Phantasmal
Chapter 1
“Get back in that closet!”
“Why are you doing this to me?” she asked.
“I brought you here to have some fun. It’s Halloween. But you thought you didn’t have to put out,” Hugo shouted. "You thought it was all free.”
“Mr. Miller, I have roommates. They will be worried. It’s almost midnight. Let me call them, please,” she begged.
“No, Sara. No, no, no.” He pushed her hard and locked the closet door.
He flopped backward onto the covers of a decrepit four-poster bed and tried to crawl in, but the vague memory of a whiskey bottle delayed sleep.
It lay in his left hand, and he took a swig.
“Do you want a drink?” he called out.
Sara answered feebly from the closet, “No. Please unlock the door. I’ll do what you want.”
He deposited a single blotter tab of LSD in his mouth and left the whiskey bottle dripping onto the graying sheets as he approached the closet door and stuck the key in the keyhole.
“You can come out. You think you’re so pretty. Well…you are. Let me see those legs. I’ve had a ballerina, but not a real runway model. Get out here.”
He pulled her hand, leading her to the bed, and lifted her onto it. She dropped like a feather onto the sheets.
With her trousers pushed up above her knees, he was able to caress her fairest legs.
“Not like the last girl. Her legs were prickly. Yours are lovely,” he said.
He sat down next to her on the bed.
Now, she’ll comply, he thought.
“Take off your trousers.”
“Why are you doing this to me?”
“Shut up.”
A headband with an East Indian motif stayed his long, wavy, brown locks. A gloomy candle burned dimly on the night table, and to compensate, he lifted the LED flashlight that had rolled against her thigh.
Sara Darío’s sepia-colored eyes twinkled in the intense light, and silky skin glowed over a face shaped like an inverted triangle. Brunette tresses, spun like gauze, flowed down her back and possessed an auburn luminosity.
“Where are you from?” he asked, softening his voice and offering an anodyne tone to assure himself a modicum of consent.
“Nicaragua.”
“Oh, yeah, you told me that at Scopo Divino. You told me something about being a descendent of Nicaraguan poet Rubén Darío. Whatever.”
Sara’s effulgence filled the room like moonglow, as dazzling as a stained-glass window that can never, and will never, release its observer. Bewitched by haunting eyes, Hugo felt powerless, and all he wanted to do was to make love.
He stood up and looked her over.
“You have the body of Audrey Hepburn. How much do you weigh?”
“125.”
“H…height?” he breathed out.
“5’9.”
He did not subscribe to nonsense about phantasms or anything like that but felt himself losing control and slowly becoming a believer.
“Damn….stand up and take off that color-block crap.”
She wore a lime green strapless top and red peplum over silver trousers, all very shiny.
“I want a better view of your legs and breasts.”
“How can you treat me this way? You don’t know me,” Sara pleaded. “I come from a very Catholic family. I went to Catholic schools. The modeling happened accidentally. My family didn’t want me to become a model. I have doubts, doubts.”
He spied a minute amount of scrutiny in her fisheye.
“Look at me and tell me what you see.”
“I don’t know. I’ve always had doubts. I want to become a nun.”
She began to cry.
“When did you decide that? Just now?” He started laughing and mocking her holier-than-thou airs by bowing and then scraping his hands along the decaying floor boards.
“No, I’ve been thinking about it for seven years,” she said, looking up at him.
He stood up nearly straight. “You wanted to become a nun at 16 and miss out on all the fun. What idiocy! A nun doesn’t drink, and you had more than one. Your girlfriends were having fun. So, were you. Now, take off your trousers.”
He teetered for a moment.
Suddenly, she struck him on the head with the flashlight and bolted past. As her lithe frame brushed against him, he turned 180 degrees around.
Hugo fell back on the bed and lost consciousness.
***
The chimes of the half-hour on the other side of midnight pulled him out of his transitory shangri-la. Finally able to untangle himself from the foul sheets, he reached for the flashlight, but it had taken flight, and wet spots had appeared on the front of his trousers, sheets, and seat of his pants. He opened the drawer of the night table and grabbed another flashlight.
Hugo heard the toenails of Tiny, his three-year-old Alaskan Malamute, tapping the floor outside the bedroom and, because the Persian carpet runners had worn away, he apprehended footsteps treading up and down the staircase. Through the open door, he could see Sara poised at the top, and both Sara and the dog looked scared, but, sensing his approach, Tiny stopped scratching.
This game is gonna end.
Sara leaned forward, but his hands were fast and grabbed hold, his claws digging deeply into downy shoulder flesh. Tiny growled. The smell of the earth clung to every corner of the house. She screamed as she tumbled down the stairs, step over step, and landed at the bottom.
Tangled elflocks obscured her face.
Hugo ran down, gingerly stepped around her body, and lifted a lifeless, moleskin arm.
No pulse – she’s dead.
Not knowing what to do next, Hugo fled back up the creaking stairs.
Tiny is pawing at her and whimpering – damn dog – I need to get him up here!
He slammed the bedroom door and lay down on the rumpled bed.
The old grandfather clock in the hall chimed one time. He turned over, sat up, grabbed the flashlight, and aimed it at the black door. When the keyhole reflected a sliver of light, there it was – an eye looking through the keyhole.
It was so frightening that he threw the covers over his head.
For some reason he did not understand, he lifted the covers and aimed the flashlight at the keyhole again. The eye had disappeared. Thus, emboldened to rise from the bed, he approached the only bedroom window, which was open slightly, through which he could see a full moon, the Blue Moon. With golden eyes, Max, his small but loyal black cat, gazed from the windowsill at the back garden. The trees were almost bare, and Hugo saw a figure in a flowing yellow-white gown moving back and forth.
Is it Sara?
He heard footsteps on the crackling leaves.
The windowsill was cool and damp, and the smell of cat fur and milk frightened him.
He felt like an engine running at full speed but going nowhere.
It’s a ghost.
Sweat poured down his neck.
Dizziness forced him back toward the bed.
Water – I need water.
Not knowing what to do, he began pacing, thinking about his erstwhile friend, Johnny Baba, in the Haight Ashbury.
He will know what to do.
Just like the body of the dead woman, Tiny had disappeared.
Where’s she gone? Did she just float up and out through the walls?
Hugo thought he could hear Tiny’s toenails on the first floor and felt compelled to look for the beast. Down the stairs Hugo flashed and when he reached the bottom, he raced to the front door and unlocked it. The moonlight was bright and drew him around the side of the house to the back garden.
At the garden’s farthest end loomed a newer structure, made of oak and brick, unlike the ancient stones of the house. He entered through a side door and aimed the flashlight around the empty anatomy of the garage. On the ceiling hung a cauldron of bats, whose clicking sounds pinged off the wooden walls and confirmed his fear that they were about to take flight.
He quietly closed the side door and stood there, the light of his cell phone a propitious sight, because Johnny had told him he could call any time…even in the middle of the night.
They had met on Haight Street when Hugo was homeless and Johnny walked the forlorn streets of the Haight Ashbury. He had offered to help Hugo overcome his addictions and reminded him of his Jewish roots when both discovered they were far away from parents. Hugo saw in Johnny a peaceable friend and big brother.
Hugo heard the toenails of Tiny, his three-year-old Alaskan Malamute, tapping the floor outside the bedroom and, because the Persian carpet runners had worn away, he apprehended footsteps treading up and down the staircase. Through the open door, he could see Sara poised at the top, and both Sara and the dog looked scared, but, sensing his approach, Tiny stopped scratching.
This game is gonna end.
Sara leaned forward, but his hands were fast and grabbed hold, his claws digging deeply into downy shoulder flesh. Tiny growled. The smell of the earth clung to every corner of the house. She screamed as she tumbled down the stairs, step over step, and landed at the bottom.
Tangled elflocks obscured her face.
Hugo ran down, gingerly stepped around her body, and lifted a lifeless, moleskin arm.
No pulse – she’s dead.
Not knowing what to do next, Hugo fled back up the creaking stairs.
Tiny is pawing at her and whimpering – damn dog – I need to get him up here!
He slammed the bedroom door and lay down on the rumpled bed.
The old grandfather clock in the hall chimed one time. He turned over, sat up, grabbed the flashlight, and aimed it at the black door. When the keyhole reflected a sliver of light, there it was – an eye looking through the keyhole.
It was so frightening that he threw the covers over his head.
For some reason he did not understand, he lifted the covers and aimed the flashlight at the keyhole again. The eye had disappeared. Thus, emboldened to rise from the bed, he approached the only bedroom window, which was open slightly, through which he could see a full moon, the Blue Moon. With golden eyes, Max, his small but loyal black cat, gazed from the windowsill at the back garden. The trees were almost bare, and Hugo saw a figure in a flowing yellow-white gown moving back and forth.
Is it Sara?
He heard footsteps on the crackling leaves.
The windowsill was cool and damp, and the smell of cat fur and milk frightened him.
He felt like an engine running at full speed but going nowhere.
It’s a ghost.
Sweat poured down his neck.
Dizziness forced him back toward the bed.
Water – I need water.
Not knowing what to do, he began pacing, thinking about his erstwhile friend, Johnny Baba, in the Haight Ashbury.
He will know what to do.
Just like the body of the dead woman, Tiny had disappeared.
Where’s she gone? Did she just float up and out through the walls?
Hugo thought he could hear Tiny’s toenails on the first floor and felt compelled to look for the beast. Down the stairs Hugo flashed and when he reached the bottom, he raced to the front door and unlocked it. The moonlight was bright and drew him around the side of the house to the back garden.
At the garden’s farthest end loomed a newer structure, made of oak and brick, unlike the ancient stones of the house. He entered through a side door and aimed the flashlight around the empty anatomy of the garage. On the ceiling hung a cauldron of bats, whose clicking sounds pinged off the wooden walls and confirmed his fear that they were about to take flight.
He quietly closed the side door and stood there, the light of his cell phone a propitious sight, because Johnny had told him he could call any time…even in the middle of the night.
They had met on Haight Street when Hugo was homeless and Johnny walked the forlorn streets of the Haight Ashbury. He had offered to help Hugo overcome his addictions and reminded him of his Jewish roots when both discovered they were far away from parents. Hugo saw in Johnny a peaceable friend and big brother.
Chapter 2
“Johnny, I need you right away.”
“Is that you, Hugo? What’s wrong?”
“I need you right away.”
“Where are you?”
“At the house. You know the address?”
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a ghost wandering around the house…and I think she’s going to kill me.”
“Are you drinking?”
“No!”
“All right. I can be there in about 20 minutes. I have the address.”
Hugo sensed a haboob slowly rolling by, ran a hand through his hair, and felt the sand on his scalp.
No ghost. I should be able to see it – I have perfect vision…and the Moon.
Then, absolute silence.
He sat down on the weeds and covered his head with both hands until the sound of an automobile engine made him rise and stand. He ducked and weaved through the garden and reached the limestone stairs leading up from the sidewalk.
Johnny Baba was climbing the stairs. It was hard to see him dressed all in black. The white Roman collar reassured Hugo that the face, which was as black as a black diamond, belonged to the man from Nigeria.
He kept his word.
“Where’s the ghost?” Johnny asked.
“I felt her pass by.”
“Let’s go inside, Hugo.”
Hugo felt the presence of the ghostly spirit inside the house.
“Before doing an exorcism, I have to call the archbishop and get his permission.”
“There’s no time to waste. The ghost is here.”
“Why don’t you leave?” Johnny asked.
“Where would I go?”
“You won’t be in any more danger if you leave.”
“This is where I live.”
Johnny set his black case down on the first step of the staircase and made some phone calls.
Hugo looked down at where Sara’s body had been earlier and saw no blood on the floor.
The ghost must’ve cleaned the floor.
Hugo was feeling jumpy.
Johnny said, “My team is on the way. They should all be here in about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, sit down and be calm.”
Hugo asked, “How many people are coming?”
“Three. A married couple and a very big man.”
“Can they be trusted?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Did you do something?”
“No. No.”
“Tell me who was here with you.”
“No one. No one.”
“Hugo, you’re lying.”
“I…have always been honest with you,” he said, gulping the last word. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No. Where did you see the ghost? In the house?”
“In the garden.”
Johnny removed his black overcoat and said, “It’s cold out tonight.”
“Let me take that for you, Johnny.”
Hugo walked into the living room and draped it over a dirty settee.
“From now on, refer to me as Father. Is there any electricity in the house?”
“No. Does it matter?” Hugo asked.
“The flashlight and my candle will be good enough.”
“There’s a candle in the bedroom.”
“Where is the ghost now?” Father Johnny asked.
“I don’t know. I felt a hot breeze outside in the garden.”
“My suspicion is that it will enter the house again once everyone is here.”
“How do you know that?”
“My training.”
“What do you mean?”
“The ghost will see everything you are seeing now and react violently, especially when I sprinkle the holy water.”
“You mean on the ghost?”
“Yes.”
“Should you do that? Make the ghost angry?”
“It’s the only way to bring the evil one or his minions out. Then I can confront them.”
“Do you speak to the ghost? Her name is Sara.”
“How do you know this?” Father Johnny asked.
“Oh, I heard the ghost speak her name...as if I had asked for it.”
“That may be a lie. The father of all lies is the devil. I will ask for a name, and the evil spirit will give it.”
“Will you speak Latin?”
“Yes. This is an exorcism of a house, so there’s no need to consult with a psychiatrist.”
“I’m not crazy!”
Is he doubting me?
“Do you smell something?” Hugo asked.
“It’s adipocere.”
“What’s that?”
“Rotting flesh. Did anyone die in this house?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here about 11 months.”
“Do you sleepwalk?” Father Johnny asked.
“No.”
“Have you seen any other bodies in noctambulation?”
“You mean, have I ever seen others sleepwalking around this house?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Do you have a good memory, Hugo?”
“Well, yes, when I’m not…”
“Taking mind-altering drugs? Did you do any tonight?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You may find yourself forgetting details. We all have that strange feeling when we remember something but can’t get the words out.”
“You…mean…jamais vu?”
“Never seen. You experience a situation that is somehow recognizable but seems new. Your memory seems to be okay. That may be important during the exorcism.”
“Why?” Hugo asked.
“The demon may challenge your memory…or mine. I just want you to be aware of it.”
“But…I thought this was an exorcism of the house, not me?”
“Yes, but you live here, and the demon is harassing you. The demon is suspended here, and I’m going to get it unstuck, so it can move on. There may be more than one demon.”
Hugo heard footsteps outside.
“That will be my team,” Father Johnny said, “and take off the Che Guevara shirt. It’s another portal for the devil and his demons.”
Father Johnny’s Nigerian accent made it all seem more mysterious. Hugo wanted to leave the shirt on but was so fearful of what might happen next that he took it off. Now, he was bare-chested and feeling more vulnerable.
The big man came in first. He stood as tall as a redwood.
“This is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is Hugo.”
Ronnie shook Hugo’s small hand.
“This is Connie Chalapa and Marco Chalapa. They are part of my team. Is everyone ready?”
They walked up the stairs to the bedroom and formed a circle around the bed. Connie was a big Mexican girl and wore heavy rimmed glasses that obscured any tenderness. Marco was bigger and owned a potbelly but had a kindly countenance.
Father Johnny was the first to speak. “Did you feel that?”
Connie, Marco, and Ronnie nodded.
“I didn’t feel anything,” Hugo said.
The Chalapa’s and Ronnie moved back a few feet.
“Hugo, stand in between the Chalapa’s,” Father Johnny commanded.
He set the black case on the night table and opened it. Out came a crucifix, candle, small bottle of water, and gilt-edged book with red and black ribbons sticking out. He lifted a purple cloth and hung it around his neck.
“In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
“Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in ‘our battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places.’
“Come to the assistance of men whom God has created to His likeness and whom He has redeemed at a great price from the tyranny of the devil. The Holy Church venerates you as her guardian and protector; to you, the Lord has entrusted the souls of the redeemed to be led into heaven. Pray therefore the God of Peace to crush Satan beneath our feet, that he may no longer retain men captive and do injury to the Church. Offer our prayers to the Most High, that without delay they may draw His mercy down upon us; take hold of ‘the dragon, the old serpent, which is the devil and Satan,’ bind him and cast him into the bottomless pit ‘that he may no longer seduce the nations.’"
Hugo did not understand another word that was said; he only knew it was the Roman Catholic Rite of Exorcism. Now, everything became even more frightening.
Several times Hugo felt the floor under him shake, and a rumbling sound like thunder filled the room. He noticed that Father Johnny held onto a rosary. The smell of iron permeated the room. A dog howled. The door slammed shut, and the candles flickered. Then all went black.
“Is that you, Hugo? What’s wrong?”
“I need you right away.”
“Where are you?”
“At the house. You know the address?”
“What’s going on?”
“There’s a ghost wandering around the house…and I think she’s going to kill me.”
“Are you drinking?”
“No!”
“All right. I can be there in about 20 minutes. I have the address.”
Hugo sensed a haboob slowly rolling by, ran a hand through his hair, and felt the sand on his scalp.
No ghost. I should be able to see it – I have perfect vision…and the Moon.
Then, absolute silence.
He sat down on the weeds and covered his head with both hands until the sound of an automobile engine made him rise and stand. He ducked and weaved through the garden and reached the limestone stairs leading up from the sidewalk.
Johnny Baba was climbing the stairs. It was hard to see him dressed all in black. The white Roman collar reassured Hugo that the face, which was as black as a black diamond, belonged to the man from Nigeria.
He kept his word.
“Where’s the ghost?” Johnny asked.
“I felt her pass by.”
“Let’s go inside, Hugo.”
Hugo felt the presence of the ghostly spirit inside the house.
“Before doing an exorcism, I have to call the archbishop and get his permission.”
“There’s no time to waste. The ghost is here.”
“Why don’t you leave?” Johnny asked.
“Where would I go?”
“You won’t be in any more danger if you leave.”
“This is where I live.”
Johnny set his black case down on the first step of the staircase and made some phone calls.
Hugo looked down at where Sara’s body had been earlier and saw no blood on the floor.
The ghost must’ve cleaned the floor.
Hugo was feeling jumpy.
Johnny said, “My team is on the way. They should all be here in about 20 minutes. Meanwhile, sit down and be calm.”
Hugo asked, “How many people are coming?”
“Three. A married couple and a very big man.”
“Can they be trusted?”
“Of course. Why do you ask? Did you do something?”
“No. No.”
“Tell me who was here with you.”
“No one. No one.”
“Hugo, you’re lying.”
“I…have always been honest with you,” he said, gulping the last word. “Do you want something to drink?”
“No. Where did you see the ghost? In the house?”
“In the garden.”
Johnny removed his black overcoat and said, “It’s cold out tonight.”
“Let me take that for you, Johnny.”
Hugo walked into the living room and draped it over a dirty settee.
“From now on, refer to me as Father. Is there any electricity in the house?”
“No. Does it matter?” Hugo asked.
“The flashlight and my candle will be good enough.”
“There’s a candle in the bedroom.”
“Where is the ghost now?” Father Johnny asked.
“I don’t know. I felt a hot breeze outside in the garden.”
“My suspicion is that it will enter the house again once everyone is here.”
“How do you know that?”
“My training.”
“What do you mean?”
“The ghost will see everything you are seeing now and react violently, especially when I sprinkle the holy water.”
“You mean on the ghost?”
“Yes.”
“Should you do that? Make the ghost angry?”
“It’s the only way to bring the evil one or his minions out. Then I can confront them.”
“Do you speak to the ghost? Her name is Sara.”
“How do you know this?” Father Johnny asked.
“Oh, I heard the ghost speak her name...as if I had asked for it.”
“That may be a lie. The father of all lies is the devil. I will ask for a name, and the evil spirit will give it.”
“Will you speak Latin?”
“Yes. This is an exorcism of a house, so there’s no need to consult with a psychiatrist.”
“I’m not crazy!”
Is he doubting me?
“Do you smell something?” Hugo asked.
“It’s adipocere.”
“What’s that?”
“Rotting flesh. Did anyone die in this house?”
“I don’t know. I’ve only been here about 11 months.”
“Do you sleepwalk?” Father Johnny asked.
“No.”
“Have you seen any other bodies in noctambulation?”
“You mean, have I ever seen others sleepwalking around this house?”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Do you have a good memory, Hugo?”
“Well, yes, when I’m not…”
“Taking mind-altering drugs? Did you do any tonight?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You may find yourself forgetting details. We all have that strange feeling when we remember something but can’t get the words out.”
“You…mean…jamais vu?”
“Never seen. You experience a situation that is somehow recognizable but seems new. Your memory seems to be okay. That may be important during the exorcism.”
“Why?” Hugo asked.
“The demon may challenge your memory…or mine. I just want you to be aware of it.”
“But…I thought this was an exorcism of the house, not me?”
“Yes, but you live here, and the demon is harassing you. The demon is suspended here, and I’m going to get it unstuck, so it can move on. There may be more than one demon.”
Hugo heard footsteps outside.
“That will be my team,” Father Johnny said, “and take off the Che Guevara shirt. It’s another portal for the devil and his demons.”
Father Johnny’s Nigerian accent made it all seem more mysterious. Hugo wanted to leave the shirt on but was so fearful of what might happen next that he took it off. Now, he was bare-chested and feeling more vulnerable.
The big man came in first. He stood as tall as a redwood.
“This is Ronnie. Ronnie, this is Hugo.”
Ronnie shook Hugo’s small hand.
“This is Connie Chalapa and Marco Chalapa. They are part of my team. Is everyone ready?”
They walked up the stairs to the bedroom and formed a circle around the bed. Connie was a big Mexican girl and wore heavy rimmed glasses that obscured any tenderness. Marco was bigger and owned a potbelly but had a kindly countenance.
Father Johnny was the first to speak. “Did you feel that?”
Connie, Marco, and Ronnie nodded.
“I didn’t feel anything,” Hugo said.
The Chalapa’s and Ronnie moved back a few feet.
“Hugo, stand in between the Chalapa’s,” Father Johnny commanded.
He set the black case on the night table and opened it. Out came a crucifix, candle, small bottle of water, and gilt-edged book with red and black ribbons sticking out. He lifted a purple cloth and hung it around his neck.
“In the name of the Father, of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.
“Most glorious Prince of the Heavenly Armies, Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in ‘our battle against principalities and powers, against the rulers of this world of darkness, against the spirits of wickedness in the high places.’
“Come to the assistance of men whom God has created to His likeness and whom He has redeemed at a great price from the tyranny of the devil. The Holy Church venerates you as her guardian and protector; to you, the Lord has entrusted the souls of the redeemed to be led into heaven. Pray therefore the God of Peace to crush Satan beneath our feet, that he may no longer retain men captive and do injury to the Church. Offer our prayers to the Most High, that without delay they may draw His mercy down upon us; take hold of ‘the dragon, the old serpent, which is the devil and Satan,’ bind him and cast him into the bottomless pit ‘that he may no longer seduce the nations.’"
Hugo did not understand another word that was said; he only knew it was the Roman Catholic Rite of Exorcism. Now, everything became even more frightening.
Several times Hugo felt the floor under him shake, and a rumbling sound like thunder filled the room. He noticed that Father Johnny held onto a rosary. The smell of iron permeated the room. A dog howled. The door slammed shut, and the candles flickered. Then all went black.
***
He awoke from a deep sleep to find that Father Johnny and Ronnie were standing directly over him, looking down with their arms extended, as if they were ready to crush the life out of him. Hugo hoisted himself into a sitting position, triggering the memory of a switchblade in his back pocket. He slyly reached for it and pushed the button. Father Johnny and Ronnie jumped back.
“Don’t come near me. I know you want to kill me.”
Hugo got to his feet and waved the knife at Father Johnny.
“Step back, Johnny.”
“Hugo, put the knife down. Everything is under control. There is no evil spirit in the house,” Father Johnny said with a quiver in his voice.
“I don’t believe you. I saw the ghost outside. It’s still there. Get back or I will kill you.”
Ronnie quickly knocked the knife out of Hugo’s hand, kicked it across the floor, jumped on Hugo, and pinned him to the filthy floor. The Chalapa’s stepped back, and Father Johnny took a spot even further away. Hugo, quite placated by Ronnie’s big hands around his throat and a heavy knee on his chest, couldn’t catch his breath.
“Get him some water,” said Father Johnny.
Connie Chalapa left the room.
When she returned, Ronnie removed his knee, and they helped Hugo drink it down.
He instantly felt better.
Father Johnny said, “I recommend that you leave the house, Hugo. It is wreaking havoc with your emotions. I can place you in a good homeless shelter south of Market. You will be taken care of there.”
Hugo knew it was not safe to remain and agreed. He gathered his belongings, which fit into a single duffle bag, and, with the aid of the team, was escorted out into Father Johnny’s pale green Toyota Prius.
It was half past two in the morning when, at the shelter, and with a hand that ached, Hugo signed in and fell asleep posthaste.
“Don’t come near me. I know you want to kill me.”
Hugo got to his feet and waved the knife at Father Johnny.
“Step back, Johnny.”
“Hugo, put the knife down. Everything is under control. There is no evil spirit in the house,” Father Johnny said with a quiver in his voice.
“I don’t believe you. I saw the ghost outside. It’s still there. Get back or I will kill you.”
Ronnie quickly knocked the knife out of Hugo’s hand, kicked it across the floor, jumped on Hugo, and pinned him to the filthy floor. The Chalapa’s stepped back, and Father Johnny took a spot even further away. Hugo, quite placated by Ronnie’s big hands around his throat and a heavy knee on his chest, couldn’t catch his breath.
“Get him some water,” said Father Johnny.
Connie Chalapa left the room.
When she returned, Ronnie removed his knee, and they helped Hugo drink it down.
He instantly felt better.
Father Johnny said, “I recommend that you leave the house, Hugo. It is wreaking havoc with your emotions. I can place you in a good homeless shelter south of Market. You will be taken care of there.”
Hugo knew it was not safe to remain and agreed. He gathered his belongings, which fit into a single duffle bag, and, with the aid of the team, was escorted out into Father Johnny’s pale green Toyota Prius.
It was half past two in the morning when, at the shelter, and with a hand that ached, Hugo signed in and fell asleep posthaste.
Chapter 3
Father Johnny awoke with a terrible headache, not just for the lack of sleep, but also for the profound distress he felt over his performance the night before. The depression he had suffered from for years had returned. It was a depression that had been exacerbated by his departure from Nigeria at the age of 18, resulting in a terrible separation from the two people he could always count on for love.
Nay, he realized, the depression had never left.
I must call my psychiatrist, he thought.
He recalled the words of Ignatius, his hero: “Pray as if everything depended on God; act as if everything depended on you.” So, he began the Morning Offering, and once that was done, he called Doctor Nowak and made an appointment for later.
Meanwhile, breakfast awaited him in the community dining room.
Much to his surprise, he had been given a room on the top floor of Loyola House, which sat atop Lone Mountain. He had thought that only American Jesuits with long tenure at the University of San Francisco would occupy such illustrious rooms. Still, he was hungry enough to “eat a wild boar”, an old Nigerian phrase recently obsoleted by the quickly spreading disease of African swine fever.
At table, he discussed the incident from the night before. Several Jesuits became alarmed, and one referred him to Inspector Larry Leahy of the San Francisco Police Department. So, the new plan was to call Inspector Leahy…but not before Mass.
Because of COVID-19 shelter in place rules, he said Mass at Loyola House. It was now Sunday, November 1, 2020, All Saints Day.
From the sacristy he called Inspector Leahy.
“Inspector Leahy, this is Father Xavier Baba, associate pastor at St. Agnes.”
Larry responded in a deep, distant voice, “What can I do for you, Father Baba?”
“On the street, I go by Father Johnny. I was given your name to report an incident that happened last night. A man living in Pacific Heights threatened me with a knife. He said he was going to kill me.”
Father Johnny wondered if an American cop could detect nervousness or depression. This call was his first contact with a detective, and he imagined that they were well trained to detect weakness.
I’m not being dishonest, just not sure of what is happening.
“Jesuit?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Jesuits educated me. Did you call 9-1-1?”
“No. This morning up at Loyola House I was given your name. My Jesuit brothers said that you have an excellent reputation and you are Catholic.”
“Thanks. Tell me why you didn’t call 9-1-1,” Larry responded.
“The threat came during an exorcism of a house where the man is a squatter. My team was with me, and Ronnie Milpitas, deacon at St. Agnes and retired military man, was able to get the knife away from the man, and we took him to a homeless shelter.”
“What’s the man’s name?”
“Hugo Miller.”
“How old is he?”
“I think he’s 28.”
“Where is he from?”
“New Orleans,” Father Johnny answered.
“All right. Let me run a background check, and I’ll get back to you.”
The wheels are set in motion. What will happen next?
Father Johnny said a Hail Mary and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, his cell phone rang.
“Father Johnny, Hugo Miller has no record. Tell me more about the incident last night.”
Father Johnny spent the next ten minutes explaining the circumstances.
Inspector Leahy listened without interrupting.
“All right. I’ll ask Inspector Trang to join me, and we’ll go out to the house and see what is going on. I will pick you up in about half an hour. I don’t believe in ghosts, but the threat to your life must be taken seriously, and I suspect there is a whole lot more to this situation than you are aware of. I’m sending a patrol car out to pick up Hugo Miller and bring him in for questioning. Can you be ready?”
“Yes, of course. Should I bring anything?”
“Do you have a key to the house?”
“No. Hugo locked the front door when we left last night and still has the key.”
“We’ll find a way in.”
***
Lead Inspector Leahy and Inspector Hieu Trang, a rookie detective who had worked with Leahy on nine previous homicide investigations, arrived at the decaying mansion with Father Johnny at quarter to 11. Together they ascended the limestone stairs of the Romanesque structure. Larry looked it over. Its impressive fenestration, turret, parapet, and relief designs appeared to be stable. Larry jiggled the front door handle, which broke off. He led them to the side gate, which was locked. He searched for an open window, all of them double hung, found one that was broken, and carefully reached in and unlocked the hinge.
After all three had climbed through the window, Larry yelled as loud as he could, “San Francisco Police. If anyone is present, identify yourself now.”
No answer.
“Was last night the first time you were here?” Hieu whispered.
“Yes.”
“This is the creepiest place I’ve ever been in,” Hieu said.
Father Johnny brought them to the foot of the staircase.
Before ascending, Larry announced their presence again.
No answer.
Larry led the way. Half-way up they heard a noise that sounded like scratching. Larry stopped when he saw a huge dog at the top. Larry had placed his right hand on the service revolver under his suit jacket.
A cool breeze flowed down the staircase.
“Did you feel that, Hieu? There’s an open window up there,” Larry said.
The dog lay down, and a weak voice said, “Helloooo. Helloooo.”
Larry looked behind and ahead and said, “Who are you?”
A young woman appeared at the top of the staircase with her hands raised.
“Identify yourself, miss.”
“Sara Darío.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I can’t get out.”
“How did you get inside?”
“Hugo Miller brought me here. Is he still here?”
“No. How do you know Mr. Miller?” Hieu asked.
“I met him at a nightclub last night.”
“Why did you come here?”
“He persuaded me. He told me he was a photographer and wanted to take pictures of me in a mansion. I thought it was safe.”
Larry rushed up the remaining stairs as Sara collapsed beside the dog.
The dog began licking her face.
Larry cradled her head. Her eyes were open, but she appeared to be dehydrated.
“Hieu, get some washcloths and a couple of bottled waters out of the cooler in the back of my car. When was the last time you had something to eat, Sara?” he asked.
“Last night. What time is it?”
Larry rechecked his watch. “11.”
Hieu jaunted up the stairs as quick as a goblin and placed a gray cloth soaked in water on her forehead.
“All right, you’ll be fine. Hieu, see if you can find something to eat. Look around the kitchen.”
Father Johnny knelt beside Sara and said, “You’ll be okay. I’m Father Johnny, and this is Inspector Leahy of the San Francisco Police Department. We’ll take care of you.”
When she rubbed her eyes, the conjunctivas were as red as red diamonds.
“There’s no need to cry anymore,” Father Johnny said.
Her blouse was torn.
Larry pushed the dog out of the way.
“No, please let him stay here. Tiny has been my companion all night.”
Hieu had found an apple and an orange. He peeled the orange and handed the quarters to her one-by-one.
Shortly, she appeared to be revived.
“Hieu, find her a chair.”
Hieu returned with a heavy, ornate armchair that was upholstered in deep garnet velvet and had been ruptured in several places.
They sat her down.
Larry took Hieu aside. Father Johnny stayed back to comfort Sara but could hear what was said.
“What we’ve got here is a kidnapping. There’s no ghost, so get over your jitters. We have at least two crimes: a kidnapping and the attempted murder of Father Johnny. We’ll find out more about the circumstances of what happened last night and Mr. Miller’s true intentions. Consider this: kidnapping, attempted rape, attempted murder, and the possible attempted murder of this woman.”
Larry explained the situation to Father Johnny who appeared to be shocked at the gravity of the situation. He left Sara’s side and asked Hieu to assist her. Then he spoke. “Inspector Leahy, I’m sorry I let myself get into this mess. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. We’ll handle it from here. You did what you thought was best. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You need to get back to your regular duties. Just stay connected to me by phone. We’ll take Sara for an examination and then home. Don’t worry about it.”
“What if all you say is true?”
Nay, he realized, the depression had never left.
I must call my psychiatrist, he thought.
He recalled the words of Ignatius, his hero: “Pray as if everything depended on God; act as if everything depended on you.” So, he began the Morning Offering, and once that was done, he called Doctor Nowak and made an appointment for later.
Meanwhile, breakfast awaited him in the community dining room.
Much to his surprise, he had been given a room on the top floor of Loyola House, which sat atop Lone Mountain. He had thought that only American Jesuits with long tenure at the University of San Francisco would occupy such illustrious rooms. Still, he was hungry enough to “eat a wild boar”, an old Nigerian phrase recently obsoleted by the quickly spreading disease of African swine fever.
At table, he discussed the incident from the night before. Several Jesuits became alarmed, and one referred him to Inspector Larry Leahy of the San Francisco Police Department. So, the new plan was to call Inspector Leahy…but not before Mass.
Because of COVID-19 shelter in place rules, he said Mass at Loyola House. It was now Sunday, November 1, 2020, All Saints Day.
From the sacristy he called Inspector Leahy.
“Inspector Leahy, this is Father Xavier Baba, associate pastor at St. Agnes.”
Larry responded in a deep, distant voice, “What can I do for you, Father Baba?”
“On the street, I go by Father Johnny. I was given your name to report an incident that happened last night. A man living in Pacific Heights threatened me with a knife. He said he was going to kill me.”
Father Johnny wondered if an American cop could detect nervousness or depression. This call was his first contact with a detective, and he imagined that they were well trained to detect weakness.
I’m not being dishonest, just not sure of what is happening.
“Jesuit?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The Jesuits educated me. Did you call 9-1-1?”
“No. This morning up at Loyola House I was given your name. My Jesuit brothers said that you have an excellent reputation and you are Catholic.”
“Thanks. Tell me why you didn’t call 9-1-1,” Larry responded.
“The threat came during an exorcism of a house where the man is a squatter. My team was with me, and Ronnie Milpitas, deacon at St. Agnes and retired military man, was able to get the knife away from the man, and we took him to a homeless shelter.”
“What’s the man’s name?”
“Hugo Miller.”
“How old is he?”
“I think he’s 28.”
“Where is he from?”
“New Orleans,” Father Johnny answered.
“All right. Let me run a background check, and I’ll get back to you.”
The wheels are set in motion. What will happen next?
Father Johnny said a Hail Mary and waited.
Fifteen minutes later, his cell phone rang.
“Father Johnny, Hugo Miller has no record. Tell me more about the incident last night.”
Father Johnny spent the next ten minutes explaining the circumstances.
Inspector Leahy listened without interrupting.
“All right. I’ll ask Inspector Trang to join me, and we’ll go out to the house and see what is going on. I will pick you up in about half an hour. I don’t believe in ghosts, but the threat to your life must be taken seriously, and I suspect there is a whole lot more to this situation than you are aware of. I’m sending a patrol car out to pick up Hugo Miller and bring him in for questioning. Can you be ready?”
“Yes, of course. Should I bring anything?”
“Do you have a key to the house?”
“No. Hugo locked the front door when we left last night and still has the key.”
“We’ll find a way in.”
***
Lead Inspector Leahy and Inspector Hieu Trang, a rookie detective who had worked with Leahy on nine previous homicide investigations, arrived at the decaying mansion with Father Johnny at quarter to 11. Together they ascended the limestone stairs of the Romanesque structure. Larry looked it over. Its impressive fenestration, turret, parapet, and relief designs appeared to be stable. Larry jiggled the front door handle, which broke off. He led them to the side gate, which was locked. He searched for an open window, all of them double hung, found one that was broken, and carefully reached in and unlocked the hinge.
After all three had climbed through the window, Larry yelled as loud as he could, “San Francisco Police. If anyone is present, identify yourself now.”
No answer.
“Was last night the first time you were here?” Hieu whispered.
“Yes.”
“This is the creepiest place I’ve ever been in,” Hieu said.
Father Johnny brought them to the foot of the staircase.
Before ascending, Larry announced their presence again.
No answer.
Larry led the way. Half-way up they heard a noise that sounded like scratching. Larry stopped when he saw a huge dog at the top. Larry had placed his right hand on the service revolver under his suit jacket.
A cool breeze flowed down the staircase.
“Did you feel that, Hieu? There’s an open window up there,” Larry said.
The dog lay down, and a weak voice said, “Helloooo. Helloooo.”
Larry looked behind and ahead and said, “Who are you?”
A young woman appeared at the top of the staircase with her hands raised.
“Identify yourself, miss.”
“Sara Darío.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I can’t get out.”
“How did you get inside?”
“Hugo Miller brought me here. Is he still here?”
“No. How do you know Mr. Miller?” Hieu asked.
“I met him at a nightclub last night.”
“Why did you come here?”
“He persuaded me. He told me he was a photographer and wanted to take pictures of me in a mansion. I thought it was safe.”
Larry rushed up the remaining stairs as Sara collapsed beside the dog.
The dog began licking her face.
Larry cradled her head. Her eyes were open, but she appeared to be dehydrated.
“Hieu, get some washcloths and a couple of bottled waters out of the cooler in the back of my car. When was the last time you had something to eat, Sara?” he asked.
“Last night. What time is it?”
Larry rechecked his watch. “11.”
Hieu jaunted up the stairs as quick as a goblin and placed a gray cloth soaked in water on her forehead.
“All right, you’ll be fine. Hieu, see if you can find something to eat. Look around the kitchen.”
Father Johnny knelt beside Sara and said, “You’ll be okay. I’m Father Johnny, and this is Inspector Leahy of the San Francisco Police Department. We’ll take care of you.”
When she rubbed her eyes, the conjunctivas were as red as red diamonds.
“There’s no need to cry anymore,” Father Johnny said.
Her blouse was torn.
Larry pushed the dog out of the way.
“No, please let him stay here. Tiny has been my companion all night.”
Hieu had found an apple and an orange. He peeled the orange and handed the quarters to her one-by-one.
Shortly, she appeared to be revived.
“Hieu, find her a chair.”
Hieu returned with a heavy, ornate armchair that was upholstered in deep garnet velvet and had been ruptured in several places.
They sat her down.
Larry took Hieu aside. Father Johnny stayed back to comfort Sara but could hear what was said.
“What we’ve got here is a kidnapping. There’s no ghost, so get over your jitters. We have at least two crimes: a kidnapping and the attempted murder of Father Johnny. We’ll find out more about the circumstances of what happened last night and Mr. Miller’s true intentions. Consider this: kidnapping, attempted rape, attempted murder, and the possible attempted murder of this woman.”
Larry explained the situation to Father Johnny who appeared to be shocked at the gravity of the situation. He left Sara’s side and asked Hieu to assist her. Then he spoke. “Inspector Leahy, I’m sorry I let myself get into this mess. What can I do to help?”
“Nothing. We’ll handle it from here. You did what you thought was best. Don’t beat yourself up over it. You need to get back to your regular duties. Just stay connected to me by phone. We’ll take Sara for an examination and then home. Don’t worry about it.”
“What if all you say is true?”
Chapter 4
Larry and Hieu prepared for the interview of Hugo Miller in Central Station’s Interrogation Room #2. Dressed in blue jeans and his Che Guevarra shirt, Hugo was brought in, uncuffed, and told to sit down.
“Mr. Miller, the interview will be recorded.”
Larry flipped the switch of the recorder, which was inside a clear acrylic box and secured in a wall inset. The table and two chairs, one on either side, were locked to the floor.
Hieu stood against the wall where the two-way mirror was located.
Larry said, “State your full name and where you were born.”
“Hugo Miller, New Orleans.”
“What’s your occupation?”
“Musician.”
“Your address?”
“Uh…”
“Right. Father Johnny told me you’ve been living in the mansion for about one year. Do you know the owners?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen them?”
“No.”
“You’re guilty of trespass. Now, about last night...”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Let me do the questioning.”
Hieu interrupted. “Mr. Miller. Sara Darío is safe. Father Johnny told us there was no ghost.”
“But there was...I saw it.”
Larry stood up. “The young woman was locked inside the mansion until this morning when we got her out. She’s at San Francisco General and will be interviewed there after we’re done with you. She was banged up with cuts and abrasions. Tell us what happened to cause her injuries.”
Larry moved around the desk and placed his left foot next to Hugo’s right foot.
“Well?’
“She fell down the staircase, and I saw a ghost outside in the garden.”
“Did you push her down?”
“No.”
Larry bent down, his face inches from Hugo’s face.
“You pushed her, and she landed at the bottom of the stairs. Correct?”
“I touched her, and she fell.”
“What happened next?” Hieu asked.
“I walked down the stairs and saw she was dead...from the fall.”
“Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?” Larry asked, now with the bearing of a bulldog and hell-bent to catch a liar.
“I...I planned to but went back up the stairs to the bedroom. I got scared and tried to think of what to do. When I walked back out, she wasn’t there. Then, I went back to the bedroom and saw a ghost out the window…”
“Hogwash.”
“I did, I tell you, I did. Johnny didn’t see a body either.”
“Why did you bring Sara there in the first place?”
“For a little fun.”
“She’s undergoing a rape test.”
Larry stood erect and moved a few feet away.
“I didn’t rape her.” Hugo looked down at the floor and placed his hands on the desk. “I’m not able to.”
“Not able to do what?”
“I’m impotent,” he said quietly.
Is he telling the truth? Larry asked himself.
“Have you brought other women to the mansion?”
“Yes, a few.”
There it is.
“I checked the record. No women have ever filed rape charges against you.”
“Can I go?”
“No.”
Hieu said, “We are filing kidnapping charges against you.”
“And charges for the attempted murder of Father Johnny Baba,” Larry added.
“I didn’t mean to do anything. I was scared.”
“Tell your lawyer about that.”
“Do I need one?”
“Yep.”
“I’m willing to cooperate.”
“Good.”
“I can tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Start talking,” Larry said.
“I’ve only known Sara for a day, but I know her type. She’s a young, inexperienced woman, and I can tell she has almost no confidence. She thinks she’s a plain girl.”
Hieu asked, “How do you know that?”
“I have some experience with that, too, and can see it in others.”
“You’re a handsome guy....not a psychiatrist,” Larry said.
“But my father is. He passed on a lot about mental handicaps. He told me I have one.”
“Your impotency?”
“Yeah.”
“I see. So, Sara shares a similar handicap. Only, hers is mental and yours is physical.”
“Yeah. That’s about it.”
“Ridiculous! Hieu, step outside. Miller, stay put. We’ll be right back.”
Larry lowered his voice in the hallway. “Hieu, the results of rape trials where a man is impotent are mixed. A number of rapists experience some form of impotency during a rape. A jury might reject his defense of impotency, or maybe not. Go find out if the rape test is finished and report back to me.”
Larry sat down opposite Hugo. “So, you called Father Johnny when you thought you saw a ghost.”
“Yes. I know him pretty well. He suffers from a mental handicap, too. He…”
“Stop it...right there.”
“Don’t you want to know everything?” Hugo asked.
“Father Johnny is your friend and has tried to help with your addictions. That’s all I need to know for now.”
“His handicap is depression. He confided that to me. I say, he’s trying to maintain a façade.”
“And what is that?”
“The perfect priest.”
“More pop-psychology.”
“No. I’m being honest. I have powers of observation. We all wear faces. Johnny’s is the happy face.”
“Were you high last night?”
Hugo nodded.
“What did you take?”
“LSD.”
At that moment, Hieu returned to the interrogation room and asked Larry to step outside.
“Larry, Sara was not raped.”
Larry’s shoulders dropped.
Do we all wear faces?
“All right. Take Miller back to the holding cell. We’ll drive out to General. I’ll call Father Johnny and get him over there for his interview. After you get rid of Miller, I’ll fill you in.”
Larry walked to Captain Dempsey’s office.
“What is it, Leahy?”
“Just want to fill you in on the Miller case. No rape. Attempted kidnapping of a female, age 23. Attempted murder of a priest, age 39.”
“Thanks.” Dempsey barely raised his head and continued reading through a file.
Father Johnny got to General before Larry and Hieu. They told him to remain in the emergency room waiting area. He would be interviewed after Sara. Larry was directed to Sara who was in an examination room. She had been given a smock to cover her torn clothes, and the nurse practitioner and Hieu listened as Larry started.
The time was half past two in the afternoon.
“Miss Darío, did Miller push you down the stairs?”
“I don’t know. I was so scared.”
Oh, Christ.
“Was he touching you when you fell?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Try to remember.”
“I can’t.”
“When you landed at the bottom of the stairs, what happened next?”
“I was unconscious. I sort of woke up. Tiny was licking my face. I got myself up and looked for a way out. The front door was locked, so I went to the back of the house and found the door was unlocked and went outside. I tried to find a way out of the garden, but the gate was locked. So, I just stayed outside for a while. I heard voices, and when they left, I went back inside the house. I stayed there until you found me.”
“Miller has been arrested. You have nothing more to fear.”
“Thank you so much, Inspector Leahy. When can I go home?”
“Do you have anyone that can come pick you up?”
“My roommates. They’re probably frantic, not knowing where I am.”
“I want you to stay here for a little while longer. The nurse practitioner will ask a psychiatrist to interview you, and after that, I want you here for a final interview. In the meantime, call your roommates and tell them you are safe and where you are. I will take you home after we are finished."
“Thank you.”
Larry asked the nurse practitioner if he could use her office for another interview and was directed to an office two doors down. Hieu brought Father Johnny in. He walked with a certain élan, quite a contrast from what Larry imagined he looked like in the darkest hours of the night.
The face presented to the public?
“Father, I have a few questions.”
“We conducted an interview with Hugo Miller and Sara Darío,” Hieu said.
Larry looked at Father Johnny’s face. “Miller has been arrested on two charges: attempted kidnapping and attempted murder. What I want to know is what you thought of the whole ordeal, and more specifically, what made you think there was a need for an exorcism.”
“My training in Rome led me to believe there was the possibility of a ghost in the house.”
“Have you done an exorcism before?”
“No. This would have been my first.”
“Where did you attend college?”
“I was educated in Nigeria at Loyola Jesuit College, which is the equivalent of a high school, and the Catholic University of America.”
“I’m sure your credentials are impeccable. How did you feel after the event?”
“I...I had failed.”
“Indeed. Miller pulled a knife, and you could have been severely maimed or killed, and you put the others at risk. Why?”
Father Johnny looked down at the floor and placed his hands on the table.
Exactly how Miller reacted when confronted.
“I’ve known Hugo for two years now. He needed help. I thought I could help him.”
“It sounds to me like you wanted to prove something to yourself. You wanted to prove that you could be the hero. Isn’t that right?”
“I suppose so.”
“The real question is, why?”
“I called my psychiatrist. I’m on Zoloft for depression. He told me exactly what you said and added that I have low self-esteem.”
“Is he a Catholic physician?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m not, but from years of investigating murder, I’ve learned a few things. What your doctor should have said is, the devil is at work trying to undermine you. The exorcism was an attempt to prove to yourself that you are strong. That was a mistake.”
“What are you saying? Did Hugo tell you something?’
“He did. I wanted to confirm the young man’s impression of you. Hieu, see if Sara’s appointment is over.”
While Larry and Father Johnny waited for Sara, Larry said, “Miller is young and was acting under the influence of LSD and the drink. It happens all the time. The result was hallucinations. But what is important is that you understand the work of the devil.”
Father Johnny said, “I knew Hugo suffered from addictions and a lack of direction. I had no idea that his background mirrored my own, in a different way, but still one that allowed the devil to take advantage of our weaknesses.”
Sara walked in with Hieu.
“Let’s go outside, Sara, and we’ll have our exit interview there.” Larry had some personal observations to make and didn’t want anyone else to hear but Sara. They wound their way through the crowded waiting room, babies crying, people milling about in the confusion, and others slumped over awaiting their turn. Larry motioned her to sit down on a bench outside, some 300 paces away.
“You have just gone through a terrible ordeal. It should teach you a lesson, apart from the obvious one, that you should be less trusting of men you don’t really know. You are quite a beautiful young lady. You don’t know it. The devil, whether he was present or not at the mansion, is trying to undermine your confidence and lead you into self-doubt.” Then he said, "Don't go there," and looked into her eyes, which were wide open.
She answered, “During the night the full moon made it possible for me to get away from Mr. Miller. It guided me through the garden and helped me avoid him when he came out of the house. The Moon had a stranglehold on me. It kept me alive.”
Larry answered back, “Nature is but a reflection of Our Lord. He guided you out of danger, not the Moon. Remember that for the rest of your life.”
“Thank you, inspector. You are as wise as my father.”
Back in the interview room, Hieu said with a warm smile, “Sara, you are lucky to have survived.”
“It is Our Lord who gives us the strength to overcome our weaknesses.”
“Yes, Father Johnny,” Larry said. “The devil misleads people. When I charged Miller with kidnapping and attempted murder, he said, ‘Murder no, but kidnapping yes!’”
“Mr. Miller, the interview will be recorded.”
Larry flipped the switch of the recorder, which was inside a clear acrylic box and secured in a wall inset. The table and two chairs, one on either side, were locked to the floor.
Hieu stood against the wall where the two-way mirror was located.
Larry said, “State your full name and where you were born.”
“Hugo Miller, New Orleans.”
“What’s your occupation?”
“Musician.”
“Your address?”
“Uh…”
“Right. Father Johnny told me you’ve been living in the mansion for about one year. Do you know the owners?”
“No.”
“Have you ever seen them?”
“No.”
“You’re guilty of trespass. Now, about last night...”
“I didn’t do anything.”
“Let me do the questioning.”
Hieu interrupted. “Mr. Miller. Sara Darío is safe. Father Johnny told us there was no ghost.”
“But there was...I saw it.”
Larry stood up. “The young woman was locked inside the mansion until this morning when we got her out. She’s at San Francisco General and will be interviewed there after we’re done with you. She was banged up with cuts and abrasions. Tell us what happened to cause her injuries.”
Larry moved around the desk and placed his left foot next to Hugo’s right foot.
“Well?’
“She fell down the staircase, and I saw a ghost outside in the garden.”
“Did you push her down?”
“No.”
Larry bent down, his face inches from Hugo’s face.
“You pushed her, and she landed at the bottom of the stairs. Correct?”
“I touched her, and she fell.”
“What happened next?” Hieu asked.
“I walked down the stairs and saw she was dead...from the fall.”
“Why didn’t you call 9-1-1?” Larry asked, now with the bearing of a bulldog and hell-bent to catch a liar.
“I...I planned to but went back up the stairs to the bedroom. I got scared and tried to think of what to do. When I walked back out, she wasn’t there. Then, I went back to the bedroom and saw a ghost out the window…”
“Hogwash.”
“I did, I tell you, I did. Johnny didn’t see a body either.”
“Why did you bring Sara there in the first place?”
“For a little fun.”
“She’s undergoing a rape test.”
Larry stood erect and moved a few feet away.
“I didn’t rape her.” Hugo looked down at the floor and placed his hands on the desk. “I’m not able to.”
“Not able to do what?”
“I’m impotent,” he said quietly.
Is he telling the truth? Larry asked himself.
“Have you brought other women to the mansion?”
“Yes, a few.”
There it is.
“I checked the record. No women have ever filed rape charges against you.”
“Can I go?”
“No.”
Hieu said, “We are filing kidnapping charges against you.”
“And charges for the attempted murder of Father Johnny Baba,” Larry added.
“I didn’t mean to do anything. I was scared.”
“Tell your lawyer about that.”
“Do I need one?”
“Yep.”
“I’m willing to cooperate.”
“Good.”
“I can tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Start talking,” Larry said.
“I’ve only known Sara for a day, but I know her type. She’s a young, inexperienced woman, and I can tell she has almost no confidence. She thinks she’s a plain girl.”
Hieu asked, “How do you know that?”
“I have some experience with that, too, and can see it in others.”
“You’re a handsome guy....not a psychiatrist,” Larry said.
“But my father is. He passed on a lot about mental handicaps. He told me I have one.”
“Your impotency?”
“Yeah.”
“I see. So, Sara shares a similar handicap. Only, hers is mental and yours is physical.”
“Yeah. That’s about it.”
“Ridiculous! Hieu, step outside. Miller, stay put. We’ll be right back.”
Larry lowered his voice in the hallway. “Hieu, the results of rape trials where a man is impotent are mixed. A number of rapists experience some form of impotency during a rape. A jury might reject his defense of impotency, or maybe not. Go find out if the rape test is finished and report back to me.”
Larry sat down opposite Hugo. “So, you called Father Johnny when you thought you saw a ghost.”
“Yes. I know him pretty well. He suffers from a mental handicap, too. He…”
“Stop it...right there.”
“Don’t you want to know everything?” Hugo asked.
“Father Johnny is your friend and has tried to help with your addictions. That’s all I need to know for now.”
“His handicap is depression. He confided that to me. I say, he’s trying to maintain a façade.”
“And what is that?”
“The perfect priest.”
“More pop-psychology.”
“No. I’m being honest. I have powers of observation. We all wear faces. Johnny’s is the happy face.”
“Were you high last night?”
Hugo nodded.
“What did you take?”
“LSD.”
At that moment, Hieu returned to the interrogation room and asked Larry to step outside.
“Larry, Sara was not raped.”
Larry’s shoulders dropped.
Do we all wear faces?
“All right. Take Miller back to the holding cell. We’ll drive out to General. I’ll call Father Johnny and get him over there for his interview. After you get rid of Miller, I’ll fill you in.”
Larry walked to Captain Dempsey’s office.
“What is it, Leahy?”
“Just want to fill you in on the Miller case. No rape. Attempted kidnapping of a female, age 23. Attempted murder of a priest, age 39.”
“Thanks.” Dempsey barely raised his head and continued reading through a file.
Father Johnny got to General before Larry and Hieu. They told him to remain in the emergency room waiting area. He would be interviewed after Sara. Larry was directed to Sara who was in an examination room. She had been given a smock to cover her torn clothes, and the nurse practitioner and Hieu listened as Larry started.
The time was half past two in the afternoon.
“Miss Darío, did Miller push you down the stairs?”
“I don’t know. I was so scared.”
Oh, Christ.
“Was he touching you when you fell?”
“Yes.”
“How so?”
“I can’t remember.”
“Try to remember.”
“I can’t.”
“When you landed at the bottom of the stairs, what happened next?”
“I was unconscious. I sort of woke up. Tiny was licking my face. I got myself up and looked for a way out. The front door was locked, so I went to the back of the house and found the door was unlocked and went outside. I tried to find a way out of the garden, but the gate was locked. So, I just stayed outside for a while. I heard voices, and when they left, I went back inside the house. I stayed there until you found me.”
“Miller has been arrested. You have nothing more to fear.”
“Thank you so much, Inspector Leahy. When can I go home?”
“Do you have anyone that can come pick you up?”
“My roommates. They’re probably frantic, not knowing where I am.”
“I want you to stay here for a little while longer. The nurse practitioner will ask a psychiatrist to interview you, and after that, I want you here for a final interview. In the meantime, call your roommates and tell them you are safe and where you are. I will take you home after we are finished."
“Thank you.”
Larry asked the nurse practitioner if he could use her office for another interview and was directed to an office two doors down. Hieu brought Father Johnny in. He walked with a certain élan, quite a contrast from what Larry imagined he looked like in the darkest hours of the night.
The face presented to the public?
“Father, I have a few questions.”
“We conducted an interview with Hugo Miller and Sara Darío,” Hieu said.
Larry looked at Father Johnny’s face. “Miller has been arrested on two charges: attempted kidnapping and attempted murder. What I want to know is what you thought of the whole ordeal, and more specifically, what made you think there was a need for an exorcism.”
“My training in Rome led me to believe there was the possibility of a ghost in the house.”
“Have you done an exorcism before?”
“No. This would have been my first.”
“Where did you attend college?”
“I was educated in Nigeria at Loyola Jesuit College, which is the equivalent of a high school, and the Catholic University of America.”
“I’m sure your credentials are impeccable. How did you feel after the event?”
“I...I had failed.”
“Indeed. Miller pulled a knife, and you could have been severely maimed or killed, and you put the others at risk. Why?”
Father Johnny looked down at the floor and placed his hands on the table.
Exactly how Miller reacted when confronted.
“I’ve known Hugo for two years now. He needed help. I thought I could help him.”
“It sounds to me like you wanted to prove something to yourself. You wanted to prove that you could be the hero. Isn’t that right?”
“I suppose so.”
“The real question is, why?”
“I called my psychiatrist. I’m on Zoloft for depression. He told me exactly what you said and added that I have low self-esteem.”
“Is he a Catholic physician?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m not, but from years of investigating murder, I’ve learned a few things. What your doctor should have said is, the devil is at work trying to undermine you. The exorcism was an attempt to prove to yourself that you are strong. That was a mistake.”
“What are you saying? Did Hugo tell you something?’
“He did. I wanted to confirm the young man’s impression of you. Hieu, see if Sara’s appointment is over.”
While Larry and Father Johnny waited for Sara, Larry said, “Miller is young and was acting under the influence of LSD and the drink. It happens all the time. The result was hallucinations. But what is important is that you understand the work of the devil.”
Father Johnny said, “I knew Hugo suffered from addictions and a lack of direction. I had no idea that his background mirrored my own, in a different way, but still one that allowed the devil to take advantage of our weaknesses.”
Sara walked in with Hieu.
“Let’s go outside, Sara, and we’ll have our exit interview there.” Larry had some personal observations to make and didn’t want anyone else to hear but Sara. They wound their way through the crowded waiting room, babies crying, people milling about in the confusion, and others slumped over awaiting their turn. Larry motioned her to sit down on a bench outside, some 300 paces away.
“You have just gone through a terrible ordeal. It should teach you a lesson, apart from the obvious one, that you should be less trusting of men you don’t really know. You are quite a beautiful young lady. You don’t know it. The devil, whether he was present or not at the mansion, is trying to undermine your confidence and lead you into self-doubt.” Then he said, "Don't go there," and looked into her eyes, which were wide open.
She answered, “During the night the full moon made it possible for me to get away from Mr. Miller. It guided me through the garden and helped me avoid him when he came out of the house. The Moon had a stranglehold on me. It kept me alive.”
Larry answered back, “Nature is but a reflection of Our Lord. He guided you out of danger, not the Moon. Remember that for the rest of your life.”
“Thank you, inspector. You are as wise as my father.”
Back in the interview room, Hieu said with a warm smile, “Sara, you are lucky to have survived.”
“It is Our Lord who gives us the strength to overcome our weaknesses.”
“Yes, Father Johnny,” Larry said. “The devil misleads people. When I charged Miller with kidnapping and attempted murder, he said, ‘Murder no, but kidnapping yes!’”
***
Now, it is open to anyone who might read this tale to firmly believe in ghosts. If a reasonable person can accept adipocere, rumbling and shaking, and a haboob inside or outside a mansion lacking any human care, then why not a ghost? But what about coincidence? What about exorcism? What about criminal intent? What about Hugo Miller? He's an otherwise intelligent man others might consider compassionate. He let his passions overtake his common sense, but is that criminal? There was no need for an exorcism. That all these incidents should have happened on one night belie the nature of coincidence. Nevertheless, these strange happenings, whether real or imaginary, point to something else: crime rises under a full moon! So, give thanks that saner men, like Inspector Leahy, have a steady hand.
