The Cyber Exorcist

Part 3 Hadassah Sable

Hadassah checked the mask as she walked. It was tight against her cheeks, her collar pulled high, her hat low. She felt silly for being grateful for a bad air quality day. She was far from the only one with a filter mask on. Though it was the high of June the sky was low and grey like midwinter. It left her feeling even more tired though she didn't know why she felt so. It was her day off and she'd gotten a full night's rest the day before.
At her knock, a shrill voice said, "Come in!"
She stepped through to a very retro style office. The walls were replete with American memorabilia; old army posters, a copy of the constitution, and photographs of Lucas Ford at half a dozen national monuments, the stone of the Vietnam War Memorial barely distinguishable beneath the layers of graffiti. Her mouth twisted. The place smelled like old paper and fascism.
Ford stood up from behind what Hadassah though had been a wall and now saw was a stack of paperwork nearly as tall she was.
"Yes, can I—" he stopped short when he saw her. "Oh," he finished lamely.
Hadassah bit her lip. She hadn't even told him what she was here about and already she was dreading it.
"Um... Hi. Can I help you, Detective?" Ford asked, turning a little so his left side was slightly further away from her good arm.
"Ford, I need your help." The words felt so awful saying allowed she wished she could spit.
The lawyer collapsed in a chair so forcefully the poor furniture gave out a pitiful gasp beneath the older man's girth.
Unwilling to give him time to gather himself she shoved a piece of paper in front of his face.
"I know you prefer to have the thing printed."
Ford blinked at the document and then took it as though Hadassah had handed him a knife to stab himself with.
While the lawyer read over her report Hadassah took the time to turn away and look about the room. A collection of old coins had been ensconced on a romanesque mantel along the wall. Most of them were the usual cheap trash of quarters but there were a few she'd never seen before, silver dollars perhaps?
Behind her, the lawyer cleared his throat. It took a few tries before he said.
"She pleads guilty."
"She's mentally unstable. But the D.A. Appointed defense is having her tried as an adult."
"Because she's emancipated. It says so here on your report."
"Well then her folks are even more messed up. It doesn't mean they deserve to lose their lives over it."
"What makes you think she's innocent? If you had evidence you'd include it."
Hadassah ran a finger over the curves of the mantelpiece. It looked like the stuff she'd seen in the old houses. Maybe Ford had salvaged it from an old wreck. Most of those Greco-Roman pieces had been burnt down when the country fractured. What survived was usually deep beneath the Mississippi.
"Dunno," she said. "Maybe she is taking me in but I have a hunch that says she's not."
"This isn't the Copello case. I'm going to need more than this to get her off."
Hadassah's hand flinched at the name and when Ford spoke again she knew he'd seen it.
"Copello had reasonable doubt Detective. I know you want to be angry with me for getting him off because it's easier than being angry with yourself, but you can't convict someone without evidence, and this girl— she's swimming in evidence."
"I'm still looking. I'll— " she swallowed hard because the next words cost her. "I'll give you whatever I find— whatever it is."
A long silence proceeded that.
"You could lose your job Detective."
Hadassah turned back to face him. "Are you threatening me?"
"Depends. Are you going to threaten me?"
Hadassah held back the urge to spit. "I shouldn't have punched you, even if you did deserve it."
Ford actually smirked at that. "I suppose," he said, "that's as good an apology as I'm going to get."
"So will you represent her?"
The older man leaned back and sighed deeply. "Much as I hate to disappoint you a second time— no. I won't."
Hadassah blinked. "What's the point of being a pain in the ass unless you use it sometimes?" she exclaimed.
Ford stood up and put Lucille Brown's report in a desk cabinet.
"You're not a religious person are you Detective?"
"Despite my grandmother's best efforts. I didn't think you were either."
Ford ran a thumb and forefinger over his goatee. "Regardless of the details, I do know that there is good in the world and evil. And both can be powerful."
Hadassah threw her hands up. "Don't tell me you are afraid of the whole demon thing! She's clearly mentally unstable!"
"Probably," Ford admitted with a tilt of his head. "But you should hear the way the River Runners talk about it."
"The smugglers? What does that have to do with Lucille?"
"Don't know, maybe nothing. But there's enough talk to make even a skeptic like myself nervous. And then this girl shows up claiming the devil made her do it— it's not something I jump into out of the goodness of my teenie tiny heart." He said the last three words while grinning at her.
Hadassah sat down in the chair across from Ford. "You're telling me to investigate the River Runners? It's what I do for breakfast after I've had my Sudoku puzzle. You could give me a wider net to cast," she said rolling her eyes.
Ford ran a finger over his mouth. "Let's say just one of those runners then— but not one you need to worry about anymore. He's gone straight even. Won't so much as deliver a letter for me across the water. Of course, it happens every now and then to old gangsters. They grow up, have a kid and their testosterone tapers out enough to get some sense in them. But what's stranger still is that he's not seeing a woman. He's seeing a Catholic priest."
Hadassah snorted. "Strange fetish but there have been worse."
"That's what I said, but there is a regret about him that's chilling even to a jaded man like myself. I've been trying to tell my smuggler to go on the straight and narrow for years but I think he's actually going to this time. Unfortunately, I think the real truth is that he's found someone to con him in turn."
"You're worried about some washed-up smuggler?" Hadassah couldn't keep the sarcasm from dripping from her lips. "What's he to you?"
Ford waved his hand, "never you mind that. What you do need to mind is the priest."
"Why? The priest into smuggling drugs too?"
Ford leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and— despite Hadassah's incredulity— he did look genuinely concerned.
"My smuggler, he comes home tired. He'll sleep all day after one of these 'sessions'. He says the priest isn't taking any payment but his clothes are all worn through. If you didn't know him you'd swear he has cancer. I honestly don't know how many more 'sessions' my smuggler can take."
Hadassah ran a hand over her face, feeling the stress build in her forehead.
"Let me get this straight— you want me to investigate a priest in return for taking Lucille's case?"
Ford sat up and folded his hands, his face utterly grave.
"My dear Detective, I want you to investigate an Exorcist."