The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3

by Alexie Aaron

  She was out of breath but still managed to give us the bad news. “They think he’s either in Queen Mary’s Gardens - you remember, Mom, the rose garden - or up by the outdoor theater.”

  “I can find the rose garden. Father Michael, you come with me. Give the phone to Paz. You kids go to the theater. We will wait at the rose garden if we don’t find him and wait for one of you to come and get us if you find him. Lord, that sounds confusing.”

  “Don’t worry yerself, we getcha,” Paz said and the three of them left.

  We walked along in silence. Father Michael was in street clothes, and I had managed to find a clean outfit. My Doc Martin boots were laced tight. There was no way I was going to lose any more shoes.

  “This is so beautiful,” Father Michael said looking around.

  “This isn’t anything compared to the rose garden. The first time I was here it was in the first weeks of May. The roses were just beginning to bloom. They’ve had a warmer spring, so I am hoping to see...”

  We walked into the garden and all words escaped me. The roses where blooming. There were roses hanging in chains circling the garden. Benches were placed every few yards. I remember taking a picture of Noelle on one of those green benches. The color and fragrance was overwhelming. On either side of the center walk different varieties of roses were planted in mass. Their names were placed on markers to educate the admirers.

  I had forgotten why we were there and was trying to read a marker without my reading glasses when a voice asked.

  “Can I be of service ma’am?” the voice belonged to a fit older man with startling blue eyes. His hair was thick and gray and his skin tan from constant exposure.

  I took a chance. “You wouldn’t happen to be Michael Sherborn by any chance?”

  He smiled. “What kind of chance? Chance meeting? Fateful chance? Is this a blind date?” he teased.

  He had me so flustered. “Ah, well?” was all I could say.

  He took a little bow. “Michael Sherborn, Head Gardener, at your service...”

  “Cin, Cin Fin-Lathen.” Shit, I told him my name, sure spill your guts, get yourself killed and while you’re at it...

  “Well, you sound like an American. Now what would an American, a fiery one at that, be wanting of me? Must be my body.” He winked at me. “Sorry to tell you I lost my heart in my youth and my body is not for sale.”

  I was still stammering and sputtering when Father Michael saved me.

  “Mr. Sherborn, I’m Father Michael Williams, and I have been looking for you.”

  “I have no time for religion, Father. I have the roses to attend to.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m Donald Williams’s nephew. I’m your namesake.”

  “Donald? Wait let me think. Donald Williams! The hymn writer. Great lad! How is he? It has been about...a lot of years...I guess since before the war broke out. He was at Bathgate with my brother and me. Good decent fellow, especially considering that he was an American. Is he here too?” Michael looked around.

  “Mr. Sherborn...”

  “Call me Michael, Michael.” He looked at me. “Us with the same names, how are you going to tell us handsome lads apart?”

  “Michael, can I ask you a question?”

  “So you can speak. Go ahead.”

  “What do you remember about Bathgate?”

  “Unfortunately, everything. The place haunts and tortures me. You see I met my true love there. I left her to go to war, and when I came back my brother told me she had been killed. Bathgate bombed, nothing left. But I keep her alive in my memories. Her name was Angela, she was my love.” His eyes misted. “But enough sadness, tell me about Donald.”

  “Michael, you may have to sit down.”

  “Why? Has Donald passed on?” He reached over and squeezed my hand. “Don’t fret yourself none. Us older fellers are used to our friends passing on.”

  “Donald was killed at Bathgate.”

  “In the bombing? With Angela?” He looked confused.

  “No, after the war. We just found his body in the bog behind the school. Hold on, there’s more. Bathgate wasn’t bombed. It’s still standing.” I held on to his hand. “Angela didn’t die. She’s still alive.”

  “Still alive? Why didn’t she come and be with me?”

  “Michael, look at me.” I waited until I had his eyes. “Your brother came and told her that you were dead. Killed in action. She became very ill and her family had to put her in a hospital, where she stayed for two years. She has lived all these years at Bathgate, single, mourning you.”

  “I must go to her. Why did Maurice lie to us? I have to talk to my brother. I have to go to Angela. This is too much...”

  Father Michael moved quickly to help his namesake keep his balance. In doing so he saved his life. Father Michael’s shoulder exploded spraying blood in my face. Someone was shooting at us.

  “Get down!” I dropped to the ground, and between Michael and me we pulled Father Michael close to the rose bushes. The shot must have been fired from across the garden to have hit him that way. I heard a whizzing sound as a large bloom overhead exploded.

  “Why is someone shooting at us?” Michael asked.

  “I was hoping you could tell us that.”

  “I dunno. Give me your purse. We have to stop this bleeding.

  I gave him my purse, and I started to crawl around the rose patch to get a look at who was taking potshots at us. It was Bruno. He was boldly standing in plain sight, his rifle had a silencer on it and a scope, a scope that was aimed at me! Before I could move I heard a whack and saw a soccer ball fly at Bruno. The ball hit his shoulder causing the rifle to fly out of his hands. Before he could recover, my daughter ran screaming at him.

  “Not my mother you freaking...”

  I didn’t catch the rest because I was on my feet running.

  Noelle got to Bruno first and plowed into him. She threw all her weight and hit him in the stomach knocking him off his feet. Then she reached down and grabbed the rifle and flung it wildly away, nearly decapitating me with it in the process.

  Bruno was on his feet and grabbed her before I reached them.

  “Stay away you! I’ll break her bloody neck.”

  I looked at Noelle, and she wasn’t scared. Before he could react Noelle dropped her weight and broke his grasp. She then twisted her body throwing a sidekick into his solar plexus. He landed hard on his back. Noelle knelt over him raising her hand in a palm heel striking position.

  “Move one inch, and I will send your nose into your brain,” she said viciously.

  Bruno’s eyes darted around, but he kept still until he spotted something and shouted. “Help me! I am being mugged!”

  I turned around to see a constable come running.

  He pulled his truncheon out. “Hold it right there, don’t move.”

  Before I could speak Bruno was babbling. He claimed we were muggers, robbing him because he was old and weak. The constable reached over and pulled my daughter off Bruno. He sat up.

  “Constable, this man was shooting at us. A priest is wounded over there.” I pointed at the rose bushes.

  “They’re more of them hiding. They’ll jump you.” Bruno was on his feet.

  The constable reached for his radio. Bruno pulled out a gun from his jacket. He started walking backwards aiming his gun at the constable.

  “Just like a child’s game. Rock, Paper, Shears,” he said as he distanced himself. “Gun beats radio...”

  He didn’t see what we saw. In his arrogance he didn’t see Billy walk into the garden behind him. Nor did he see Billy calmly walk over and pick up a gardening implement. He was still laughing over his “gun beats radio” comment when Billy whacked him on the head.

  “Gun beats radio you bastard, but shovel beats gun.” He dropped the shovel to catch Paz as she launched herself at him.

  “My hero!”

  “Now, could you please get on that radio and call for an ambulance and backup?” I said coldly.

 
; I ran back to the Michaels. Michael Sherborn had isolated the Father’s arm and pressed a handkerchief and a pair of my, never know when you’ll need them, cotton underpants into his shoulder.

  “He’s still bleeding. The bullet tumbled on its way out.”

  “Here let me spell you.”

  I got to my knees and carefully replaced the gardener’s hands. Michael’s blood was warm. “Has he come around?”

  “No he hasn’t, not a peep. What happened over there?”

  “My daughter took out the sniper with a soccer ball and a karate kick. Then one of London’s finest let him get away. But don’t worry, one of Cornwall’s finest saved the day.”

  “How? Is Billy a karate expert too?”

  “No, just handy with a shovel.”

  “He used my good shovel?” Michael shook his head. “Probably dented it with the crook’s hard head. Who was the shooter?”

  “Bruno Vanchencho.”

  “Don’t know him. Sounds Russian. Why would he be trying to kill the Father here?”

  “Michael, he wasn’t trying to kill the Father, he was trying to kill you. Father Michael just got in the way.”

  Michael sat back with a thud.

  I put my hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, he tried to kill me the other day, and I’m just fine. Angie, er, Angela, he tried to kill her three times, and she’s still in one piece.”

  “How? Why?” he said rubbing his head.

  “The why, I haven’t quite figured out yet. The how, well, Angie he hit on the head, shot in the head, and tried abducting. I got in the way of that one. Me, he just shot me full of Valium and threw me in the bog with Donald.”

  “Miserable bastard.”

  Noelle and Paz ran over. When they saw all the blood, Paz turned green but managed not to faint. The line of curse words she kept spouting seemed to work like medicine. Noelle relieved me holding the Father’s wounds.

  “The emergency people are almost here. Michael’s aunt Diane called with the forensic information about the bullet, and Paz told her to go to University Hospital. She knew Father Michael had been shot and told the aunt that they would most likely bring him there.” Noelle looked down at her hands. “Are these your panties? Oh they are. Oh gross.”

  “They were clean.”

  Noelle and I took turns applying pressure until the paramedics arrived. Father Michael was taken to the hospital. Noelle rode with him, telling me I had to stay and straighten everything out. Before she left I held her and said, “You saved my life, that’s twice.”

  Her eyes were full of tears. “I couldn’t let him hurt my Mommy. I just saw red. Besides if you died, you would have left me with Alex and Dad and the evil stepmother.” She got in the vehicle with Father Michael and they sped off to the hospital.

  Paz was walking around Michael Sherborn looking menacing. I grabbed her before she could do any harm. I brought her up to date on the information. Her face fell, and she walked over and hugged the old man, blood covered and all.

  “What did I do to deserve this?” he said helplessly.

  “You loved her all your life. She loved you all hers. It is so damn beautiful,” Paz exclaimed. “She doesn’t know. Cin, she’s headed into Maurice’s office in less than an hour.”

  “Where is she now?” Michael asked.

  “At her flat. I don’t know where that is? Cin?”

  “The police will know. Hold on, let me see if I can get us out of here.”

  Sergeant Moore eyed Constable Green as he took down my statement. They had taken in Bruno, and they were very pleased to have him. Between the Met and Interpol he had seventeen warrants. I promised to come in for further debriefing and wouldn’t leave London or the country until I had. Paz walked over and gave him the address where we would be staying. His eyebrows raised, and he seemed more cooperative than before. I asked him to contact Chief Superintendent Browning and tell him that Bruno had been caught. I looked at my watch. We had twenty minutes to catch Angie before she left.

  After explaining as much as I could to the Sergeant, he let us go after I surrendered my passport. I guess trust only goes so far.

  As we hurried toward the exit and the tube, Peter, who was summoned by Paz, greeted us. He had a cab waiting. He looked around us.

  “Noelle went to the hospital with Father Michael,” I explained.

  “Is she all right? Paz, you didn’t tell me Noelle was at the hospital.”

  “She’s fine, she dished out a load of hurt, and you should have seen her. Besides if I told you she was there where would you have gone first?”

  “To the hospital.”

  “That is exactly why I didn’t tell you. Now drop us off at Angie’s and then go over and play knight in shining armor,” Paz was very direct and her accent refined. Noelle was right; Paz had been using a phony accent.

  We arrived in one piece. Peter waved off the money I tried to give him for the cab. This penniless musician wasn’t looking so broke to me. We stood on the sidewalk. Michael was shuffling his feet.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he spoke to the ground.

  “Wait here. I’ll come and get you.” I looked at Paz and Billy. “Watch him. And try to clean him up a bit, he’s covered in blood.”

  I walked up the stairs and rang the bell. Constable Davis answered. She held open the door saying the sergeant had warned her we were coming. I looked back at the others. Billy had taken off his shirt and given it to Michael, whom Paz was, after spitting on a tissue, trying to clean. I walked in and found Angie in a little tiny kitchen.

  “Angie.”

  She turned around looked at me. “What did you do!”

  I raised my hand. “Let me explain. First of all, it isn’t my blood it’s Father Michael’s. He’s at the hospital...”

  “Well, let’s go then.” She tried to push past me.

  “Sit down, Angela Bathgate!” I was surprised at my harsh tone.

  She sat down. I pulled another chair close to her, and I sat down in front of her.

  “Now listen, we will see him soon, but there is something else I need you to listen to. It is very important.” I waited. She settled back. “We found out last night something very disturbing. Something we couldn’t share with you.”

  “That Bobby has been trying to kill me! That little...”

  I almost laughed at that point. I raised my hand until I sobered up. “Quit talking, let me finish. We found out that Michael Sherborn is alive,” I said it fast and watched her face.

  Her eyes went wide. A mixture of emotions crossed her face, happiness, anger and confusion. “Did Michael shoot the priest?”

  “No. Bruno shot him. Noelle and Billy saved the day. We don’t have to worry about Bruno anymore.”

  She relaxed a bit. “Where has he been for the last fifty some years?” I saw her steel herself. She wouldn’t let the tears fall.

  “According to Michael, Maurice told him when he came back from the war that you had been killed by a bomb that destroyed Bathgate.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going to find out why.”

  “Where? Where is Michael?” she asked softly.

  “Here.”

  She got to her feet and smoothed her hair.

  “You look fine.” I turned. “Constable Davis, could you ask the others to come in?”

  She left the room, and I heard her open the door and call down the steps. There were footfalls pounding into the house. Michael Sherborn flew into the room. He didn’t stop, he ran right up to Angie and scooped her up in his arms and showered her with kisses.

  “Angela, my heart, my soul. I have been dead without you. When Maurice told me, I didn’t hear the music anymore. I didn’t want to have anything to do with the music. He took me to see your grave.”

  “My grave? Why did Maurice do this? What did we do to deserve this?”

  Michael stroked her face. “I dunno, but we’re together now. Let’s concentrate on now. We have been robbed of years, but let’s not l
et him take these moments.” He held her tenderly.

  I turned around and herded the wet-faced constable, a snotty-nosed Paz and Billy who was failing at the strong, silent act.

  “Let’s give them some privacy.”

  We headed out and sat on the steps. Constable Davis filled us in on what she was told before we arrived.

  “Your meeting with Maurice Sherborn has been postponed two hours. Chief Superintendent Browning wants to interview Bruno before he risks letting you in to see Sherborn. He flew in fifteen minutes ago. Not at all happy at the priest being shot.” She eyed me.

  I was about to say it wasn’t my fault, but I didn’t think I could convince myself of that.

  “Is someone watching Maurice?”

  “Yes.”

  “What about Bentley Hughes?”

  “I don’t know. Why, should he be watched?”

  I took a deep breath. “Because if someone killed Horace Beaufort, Donald Williams, possibly Ivan Bendonovich and just tried to kill Michael, then one or both of them may be in danger. Even if Bruno was caught, it doesn’t clean up this mess. I know you haven’t been briefed on this whole affair, so please excuse me if I am being rude.”

  “It’s okay. I will go in ... no, I will call in from my car and see if I can get you some answers.”

  She walked down to her vehicle. Angie came to the door.

  “Paz, there is a Peter on the phone for you. In the kitchen, dear. Come on, the day is wasting.” She let Paz in and looked down at us and frowned. “What are you guys doing sitting on my front steps? Cin, you’re a royal mess and, Billy, you don’t have a shirt on. Honestly, country bumpkins the lot of you. Get in here.”

  “Yes mum,” I said and walked in. Billy was laughing.

  “What are you laughing at? If your mother saw how I was taking care of you she would have a fit. A fit mind you.”

  “Excuse me,” Paz said sticking her head in the living room. “Peter says Father Michael just got out of surgery, and he is going to be fine.”