Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial)

by Leigh Ellwood

  Ronnie and Lew followed his gaze to see Nana emerge from the passenger side door after a few choice words with the driver, whom Ronnie recognized as one of the old women gaping at the bomb squad on the Algers’ front lawn. All three stood in stunned silence as the old woman stormed up the path and paused at the other end of the screen door.

  “May I come in?” she asked nobody in particular.

  “Miss Julie, what are—” Lew did not finish the question but instead held the screen door open for Nana without asking Ethan’s permission. He glared hard at Ronnie, who met his gaze with one of innocence.

  “Gina called me and said you would be here,” Nana explained to her granddaughter. She crooked her neck back toward the car. “You remember my neighbor, Mrs. Kleffner, she drove me here. We won’t stay long.”

  “Why leave so soon?” Ethan gestured grandly about the foyer, his voice dripping with acid. “Invite Mrs. Kleffner inside. Invite all of your friends! I’ll make tea and bring out the coffee cake.” He stomped into the living room and slumped onto his sofa. Nana’s footsteps were silent against the hardwood floor as she crept up behind him. She idly straightened the multi-colored afghan draped over the sofa’s back.

  “Ethan, this isn’t a laughing matter,” she said calmly, her head down. Ronnie approached silently behind Lew, marveling at her grandmother’s sudden demure behavior. Normally the old woman was straightforward and firm in such situations; Nana never took any guff from anyone.

  “I know how you feel about my family and my church,” Nana said, “and you’re entitled to your opinions. But it means a lot to me to see Lorena back in her grave, and I imagine that if it were your sainted mother who was stolen you would want the same thing. So if you know anything about this case, please say so. I promise I won’t press any charges.”

  “Julia,” Ethan sighed in resignation, but Lew cut him off.

  “Now, Miss Julie, I wouldn’t make any promises like that—”

  “Julia, I promise you, I have no involvement whatsoever in any of this.” Ethan was exhausted. “I did not kill Paul Dix, I did not dig up your late husband’s aunt, and I most certainly did not hire anyone to commit these heinous acts for the purpose of causing you and yours any heartache. Julia,” his hand came to rest momentarily on hers, “you know me better than that.”

  Ronnie watched the exchange, completely befuddled with her grandmother’s demeanor. Here was a man who frequently penned newsletters and other missives detailing the Algers’ eventual descent into Hell, and Nana was actually smiling at him! Just how well did she know Ethan Fontaine?

  Ethan caught Ronnie’s eye and glanced upward at the older woman. “She doesn’t know, does she, Julia?”

  “Know what?” Ronnie asked. Lew took a seat in Ethan’s rocking chair and leaned forward to hear more.

  “That I am really a convert to the Catholic Faith,” Nana revealed. “That many, many years ago I once was a member of Ethan’s church, and that once upon a time we were more than fellow parishioners.”

  “You mean...” Ronnie let her thoughts dissolve into silence. Nana and Ethan Fontaine were an item? Lovers, even? The mere thought made her stomach churn. “What do you mean, Nana, you used to think like him? The Church was the Whore of Babylon and all that jazz, you actually believed that?”

  “Is,” insisted Ethan.

  “Shut up.”

  “Ronnie!” Nana warned, to which Ethan heartily asserted.

  “That’s right,” he said. “If not for your grandmother’s weak state of faith, you and that catty sister of yours would never have existed and this woman would have been known as Mrs. Ethan Fontaine for the last fifty-six years.”

  “Ethan, please.” Nana hushed him.

  “Wait a minute,” Lew broke in. “What does that have to do—”

  “What happened?” Ronnie interrupted him, all thoughts of Lorena and the Dennis brothers suspended.

  Nana rounded the sofa and perched on the end opposite Ethan, still not facing him. “Your grandfather, that’s what happened. Some members of our church had set up a table in front of Holy Family, which is where the Algers attended Mass before Blessed Lorena’s was built, hoping to win the Catholics to Christ.” She bent her fingers in quote marks as she spoke. “I passed out tracts at one Mass as people left and was asked politely by your grandfather to leave.”

  Ethan visibly grew uncomfortable and shifted his attention to the far window, as if looking for something less painful. For a fleeting moment Ronnie felt sorry for the old man.

  “We got into an argument right there in front of the church,” Nana continued, “and Stephen asked me to coffee to explain the Catholic position. I went, thinking I could convince him otherwise. I think you know what happened next.” The old woman’s smile was faint.

  “We do. Thank you so much for the memories,” Ethan said blandly, all hints of compassion gone.

  Lew rocked back in the chair, a thoughtful look on his face. “An interesting story, Miss Julie, but how does this relate to anything going on now?”

  “It relates because Ethan says he has done nothing wrong and I believe him.” Miss Julie stood to leave. “I believe we’re wasting our time and his by staying here. I imagine Mrs. Kleffner is growing somewhat impatient as well.”

  Ronnie was not as willing as her grandmother to drop the issue. Gloria’s sobbing and incoherent apologies still rang in her ears; Ethan had to have been planning something vicious, she thought, and speculated as much aloud.

  “You want to know what I had planned for the Lorena Alger Festival?” Ethan cried. “I’ll show you what I had planned.” With that, he barreled down a dim hallway to his bedroom, leaving the Alger women and the sheriff to glance awkwardly at each other until he returned. Ethan’s arms were laden with thick reams of colorful paper.

  “Here!” Printed flyers spilled on the floor as Ethan released the bulk of the paper on his oak coffee table. “My latest newsletter, along with a few pertinent Scriptural quotes. Gloria Hathaway used the copy machine at her workplace and I hired a man to fly overhead on the day of the festival. We were going to dump these from the sky, and rain the Good News on your parade.”

  Ronnie glanced over a tract printed on lemon yellow paper; the pap was no different from what Ethan had attempted to send her via e-mail. Disgusted, she crumpled it into a ball, too tired to rebut the man’s anti-Catholic accusations. “Goodbye, Mr. Fontaine,” she sighed. It was the closest to an apology she could come.

  Nana, following her granddaughter toward the exit, was stilled by a plea from Ethan. “Julia,” he called to her, “you do know I would never go that far. I would never cause harm to another human being.”

  Nana turned back slowly and scanned the sliding avalanche of flyers, then met Ethan’s compassionate gaze. Quietly she nodded and continued walking, leaving Lew to exchange goodbyes on everybody’s behalf.

  Outside, Ronnie shooed a petulant Mrs. Kleffner away, assuring the old woman that she would ferry her grandmother home. Mrs. Kleffner, wide-eyed and head bobbing, looked to her friend for confirmation.

  “Go on, Gladys,” Nana said warmly. “I’ll call you later.”

  Her demeanor cooled once the Cadillac backed away from the curb and wobbled out of sight. “Veronica Therese Lord,” she admonished, “there was no reason to be so brusque with Mrs. Kleffner. She did me a tremendous favor driving me here.”

  “Believe me, I would have loved to say a lot more. Did you see how thick her glasses were? She’s got to be legally blind, and you let her drive you here?” Ronnie inspected the left rear bumper of her car; there were no scratches or dents, but Ronnie doubted the aged Mrs. Kleffner would park as perfectly next time.

  “People get old, Ronnie, and she’s a safe driver,” Nana said. “I wouldn’t be so quick to judge, either. Your mother’s side of the family has quite a history of vision problems.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Though she and Gina had been blessed with 20/20 vision, Ronnie’s mother and brother wore glasse
s, and it appeared Ian would be next.

  Ronnie looked up at Ethan Fontaine’s modest one-story house. “You were really engaged to that old coot, huh?”

  Nana shrugged off the derogatory remark. “Ethan wasn’t an old coot fifty-six years ago, he was handsome and intelligent and very charismatic. In fact, I still think he is.” She bowed her head and strolled around the front of the car toward the passenger side door. “And yes, I did love him, and he loved me. Despite my defection to ‘the dark side,’ as he would say,” she added, twisting her face into a frown, “I know he wouldn’t pull a stunt like this to spite me.”

  Ronnie leaned against the driver side door, twirling her keys. “You say he loved you. You don’t think he still does?”

  “Ronnie, that was years ago.” Nana was shocked. “I’m sure he’s gotten over it, he’s had plenty of time.”

  “He never did marry,” Ronnie prodded. “I know because Loni told me, and she knows everything about everybody.”

  “So what? Some people never marry. Look at me, your grandfather died decades ago. I could have married again but I chose not to.”

  “Waiting on a certain Sunday fundy silver fox?” As much as the idea of Nana hooking up with Ethan Fontaine repulsed her, Ronnie had to admit that she was enjoying teasing her grandmother.

  “You know, I was going to ask you to take me home, but since you’re behaving like such an ass I’ll accept lunch at the deli as an apology.” Nana pumped the door handle. “Now unlock this damn door.”

  Ronnie laughed out loud. “All right, all right. Just a sec.” She glanced back at the house; Lew had yet to emerge, and neither he nor Ethan could be seen in the screen door. Perhaps the old man was laying on hands, trying to cast away Lew’s demons? No reason to stick around, she thought. The sheriff could take care of himself.

  The key was in the lock when a red Volkswagen Beetle puttered around the corner toward them. Nana pressed herself closer to the Firebird to allow the car to pass along the narrow street, but Ronnie insisted she get in the car immediately.

  “Why? Why are you being so vehement all of a sudden?”

  “Just do it, okay?” Ronnie cried through clenched teeth. “I’ll be back in a sec.” She hit the power locks and stomped over to the Beetle as it slowed behind her car and the driver side rolled down to reveal its owner.

  Chet Hoskins hung an elbow over the side and shifted to park with the motor still running. “Professor Lord,” he greeted her jovially, “Care to comment on the Dennis brothers’ alleged involvement in Lorena’s disappearance?”

  “The only comments I care to make can’t be printed in your paper,” Ronnie growled. “How the hell did you know to come here?”

  Chet grinned and tapped his right temple. “Reporter’s instincts, my fair lady. I got the nose for news, and when the scent is strong I can’t help but follow.”

  Ronnie felt the skin on the back of her neck crawl. With a nose like that, Chet Hoskins could likely sniff the air out of the tri-county area as well, but she kept that comment to herself. Who knew what else the man would have printed?

  “Anyway, if you’re not willing to talk, I’ll simply find somebody who will. There’s no shortage of sources in this gossipy town.” Chet yanked the gearshift into reverse and the Beetle rolled backward. “Oh, by the way,” he added, ducking deeper into the cab, “here’s some light reading for you.”

  Ronnie took the latest issue of the Jacksonville Journal and clamped it under her arm. “Thanks. We were low on toilet paper back home.”

  Lew exited Ethan’s house just as Chet executed an awkward three-point turn and drove away. Any intention of asking Ronnie what had transpired was silenced by the hardened frown on the woman’s face.

  “Did you tell anybody you were coming here?”

  “Dispatch, of course,” Lew said. “They have to know where I am.”

  Ronnie sighed. That meant anybody with a police scanner knew Lew’s business. “You need to make a more concerted effort to check the department for leaks. Either that or Chet Hoskins has taken up the CB as a hobby,” she said as she stormed back to her car. The drive to the deli was tense and silent.

  ~ * ~

  “Is Lew not going to join us?” Nana settled a thin paper napkin in her lap and thanked Loni for her iced tea.

  “Guess not.” Ronnie glanced at the storefront window. There was no sign of the cruiser anywhere. Lew likely would not have wanted to join them anyway, given her brusque exit. She reminded herself to apologize when she saw him next, and that was likely to happen before the concert on Friday.

  Friday. By Friday an entire week will have passed since two tourists from Tarpon Springs discovered Lorena Alger’s grave occupied by somebody else. The sheriff’s department was nowhere close to finding a suspect, it seemed. True, there were leads in the elusive Dennis brothers and the mystery man from the Wild Rooster clouding Jeanette Holley’s memory, but until these people surfaced Lew and his men had nothing.

  “Nana, I need to know: when Gina called to tell you about Ethan, where were you?”

  Nana pinched a lemon wedge into her tea glass. “The canonization committee was meeting at the rectory this morning after Mass. Mrs. Kleffner picked me up for the service and we both stayed, intending to stay for lunch. Father Joel’s aunt was catering.”

  “Okay, aside from you, Mrs. Kleffner, and Father Joel, who else was within earshot when Gina called?” Ronnie grabbed a pen and poised it over her napkin.

  “Well, let me think. There were so many people wandering around. I took the call in the kitchen, so Mrs. Mitchell was close by preparing finger sandwiches.” The old woman tapped her chin. “I distinctly recall Martin Diehl coming in for a glass of water so he could take his pills, so he might have overheard.”

  Nana continued to rattle off names, many of which Ronnie recognized as parents of former schoolmates or parish mainstays, people who looked old to her when she was little. Unfortunately, many were only nodding acquaintances and Ronnie had no idea how to find out if any were slipping information to Chet Hoskins.

  “Do you know if any of these people might have connections with the newspaper?” Ronnie asked her grandmother. “Maybe one of the kids works there and has been helping Chet leak the information?”

  Nana slowly shook her head. “No, not that I know of. Martin’s son Ben is a dentist now. He has offices here and in Fernandina. Maybe this Chet is a patient?”

  Ronnie shrugged. It was a long shot, but much closer than anything else they had. “Next time you guys meet could you mention that Lew doesn’t want any more news revealed? Maybe if you mention that the case against whomever killed Paul Dix could be tainted those stories will dry up, if the leak’s coming from that end.”

  Loni arrived with their salads and staved off a sudden look from Ronnie. “Now, I ain’t said nothing this time,” she assured Ronnie. “I may gossip but I wouldn’t do nothing that could prevent you getting Lorena’s body back.” She dashed back into the kitchen before Ronnie could ask the deli owner if she knew of anyone who would prevent such a thing.

  Ronnie drowned her salad with a packet of French dressing. She did not suspect Loni at all, as much as the restaurateur’s tongue wagged. Though she was not related to the family, Loni also had a quite a bit at stake in Lorena’s safe return and canonization. Already space was being made in one corner of the restaurant to accommodate a plethora of Saint Lorena merchandise, plus a specially named sandwich was in the works. How the angels must be rejoicing, Ronnie thought.

  “I’ll put the word out, don’t you worry.” Nana said, “but I don’t think any of them are guilty. Everybody on the committee’s so sincere and serious about seeing this canonization through.”

  “Could be somebody thinks the publicity would be good.” Ronnie stabbed at a crouton. “What do you want to do after lunch?”

  “I’d like to go home to check my mail, if you don’t mind. You’re welcome to stay for dinner if you don’t have plans. Arthur is working late again to
night.”

  “Again?” Ronnie raised an eyebrow. “Do people sign out insurance policies at night?”

  Nana’s smile was mischievous. “I don’t think it’s insurance he’s working on, I’ve told you before.”

  “Has he let up on the reward deal?”

  “No, and it’s really ticking me off,” the old woman huffed. “I don’t see what the big deal is taking out five thousand dollars. It’s not like we’re two days from being homeless. The house is paid for, and so is the car. I really have no outstanding debts, and I try to pay credit cards regularly...”

  “How are Arthur’s bills?” Ronnie asked. “Has he been spending outrageous sums of money, perhaps on this mystery lady you’re so certain exists?”