“Perhaps she had another appointment.”
“Sure as the sun will rr-ise”—her r’s were really rolling now—“I know she’s into this Erma business. And don’t ask me if I called around. Sister Anne and I have called her office, her dentist, her eye doctor—anyplace we thought she might have an appointment. And the other OWLs as well. No one has any idea where she might be.”
“You realize, Sister, that, strictly speaking, this is not my case. It’s Inspector Honore’s.”
“Sister Anne is on the horn this minute, trying to get through to the Inspector.” Obviously Eileen had thought of everything. Kate was undoubtedly her last hope.
“What exactly is it you want me to do?” she asked and braced herself for the answer.
For the first time there was a long pause on the other end of the line. “I really do not know,” Eileen said. Kate noticed a slight quiver in her voice. “I just know my dear friend could be in some danger. And I cannot possibly sit by and let it happen.”
“I understand how you’re feeling, Sister.” Kate had picked that phrase up in a communications workshop, although she wasn’t at all sure she did understand. Sister Eileen must be frantic. She had never heard the round, jovial woman sounding so distraught “But I really don’t know what it is you want me to do.” There was another long pause. “Sister, are you all right?”
For several seconds there was no answer. “Sister?” Kate repeated.
Apparently Sister Eileen was mulling over something. “Just fine, dear,” she said, suddenly calm. “I realize, as you say, that this is not your case, so there is really nothing you can do. Thank you for listening.” Abruptly she hung up.
Kate stared at the dead receiver. “Damn!” She began to thumb through the phone book, looking for the number of the Sisters’ Residence.
“What happened?” Gallagher asked.
“I’ll tell you in a minute.” Kate dialed. The phone rang twenty times before someone finally answered.
“Sister Eileen is in the library,” a polite voice answered. “Would you like that number?”
By the time the voice found the number, gave it to Kate, and she redialed, Sister Eileen had just left.
“Double damn!” Kate slammed down the receiver.
“What was that all about?” Gallagher stood up.
“Let’s go, Denny.” Kate grabbed her coat. “I’ll explain on the way to the bistro.”
“The bistro? Why the bistro?” Apparently Gallagher wasn’t moving until he had some sort of explanation.
“Because that seems to be the only logical place Sister Eileen would go, and she was suddenly too calm for comfort—my comfort.”
“Sister Eileen?” Gallagher sat back down. “One’s bad enough; now we got the second one. And we have no damn business at all with either of them nuns. I told you not to get involved. It’s not our case. Stick to your own business.”
“Suit yourself.” Kate took her purse from her bottom drawer. “And I know you’re right, Denny, but I have the uneasy feeling that sticking to my own business may have caused Sister Eileen to make our business hers. Frankly, I couldn’t live with myself if I went by the book and let something happen to the old dears.”
Kate crossed the detail, heels clicking. Behind her she heard a familiar grunting noise. Gallagher!
“I thought you weren’t coming.” She pushed the Down button on the elevator and tried not to smile.
“Goddamn it! Get that smirk off your face.” Gallagher paused to light the stub of his cigar. “By rights, we should let those nuns get themselves killed. Serve them right! But you say you couldn’t live with yourself. What about me, huh? What do you think, that the younger generation’s got an edge on this guilt business?” He pointed his finger at her. “Hey, I could tell you stories about guilt, Katie-girl, that you wouldn’t believe!”
* * *
The moment Mary Helen heard the voice, she recognized it. She was not surprised. A little saddened maybe, but not surprised.
“I know you’re in here somewhere.”
From her corner, she watched him squinting, trying to adjust his eyes to the dimness of the basement.
How long would it take him to spot her?
“There’s no way out, you know,” the voice rasped.
Mind whirling, she crouched more deeply into the shadows. Think calmly! she told herself, ignoring the trickle of perspiration that ran down her back.
“I’ll find you. Why don’t you just come out?” Finn coaxed. He was moving slowly toward the center of the room.
She watched him peer around the old ice machine. Her hand groped along the rough wall, searching to grasp something—anything. If only she could find a board, an old wrench, something she could hit him with. That always happened in her mystery stories. But there was nothing. Not even a loose board! Her heart jolted.
Mary Helen’s legs began to cramp. She shifted her weight and tried to think, but the only thing she could think about was the sound of her own heart hammering in her ears. She pulled in a deep breath to slow it down.
“Where are you? I know you’re here.” Finn moved closer. Mary Helen closed her eyes, clenched her damp hands more tightly, and tried to shrink into an invisible ball that the man would overlook.
Whether it was from cold or from fear, now her teeth were threatening to chatter. Her legs began to tremble. Mary Helen wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay crouched in the corner, waiting for death. Or even if she should.
What had Eileen said? “An Irish coward is an uncommon character!” If it was her time to go, by God, she would go with dignity, not quailing in some dusty corner. Squaring her shoulders, she steadied herself. Then, wondering briefly if she had more bravado than brains, she rose.
God, help me! she prayed, swallowing hard to keep her throat from closing. She knew from their longstanding relationship, He most certainly would.
“Here I am!” She hardly recognized her own forced voice.
Finn looked over, blinking. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, not unkindly. “I’m sorry it’s you.”
For a moment the pair studied each other. The dim light from the bulb bounced off the bald V’s Finn’s hair outlined on the top of his head.
“I rang your apartment bell when I came,” Mary Helen said, as if trespassing were the problem.
“I guess that’s what woke me up.” Finn shifted the pillow. “I was taking a nap upstairs on Erma’s bed. Makes me feel closer to her now that she’s gone.” Mary Helen remained silent.
“I’m sorry it’s you,” he repeated, “but I should have known it would be. That business about the phone call didn’t put you off, did it?”
Woodenly, Mary Helen shook her head, wishing momentarily that it had. “I was sorry when I realized it was you too,” she said slowly. “What stumps me, however, is why, Mr. Finn. I always had the feeling that you loved Erma.”
“I did. I still do.” Finn blinked. “And I miss her. It was an accident. It really was. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never would have hurt her on purpose.”
“What kind of an accident?”
“I lost my temper.” Perspiration broke out on Finn’s forehead. “She fell and cracked her head against the bed and . . . I didn’t mean to.” He rocked nervously on the soles of his feet.
Mary Helen inched over, determined not to glance at the open door leading up to the kitchen. If she could just keep him talking, keep inching over, maybe, just maybe, she could make a dash for it before . . . No! She refused to think about the pillow hanging limply from his hands.
“What could Erma possibly have done to make you lose your temper?” She cleared her throat. “She always seems . . . seemed so accommodating.”
“Yeah.” Finn glared at her. “Especially with those kids of hers. She was goofy about those kids. You know her checks had been missing.”
He stopped, waiting for Mary Helen to nod.
“She blamed me. Me! Just because I had a few gambling debts.”
“And you didn’t take them?”
His nostrils flared. “Of course I didn’t. That’s what started the argument. I told her it was Buddy. She was shocked. She tells me Buddy wouldn’t do such a thing. The little twirp!”
Finn’s eyes narrowed. “I told her all her kids were nuts. Then we really started to fight. Erma brought up an old story about me doing something to Ree when she was a kid.”
Keep him talking, Mary Helen thought, shifting her feet ever so slightly. “Ree told me as much.” She kept her voice even. “And you’re saying you didn’t?”
He stared at her in amazement. “Damn right, I didn’t! Actually it was Junior who knocked his sister down. I thought the kids were lost, so I went looking for them. He was on top of her by the time I got there. Buddy was looking on. I’m sure she didn’t tell you that part.
“I got him off her. Tommy came around the comer. When she sees him, Ree says I was the one who knocked her down.” He shrugged. “We never could figure out just what happened or whose fault it was or exactly what the kid had in mind. I never seen Tommy so mad. He walloped the daylights out of Junior right there at the track. Smacked the sister good and hard a couple of times, too, just in case.”
“Did you explain that to Erma?”
“She never wanted to talk about it. Tommy—I know he was ready to kill both kids! Somehow Erma blamed that on me too.” He shook his head. “You know, when she was around she never let him lay a hand on Ree or the little guy. And that Buddy sure could have used it. If you ask me, that’s why the poor guy drank.” He stopped to catch his breath.
“Yet I couldn’t help loving her. But she wouldn’t marry me after Tom died. Her kids, especially the daughter, didn’t like seeing me with their mother. And so Erma said she hated my temper and my drinking, but I know the kids had a lot to do with it.” Finn shifted the pillow.
Watching him, Mary Helen’s stomach roiled. She wasn’t even a foot closer to the door. “Do you have a hard time controlling your temper?” It was the only question that came to her, although she had witnessed the answer.
Finn looked and sounded puzzled, almost as if he were talking about someone else. “It happens when I’m drinking, mostly. I can’t seem to help it. Something just happens in my head. I only hit her once or twice, I guess, in all the years I’ve known her. And that was in these last few years. I been drinking more.” Finn’s eyes were blinking almost uncontrollably. “I told her I was sorry. I tried to make it up to her. I let her live here, work in my place. I tell you, I loved the woman.”
“I’m sure you did.” Mary Helen tried to soothe the man and not look shocked. No wonder the subtle mention of the picture to Ree. Erma didn’t want to upset her daughter. Good old Erma didn’t want to upset anyone. After all, Finn was her security; yet she must have feared that someday Finn’s drinking, coupled with his unbridled rage, would cause her harm.
“What made you come back here?” It was Finn’s turn to ask questions.
“The picture, really.” Suddenly her mouth was so dry, she was having trouble getting it around the words. “Erma said that if anything happened to her, we should look to the picture.” She stopped to swallow. “At first, I couldn’t make anything of it. This week I was doing some research and I remembered you telling us your name is Alphonsus after Alphonsus Liguori, founder of the Redemptorists. Our Lady of Perpetual Help is a special devotion of the Redemptorists. The picture was enshrined at their convent. It was the only connection that made any sense. But there was something else,” she added as he made a movement.
“The fact that I remembered your ice machine was leaning. Allan Boscacci, a fellow who fixes our electrical problems, says machines should be flat.” Mary Helen knew she was babbling. From the look hardening in Finn’s eyes, she realized her time was limited.
She shifted a few inches closer to the staircase and tried to stall. “Always, always, they should be flat, Allan said. And I was just checking and, sure enough . . .” Edging over, she pointed toward the new concrete square beneath the ice maker. “It seems unlikely that you would put a new piece of floor in crooked unless you were in a very big hurry.
“Won’t the cook be coming soon?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.
“I locked the front door and turned the CLOSED sign out.” The voice was cold, detached.
Mary Helen looked over at Finn. His eyes slid from the concrete floor up to her face.
The movement was so swift that Mary Helen was shocked to feel the pillow over her face. She gasped, sucking in air, fighting against the pressure backing her up, forcing her against the rough basement wall. Grunting, she moved her head from side to side, struggling to escape the softness covering her mouth, pushing her glasses into the bridge of her nose.
“Do not go gentle . . . Old age should burn and rave . . . Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Crazily, the words popped into her mind as she clawed at Finn’s strong hands. She could feel his flesh under her nails. Desperately she tried to push against the blackness that was smothering her.
Slowly consciousness began to slip away. Her limbs felt limp and tingly, unable to support her. Her ears were ringing. So this is what dying is like, she thought, hardly feeling the wall behind her.
A moment of passing and she would awaken to lightness and peace, where all mysteries would be solved. O Christ, Christ, come quickly! . . . Jesu, hearts light . . . She couldn’t help smiling as she slipped into the whirling blackness.
High-pitched shouts, the scuffling of feet, the thud of blows, and Caroline swearing like a stevedore convinced Mary Helen she had not yet entered paradise. Her head throbbed. Beneath her the floor was cold and hard.
Painfully she opened her eyes. Through cracked glasses she could see Noelle, Lucy, Caroline, all pulling and kicking a cowering Mr. Finn. Sister Anne held tight to his shirttails, and dear Eileen had a firm grip on his one long, thin piece of hair.
“Freeze!” Kate, crouched in shooting position, barked from the top of the stairs. Gallagher and Honore flanked her.
“I said Freeze! Before you kill the guy!” Mary Helen heard her shout. Closing her eyes, she surrendered once again to the swirling dark.
Friday, May 25
Feast of Venerable Bede, Priest and Doctor
Even before she opened her eyes, Sister Mary Helen knew where she was. The Lysol smell, the slippery feel of a plastic sheet on a hard mattress, the sound of crepe soles on waxed floors. Although she hadn’t been in the hospital since she’d had her gall-bladder attack thirty years before, the earmarks were unmistakable and unforgettable.
What was she doing here? Then she remembered—Erma, the basement, Mr. Finn, the pillow. God help me! she thought, aware that indeed He had. She lay quietly for several moments, telling Him just how grateful she was. And although she was sorely tempted, she made no rash promises to reform. God and she had been friends too long for either of them to be fooled.
As her mind cleared she realized that her head throbbed and her neck was stiff and sore. Her eyelids felt stuck together. Slowly she forced them open. Morning sun flooded the room. Eileen, the rosary beads still in her hands, dozed in a hardback chair. Anne, her back to the bed, stared out between the Venetian blinds, apparently studying the commuter traffic in the street below.
“Where am I?” Mary Helen said, only because it seemed like the right thing to say.
Both nuns rushed to her bedside, smiling, squeezing her hands. Poor Eileen’s face was pale and she looked exhausted. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” she said, tears in her eyes. “Don’t ever give us a scare like that again!”
“She’s awake,” Anne called down the hallway. Suddenly the antiseptic room was alive with people, all talking at once.
“Thank goodness the Sisters called us.” Noelle, dressed in sailor-boy blue, sounded more like the admiral of the fleet.
“We were so worried about you.” Several strands of gray had escaped from Lucy’s braid. “But we shouldn’t have been.” She grinned. “When t
he going gets tough, the tough . . .” She stopped searching for an ending that fit.
“Pray like hell,” Caroline added, her wide-brimmed hat dipping toward Mary Helen.
At least Mary Helen thought it dipped. Everything looked a little fuzzy.
“Your spectacles, Sister dear,” Therese piped up then and fitted them over her ears. Good old efficient Therese had discovered the spare pair of glasses in her nightstand. Mary Helen cringed, momentarily picturing the drawer full of paperback mysteries Therese must also have discovered.
“They were on top of your desk, with this.” Sister Cecilia winked reassuringly. The college president handed her what looked like—for those who didn’t know better—a prayerbook in a plastic prayerbook cover.
“Thank you,” Mary Helen said indistinctly. Her mouth was suddenly dry and her eyelids heavy.
“It must be the medication,” she heard Eileen say as she drifted back into sleep.
* * *
When Mary Helen awoke again, her room was empty. The afternoon sun cast warm slits of light through the Venetian blinds and across her white top sheet. Quietly her door opened a few inches. She recognized the top of Eileen’s head and her gray eyes peeking in.
“Sleeping Beauty has awakened,” Eileen announced, pushing the door back.
By the time Mary Helen had put on her bifocals, Kate Murphy was at her side. Inspector Gallagher and Inspector Honore fidgeted uncomfortably at the foot of the bed. Gallagher, she noticed, kept his eyes anyplace but on her. Poor devil had probably never seen a nun in bed before, she mused. But then again, few people had.
“We’re so glad you’re safe.” Kate’s blue eyes were concerned. “When you’re feeling better well have to talk seriously about—”
“And thanks to you three, Mr. Finn is safe too,” Mary Helen interrupted, hoping Kate would attribute her rudeness to ill health. She did not want to hear the end of Kate’s sentence.
Kate laughed. “I have the feeling he was the happiest person in the whole basement to see us. I knew you’d be curious about the outcome.”
Mary Helen nodded, then wished she hadn’t Her head pounded.
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