by Lee Harris
“Sheer luck. I had planned to take that day off a long time ago. On any other weekday, I’d’ve been at the bank. But when you started asking me the same questions Tina had, I had to believe she had told you about me. How else could you have found out?”
“She never told me,” I said, feeling great sadness. “I just happened to think of you and I wanted to talk to someone who had been at the convent twenty years ago and who might be inclined to open up.”
“I guess it’s too bad,” she said. “I didn’t have anything against her, except that I didn’t want her ruining my life. As for you, don’t even think of telling this wild story to anyone else. The gun doesn’t exist. And after I have my last bite, I’m gone.”
“I don’t think so, Miss Cirillo,” Joe Fox said. He had gotten up from his chair and come to our table. He flashed his shield and said, “Keep your hands where I can see them. I’m placing you under arrest. You have the right to remain silent.”
27
I sat there for a long time after they left, my heart throbbing. I was glad it was over but it had been traumatic. Jack moved over to my table and held my hand while I tried to calm down.
“Did you hear?” I asked.
“Almost nothing. Joe had a recorder in the bag on the chair. It should have picked up everything. By the way, he said he intends to go to St. Stephen’s and apologize personally to Sister Joseph.”
“He should.” I drank most of my ice water.
“Maybe you’d like something a little stronger than that.”
“I don’t think so. I just wish it hadn’t turned out this way for Randy Collins. She picked the wrong person to question. It’s terrible that a life ended because of a bad choice.”
“She say anything about the tree?”
“She did. It was Randy’s way of trying to remove the cause of the trouble. She thought if she just got rid of it, the parties would have to come to an agreement.”
“She was right. Want some coffee?”
“I just want to go home. I have to call Joseph. There’s our waitress. Let’s get the bill.”
“Joe took care of it in advance. This is a free lunch.”
“I thought there was no such thing.”
“There isn’t. Think about what it cost you.”
I didn’t feel up to it.
Joseph drove down the next day at our invitation. It was two weeks since Mother’s Day, two weeks since I had called her to come and identify Randy’s body. On this day, I took my cousin Gene to mass and then brought him back to the house for dinner with all of us.
When Gene saw Joseph, old memories surfaced. “You’re a brown lady,” he said.
“Yes, I am. I’m a nun.”
“Kix is a brown lady.”
“Well, she used to be. That’s how I know her.”
“Two brown ladies,” he said with a big smile. “One, two.” Then he went back to playing with Eddie.
Joseph and I set the table and then got out of Jack’s way while he finished making our dinner. Two weeks ago had been Mother’s Day and he had made a treat we had not been able to enjoy fully.
“I’m sure you understand that I couldn’t tell you what I knew of Jane Anthony Cirillo,” Joseph said. “I had given her my word and I had no reason to believe that she had ever been in trouble again.”
“You don’t have to explain to me. But your absence at mass on Mother’s Day created a lot of questions. I suppose she called you and accused you of betraying her trust.”
“She did. We met about halfway between New York and the convent and by the time you called to ask me to come and identify the body of a novice, I was back home. I couldn’t believe there was a connection between Jane’s problem and the mysterious girl who was killed on your block. Jane wasn’t specific about who had told her the facts of her dismissal from St. Stephen’s, but in thinking about it, I realized that if she heard it from someone she believed to be a novice, she must have thought we were all talking about it, that it was common gossip. I can see why she was angry.”
“I’m really sorry I upset your family so much,” I said. “I’m sure Hope will never forgive me.”
“I’ve spoken to her. And I’ve talked to my brother for the first time in twenty years, Chris. If anything good has come of this, it’s that we’ve all resumed our family ties. I think he’s going to allow himself to be persuaded to visit us.”
“I suppose he feels bad about the deception.”
“He does, but it didn’t hurt me and it allowed some poor young woman to save face. I hope, whoever she is, that she’s happy.”
“And I’m sorry, too, that you felt you had to tell me facts about your own life that you obviously wanted to keep to yourself.”
“What difference does it make? I know who I am.”
And that’s the way we left it. We had a great meal and a lot of fun that afternoon. The day was long and Joseph left while it was still light. She called the next day to say that Detective Fox had traveled to the convent to offer his apologies to her, apologies she had accepted, graciously, I’m sure.
The gun that killed Randy Collins was never found, but the recording Detective Fox made in the restaurant was loud and clear. Jane confessed to everything in the police station.
The Greiners agreed, finally, to pay for the Kovaks’ driveway and the Kovaks reciprocated by buying a beautiful young tree and planting it well inside the Greiners’ property line. Only its shade will ever reach the Kovaks’ driveway.
It was probably several weeks later, when the heat of late spring started to entice us into the Oakwood pool, that I thought again about the involved relationships in Joseph’s family. They were all related to Randy. Tim was her natural father, his sisters were her aunts.
And then there was Cousin B.G. I had thought that B.G. and Joseph were first cousins related by blood. But as it turned out, there was no blood relationship between them at all. It made me wonder. And wondering made me smile.
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