back here, or I'll come and get them."

"You have our word."