Broken Promises - A Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery (Book 8)

by Terri Reid

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The night sky was so clear you could see the Milky Way from the top of Flagstaff hill in Krape Park. Bradley and Mary sat wrapped in a wool blanket on the top of the picnic bench that overlooked the park and stared up into the sky. “This is so beautiful,” Mary said. “I feel like I can reach out and touch them.”

  Bradley wrapped his arm around her and pulled her even closer. “We could go home where it’s warm and watch this on the Internet.”

  Mary elbowed him and shook her head. “The Internet is not romantic.”

  “Oh,” he replied, nibbling on her ear. “I didn’t realize you wanted romantic.”

  She shivered. “Stop it,” she laughed. “That tickles.”

  He moved back. “It was supposed to be sexy.”

  “Oh,” she said, immediately contrite. “I didn’t know that. Go ahead, try again. I’ll do better this time.”

  She heard him snort and his body shook with laughter. “What?”

  He shook his head. “Nothing,” he laughed.

  “I said I’d do better,” she said with a huff. “So do it again.”

  Still laughing he pulled her onto his lap and wrapped the blanket around them tightly, and then he trailed a number of light kisses on her jawline. She shivered again, but this time it definitely did not tickle. She closed her eyes and arched her neck and he kissed along her collarbone and the inside of her neck. Her body grew warmer. “Oh, that’s so nice,” she whispered as kissed the corner of her lips. He lifted his head and waited until she opened her eyes. Then he lowered his face to hers and crushed his lips against hers. She moaned softly and then she froze.

  Bradley lifted his head. “What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes, wide with wonder, met his. “This is what Rosie meant,” she said.

  “What?”

  “When Rosie and I were talking about sex, she told me that we would be able to communicate without words,” she said, her voice animated and her eyes sparkling with understanding. “We just did that, we just communicated without words.”

  Rolling his eyes, Bradley pulled her back into his arms. “Well, let’s just continue our conversation, shall we?”

  She chuckled and nodded. “Oh, of course,” she agreed, wrapping her arms around his neck and positioning herself for a fresh round of kisses.

  Just before their lips met, Bradley’s phone began to ring. He sat back and sighed. “It’s the department,” he said. “I have to…”

  She nodded with understanding.

  “Alden,” he said into the phone. “Really? Already? And what did they decide?”

  He paused for a moment and nodded, “Thank you so much. Yes, I’ll tell Mary. Thanks again.”

  He hung up the phone and kissed Mary with extra enthusiasm.

  “What?” she asked, when she could speak again.

  “The jury reached a verdict: guilty of manslaughter,” he said. “The sentencing will be tomorrow.”

  “Only manslaughter?” Mary asked. “Why not first degree murder?”

  “The jury didn’t believe he intended to kill his wife, they believe he thought she was dead and acted to save their baby,” he said.

  “And Jeannine?” she asked.

  “He didn’t inject the drug,” he said with a shrug. “So they didn’t find him culpable.”

  “How do you feel?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Good,” he said. “I feel good. I think the judge will send him away for a long time. I feel that justice has been served. How do you feel?”

  Taking a deep breath, she smiled back at him. “Relieved,” she replied. “Gary Copper is going away and I don’t ever have to worry about him again. Now we can concentrate on finding Clarissa.”

  Bradley stood up, with Mary in his arms and kissed her again. Then he lowered her to the ground. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go tell Ian the good news. And then you can tell me more about this conversation you and Rosie had.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Rosie stood in front of the mirror in a small room at the church. Mary stood behind her, helping to place hairpins in her hair to hold the veil in place. “Okay, I think it’s good,” Mary said through a mouthful of bobby pins, “What do you think?”

  Rosie turned her head to one side and then to the other and nodded. “Oh Mary, I think it looks perfect.”

  Mary stood back and looked at her friend. She was dressed in an ivory brocade suit with pearl buttons and four-inch ivory heels. Her veil was a vintage birdcage with a cluster of ivory roses, green shamrocks and black feathers. “You look so beautiful,” Mary said, tears filling her eyes. “Stanley is going to be knocked off his feet.”

  Rosie smiled back at her. “Don’t start crying or I’ll ruin my mascara and my wedding pictures will look horrid.”

  Mary laughed, grabbed a tissue and blotted her eyes. “Okay, I’m better now,” she said. “So, have you got something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue?”

  Rosie nodded. “Let’s see, something new is this wonderful suit,” she said, twirling in front of the mirror, “Even though it cost me a fortune.”

  “It was worth every penny,” Mary said.

  “And something borrowed is my veil,” she said. “It belonged to my mother, I just updated it a little.”

  “Perfect,” Mary agreed.

  “And, something blue,” she said, as she lifted her skirt slightly and with a saucy wink exposed a blue garter on her thigh. “How’s this?”

  “Well, you have it all covered except something old,” Mary said.

  Rosie shrugged. “Well, I figured the something old would be me.”

  Mary rushed forward and threw her arms around Rosie. “You are not old, you are amazing,” she said. “And I am so happy for you.”

  Rosie returned the hug. “Thank you, sweetie, I am so happy,” she admitted. “I never thought I would find someone like Stanley.”

  Laughing, Mary stepped back. “Oh, Rosie, there is no one like Stanley.”

  Rosie giggled. “I suppose you’re right,” she said.

  A knock on the door interrupted their conversation. “Is the bride ready?” Ian asked from the other side of the door.

  Mary turned to Rosie. “Ready?”

  Rosie nodded. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

  Mary opened the door and Ian, dressed in a black tuxedo, walked in. “Wow, you look gorgeous,” he said, kissing Rosie on the cheek and lowering his voice. “We can still run away together if you’d like.”

  She kissed him back and laughed. “And just what would you do if I said yes?” she asked.

  “Ah, darling, I’d be the happiest of men for the rest of my life,” he said, placing his hand over his heart.

  “You flatterer,” she said. “But no, I have my mind made up. I’m marrying Stanley today.”

  “Well then, if you’re mind is made up, the least I can do is walk you down the aisle,” he said, extending his arm. “Are you ready, milady?”

  “Yes, I’m ready,” Rosie agreed, slipping her arm through his.

  “Just wait here,” Mary said, slipping out the door. “Let me make sure everything is ready.”

  Mary hurried down the hall and into the front foyer of the church.

  Stanley stood at the front of the church loosening his collar. “Don’t know why they insist we dress up like monkeys,” he grumbled. “Don’t know who thought of ties any who.”

  Bradley grinned and leaned over to Stanley. “Stop fussing, everyone will think you’re nervous,” he said.

  Stanley straightened. “Ain’t nervous,” he said. “Perfectly calm. I ain’t no wet-behind-the-ears kid. I know what marriage is all about.”

  Bradley nodded. “Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue.”

  “That’s nothing but female stuff,” Stanley scoffed. “Superstitious female…”

  He paused and his jaw dropped. “Well, I’ll be,” he said.

  “What?” Bradley asked.


  “I just remembered,” he said, turning to Bradley. “I can’t believe it took me this long.”

  “Took you this long for what?” Bradley asked.

  Stanley unpinned his boutonniere and handed it to Bradley. “Hold this for me, okay?” he asked, “I gotta go do something.”

  Stanley walked past him to the side door in the chapel.

  “Wait, Stanley, what am I supposed to tell Rosie?” Bradley called after him.

  “Tell her I remembered what Verda wanted,” he said. “Tell her I love her.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  The courtroom was nearly deserted on the late Friday afternoon, especially since it was St. Patrick’s Day and many had taken part in the parade and after work celebrations. Gary Copper was escorted into the antechamber, handcuffs on his wrists and shackles on his legs, wearing an orange jumpsuit.

  “Really, is this necessary?” Greg Thanner asked, “I insist you remove these restraining implements from his person. He is remanded to my custody while he is in the courtroom with me, I will be responsible for him.”

  “I’m sorry, Mr. Thanner, but security requires…” the first officer began.

  “Excuse me, but do you want to be a part of the counter suit we are leveling against this county?” he asked. “Either you take off these handcuffs and shackles, or you will see us in court,”

  The officers looked at each other and shrugged, “We’ll be right outside the door, waiting,” the first one said, and he bent and removed the security apparatus.

  Once the door had closed, Thanner sat in a chair across from Gary Copper. Gary shook his head. “I am disappointed in you, Greg,” Gary began. “You were supposed to get me off. And yet, here I am, convicted of manslaughter. What did I pay you for?”

  Thanner wiped a handkerchief over his moist forehead. “I did the best I could,” he defended. “Once you told them about cutting into your wife, my hands were tied.”

  Gary sat back in his chair. “Oh, so this is my fault?” he asked. “You were the one who suggested I testify on my own behalf.”

  Thanner nodded his head. “Well, I admit that was a misjudgment on my part.”

  Gary smiled. “They say confession is good for the soul,” he said, “Especially a confession just before you die.”

  The officers on the other side of the door heard a muffled noise and looked at each other. But the noise wasn’t repeated, so they simply shrugged and waited for Thanner to notify them he was ready to bring Gary into the courtroom.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  It was starting to get dark; Clarissa watched the streetlights turn on and watched the grocery store slide the metal grate over its windows and close up for the day. She scanned the streets from the living room window, waiting for her mother.

  She had packed all of her clothes and her few belongings into her backpack. That morning her mother had suggested the she also carry all of their money in her backpack, because it would be a lesser target for pickpockets than her mother’s purse. But that was early in the morning and her mother was supposed to have been home by lunchtime.

  She walked into her bedroom and looked out her window, down to the bar across the street. Ever since early that afternoon, there had been a steady stream of customers into the bar. They were all wearing green hats or green clothing. Clarissa remembered her teacher telling them about St. Patrick’s Day and how all of the students should wear green to school that day. She sighed; she was really going to miss her teacher.

  The lock rattled and Clarissa hurried out of her room. Her mother stumbled into the apartment and Clarissa ran forward to catch her. “Sorry, sweetheart,” she gasped. “I just need to catch my breath.”

  Clarissa led her over to the nearest chair and helped her sit down. “Let me get you some water, Mommy,” she said. “So you can take you medicine.”

  Becca smiled at her daughter. “That would be lovely, sunshine, thank you.”

  Becca listened to Clarissa’s footsteps enter the kitchen, and took a napkin from her pocket. The white napkin was already dotted with specks of dried blood. Becca lifted it to her mouth and coughed softly, expelling a little more blood. She quickly wiped her mouth and stuffed the napkin back in her pocket before Clarissa came into the room.

  Handing her mother the cup of water, Clarissa looked worried. “Maybe you should rest and we can go tomorrow,” she suggested.

  Sipping the water, Becca shook her head. “No,” she finally said. “This is the perfect day. We can get lost in the St. Patrick’s Day crowds and no one will be able to track us.”

  “Are you sure, Mommy?” Clarissa asked.

  Becca nodded and silently prayed for some more strength. “I’m sure, honey.”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Stanley pushed open his front door and hurried into the house, not even taking the time to close the door behind him. He first went to his bedroom, throwing open the closet and searching the shelves and the boxes on the floor. “Nothing,” he muttered.

  He walked past his office, knowing what he was looking for was not in there either, since he just spent the past week cleaning it. Moving on to the guest room, he pulled open drawers and examined the closet and under the bed. He was having no luck at all.

  Walking through the kitchen, he opened the door to the basement. Glancing quickly, he thought he saw a light down below, but in a moment it was gone. Shrugging, he turned on the basement light and hurried down the narrow steps. Years ago Verna had asked him to create a series of shelving units all along the walls of the basement. The shelves closest to the door held personal items and kitchen equipment. Those across the way were supposed to hold camping equipment and tools. He bit his lip, knowing that he hadn’t been as careful in the past few years with putting things were they needed to be. He hoped he could still find it.

  Knowing the first unit was filled with Christmas ornaments, he skipped that one. The second unit held all of the canning equipment; it wouldn’t be in there either. He moved down to the third shelving unit and found a number of boxes that were labeled in Verna’s handwriting. He opened the first one and found it filled with items that belonged to their children; books, toys, sports equipment and miscellaneous trophies filled several shelves worth of boxes.

  The last set of shelves had boxes that were haphazardly placed on each level. There were no markings on the box and the lids were fastened with duct tape. He shook his head, these must have been the boxes he put away. He pulled down the first box and ripped open the top. A waft of Verna’s perfume filled the air and he quickly looked around, sure that she was standing nearby. He looked down and saw the box held some of the clothes from her closet. He picked up a blue cardigan and stroked it lovingly. It was her favorite sweater; she wore it nearly every day in the winter as she worked around the house. He lifted it to his face and inhaled her perfume as bittersweet memories came flooding into his mind.

  “Oh, Verna, am I doing the right thing?” he asked aloud.

  “Well, it’s a little late to ask that question,” Verna’s voice came from directly behind Stanley.

  He jumped around and started when he saw her, standing just a few feet away. “Verna?”

  “You got that sweet woman waiting at the altar for you and now you’re going to ask if you should be marrying her?” she asked, shaking her finger at him. “Why Stanley Wagner, what kind of man are you anyway?”

  “I guess I’m the confused kind, Verna,” he said. “How come you’re back here, messing around with my mind?”

  “Because, if I hadn’t come back, you would have forgotten,” she said. “And I didn’t want you to forget.”

  Stanley looked away for a moment. “Pert near forgot, until I was standing at the altar, waiting for the music to begin,” he said. “So, I rushed home to find it.”

  She smiled at him. “Do you love her?” she asked.

  “I won’t be hurting your feelings iffen I tell you the truth?” he asked.

  “Tell me the truth, Stanley.”


  “I love her,” he said. “It don’t take away from the love I felt for you. It’s different, but it’s right.”

  “I know it’s right,” she said. “I like her, Stanley.”

  He smiled. “I’m glad you do,” he said. “She said she thought she’d like you too.”

  “Well, then, since you’ve got that settled, I’ll just be on my way,” she said, and she started fading away.

  “Wait! Verna! I can’t find it,” he said. “I’m keeping her waiting and I can’t find it.”

  Verna was nearly gone, but he heard her whisper into his ear. “Check in the pocket of my favorite sweater, Stanley.”

  He turned the sweater around and put his hand in the right front pocket. All that was inside was a folded tissue. Then he put his hand into the left pocket and a smile spread over his face. “Thank you, Verna.”

  Chapter Forty-Eight

  “Tell me again what he said when he left?” Rosie asked Bradley, as she blotted her eyes with a lace handkerchief.

  They were all standing inside the small room Rosie had used to get dressed. Bradley had informed the minister things were going to be a little later than expected and then he found Mary in the lobby. Together they broke the news to Rosie.

  “He just said he remembered what Verna wanted and that he loved you,” Bradley repeated. “I’m sorry, Rosie, I don’t know what’s going on.”

  Mary wrapped her arms around Rosie. “I’m sure there’s a good explanation,” she said. “I’m sure that he will be back in just a few minutes.”

  Rosie sniffed. “He’s been gone for fifteen minutes,” she said, her voice quivering. “The poor organist is running out of music. I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

  “Darling, what you’re going to do is have faith in the man you love,” Ian said.

  Rosie turned and looked at him. “But he left…”

  Ian shook his head. “Rosie, you know that Stanley and I rarely see eye to eye, but I will tell you one thing I know, Stanley is a man of honor. He would not leave you stranded at the altar. If he’s gone, it’s for a damn good reason.”

  Stanley cleared his throat as he stood in the doorway of the room and they all turned around. “I thank you, Ian,” he said. “I thought it was important, or I wouldn’t have left, I swear Rosie.”