PENITENCE: An Andi Comstock Supernatural Mystery, Book 2 (95,893 words)

by Ann Simas

  On Saturday, with the pressure of finessing Bunnicula eased for the weekend, she headed out in search of a dress for the wedding. Gerd had asked her to try and find something in the purple family, so it would coordinate with the bouquets. Her own dress, she said, would be a traditional floor length white gown, but encouraged Andi to choose whatever length she felt comfortable with.

  Finally, at the last place Andi shopped, the perfect dress in a delicious lavender practically jumped off the rack at her. She’d never been in a wedding party before, or even owned a dress quite like this one and she fell in love with it instantly. The bonus would be that she could wear it later, for other special occasions. When she tried it on, she stared at her reflection in shock. The ruched bodice and cap sleeves, the fitted waist, the tulip skirt—it all came together and made her look like…someone she’d never seen before.

  “You’re a knockout,” the saleswoman said, circling her, inspecting the fit with a trained eye. “The style, the color. That dress was made for you, sweetie. Let’s see what we can find for the right shoe to complement your dress and those gorgeous legs of yours.”

  Gorgeous legs? Andi couldn’t help a brief glance down at her mirrored self to check out said appendages. She followed the woman obediently into the adjoining shoe department. Half an hour later, she carried her hangered dress, new lingerie, and a shoe box to her car. The clerk’s advice rang in her ears. Practice walking in these heels, since you’re not used to wearing them, and when you get outside, scuff the soles so you don’t slip later on any carpet you may walk on.

  The warning almost made Andi wish her beautiful charmeuse satin dress could be worn with flats. She wasn’t exactly the most graceful female on the planet.

  Checking traffic, she pulled out onto the roadway and headed for her sister Natalie’s place. She’d left the dress shop with a beautiful beaded hair clip, too, and Nat could help her figure out how to style her hair with it.

  Not long after she arrived, Nat’s doorbell sounded. “It’s Mom,” she told Andi. “I texted her that you were on your way.”

  “Gee, thanks,” Andi said, girding herself for an inquisition, if not a lecture, on keeping in touch.

  “Andi, I’d almost forgotten what you look like,” her mother said with exaggerated drama.

  “It’s only been a couple of weeks since New Year’s, Mom,” Andi reminded her.

  Her mother sniffed, even though she did give Andi a hug. “I suppose you forgot to pay your phone bill, since you never call.”

  “I’ve been really busy. Honest.”

  Cate Comstock narrowed her eyes on her youngest child. “Busy, as in writing game apps, or busy, as in talking to the dead?” Her voice lowered on that last, intensifying her dramatic delivery of the question.

  Andi decided to be honest. “Both, plus I was asked to be in a wedding tomorrow and I had to find myself a dress and Nat’s helping me figure out a hairstyle to do with this clip.”

  Her mother’s jaw actually dropped in surprise. “You’re in a wedding and you didn’t tell me about it?”

  “It just came up a couple of days ago, Mom. I haven’t really had time to even think about it until today. Besides, now you know.”

  “Is your dress in the car?” Nat asked. “I want to see it.”

  “Me, too,” Cate said. She sighed, again revealing her dramatic side. “I suppose being in a wedding party is the closest any of my children are ever going to get to marriage.”

  Andi and Natalie looked at each other and rolled their eyes before they burst into laughter.

  Their mother responded by crossing her arms and trying unsuccessfully to conjure a hurt expression, which made them laugh all the harder.

  After the impromptu fashion show and hairstyling event, Andi went home with a headache. She took two ibuprofen and laid down, awakened three hours later by the pounding on her door.

  “I thought you were going to call me when you finished shopping,” Jack said, staring down at her when she opened the door.

  “I was going to, but I had a headache when I got home. I stopped by my sister’s to have her help me figure out my hair for tomorrow and she texted Mom that I was there and then Mom spent an hour suggesting why I should get a new job so I don’t hear dead people anymore.” Andi put a hand to her temple, willing the remnants of the headache away. “I took something for my head and laid down for a minute when I got home and the next thing I knew, you were at the door.” She stepped back so he could come inside.

  “You must have been sleeping the sleep of the dead.” As soon as the words left his mouth, he realized what he’d said and grinned. “Sorry for the inadvertent reference to your Smokies, but I’ve been calling you every thirty minutes all afternoon.”

  “I guess I was extra tired because I haven’t been sleeping well,” she admitted, “and my phone is in my purse, which is on the kitchen counter. I didn’t hear it ring.”

  “You’re worrying about Denise.”

  She lifted a shoulder. “I can’t help it.”

  “You can’t take the full load of it on yourself, babe.”

  Andi didn’t see it that way. Clem had spoken to her. Who else could be tasked with worrying, besides Denise herself? “It looks like Monday’s going to be the day.”

  “It may very well be, but he’ll never get at her, trust me on that.”

  “Where there’s a will, there’s a way.”

  “I’ve never known you to be so gloom-and-doomy.”

  “I’ve never had to stop a murder before and been unsuccessful at it.”

  He laid his hand against her cheek. “Jesus, Andi, you’re ice cold.” He led her over to a chair at the dining table. “Sit. I’ll fix you a cup of something hot. What do you want? Coffee? Tea? Hot chocolate?”

  “I’ll take a hot toddy. You know how to make one of those?”

  “No, but evidently you do. Tell me how and I’ll fix you right up.”

  Andi gave him instructions. He doubled the recipe and in a few minutes, set two steaming mugs down on the table. She wrapped her hands around hers for warmth. “I’m so scared, Jack. I’ve wracked my brain over the last ten months trying to figure out why me. All I can think is that God’s fine hand is at work here, otherwise the dead who’ve been cremated would be talking to everyone. But that still doesn’t answer the question, why me? It has to be because I’m supposed to help those who are troubled in some way that keeps them from crossing over. This is the second time it’s happened. I can count Sherry as success story, but Clem seems doomed to be headed for failure, which means I am, too.”

  “Sherry’s case wasn’t without risk, and ultimately, it presented life-threatening peril for both you and me,” he reminded her.

  “More for you than for me.”

  “Not really. Dawna wanted you out of the way so she could get me.”

  Andi didn’t necessarily agree with him, but she didn’t disagree, either. It was just that in Dawna’s case, there was a little more to it than that. “Why can’t I think of a logical solution to Clem’s screw up?”

  “Babe, how many times do I have to remind you that solving crime is my domain, not yours?”

  “If I hadn’t taken matters into my own hands, would things have resolved like they did with Dawna?”

  His internal struggle to admit what she already knew to be true was almost comical. “Probably not,” he admitted, “but that doesn’t mean you need to get involved this time.”

  “Too late. Clem involved me first, remember?” She sucked in her cheeks, thinking. “Clem confirmed Dex Moran is an alias.”

  “What? When?”

  “Yesterday. I guess I forgot to mention it because we had already figured that out.”

  “Did he know who the guy really is?”

  “I don’t know. He was playing games and then he disappeared before he told me anything significant. I was hoping that EPD would find something, but if they haven’t by now, they won’t.”

  “I’ve never known you to be so c
ynical.”

  “You’ve never known me not to be able to stop someone from being murdered, either.”

  “Andi—”

  “I don’t know why Clem didn’t come back and tell me who Dex Moran is. He’s such a jerk.”

  “From all you’ve told me, I can’t disagree.”

  She snicked her tongue in disgust. “I get so sick of him not being straightforward! He came to me for help, so why doesn’t he give me everything he’s got, instead of making me drag it out of him?”

  “I wish I knew.” He rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “Drink your, toddy, babe, then let’s go over and talk to Father Riley.”

  “He’s not always the answer to my problems.”

  “I know, but maybe he can help ease your worries.”

  “I doubt it, but if you insist, we should call first. He might be busy.”

  Jack whipped out his phone and dialed. “Are you busy, or would like some company? … Good, we’ll see you in half an hour.”

  “Aren’t you just the efficient little counseling moderator.” She could tell the barb stung by the way his eyebrows shot up, but she didn’t feel like apologizing.

  “I’ll give you a pass on that bit of unnecessary sarcasm because I know you’re stressed.”

  Andi didn’t have the heart to tell him he wouldn’t know what stressed was until she was really stressed. That would come on Monday, Clem’s birthday. And Denise’s last day on earth if they didn’t do something to stop The Liquidator.

  . . .

  Father Riley was putting a jigsaw puzzle together when they got to the rectory. “I find it relaxing,” he said by way of explanation.

  Andi studied the photo on the top of the puzzle box, which was a frenzied mass of road signs. “Looks to me like you’re hoping to avert a meltdown by taking your repressed aggressions out on a puzzle.” She realized immediately that her words were laced with sarcasm, but she didn’t care.

  Father Riley exchanged an amused look with Jack, who said, “I believe she’s armchair-psychoanalyzing you as an example to me of why I shouldn’t have done it to her.”

  The priest laughed. “I’d say that doesn’t make a bit of sense, except it does.”

  “I’m glad you both get it,” Andi groused, though she was feeling more lighthearted already. She tugged off her coat and threw it over the back of the sofa. “Let’s get busy on this puzzle.”

  An easy camaraderie was established without much trouble. They were three friends, all of whom understood they shared a common worry. The evening passed without any further counseling or even a discussion on how to proceed with finding Clem’s hitman. Around eight, Father Riley made popcorn and by ten, the final pieces of the five-hundred-piece puzzle were in place.

  Andi and Jack pulled it apart while Father Riley took their glasses and dishes to the kitchen. By the time they said goodnight, Andi felt as if the crushing weight on her had been lifted.

  They were about to climb into Jack’s vehicle, when Father Riley called out from the rectory porch, “Andi, when you get home, look up Saint Jerome Emiliani. Perhaps he can shed some light on your internal quandary.”

  Andi thought it a little odd that he’d waited until she was out the door to provide her with a possible piece of wisdom, but called back, “Thanks, I will.”

  Jack walked her up to her apartment door, and after a long and leisurely kiss, said he’d pick her up at eight-forty, so they could make nine o’clock mass. “Want to go get breakfast after?”

  They didn’t have to be back at the chapel until two for the wedding. “That sounds good.”

  He waited while she unlocked her door and stepped inside.

  “Jack?”

  “Yeah, babe?”

  “Thank you.”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “I should be thanking you. Forcing you to go over to Riley’s was good for both of us.” He tapped the end of her nose. “Have a good sleep, sunshine.”

  “You, too. See you in the morning.”

  Knowing she wouldn’t be able to nod off after a three-hour nap, Andi climbed into her PJs, then turned on the gas-log fireplace and plopped down in front of it with her book on saints. She’d opened it so often, the pages had already begun to show wear. Father Riley could be blamed for that, with the frequent saint references he always somehow tied directly to her and her life.

  She’d bought the book not long after she’d met him. His comparison of her to St. Jeanne d’Arc, because they both heard voices, had both intrigued and frightened her. He’d also connected her to St. Gemma Galgani, for whom St. Gemma’s church was named. Gemma had died on April 11, Andi’s birthday, and she was known for always speaking to her guardian angel. Andi, too, had a guardian angel who had come to her aid the day she’d saved Jack from Dawna’s clutches.

  And then there was one other tie-in to saints by way of Jack’s LT. Stacy, whose full name was Anastasia, had been named, not for the famous duchess, but for St. Anastasia. Andi had looked up the saint in her book and discovered that her benefaction was to protect the faithful from poison and other harmful substances, which had been particularly ironic, since Dawna had poisoned Sherry.

  Andi checked the index for Saint Jerome Emiliani, then flipped through until she landed on his page. According to the narrative, he’d been a dedicated soldier in the city–state of Venice. Captured in a insignificant battle and imprisoned, he’d been forced to reevaluate his former life and what lay ahead of him once he obtained his freedom. Ultimately, he had reached the conclusion that, while his previous life was at dead end, if he opened his eyes and put away his frustrations, he would discover alternate life paths at his disposal. Upon his release, he resigned the military, joined the priesthood, and spent his life helping others.

  Andi reread the page over and over. Dead ends. Alternatives. Seeing what’s in front of you.

  Father Riley was a crafty one. Had he spent hours searching for exactly the right saint for her particular internal dilemma?

  How had he known, without her telling him, that she needed St. Jerome Emiliani’s lesson?

  When you reach a dead end, look beyond the obvious and consider the not-so-obvious.

  Seven centuries later, the message still packed a wallop.

  . . .

  The benefit of going to an early mass was that you didn’t have to sit through a sermon. It wasn’t that Andi didn’t like Father Riley’s sermons. She did. Most of the time.

  But on this morning, feeling refreshed in every way, she just wanted to pray. She thanked God for bringing Father Riley O’Shaughnessy into her life. And Jack Harmon. And a host of others who made her existence complete. When she was finished giving thanks, she asked for guidance. She prayed for help in opening her mind to all the possibilities pertaining to Clem and what he’d planned for Denise.

  For a brief moment, she experienced a surge of overwhelming frustration, but the feeling fled and in its wake came a sense of serenity.

  It was an old idiom, but appropriate for the time being, that she couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Once she took a step back and considered the bigger picture, she’d be able to see the forest and the trees.

  Andi knew then that everything would be all right. She’d be able to keep her promise to Denise, no sweat.

  In a few hours, she’d be standing up for Gerd as she joined in holy matrimony with Orion. What a joyous occasion, in spite of, or maybe because of, the speed with which the relationship had escalated. Deep down inside, she knew that Gerd and Orion would have a long, happy, and loving life together, with many children to show for it.

  After breakfast, she and Jack went to collect the wedding present they’d picked out for the couple, pleased with how beautifully it had been wrapped. They went by his place after that so he could change into his black suit.

  He pulled on white shirt and laughed when Andi produced a tie that she informed him coordinated with her dress. “I thought this was a black-tie affair.”

  “It is, and I think the su
it more than qualifies you in that regard.”

  “I’ve never tied one on to match a maid of honor before,” he teased.

  “Aren’t you just clever with words today?” she shot back, grinning.

  Then it was time to go back to Andi’s so she could dress. Jack sat on her bed, watching her apply makeup as the transformation from Andi-the-church-goer to Andi-the-maid-of-honor began. She should have shooed him out of the room, but she liked having him close by and she also kind of liked the way his blue eyes heated up as he watched her every movement.

  She messed with her hair, gathering it loosely on top of her head the way she and Nat had practiced it, and secured it with the beautiful beaded clip. She had to admit, it looked pretty good.

  Jack confirmed it when he said, “I like your hair up like that.”

  “You do?”

  “Absolutely. I’ll have extra good access to your neck.”

  “Don’t tell me you’re developing fangs like Bunnicula.”

  “For a chance to nibble you, I’d grow them in a New York minute.”

  Andi giggled and pulled her new lingerie ensemble from the drawer. A moment later, the black garter belt that matched her panties and new bra was hooked into place and on came the stockings.

  “Be still my heart,” Jack murmured, watching with rapt attention.

  “You can help me get out of all this later.”

  “Promise?”

  “Guaranteed.”

  Finally, she stepped into the lavender dress, rather than pulling it on over her hair. The tulip skirt landed about three inches above her knees. “Can you zip me?”

  Jack sprang up off the bed to do her bidding. Once the zipper was up, he planted kisses against her exposed back and neck, sending shivers of delight through Andi. The dress was perfect in more ways than one.

  He released her and she moved away to slide her feet into the heels. She turned toward him with one hand against the bureau in case she tottered. “What do you think?” she asked with uncertainty. The square neckline exposed more skin above her breasts than she’d ever exposed before.