Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

committed—“
    “He got what he deserved,” the man said in a smooth voice. “Make a deal with the devil and you pay the price. Right Father?”
    Father Cavanaugh could hear the sneer in the man’s voice. “Is that how you see yourself? As the devil?”
    A long silence followed, and Father Cavanaugh wondered if he’d overstepped. It was a delicate dance, his relationship with this man, and one he couldn’t afford to ruin.
    “You tell me,” came the hushed response.
    “The devil wouldn’t be here with me now,” the father said. “In God’s house.”
    Another protracted silence followed, and the flame on the candle danced. “I’m not here to find God.”
    “But to find your soul. Is there really such a difference? Every soul seeks redemption. In that, you’re no different than anyone else.”
    “Oh, but I am, Father. Or have you forgotten?”
    “No,” the priest said. He could never forget. “But you must be patient. God will show you the path, but you must have the strength to take it.”
    “You make it sound so simple.”
    “No, it’s never that. But you must have faith, my son. God will show a sign, you need only have the wisdom to recognize it.”
    “A sign,” he said, testing to see how the word felt across his lips. “I hope you’re right.”
    The father heard the whisk of the curtain being pulled back, and the man was gone. The small candle that lit the tiny room flickered in the residual breeze and was nearly snuffed out. Such a fragile thing, so easily extinguished. But even a small flame can light the darkness.
    He closed his eyes and prayed.

Chapter Nine
    “T wo Yack Yacks and a Panther,” Elizabeth said, as she leaned against the far end of the bar and waited for her order to be filled. Only three hours into her shift, and her feet were already killing her. She glanced at her reflection in the long mirror hanging behind the bar. Between photographs of Clara Bow and Mary Pickford, her own coal-rimmed eyes looked back. She barely recognized herself. Her hair was in a loose ponytail, lips painted in a bright, red cupid’s bow. Her eyes shone a brighter shade of blue as the thick, black Egyptian-style liner stood out against her pale, powdered skin. The effect was a popular style of the day—an odd mix of Lolita and wicked city woman.
    The green-spangled bandeau headband and its crimson feather made her feel like a reject from some bizarre Hiawatha Christmas pageant. But she could live with all that. It was the rest of her outfit that made her feel uncomfortable. Her uniform amounted to no more than a one-piece bathing-suit covered with green sequins and few strategically placed feathers. Every nuance of her figure was on display for all to see. That was the point really—to appeal to men’s vices, all of them. Charlie, bless him, had seen how nervous she was and reassured her. He had a strict “look but don’t touch” policy. If anyone got out of line, Lester was there to give them the bum’s rush.
    Lester, the bouncer, was easily over six foot four and nearly as wide. His square, bald head sat directly on his shoulders, making him look like a Rock ’em Sock ’em Robot. His muscles threatened to burst out from under the strained material of his tuxedo. The upscale outfit was an odd counterpoint to the rest of the club. Not that it was the low end of the spectrum, where décor was a page ripped from a magazine and the only clean glass was one you brought yourself. Charlie’s club was the top rung of society’s bottom ladder. It was just nice enough to lure the uptown crowd looking to go slumming, but not too expensive to scare away the working Joe who wanted to find a good way to burn his hard-earned money. Tendrils of cigarette smoke wound their way up into the thick haze covering the room like a cloud. Stools lined the long, wooden bar and small, two-top and four-top tables filled nearly every inch of the modest floor space. A small, upright piano was pushed against the far wall, but no one was playing it. The crowd didn’t seem to notice the lack of music. They were having a good time and didn’t mind showing it.
    The club was dark. Two weak, overhead lights cast a yellow glow that barely made it to the plank floor. Dark stained, wood paneling and deep red brick made the place feel even smaller than it was.
    Elizabeth was more than a little overwhelmed at first. The doors opened at eight o’clock, and people had been streaming in ever since. They barked out