04.Final Edge v5

by Robert W. Walker

  "Imagine, she located her birth mother, living right here in Houston, and they were getting to know one another, doing famously according to Lauralie, when suddenly she left her again. After that, Lauralie's calls became infrequent, and soon nonexistent. She'd been living with her mother, but I tried contacting her there, only to learn she'd vanished, and I've worried about her, prayed for her since, and now you are here."

  "What about her father?" asked Lucas.

  "Deceased. She learned of it from her mother. Died some years before. She told me she laid flowers at his grave."

  "When Lauralie was here at Our Lady, given her record of trouble and vandalism, however did she become a trustworthy?" asked Meredyth.

  "She earned it. Straightened up her act, as they say, mightily. Took Mother Orleans's death very hard, she did...as did all the girls, but I convinced her that Mother Orleans would want her to pull out of her depression."

  "And she made a miraculous recovery?" Meredyth watched the nun's response closely. She had begun to analyze the woman, Lucas realized.

  "Yes, miraculous... with the help of God...came to her senses, began using that intellect I convinced her she had to use to survive on the outside."

  "Inventive, resourceful, and adroit, would you say?"

  "Only in the best sense. She turned a comer in her mind, began soaking up knowledge, learned to like the programs I put into place, and excelled."

  Meredyth, nodding added, "Particularly the Work for Trust Program?"

  "In everything, she began to excel, to discover her own power, that she owned her intellect and her emotions and must turn them toward the greater glory of God."

  "Despite all the hardships life had meted out to her?"

  "Perhaps because of them. Small miracle, I say. She learned to control her pent-up rage and anger at the world, and win trust points in the bargain."

  Mother Elizabeth stared out into space as if picturing Lauralie. "Previous to my taking charge, she would do nothing around the convent, and although a bright girl, her grades were deplorable." She shivered with the thought. "She spent most of her time staring out the windows and swinging on the gate out there. After my programs were initiated, she was soon outside those bars looking in."

  "Then as early as what, fifteen, sixteen, she was off the grounds at times, looking for her parents?" asked Meredyth, probing.

  "Oh, no! It took time, years. She took to winning trust only after she'd turned seventeen, and she graduated and opted to leave at eighteen. It was in her junior year of high school that I allowed her some latitude in her search for her parents, although I warned her she might not like what she found out there beyond the gates of Our Lady."

  "Careful of what you wish...you may get it," commented Lucas.

  "Something like that, yes."

  Meredyth, a strand of hair falling over her right eye, asked, "Did you open her records to her?"

  "Not exactly. She broke into them one night and found them on her own."

  "Clever girl."

  "Cunning when she wished, yes. This was before we had our heart-to-heart. It was after that that I gave into her unquenchable desire to locate her parents, to help her in any way that I could. However, I failed her miserably."

  "How so?" Meredyth tiptoed lightly. Lucas knew to keep quiet. Mother Elizabeth wiped a tear from her eye.

  "Her mother was no longer at the recorded address or phone number, and I had an institution to save, and so... . Still, that young lady kept doggedly at it, taking it entirely upon herself to research her mother's whereabouts. Primarily, that meant she was spending more and more time away from here and on the street in her quest."

  "Where are the records on Lauralie's adoption now? Can we have a look?" Meredyth asked.

  "Archive files, as I said, in the basement. Not pleasant surroundings. Are you sure?"

  "I'll brave the surroundings. Perhaps your assistant could show us the way?" asked Meredyth.

  "I'll fetch Audrey, and we'll both show you the way. I need the walk, exercise for a bad hip and knees." Ignoring the intercom, she went next door to Sister Audrey.

  Alone with Meredyth now, Lucas said, "Remember what Kelton said about the vandalized grave of a guy named Blood at Greenhaven Meadows?"

  "Off Berwyn, yeah."

  "Blood is not far off from Blodgett. This girl's name is Blodgett. You think Kelton may've gotten it wrong?"

  "Or maybe we have a genuine coincidence?"

  "Might be worth a look-see all the same. Greenhaven Meadows Cemetery's not too awfully far from here."

  "If there's time, depends on the condition of these records I want a gander at, and I want to get back downtown before the courthouse closes, and you...you wanted to hit the mortuary, remember?"

  "First things first, I know. Lauralie, you're reckoning, is one of the infants you placed, right?"

  "If so Lucas...and if she turns out to be the courier we're seeking, God forbid but then there's a tie between this place, the Ripper, her mother, the murder of Mira Lourdes, and me...."

  CHAPTER 11

  MOTHER ELIZABETH HAD not exaggerated the inaccessibility of their files and records. Going back as far as 1984 proved a daunting task. Meredyth wondered if she'd ever locate the files she'd come to peruse. While Mother Elizabeth apologized, saying they had not had money to place the records on computer, and that they hadn't the space for the hard files anywhere but in the basement, Meredyth and Lucas knew better. Record-keeping simply hadn't ever been a big priority here, and certainly not given the attention that it ought to have been given over the years. The orphanage was lucky to have gotten away with such poor record-keeping this long. And hadn't Mother Elizabeth said something about some woman associated with the state who wanted to shut them down? It likely began with a look at the records relegated to this damp and dismal place.

  "If you don't want that Allison woman to shut you down, Mother Elizabeth, you really ought to do something about these records," Lucas warned as Meredyth stumbled over boxes.

  She had had to literally climb over and past obstacles ranging from retired podiums and old furniture to ancient garden tools, box springs, and file boxes. Amid the leftovers of a lifetime in the convent, on neatly stacked crates, they finally found some promising old files labeled with black marker. They had to wipe away cobwebs and beetle debris to read the labels.

  Lucas had gotten no answer from the elderly nun or Sister Audrey, and staring across the dimly lit room to where they stood in the doorway, he read a glazed dull look in the old woman's eyes, and a pained look in the younger woman's gaze. Shaking her head as if looking at a problem without solution, Mother Elizabeth chose to leave so as to not look at the problem a moment longer. Sister Audrey ducked out with her.

  By this time, wheezing had evolved into sneezing for both of them, but Lucas had developed a case of nonstop asthmatic coughing. His eyes began to tear up from the particle dust and mites.

  A handheld flashlight helped somewhat in the poorly lit area in which they worked.

  "Here! I've found 1984," announced Meredyth.

  She pulled the box from beneath another as Lucas held and replaced the one that had sat atop it. Lucas then took the box from Meredyth's grasp, and he carried it up the stone steps, into a corridor, and out into the open church where at least some air circulated. He placed the box on a pew and Meredyth rifled through it, looking for any court papers with her signature on them. She found none. "I'm trying to recall if I had any of these cases, but its all a blur. So long ago. None of these documents would have required a social worker's signature, so I have no way of tracking it from these files."

  "What about this Lauralie Blodgett? You find a file on her? Wouldn't you recall a name like Blodgett?"

  "No, I don't remember the name. The mother was likely unmarried...likely using her maiden name."

  "Of course."

  "All the same, I'm looking for Blodgett now." Meredyth began digging for the Blodgett file, but it was not in alphabetical order wh
ere it should be. She rifled through, searching other possible ways it could be filed, under L for Lauralie, under B for Blood. "Nothing... it's not here," she finally concluded. "I'd hoped to locate a photo of her at the very least."

  "Maybe it's been filed in the wrong year," he suggested.

  "Or maybe Lauralie got at it a second time. Maybe she took it with her when she left this place."

  "Perhaps."

  "Do you think she sent us here? That she was the sexpot in the schoolgirl uniform Tebo took the package from?" Lucas continued to wheeze and cough. During a lull, he managed to say, "Guess I gotta return this file box to the basement. Can't leave it here."

  "You don't want to get on Mother Elizabeth's bad side."

  "No ma'am, not never...."

  Lucas returned the box, leaving Meredyth standing alone in the central church, staring up at the larger-than- life, yet lifelike depiction of Christ on the cross. She had been raised Catholic herself, and it had been literally years since her last confession. She had traded in her religion for her scientific bent and her profession, and she knew it. She had broken every vow, and she was now sleeping with and contemplating marrying a Cherokee Indian named Lucas Stonecoat whose beliefs were a mix of mysticism and native folklore. A man who found God in all of nature and whose own nature held a spiritual side that was loving and caring on the one hand, but quickly moved to anger and vengeance if he saw an injustice. He was a man also capable of great wrath, and the law of blood—vengeance for a relative— ran deep in his Cherokee genes. She had seen it over the years, his ability and willingness to track a man down and kill his prey, and walk away without remorse. It was what made him an exemplary detective, but more than once, she had seen him lose control under extreme conditions, as when he thought her life in danger. Lucas had rescued her from death on more than one occasion. He had been the one she called in any crisis.

  Lucas credited his upbringing largely to his grandfather, who believed in the old ways and customs. A shaman of his people, Keeowskowee had made of Lucas a strong and determined man, yet Lucas's childhood remained as far from her upbringing as that of an Eskimo.

  With these thoughts and misgivings swirling about in her head, Meredyth crossed herself and knelt before the crucifix. Then from behind, she heard someone's footfall. She wheeled, imagining it to be Sister Audrey come to check on their progress, or Mother Elizabeth, but no one materialized.

  "Is there someone there?" she asked.

  No answer.

  The silence that had been the silence of this place only deepened. "Is there anyone here?" she asked more empahtically. This time, when she received no answer, she returned her gaze to the face of Christ. Once more, to her rear, she heard a sound, and this time, she watched a shadow, someone in a hooded cloak, a priest who stepped into the confessional booth. Had the noise she heard been the priest? Had he moved that swiftly?

  Was it a sign? she wondered. She took a step toward the confessional, thinking it would do her good to go to confession, but with Lucas about to return any moment, she stopped shy of the coffin like booth. She could hear the man inside yawning.

  Then, out of the side of her eye, she saw movement again, a young woman dressed in the uniform of the convent school darting from a hiding place and out the door at the front of the church. It might have been any one of the girls she and Lucas had interviewed.

  Was it perhaps Rachel? Wanting to tell Meredyth something out of Mother Elizabeth's earshot? "Wait!" Meredyth rushed for the exit, but she was stopped at the holy water fount, seeing the unusual cigar-shaped item in the water, trifling swirls of blood creating a mosaic over what appeared a human finger. Like a pale dead fish, the finger floated just below the surface, submerged yet floating above the bottom of the fount—the source where the holy water originated, at least in the symbolism of the Church.

  Whoever had left the ugly gift in the fountainhead knew its symbolic meaning, she was sure.

  "What's going on?" asked Lucas, startling her, suddenly at her side.

  "Look, the holy water."

  Lucas groaned at what he saw there. "Damn it, they've followed us here; they've been on our heels."

  "I heard her back here, and I saw her dash out the front. It was a girl in the school uniform."

  He used a handkerchief to fish out the right index finger presumably left by the girl she had seen scuttling out into the rain.

  "The confessional booth, Lucas!"

  He turned to look down the aisle at the booth. "What about it?"

  "He's in the booth! Dressed as a priest."

  Lucas rushed the confessional and tore open the door to a wide-eyed, startled young priest whose glasses fell off when he threw up his hands to fend off the attack. Lucas pulled him from the confessional as he pleaded for mercy.

  His hands tightly fisted in the folds of the man's robes, Lucas demanded, "Who are you?"

  "Sandy brown hair, glasses, but no mole on his cheek, Lucas."

  "I-I'm Father...W-Will-yam," he choked out.

  From behind them, Lucas heard Sister Audrey shout simultaneously, "It's Father Will! Don't hurt him!"

  Mother Elizabeth rushed in next, shouting, "This is outrageous conduct, Detective. This isn't your reservation chapel. I will kindly ask that you two please leave Our Lady, now!"

  Lucas, realizing the mistaken identity, desperately tried to smooth out the man's robes, and he reached into the booth to fetch his glasses, apology following apology. "Sorry, Father William."

  "I apologize as well, but we had provocation," Meredyth defended. "Show them what was floating in their holy water, Lucas."

  Lucas held up the severed index finger.

  "My dear God," moaned Father William as he straightened his glasses and inched away from Lucas, shrinking away. "I just used the fount to cross myself, and I saw nothing in the water when I entered."

  Mother Elizabeth and Sister Audrey collectively gasped at what they saw in Lucas's possession. "Is it..." began Mother Elizabeth.

  Meredyth nodded. "Most likely from Mira Lourdes."

  "Found in our holy water..." Elizabeth slumped to a pew seat.

  "Defiling the holy water?" asked Audrey.

  "Yes, afraid so. I saw someone in the uniform of your school race out the door, but I didn't get a clear look at her."

  The old woman placed a hand across her heart. "Give me strength." Sister Audrey located a handheld cardboard fan. "Did you find the records you wanted?" Elizabeth asked.

  "I'm afraid not, and Lauralie appears to have stolen her file, Mother Superior," Meredyth explained.

  "Theft, defiled holy water," muttered William. "One would almost have to believe that Lauralie had come for a visit. What is your interest in her records? Why are you here?"

  "We'll let Mother Superior fill you in. It's a long story."

  "Apparently, William, she's become involved in a most unsavory affair with someone who has abducted and killed a woman."

  "Our Lauralie? Involved with a murderer?"

  "Do you have a photo of Lauralie anywhere, Mother Elizabeth?" asked Lucas.

  Again Elizabeth had to defer to Sister Audrey, asking if she had any ideas on the subject. Sister Audrey instantly replied, "The yearbook, Mother Superior. She'll be in it. I'll bring one from the storage closet."

  Elizabeth caught her breath and formally introduced Father William Stoughton to Lucas and Meredyth. "Father William comes twice a week to take confessions, to look in on us, make reports to the bishop, and to dine on our food, right, Father?"

  "That's right, Mother Superior. Dr. Sanger, Detective, if there is anything I can do to help"—Stoughton brought the hem of his robe up to meet the glasses in his hand and began cleaning the lenses, lifting them back to his eyes, testing, cleaning again, as he spoke—"anything whatever, don't hesitate to contact me at St. Pete's Cathedral downtown."

  "Did you know Lauralie Blodgett well when she resided here?" asked Lucas, immediately taking him up on his offer.

  "Not really. I he
lp those who help themselves, so I hardly noticed Lauralie. She was sullen, moody, you know how she was, Mother Elizabeth. Extremely hard to reach."

  "Yes, she was all those things," Elizabeth agreed.

  Father William continued, seeming anxious to distance himself from Lauralie. "She refused any notion of confessing her sins, told me she had none. Imagine it. I tried to counsel her, of course, but she remained stone-hearted, insisting she had nothing whatever to confess. I explained the doctrine of Original Sin to her, of course, the blood of the lamb, all of it, but she remained adamant that she was without sin; that she was sinned against."

  Meredyth took Lucas aside for a moment to confer. "Should we call in Chang, have the church vestibule and fount cordoned off as a crime scene?"

  He shook his head. "They won't find anything useful, and we'll only disturb the rhythm of this place more than we already have. I say we keep it to ourselves for now. But how is this girl so closely shadowing us that we don't see her?"

  "Hell, you're the Indian. You tell me. But I did see a girl. It could've been Lauralie, but it could as well have been Rachel, or one of the others. Actually, at first, I was sure it was Rachel, wanting to add to her testimony, you know, but I was stopped at the sight of the bloody holy water."

  "Another defiled religious holy item," he muttered. "A pattern emerges."

  Sister Audrey returned with the yearbook, two pages already marked for their perusal. Lucas and Meredyth studied the two photos of Lauralie Blodgett that had made the yearbook, her head-shot graduation photo and a photo taken with her entire class. She was a striking young woman who appeared far older than eighteen years of age. In the full body shot, it was evident that she had filled out her Catholic school uniform, and she exuded sex appeal even in the frumpy plaid skirt and suspenders over a white blouse.

  "No way Father William didn't notice her," whispered Lucas to Meredyth. "Given his nervousness when asked about her, I wouldn't put it past him to have put a move on her."