“Like what happened at the house last year,” Nana sighed. “All those young men rappelling from helicopters. The kids in the neighborhood still love to play bomb squad at Miss Julie’s on the weekends.”
Ronnie had to laugh out loud at that memory, when the simple ransom package of Lorena’s severed yet preserved finger launched a bomb scare, the first known in Ash Lake’s history.
One glance at a stone-faced Gina, however, dissolved the rest of the laughter bubbling in her throat. She knew Gina found nothing funny about the incidents surrounding the disappearance of Lorena’s body last year. To be sure, it was not a laughing matter. The maintenance man at the cemetery where Lorena had previously been laid to rest had been murdered, and Ronnie put her own life in danger during an attempt to trap the culprit.
Ronnie had hoped one day the family would be able to look back on the events without bitterness, though considering the family connection involved, she knew now not enough time had elapsed.
“Will Uncle Arthur be granted permission to go to Miami?” Gina asked, as if reading Ronnie’s mind.
Great, Ronnie thought. This topic of conversation was never pleasant. Last year, Nana’s bachelor son had hired two young hoodlums to rob Lorena’s grave for a hefty ransom to pay off his debts, a crime unrelated to the murder. Of the family, only Gina had yet to forgive him.
Quickly Ronnie countered with her own question. “Either of you heard anything new about Allayne Witt’s condition? Rumor has it she’s not doing so well.”
To Ronnie’s consternation, Nana acted as if she had not heard the latter question. “No,” she answered sadly. “I’ve had Father Joel and Lew appeal to the circuit judge, but we keep getting denied.” Nana stood from her box and paced the length of the Berber carpet, her thick, low heels thumping down hard with each step. “I encouraged Father to appeal to the state Supreme Court, but Arthur appears to have lost interest in the whole thing. He’s convinced he won’t be able to go.”
“Shame,” Ronnie murmured. “I don’t doubt he’d have caused anymore trouble. If it’s a matter of surveillance, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of security there—”
“I don’t think that’s the point the judge was trying to make, Ron,” Gina was suddenly haughty. “Uncle Arthur committed a crime, and was sentenced to a lengthy house arrest. Just because he’s a descendant of Lorena’s doesn’t mean he should get any more special treatment. This canonization almost didn’t happen because of him.”
“Lorena would have been canonized regardless of whether or not there was a physical body available for viewing. It’s been done before,” Ronnie countered wearily. “Her soul being in Heaven is what matters, and I wish you’d forgive Arthur like everybody else has. He’s family, a grown man, and you treat him as if you’re grounding Ian or Elliott from going to Disney World.”
“A man died because of his actions!” Gina exploded. For one second the mug in her hands was forgotten as a wild gesture sent a stream of lukewarm coffee splattering on the movie poster. A long trail of light brown liquid slid down Kevin Kline’s face. “How can I forgive that? How can I forgive him for nearly bankrupting his own mother, which eventually led to the whole kidnapping and murder mess?”
“A man died because somebody murdered him. Paul Dix was hired by his killer to kidnap Lorena, too, remember? Arthur had nothing to do with that,” Nana reminded her granddaughter. “The person who murdered Paul is now serving a life sentence for that murder. What Arthur did was unspeakable, yes, but he has accepted his punishment and is making amends, Gina.” The old woman’s face softened. “I’ve forgiven him, as have those in the church, and I’m sure our Lorena is praying for him this very minute.”
She reached forward and laid a thin, but strong, hand on Gina’s shoulder. Gina did not flinch. “Remember your Bible, Gina. King David, so infatuated with Bathsheba, arranged for her husband to die so he could have her to himself. He knew his mistakes, and so does Arthur. And like King David, he is working to make everything right.”
“I know,” Gina whined.
“Arthur hasn’t seen his grandnephews in months, Gina.”
This revelation shocked Ronnie. Despite her offer to give Nana the downstairs bedroom of her new townhouse, Nana chose to remain in her house with Arthur. Somehow the two of them had managed to keep the bank from foreclosing on the property, and Arthur’s new found success as a freelance writer brought in enough money to pay the bills. Apparently a number of magazines found his notoriety to be an asset as opposed to a liability. Arthur took the success in stride. “It works for sitcom stars,” he had told Ronnie during her last visit.
Surely Gina had been taking the boys to see their great-grandmother? Surely Gina was not forcing Nana to arrange clandestine meetings in public places. Nana did not drive, and Ronnie had not been asked to ferry her anywhere recently.
Ronnie opened her mouth then quickly pressed her lips shut. Better not to delve any further. She had agitated Gina enough for one day.
Her gaze drifted over to her grandmother, and she noticed that the normally calm woman was now casting nervous glances down at her thin-strapped silver watch.
“Do you have to be somewhere, Nana?” Ronnie asked, now concerned. Had they missed an appointment at the doctor’s office?
Nana’s head darted quickly upward and she idly straightened the clasp of her bead necklace. “Oh, no, dear. I was just wondering what’s been keeping Father Joel. He was going to give me a lift back to the church for this afternoon’s Rosary Guild meeting.”
“In that smelly old truck?” Gina’s face wrinkled. “Why didn’t you say something earlier, Nana? I’ll take you there right now if you want. I’m sure Ronnie can hold the fort until I get back.”
“It’s no big deal, really,” Nana insisted, escaping into the kitchen. Ronnie and Gina could only stare quizzically at each other as their grandmother’s voice called to them over the rush of the sink faucet.
“Besides, you’ll need to pick up the boys later, and the soccer fields are on the other side of town, dear. You don’t need to be running all over the place for my benefit.”
Gina threw her sister a withering look. “Ash Lake is the size of the Gateway price club building, Nana,” she protested, her voice lowering as Nana returned to the living room to paw through another box. “It’s not like we’d have to drive you all the way to St. Augustine.”
“Ronnie, shouldn’t this go in the bathroom?” Nana produced a toilet brush and ceramic cow-shaped holder, a gift from a relative of Jim’s who had the idea that the Lords nurtured a cow fetish.
Ronnie shook her head. Alger women were inherently stubborn, and she knew if she did not say anything Gina and Nana would be carping at each other for the rest of their stay. “Actually, Nana, Father Joel will be taking that box of stuff with him, for the thrift shop. Oh, there he is now.”
The distant rumble of a diesel engine penetrated Ronnie’s thoughts, and within seconds three curious faces filled the living room window as a large white panel truck bobbled around a corner and into the driveway behind Ronnie’s Firebird. Three male heads poked up from behind the dashboard. Ronnie instantly recognized Father Joel at the wheel, his dark brown hair concealed by a Jacksonville Jaguars baseball cap. The boy leaning against the passenger side window, with the shock of jet-black hair and matching wrap-around sunglasses, was unfamiliar. Probably somebody sent to the church ministry to fulfill some kind of community service. Father found most of his helpers that way.
The young man sandwiched between the two, however, did look familiar. That became more apparent as the passenger side door opened and a lanky, tall boy wearing a muscle T-shirt and tight black jeans spilled out onto the sidewalk behind Jet Black. The boy raked thick, blond bangs from his face and squinted into the sun.
A soft gasp from Gina told Ronnie that she, too, recognized Landon Dennis, one of the pair hired by Arthur to steal Lorena’s body the previous year.
Chapter Two
Gina was out of the
house and nearly touching noses with the startled priest before Ronnie could tell her sister to calm down. Instead she and Nana were forced to follow her onto the small patch of grass that served as Ronnie’s new front lawn. Half-moon shaped stones bordered the small rectangular area, which Ronnie immediately noticed had already been befouled by a neighboring dog.
“Hell,” she muttered as she nearly missed stepping squarely into the mound of stinky brown glop. “Gina, would you leave the poor man alone? They’re just delivering a couch!”
Father Joel appeared pale and ready to shrink into the side of the truck as Gina admonished him. “This is the boy who dug up Lorena’s coffin and cut off her finger for ransom!” she shrieked. “How could you possibly allow him to work at the church?”
“I don’t think he’s going to try to steal her again, Gina,” Ronnie said pointedly, risking a glance at the now frightened Landon Dennis. Jet Black, meanwhile, was leaning against the extended driver side mirror and watching the exchange with some amusement. Ronnie could sense whatever respect Father Joel had earned from the boy dissolve with every second Gina’s mouth stayed open wide. Quickly she rounded the front of the truck and gestured toward her open front door.
“The couch goes into the living room, guys,” she told Landon and Jet Black. “My grandmother will show you where to put it, okay? Nana?”
Startled to attention at the mention of her name, Nana turned and greeted the priest’s helpers with a gracious smile. “Of course, just bring it inside the living room,” she said, and backpedaled into the townhouse as Jet Black shrugged and loped to the back of the truck.
“I got sodas in the fridge when you’re done. I know Father’s had you guys delivering stuff all morning,” Ronnie added, then turned to leave when the faint flicker of a smile upturned Landon’s lips. He appeared ready to speak, but as if in afterthought he turned a heel and joined his friend.
“Gina, I can assure you nothing is amiss here,” Father Joel was saying as Ronnie joined the two. Father cast a worried glance behind his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Landon was assigned to fulfill his community service at the church in retribution for his crime, and if you ask me, it’s done him a world of good. The boy has changed, and it’s not an act.”
Gina folded her arms and scowled. “I can’t believe you’re letting that boy into your house, giving him sodas,” she hissed at Ronnie. “After all the pain he caused us.”
“Lay off, Gina. At worst, the boy is just stupid, not evil.” Ronnie, too, kept her voice low as Jet Black came into view on the other side of the truck, holding high one end of a plush green sofa by the curled arm. He appeared to be chatting with Landon in between grunts, and both looked too involved in their work to care what the sisters were saying. Ronnie relaxed a bit.
“How would you say working at the church has changed him?” Ronnie directed this at the priest, who shifted in place and plunged his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans.
“If you ask me, just being at the church puts him into contact with a better class of people, and it’s rubbing off on him. We’ve had him working the thrift shop and building maintenance… the first week he acted so timidly because people were being nice to him, probably for a change. Sometimes he stays later than needed,” he said. “I’ve heard nothing but praise from his parole officer, and he’s actually considering joining the church. Just the other day he asked for an RCIA booklet.”
Gina did not appear too convinced, which baffled Ronnie. Normally when her sister learned of somebody mulling over the Rite of Christian Initiation for Adults program, as the secretary of the English department at Ronnie’s school did last year, Gina would immediately prepare a reading list and offer prayerful support. Indeed, here she frowned deeper and slammed back into the house, muttering along the way that she would be helping Nana supervise the move. More than likely, Ronnie knew, she would be taking a mental inventory of everything in the house, just in case.
Ronnie turned back to Father Joel with a withering look. “What she means is that she wants to make sure Landon Dennis doesn’t steal anything more from the Alger clan.”
“I highly doubt he’ll do that.” Father Joel sounded insulted.
Ronnie shrugged. “I have nothing worth stealing anyway. I don’t even have a television anymore.”
“Just as well. No point in owning one until football season starts,” Father rejoined with a smile, “unless you’re lucky enough to get Jaguars tickets.”
“After last season, that shouldn’t be too difficult.”
“Hey, new coach, new season.” Father Joel chuckled. “Have faith.”
“I’m trying, but I have this nagging feeling God’s siding with the NFC.” Ronnie then invited the priest inside for a look around and for a soda. “By the way, is the other Dennis brother doing his service for the church, too?”
Father Joel stopped short of the threshold and his countenance darkened. Ronnie felt a light catch at her throat. This just hasn’t been the day for saying the right thing, she thought.
“Lorne Dennis is back in prison,” Father Joel said quietly. “Assault and battery following a rough night at the Wild Rooster, not to mention violating his parole.” He shook his head. “That’s part of the reason we’ve seen such a change in his younger brother. He’s finally decided he needs better role models and a better way of life.”
Ronnie nodded. Who could think of a better role model than the good Lord? “Well, maybe the changes will rub off on Lorne. What about the other boy in there?” She crooked her head towards the house. “What’s his story?”
“Rick Something-or-Other, he spoke so fast I didn’t catch it,” Father Joel admitted. “He’s not one of ours, he’s a friend of Landon’s. Does odds jobs for a living.”
They peered inside the house to see the aforementioned Rick enjoying a long pull from a Coke can while Gina and Nana positioned throw pillows on the newly acquired piece of furniture. Landon was nowhere to be seen.
Ronnie nudged the priest inside the foyer. “No sense in standing in the sun when I finally have a couch to sit on,” she said. “Enjoy the inaugural sit, and I’ll get you a Coke.”
She found Landon in the kitchen, leaning back against her double-tub sink, idly inspecting two round nuts screwed into the ceiling. An open Sprite can sat on the counter to his left; tiny carbonated bubbles fizzled on its rim.
“That’s for the hanging pot rack.” Ronnie nodded upward as she ducked into the refrigerator for the priest’s drink. Suddenly she felt silly for explaining. What did the boy care of her cookery and kitchen décor?
Landon crossed his right hand over his left shoulder to rub a sore muscle. His head tilted back slightly, and Ronnie noticed a trail of reddened acne lining his lower jaw. Other than that, he appeared to be a handsome young man with his hair growing out and the first signs of a mustache darkening his upper lip. A far contrast from the forlorn and shorn youth the Algers encountered in court last year.
“Yeah, there’s a huge pot rack in the church kitchen almost like that, too. We went in there this morning to unload frozen fish sticks for the school.” The statement sounded more like a question coming from the lad, and Ronnie nodded to show that she understood.
“Good thing my nephews are being home schooled,” Ronnie cracked. “They can’t stand fish sticks.”
This got a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Anyway, that rack had these huge spaghetti pots hanging from it. They looked so heavy, like they could pull the screws from the ceiling.”
“They have to feed a lot of kids over there,” Ronnie agreed. Since the bodily interment of Lorena into the church’s altar, registration and enrollment at the school had swelled. With the closing of a soup kitchen at the local Presbyterian church, there was also talk of moving the ministry over to the church hall, which doubled as the school cafeteria. She imagined Landon would be unloading frozen fish sticks for the rest of his allotted community service.
Landon grimaced. “I didn’t much care for the lunches we
got at school. ’Bout everything came with cold tater tots, and the lunch lady was so butt ugly and always muttering under her breath.”
“Tourette’s?”
Landon smiled and held up the can for another drink. “No, thanks. This is fine.”
Ronnie closed the refrigerator door with a thud. She thought better than to say anything. The boy was trying, after all. Instead she dipped an awkward smile in his direction and turned to leave when his next words froze her to the spot.
“I’m sorry for what I did.”
“What did you do?” Ronnie’s heart stopped. Had Gina been right about the boy? Had he slipped a knickknack into his back pocket only to feel guilty about it? Maybe he had found the google-eyed Walnut Man. If so, he could have it.
“I meant about that coffin and all. Lorena. I don’t remember apologizing in court; then again, I don’t remember much about that at all.” Landon looked down at his shoes. “We needed the money, and we didn’t know—”
Mystery Bundle (Saints Preserve Us, Pray For Us Sinners, Murder Most Trivial) Page 21