Criminal

Once again, Amanda pulled out onto Ponce de Leon Avenue. “They could’ve met at a mixer or a social. All those frat boys are thick as thieves.” She’d interviewed her share for the sex crimes unit. They lied like carpets.
    “What’s going on there?” Evelyn pointed at the Union Mission. An APD squad car blocked the entrance.
    “I have no idea.” Amanda pulled onto the sidewalk and got out of the car. She recognized the patrolman walking out of the building, though she didn’t know his name. He obviously knew both Amanda and Evelyn. His pace quickened as he headed toward his car.
    “Excuse me—” Amanda tried, but it was too late. The man got into his cruiser. Rubber squealed against asphalt as he peeled off.
    “And the beat goes on,” Evelyn said. She didn’t seem too daunted as she headed toward the mission entrance. Instead of finding Trey Callahan, they saw a pudgy older man wearing a priest’s collar. He was sweeping broken glass off the floor. The front window had been broken. A brick was among the shards.
    “Yes?” he asked.
    Evelyn took the lead. “We’re with the Atlanta Police Department. We’re looking for Trey Callahan.”
    The man seemed confused. “So am I.”
    Amanda gathered they’d missed something. “Callahan isn’t here?”
    “Who do you think caused this mess?” He indicated the broken glass. “Trey was supposed to open the shelter last night. He didn’t show up, so one of the girls threw a brick through the window.” He leaned against the broom. “I’m sorry, I’ve never dealt with the police before. Are you gals secretaries? The officer who just left said he would need a typed statement.”
    Amanda suppressed a groan. The officer had been giving him the runaround. “We’re not secretaries. We’re plainclothes—”
    “Detectives,” Evelyn interrupted, sounding very sure of herself. “And we don’t type statements. What’s your name, sir?”
    “Father Bailey. I work at the soup kitchen down the street.”
    He didn’t match the descriptions they’d been given. The priest was only a few inches taller than Amanda. “Are you the only one who works at the kitchen?”
    “No, my associate does the cooking. Sometimes, I help with the cleaning, but my main duties are to provide spiritual support.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m actually late, so if you girls—”
    Evelyn interrupted, “If you work at the soup kitchen, why are you here?”
    “I was supposed to meet with Trey this morning. We coordinate once a month, talk about the girls, who might be in trouble, who to look out for.”
    “And you pulled in and saw the broken window?”
    “And a room full of girls sleeping away the morning when they should’ve been locked out of the building.” He indicated the back of the room. “Trey’s office has been rifled. Probably one of the girls.”
    “Did any of them see anything?”
    “I hate to be uncharitable, but none of them are particularly helpful unless it directly benefits themselves.”
    Amanda remembered, “What about Callahan’s girlfriend? She’s training to be a nurse at Georgia Baptist.”
    He studied her for a moment. “Yes, I called over there looking for her. Eileen Sapperson. They say she missed her shift last night, too.”
    “Did the hospital have a home number for her?”
    “She doesn’t have a home line.”
    “Do you mind if we—” Amanda indicated Callahan’s office. The priest shrugged. He resumed sweeping as they walked to the back of the room.
    The office had clearly been tossed, but Amanda wasn’t sure whether the perpetrator was a junkie looking for money or a man trying to quickly leave town. Callahan’s desk was cleared of all his personal items. No framed photo of his dog and girlfriend. No Slinky. No funk posters. No transistor radio. There were a few joints smoked down to the last centimeter in the ashtray. The drawers hung open. Most important, the stack of typewriter pages was gone.
    Evelyn noticed it, too. “Where’s his manuscript?”
    “I can’t imagine a whore using it for anything but toilet paper.”
    “Callahan got out of here fast. He must’ve taken the girlfriend.”
    “On the same night Mary Halston was left dead at Techwood.”
    “Coincidence?”
    Amanda didn’t know anymore.
    “Let’s go talk to the guy at the soup kitchen.”
    “We can at least ask the priest his name.” They walked back into the main room. The priest was gone.
    “Hello?” Evelyn called, though