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

by Leigh Ellwood

  “Uh—” Ronnie began to tell her that they were at a shivah, not a wake, but never got the chance. Jeanette quickly turned and disappeared into the sea of black descending upon the buffet. Ronnie glanced back to the wide, scalloped archway and thought of fading into the background herself, but Landon spotted her and waved.

  “Would you look at all this food,” he said in awe of the platters and bowls before them. “Father Joel was telling me a little about Jewish stuff. Seems everywhere you go there’s always food. Man, he wasn’t kidding.”

  “Catholics aren’t much different in that respect,” Ronnie said uneasily as Landon topped off an already rounded plate with a healthy scoop of chicken salad. “Nothing wrong with food. God wouldn’t have made it for us, otherwise.”

  “Yeah, ‘cept maybe apples,” Landon said, distracted by the buffet. “We all know how that story went, huh?”

  “Actually, if you read Genesis, you won’t find the word apple. I don’t know how the apple came to be associated with the Tree of Knowledge. I’d think that particular fruit wouldn’t be found nowadays.”

  Landon laughed thoughtfully at that. “I’ll bring that up with Father Joel next time I’m at the church. He’s been helping me with that stuff. I just hope he don’t think I’m trying to cause trouble or nothing.”

  Ronnie bit back the urge to correct the young man’s speech, suppressing the English teacher within, and asked instead, “Why would you think that? Father actually enjoys a good debate.”

  Landon shrugged and shuffled the food around his plate with a plastic fork. “I don’t know,” he said, chewing, “I just remember when I was little and my mom got saved and all. She’d make us go to Sunday school. I’d try to ask the teacher questions about the Bible, like how there’d be so many people born if Eve was the only woman around. I mean, she couldn’t have had all those kids, right? And where did her grandkids come from? Stuff like that.” He shook his head. “Teacher just said that’s the way it was, and if I didn’t believe it I was going to Hell.”

  Ronnie laughed. “Well, I know from experience that Father Joel is not one to become unglued at every nitpicking question.” A memory of how the priest helped her craft some very eloquent responses to Ethan Fontaine’s scathing anti-Catholic e-mails bubbled to the surface of her consciousness. Whether Ethan had bothered to read them, she did not know.

  “He’s a good catechist, er, Bible teacher,” Ronnie added. “You’ll learn a lot from him if you’re really serious about going through RCIA.”

  Landon’s shoulder drooped as he set down his plate and rammed his hand in his pants pocket. Ronnie watched him nervously shuffle away from the table. He looked as if he was about to ask her to the prom.

  “I’m still thinking about it,” he said sheepishly. “I might have more incentive to go through with it.”

  “How so?” Ronnie tried to think of every girl Landon’s age who was a member of the parish. Surely one of them had to have caught his fancy.

  Landon’s face suddenly turned serious. “Could I ask you something?”

  “You just did.”

  He thought a moment, then chuckled nervously. “No, I mean, can I ask you something in private? I don’t want to say it in front of all these people.”

  “Oh, okay.” Ronnie stepped away from the table as she risked a glance into the living room. She could see Gina’s head as she sat in between Danny and Lorraine, trying to look attentive as a bawling woman vigorously shook her hand.

  The next thing she knew, she had allowed Landon to lead her across the dining room into the spacious kitchen, gleaming with white Corian countertops and stainless steel appliances. Caterers in white tuxedo shirts and black aprons circled the large butcher block, silently preparing refills on food, while Nora Daily chatted quietly on the wall phone by the breakfast nook. She cast a cursory glance at the interlopers and offered a cautious, confused wave before the voice on the other end regained her attention.

  Landon opened the far door and ushered Ronnie into a large laundry room the size of her master bedroom. The faint scent of fabric softener hung in the stifled air around them, and bright sunlight exploded through the paneled glass windows on the door leading to the backyard patio. The area was free of dirty laundry and Ronnie imagined Lorraine or Nora had somebody clear it away before the shivah in the event some fans stumbled into the room by accident.

  She looked at Landon and suddenly became wary of the glow in his green eyes. “Uh, Landon,” she said as he quietly closed the door behind them. “How did you know to come in here? How well do you know your way around?”

  “Remember my friend Rick, who moved your couch with me and Father Joel? He works up here part-time doing the landscaping,” Landon said as he leaned against an industrial-sized washing machine that probably cost two of Ronnie’s paychecks. “A few months back I started working here, too, whenever they needed an extra hand planting stuff and cutting the grass.” He nodded to the far corner of the room by the outside exit. “Miss Witt had that shower installed for us to use. Her mom didn’t like for us to go tramping through the house all messed up.”

  “How considerate of her.” Ronnie now noticed the white stall, the opaque plastic curtain covering the entrance. Images of Landon’s lean, tanned body, freckled with potter’s soil and sweat, arched slightly as long needles of water drenched him, came unbidden, and Ronnie shook them away.

  Knock it off, she told herself. He could be one of your students. You’re not Mrs. Robinson.

  She forced herself to look at the young man, his drawling smile and his squared shoulders. “Okay, what is so important that couldn’t be heard by an entire shivah? If you’re worried about offending anybody, I don’t know much about Jewish death rituals myself to tell you what you would be doing wrong.”

  “Nothing like that,” Landon said, “but people might find it a bit inappropriate.”

  “Find what?” Ronnie did not like where this was going, wherever that was.

  With one bold stride forward Landon had both arms around Ronnie’s waist as he dove in for a kiss. His lips clamped against hers, his breathing quick and roaring in her left ear. Initially taken aback by the move, Ronnie tightened her jaw as Landon gently tried to pry her mouth open with his tongue. She had not been kissed in months, which seemed more like an eternity, and though Ronnie missed the abrasive itch of Lew’s mustache brushing against her upper lip, she guiltily welcomed the intimacy offered to her now.

  Landon had called her from the rectory, she realized. It had not been a mistake.

  Soon she was returning Landon’s kiss, and the young man shifted his stance for a better angle. Their breathing slowed and synchronized; time suspended, and Ronnie felt her body trembling. There was no laundry room, no shivah sweltering outside, and no dead friend to mourn. Only this.

  When Landon finally pulled away he brushed a rough thumb across Ronnie’s lips, holding her tightly with his other arm. She could feel his heart pounding against her. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while, Ronnie,” he whispered.

  Suddenly common sense regained its grasp on Ronnie. “Please, call me Mrs. Lord.”

  ~ * ~

  Ronnie did not know how she made it through the kitchen back to the living room. She seemed to float in a warm fog, the memory of Landon’s kiss and aftershave making her dizzy. Muttering voices pounded in her ears; everybody was still talking about how wonderful Allayne was, how talented, how generous.

  Ronnie heard none of it as she woodenly edged into the inner circle of mourners. She dragged a bewildered Gina from her position next to Danny and Marlene, offered her most sincere apologies to Lorraine, and steered her sister toward the exit.

  Lorraine had been juggling two plates of food and a plastic cup. “But wait,” she called after them, “we still haven’t—”

  But Ronnie silenced her with a pale glance cast over her shoulder. “We’ll be in touch, don’t worry. We have to take off, it’s an emergency, if you know what I mean.”

 
; Lorraine’s lips pursed, and she slowly nodded. “I see. Well, girls, you go right ahead,” she said politely, and returned to her low stool. Nora Daily, standing on the fringe of the collected mourners, appeared only too eager to usurp Gina’s position.

  Gina, meanwhile, writhed in her sister’s vice grip. “What emergency?” she hissed. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Just walk,” Ronnie said, and two wove through a trickle of mourners clicking their tongues and shaking their heads. How sad she left us so soon. Damn the cancer.

  The cancer. Allayne had cancer, nothing more. There was no foul play, no imagined stalker, and no tainted cacao beans. An entire mansion of people was convinced of this, and Lorraine would have to be, too. All Ronnie knew was that she had to get away from this house, as much as the people within tested her sanity.

  “Well, I guess I should thank you for finally showing up,” Gina grumbled once they were outside in the driveway. “The whole time I’m sitting there I’m listening to the history of Southwest Memorial. I swear, I bet this one woman knows the cast better than she does her own family.”

  “That’s nice. Maybe Lorraine can get her the writing job,” Ronnie said. “I’m just glad she didn’t put up a fuss about us taking off.”

  “I’ll pray an extra Rosary tonight. What’s up with you, anyway? Did you see Allayne’s ghost?”

  Ronnie looked at her sister, unsure if she were joking. “No, it’s nothing. Let’s just go home.”

  The gravel was just as uncomfortable on their stocking feet on the return trip to the car, and both women steeled themselves for the long, painful walk. They were not ten steps to freedom when a familiar, nasal voice sounded behind them.

  “Girls, just a minute before you go!”

  Ronnie sighed. The pull of Hurricane Lorraine was too strong, and both sisters slowly turned one hundred eighty degrees. Lorraine edged between them and, like a powerful current, guided them back to the house.

  “About what you said earlier… well, the crowd is starting to thin, so if you have something to say about what we discussed a few nights ago...” Wink, wink. “We should get it over with, you think? I’d meet you somewhere else, but I don’t want to leave all these people, and I’d feel better if I could keep an eye on Danny and Nora.”

  “Well...” Gina pulled the word into several syllables before launching into a soliloquy about having to be home to feed her children. “If I leave Bill to his own devices, they’ll all be eating cake frosting with the same spoon,” she added with a forced laugh.

  Lorraine appeared to buy the lie. Ronnie rolled her eyes when she was not looking. Bill was a much better cook than Gina, and this was not uncommon knowledge.

  “Of course, dear. You’ve already done so much for me today, you need to be with your own family now,” Lorraine said, patting her hand. “Tell you what, leave your sister with me and she’ll get you up to speed later tonight.”

  What? Tonight? As in after the sun has set? No way! “Actually,” Ronnie broke in, “I drove Gina here, so she won’t be able to leave without me...”

  Gina shot her a look that said Sorry, my lie’s better than yours. “Actually,” she rejoined, “you gave me your keys so they wouldn’t get lost, remember?” To effect, she jangled Bill’s Thunderbird keys in front of Ronnie. “I promise I’ll take good care of your car.”

  “Yes,” Lorraine said to Ronnie, “and Danny can drive you home later.”

  “Uh.” While Ronnie did not doubt Danny would find no fault with being volunteered to ferry her home, there was no way Gina was going to get a Get Out of Two Witt Free card.

  “I wouldn’t mind that,” Gina said, a faint smile flickering at her sister, “if Danny doesn’t mind.”

  “If I don’t mind doing what?”

  “Danny, you meshugah,” Lorraine chided him. “You left our guests alone?”

  Danny said nothing as he approached the trio. Instead he blew out a stream of gray smoke and dropped his cigarette butt on the ground, extinguishing it with his heel. Ronnie caught the stench of tobacco and menthol as he neared and jammed his hands in his coat pockets. When Lorraine repeated her suggestion, he appeared happy to oblige. A bit too happy, Ronnie noticed, judging from the look of relief on his face.

  “Per your question, Lorraine, Marlene is still inside, and Nora is with her. They have things under control,” he said curtly. “I just needed a cigarette is all, since smoking in the house is verboten.” His expression warmed as he turned to Ronnie. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll be happy to give you a lift,” he said, and started back toward the house.

  The look in the agent’s eyes implied to Ronnie that he would be happy to do more, but perhaps she was too affected by the incident with Landon that she was imagining things. Attractive though she was, she knew she was hardly catnip.

  “Well, with that settled, I’ll be heading home.” Gina offered Lorraine a sincere hug. “Take care of yourself. ‘Bye, Ron.”

  Gina broke free of the group, not daring to look back. Ronnie wished her a thousand blisters on her feet as Lorraine clamped her arm and guided her up the front steps.

  Chapter Eight

  Once back at the shivah, Lorraine suddenly seemed less concerned about discussing Allayne’s death than she had earlier. Before Ronnie realized what was happening, she was talking with several of Allayne’s co-stars, all of whom had, oddly enough, heard of her. Somewhere during the course of the day, thanks to Lorraine, she had been promoted from English professor at a two-year college to an aspiring screenwriter and Ash Lake’s envoy to the Vatican.

  “This is Veronica Lord, the niece of that saint girl in town. We’re trying to get her on the writing staff at Southwest, and who knows? She might be adapting her saint girl’s life for cable,” Lorraine would inform impressed mourners. On and on it went as Ronnie remained awkwardly silent on the low stool Nora grudgingly gave up for her, a smile plastered on her face. To her relief, though, she did not see Landon for the rest of the day, and assumed the young man had slipped away during one mass exodus of guests.

  Nor, she realized later, did she see Dakota. In fact, the house girl had not put in an appearance at all, at the service in Mandarin or in the kitchen to help the caterers.

  Eventually, more mourners took their leave in smaller groups, then individually, until the only people circling the furniture were the caterers cleaning up emptied plates and cups. Marlene, facing a nearly two-hour drive, had begged off early.

  Nora lifted herself from the couch and stretched.

  “I’m going to take a nap,” she announced, her voice grim. “Wake me in a week.”

  Danny followed her part of the way then turned sharply toward the back exit. “Can’t. I’ll be sleeping, too. After one more cig.” Seconds later, Ronnie and Lorraine were alone in the living room.

  “I’m so glad they’re gone,” Lorraine said. “The rest will be in the kitchen, cleaning up. Now we can get down to business.”

  “What about Dakota, the house girl?” Ronnie asked, shifting a nervous glance about the room. “She could be lurking around here somewhere.”

  “Hardly. I fired her yesterday. Good riddance to bad rubbish, I say. Laney should’ve done it a long time ago.”

  Fired? “Are you sure that was a wise thing to do, Lorraine? If you suspect her—”

  “I don’t,” Lorraine said firmly. “I got to thinking after you left that night. That girl hasn’t a brain in her head. She doesn’t have the wits to kill someone as cleverly as Allayne was killed, so why bother keeping her here? I don’t want her working for me. Now those other two...” Lorraine tapped a finger to her temple. “Let’s talk about them. You saw how Nora practically spent the whole shivah on the phone?”

  Ronnie tried to focus on Nora, seeing the kitchen wall phone pinned to her ear, but her thoughts kept moving forward to the clandestine tryst in the laundry room. Ronnie tugged at her collar. She could still smell his aftershave on her. Had anyone else? “Uh, yeah,” she said finally. “
I do recall seeing her.”

  Lorraine huffed. “Talking to magazines, she was. Giving interviews to People and TV Guide. Like that can’t wait a few days? Nobody knows more than I do that Laney is deserving of the attention, but the way she carried on it was as if the day was about Nora.”

  “And it’s not.”

  “Of course it’s not,” Lorraine exploded. “Which is why you’re here now. Laney will be avenged. I won’t see it any other way.”

  Ronnie swallowed. The room seemed inexplicably smaller at that moment, and she moved from the hard, wooden stool to the more comfortable sofa.

  “So.” Lorraine cupped her chin in her hand. “What are your thoughts, what have you and Gina come up with so far? What about the cookie? Did you get somebody to look at it?”

  “Uh.” Ronnie inhaled sharply, willing herself to calm. “Well, to be honest, I haven’t touched the cookie yet. I just don’t think—”