In Plain Sight

Alex continued casting runes until the stack of tiles dwindled to nothing. As he finished each one, a Brother in a black cassock would take it up to a walkway that ran around the upper level, fitting it into a slot Alex had cut for them years ago. As each one went into place, the nearby leaks abruptly stopped.

As he worked, a thousand things came back to Alex. The time he scuffed up the floor with a pair of dime store roller skates. Sister Gwen had stayed up all night watching as Alex polished out the marks on his hands and knees. When Father Harry caught him smoking and made him eat the whole pack of cigarettes. He hadn’t touched another until he was out on his own. It wasn’t the plaza, but there were far worse places to grow up.

Somewhere in the middle of the stack, Father Harry came back and they spent the rest of the time catching up. It was one of the more pleasant evenings Alex had spent in a long time. Eventually, the smell of potato soup began to percolate through the hall. Based on the smell, a local butcher was giving the Mission his fresh scraps to add to the pot. Every little bit helped.

By the time Alex finished casting his runes on the roof tiles, the Brothers and Sisters of the Mission were setting out the evening meal to feed the poor. Alex couldn’t see it, but he knew that a line of ragged, downtrodden people had formed in the rain outside.

“Stay and eat with us,” Father Harry said, as Alex closed up his runewright kit and pulled on his suit jacket. Alex shook his head.

“Looks like you’ve got plenty of mouths to feed without mine. Call me when the roof leaks again.”

Father Harry put his hand on Alex’s shoulder and leaned close, as if he didn’t wish to be overheard.

“Can you come back on Saturday?” he asked quietly.

Alex thought about it, then shook his head. Saturdays were busy days in the detective business and he needed to be at the office. “I can’t on Saturday, but how about next week? I’ll come by and take you to lunch.”

Father Harry looked as if he would object, but then nodded.

“That sounds good,” he said, shaking Alex’s hand. “There’s a matter I need to discuss with you. In private.”

Alex was about to ask why the Father was acting so secretive, but his hand came away from the handshake with a five spot tucked inside.

“You know I can’t accept this,” he said, holding the bill up. Father Harry put one of his massive hands over Alex’s, closing it around the bill.

“Nonsense,” he said. “You really helped us out.”

“I can’t have you robbing the poor box to pay me,” Alex said.

Father Harry didn’t loosen his grip.

“I get a stipend from the church,” he said. “I put most of it into running this place, but I keep some back for my own use.” He looked Alex right in the eye, something he’d done often when Alex was growing up. Father Harry had a way of looking right into your soul with that gaze. “Let me do this,” he said. “The laborer is worthy of his hire.”

Alex smiled and nodded. For a moment, he was back in the mission school with the other neighborhood kids.

“First Timothy,” Alex said. “Chapter five, verse … twenty?”

“Eighteen,” Father Harry corrected. His craggy face wore a look of pride but there was sadness in his eyes.

“I’ll come by on Saturday,” Alex said. “Around noon.” His business would suffer for it, but he didn’t care. If the Father needed him, he would be there. It was as simple as that.

“Thank you, Alex,” he said. “Now get going. I’ve got work to do.”

Alex cast another Minor Barrier Rune and walked out into the rain, past the line of poor bedraggled men and women waiting for a simple meal. He made a mental note to tell Leslie about his Saturday appointment first thing tomorrow morning. She wouldn’t like it, but Alex didn’t care. If it hadn’t been for Father Harry, he might be standing in that line, soaked to the bone and waiting for the one decent meal he’d have all day.

It was late and Alex felt the strain of the last hours he spent scribing and casting runes. Magic taxed the body and mind as much as any physical work. He lit another of Burt’s cigarettes, then turned up his collar and headed for home in the flickering glow of the streetlights.

4 The Mentor

Alex caught a westbound crawler, getting off a few blocks short of the park, then took another southbound one until he saw The Lunch Box. He thought about stopping in to tell Max, the owner, about Mary, but decided against it. She’d do all right without his help and Max could go on for hours about any subject. All Alex wanted right now was a cold beer and a warm fire.