by Regina Doman
“I’m sure you have,” the girl said.
“I’ve had my wild days, I’ll tell you, when I was a scarlet girl, and I’ll tell you: you Christians are right about things between men and women. Sex.” The woman nodded sagaciously. “Wicked, that’s what it is. It’s disgusting. No, you have it right. None of that for you. You stay above and beyond the men. You can still get what you want. You be a snow maiden, and they’ll serve you like a queen so long as they believe you’re above it all.” She nodded. “Stay untouchable. Never give yourself away. That’s how it’s done.”
But sex isn’t wicked, in and of itself, the girl mentally objected, but the old woman was drawing something out of her bag. “See? I made a poem about it for you.” It was a silver hair comb, and affixed to the top was a silver star flower, made of rhinestones, obviously an antique.
“I can’t buy anything,” the girl said regretfully. “I shouldn’t, it’s—”
“It’s a gift,” the old woman said, putting it into her hand.
The girl blinked, and thought to herself swiftly, but I need something for my hair.
Carefully she combed back the side of her hair that had been flopping over her face all morning, and pushed the comb in. It held her hair perfectly. Wishing again she had a mirror, she put up her hand to feel it.
“That’s right,” the old lady said. “Never say old Bonnie never gave you anything.” She drew something else out of her bag. “Here. Smell this.”
It was a perfume bottle of a clear liquid. Taking off the stopper, she smelled it, and felt a blast of cold, chilly air sweep through her until her breath froze inside her. The stars shone over her in a black, still night.
II
After Brother Jim had seen the whole friary, he took his leave, saying that he had a lunch meeting. For the first time, he seemed to notice Leon.
“Oh, it’s you. Didn’t recognize you at first with the beard and haircut. Still here?” he said in feigned surprise.
Leon nodded. “Sure am. How’s the chancery?”
“So busy, as you can imagine. It’s been nonstop since I was hired,” Brother Jim said. “How’s your novitiate going?”
“Pretty good,” Leon said. “I’m happy to be here.”
“So far,” Brother Jim said with a small smile. “Well, I’ve stayed long enough. Stay cool, you guys! And keep your burglar alarms on!” He chuckled as he walked down the steps to his car, and walked around it carefully before he got inside and turned on the engine.
“Making sure he still has all his hubcaps,” Father Francis muttered. “Bernard, I’m not at all sorry we left.”
The novice master shook his head. “God have mercy on him.”
“Working at the chancery…Thank God he’s not a priest or I’d be afraid someone would make him a bishop,” Father Francis said as he shut the door.
“It won’t happen,” Father Bernard predicted with confidence. “They’ll make you one first.”
“Ha!” Father Francis snorted.
Leon went to the chapel to recollect himself for a few moments. Oddly enough, as he prayed for Brother Jim and the Franciscan order, Nora kept on coming to mind. As usual, he tried to turn his distractions into prayers, but the sense kept nagging at him that something was wrong. He finally looked up and saw that she wasn’t in the church. He couldn’t hear any sounds from the vestibule, or from the sacristy, where he had last seen her.
He got to his feet, reproaching himself. Are you sure she’s not on your mind because you’re becoming too attached to her? But despite his inner rebuke, he went to the vestibule anyway.
No sign of her. Frowning, he went to the sacristy, opened the back door of the church and looked out into the courtyard. It was deserted, but he saw a figure hurrying away down the alley. A figure in a blue ski cap.
He remembered the last time he had seen Bonnie—and beside her, Nora lying unconscious on the vestibule floor. Now concerned, he dashed back to the friary and called the others.
“What’s up?” Matt was the first to appear, with Charley behind him, trailed by the dogs.
“Anyone know where Nora is?”
“Haven’t seen her. Is she back in her room?”
“Haven’t checked there yet. Charley, see if she’s in the basement,” Leon sprinted across the courtyard with Matt following and banged on the door. “Nora! Are you in there?” he called.
There was no answer. “It’s locked,” Matt said, pulling at the handle.
“I’ll go get the keys,” Leon said, and ran back inside the friary.
He quickly located Brother Herman talking with the Fathers and asked for the keys. Brother Herman followed him out to the high school. The dogs were running around the courtyard, barking. When Brother Leon opened the door to the high school, the dogs dashed inside and went straight to Nora’s room, pushing open the door as they went.
Leon stepped inside, saying, “Nora?” He noticed the clothes in her crate were scattered on the floor in front of the door. At once, he saw her on the bed. The dogs were nosing her hand. He might have thought she was sleeping, but her face was oddly still. One of her hands slid over the side of the bed and dangled there.
“Is she okay?” Brother Herman pushed past him. He felt her forehead. “She’s out cold.”
Bonnie. Leon tore outside, the dogs at his heels.
He ran down the alleyway where he had seen the old woman disappearing, and, reaching the sidewalk, looked up and down the street. The dogs ran in circles, their noses to the ground.
“Come on, you dumb dogs, be useful,” he begged them. At last one of them perked up his ears and ran off to the right, followed by the other. Praying this was an actual trail and not a distracting piece of meat, he hurried after them.
Looking in both directions, he saw a lady sitting on her stoop, with her grandchildren playing on the sidewalk. “Hey, Mrs. Santos, you seen Bonnie? That old lady with the blue hat.”
The lady nodded and pointed. “She was going that way. Towards the train.”
Leon thanked her and jogged on, the dogs loping beside him. Across a vacant lot, a side street, a median strip littered with cans. Beneath the massive iron trunks of the el train, he hurried through the criss-cross of shadows. Then far ahead, he saw a figure in a blue hat climbing the tall steps to the train. There was no mistaking her.
Double-timing his pace, he crossed the street just in front of several oncoming cars, rounded the corner, and banged his way up the metal steps. His heart was pounding as he reached the turnstiles blocking his way, and he realized he didn’t have a token, or any money.
Quickly he turned around and saw a group of black teenagers climbing up the steps behind him. He put out his hand. “Can anyone give me the fare for the subway?” he asked.
His ears reddened. When he was in the old order, money had almost always been provided. Here, it was different.
The teenagers stared at him, in his medieval gray robe and rope belt. Again he repeated politely, “Please. Could any one of you give me the fare for the subway, for the love of God?”
Several of them passed, giving him wide berth, but one kid dug in his pocket and tossed him a token. “Thank you!” Leon said gratefully. “God bless you.” An el train clattered and roared as it came into the station beyond them. The dogs drew back in deference, but Leon hurried to the platform.
As he pushed his way through the turnstile, he murmured prayers for his unexpected benefactor and looked around. There was no sign of Bonnie.
The train hissed impatiently, and feeling the prompt of his guardian angel, he got on and grabbed onto one of the poles as the doors slammed shut.
The teenagers were on this car, and they looked at him quizzically as he scanned around, looking for Bonnie.
“Are you some kinda priest?” one of them said at last.
“No, I’m a Franciscan brother,” he said, putting aside his quest for the moment. “Thanks for the help,” he said.
“No problem,” said the boy who had helped
him. “Do you like, beg for a living?”
“In our community, we take a vow of poverty,” he said. “We only live on what others give us.”
The kids were curious, and Leon answered their questions and tried not to be distracted. When the train roared to a stop, he stepped out of the train and watched to see who got out. No one resembling Bonnie did, so he figured he should keep on riding.
III
Mr. Carnazzo stopped in front of Bear and Fish and scrutinized them distrustfully. “I’m sorry, but as manager of this establishment, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” he said stiffly.
Bear stared at the manager. “We’re just—” he said. Fish put up his hand and stepped forward authoritatively, cutting his brother off.
“Leave?” he repeated. “Isn’t this hall available?” he asked, pulling out an appointment calendar. “I’m interested in renting your facility for an event I’m having.”
“What kind of an event?” the manager said suspiciously.
Bear looked at Rose. “A wedding,” he blurted. Rose, immediately picking up the cue, moved closer to Fish and took his arm possessively.
“Yes, that’s right, a wedding,” Fish gritted his teeth in a smile at his brother. “So can I rent this place? We were just looking it over and it seems adequate.”
“Well—” The manager hedged. “I’ll have to check with someone first.”
Fish heaved a deep sigh, took Rose by the arm, and flipped open his calendar. “The date’s December eighteenth, and I want the best hall you have to offer. How about the one downstairs with the drippy things on the chandelier?” He started to trail the manager, who was retreating in the direction he had come.
“But honey, are you sure it’s big enough?” Rose queried, putting on her sunglasses. “We have five hundred guests coming.”
“Five hundred? Who said we were inviting your side of the family?” Fish glanced over his shoulder at Bear and grimaced, meaning, “Hurry up and look. I can’t keep this up forever.”
Bear looked back at Rita. “Better show me that room quick.”
Stifling a grin, Rita opened a side door and led him down a twisting narrow hallway lined with doors. “This is where Blanche and I were working the night of the masquerade. They had us tying ribbons on balloons in one of the back rooms. We left our stuff on the floor near where we were working. That’s where they found the drugs too.”
She opened a door to a small low-ceilinged room. The room was carpeted in a dark pattern. Inside were a worktable and several banquet chairs that were in disrepair—one was missing a back, another tilted crazily to one side. A cheap oil painting with a big gash in it leaned against one wall.
“What happened to that?” Bear asked curiously.
“Someone put their fist through it at our last event,” Rita said dismissively. “That masquerade ball for Mirror Corp was a really wild party. Those people get out of hand sometimes. If you ask me, some of them are doing drugs.”
Bear looked around further. A pot with cigarette butts lying in it stood in one corner near the window. Small pieces of black and silver ribbon still littered the ground. Bear saw something gleaming on the ground beneath the table near the wall: a pair of shiny silver-colored scissors. He stooped to pick them up.
“We were using those to cut the ribbons for the balloons,” Rita said. “That one must have gotten left behind.”
The scissors were heavy, and sharp. Then he noticed something else on the floor, almost invisible in the shadows, and picked up a few.
“What’s that?” Rita asked.
“It looks like hair,” he said. A few other shorter strands lay strewn about.
“Freaky,” Rita breathed. “Blanche’s hair?”
“That’s what I’m guessing,” he said. Yes, the strands were long enough. An eerie feeling came over him.
Assunta came inside furtively and closed the door. “Find anything?”
“A bit,” Rita said. She explained to Assunta while Bear looked around the room further, aware that he didn’t have much time.
There were two windows in the room. An air conditioner unit blocked one window, but the other was slightly open.
Bear crossed to the window and put a hand on the sash. It moved up and down easily. He pushed the window open and looked outside. They were on the second floor of the building. The heavy branch of an oak tree hung outside the window, providing some needed cool shade on the building.
“Anyone could climb up the tree to get to this window,” he observed.
“Or get out the window and climb down,” Rita pointed out. She smiled. “I think it’s been known to happen. Girls on shift sometimes have their boyfriends meet them here and do the Romeo-and-Juliet thing.”
Bear paused, staring out at the waving green leaves. The riddles forming in his mind were still incomprehensible to him.
Through the leaves, he saw a figure standing on the far side of the street, smoking. A big man in a black jacket, wearing sunglasses.
He motioned to the waitress. “Assunta,” he said. “Is that the man?”
Assunta squinted out the window at the man. “Yes. That’s him,” she said positively. “I recognize the nose. He’s the one I saw in the hallway the night of the party.”
“No mistake then,” Bear said grimly, putting a leg out of the window. “I’ve had enough of it.”
“Are you going after him?” Rita gasped.
“Only thing I can do at this point to find out who he is.” He grabbed the tree branch easily—he could almost crawl onto it—and looked back at the two waitresses. “Can you find my brother and tell him where I’ve gone?”
“Sure,” Assunta said, and Rita nodded.
“Tell him I’ll be in touch by cell phone. Thanks for showing me around, Rita.”
“No prob. Man, you’re a babe.”
Shaking his head, he shimmied down rapidly. Once he reached a good height, he dropped to the ground and started to approach the man.
The man saw Bear coming, and paused for a moment to put out his cigarette. Tossing it into a trashcan, he turned and walked away. Now that he knows I’ve seen him, he’s going to try to disappear, Bear thought. But I can’t let him go. He turned back, as though he were returning to the banquet hall, but once the man had gone around a corner, he retraced his steps and started following him.
Bear had shadowed people before, and was familiar with the method. As he followed the man, he kept out of sight as much as he could, without drawing attention to himself. The man walked for several blocks and reached the train station on the Long Island Railroad. Bear had to stop to buy a ticket, but the man apparently had one. He walked right through the turnstiles onto the platform and waited for a train to come. Fortunately, Bear joined the crowd on the platform and hooked his sight on the man before the next train arrived.
The train took him to Penn Station in Times Square. Once they reached Penn Station, the man got off immediately, and Bear kept tailing him as the man bought a paper, then abruptly hurried to the shuttle train to Grand Central. Knowing that the shuttle had only one destination, Bear felt confident enough to let him out of sight.
When the shuttle halted in Grand Central, Bear made sure he was the first one out of the cab and sat down on a bench to watch the rest of the passengers emerge. The man got off last, and headed into Grand Central. Eyes fixed on his quarry, Bear followed, praying that this chance would work out in his favor.
Chapter Sixteen
She woke up to find Father Francis taking her pulse and feeling her forehead.
“What happened?” she asked weakly.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to tell us that,” Father Francis said wryly. “We just got in here and you were passed out on the bed. Is your heart bothering you again?”
There was a thick, sour taste in her mouth. “I don’t think so,” she said feebly. “I think she gave me—ether or something.”
“Who?”
“Bonnie. She was here again. It was my fault—
I let her in. She asked me to smell some perfume, and…”
“…And that’s the last thing you remember,” Father Francis said, shaking his head. She could see the other friars standing in the door to her room. Charley, Matt, Father Bernard, and the cross one, Brother George. Brother Herman was sitting at the foot of her bed.
“Where’s the perfume?” George asked with some skepticism, looking around. But it seemed to have vanished.
“I think she took it with her,” the girl said, feeling a bit fuzzy, as though she had imagined the whole thing.
“What color was it? Did it smell sweet?”
“Clear, and I think it was sweet, at first.”
“Chloroform,” George muttered.
“Nora,” Father Francis said quietly. “Was this another random attack, do you think?”
She shook her head.
“Do you know why Bonnie would be targeting you?”
Aside from the fact that everyone malicious seems to be after me, no, she almost said. “Please,” she said faintly. “Please let me think about it a little more before I tell you anything.”
Father Francis kept his keen gaze upon her. “You need some rest,” he said at last and got to his feet. He looked around the room. “Did she take anything?”
“Seems to me like she was looking for something,” Brother Herman said, looking at the crate of the girl’s clothing, whose contents were scattered and disheveled.
The girl put her hand to her hair, but the antique star comb was gone. Of course. Fingerprints. Her gaze traveled around the ransacked room. “I can’t imagine what she would have taken,” she managed to say. “I’ll look over everything later.”
“Fair enough.” Father Francis put a hand on her head. “Thank God you’re all right.” He prayed a short prayer for healing and all the friars joined in the Hail Mary at the end. She prayed with them.
“Thank you,” she said, grateful for the prayer and grateful that they were letting her be.