She licked a stray drop of coffee from the rim of her mug and smiled. “You know,” she said casually, “that ocean landscape you have in your living room would look great, once I get the couch in here.”
She relished the look of surprise on her sister’s face. No way in a million years would Gina ever surrender that painting, not after they had seen one by another artist of the same school appraised on Antiques Roadshow, and especially not after their mother had recently revealed the landscape’s actual worth. If Gina was going to be a frequent visitor, she would have to adjust to the eclectic décor of pop art and action figures. It was a far better alternative to letting her move back into the Hayes’ basement, so Ronnie had gathered by the look of unrestrained glee on her brother-in-law’s face that morning as he helped pack her car.
“Ronnie, the picture poster is fine,” Nana said, setting her mug down on the only table in the otherwise sparse room. “Once the rest of your new home is unpacked I’m sure everything will look very nice.”
“I hope so, too. It’ll be nice to have something for people to sit on besides the floor.” Ronnie sighed at the stacks of boxes in the galley kitchen and in the one bedroom visible from where she stood. Their contents had spent the last two years languishing in a North Jacksonville storage facility, where Ronnie had put them after moving out of the home she and her late husband Jim shared. A small lump lodged in her throat at the thought of having to unpack everything. Memories waited for her in those cartons, memories of a happy marriage cut short.
Though Ronnie was slowly rebuilding her life after his death—too slowly for her family’s tastes, but the move was a big step forward—she was not certain how strong she could be in the simple act of opening a cardboard box. Who knows what personal objects Jim had owned—a book, a cigarette lighter, some unidentifiable souvenir he insisted on getting during their vacation to the Smoky Mountains—would cause her to dissolve into tears. She could already picture the bemused look on Gina’s face, wondering aloud why the sight of a petrified walnut with glued-on google eyes, perched on a plastic platform bearing the inscription I’m just nuts about Dollywood, would upset her so much.
“Where is the couch, anyway?” Gina glanced impatiently at her watch. “Father Joel should have been here by now, you think?”
“You’d think,” Ronnie said. She cringed as her grandmother innocently opened a small file box that happened to contain Jim’s collection of guitar music books, then turned sharply away and focused instead on the small window facing the main street of the new Ash Lake Townhome Villa complex. An overgrowth of ragged azalea bushes covered a great part of the view, and Ronnie doubted she would be able to see Father Joel Mitchell pulling up in the rumbling white panel truck used by the Blessed Lorena Alger Catholic Church’s ministry thrift shop. The priest had volunteered himself and a few of his charges to deliver the couch she had purchased from them.
Saint Lorena Alger, Ronnie reminded herself, relieved she had not said anything aloud. Gina would surely have reprimanded her for the error, even though Lorena’s canonization ceremony would not be held for another three months. Therefore, she was still technically a Blessed until the Pope made everything official. Or the good Lord Himself. Ronnie was still unclear on a few things.
“Father’ll be here,” Ronnie said. “He probably just needed to find somebody to help load it into the truck. The thrift shop’s short on help as it is, and I’m sure he needed the time to track down somebody who wouldn’t throw out his back trying to lift something.”
Gina nodded. “I’ve been meaning to go over there and put in a few hours, but the boys’ schedules are so erratic in the summertime with soccer and Boy Scouts. Maybe when the school year starts I’ll work some community service into the home school curriculum.”
“I’d volunteer if I had the time, what with the full load I’m teaching for the second summer semester, and in the fall,” Ronnie offered.
Nana pried open another box, revealing many picture frames wrapped in newspaper. “I’d volunteer, too, if I didn’t think I’d buy everything in sight,” she added wistfully. “They get such nice things at the thrift shop.”
“Oh, Nana.” Ronnie moved over to her grandmother and took her into a gentle embrace, not so much to reinforce affection but to prevent the silver-haired widow from opening any more boxes. All Nana had to do was produce one of those framed photos of her married life and Ronnie knew she would not be able to hold back the tears.
“Nana, you’re already involved so much with the church, serving on all those committees,” she continued. “Plus, you have all the canonization planning going on…”
“Which will soon be over,” Nana interrupted, her voice excited and youthful, easily betraying her advanced age. “Though I don’t mind telling you I’ll be relieved to be done with it. Every time I think about meeting the Pope, I just get so nervous. I’ve been praying for weeks that I won’t say or do something silly in front of him.”
“Like what? ‘Take me away from all of this’?”
“Not that silly,” Nana giggled.
Ronnie watched her sister’s hands tighten around her mug, and she wondered if Gina, too, was thinking the same about herself. To her memory, neither woman had encountered anyone of great importance, in the world of religion or otherwise. The Vatican had been courteous enough to express mail a packet containing protocol information that everyone in the family had memorized. Though, Ronnie decided, it would do little good. Meeting the Holy Father would be akin to taking the SATs; no amount of studying will have been worth a damn when the test is administered, when the answers are sliding noiselessly out of the brain.
She downed the rest of her coffee and retreated to the kitchen for a refill. Actually, she realized, she had not been truthful with herself. The family did know a celebrity; rather, they had been more acquainted with her well before stardom.
As to whether or not a soap opera actress garnered the same importance as the spiritual leader of the entire Catholic population…
“Hey,” she called unseen from the kitchen. “Any more news on Allayne Witt?” She returned to the living room to find that Gina and Nana had taken seats on two of the sturdier boxes. Gina wiggled her posterior against a plastic one marked Books and grimaced.
“No wonder the Ash Lake campus of FCCJ has such a lousy library,” she griped. “I’m probably sitting on everything you stole from it.”
Ronnie relaxed against the entranceway to the kitchen. The fabric eternal calendar with the butterfly design would look nice on the bare strip of wall separating the two rooms. She hoped she would be able to find a thumbtack in the mess before her. “Hey, it’s not my fault they don’t send overdue notices to faculty,” she joked. “’Course, had those been computer application manuals, the school would have sent the SWAT team here to reclaim them.”
“Like what happened at the house last year,” Nana sighed. “All those young men rappelling from helicopters. The kids in the neighborhood still love to play bomb squad at Miss Julie’s on the weekends.”
Ronnie had to laugh out loud at that memory, when the simple ransom package of Lorena’s severed yet preserved finger launched a bomb scare, the first known in Ash Lake’s history.
One glance at a stone-faced Gina, however, dissolved the rest of the laughter bubbling in her throat. She knew Gina found nothing funny about the incidents surrounding the disappearance of Lorena’s body last year. To be sure, it was not a laughing matter. The maintenance man at the cemetery where Lorena had previously been laid to rest had been murdered, and Ronnie put her own life in danger during an attempt to trap the culprit.
Ronnie had hoped one day the family would be able to look back on the events without bitterness, though considering the family connection involved, she knew now not enough time had elapsed.
“Will Uncle Arthur be granted permission to go to Miami?” Gina asked, as if reading Ronnie’s mind.
Great, Ronnie thought. This topic of conversation was never pleasan
t. Last year, Nana’s bachelor son had hired two young hoodlums to rob Lorena’s grave for a hefty ransom to pay off his debts, a crime unrelated to the murder. Of the family, only Gina had yet to forgive him.
Quickly Ronnie countered with her own question. “Either of you heard anything new about Allayne Witt’s condition? Rumor has it she’s not doing so well.”
To Ronnie’s consternation, Nana acted as if she had not heard the latter question. “No,” she answered sadly. “I’ve had Father Joel and Lew appeal to the circuit judge, but we keep getting denied.” Nana stood from her box and paced the length of the Berber carpet, her thick, low heels thumping down hard with each step. “I encouraged Father to appeal to the state Supreme Court, but Arthur appears to have lost interest in the whole thing. He’s convinced he won’t be able to go.”
“Shame,” Ronnie murmured. “I don’t doubt he’d have caused anymore trouble. If it’s a matter of surveillance, I’m sure there’ll be plenty of security there—”
“I don’t think that’s the point the judge was trying to make, Ron,” Gina was suddenly haughty. “Uncle Arthur committed a crime, and was sentenced to a lengthy house arrest. Just because he’s a descendant of Lorena’s doesn’t mean he should get any more special treatment. This canonization almost didn’t happen because of him.”
“Lorena would have been canonized regardless of whether or not there was a physical body available for viewing. It’s been done before,” Ronnie countered wearily. “Her soul being in Heaven is what matters, and I wish you’d forgive Arthur like everybody else has. He’s family, a grown man, and you treat him as if you’re grounding Ian or Elliott from going to Disney World.”
“A man died because of his actions!” Gina exploded. For one second the mug in her hands was forgotten as a wild gesture sent a stream of lukewarm coffee splattering on the movie poster. A long trail of light brown liquid slid down Kevin Kline’s face. “How can I forgive that? How can I forgive him for nearly bankrupting his own mother, which eventually led to the whole kidnapping and murder mess?”
“A man died because somebody murdered him. Paul Dix was hired by his killer to kidnap Lorena, too, remember? Arthur had nothing to do with that,” Nana reminded her granddaughter. “The person who murdered Paul is now serving a life sentence for that murder. What Arthur did was unspeakable, yes, but he has accepted his punishment and is making amends, Gina.” The old woman’s face softened. “I’ve forgiven him, as have those in the church, and I’m sure our Lorena is praying for him this very minute.”
She reached forward and laid a thin, but strong, hand on Gina’s shoulder. Gina did not flinch. “Remember your Bible, Gina. King David, so infatuated with Bathsheba, arranged for her husband to die so he could have her to himself. He knew his mistakes, and so does Arthur. And like King David, he is working to make everything right.”
“I know,” Gina whined.
“Arthur hasn’t seen his grandnephews in months, Gina.”
This revelation shocked Ronnie. Despite her offer to give Nana the downstairs bedroom of her new townhouse, Nana chose to remain in her house with Arthur. Somehow the two of them had managed to keep the bank from foreclosing on the property, and Arthur’s new found success as a freelance writer brought in enough money to pay the bills. Apparently a number of magazines found his notoriety to be an asset as opposed to a liability. Arthur took the success in stride. “It works for sitcom stars,” he had told Ronnie during her last visit.
Surely Gina had been taking the boys to see their great-grandmother? Surely Gina was not forcing Nana to arrange clandestine meetings in public places. Nana did not drive, and Ronnie had not been asked to ferry her anywhere recently.
Ronnie opened her mouth then quickly pressed her lips shut. Better not to delve any further. She had agitated Gina enough for one day.
Her gaze drifted over to her grandmother, and she noticed that the normally calm woman was now casting nervous glances down at her thin-strapped silver watch.
“Do you have to be somewhere, Nana?” Ronnie asked, now concerned. Had they missed an appointment at the doctor’s office?
Nana’s head darted quickly upward and she idly straightened the clasp of her bead necklace. “Oh, no, dear. I was just wondering what’s been keeping Father Joel. He was going to give me a lift back to the church for this afternoon’s Rosary Guild meeting.”
“In that smelly old truck?” Gina’s face wrinkled. “Why didn’t you say something earlier, Nana? I’ll take you there right now if you want. I’m sure Ronnie can hold the fort until I get back.”
“It’s no big deal, really,” Nana insisted, escaping into the kitchen. Ronnie and Gina could only stare quizzically at each other as their grandmother’s voice called to them over the rush of the sink faucet.
“Besides, you’ll need to pick up the boys later, and the soccer fields are on the other side of town, dear. You don’t need to be running all over the place for my benefit.”
Gina threw her sister a withering look. “Ash Lake is the size of the Gateway price club building, Nana,” she protested, her voice lowering as Nana returned to the living room to paw through another box. “It’s not like we’d have to drive you all the way to St. Augustine.”
“Ronnie, shouldn’t this go in the bathroom?” Nana produced a toilet brush and ceramic cow-shaped holder, a gift from a relative of Jim’s who had the idea that the Lords nurtured a cow fetish.
Ronnie shook her head. Alger women were inherently stubborn, and she knew if she did not say anything Gina and Nana would be carping at each other for the rest of their stay. “Actually, Nana, Father Joel will be taking that box of stuff with him, for the thrift shop. Oh, there he is now.”
The distant rumble of a diesel engine penetrated Ronnie’s thoughts, and within seconds three curious faces filled the living room window as a large white panel truck bobbled around a corner and into the driveway behind Ronnie’s Firebird. Three male heads poked up from behind the dashboard. Ronnie instantly recognized Father Joel at the wheel, his dark brown hair concealed by a Jacksonville Jaguars baseball cap. The boy leaning against the passenger side window, with the shock of jet-black hair and matching wrap-around sunglasses, was unfamiliar. Probably somebody sent to the church ministry to fulfill some kind of community service. Father found most of his helpers that way.
The young man sandwiched between the two, however, did look familiar. That became more apparent as the passenger side door opened and a lanky, tall boy wearing a muscle T-shirt and tight black jeans spilled out onto the sidewalk behind Jet Black. The boy raked thick, blond bangs from his face and squinted into the sun.
A soft gasp from Gina told Ronnie that she, too, recognized Landon Dennis, one of the pair hired by Arthur to steal Lorena’s body the previous year.
Two
Gina was out of the house and nearly touching noses with the startled priest before Ronnie could tell her sister to calm down. Instead she and Nana were forced to follow her onto the small patch of grass that served as Ronnie’s new front lawn. Half-moon shaped stones bordered the small rectangular area, which Ronnie immediately noticed had already been befouled by a neighboring dog.
“Hell,” she muttered as she nearly missed stepping squarely into the mound of stinky brown glop. “Gina, would you leave the poor man alone? They’re just delivering a couch!”
Father Joel appeared pale and ready to shrink into the side of the truck as Gina admonished him. “This is the boy who dug up Lorena’s coffin and cut off her finger for ransom!” she shrieked. “How could you possibly allow him to work at the church?”
“I don’t think he’s going to try to steal her again, Gina,” Ronnie said pointedly, risking a glance at the now frightened Landon Dennis. Jet Black, meanwhile, was leaning against the extended driver side mirror and watching the exchange with some amusement. Ronnie could sense whatever respect Father Joel had earned from the boy dissolve with every second Gina’s mouth stayed open wide. Quickly she rounded the front of the truck and ge
stured toward her open front door.
“The couch goes into the living room, guys,” she told Landon and Jet Black. “My grandmother will show you where to put it, okay? Nana?”
Startled to attention at the mention of her name, Nana turned and greeted the priest’s helpers with a gracious smile. “Of course, just bring it inside the living room,” she said, and backpedaled into the townhouse as Jet Black shrugged and loped to the back of the truck.
“I got sodas in the fridge when you’re done. I know Father’s had you guys delivering stuff all morning,” Ronnie added, then turned to leave when the faint flicker of a smile upturned Landon’s lips. He appeared ready to speak, but as if in afterthought he turned a heel and joined his friend.
“Gina, I can assure you nothing is amiss here,” Father Joel was saying as Ronnie joined the two. Father cast a worried glance behind his shoulder and lowered his voice. “Landon was assigned to fulfill his community service at the church in retribution for his crime, and if you ask me, it’s done him a world of good. The boy has changed, and it’s not an act.”
Gina folded her arms and scowled. “I can’t believe you’re letting that boy into your house, giving him sodas,” she hissed at Ronnie. “After all the pain he caused us.”
“Lay off, Gina. At worst, the boy is just stupid, not evil.” Ronnie, too, kept her voice low as Jet Black came into view on the other side of the truck, holding high one end of a plush green sofa by the curled arm. He appeared to be chatting with Landon in between grunts, and both looked too involved in their work to care what the sisters were saying. Ronnie relaxed a bit.
“How would you say working at the church has changed him?” Ronnie directed this at the priest, who shifted in place and plunged his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans.
“If you ask me, just being at the church puts him into contact with a better class of people, and it’s rubbing off on him. We’ve had him working the thrift shop and building maintenance… the first week he acted so timidly because people were being nice to him, probably for a change. Sometimes he stays later than needed,” he said. “I’ve heard nothing but praise from his parole officer, and he’s actually considering joining the church. Just the other day he asked for an RCIA booklet.”
Pray for Us Sinners, a Cozy Mystery (A Ronnie Lord Mystery, #2) (The Ronnie Lord Mysteries) Page 2