by P. K. Abbot
“Merry Christmas, Michael,” the nun said. “This is always such a pleasant dinner, and you are such a nice man.” She put her arm on Mike’s shoulder, pulled him into an awkward embrace, and patted him on the back. She then waved and said hello to the group.
“Let’s start with a cocktail or wine before dinner,” Mike said to his guests.
Then Annie spoke. “While you are getting drinks, Michael, I will bring some hors d’oeuvres from the kitchen.” Annie got up and walked into the kitchen. Sister Ben followed her there.
“What may I do to help?” the nun asked.
“You may slice this pepper and celery for the crudités, Sister.”
“Oh, by the way, congratulations on receiving your degree.”
“Thank you, Sister.”
“Your parents must be very proud of you, Annie.”
Annie chuckled softly to herself. “I have been on my own for most my life, Sister. I really don’t have a family.”
“Oh?”
“I never knew my father, and my mother was never strong on relationships. Oh, I have had plenty of live-in uncles, usually for no more than two weeks at a time, but I have never had a family to speak of. I have never had a real family – at least, not a family to be proud of.”
“I am sorry, dear.”
“Don’t be, Sister. That was in the past. I was fortunate in a way. I knew what I wanted in life, and I knew what I had to do to get there. From the time that I was little, I did whatever odd job that I could, and I saved my money. In high school, I took the certification courses necessary to become an Emergency Medical Technician. Then I used that job, financial grants, and scholarships to pay for my college degree and my nursing certification. So, I did not need the support of that family that I never had. I was able to get here on my own.”
“You have a lot of grit to accomplish all of that, dear, but it must have been difficult to do it on your own. It must have been lonely.”
“Until I met Pete.” She smiled at the nun.
“Pete is a very special young man.”
“He is. From the moment when I met him, I knew he was a decent person – kind and dependable. I sensed a steadiness in him that had been missing from my own life. He is a rock actually. I am not used to that in my life.”
The nun just smiled at Annie.
“And I will tell you something else, Sister. Pete’s family all support each other. I’m not used to that either.”
“They fill a void for you, Annie – something that had been missing from your life.”
“Yes, they do. I suppose that is another reason why I feel drawn to Pete.”
“And, if you do not mind my saying so, dear, Pete is rather easy on the eyes too.”
They both giggled at what the nun had just said.
“He is, isn’t he, Sister? I mean, he may not be as strikingly handsome as Billy Ryan, but I think he’s handsome – tall, athletically built, with short, curly brown hair and hazel eyes. His eyes may not be that dramatic combination of greens and browns – they are more muddled shades – but still I like them. They are not flashy, but they are pleasing. He is like that too, you know – not flashy but pleasing – steady and dependable.”
But you are very good for him as well, dear.”
“How is that, Sister?”
“I have known Peter since he was a small boy in school. He has always been an idealist — but not in the best sense of that word. He always wants to improve the world around him, but he has a tendency to internalize his feelings and to brood too often about those things that he cannot control.”
“I can see that,” Annie replied.
“In that last respect, you are his opposite. You are naturally cheerful and animated. And I have noticed that you always find a way to brighten a room – to make people laugh. Your cheerfulness is the perfect counter weight to his brooding nature. You provide balance for him. You are very good for him. I think that you are very good for each other — as a couple.”
Annie blushed a little bit and said, “Why, thank you, Sister. I think so too.”
The nun just smiled at Annie and patted her arm.
“Now tell me about yourself, Sister. How did you come to the sisterhood?”
“I am not sure that you have the time for my story. It happened so many years ago.”
“I am interested, Sister, and I am still young. So I do have the time.” Annie smiled at Ben. The nun’s eyes twinkled, and they both giggled.
“Only because you are insisting, Annie, I will tell you the story. My family had a farm in upstate Pennsylvania. I was the baby of the family. I had five brothers. They were all strong, good-hearted boys, but – I am sorry to say this, although it is the Lord’s honest truth – but each one was dumber and uglier than the previous one.”
Annie laughed at her, and, when the nun realized what she had said, she laughed too.
Sister Ben continued. “I was the little girl that my mother had wanted. That would have been wonderful if my mother had not passed away when I was a toddler. Daddy did not know much about little girls. So I fell in with my brothers. I played with them all of the time. I became the sixth boy in the family.
“We worked in the fields in the summertime, but, as soon as the first hard freeze happened, Daddy would flood our yard with water. Once the water froze, we had a hockey rink for the rest of the winter. My brothers and I played hockey all winter long, three on three every day. I was the best player because I was faster than my brothers, both with my skates and with my stick.” She chuckled at this thought and smiled at Annie. She was proud of herself.
“But when did you receive your religious calling?” Annie asked.
“Oh, I don’t think I ever received a religious calling.”
“Then what happened?”
“I always enjoyed school, especially science and math. I wanted to go to a college or a university after high school. When I talked to my father about this, he told me that the one thing that he did know about raising girls was that schooling was wasted on them. He said that a woman’s job in life was to find a man, raise a family, and help her husband for the rest of his life.
“I was shocked, but I knew that I would never do what my father wanted. In our little community, my hulking, dimwitted brothers were the cream of the crop of the eligible bachelors. Can you imagine that?” She now laughed so hard that tears rolled down her cheeks. Annie was laughing with her. They could not help themselves.
“But how did you come to join your order?” Annie asked.
“Well, my mother had always been religious. After her death, religion became more important to my father as well. I thought that I could escape this stifling, little world if I joined the convent. Ironic, isn’t it?”
The nun went on. “I also thought that I could get to the University if I joined a teaching order. I was correct. The order paid for my education. I was able to earn both my bachelor’s degree and my master’s degree in mathematics. I am ashamed to admit it, but at one point I considered leaving the convent and going out into the world after I received my degrees.”
“What happened, Sister?”
“In time I realized that I was doing something good. I felt fulfilled in life.”
“So, your calling found you then,” Annie said.
“I was simply trying to flee a bad situation. The one thing that I learned, which I did not know at the time, was that, whenever you are running away from something, you are, by default, running toward something else. I was lucky that I ended up in a good place. It seems that you are in a good place too.”
“Yes. I think that I am in a good place now.” Annie and the nun looked at each other and smiled.
The nun had just finished slicing the vegetables and asked, “Are we ready to feed the men?”
“Yes. I think that we are, Sister. Let’s take the food inside.”
Annie and Sister Ben carried the hors d’oeuvres into the family room and heard Mike tell his guests that he would accompany the
Governor and his family to Philadelphia tomorrow for Trey’s funeral.
As soon as Ves saw the food arrive, he was on his feet and accosted Annie before she could set down her tray of food. “I heard that you and Pete should have been in the Bahamas today,” he said.
“Yes, well, I suppose that it could not be helped because of the murder investigation.”
Mueller broke into their conversation. “Oh, it could have been helped, but Burton decided to cancel my leave at the last minute.”
Pete’s sudden display of bitterness upset Annie. She asked Mike if she might use his powder room, and, when she got up to leave, she placed her hand on Pete’s shoulder and asked him to remain calm.
But Mueller was still angry. “Do you know,” he said, “that Burton ordered me to get to the murder scene within the hour, and then, once I was there, he left to attend a dinner party.”
Then Father Fred spoke up. “I am afraid that I am the reason that he left you at the crime scene, Pete. I had invited Frank to come to the rectory for supper on Christmas night.”
“Yeah,” Ves said, “Frank must have felt that you and the other investigators had it under control without him. If not, he would not have left the crime scene. I met Frank when he flew helicopters as a warrant officer in the First Gulf War. Even then, he insisted that the job always be done right. Frank Burton hasn’t changed since those days. I know that for sure.”
“I did not know that he flew helicopters,” Mueller said.
Mike replied. “That is how he got into the state police in the first place. For a number of years, he flew state police helicopters in North Jersey, around the port of New York. He and his wife lived in Hoboken with their little boy until 9/11.”
“9/11?”
“Yes. Mary Burton was a secretary with a large firm in the World Trade Center. She was at her desk when the plane hit, and she never made it out of the building. They never recovered her body. And 9/11 occurred less than a week before their son’s fifth birthday.”
“That is when I first met Frank,” Father Fred interrupted. “After Mary’s death, Frank became very supportive of his son. He changed his job from flying helicopters to teaching at the Academy, because he wanted to spend more time with his son and needed a job with more predictable hours. He decided to move from urban North Jersey to a more wholesome environment, here in suburban Central New Jersey. That is when he asked me to enroll his son in the elementary school in our parish.”
“I remember the boy’s first day in our school,” said Sister Ben. “I asked him if he could write and read his name. He wrote ‘Frank Burton, Jr.’ and then he read it back to me. ‘Frank Burton, Jay Arr’ he said. When I asked him about it, he said that he always said it that way, and that his mama and dad had called him ‘JR’ at home. So everyone at school started to call him ‘JR’ too from that day on.”
“He worked very hard at school,” the nun said. “He was the brightest boy in his class, and he was a gifted athlete. He was the only second-grader who could get a shot past me when we played street hockey in the schoolyard. The boy has always been a natural athlete.”
“Yeah. He is that,” Ves said. “As you said, Sister, JR had natural talent, and he always worked hard at athletics. In high school, he was the only football player to be named to the All State team’s starting lineup for three consecutive years. By senior year, JR had received full ride scholarship offers from every major school on the East Coast, from Harvard to Duke. The boy could have written his own ticket.”
Father Fred now took up the story. “After Mary’s death, Frank had strongly urged JR to pursue a college degree as the best way to honor his mother’s memory. I think that is why JR drove himself so hard in both academics and athletics. As Ves said, JR was offered many collegiate scholarships in his senior year, but he surprised everyone when he turned down the scholarships and opted for military service. JR had always been close to his mother, and I think he saw military service as his way to honor his mother’s sacrifice.
“Frank and JR argued a great deal about JR’s choice,” the priest continued. “Frank wanted a comfortable life for JR, and he was afraid of what might happen to JR in the military. In the end, however, Frank realized that he could not compete with the memory of JR’s dead mother. Frank was extremely disappointed, but, eventually, he accepted JR’s decision.”
“I feel so sorry for Lieutenant Burton,” Sister Ben said. “He is such a decent man.”
“You cannot prove that by me, Sister,” Mueller said. “To me, Burton has been a vengeful bully.”
Mike noticed that Pete’s remarks were disturbing to his guests from the parish. Mike wanted to change the tone of the conversation quickly when he said, “I think that our food is ready now. Why don’t you all go into the dining room, while I serve dinner?”
As they all got up to go into dinner, Ryan pulled Mueller aside. “I want to ask you something,” he said, and they both walked into the hallway next to the bathroom.
“When I was in New York last night,” Ryan said, “I had planned to meet my witness in a private club there. The club was very opulent, and it had such a decadent atmosphere. In fact, I had not been there for fifteen minutes, when I met the club’s singer at the bar. She was stunning — petite with piercing blue eyes and a sexy, raspy voice. In no time at all, she suggested that we should hook up for the night.”
“How was this going to aid your investigation exactly?”
“Well, it did not happen. The club’s manager put a stop to it before it could happen.”
“The manager was a buzz kill for you then?”
“No. You could not be more wrong. The manager turns out to be this gorgeous young woman named Alex. We talked and had drinks together for most of the night. After 2 AM, it became obvious that my appointment was not going to show. I left the club and went to my hotel room. About an hour later, Alex shows up in my room, without an invitation, and wakes me from a sound sleep. For the rest of the night and through the morning, we did not do much sleeping.”
“Are you telling me this just to brag?”
“No. Here is why I wanted to talk with you. She asked me if I would like to spend New Year’s Eve with her at the club. Since I knew that your plans had been canceled along with your vacation, I asked her if I could invite you and Annie as well. She extended the invitation to you too. The club will comp us for our meals, drinks, and lodging for the night. What do you say, Pete? Do you think you can persuade your old ball and chain to do it?”
Just then Annie opened the bathroom door and walked into the hallway. She had heard their entire conversation. “What is it that you are going to convince your old ball and chain to do, Peter?”
Mueller started to stammer, but Annie just continued talking. “I think I would like to go,” she said. “I definitely want to see the club.” Then she looked directly at Ryan and smirked, “And I am dying to meet this female version of Billy. It should be fun for me.”
Chapter 13
Monday, December 28
Major Mike Kieran stood on the sidewalk in front of the Trenton train station and waited for the Jamieson family to arrive with Trey’s body. He felt a chill run through him as he looked out at the lowering, steel gray sky.
At 9 AM the family’s motorcade and its accompanying escort of state police vehicles rolled up to the front of the train station and stopped near Mike.
State police troopers exited their escort vehicles and positioned themselves at the doors of the hearse and the lead limousine. One of the troopers opened the limousine’s passenger-side door and helped Governor Jamieson exit the vehicle. The Governor turned and offered his hand to his wife, who got out of the vehicle and stood on the sidewalk behind him. The Governor turned back to the limousine and extended his hand once more. Trey’s widow, Susan, grasped his hand and exited the limousine. Elizabeth and Isabel followed their mother out of the car and stood beside her on the sidewalk.
The family, all dressed in black, formed a line facing
the hearse. Susan Stafford Jamieson, Trey’s widow, stood at the front of the line. She wore an opaque, black veil which obscured her face and covered her head and shoulders. Her face was not visible, but the convulsive movement of her shoulders indicated how much pain was etched there. Her younger daughter, Isabel, had pressed herself against Susan’s thigh. Isabel stared down at the ground, and her blonde hair hung down and obscured her face. Susan had placed her hand on top of Isabel’s head, caressed her silky locks, and tried to comfort her. Susan’s older daughter, Elizabeth, stood on the other side of her mother and held her hand. Elizabeth’s lips trembled, and tears welled up in her kind, green eyes. Governor Jamieson stood next to Elizabeth and had placed his hands on the shoulders of both Elizabeth and her mother. The Governor’s mouth was drawn into a thin, grim line. He seemed extremely sad, dazed even. And tears welled up in his eyes as well. Standing a foot apart from the Governor was his wife, Trey’s mother, Laura Jamieson. Laura did not seem to be grieving or dazed. She had the look of a hard woman, one who was angry about what had happened to her son, to her family. She had the look of a woman who wanted revenge.
The Jamieson family had first come to prominence in Philadelphia as merchants and bankers. During the American Civil War, Jamie’s great-grandfather built the Jamieson family’s stately mausoleum in Fairmount Park. Decades later, Jamie’s father founded a successful investment firm in New York and moved his branch of the family to Princeton, but the family’s roots were still in Philadelphia. That is why the Jamieson family was traveling to Philadelphia today, to take Trey to his final resting place, the family’s mausoleum in Fairmount Park.
The funeral director came to the rear of the hearse and opened the door. The state police troopers stood near him. As the funeral director slid Trey’s coffin from the hearse, the troopers formed two files and grasped the handles of the coffin. They slowly carried the coffin over to the sidewalk and placed it on a wheeled bier. Mike Kieran saluted the coffin as it passed, and Susan Jamieson started shaking and sobbing involuntarily. Jamie squeezed Susan’s shoulder and tried to comfort her.