The Freak Pt. 03 of 05

Breakfast out in this area meant going to a nearby deli for bacon and eggs on a roll. We also ordered sandwiches for our lunch. We were back to the bungalow in plenty of time for my phone calls first to Lt. Flanagan and second to Mr. Silverman. Lt. Flanagan told us that he had secured a warrant for both phone taps and for recording my conversations with the school principal and my least favorite monsignor. I made arrangements to meet with him at 8:00 Monday morning. I thought it would be the perfect opportunity—school would be closed, but the principal and staff were scheduled to work. I had no idea how he had learned that, but I agreed. I knew that I would have no trouble meeting with Msgr. Moran. All I had to do was tell him that I wanted to talk about my pledge for the Dunwoodie Chapel renovation. I did want to speak with him about it, but the conversation wasn't one he would enjoy. I was going to renege after seeing how Barbara had been so terribly mistreated.

Mr. Silverman told me that he had met with a judge early yesterday morning and had been given a writ requiring the Tuckahoe School District to enroll Barbara French, nee Millard, a transfer student from St. Claudia's in Yonkers. Also, a second writ required St. Claudia's to provide me with Barbara's records. That writ would give me a legitimate reason to visit the school. Finally, he told me that he had met with a local real estate agent yesterday afternoon in regard to a short-term rental. He said that my reputation in the community would probably help in that regard because everyone knew of my character. I rung off, telling him we'd speak again Monday after my undercover work was done.

The whole purpose of using the bungalow was to give us some time to be alone together and, other than a few minutes spent with two of my friends on the beach, that was exactly what we had. If anything, our love for each other grew every time we made love that weekend and we made love often—a minimum of three times a day, taking time off only to rest, shower, eat, and walk on the beach. I had always loved the peace I had found on the beach and Barbara obviously agreed. We resolved to buy a lot in the area where we could spend our summers and odd weekends when not taking classes in Massachusetts.

Sunday was Easter and we agreed to attend some kind of church services. After reviewing the options we decided on the Lutheran church in nearby Rocky Point, mostly because there was a Lutheran church just two blocks from St. Catharine's in Pelham. We closed up the bungalow after the enjoyable service, ate lunch at a restaurant on the way home and arrived at my parents' home around three that afternoon.

Of course, they wanted to know how Barbara was feeling. To that she only had a huge smile which made my mother laugh and my father red-faced. "My back still hurts, but someone is spoiling me rotten and he's always putting that stuff on me and bandaging my boo-boo's." That was directed at Carole who laughed hysterically. She ran to Barbara and would have hugged her under other circumstances. Instead, Barbara hugged her, kissing her cheek. Then she whispered, just loud enough for all of us to hear, "I'm so glad you're my sister now. I never had a sister before. Can you help teach me how to be a sister?" Carole beamed as she jumped forward to kiss Barbara's cheek and wrap her harms around her neck, carefully avoiding her back.

"Well, the first thing you have to do is run up to J.J. when he comes in so he can hug and kiss you."

We all laughed, but Barbara said in all seriousness, "I think I have that part down cold."

* * * * *

Barbara insisted on coming with me to meet with Lt. Flanagan. He showed me the warrant and explained what I could and couldn't ask about then he told me to ignore that. "You're an amateur so if you make a mistake nobody will chew your head off." His technicians fitted the "wire" under my shirt, taping the transmitter to the small of my back. I had the writ requiring the school to give me Barbara's records and I had the document from the town clerk that certified that we were married. I was loaded for bear when we left police headquarters at 8:45. I followed the police department van almost all the way to St. Claudia's. We double checked the transmitter and I gathered all of the papers I would need, including a set of photos of Barbara's back. Unlike those that would be used as evidence, these were dated, but not labeled "Yonkers P.D." I walked the final two blocks to the school once Barbara had kissed me and wished me luck.

Once in the main office I approached the counter, asking to speak with the principal. "May I ask the nature of your business," asked the secretary, a woman named Virginia Gregory according to the name plate on her desk.

"I'm here to talk about Barbara Millard. Well, she used to be Millard, but now she's French. We were married last Thursday even though we had planned our wedding to be after the end of the school year. That was because of what happened here last Monday." I saw the shocked acknowledgement in the secretary's face as she walked into the principal's office. I could hear some hushed conversation before a woman who was obviously Sister Mary Theresa walked out. She was dressed in what could be best described as contemporary attire for a nun rather than the traditional habit.

"I don't believe that I should discuss anything about Barbara with you. You are not her guardian and we have privacy issues to deal with."

"Then you'll be happy to see that I have come prepared. Here is my passport to identify me." She took it, handling it like it was an angry rattlesnake before returning it to me. "Next is a notarized letter from the Eastchester Town Clerk certifying that Barbara and I were married last Thursday. I also have an order from the New York State Court of Appeals requiring you to give me Barbara's official records. She is withdrawing effective immediately." Sister took the papers, scanned them quickly then practically threw them onto the secretary's desk.

"While I'm here I demand the return of her engagement ring. Sister Mary Patrick wrenched it off her finger."

"You have no proof of that."

"I don't think I'd have too much difficulty with that. She did it in front of the entire class."

"Why are you concerned about that cheap trinket? It wasn't even gold and I doubt that it was even a diamond."

"You are right—it isn't gold. It's platinum just like her wedding band... and just like mine. I even have the receipt right here."

"May I see it?" I pulled a yellow form from my pocket and passed it over the counter.

She laughed as she tore it into tiny pieces then dropped them into my hand. "You're not as smart as you think, Mr. French. Where's your proof now?"

I carefully placed the tiny pieces into an envelope, sealing it with saliva from my tongue. "Apparently, I'm not quite as stupid as you think. That was a receipt for a tire I bought for my Jeep. Besides... how would you know it wasn't gold if Sister Mary Patrick didn't take it? While I'm on the subject of Sister Mary Patrick I'd like you to take a look at these photos that were taken at the Cross County ER Monday afternoon. How do you justify beating a student like this? I attend a public school. They don't get to select their students the way you do, but nobody has ever been struck by a teacher let alone whipped the way Barbara was."

"You think you're so smart, don't you? You know nothing about running a school. We have more than four hundred students here. Parents send their daughters here because they want them to have discipline in their lives. So what if five or six girls take a beating every year? Fear of that keeps the others in line."

"You must be kidding. You're telling me that this is a long-standing practice... something you've condoned for years?"

"Not condoned, Mr. French—I don't condone whipping the students. I encourage it. I did the whipping before Sister Mary Patrick began teaching here. Now I'm principal and she does it. And she does a very good job of it, too."

I shook my head in disbelief, but I wondered if I could get just a bit more information from this blabbing bitch. "I'm going to complain to the Archdiocese. I'll find out who's in charge. You can count on that and I'll file a formal complaint."

"Let me save you the trouble. The priest in charge is Monsignor Edwin Moran, but he already knows and gives the practice his blessing. If you complain too strenuously you'll run the risk of excommunication. Then you'll burn in hell for eternity." I almost laughed. I would have but for fear that I really might burn in hell for eternity.

"Just give me Barbara's records and let me get out of here before I throw up. You have no business running a school and less being a servant of Christ."

"Virginia, get the papers then show Mr. French to the door. Lock it once he's gone." Sister Mary Theresa turned then and walked back into her office, slamming the door as she did. Mrs. Gregory had already retrieved the file and handed it to me as she walked around the counter. Once out in the hallway she looked around then placed a small piece of note paper in my hand. She opened the door and closed it without uttering a sound. Only when I was away from the building did I unfold the paper and read it—"I have info. Call tonight." It was followed by her phone number. Five minutes later I rejoined Barbara and Lt. Flanagan.

"Damn, Jack—you sure you're not an undercover officer? I couldn't have done better myself. Getting a subject angry is an old police trick. It is absolutely amazing what people will say when they're pissed off."

"Let's hope that luck holds when I meet with the honorable monsignor." Barbara joined me in the Olds as we drove to Dunwoodie where Monsignor Moran maintained his office.

Lt. Flanagan stopped us a few blocks away to tell us that a lengthy phone call had been placed from the school to the Archdiocese headquarters. "I think you'd find the conversation particularly revealing. They discussed the entire conspiracy and we were right. They've been beating at least six girls a year for more than twenty years. In fact the practice dates back to the first year the school opened."

Moran was forewarned, but I was forearmed. I told his secretary—a priest—that I wanted to discuss my pledge and was shown immediately into the big man's office, even though he was only five feet five inches tall. I had thought last year that it was awfully ostentatious for someone who had supposedly taken "an oath of poverty"—his words, not mine. He stood to greet me and got right to the point. "I understand that you think you have a grievance against St. Claudia's School."

"You might say that. I was brought up to think that stealing was a sin. Isn't taking something that doesn't belong to you stealing?"

"You're an intelligent young man, French, but you're inexperienced in the way of the world. Teachers in all schools--even yours—sometimes confiscate items that are disruptive and interfere with the educational process."

I smiled. This fool was going to trap himself with only a minimum of effort on my part. "You and I both know that there was no reason to take the ring. Why didn't the teacher simply tell her to put it away? In her pocket or purse the ring would have no longer been a distraction. And once the nun had it, why not return it when the student promised not to wear it again? Why was it necessary to whip her?"

"I'm sure that you understand the need to maintain discipline in schools. Sometimes it is necessary to make an example of a student. In my experience such a whipping leaves one uncomfortable for a few days, but leaves no permanent damage. It's really nothing more than a mild spanking."

I opened the envelope with the photos of Barbara's back. "You honestly think that this is a mild spanking? Either you're a liar or you're delusional. How would you like to be on the receiving end of this? I'm sure I could arrange it—a special present just for you."

"You're treading on dangerous ground, Mr. French. People have been excommunicated for less."

I laughed. I actually laughed in his face. "I just knew that you'd threaten me sometime during this discussion, but it won't work. Those threats only work with someone who actually cares and I don't. Parents send their daughters to your schools and you beat them into submission because you don't really know anything about children or how to deal with them. This has been going on for ages even though the practice should have ended in the middle ages. That teacher is a criminal and the principal has done nothing and you've done nothing. That makes you criminals, too. The teacher is a horrible excuse for a human being, but the two of you are worse--the most detestable examples of humanity I've ever seen. If anyone is going to burn in hell, it's you."

I wanted to get the monsignor angry and now he was furious. He swore at me and cursed me and made every justification imaginable for his actions and those of the teacher and principal, ending by threatening me again. "It won't work because we quit. We don't want any part of a religion that thinks it is acceptable to treat its believers in such a horrible inhuman manner. One other thing before I walk out the door—hell will freeze over before I give you a stinking penny."

"You gave your word—your pledge."

"Yes, I did, but that was before I found out what kind of lying manipulative and sadistic bastard you are. It's too bad, actually, because I can use the tax deduction. But, maybe my next church can use the money. Barbara and I spent part of Easter in a Lutheran church. We enjoyed the service and we were welcomed like we were family. Best of all, there's one just up the road from St. Catharine's. I imagine they could use two hundred thousand dollars."

"Your pledge was for one hundred thousand."

"Yes, it was, but that was then. I suddenly find that I'm in a really generous mood... just not for you. I wish you luck, Monsignor. I think you're going to need it."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"You figure it out. You're the one with all the answers here." I collected the photos, turned and walked away laughing crazily as I strode through the door. The priest/secretary put a restraining hand on my arm, but a steely look on my face caused him to step back quickly. "Smart move," I whispered just loud enough for him to hear. Had anyone read my eyes they would have seen someone willing to kill if necessary. Ten seconds later I was in the parking lot and a minute after that I was in the police van.

Lt. Flanagan spoke first. "Good job, Jack. He hung himself with his own words. No judge will ever accuse us of entrapment."

"I find that most arrogant people just can't help themselves. They insist on putting their feet in their mouths at every opportunity. Oh... I almost forgot. The secretary at St. Claudia's gave me this note when she escorted me from the building."

I pulled the sheet from my pocket and handed it to him. He perused it for a few seconds. "She probably gets off at four so if you can come to the station at five we'll be able to phone her. I'll have a warrant to record the call by then given what's happened this morning."

"I was hoping to drive to Massachusetts this afternoon, but I'm sure I can change my appointment from tomorrow morning to afternoon." We talked for a few more minutes until Barbara and I drove away toward home.

Once there I phoned the admissions office at Harvard, asking to speak with Mrs. Atkins. She was on the line after the third ring and I explained that I was working on a case with the Yonkers Police and, of course, that led to a host of questions. I began by explaining that I had asked Barbara to marry me. "You'll meet her tomorrow and you'll see why we got married in a hurry. And, no, it's not the reason you think it is. She was the victim of a brutal attack and I'm helping the Yonkers police get evidence against those responsible. The crime is all the more reprehensible because school and church officials are involved, but I'll explain everything tomorrow afternoon. I hope to drive a few hours tonight after the police are finished with us and we'll get into Cambridge mid-morning. I'd like to meet with you after lunch if that's possible."

"I'm free all day so come whenever you can. Okay?" I agreed and Barbara and I spent a few hours hanging out with my family—Barbara and Carole starting a huge War tournament—until it was time to pack a week's clothing and drive back to the Yonkers P.D. Of course, I had to listen to my mother remind me to drive carefully. I promised I would and we'd stop before dark.

I was on a phone that recorded the conversation by 5:00 when I dialed. The phone was answered almost immediately by a young girl. "Hi. Is your mommy home?"

"May I ask who is calling?"

"Wow, you have excellent manners. Would you tell your mom that John French is calling?"

"MOM! It's that kid you told me about."

"Hello?"

"Mrs. Gregory, it's John French. We spoke briefly at St. Claudia's this morning. Please call me Jack. Your note said you have some information for me."

"I don't know if you can help, but I've just about had enough. The way they treat some of the girls is just barbaric."

"I agree, but how do you know about these beatings? And I assure you that I can help you."

"I pray you're right. Every time Sister Mary Patrick beats a girl she files a written report with Sister Mary Theresa. They're in a special file in her office. How can you help me... and the girls?"

I looked at Lt. Flanagan and he nodded. "Mrs. Gregory, I'm working with the Yonkers Police. I was wearing a wire when I spoke to Sister this morning and I'm calling you now from their headquarters. If you'll hold on a second I'll let you speak with Lt. Flanagan. He's running the investigation."

I passed the phone to him and he spoke to Mrs. Gregory for almost fifteen minutes. "Mostly," he told her, "just go about your business normally. It will take a few weeks for us to get everything together. For one thing both Jack and Barbara will have to testify before the grand jury. I think that will take place next week. Once the grand jury indicts we'll act quickly against Sisters Mary Theresa and Mary Patrick as well as Monsignor Moran and possibly others, as well. Do these reports have the names of the students who have been beaten?"

"Yes, sir. Will I have to testify, too?"

"Probably not, but we'll want to know where that file is. Do you know how far back it goes?"

"I've worked at the school for more than ten years and I know it was in existence then. Sister Mary Theresa told me and she showed me, too."

"I'm sure we'll have a search warrant for the main office and for the classroom where the beating occurred, but it will be a help if we know where to look ahead of time. Can you come to the station house tomorrow afternoon?"

"Yes, if I have to, but Sister always wants to know if any of the staff is contacted by the police. She says it reflects poorly on the school, but I think she's just being bossy and controlling."

"I have your address here. You'll be stopped on the way to work tomorrow morning and given a summons for a non-working taillight. It will be fake, of course, but it will give you a reason to come here. The officer will simply unplug the bulb from the socket and we'll plug it back in when you're here. I want to thank you for your help. I just had a thought. Do any of the other staff members know about this?"

"Almost all of them, unfortunately; Sister Mary Patrick likes to brag." The conversation ended a minute later and Barbara and I began to leave.

"We'll be in Massachusetts for most of the week, Lieutenant. We have to find a place to live while I'm in college and we have to find a college for Barbara, too."

"Where are you going?"