Small Time Crime (Mercy Watts Mysteries Book 10)

by A W Hartoin

  “Not anymore.”

  “That’s temporary.”

  “We’ll see.” Fats paced in front of me. “I had to hear about this from Calpurnia. Do you know how this makes me look? Do you have any idea?”

  I really didn’t and it must’ve showed.

  “You are my problem. I’m supposed to keep an eye on you.”

  “Since when?”

  “Since Calpurnia decided to like you and you keep trying to get killed,” said Fats.

  “You knew about Greece the first time.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So?”

  Fats yanked out her hairband and shook her light brown hair. It didn’t help. She was just more lion than cheetah. “So I knew where you were and what was happening. I have to be in the know. If I’m not in the know, Calpurnia will know that I don’t know and pretty soon I won’t know anything. Understand?”

  Not even a little bit.

  “Sure. Why not?”

  “We’re friends. Friends tell each other when they’re going to leave the country or investigate fifty-year-old murders,” said Fats.

  “You know about that?”

  She took off her Wayfarers and gave me the obviously look. “Calpurnia has an interest.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “He will not help you with this.”

  “Why are you telling me this?” I asked. “I’d rather not know anything about Calpurnia.”

  “Because we’re friends,” she said. “You’re going to be my maid of honor.”

  What now?

  “Er…I didn’t know that,” I said.

  “Obviously, I need a maid of honor and you are my only female friend.”

  If I was her only female friend, that wasn’t a good sign. She was kinda foisted on me.

  “How can that be? What about high school friends? Other bodybuilders?”

  She shrugged and put on her sunglasses. “I scare other women. It’s always been like that. I can’t wear clothes off the rack and I can’t make female friends. That’s why Calpurnia keeps me with you. I don’t scare you.”

  Not remotely true.

  “I don’t really see why you have to keep track of me, but okay.”

  “It’s a family thing. Plus, you’re useful. Take this nun thing, for instance,” said Fats.

  “What about it? Please say Calpurnia isn’t related to Sister Maggie.”

  Calpurnia Fibonacci wasn’t connected to Maggie or anyone related to the case. She was aware of the case before it came up on my radar. As a deeply religious Catholic—I know, it doesn’t quite make sense being the head of criminal enterprise—she was concerned about what I was going to uncover about the church.

  “She’s worried I’m going to make the church look bad?” I asked.

  “She’s worried that the church covered up what really happened. They’ve had a continuous black eye for years. They don’t need another one.”

  “Are you serious?” I asked. “If they did do something, I’m not going to cover it up again and let some murderer off.”

  Fats took me by the arm and steered me out the back door. “If you find out that someone other than the priest did it and they’re still alive, believe me, they will not be getting off. It’s just that nobody needs to know about it.”

  “I can’t control that. The FBI knows.”

  “We don’t expect you to control it. We’ll handle it. You just do whatever you’ve got to do.”

  Fats put me in her truck, slammed the door, and locked it. Like I could escape. Puhlease.

  She got in. “Alright. Where are we going?”

  I gave her Mary’s address and that’s how I got Fats Licata helping me investigate three murders that I very much suspected the Catholic church did not want me to solve.

  I begged Fats not to come in. I begged. I didn’t want to explain why I had this giant, angry woman with me when I already had to explain why I wanted to talk about Sister Maggie’s murder and the rest of it.

  “Save your breath,” said Fats as she trailed me to Mary’s front door on a quiet suburban street out in Crestwood.

  “You just said you scare women,” I said.

  “In this case, it’s useful.”

  “No, it’s not. Mary is a newly-minted widow and seriously old.”

  “Then this won’t be hard. Good. You’ll have time to talk to Tiny today. He’s acting weird.”

  “Define weird.”

  “I don’t know. Weird. Nervous.”

  Awesome. He’s going to dump her.

  “You make people nervous. It’s what you do,” I said.

  Fats pulled open the storm door and said softly. “Not him. Everybody but him. Now knock.”

  I raised my hand, but I didn’t get the chance. The door flew open and there was Mary. Tiny little Mary with her favorite blond wig on and a smile crinkling a face the color of a well-used paper bag. “Where have you been? I’ve been waiting here, doing nothing just waiting.”

  “Um…I…I’m sorry. I was delayed. I should’ve called.”

  “It’s fine. I’ve just got bingo at seven, but I do like to get there early so Mabel West doesn’t steal my seat.” She looked over at Fats, slowly craning her neck up to the six eight Fats was in her boots. “Well, I’ll be. You are one tall woman.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Fats.

  “You planning on having children?” asked Mary.

  That took Fats back for a second. It occurred to me that people didn’t tend to talk to Fats. She talked to them and they tried to get away. “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Is your man large?”

  “He is.”

  “Those will be some big babies. My sister married a big man and those babies were a handful. Could not keep them in shoes. I swear I saw one grow an inch during church. He split his pants when he reached for a donut afterwards and I am not kidding. He was a linebacker for the Eagles, but he’s a pastor now. He has some big kids, too. Oh, my lord. Why are you standing out there? It’s cold. You’re letting all the heat out.”

  We went into the blast furnace that was Mary’s living room. It had to be at least eighty degrees in there and Fats started peeling off the layers. I only had one layer to peel, and I wished I could take off my shirt.

  “Would you like some coffee?” asked Mary. “I made a fresh pot for you.”

  I’m going to melt from the inside.

  “Yes, please,” I said with a glance at Fats, who was looking like coming in was the biggest mistake of her life.

  “I’d love some coffee,” said Fats.

  We sat down on Mary’s plastic-covered couch while she got the coffee and Fats whispered, “Why?”

  “Which part?” I asked.

  “All of it.”

  “She’s old. What can I say?”

  Mary came in, put down a tray, and adjusted her hearing aid. “What was that?”

  “Nothing,” I said. “It’s just that you seem to be doing well.”

  “They told you I’m wasting away, pining for my Lester?”

  “Kinda.”

  She nodded and poured us mugs of steaming hot coffee and a bead of sweat rolled down my cheek. “I did that, but now I’m over it.”

  “Over it?”

  “Wasting away. Mourning. Wailing. Didn’t care for it.” She sipped her coffee. “Lester wouldn’t like it. I was his firecracker. He called me his Fourth of July girl. I’ve got life left in me and he’d want me to live it, not sit around like those other old widows, moaning about how they don’t have anything to live for. Lester was my husband. I loved him with every fiber, but he wasn’t my whole being. Those women act like they can’t turn on a light switch without a man. I raised five children. None of them are in jail or stupid. I can do anything. How do you two know each other?”

  “We’re friends,” said Fats a little more emphatically than she probably intended.

  Mary eyed her and said, “I assumed that. How did you become friends? I’ve known Mercy every day of her life and I don’t know y
ou.”

  “I…uh…”

  “Mary Elizabeth is my cousin Tiny’s girlfriend,” I said quickly.

  She threw up her hands. “Tiny, of course. He’s a good man and huge. You better start setting aside food money right now, Mary Elizabeth.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Now to what do I owe this visit?” asked Mary.

  I explained the situation and drank my coffee, sweating so much my panties were damp.

  “Oh, yes. Sweet Maggie. That was a tragedy and you know Father Dominic didn’t kill that girl. Ridiculous to even suggest that.” Mary leaned forward, conspiratorially. “I think he was murdered, too. Don’t tell my daughter that. She’d have me hauled off to a home. I’m not going to a home.”

  “You know what, Mary,” I said. “I think you might be right. Tell me everything you remember.”

  Mary remembered quite a lot and, as with everything, she had an opinion. She thought the church had let Maggie, Dominic, and The Girls down. This was unforgivable and I agreed. Lester told her everything that happened during those horrid days and would come home to report it all to his firecracker. When it became clear that Maggie was gone and no one was looking, Mary helped with the search headed by Dominic. She thought he did everything possible to find her. No one could’ve done more, but Bishop Fowler thwarted him at every turn. The man was actually mad that she’d missed their appointment and left him sitting there “like a fool” as if that was the important thing. Lester overheard the bishop chastising Dominic for pressing the case to report Sister Maggie as missing, calling her a fallen woman and saying that this would put the church in a bad light. Dominic didn’t care about what light it cast. He wanted Maggie found.

  The Girls were frantic as were Maggie’s family and Dominic. Everyone who knew her was in a state, except the bishop. And after her body was found the panic turned to hysterical grief and anger. Mary was there at the mansion making sandwiches to feed the search team when Uncle Josiah came to tell them Maggie was dead. The bishop showed up shortly afterward and offered to pray with The Girls. They wouldn’t get near him.

  Mary said that she would never forget the look on the bishop’s face. She described him as annoyed when Dominic and The Girls’ husbands pressed for a widespread investigation, newspaper, and TV news coverage. And then he said, “The church must always be our priority. It is time to move on from this unpleasant affair lest it stain our most holy of missions.”

  Lester had to stop Uncle Josiah from punching the bishop. Dominic screamed at him that he didn’t care that Maggie was dead and that God was watching and judging his callousness to one of his own. The bishop never changed expressions and the two priests that had come with him had to persuade him to leave, saying things like “this is not helping.”

  “What do you think that was about?” I asked.

  Mary poured another cup of coffee. “Isn’t it obvious? The church was the priority. Bishop Fowler wanted to protect the reputation of the church at all costs.”

  “Makes you wonder who else he protected,” said Fats.

  “I think we can all guess,” said Mary. “But this situation with Maggie, Lester always wondered about it.”

  “Wondered what?” I asked.

  “What he had against Maggie. He never lifted a finger to find her or showed any concern at all. I suppose I can understand not wanting the lurid details in the newspaper after she was found. Maggie was a nun, after all, but he didn’t want the real criminal found. He wanted it to be Dominic, even though nobody believed that. The bishop just wanted it to go away.”

  “He didn’t like her,” said Fats. “You said he called her wanton.”

  “Yes, he did, among other things.”

  “It was personal,” I said. “I wonder how well he actually knew Maggie.”

  “You should ask Father Bernard,” said Mary. “He was one of the priests that got the bishop out of the mansion that day.”

  “He’s still alive?” asked Fats.

  Mary scowled. “Yes, young lady. We haven’t all dropped dead.”

  “Sorry. I assumed he was older at the time.”

  “I seem to remember Father Bernard as younger.” She looked at me. “About Miriam’s age at the time.”

  How old was that? Aunt Miriam young was a foreign concept.

  “Do you have any idea where he is?” I asked.

  “He’d be old enough to retire, I think. Priests work longer than normal people, you know.”

  I didn’t. I never thought about it. Growing up, all the priests seemed ancient.

  “Where do priests retire?” asked Fats. “Florida?”

  Mary chuckled. “They wish. If he retired here, he’s probably down at the home by the Cardinal Rigali Center. The Girls raised money for it.”

  I remembered that. Regina Cleri. I’d been roped into serving at a fish fry and more than a couple pancake breakfasts to raise funds for some updates.

  “We’ll go there next.” Fats stood up, leaving moisture on the plastic. I hated to think about the sweat pool under me.

  “You should,” said Mary. “Liven up his day. Tell him to fess up or I’ll come visit.”

  “Does he know you?”

  She got cagey. “I may have said some things that day.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  “And at the funeral.”

  “Really?”

  A little smile came over her face. “They deserved to know how everyone felt. They didn’t care for Maggie and had the nerve to officiate her funeral. I let that so-called man have it.”

  “How did Lester feel about that?” I asked. Lester was a mild-mannered man. I never had a harsh word from him, not even when I set fire to the garage.

  “He wasn’t happy. But I’m a grown woman. I don’t ask permission.”

  “Mary,” said Fats, “I think you’re my hero.”

  “Good and when you have those babies, bring them around. I love the young ones.”

  “I will.” Fats went for the door, but I stayed put.

  Mary raised a penciled-on eyebrow. “Cat got your tongue, Mercy?”

  “I wanted to ask you about something else,” I said.

  She gathered the coffee mugs and picked up her tray. “Go on. I haven’t got all day.”

  “Did Lester ever talk to you about me?”

  “God, yes. You were the most troublesome child. Always asking questions. Getting into things. You wanted him to read to you and let you drive when you were four. My goodness the stories. Do you remember when you dug out the root ball of one of those huge banana trees?”

  “I did that?” I asked. “Why?”

  “Who knows. Lester thought you wanted to find out what was in there. You couldn’t just assume it was dirt like a normal child. You had to see for yourself.”

  “That explains a lot,” said Fats.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “It fell over. Took down three other trees with it. Huge mess. Lucky it didn’t take out any of those glass walls. The Girls just said you were curious and set about cleaning it up.”

  “No punishment?” Fats was aghast. So was I.

  “Probably no dessert or something like that. She set the garage on fire later on, so it didn’t work.”

  “Why did they put up with me?” I asked to get us back on track.

  “They love you,” said Mary. “Simple as that.”

  “Do you know why?”

  Mary watched me for a moment, weighing her options, and then carried the tray into her small but immaculate kitchen. I followed with Fats squeezing in behind me and we watched her tidy up.

  “Mary?” I asked. “Am I a Bled?”

  “Why don’t you ask The Girls?”

  “I have. They avoid the subject, but with everything that’s happened and how we’re all treated it seems like…”

  “You’re family? Yes, it does seem that way,” said Mary.

  “Did Lester tell you anything? Joy’s mother said she saw them curled up with a family tree an
d were talking about me.”

  She wiped off the counter and wrung out her dishcloth. “That man did not tell me anything about that and don’t think I didn’t ask.”

  “Nothing?” asked Fats. “But you’re so…”

  “Persistent?” She laughed. “Yes, I am, but he wouldn’t say a thing. My Lester was loyal. I think he gave his word and he stuck to it. Do you want my opinion?”

  “I do,” I said. “Very much.”

  “You’re a Bled. I don’t know how, but you are. Tommy is. Ace and Miriam are.”

  I thought about everything I’d heard about Grandad, my dad, but, also, Aunt Miriam. “I had the impression that The Girls found out about us when they met my grandad. There was a break-in at the mansion. He was assigned the case.”

  Mary nodded. “Sounds right.”

  “But Sister Maggie was very good friends with my Aunt Miriam. How come they didn’t know about us back when Maggie died or even before? Aunt Miriam was here in St. Louis.”

  “Mercy, girl, the first time I ever remember laying eyes on Miriam was at Maggie’s funeral.”

  “Really?” I asked. “She wasn’t at the house when the bishop came or during the searching?”

  “If she was, I didn’t notice her,” said Mary. “Try to remember. It was a crazy time. A lot of people were at the mansion that I didn’t know. The whole Mullanphy family was there. All the charities that The Girls served on were there and quite a few nuns and priests.”

  “But you noticed her at the funeral,” said Fats.

  Mary sighed. “I did. Lester did. St. James was packed to the rafters. Everybody and their brother was there. The papers outright refused to cover Maggie’s case or her funeral. She got the smallest obituary you’ve ever seen, but The Girls got the word out and Maggie was mourned.”

  “Then how in the world did you notice Aunt Miriam?” I asked.

  Mary told me why and I got saddest pang in my chest. All the nuns were together assembled up in front, together in grief, sisters. But one tiny little nun wasn’t there with them. When the pallbearers carried Maggie’s casket out to the hearse, Mary spotted her, standing half hidden behind one of the pillars by herself and sobbing silently. Mary noticed her again at the graveside service. Aunt Miriam stood off by herself and didn’t speak to anyone and left the moment it was over, riding off on a battered bicycle in below freezing weather. Mary asked another nun who she was and the nun said that Sister Miriam was Sister Maggie’s good friend and that Maggie was a mentor to her.