The Heavenly Fugitive

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Oh, Faye!” Amelia sat up in bed, and her thoughts began to come together. She had gone to see Ryan’s family three times since he’d disappeared. Each time his mother and Faye had been so happy to see her. They’d been very guarded, though, about Ryan’s whereabouts, and finally when she’d tried to call, the number had been disconnected.

  “It’s good to hear from you again, Faye. I’ve missed you.”

  “That’s so kind of you to say that, Miss Winslow.”

  “How are you? How’s your mother?”

  “Well, it’s Mother I’m calling about.” There was an odd tightness in Faye’s voice, and then after a brief silence, she said, “Mother passed away the day before yesterday.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” Amelia said.

  “It’s been coming on a long time, but . . . it’s still hard for me to accept. She was the sweetest person I’ve ever known.”

  “I thought a great deal of her.”

  “She so much appreciated the visits you made. You don’t know how much they meant to her.”

  Amelia felt a twinge of guilt at the thought that she could have done more but didn’t. Perhaps it was inevitable to think such thoughts after a death, and Amelia could say only, “I wish I’d had more time to spend with her.”

  Faye spoke briefly, reiterating how her mother had loved her, and then said, “The funeral is tomorrow at two o’clock.”

  Amelia reached over, got a pad, and wrote down the name of the funeral home. Then Faye quickly said good-bye.

  As she hung up the phone, Amelia thought, I’ve got to send some very nice flowers. But even as she thought it, she knew that would not be enough. She’d have to go. She hated funerals, but then she supposed everyone did. It was too late to make anything up to Ryan’s mother, but at least she could show her respect to the rest of the family.

  ****

  The funeral was far better attended than Amelia had expected. She came a few minutes late and took a seat in the back. As she glanced around, she was surprised to see over a hundred people there. They must be from Judith’s church, she thought. She saw Faye sitting with a tall man up in the front row and was somewhat startled to see Ryan seated beside her. She had thought of him many times and had understood his need to flee for his life. Certainly crime lords like Leo Marx had no scruples.

  The funeral was simple, and the only thing different was that several of Mrs. Kildare’s neighbors gave a brief eulogy, all very personal. They all testified to her patience, her generosity, her kindness, and her love for the Lord.

  Finally the service was over, and the minister announced, “For those who care to attend, there will be a graveside service at Lockwood Cemetery.”

  Amelia had not planned to attend, but she could not help thinking of Ryan. She had never been able to put him out of her mind, for there had been something between the two of them, as brief as their acquaintance had been. In her eyes, he was one of the most dynamic men she had ever met. And yet he had left a broken man, filled with fear, forced to go into hiding. She wondered how he had dared return, even for his mother’s funeral. Phil had told her that Leo Marx was out of prison now and would no doubt be looking for Ryan. Marx was not a man who would have softened during his time in jail.

  Instead of driving home she got into the funeral procession, which consisted of some ten cars, and went to the cemetery. The cars parked near a green pavilion set up over the open grave. She stayed back, waiting until the mourners were seated. She did not know several of the family members, including the brothers and sisters for whom Ryan had done so much.

  Finally, when everyone was settled, Amelia moved into the outer circle of the gathering. She chose a place where she could watch Ryan without being observed herself. He was quite pale, she thought, but he showed no signs of nervousness. He sat between a younger woman and a man, both of whom closely resembled him. A sister and brother, she supposed.

  The service was short and fitting, and after the final prayer, the minister stepped forward to shake hands with the family and whisper a word to each of them.

  Amelia returned to her car, but then turned to look back on the scene before she got in. Ryan and two others were walking across the dead grass toward the cars. On impulse, she moved toward them and saw him look up. She also observed the shock that ran through him as he was caught in midstride. He stopped for a moment, then said something in a low voice to the two young men. They both gave her a curious look but left at once, headed toward one of the remaining cars parked in the drive. Ryan came forward and stood before her. He removed his hat, and she saw that his hair was still the flaming red she remembered. There was a steadiness in his eyes and a tremendous soberness in his features. “Thank you so much for coming, Amelia. It was very kind of you.”

  “She was a lovely woman, Ryan. I know you’ll miss her very much.”

  “I always thought she was the kindest human being I ever knew.” He dropped his head for a moment, then looked up and said, “Faye wrote me about your visits after I left. You have a good heart, Amelia.”

  Amelia could not think of what to say next, but finally she said, “Where are you living now, Ryan?”

  “Right here in New York.” He saw something flicker in her eyes, and he smiled. “I know you’re thinking it’s a little bit dangerous.”

  “Yes, I was thinking that.”

  “Well, I had to come back because I knew Mother was dying, and she wanted me close. She promised to keep my whereabouts a secret . . . and she did just that.”

  “What will you do now, Ryan?”

  “I’ll be around.”

  Amelia hesitated at his ambiguous answer. She had expected him to say he would be leaving right away. She put out her hand and said, “Take care of yourself, Ryan.”

  When Ryan took her hand, he did not squeeze it as some men might. Instead he held it gently and did not speak for a moment. Finally he nodded and said, “Thanks for coming. Mother thought the world of you, Amelia. Good-bye.” He turned and walked away, leaving her standing there feeling dissatisfied. She had wanted to learn more of his plans, but he’d said no more.

  ****

  Phil listened as Amelia told him about the funeral. He shook his head when she finished, saying, “That’s bad news.”

  “You really think Leo Marx will try to kill him?”

  “Marx is convinced Ryan was responsible for his conviction. Men like that don’t forget anything. If you have any influence over Ryan, try to convince him to go far away.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he wouldn’t listen to me.”

  “Why did he come back?”

  “It was for his mother’s sake.”

  The two talked for a few moments, and then Phil said, “Rosa was arrested.”

  As he related the circumstances, sadness filled her face. She leaned back and said, “What’s happening to this country, Phil? It’s going down faster than I would ever have believed.”

  Phil sipped his coffee and shook his head sadly. “I think a lot of it has something to do with the war. A whole generation has gotten infected by this ‘eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die’ sort of thing. The soldiers all had it, I understand.”

  “But it’s not just ex-soldiers. Women, too, are doing everything they shouldn’t do. What’s happened to women?”

  “Well, some of them are just tired of keeping house. They got a touch of freedom while the men were gone, and now this whole movement is telling them they can do anything they please. But I think a lot of it has to do with Freud.”

  “You mean that Austrian doctor?”

  “Yes. He dresses up his teachings with a lot of fancy words, but basically he says everything we do is motivated by sex. The way to be happy is to have an uninhibited sex life. If you are going to be well and happy, obey your libido.”

  “And this country’s fallen for it just like Sodom and Gomorrah.” Amelia sighed, then suddenly chuckled to herself. “Listen to me, Phil. I sound like some kind of preacher’s daughter!
It’s not like I can tell others how to live, now, can I?”

  Phil took her hand in his and squeezed it warmly. “You’re a good woman, Amelia. You’re still trying to find your way, but at heart you know what’s good and right.”

  Amelia sat there in silence for a few moments, then finally said heavily, “Phil, why don’t you try to talk to Ryan? I have a feeling he needs some help.”

  “You got his address?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Well, I’d be glad to talk to him. If he calls you, get his number.”

  “All right, Phil. We need to help him all we can. He’s had a rough blow.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Water Street

  “Hello, Mr. Winslow, what can I do for you?” The sergeant behind the big desk at the city jail smiled as Phil walked in.

  “I’d like to talk to Charlie Zlinter.”

  “Hey, Zlinter must be coming up in the world,” the sergeant said. “He’s talking with his lawyer right now.” The policeman grinned broadly. “What’s Charlie done that’s so important you guys from the DA’s office keep coming back?”

  “I just hate to see him get flushed down, Sergeant.”

  “Sure. Well, come on. I’ll take you down. Hey, did you hear the latest definition of a lawyer? A guy who persuades two people to take off their clothes and then steals them.”

  Phil had heard most of the lawyer jokes, including this one, but he laughed politely anyway. He followed the policeman down the hall and watched as he opened the door without knocking. “Hey, Zlinter, I got another lawyer here to see you.” He laughed, then nodded. “Go on in, Counselor.”

  Phil stepped inside the small room and saw Zlinter seated at a scarred table. Winslow thought the young man looked tired and older than his seventeen years. The jail had worn him down in a very short time. That’s what usually happens, Phil thought. I guess that’s what jails are supposed to do.

  “Hello, Phil.”

  Phil turned quickly at the familiar voice, and a shock ran through him as he saw Ryan Kildare standing on the other side of the room. “Ryan,” Phil said, “I’ve been trying to get in touch with you. Amelia said she saw you at your mother’s funeral.”

  “Yes, she did. How are you, Phil? I hear great things about you.”

  “Oh, I’m just fine.” As Phil took a chair at the table, he studied Kildare’s face and tried to read the man’s features. He had lost some weight, but there was a calm about him that Phil did not remember. What he did remember about Kildare was that he used to have such a ferocious drive he didn’t let problems get him down but ran straight at them. Ryan Kildare seemed much calmer now, and Phil sensed that it stemmed from an inner peace rather than anything else.

  Phil wanted to ask him about his plans to avoid Leo Marx, but this was not the place. He glanced at the young prisoner and spoke to him as he took a chair, too, and sat down. “Hello, Charlie.”

  “Hello, Mr. Winslow.”

  “How have you been?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “Maybe I’d better tell you why I’m here, Ryan. I’ve been trying to get Charlie here to understand that he doesn’t need to go down for this. It’s his first major offense. I think I can get him a suspended sentence with a little supervision. All we want are the names of the people he worked for.”

  Ryan smiled. “I think Charlie’s ready for that now.”

  Surprise swept across Phil’s face. He shot a glance at Charlie and said, “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What changed your mind, Charlie?”

  “Mr. Kildare here. He’s been talking to me a lot.”

  “Well, I think you’re fortunate in your lawyer, Charlie. He’s telling you the straight goods. I’ll do all I can for you. Can’t promise anything. You never know which way a judge will jump, but I think it’ll work out all right.”

  Phil quickly discovered that Charlie Zlinter was indeed willing to cooperate. He named names and gave dates. Phil was surprised at how much he knew about the operation.

  “They didn’t pay much attention to me, but I kept my eyes open,” Charlie said when Phil asked him how he knew so many details.

  “That’s good, Charlie. You’ve been a great help. I’ll go to bat for you. I’ll wait for you outside, Ryan.”

  “No, I’m through. The hearing will be tomorrow.”

  Phil hesitated. “In a case like this I’m not even sure there has to be a trial. If you and I can agree, we can go to Judge Samuelson on Charlie’s behalf. He’s a reasonable man. I think we can work it all out just between the three of us.”

  “Fine.” Ryan reached over and clapped Charlie Zlinter on the back. “You’ve done the right thing here, Charlie. Time to start doing things a little different.”

  The two lawyers left then, and as soon as they were outside, Phil said, “Got time for a cup of coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  The two men left the jail and ten minutes later were seated in a café. After the hot coffee had come in big mugs, Phil made light conversation for a few minutes, but then said, “How long have you been back, Ryan?”

  “Almost three months.”

  Phil hesitated, sipped his coffee, then put the cup down. He traced the squares on the red-and-white-checkered tablecloth and sought the right words. He actually had a fondness for this man, or perhaps it was more pity. He had always thought Ryan showed good sense in running for his life. Finally Phil looked up and met Kildare’s eyes. “What about Leo Marx? He doesn’t forget things.”

  “I know he doesn’t.” Ryan shrugged his shoulders. “But I can’t live in a cave the rest of my life.”

  “Maybe I ought to have a talk with Leo. Let him know that if anything happens to you, something will happen to him.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  “Actually, I don’t mind it. Nothing I like better than leaning on guys like Leo Marx. I’ll give it a shot.”

  “Thanks, Phil, it might help.”

  “So . . . you’re practicing law again. Where’s your office?”

  Ryan gave the young man opposite him an odd glance, and then he chuckled. “It’s on Water Street near the mission.”

  Phil blinked with surprise. “The Water Street Mission? Why, that’s where my uncle was converted, and that’s where my father and he first ministered together before they set out for Africa!”

  “Yes, I’ve heard all about the Winslow brothers. They left quite a legacy.”

  “So you’ve spent some time at the mission? What are you doing there?”

  “It’s a long story, Phil.”

  “Can’t you give me the short version?”

  “I left here running scared for my life. I stayed that way for almost a year. Got into some bad habits, but then I found the Lord. Jesus saved me and that’s it.”

  “Why, Ryan, I think that’s wonderful!” Phil said excitedly. “I want to hear all of it someday.”

  “Come down to the mission sometime. I’m helping with the work.”

  “Are you preaching there too?”

  “No, not really. I guess I do a little of that, but mostly I’m just available for people who need help. Quite a few of them in that neighborhood need some legal advice.”

  “It’s no way to get rich.”

  “No, probably not, but that doesn’t matter to me anymore.”

  The two men talked for some time, and finally Ryan said, “I guess I’d better get back. When do you want to try to meet with the judge?”

  “How about one o’clock tomorrow? I think I can set it up for then.”

  “You really think he’ll go for it, Phil?”

  “I’m sure he will. Especially if we agree to keep an eye on the young man.”

  “He doesn’t have anywhere to go. I’ve already told him he could come and stay at the mission and help me around the place. We’ll find him a job.”

  “That’s all the judge will want. Samuelson’s a good man. I’ll see you tomorrow at one.” />
  ****

  Boadicea lunged and broke into a furious run. Rosa leaned forward, the wind blowing in her face. The cold February wind cut at her and numbed her lips, but she loved to ride fast—as she loved to do almost everything else. She clung to the back of the mare, helping her with the movements of her body, but then the headache that had bothered her all morning came back, and she reined the mare in. “That’s enough, Boadicea,” she said rather crossly. The mare had stopped reluctantly and shook her head, trying to get rid of the bit, but Rosa held her firmly. “You behave now,” she said sharply.

  The late afternoon sun was sinking into the west, a huge crimson disk. Rosa had ridden for over an hour, and now she reluctantly turned back toward the stables. As she did she remembered the painful scene she’d had with her father earlier in the day. She hated scenes, especially with her father. The two of them had practically no communication now. It was obvious to Rosa that her father was going downhill physically, but emotionally he was the same. He demanded the same obedience from her that he got from Dom Costello, and Rosa was simply not constituted to live under those conditions.

  As she moved along the bridle path that wound across the Morino estate, a fox trotted out in front of her, and she pulled up with surprise. The vixen turned and studied her casually without a trace of fear. Rosa held Boadicea in tightly and studied the beautiful animal. Finally the fox turned and walked away placidly, and Rosa exclaimed, “Aren’t you a bold one!” She touched the mare with her heels and continued toward the stables.

  She had not ridden more than fifty yards when an intersecting path revealed a rider coming from her left. Wondering who else would be riding on her father’s estate, she pulled the mare over to a slow walk. As the other rider came into view, she was shocked to see Phil Winslow, mounted on the big bay.

  “Good to see you, Rosa,” he said casually.

  Rosa flushed. The last time she had seen him, she was drunk and fighting two policemen. She hated it that he had seen her like that. It seemed worse for him than for her father, but she could not have told why.

  “What are you doing here, Phil? My father will kill you if he sees you here.”