Captain O'Mally's Last Stand

         Mother of Christ Preparatory High School sits on an unlikely corner of town. Nestled between the discount grocery store and the Spanish meat market, the high walls of the Catholic prep school stand four stories tall, just north of the railroad tracks that divide the city into rich and poor. The edifice looms across the way from the economically priced and densely packed apartment buildings, almost as an affront to the community who cannot afford to send their children to the school named for the virgin mother and holy son whom they so often worship.

         On the south side of the railroad tracks lie the beautiful homes with green, fresh manicured lawns and three-car garages. Their driveways are adorned with statues, ponds, and fountains. The residents on the south side of the city all attend the Episcopal Church on Sundays, even though they send their children to the prep school on the other side of the tracks. But they have good reason; it's the best school around, and it's the only school in the area where their children can be educated in the teachings of Jesus Christ.

         After church they go to barbecues where they eat, meet, drink, and smile at each other. They leave business behind and know that they can be in like-minded company. But all the like-minded people don't always get along. There's the doctor, for instance, who is friends with the commercial property owner and they both hate the lawyer because he's always representing people in suits against them. The lawyer on the other hand, knows all the wives and they all like him well, except for the new bride of the advertising executive because he talked her husband into signing a prenuptial agreement following the lawyer's affair with her that went awry. 

         Then there's police captain Shamus O'Mally, the only Catholic in the bunch. He knows everything about everyone and makes a handsome profit on the side from the dealings that stem from these knowings. He's the one who told the doctor to beware when a young man complained to the police about the shady dealings between the hospital and the chiropractor. He also referred the same young man to the lawyer. Later on, it was O'Mally who convinced the advertising exec to get married after the lawyer refused to pay the standard referral fee.

         Let's get it straight however; the captain is not without his weaknesses. Sure he takes the odd bribe or kickback, but that's neither here nor there. But it's been said of the good captain that he spends so much time watching the snakes in the yard that he knows little of the spiders in his house. Namely, his wife and daughter.

         O'Mally's first wife was a woman of sense and diligence and she stood by his side when times were tough. And though her spirit was vibrant, her flesh began to age, and so the captain traded in his old wife for a newer model. A trophy wife with white veneer teeth, saline breasts, and a plastic smile. His daughter April, for whom he assumed custody for no other reason than to spite his ex, never quite forgave him. Having nothing but disdain in her heart for the good captain and his new wife, April grew rebellious.

         Although being the daughter of a police captain made it hard to get arrested, the local newspapers grew fond of April O'Mally and her antics. Her drunken episodes had the consistency of a weekly comic strip, and her vandalism was typically playful and harmed nobody except for the captain's reputation.

         On the other side of the tracks lived a handsome young boy who could strum a guitar and pluck its nylon strings as though he were commanding nature. It's only fair to mention that he made a modest income out of playing on the sidewalk of the art village south of the tracks, and the inhabitants knew his music and his face very well. His skills were so adept as to have earned him a full-ride scholarship at Mother of Christ Preparatory High School. 

         Nicholas the flamenco guitarist was a fish out of water when he first entered the prep school. His coffee-shaded skin and dark, untamed hair made him stick out of the texture like a grain of pepper in an ocean of non-dairy creamer. But nobody could resist his musical charms and when he began to sing, he caught the attention of beautiful, young April O'Mally.

         April and Nicholas met and found that they had much more in common besides their inherent ability to be hypnotized by music. April invited Nick back to her house, because she wasn't allowed to roam far from home these days. Her father's recent run for public office had influenced him to place her on a two-month unconditional restriction and the hope was that it would keep her rebellious attitude away from the public eye. Still, she was able to escape while her father was busy, which was most of the time, by way of blackmail. April had hidden a motion sensitive camera in her stepmother's drawing room and was able to produce lurid pictures of her sharing some personal time with her personal trainer. April used the photographs as leverage to get what she wanted at home, but she was careful not to overuse them. 

         In an odd coincidence, the captain had been home on the day April invited Nicholas to the house, and he was furious. The thought of a street minstrel from the wrong side of the tracks having relations with his daughter filled him with blind rage.

         From that day on, Captain O'Mally decided to have his daughter followed. He would know her every movement from that day on. In addition, he ordered a narcotics investigation on the home of Nicholas and his parents, knowing full well that the mere implication of a drug charge would cost him his scholarship and his future. Nick and April were able to steal moments together, but they didn't speak outside of school. They became the greatest of friends, but the truth is, their relationship was completely platonic.

         April knew she was being watched and was able to seek out and seduce her observer. Then she forced him to pay her for their frequent rendezvous under penalty of notifying the authorities as to the nature of their relationship. In the same way she was able to photograph her stepmother, April produced concrete evidence of her affair with Tony, the captain's lackey. It's not that she had any use for the money. In fact, she gave it to Nicholas because he could no longer play his guitar at the art village, or anywhere south of the tracks for that matter, and she felt somehow responsible.

         The day came when Captain O'Mally ordered a full scale drug raid on the house of the family of Nicholas. The newspapers were called to report on the raid by an anonymous source. It seemed like a good story to follow, being that the captain was currently running for public office. Sure enough, when the police arrived, there was a small bag of marijuana on the premises. There was a scale in the kitchen that his mother used for weighing food and sandwich bags in the kitchen drawer. Along with the small stack of hundred dollar bills that April had given him from her exploits with Tony the lackey, it looked for a second like a clear cut case of possession with intent to sell. 

         The parents were separated in their own home for questioning. The father in the kitchen stared despondently at the floor while an officer on either side of him fired questions faster than he could process them. The mother in the living room bit her lip while her son lay face down on the floor in front of her,one officer on top of Nick, and another shouting, "Bad mother!!" as if scolding a dog.

         Then Nicholas spoke.

         "Everything you're looking for is in the vent inside my bedroom wall!"

         The house went quiet. Then a voice exploded from Nicholas' bedroom.

         "Captain O'Mally! Captain, come quick!!"

         The good captain was handed a small stack of pictures that he quickly shuffled through and then stood quiet. He threw up in his mouth, swallowed it, and then threw up again all over the bedroom rug.

         "Call it off!" they yelled. "Everybody get the hell out! Call it off!!!"

         "What about the papers?" one detective asked.

         "Screw the papers! Give the captain some space!"

         Inside the heating vent on the wall of the boy's bedroom were a small stack of pictures. Some displaying his wife in her drawing room naked alone with a well-built man who was also naked. Some with a fat man lying naked, face down atop a tangled mesh of arms, legs, and hair. At a second glance, it was Tony, the captain's lackey. Then the last photograph. April O'Mally mostly disrobed, her hair a mess, and holding a cardboard sign in front of her chest with a message written across in felt marker.

         In big, bold letters, it read, "Hi Dad!"