Divine Intervention
By Leah Veres
Alfonzo reclined in his favorite armchair, a threadbare handcrafted lounger previously owned by his late uncle. In his right hand he held a mug of hot herbal tea, and with his left hand he stroked the cloth arm supports, finding comfort in the familiarity of its ridges and patches of missing fabric. He grimaced at the sudden ache within his muscles and shut his eyes against the pain. Upon opening them, he saw his reflection on the television screen. He looked exactly as he felt: a tired, sick, old man, right down to the graying hair and thin robe tied over his favorite pair of pajamas. He snorted despite his mild soreness and tested his tea with the tip of his index finger; still too hot.
He made a move for the clicker – something to keep his mind occupied – when someone rapped sharply against his front door. He set down his drink with a groan, squeezed his feet into a pair of slippers, pulled the robe tight against his body, and then shuffled to the front door. His visitor knocked again, louder this time, and he quickened his pace, cursing his stiff limbs as he moved.
He threw open the door and squinted against the bright, winter sunlight. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and peered at the man who stood in his doorway. “May I help you?” Alfonzo questioned. His vision cleared and he finally took in his guest’s appearance, an elderly man dressed head-to-foot in smart business attire. Pale blue eyes gazed back at him underneath a set of thick, gray eyebrows.
The man grinned, revealing rows of white teeth that matched the paleness of his skin. “Alfonzo? Alfonzo Mazzara?”
“Yes?” Alfonzo replied.
“I don’t suppose you recognize me,” the man said. “It’s been so long since we’ve spoken.” He removed his hat before continuing, “I’m Theodore Baum. We were roommates in college, remember?”
Alfonzo’s eyes lit up with a smile, recognizing him at once. “Of course, Theodore! I haven’t seen you in ages. It’s been what, nearly forty years? Come in, come in, and let’s get you out of the cold.” He stepped back and allowed Theodore entrance into his home. His guest thanked him and walked inside, pausing briefly to set his briefcase by the door and then kick snow from his shoes.
“Please, excuse my clothing,” Alfonzo said, indicating to his robe and pajamas. “I wasn’t expecting visitors, and I seem to be catching that nasty flu that’s going around….”
Theodore held up a hand to stop him. “No need to apologize, my friend. I should have called before dropping in like this. But I’ve been so busy and I didn’t think I’d have time to visit….”
“It’s quite alright,” Alfonzo replied with a slight laugh. “Would you like to hang up your coat before we sit down? That might help you warm up faster.”
Theodore shook his head. “No, no thank you. I can only stay a few minutes.”
“Very well,” Alfonzo said. He led Theodore into a small but, well-kept kitchen. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water?” Theodore politely refused and sat down at Alfonzo’s dining table. “So then, how did you find me?” Alfonzo questioned, claiming the chair across from Theodore.
“I saw your name listed outside your church,” Theodore explained casually. “I took a chance, stopped in, and saw your picture lined up with all the other priests in the rectory. I thought it might be nice to catch up, so I talked to your secretary and told her who I was, and she directed me here.”
Alfonzo nodded. “Of course, that makes sense. Marge usually calls when this type of thing happens, but I guess it slipped her mind….” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Oh well. What’s done is done. So, how have the years been treating you? I understand you became a lawyer?”
“Yes, that’s quite right. To make a long story short, I established my own law firm, worked my tail off, and can now boast one of the largest practices in Pennsylvania,” he said. “As you can guess, it’s keeps me quite busy.”
“That’s good to hear,” Alfonzo grinned. “Any family? Wife or kids?”
Theodore shook his head. “No, no. Never had the time. A small price to pay for success, I suppose.”
“I suppose,” Alfonzo echoed. “You’re already aware that I joined the priesthood, so I have no wife or children of my own either.”
They carried on in this manner for some time, discussing each other’s lives, making small talk, and trading questions in a steady, rhythmic succession. Their tones were light, casual, and cheerful: two friends reconnecting after years apart.
“Well, I was quite surprised to hear that you actually went through with it,” Theodore remarked eventually, referring to Alfonzo’s work in the priesthood. “But with everything that happened before you left, I guess it makes sense.”
“You mean when Shannon Frick went missing?” Alfonzo responded. He frowned and dropped his gaze to his lap. “Yes, that did have something to do with it. Though I was toying with the idea long before she disappeared.”
Theodore lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought it best to work it out on my own,” Alfonzo answered, fiddling with the belt on his robe. “I didn’t want to involve anyone else in my decision.”
“I see,” Theodore said. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the tabletop, his pale blue eyes locked onto Alfonzo’s. “You know, I still think back to that night Shannon went missing. Every night, right before I fall asleep, I picture her in my mind.”
Alfonzo looked away before answering. “So do I. She was a good friend. What happened to her was a damn shame.”
“Do you ever sit back and just think about it?” Theodore continued. “What we could have done differently?”
“Yes,” Alfonzo admitted, his voice hard, “every day.” At once he lost himself in the memory, the same scene playing for him as it did a thousand times before.
A party, with more people crammed into a student’s tiny apartment than Alfonzo thought possible. He was twenty years old, with thick black hair and the occasional pimple that still erupted along his jaw line. He held a beer in one hand and watched the party-goers along the sidelines, feigning casualness despite the nervousness that weighed heavily in his belly. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and took a swig of alcohol.
“I didn’t think there’d be this many people,” Theodore remarked. “But we should go mingle, man. Looks like everyone’s having a good time.” Alfonzo glanced at his roommate out of the corner of his eye. Tall, blonde, handsome—It was no surprise to him that every female who walked by gave Theodore a double take.
“Sure,” Alfonzo said, his voice more steady than he felt. “I don’t really care. It’s not like I know anyone else here.”
Theodore nudged Alfonzo’s shoulder and pointed across the room. “You know one person. Look, isn’t that Shannon?”
Alfonzo felt a flush creep into his cheeks. It was Shannon: red-haired, pretty, with a voluptuous figure and full, pouting lips. “Yeah, that’s her alright.”
She caught sight of Theodore pointing, noticed Alfonzo, and walked over. She stumbled twice and sloshed her drink down the front of her blouse before reaching them. She was obviously quite drunk. “Hey,” she exclaimed. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d make it.” She placed a sloppy kiss on Alfonzo’s cheek, smearing her ruby lipstick against his skin.
“Yeah,” Alfonzo said, reaching a hand out to steady her, “my roommate talked me into coming.”
She peered over at Theodore and he nodded. “Hey,” she greeted before turning her attention immediately back to Alfonzo. “Come, come outside with me. I wanna ask you abou’ something.” Without waiting for a reply she grabbed the front of his shirt and steered through the front door. Once outside she turned and peered up at him, swaying unsteadily on her feet.
“Well, we’re here,” he said. He gripped her shoulders to support her again. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Listen, I’m real drunk,” she confessed. “I’ve had a few too many, I think. I don’t wanna walk home by myself. I think you should come with me.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you home,” Alfonzo replied. He began guiding her gently down the sidewalk when she ripped herself away from him.
“No, you don’t understand,” she cried. “I want you to stay with me. See, I like you a lot, and I know you like me…” She started rubbing her hands suggestively up and down his arms. “Please, Alfonzo, I don’t want to spend the night alone. My boyfriend just broke up with me. I need someone to keep me company. Please?”
Alfonzo gently untangled himself from her grasp. “Look, Shannon, you’re drunk. It wouldn’t be right. Let me just take you home and we’ll talk in the morning.”
“No!” She shouted and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. “I won’t go unless you stay with me.” Several people looked over, eyebrows raised in mild curiosity.
“Shannon, I can’t do that,” he said urgently. “Come on, let’s just go home. I promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No!” she repeated. “What, are you gay or something? I knew it! Whatever, you stupid queer!”
Her words cut deep, and for a brief, shameful second Alfonzo wanted to slap her for saying something so cruel. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he persisted. “You’re drunk. Just let me take you home and…”
“I said, leave me alone!” she screamed.
“Shannon, that’s not it at all,” he said through gritted teeth. She was starting to try his patience. “If you’ll just let me explain,” he reached for her hand.
She angrily pushed him away and fell back several feet herself. “Don’t touch me, you freak!” At that one of the guests snickered at his embarrassment. “I can walk myself home! Who needs you? I can get a better-looking guy anyway.” At this she turned and began staggering down the sidewalk, tripping several times over her high heels.
Alfonzo moved to follow her when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned to find Theodore standing beside him. “Let her go, man,” he said, shaking his head. “She’ll be fine. And if you follow her she’ll just scream and cause a scene.”
“But-,” Alfonzo started.
“Forget it,” Theodore interjected. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Let’s just go back inside and enjoy the party.”
Alfonzo turned and obediently followed his roommate back into the house, but not before chancing one more look at Shannon’s retreating figure as she disappeared into the darkness. It was the last he ever saw of her.
Suddenly, Theodore’s voice cut through the memory like a knife. Alfonzo’s recollection of Shannon’s disappearance consumed his attention so thoroughly that Theodore’s words failed to register. He looked to his guest, eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I said, you left with Bill Tomlinson shortly afterwards,” Theodore repeated. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at Alfonzo in mock disappointment. “Ditched me after you and Shannon got into that fight.”
“I just wasn’t feeling it after that,” Alfonzo said. “Good thing Bill was there, too. Had someone to back me up when the police questioned me.” For a moment neither of them spoke, each lost in his individual thoughts.
Alfonzo stared out his kitchen window and into the grey, foreboding sky. It started snowing; a dusting of flakes danced briefly against the glass before melting into drops of water. He could feel hostility beneath Theodore’s steady gaze and he protectively pulled his robe tighter against his frail body. “I should never have listened to you,” Alfonzo said quietly. “I should’ve followed my gut and walked her home.”
“So you blame me for it, then?” Theodore questioned. He clasped his hands together, leaned forward in his chair, and glared at his former roommate.
“No, actually,” Alfonzo sputtered quickly, daunted by Theodore’s imposing posture. “I blame myself more than anyone else. Really.”
“Right,” Theodore said, watching Alfonzo carefully. “And you don’t remember anything else that night? Nothing at all?”
“Nope. Just went straight to bed when I got back to our room. The beer really hit me that night and I fell asleep pretty quickly.” Alfonzo began twiddling his thumbs like a nervous child.
“You’re sure?” Theodore asked. “Think hard.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Alfonzo furrowed his eyebrows and stared back across the table at his guest. “Why do you ask?”
Theodore studied his companion before answering, his expression completely unreadable. Slowly, his mouth stretched into a cold and unforgiving smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my friend.”
“Excuse me?” Alfonzo questioned. He straightened his spine against he back of his seat, as though distancing himself from Theodore’s accusations.
“You weren’t asleep when I came back that night,” Theodore said. “You were still awake. I could tell by your breathing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alfonzo insisted, his voice faltered unconvincingly. “I was asleep. I didn’t hear you at all.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Theodore snapped, slamming a fist against the table. Alfonzo flinched instinctively. “You were awake, and I know you heard me walk in! Now tell me, what did you see?”
Alfonzo leaned his head into his hands and steadied his breathing. It was as though his courage fled, tail tucked between its legs under his companion’s accusatory stare. “Very well. I can’t run from fate any longer,” his voice finally returned after a pause of painful silence. It shook like a dead leaf against a winter breeze. “I suppose I’ve been waiting for this moment nearly my entire life. Yes, I was awake that night Shannon went missing. I couldn’t sleep after everything that happened.”
“And?”
“What do you want me to say? I heard and saw everything: How intently you cleaned the dirt from your shoes, how desperate you seemed to throw your clothes into your laundry bag, even though you just washed them—you acted very much like a man with something to hide, determined to cover your tracks.” His words poured from his mouth like a flood breaking through a dam weakened by the passage of time. Not once did his eyes meet Theodore’s. Instead, he directed his anger at the table top, catching his own warped reflection in the scrubbed wooden surface.
Theodore’s shoulders sunk at Alfonzo’s revelation. “I knew it,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “If you saw all that, why didn’t you tell the police?”
Alfonzo finally met Theodore’s eyes. “Tell them what? That a potential valedictorian—our campus’s golden boy—murdered a girl and disposed of her body so well that no one ever found her remains? And what proof did I have? None. So I left, because I couldn’t stand to live with a murderer. And because I’m a coward,” he added.
“Well, don’t beat yourself up too much. It was my first time, after all,” Theodore admitted with a sigh. “I was bound to make a few mistakes like involving an innocent bystander.” He grinned at the stunned expression on Alfonzo’s face. “Oh, you mean you didn’t guess? Of course I didn’t stop with that drunken slut, you simple fool. I’ve been doing it for decades. But Shannon’s always been special to me; a man never forgets his first time.”
“Why?” Alfonzo erupted furiously. “ That poor girl did nothing to you. Why did you do it? Why did you kill her?”
“Because she was easy,” Theodore replied indifferently, without a trace of remorse. “Because she was drunk, and I couldn’t resist such an easy target.”
“My God…”
“It was almost too simple, really,” Theodore continued. “Once you left, I went out and found her myself. She could hardly walk, and when I wrapped my fingers around her throat, she barely put up a fight.”
“Stop,” Alfonzo begged. “I don’t want to hear anymore. Please.”
“It’s not a pretty sight when you actually strangle someone, you know.” Theodore carried on, clearly amused by Alfonzo’s reaction. “Her face turned red and her eyes bulged out of her sockets…”
“Shut up!” Alfonzo shouted. “Goddamn you, shut up!”
Theodore complied, though a low a chuckle escaped his lips and a grin stretched wide across his face. He watched his host slumped over the table, averting his eyes away from his guest.
“They never found her,” Alfonzo said after awhile. He spoke into hands. “What did you do with her body?”
“Oh that,” Theodore replied dismissively, as though he were speaking of a troublesome automobile and not a murdered girl. “I dumped her body into that filthy pond by the lumber mill, the one filled with trash. Tied her to a few cement blocks and she sunk right to the bottom, piece of cake.”
Alfonzo pictured the scene in his head: no one ever ventured too close to the pond, with its muddied water and sour stench. An image of Shannon’s corpse rotting amongst the debris churned his stomach. “You monster,” he hissed.
“I’m the monster?” Theodore snorted. “You were a witness. You had the chance to tell the police what you saw, but you never did. Who’s the real monster here, priest? The one who acted or the one who failed to act?”
Alfonzo shook his head and his hands clenched reflexively in rage and anguish. “How many girls?” he asked after a slight hesitation, steeling himself against Theodore’s response.
“What did you say?”
“I said, how many girls?” Alfonzo repeated. He peered at Theodore through his fingers. “How many girls did you kill?”
Theodore shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe ten, maybe twenty, maybe more. Does it really matter?”
Alfonzo sucked in his breath sharply. “Not to you, I suppose it doesn’t,” Alfonzo muttered. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“If you must know, it’s because men have certain… needs. And I can’t get it up unless a fair amount of violent foreplay is involved. You understand what I’m saying?” Theodore performed a lewd gesture for Alfonzo using his thumb and index fingers.
“You’re a sick bastard,” Alfonzo spat.
“That’s a lot of foul language coming from a holy man,” Theodore taunted. “Wouldn’t want a member of your congregation to hear that, now would you?” Alfonzo moved as though to stand just as Theodore whipped a pistol out from underneath his coat. “Don’t move, priest. Sit your ass back down.”
Alfonzo returned to his seat slowly, eyes darting from the weapon to Theodore’s eyes. “What do you intend to do with that?
“Well, I’m getting old,” Theodore spoke calmly. “I’m looking forward to a long and happy retirement. And I was going to let you go since after all these years you haven’t gone to the police or the media. But then I thought, why take the risk? I can’t have loose ends running around.”
“Are you going to kill me, then?”
“That’s right,” Theodore confirmed, his gun trained steadily on his host. “So, any last words, priest?”
“Just a question,” Alfonzo closed his eyes and braced himself for Theodore’s response. “Do you intend to kill anyone else after you’re done with me?
“What do you care? You’ll be dead anyway.”
“I just need to know,” Alfonzo pleaded. “Please. Give me this much, just a measure of peace before I die. That’s all I ask.”
“Very well,” Theodore replied. He heaved a giant sigh as though dealing with a petulant child. “No, I do not intend to kill anyone else. Happy?”
“And how do I know you’re not lying?” Alfonzo demanded.
“I’m a lawyer, remember?” Theodore laughed. “You have no way of knowing whether or not I’m lying. All you have is my word.”
Alfonzo stared hard at Theodore. Slowly his expression shifted from one of fear to one of steely triumph. “Yes, I think that will do. I hope you enjoy rotting in prison, murderer,” Alfonzo said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and spoke into his robe. “There you have it, men. A full confession on tape, just as I promised.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Theodore asked. He gazed around the room in mild confusion. “What the hell was that supposed to mean?”
“You never spoke to my secretary,” Alfonzo challenged. “You knew where I lived because you’ve been stalking me for days. You think I didn’t notice some crazy old man following me everywhere? I may be a fool, but I’m not blind. Once I recognized you, I called the police and told them everything. They gave me a wire,” he pulled down his shirt to reveal a small recorder taped to his chest, “and told me to get as much out of you as I could. They’ve been listening this entire time.”
“You’re bluffing,” Theodore said in disbelief. He cocked his weapon and aimed into Alfonzo’s torso. “I’m going to kill you where you sit, you filthy liar.”
“If you say so,” Alfonzo replied, as though it mattered little to him. “Go ahead, then, shoot me. That’s just one more murder to add to the list.”
“You son of a-“ Theodore began. He jumped to his feet and then backed out of the room, his weapon never leaving Alfonzo’s chest. “I’m leaving. I’m getting the hell out of here. Don’t try to stop me.”
“So leave,” Alfonzo called from the kitchen. “The cops will arrest you as soon as you do. And I hope all that money you earned comes in handy. You’re going to need an excellent lawyer.”
Theodore did not reply. Instead, a panicked sob and single gunshot echoed throughout Alfonzo’s home. Then, silence. Alfonzo waited in the kitchen, breath held, listening for any signs of movement. When none came, he stood up slowly, gingerly placing his own weapon, a 9mm GLOCK pistol that he had hidden beneath his robe, atop his table. Slowly, pulled the miniature audio recorder (the same one he used to tape his sermons) from his chest.
The priest spent his entire life preparing for this single confrontation. Waiting, praying, and dying a little each day, he relived the precise minute he failed to act. He begged God for a chance to redeem him, yet no answer came except a vindictive silence. The years stretched into decades, with each hour more torturous than the one that came before.
So he purchased a gun, intending only to use it against himself. He bid his time, tied up all loose ends, and waited for the perfect time to deliver his soul into God’s hands. Just when Alfonzo thought he could not delay any longer, when life seemed impossible to live, he caught sight of his demon, Theodore, watching him intently from the back pew of his church.
He experienced a moment of complete clarity, as though the voice of fate echoed through his soul and revealed the full extent of God’s plan. So the priest waited, and waited, and each day Theodore drew a little closer, until he stood outside Alfonzo’s home, demanding entrance.
It was divine intervention, the destined conflict between good and evil with no distinct victor.
After all that happened, the years he wasted wallowing in despair and self-pity, Alfonzo knew that he could not allow Theodore to live. It was why he kept his own weapon always within reach; he refused to allow his enemy the upper hand.
With Theodore’s death, he hoped for some semblance of harmony, a kernel of absolution. But he received none, and he felt nothing. He stood there for a long time, silently begging God for a sign – anything – either condemning or praising his actions. None came.
Alfonzo let the air out of his lungs slowly and padded softly into his living room, mentally preparing himself whatever scene greeted him. Minutes later, he staggered back into the kitchen and wiped one shaking hand across his eyebrow. “Forgive me,” he said, to no one in particular: to Shannon, Shannon’s family, every innocent affected by the actions of a single psychopath and the inaction of a coward….
Finally, he picked up phone and punched a number into the keypad. “Hello, Police? … I’d like to report a suicide.”
He made a move for the clicker – something to keep his mind occupied – when someone rapped sharply against his front door. He set down his drink with a groan, squeezed his feet into a pair of slippers, pulled the robe tight against his body, and then shuffled to the front door. His visitor knocked again, louder this time, and he quickened his pace, cursing his stiff limbs as he moved.
He threw open the door and squinted against the bright, winter sunlight. He lifted a hand to shield his eyes and peered at the man who stood in his doorway. “May I help you?” Alfonzo questioned. His vision cleared and he finally took in his guest’s appearance, an elderly man dressed head-to-foot in smart business attire. Pale blue eyes gazed back at him underneath a set of thick, gray eyebrows.
The man grinned, revealing rows of white teeth that matched the paleness of his skin. “Alfonzo? Alfonzo Mazzara?”
“Yes?” Alfonzo replied.
“I don’t suppose you recognize me,” the man said. “It’s been so long since we’ve spoken.” He removed his hat before continuing, “I’m Theodore Baum. We were roommates in college, remember?”
Alfonzo’s eyes lit up with a smile, recognizing him at once. “Of course, Theodore! I haven’t seen you in ages. It’s been what, nearly forty years? Come in, come in, and let’s get you out of the cold.” He stepped back and allowed Theodore entrance into his home. His guest thanked him and walked inside, pausing briefly to set his briefcase by the door and then kick snow from his shoes.
“Please, excuse my clothing,” Alfonzo said, indicating to his robe and pajamas. “I wasn’t expecting visitors, and I seem to be catching that nasty flu that’s going around….”
Theodore held up a hand to stop him. “No need to apologize, my friend. I should have called before dropping in like this. But I’ve been so busy and I didn’t think I’d have time to visit….”
“It’s quite alright,” Alfonzo replied with a slight laugh. “Would you like to hang up your coat before we sit down? That might help you warm up faster.”
Theodore shook his head. “No, no thank you. I can only stay a few minutes.”
“Very well,” Alfonzo said. He led Theodore into a small but, well-kept kitchen. “Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, tea, water?” Theodore politely refused and sat down at Alfonzo’s dining table. “So then, how did you find me?” Alfonzo questioned, claiming the chair across from Theodore.
“I saw your name listed outside your church,” Theodore explained casually. “I took a chance, stopped in, and saw your picture lined up with all the other priests in the rectory. I thought it might be nice to catch up, so I talked to your secretary and told her who I was, and she directed me here.”
Alfonzo nodded. “Of course, that makes sense. Marge usually calls when this type of thing happens, but I guess it slipped her mind….” His voice trailed off and he shrugged. “Oh well. What’s done is done. So, how have the years been treating you? I understand you became a lawyer?”
“Yes, that’s quite right. To make a long story short, I established my own law firm, worked my tail off, and can now boast one of the largest practices in Pennsylvania,” he said. “As you can guess, it’s keeps me quite busy.”
“That’s good to hear,” Alfonzo grinned. “Any family? Wife or kids?”
Theodore shook his head. “No, no. Never had the time. A small price to pay for success, I suppose.”
“I suppose,” Alfonzo echoed. “You’re already aware that I joined the priesthood, so I have no wife or children of my own either.”
They carried on in this manner for some time, discussing each other’s lives, making small talk, and trading questions in a steady, rhythmic succession. Their tones were light, casual, and cheerful: two friends reconnecting after years apart.
“Well, I was quite surprised to hear that you actually went through with it,” Theodore remarked eventually, referring to Alfonzo’s work in the priesthood. “But with everything that happened before you left, I guess it makes sense.”
“You mean when Shannon Frick went missing?” Alfonzo responded. He frowned and dropped his gaze to his lap. “Yes, that did have something to do with it. Though I was toying with the idea long before she disappeared.”
Theodore lifted his eyebrows in surprise. “Really? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I thought it best to work it out on my own,” Alfonzo answered, fiddling with the belt on his robe. “I didn’t want to involve anyone else in my decision.”
“I see,” Theodore said. He leaned forward and placed his elbows on the tabletop, his pale blue eyes locked onto Alfonzo’s. “You know, I still think back to that night Shannon went missing. Every night, right before I fall asleep, I picture her in my mind.”
Alfonzo looked away before answering. “So do I. She was a good friend. What happened to her was a damn shame.”
“Do you ever sit back and just think about it?” Theodore continued. “What we could have done differently?”
“Yes,” Alfonzo admitted, his voice hard, “every day.” At once he lost himself in the memory, the same scene playing for him as it did a thousand times before.
A party, with more people crammed into a student’s tiny apartment than Alfonzo thought possible. He was twenty years old, with thick black hair and the occasional pimple that still erupted along his jaw line. He held a beer in one hand and watched the party-goers along the sidelines, feigning casualness despite the nervousness that weighed heavily in his belly. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and took a swig of alcohol.
“I didn’t think there’d be this many people,” Theodore remarked. “But we should go mingle, man. Looks like everyone’s having a good time.” Alfonzo glanced at his roommate out of the corner of his eye. Tall, blonde, handsome—It was no surprise to him that every female who walked by gave Theodore a double take.
“Sure,” Alfonzo said, his voice more steady than he felt. “I don’t really care. It’s not like I know anyone else here.”
Theodore nudged Alfonzo’s shoulder and pointed across the room. “You know one person. Look, isn’t that Shannon?”
Alfonzo felt a flush creep into his cheeks. It was Shannon: red-haired, pretty, with a voluptuous figure and full, pouting lips. “Yeah, that’s her alright.”
She caught sight of Theodore pointing, noticed Alfonzo, and walked over. She stumbled twice and sloshed her drink down the front of her blouse before reaching them. She was obviously quite drunk. “Hey,” she exclaimed. “Hey, I didn’t think you’d make it.” She placed a sloppy kiss on Alfonzo’s cheek, smearing her ruby lipstick against his skin.
“Yeah,” Alfonzo said, reaching a hand out to steady her, “my roommate talked me into coming.”
She peered over at Theodore and he nodded. “Hey,” she greeted before turning her attention immediately back to Alfonzo. “Come, come outside with me. I wanna ask you abou’ something.” Without waiting for a reply she grabbed the front of his shirt and steered through the front door. Once outside she turned and peered up at him, swaying unsteadily on her feet.
“Well, we’re here,” he said. He gripped her shoulders to support her again. “What did you want to ask me?”
“Listen, I’m real drunk,” she confessed. “I’ve had a few too many, I think. I don’t wanna walk home by myself. I think you should come with me.”
“Sure, I’ll walk you home,” Alfonzo replied. He began guiding her gently down the sidewalk when she ripped herself away from him.
“No, you don’t understand,” she cried. “I want you to stay with me. See, I like you a lot, and I know you like me…” She started rubbing her hands suggestively up and down his arms. “Please, Alfonzo, I don’t want to spend the night alone. My boyfriend just broke up with me. I need someone to keep me company. Please?”
Alfonzo gently untangled himself from her grasp. “Look, Shannon, you’re drunk. It wouldn’t be right. Let me just take you home and we’ll talk in the morning.”
“No!” She shouted and crossed her arms stubbornly over her chest. “I won’t go unless you stay with me.” Several people looked over, eyebrows raised in mild curiosity.
“Shannon, I can’t do that,” he said urgently. “Come on, let’s just go home. I promise I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“No!” she repeated. “What, are you gay or something? I knew it! Whatever, you stupid queer!”
Her words cut deep, and for a brief, shameful second Alfonzo wanted to slap her for saying something so cruel. “You don’t know what you’re saying,” he persisted. “You’re drunk. Just let me take you home and…”
“I said, leave me alone!” she screamed.
“Shannon, that’s not it at all,” he said through gritted teeth. She was starting to try his patience. “If you’ll just let me explain,” he reached for her hand.
She angrily pushed him away and fell back several feet herself. “Don’t touch me, you freak!” At that one of the guests snickered at his embarrassment. “I can walk myself home! Who needs you? I can get a better-looking guy anyway.” At this she turned and began staggering down the sidewalk, tripping several times over her high heels.
Alfonzo moved to follow her when he felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder. He turned to find Theodore standing beside him. “Let her go, man,” he said, shaking his head. “She’ll be fine. And if you follow her she’ll just scream and cause a scene.”
“But-,” Alfonzo started.
“Forget it,” Theodore interjected. “Trust me, I know what I’m talking about. Let’s just go back inside and enjoy the party.”
Alfonzo turned and obediently followed his roommate back into the house, but not before chancing one more look at Shannon’s retreating figure as she disappeared into the darkness. It was the last he ever saw of her.
Suddenly, Theodore’s voice cut through the memory like a knife. Alfonzo’s recollection of Shannon’s disappearance consumed his attention so thoroughly that Theodore’s words failed to register. He looked to his guest, eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. “I’m sorry, did you say something?”
“I said, you left with Bill Tomlinson shortly afterwards,” Theodore repeated. He crossed his arms over his chest and gazed at Alfonzo in mock disappointment. “Ditched me after you and Shannon got into that fight.”
“I just wasn’t feeling it after that,” Alfonzo said. “Good thing Bill was there, too. Had someone to back me up when the police questioned me.” For a moment neither of them spoke, each lost in his individual thoughts.
Alfonzo stared out his kitchen window and into the grey, foreboding sky. It started snowing; a dusting of flakes danced briefly against the glass before melting into drops of water. He could feel hostility beneath Theodore’s steady gaze and he protectively pulled his robe tighter against his frail body. “I should never have listened to you,” Alfonzo said quietly. “I should’ve followed my gut and walked her home.”
“So you blame me for it, then?” Theodore questioned. He clasped his hands together, leaned forward in his chair, and glared at his former roommate.
“No, actually,” Alfonzo sputtered quickly, daunted by Theodore’s imposing posture. “I blame myself more than anyone else. Really.”
“Right,” Theodore said, watching Alfonzo carefully. “And you don’t remember anything else that night? Nothing at all?”
“Nope. Just went straight to bed when I got back to our room. The beer really hit me that night and I fell asleep pretty quickly.” Alfonzo began twiddling his thumbs like a nervous child.
“You’re sure?” Theodore asked. “Think hard.”
“Yes, I’m sure.” Alfonzo furrowed his eyebrows and stared back across the table at his guest. “Why do you ask?”
Theodore studied his companion before answering, his expression completely unreadable. Slowly, his mouth stretched into a cold and unforgiving smile. “You always were a terrible liar, my friend.”
“Excuse me?” Alfonzo questioned. He straightened his spine against he back of his seat, as though distancing himself from Theodore’s accusations.
“You weren’t asleep when I came back that night,” Theodore said. “You were still awake. I could tell by your breathing.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Alfonzo insisted, his voice faltered unconvincingly. “I was asleep. I didn’t hear you at all.”
“Don’t play games with me!” Theodore snapped, slamming a fist against the table. Alfonzo flinched instinctively. “You were awake, and I know you heard me walk in! Now tell me, what did you see?”
Alfonzo leaned his head into his hands and steadied his breathing. It was as though his courage fled, tail tucked between its legs under his companion’s accusatory stare. “Very well. I can’t run from fate any longer,” his voice finally returned after a pause of painful silence. It shook like a dead leaf against a winter breeze. “I suppose I’ve been waiting for this moment nearly my entire life. Yes, I was awake that night Shannon went missing. I couldn’t sleep after everything that happened.”
“And?”
“What do you want me to say? I heard and saw everything: How intently you cleaned the dirt from your shoes, how desperate you seemed to throw your clothes into your laundry bag, even though you just washed them—you acted very much like a man with something to hide, determined to cover your tracks.” His words poured from his mouth like a flood breaking through a dam weakened by the passage of time. Not once did his eyes meet Theodore’s. Instead, he directed his anger at the table top, catching his own warped reflection in the scrubbed wooden surface.
Theodore’s shoulders sunk at Alfonzo’s revelation. “I knew it,” he whispered, mostly to himself. “If you saw all that, why didn’t you tell the police?”
Alfonzo finally met Theodore’s eyes. “Tell them what? That a potential valedictorian—our campus’s golden boy—murdered a girl and disposed of her body so well that no one ever found her remains? And what proof did I have? None. So I left, because I couldn’t stand to live with a murderer. And because I’m a coward,” he added.
“Well, don’t beat yourself up too much. It was my first time, after all,” Theodore admitted with a sigh. “I was bound to make a few mistakes like involving an innocent bystander.” He grinned at the stunned expression on Alfonzo’s face. “Oh, you mean you didn’t guess? Of course I didn’t stop with that drunken slut, you simple fool. I’ve been doing it for decades. But Shannon’s always been special to me; a man never forgets his first time.”
“Why?” Alfonzo erupted furiously. “ That poor girl did nothing to you. Why did you do it? Why did you kill her?”
“Because she was easy,” Theodore replied indifferently, without a trace of remorse. “Because she was drunk, and I couldn’t resist such an easy target.”
“My God…”
“It was almost too simple, really,” Theodore continued. “Once you left, I went out and found her myself. She could hardly walk, and when I wrapped my fingers around her throat, she barely put up a fight.”
“Stop,” Alfonzo begged. “I don’t want to hear anymore. Please.”
“It’s not a pretty sight when you actually strangle someone, you know.” Theodore carried on, clearly amused by Alfonzo’s reaction. “Her face turned red and her eyes bulged out of her sockets…”
“Shut up!” Alfonzo shouted. “Goddamn you, shut up!”
Theodore complied, though a low a chuckle escaped his lips and a grin stretched wide across his face. He watched his host slumped over the table, averting his eyes away from his guest.
“They never found her,” Alfonzo said after awhile. He spoke into hands. “What did you do with her body?”
“Oh that,” Theodore replied dismissively, as though he were speaking of a troublesome automobile and not a murdered girl. “I dumped her body into that filthy pond by the lumber mill, the one filled with trash. Tied her to a few cement blocks and she sunk right to the bottom, piece of cake.”
Alfonzo pictured the scene in his head: no one ever ventured too close to the pond, with its muddied water and sour stench. An image of Shannon’s corpse rotting amongst the debris churned his stomach. “You monster,” he hissed.
“I’m the monster?” Theodore snorted. “You were a witness. You had the chance to tell the police what you saw, but you never did. Who’s the real monster here, priest? The one who acted or the one who failed to act?”
Alfonzo shook his head and his hands clenched reflexively in rage and anguish. “How many girls?” he asked after a slight hesitation, steeling himself against Theodore’s response.
“What did you say?”
“I said, how many girls?” Alfonzo repeated. He peered at Theodore through his fingers. “How many girls did you kill?”
Theodore shrugged. “I don’t know…maybe ten, maybe twenty, maybe more. Does it really matter?”
Alfonzo sucked in his breath sharply. “Not to you, I suppose it doesn’t,” Alfonzo muttered. “Why? Why did you do it?”
“If you must know, it’s because men have certain… needs. And I can’t get it up unless a fair amount of violent foreplay is involved. You understand what I’m saying?” Theodore performed a lewd gesture for Alfonzo using his thumb and index fingers.
“You’re a sick bastard,” Alfonzo spat.
“That’s a lot of foul language coming from a holy man,” Theodore taunted. “Wouldn’t want a member of your congregation to hear that, now would you?” Alfonzo moved as though to stand just as Theodore whipped a pistol out from underneath his coat. “Don’t move, priest. Sit your ass back down.”
Alfonzo returned to his seat slowly, eyes darting from the weapon to Theodore’s eyes. “What do you intend to do with that?
“Well, I’m getting old,” Theodore spoke calmly. “I’m looking forward to a long and happy retirement. And I was going to let you go since after all these years you haven’t gone to the police or the media. But then I thought, why take the risk? I can’t have loose ends running around.”
“Are you going to kill me, then?”
“That’s right,” Theodore confirmed, his gun trained steadily on his host. “So, any last words, priest?”
“Just a question,” Alfonzo closed his eyes and braced himself for Theodore’s response. “Do you intend to kill anyone else after you’re done with me?
“What do you care? You’ll be dead anyway.”
“I just need to know,” Alfonzo pleaded. “Please. Give me this much, just a measure of peace before I die. That’s all I ask.”
“Very well,” Theodore replied. He heaved a giant sigh as though dealing with a petulant child. “No, I do not intend to kill anyone else. Happy?”
“And how do I know you’re not lying?” Alfonzo demanded.
“I’m a lawyer, remember?” Theodore laughed. “You have no way of knowing whether or not I’m lying. All you have is my word.”
Alfonzo stared hard at Theodore. Slowly his expression shifted from one of fear to one of steely triumph. “Yes, I think that will do. I hope you enjoy rotting in prison, murderer,” Alfonzo said. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and spoke into his robe. “There you have it, men. A full confession on tape, just as I promised.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Theodore asked. He gazed around the room in mild confusion. “What the hell was that supposed to mean?”
“You never spoke to my secretary,” Alfonzo challenged. “You knew where I lived because you’ve been stalking me for days. You think I didn’t notice some crazy old man following me everywhere? I may be a fool, but I’m not blind. Once I recognized you, I called the police and told them everything. They gave me a wire,” he pulled down his shirt to reveal a small recorder taped to his chest, “and told me to get as much out of you as I could. They’ve been listening this entire time.”
“You’re bluffing,” Theodore said in disbelief. He cocked his weapon and aimed into Alfonzo’s torso. “I’m going to kill you where you sit, you filthy liar.”
“If you say so,” Alfonzo replied, as though it mattered little to him. “Go ahead, then, shoot me. That’s just one more murder to add to the list.”
“You son of a-“ Theodore began. He jumped to his feet and then backed out of the room, his weapon never leaving Alfonzo’s chest. “I’m leaving. I’m getting the hell out of here. Don’t try to stop me.”
“So leave,” Alfonzo called from the kitchen. “The cops will arrest you as soon as you do. And I hope all that money you earned comes in handy. You’re going to need an excellent lawyer.”
Theodore did not reply. Instead, a panicked sob and single gunshot echoed throughout Alfonzo’s home. Then, silence. Alfonzo waited in the kitchen, breath held, listening for any signs of movement. When none came, he stood up slowly, gingerly placing his own weapon, a 9mm GLOCK pistol that he had hidden beneath his robe, atop his table. Slowly, pulled the miniature audio recorder (the same one he used to tape his sermons) from his chest.
The priest spent his entire life preparing for this single confrontation. Waiting, praying, and dying a little each day, he relived the precise minute he failed to act. He begged God for a chance to redeem him, yet no answer came except a vindictive silence. The years stretched into decades, with each hour more torturous than the one that came before.
So he purchased a gun, intending only to use it against himself. He bid his time, tied up all loose ends, and waited for the perfect time to deliver his soul into God’s hands. Just when Alfonzo thought he could not delay any longer, when life seemed impossible to live, he caught sight of his demon, Theodore, watching him intently from the back pew of his church.
He experienced a moment of complete clarity, as though the voice of fate echoed through his soul and revealed the full extent of God’s plan. So the priest waited, and waited, and each day Theodore drew a little closer, until he stood outside Alfonzo’s home, demanding entrance.
It was divine intervention, the destined conflict between good and evil with no distinct victor.
After all that happened, the years he wasted wallowing in despair and self-pity, Alfonzo knew that he could not allow Theodore to live. It was why he kept his own weapon always within reach; he refused to allow his enemy the upper hand.
With Theodore’s death, he hoped for some semblance of harmony, a kernel of absolution. But he received none, and he felt nothing. He stood there for a long time, silently begging God for a sign – anything – either condemning or praising his actions. None came.
Alfonzo let the air out of his lungs slowly and padded softly into his living room, mentally preparing himself whatever scene greeted him. Minutes later, he staggered back into the kitchen and wiped one shaking hand across his eyebrow. “Forgive me,” he said, to no one in particular: to Shannon, Shannon’s family, every innocent affected by the actions of a single psychopath and the inaction of a coward….
Finally, he picked up phone and punched a number into the keypad. “Hello, Police? … I’d like to report a suicide.”
About the Author
Hello, my name is Leah Veres. I am a Junior at Cal U majoring in Psychology. A fun fact about me is that I have piloted a plane twice when I was only twelve years old.