The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3

by Alexie Aaron

  I blinked until I could focus in the light. Before me sat a panting Harry with his head resting on the table. Standing at the light switch was a priest dressed in the standard black but holding a very optional gun. Where Father Michael reminded me of Gabriel Byrne, this man had Daniel Craig written all over him. His priestly garb clung to his muscled limbs. A set of steely blue eyes bored into me a moment before the tall man saw my partner. His face lit up. "Betty, so good to see you."

  "Father David. I should have known a rogue like you would be up to something." Betty clapped her hands together in joy. "Father David, may I introduce my friend Cin, and you've just met Harry of course."

  "I'd shake your hand, but it seems to be occupied at the moment." I gestured toward the gun.

  He smiled and thought a minute before he dropped the barrel, but I noticed he omitted putting it away. "Until I figure out what brings you to my humble abode, I’ll just keep this handy. Betty, how are you mixed up in this?"

  "You know my family has worked for the Williams family for generations. Well Mikey, excuse me, Father Michael is missing, and his aunt has hired these folks to find him. Me, I’m just along for the ride. How do you fit into all this, Father?"

  "Later. First let's start with the young man here, since he arrived first."

  Harry looked up. "We had no way of locating Father Michael, so I went to Lucy Blues to ask some questions. I sat down at the bar and the bartender, after checking my ID, asked what he could do for me. I told him I was exhausted and would like a beer. He asked me what kind, and after serving me he stuck around, as it was pretty quiet in the bar. We talked about this and that until he determined that I wasn't from around here, and he asked what I was doing in Savannah. I told him that I had finally tracked down my birth father and had arranged to meet him, but when I arrived he wasn't there. I pulled the old photo of Michael out of my pocket. He looked at it and at me as to see any resemblance. There must have been some because he leaned over the bar and quietly told me that he had seen the man in the picture in Lucy's on a number of occasions. I asked him if he was there now, and he told me he didn't think so. He hadn't seen him in several weeks. Plus, he indicated that he usually went straight upstairs with the other fathers and they hadn't been in for the same amount of time. I sat there stunned for a moment and asked him, ‘What fathers?’ And he told me the Catholic fathers, you know, priests. I was still stunned and gibbered something like, ‘You mean my dad's a priest?’ At that he gave me a pat on the hand and went and poured me a shot of whiskey and told me it was on the house.

  “I sat for a while and sipped the shot as I’m not accustomed to hard liquor. He was filling a drink order and kept looking over at me, pity-like. He came back, and I whispered to him that maybe I better go back home and forget meeting my birth father as it would cause him more embarrassment. Maybe that’s why he wasn't here to meet me. I was just adjusting my backpack to get up and the bartender came back over. He told me that one of the priests that my dad hung around with lived in town and gave me Father David's address. I jotted it down on the back of a candy wrapper I had in my bag and thanked him. Then I left.”

  "Well, that explains you, but how did you two ladies get here?" Father David scratched his head with the business end of the gun.

  "We followed Harry to the park and found the wrapper he left for us to find. We made sure no one was watching and eventually took a cab here."

  "So you're the lad's mum?"

  Okay, so this was the time in the conversation when I had to ask myself if I was going to lie to a priest (maybe) - a priest with a gun (no). "I’m Harry's friend. Father Michael is not his father, er, birth father. We just need to know where he is."

  "For a minute there I thought I had some scandal on young Michael. Now explain the men chasing you, Harry?"

  "I was just walking, making my way here, and just as I crossed over by the fire house, I saw in the reflection of the truck setting outside that this guy seemed to be following me. To test my theory, I stopped to tie my laces. He stopped. As soon as I started walking, he started up again. I really intended on running past here and keep on running, but when I saw Betty and Cin getting out of the cab I knew I could use the situation. I really intended to knock not just barge in. Sorry, Father."

  "Under the circumstances, no problem.” He looked over at Betty and I. "Did he see him come in here?"

  "No," Betty and I answered together.

  "He asked us if we had seen a guy running by, and we told him that he got in the cab we got out of. He left and got in a car that was following him down the street. He said something to the driver, but I didn't catch what was said. And then they drove off," I explained further.

  "Well, if they thought he was here, they would have already been in here by now." Father David put the gun on the counter. "Where are my manners? Sit."

  Betty and I pulled out the chairs and sat as requested. Harry, having caught his breath, reached over and grabbed my hand and Betty's. "Thanks."

  "I never saw you run so fast," I said as I started to laugh. I couldn't help it. Harry usually moves slowly with grace and elegance. "Sorry, Father David, here's the situation. We know that Michael is on some kind of mission. Whether it is church related or not isn't my business. What is my business is where he went so I can find him. He's my friend, and I’ve this bad feeling right now. I think we’re over our heads here, am I right?"

  "Way over your heads." He reached forward and adjusted the necklace I was wearing. "He give you that?"

  "Left it for me."

  "You know what it is?"

  "Oh yes."

  "Fine, here's what I know. Father Michael, myself and three other priests have been meeting in Savannah for years now. With the exception of Father Michael, we were all chaplains in the military. Some of us were in areas of the military that I can't talk about, but basically our jobs have always been ministering to the spiritual needs of the men and women of the armed forces and their families. I, myself, have left the service and minister to the parish here presently. Father Paul and Father Thomas are still active. Father Peter, who is also a veteran, has a missionary parish down in the Everglades. Where, I'm not too sure, but I can find out. Last time we were together, Father Peter was very distracted. We pestered him until he told us. At his parish he heard the confession of a man that disturbed him enough to question whether he should break his vow and report this information to Homeland Security."

  "Homeland Security," I repeated, embarrassed by my voice squeaking.

  Father David nodded and continued, "He didn't want to compromise all of us, so that is where Michael comes in. Father Michael, let's just say for simplicity’s sake, takes care of unpleasant things that the church doesn't really want anyone to know about."

  "I thought he was a researcher," I said dryly.

  "Research, yes, and a little more. But I digress, I suggested that Father Peter confess to Father Michael and let Michael decide what to do next. They left Lucy's for a while - don't ask me where they went - but when they came back Father Michael was very concerned. We continued our evening as if nothing had happened and we left. I to here, David and Paul to their posts, and Peter, I assumed, went back to Florida."

  "Father Michael?"

  "I don't know. But I did get an interesting flyer in the mail." He walked over to the kitchen cabinets and pushed on a trim board and a space opened. He drew out another gun, set it down and then an envelope. He handed it to me.

  I opened the envelope and pulled out a brightly colored piece of paper. My intake of breath was so sharp that it hurt the back of my throat. I held one of the toy drive flyers that Dwayne was passing out just yesterday evening at band practice.

  "When did you get this?" I asked.

  "It was in this morning’s mail. Why?"

  I explained to the group how and when I had received one of those flyers.

  "Do you think this Dwayne is involved?" Harry asked.

  "Involved? We don't even know what there is to b
e involved in. As far as I know, Dwayne Bradley has been in charge of this toy drive for the migrant children's Christmas for as far back as I have been in the band. But if this toy drive has anything to do with Father Michael's disappearance, I may have a way in."

  "How?" Father David asked.

  "I already volunteered."

  Chapter Nine

  As Harry and I drove south through the night, I went over the evening's events. After agreeing that Harry and I needed to leave right away and not endanger Diane or her household by returning to collect our things and make explanations, Betty got on the phone and made arrangements for a rental car to be waiting for us at the Marriott hotel. We would just have to figure out a way to get there without being seen. That left out calling a cab as Harry's pursuers, whoever they were, might be lurking the streets where they lost his trail.

  Father David suggested we go with him to the church, and he would drive us over in the day school bus. Harry would have to be disguised, and that was quickly brought about. I looked over at Harry as he slept and wondered if he liked wearing a nun's habit. He not only looked the part, but he also looked good. So Sister Harriett and I followed Father David through his backyard and into the church. Betty thought it would be better if she waited until he returned to leave, just in case people put her and me together that evening. She was, after all, hard to miss.

  Harry murmured something in his sleep, and I hoped it was a nightmare. Look at the nightmare he had gotten us into. Wait, maybe that wasn't fair. Father Michael was my friend. Harry never even met him. I adjusted the crystal wand necklace. I wasn't getting a conscience was I?

  We had gotten to the hotel without a snag. A nice, clean Ford Focus was waiting for us. Betty had requested something understated so we wouldn't cause a stir as we left the now sleeping Savannah. I opted to drive first. Harry had a lead foot, and driving in Georgia at night, one would have to be diligent to the speed limit as the state police weren't to be trifled with.

  My cell phone vibrated in my pocket, which always surprised me. I reached for it and quietly said hello.

  "Just what in hell's name are you doing?" the cold voice of Diane Williams asked.

  "Have you talked to Betty yet?" I said, steeling my voice word by word until I had almost convinced myself I wasn't scared of her.

  "No. She came in a few minutes ago dressed like God knows what and said for me to hold tight till she got showered." Diane's irritation was very evident.

  "Talk to her first and then call me back." I triumphantly hung up on her.

  "Who was that?" a sleepy Harry asked.

  "Aunt Diane."

  "Oh, is..."

  "She's pissed," I said simply.

  "Speaking of piss, I gotta go." Harry smiled.

  "Oh, hmmm, that presents a bit of a problem."

  "Why?"

  "Do you piss as Sister Harriett or as yourself?" I said and picked up the corner of his wimple for emphasis.

  "Do you think we’re being followed?" Harry said looking in the right side mirror.

  "I don't know, but I think we should act as if we are."

  "That means..."

  "It means that when I reach a place that is still open, probably a Cracker Barrel or a McDonald's, you will have to go as Sister Harriett. That means you sit down in the stall. You wash your hands after and don't speak to anyone."

  "Vow of silence." Harry nodded.

  I turned on the overhead light and examined his skin. Sister Harriett had a bit of a five o'clock shadow showing. I flipped it back off and concentrated on the road ahead of me. We lucked out and the next exit had a truck stop. Harry navigated the restroom while I gassed up the car. I walked in to pay and added several items of the caffeine and the junk food variety to my bill. Harry delicately breezed by me and got in the driver's seat. I have a problem with giving up control of the wheel to anyone and especially to Harry. But I didn't think that arguing with a nun under the strong lights of the pump area was a real good idea. Plus, I expected a call soon from Diane, and I didn't really need the distraction of driving getting in the way of my explanation.

  Harry started the car, and we headed back for the highway. I had to point out that it would be best if we didn't go north, Florida being in its usual position south of Georgia. We had been driving for a couple of miles and Harry was still fidgeting in his seat.

  "What's the matter? Pantyhose in a bunch?" I asked sweetly.

  "No. I’m not wearing pantyhose. I have on my jeans with the legs rolled up. It's just..."

  "Just what?"

  "This." Harry reached under his habit and dug into his back and unceremoniously pulled out a gun and dropped it in my lap.

  "What the hell is this!" I shouted.

  "A gun."

  "I know it is a gun you freaking idiot. What are you doing with it?" I wouldn't even touch it. It lay there in my lap, dull and black. I had never touched a handgun in my life. I can shoot a BB gun and had fired a shotgun several times in my youth, but that was at a rifle range and I only did it to impress a boy. I kept screaming Irish cuss words in my head. I was faintly aware of some other noise in the car. It was Harry, talking again. I hushed my brain and tried to concentrate on his words.

  "Father David gave it to me."

  "Father David gave you a gun. Do you know how to use one?"

  "No, but..."

  "Why would you take a gun you don't know how to use? Plus we’re traveling with a gun that isn't registered to us."

  "I don't think it's registered to anyone."

  "Oh great, let me correct myself. An unregistered handgun, that's different," I growled at him. "Did you ever think if we got pulled over by Georgia's finest, having an unregistered firearm in the car - not to mention you’re in a nun's habit, rolled up blue jeans aside - what they would to do to us?"

  "No, but..."

  "But what?"

  Harry gestured out the window, and Florida welcomed us from a billboard and asked us to drive safely. "We aren't in Georgia now."

  "I hate to crush your point here, but we have just now taken an unregistered firearm across state lines." I poked at it with my finger. "I guess this has a safety?"

  "Father David showed me how to take it off safety, and I think he put it back on."

  "You think!" I realized I was still shouting at him. I quieted down. I took off my seat belt and reclined my seat as far as it would go. I climbed into the back and released the locks on the back seat. I lowered the seat and placed the gun in the trunk. Before I moved the seat back, Harry jiggled around some more, reached back and handed me a small package.

  "What's this?" I felt the weight of the package and didn't want to open it.

  "Bullets."

  "Do you even know how to load this gun, let alone fire it?" I said acidly.

  "No, but..."

  "You’re full of buts aren't you? Go on."

  "What I was trying to say is, I can learn all about it on the Internet," Harry said simply. "Are you finished back there? Because you’re making me nervous."

  I pushed the seat back, climbed up front and moved my seat back into place. "I'm making you nervous?" I said and started laughing. It wasn't good laughing, it was sad laughing. I would have gone into sad sobbing if my cell phone hadn't vibrated just then. "Harry, this probably is Aunt Diane, and I don't want to hear a word out of you until I finish this call. Understand?"

  "Understood," Harry sighed.

  "Hello," I answered the phone.

  "Well, Betty sure had a tale to tell," began Diane. "I understand you have a lead."

  "Actually a couple of leads. I will be running down one as soon as I get back, and I feel confident that we’re on the right track."

  "You also had a little excitement this evening."

  "A bit. Diane, because of everything that is going on, would it be possible for you and your household to vacate for a while?"

  "Vacate, as in run away?" Diane said, and I could here her voice gearing up for a John Wayne speech.

>   "No, vacate as in go to a summer house or vacation. Basically, I don't feel comfortable with you being there considering that the garage apartment was searched recently, and I don't think that they found what they were looking for."

  "Oh, so you want me to leave my things to the mercy of thugs and hooligans?"

  "I was thinking more of the police, but if you want thugs and..."

  "Excuse me, I do understand you. Betty and I will make arrangements. Shall I come down..."

  "No! I mean not yet." I rolled my eyes at my lack of tact. "I don't think it’s a good idea loading the area with Williamses when one may just be undercover. It would send a signal that we’re on to them before we know who and what them is."

  "Fine, you will keep in touch. Use my cell phone number. I gave it to Harry when I was down.

  "Wait, hold on." I looked at Harry. "Do you have Diane's cell number?" Harry just nodded, keeping to our agreement of not talking. "Yes, he has it. Give me a day or so to get into this. I will report as soon as I have anything."

  She ended the call, and I put my phone back into my pocket. I took inventory of what else I had in there. My wallet was housed in the outside pocket of the jean jacket. I had left my passport with my luggage at the Williams’ house. I had the pages from Michael's diary stuffed in my back pants pocket, and nestled snuggly in my front pocket was a bag of marbles and four precious little stones. So, I couldn't leave the country because of a lack of passport, and I was traveling across state lines with an unregistered firearm and possibly stolen diamonds. Not exactly fodder for good dreams, but my eyelids were drooping. So I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

  Chapter Ten

  Harry and I arrived in Palm Beach County just after sunrise. I was still worried about being followed, so we dropped off the rental and took the shuttle into the airport. While I looked in the shops, Harry ducked into a restroom - I preferred not to know which - and ditched the habit. We met down at the cabstand and took a taxi home.