The Missing Madonna

by Carol Anne O'Marie

  “Excuse me, I must have dialed incorrectly,” she said. “I was calling Erma’s apartment.”

  “This is Erma’s apartment,” he slurred, without any explanation.

  “Is she home?” Mary Helen’s heart raced expectantly.

  “No.” There was a long pause. Even in his fuzzy state, Finn must have realized some explanation was due. “I miss her,” he said. “I was just here so I’d be near where she was.” The phone went dead.

  From the hallway Mary Helen could hear the quick, unmistakable slap of Sister Therese pacing. She must be waiting to use the line. If Mary Helen dialed while she was at the end of the hallway, Therese would think it was still the same call. Quickly, she dialed Ree’s number, hoping she’d be talking by the time Therese paced back by the door. Fortunately the woman answered right away.

  Feeling as though she had pulled a coup, Mary Helen identified herself. Ree sniffled.

  “How are you feeling?” Mary Helen asked, remembering Ree’s cold.

  “Terrible!” She blew her nose. Right into the receiver, from the sound of it.

  “You did hear the good news about your mother?” Mary Helen asked, determined to cheer up Erma’s daughter.

  “What news?”

  “That she called Mr. Finn.”

  Marie coughed. “I heard it, but I don’t believe it.”

  “Pardon me?” Mary Helen wondered if she’d heard correctly.

  “I don’t believe it!” Ree shouted without, Mary Helen noticed, a sniffle or a cough. “I’ve been thinking about it since I heard. Mommy would have called me, not him. She would know how upset I am. Yesterday I called Auntie Barbara. She thinks so, too, and she’s worried. She says I should call that policeman and tell him.”

  In her mind’s eye, Mary Helen could see Inspector Honore’s face when he received that call. Poor fellow! On the other hand, she didn’t blame Barbara Quinn for being worried. The whole episode was so unlike Erma. Furthermore, if two of them expressed their concern to the inspector, he might give it more credence.

  Outside the phone booth, she could hear Therese’s pacing quicken, her circling narrow. Time was limited. Any moment, Therese would pop her head in the booth, smile stiffly, and ask, “How much longer will you be on the line?”

  “Why would Mr. Finn lie to us about the call?” Mary Helen asked, hoping Ree wouldn’t have an answer that made any sense. She had called wanting her own uneasiness to be relieved, not heightened.

  “I don’t know.” Ree blew her nose. “All I know is Mommy said to look at the picture of the Madonna.”

  Replacing the receiver, Mary Helen sat staring at the phone. For a moment she wondered why she’d given in to the temptation to call. To make herself feel better, of course. But if anything, she felt worse. Wasn’t it Mark Twain who had said, “It is easier to stay out than to get out”?

  How right you were, old boy, she thought, pushing open the phone-booth door.

  “At last!” Sister Therese sniffed and swept past her to the phone. Watching her, Mary Helen smiled. She couldn’t help thinking of that old expression—how did it go?—“She jumped on it like a duck on a June bug.”

  Well, if nothing else worthwhile had come of her phone-calling, she had at least given the Boscaccis a twenty-minute reprieve.

  “So there you are!” Eileen greeted her in the convent hallway. “You disappeared in a bit of a hurry.”

  From the inflection in Eileen’s voice, it could be hard for strangers to tell if that was a statement or a question. Knowing Eileen, however, she knew exactly which it was.

  “I wanted to make some phone calls.” Mary Helen shoved her glasses up the bridge of her nose and stared for effect. “Private phone calls.”

  Opening her gray eyes wide, Eileen stared back. “I can’t get good old Erma Duran off my mind either.”

  Mary Helen winced. When would she ever learn? Trying to fool Eileen was hopeless. Trying to intimidate her was hopeless squared.

  “Did you find out anything new?” she asked.

  “A few things,” Mary Helen admitted. “For instance, Lucy Lyons led me to believe there could be some truth in what Ree told us last week. Mr. Finn was in Erma’s apartment, either asleep or in his cups, or both. And Marie Duran—Ree—thinks Finn is lying about her mother’s call.”

  Eileen pursed her lips and frowned. “Oh, dear!” she said. Suddenly she brightened. “As they say back home, ‘bad news comes in threes.’ ” She counted on her chubby fingers: “Lucy, Finn, and Marie. The next news you hear will be good news!”

  “I hope you’re right,” Mary Helen said. A cold draft whipped down the convent hallway. She shivered.

  “Someone must be walking on your grave,” Eileen whispered.

  Mary Helen scowled. “Someone simply opened the back door. Always-prepared Sister Therese, no doubt, is unlocking it for Allan Boscacci.”

  “To each her own,” she said.

  The groan of the foghorn echoed through the building, reminding both nuns that the shoreline had vanished beneath the dense blanket of gray. But Mary Helen assured herself that the shore was there under the shifting fog. Just as the answers to Erma’s sudden disappearance were there somewhere under the confusion that surrounded it.

  Eileen might be wrong about her shivering, but she hoped her friend was right about the next bit of news being good. Mary Helen had several items on her list of things to do today, but they would just have to wait. Right then and there, she decided to spend the morning in the Hanna Memorial Library. She’d do some research on Erma’s Madonna. If the woman had said to look there for answers, perhaps someone should. But first she must phone Inspector Honore and tell him Erma was at least alive.

  * * *

  Hearing from Don Juan Ron the first thing on Monday morning did nothing to improve Kate Murphy’s disposition. “Hey, you don’t even have a case here!” She knew she sounded short-tempered, but it had been a bad night. Besides, she was still annoyed with him from last Friday. “And, furthermore, why didn’t you tell me you had heard from the lady before I made a fool of myself—”

  “Because I just found out this morning,” Honore interrupted, “when the Sister called me.” She heard him crack his gum. “But the whole thing just doesn’t set right.”

  “Why are you calling me? If you don’t have a case, then surely we don’t.”

  “Excuse me!” Honore’s mood didn’t sound too terrific either. “I just thought since these nuns are friends of yours . . .”

  Kate didn’t like his tone. In fact, much as she hated to face it, this morning she didn’t like anything or anybody. “Listen, Ron,” she said as patiently as she could, “I just got here. I still have my coat on. Let me call you back in an hour or so.”

  “Better yet, Kate”—she could tell that Honore, too, was trying to simmer down—“why don’t I get some deli sandwiches and pick you up around noon? We can have lunch out by the Marina. That way we can eat, talk, and envy the way the other half lives.”

  Despite herself, Kate laughed. Honore pressed his advantage, “I’ll even spring for some potato chips, those natural ones,” he said, displaying some of the charm that had made him a legend.

  “Make them the Hawaiian kind,” Kate said, “and you have a date.”

  “Was that our favorite missing person again? Or did I mistake the vibes?” Gallagher asked when she hung up.

  “Let me get a cuppa, Denny. Then we’ll talk.” Kate walked slowly to the coffee urn at the back of the detail. Relax, relax, she told herself. You can’t bring your personal life to the job. But it was pretty hard not to.

  Last night she’d realized that the honeymoon was definitely over. After they had come home from the Bay-to-Breakers Race, she and Jack had fought. He’d even raised his voice. Usually patient Jack had hollered at her! She could feel tears sting her eyes.

  “You’re taking your goddamn frustration out on me,” he had yelled. “And what’s even worse, you’re making yourself miserable.”

  Sh
e couldn’t even remember what had started the quarrel. Although if she were perfectly honest, she knew wanting to be pregnant was at the bottom of it. She also knew, even as she shouted back, that he was right. That didn’t make how she felt any easier. If anything, it made it worse. Even this morning there was still a coolness between them.

  “Bad weekend?” Gallagher asked when she sat down.

  Kate nodded, reluctant to talk about it. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. Careful not to burn her tongue, she took a tiny sip of coffee. She could feel her partner’s eyes riveted on her. Doubtless he was debating whether or not to let it lie. She braced herself, sure of what his decision would be.

  “You and Jack have a fight?”

  “Last night, to be exact. How did you know?” Hastily Kate brushed a tear from her cheek.

  “How did I know? I’ve been married as long as you’ve been alive. I know the signs.’ He offered her a piece of the Danish he had in a paper bag. “It happens in the best of families. Couples who don’t fight don’t make it That’s a well-known fact.”

  Gallagher stopped to take a bite of the sweet roll, chew, and swallow. “The important part is, did you make up?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “Oh, you should make up. Making up is the best part of fighting.” He licked raspberry off his fingers. “Don’t worry. By tonight old Jackie-boy will be full of remorse.”

  Kate knew her partner said that to make her feel better. Somehow it didn’t.

  * * *

  Inspector Ron Honore picked Kate up promptly at noon. A few minutes later they were parked at the Marina Green. Honore had pulled the car in facing the Bay. Even if they were going to see how the other half lived, he obviously had no intention of staring at their homes while he ate.

  Following the time-honored rule that a diet drink cancels out calories, he handed her a poor boy and a diet Pepsi. All morning Kate had been so filled with a dull ache that she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She chewed in silence.

  In front of them, joggers and kite flyers, oblivious of the weather, enjoyed the wide apron of lawn around the yacht harbor. Behind them, along Marina Boulevard, were the luxurious two-story stucco homes with their million-dollar views of Alcatraz, Angel Island, and the Golden Gate Bridge. Although today the islands were barely visible and a wall of fog had nearly obliterated the bridge. Only the bright orange tips of the trusses pierced the grayness. Kate wondered foolishly if couples constantly surrounded by such changing beauty ever fought.

  “This thing is really starting to bug me, Kate.” Honore wiped mayonnaise from the side of his mouth and broke into her thoughts. “According to your friend Sister Mary Helen, Al Finn heard from the missing woman last Thursday.”

  Kate tried to sound interested. “So what’s bugging you? She’s no longer missing.”

  “Technically you’re right. This one is solved. That’s all I need, you’re thinking. But the daughter, Marie, signed the missing-person report. She claims Finn is making it up, In fact, she called me this morning right after the nun did to tell me so.”

  Kate swallowed the hunk of sourdough roll that she had been chewing. “Why not get the phone number from Finn and just call the woman back?”

  “Brilliant! And I thought of that too.” Honore wadded up the paper napkin, dug in the bag, and pulled out another sandwich. “Want half?” he offered.

  Mouth full, Kate shook her head. At least the mystery of why the seams in Honore’s suit jacket were straining was solved. “So why don’t you call?” she asked again.

  “Because Finn said the woman wouldn’t leave a number.”

  “Isn’t that a little odd?”

  “It seemed a lot odd to me, but Finn tells me she doesn’t want her kids to find her. My common sense tells me,” Honore said, “to forget the whole thing. But in my gut”—he pointed to his belt buckle—“it doesn’t feel right.”

  Kate resisted the urge to say that maybe it was the second poor boy and not the case that was affecting his gut. “That happens,” she said instead. “So what can I do for you?”

  “Just listen, mostly. Tell me what you think.” Honore paused for a large swallow of Pepsi. “Since I last talked to you, I’ve double-checked. Finn, as far as the computer is concerned, is a good, upstanding citizen. Too good to be called a liar, if you know what I mean. Not married, no dependents. In the neighborhood they tell me he gambles a little at the track—nothing too big. Loses mostly, but the guy can cover his debts. Sometimes slowly, but he covers. Also, I hear he likes women. But the old geezer’s entitled, right?”

  Kate rewrapped the second half of her sandwich for later. Maybe she wasn’t as hungry as she’d thought “What women?” she asked.

  “No mention of the Duran woman, if that’s what you’re wondering about. If there is anything there at all, the two of them are being very discreet. As far as the computer and the neighbors are concerned, that woman is a solid-gold saint. Pays her bills, keeps appointments, helps people out.

  “Now her three kids, on the other hand—they get mixed reviews, all bad. But the daughter is more to be pitied than censured, as the old lyric goes.”

  “It’s no wonder Mama doesn’t want to hear from them,” Kate said.

  “Right, except that the bigger conflict seems to be between Finn and the woman’s kids, especially the daughter, this Marie. She is sure he is guilty of something, even if there isn’t anything concrete to go on.”

  “It sounds to me more like a case for a family counselor than for Missing Persons.” Kate picked up several crisp brown crumbs that had fallen on the seat of the car and put them in the deli bag.

  “You haven’t had the chance to see any of these people, I guess.” Honore wadded up his second napkin.

  “As a matter of fact, I did meet Finn. Gallagher and I stopped by after work the other night.”

  “That’s what you meant this morning by making a fool of yourself.” Honore looked so pleased that for a moment Kate was afraid he was going to hug her. “Well, what did you think?”

  “To tell you the truth, the guy seemed nice enough. Cooperative, et cetera.”

  “Did you have a chance to look around?” Honore stopped. “Of course not. How could you? What excuse would you use to go nosing through the guy’s restaurant?”

  “He didn’t ask for any, so we didn’t give any.”

  This time Honore did reach over and hug her. It was warm and hard and so unexpected that Kate was too startled to resist.

  “Sorry,” Honore said, suddenly aware of what he was doing. He ran his hand over his bald head. “I hope you don’t think . . .”

  Kate shook her head, debating whether or not to tell him that the only thing she did think was, I wish you were Jack. She decided to spare his ego.

  Regaining his practiced cool, Honore cleared his throat. “Kate, you’re a real pal,” he said. “Did you find anything?”

  “Nothing significant.” Kate, too, was all business. “Only that Finn’s bistro has a fairly clean kitchen, a damp basement, and that he offered to give one of Erma’s sons enough money to go to St, Louis to look for his mother. Or so he said.”

  Deep in thought, the two stared out over the Marina. Dozens of blue and white yachts bobbed gently in their berths. Hungry gulls circled the masts, then, wheeling over the grass, landed on the piers, impatient for the chilly lunchtime crowd to go back to work.

  Several silent walkers bundled up against the cold clip-clopped along the broad sidewalk. Watching a sweatsuited mother pushing a toddler in a stroller, Kate felt a twinge of envy and an urge to phone Jack.

  “What do you think?” Honore asked finally.

  “I think I had better get back to work,” she said, her tone brisk.

  “No, about this case, I mean.” He offered her a piece of gum, which she declined. Honore had changed flavors. Kate couldn’t imagine that Juicy Fruit would taste any better on top of salami and mortadella than spearmint. It might be even worse!

  “I don�
�t think there is any case, Ron. Unless you found something in the Duran woman’s apartment to indicate that she left under duress.”

  Honore shook his head and shoved a stick of gum into his mouth. “I was in the apartment. Nothing there. No signs of a struggle. Everything in order, neat as a pin. In fact, that’s the funny part. She didn’t even unpack from her trip to New York or take any clothes with her to St. Louis, according to the daughter anyway. Everything is there, including that medal the nun found. Much as I hate to admit it, I’m beginning to agree with the kid, and I use the term lightly. Something is out of sync.”

  “I agree.” Despite herself, Kate was getting interested. She began to twist a thick lock of hair. “A woman who is exact about paying bills, keeping appointments, whose apartment is as neat as a pin, would not go off without putting her affairs in order. And no woman in her right mind would go away without putting some clothes and makeup in a suitcase.”

  “Unless something spooked her and she ran.” Honore hit the steering wheel with the palm of his hand. “But strictly speaking, that’s not a police matter. Apparently she isn’t missing. Or harmed.”

  “True. I guess the only thing you can do, Ron, is let it go.”

  “I wish that daughter would stop calling me to talk about some damn picture.”

  “What picture?”

  “You haven’t seen the apartment, have you?” Honore checked his watch. “I could get you there and back to the Hall in forty minutes.”

  “I’d need to make a phone call first.”

  “I’ll stop at the Safeway.” He motioned vaguely toward Gas House Cove. “I know they have a pay phone in their parking lot.”

  Honore looked so eager that Kate didn’t have the heart to turn him down. Her phone call was quick. Jack, his office said, was out.

  * * *

  “It’s only Our Lady of Perpetual Help.” Kate stood next to Honore in Erma’s icy bedroom. Finn had been most accommodating about letting them in. “There’s an icon like that in almost every Catholic church in the City. What did the daughter say about it?”

  “She said the secret to her mother’s disappearance is in that picture. Now what the hell do you think that means?”