Into the Light

by Bernard Burgess

  Chapter Eleven: Seeking Clues

  Becky entered the Coldsmoke Coffee House a few minutes before 8:00 on Thursday morning. Pastor Marvin Finegan was already at a table and he motioned for her to join him. He was a somewhat tall and good-looking man, just as Lizzie had said. They had their introductions and ordered coffee.

  “Well, what’s up, Miss Thompson?” he asked.

  “Just call me Becky,” she said. “You used to be a minister over in Red Lodge. Right?”

  “Yes. Why?”

  “You must have been a good one; and popular,” she said. “A guy, who wants to remain behind the scenes right now, knew I was coming through here and was wondering if you’d consider returning there. I think he’s on a board trying to find candidates.”

  He shifted in his seat and sipped his coffee before answering. “No, I don’t think so. I’m flattered that anyone would want me back there, though.”

  “Are you married?” Becky asked. “Is that because of family?”

  “Yes, kind of. We have a four-year-old child and would not want to uproot from Bozeman. We’ve settled into this community, my wife is from here, and our daughter is in a wonderful daycare facility.”

  “I understand,” she said. “So, you’re settled and happy in Bozeman and there’s really nothing to pull you back to Red Lodge.”

  He smiled at her. “Yes, Becky. When I left Red Lodge, I had personal reasons and do not intend to go back there, even to visit.”

  “Bad blood there. I understand that.”

  He became serious. “Not bad blood just made some errors in judgment and want to keep them behind me. I want to stay focused on my ministry here and on my wife and daughter. Please don’t tell them that. Just say that I’m very happy here and don’t want to leave. I do appreciate being considered, though.”

  Becky had her answers. He apparently didn’t know about Summer and had no interest in finding out. “Well, sir, I sure appreciate all that and will relay your desires. Thanks for meeting with me and for the coffee. I do have to be going. I’m trying to be in Boise before dark. Better say good-bye.”

  As she guided her Dodge truck on the road to Boise, with the sun to her back in the southeastern sky and blue sky and mountains ahead of her, she thought about the meeting. On the one hand, she felt she could rule out Finegan as wanting to know about Lizzie or any child she had. On the other hand, though, she had a growing unease. If Finegan wasn’t behind the strange surveillance, then who was?

  During the remaining seven hours drive to Boise, Becky continued to ponder that troubling question. Was she misreading the apparent surveillance and was there another, innocent, explanation for it? If it was a surveillance, she’d assumed it was on Lizzie’s family, Summer in particular. What if there was another purpose? Could they be gathering information on herself, and not on Summer. If so, who would be interested in me, she thought to herself.

  By the time she was closing in on Boise, she was arriving at another disturbing possibility. When she divorced her abusive husband, he had tried to act all apologetic and remorseful. She knew it was an act, and knew he was mad as hell. That was one of the reasons she left the area and pursued a career as a private investigator. She was afraid of him and wanted to get as far from him as possible. Was he jealous and vindictive enough to have her followed? To try to get even. As she drove the last few miles into Boise and looked for a motel, she knew the answer was yes. She knew that she had better be extra vigilant from now on.

  That evening, Becky had her daily call with Bert and Norah. Besides getting the Boise contact numbers for Father Stewart and Sister Frances, she brought up her concerns about the mysterious P.I. who might be surveilling her. They became instantly serious and Norah relayed that she was getting a bad feeling about that. Nothing specific, Bert said, but when Norah received an impression about something, it was worth considering. Bert reviewed his questions about Father DelFranco. Then they ended the call. Becky called the phone numbers for the Boise contacts, but it was after hours and she could only leave a message. She’d have to call first thing in the morning.

  In keeping with Bert and Norah’s tradition, Becky began to research Boise and glean some facts about her host city. The popular mountain city was close to all things natural and was a tourist destination known for its many attractions, including skiing. Its population of about 220,000, included a large Basque community, and the town square was often the center of their very colorful and fun dances. At an elevation of almost 3000 feet, it had a moderate climate. She knew she could expect the average winter nighttime temperature to be in the mid-twenties and daytime highs in the forties. A man named Spalding had introduced Idaho to the potato, for which the state had become famous. The mountain bluebird, appaloosa horse, and cutthroat trout were all state symbols. Boise State University was known as a research university and the Broncos were a football powerhouse. Founded in 1932 by the Episcopal Church, it now had a student population of over 25,000.

  Satisfied with her new knowledge of her surroundings, Becky turned off the light near her motel bed and closed out the day. The next day would bring new challenges in helping gather information for her boss.

  ***

  Bert and Norah looked out their Nebraska City motel room window at the first rays of sun peeking through the departing clouds stretching toward the eastern horizon. Through the partly cloudy sky overhead, small patches of blue sky were becoming visible. It would still be a few hours for the road crews to finish plowing out the streets and roads, but this Thursday morning gave promise to a fairly nice day.

  Bert took Missy out for her beloved morning walk to their favorite field south of town. The snow had stopped during the night and there was only a light wind now, although it was still a chilly fourteen degrees. She barely noticed the cold, it seemed, with her thick winter coat. Bert thought she practically smiled as she ran around the field, bounding in and out of the drifts.

  After returning to the motel and having coffee while talking with Norah, they decided to call Gennie and see if she’d had any luck with church phone records. Gennie said she might have some good news. At the request of area churches, their phone records were maintained for ten years. She would pull up the five lines for the Holy Mother church and see if she could correlate any calls with the pay phone on the day Vicki disappeared. Bert thanked her profusely and gave the good news to Norah. Maybe they were finally going to get somewhere with the phone issue.

  Next he called teenager Dori and chatted with her a few minutes. Her school was cancelled for the morning, so she had a little time. He told her about his concerns with Janice Campbell’s spirit and asked if she’d continue trying to communicate with her some more and try to find out any additional information. Dori agreed and said she’d drive over to the church as soon as the roads were cleared this morning.

  He then called Robert and gave him an update on the case, even though they didn’t have much more concrete information to go on. He asked if his mother had much interaction with Father DelFranco. Robert was quiet for a while and finally said that she didn’t as far as he knew. He said he really couldn’t remember much about any of that. It made him uncomfortable and Bert could tell he was anxious to get off the phone.

  With this all done, he asked Norah if she was ready to stroll around the church grounds. She was, so they loaded Missy and drove the few miles to the Holy Mother Church. There were two to four-foot drifts along the sides of the road and streets, but they were mostly well cleared. Nebraskans knew how to deal with snow.

  As for snow, the church grounds were covered with an average of nearly a foot of snow from the storm, and drifts made it more or less deep. They knew Missy wouldn’t mind the snow and drifts since they were like a playground for her. They began a slow but methodical walk through the snow around the grounds, looking for anything that might be a clue.

  Many of the shrubs and trees were evergreens, probably obtained from the Arbor Day Foundation, which was just a few miles up the road. Bert
and Norah could tell that much of the landscaping and greenery were around five or six years old, in keeping with when the updates were made. Nothing stood out at all.

  Bert Paused to look at the groundskeeper building. It was a nicely painted, wood-frame, building about ten by twelve feet dimension. It was nearly hidden by the shrubbery planted neatly around it, as if to make it less conspicuous. Above the double doors was a brightly colored sign, stained wood with dark green letters. It read “Saint Brigit.” They found it interesting that a groundskeeper shed would be named for a saint. This was the Catholic Church, though. They continued walking around the church itself, admiring both the architecture and the shrubbery.

  Before they left, Bert stopped by the church office to say hello. A different lady was the volunteer secretary at that time. The middle-aged woman, named Tamara, was a very cheerful sort, and she greeted Bert warmly. She had been volunteering there for many years, she told him.

  “May I ask you about the renovation that took place a few years ago?” he asked her.

  She nodded in agreement.

  “I find it unusual for a groundskeeper shed to be named after a saint. Do you know any of the history behind that?”

  “All I know is that Father DelFranco wanted that name fixed to the shed. I think he found it amusing or something. For some reason he thought that was appropriate.”

  Bert pondered her words for a minute. “Okay, that’s very interesting. Thanks for your time, Ma’am.”

  As they departed the church and were returning to the doghouse, they saw Dori as she was getting out of her car. They walked over to her and greeted her. She said she was just getting there to see if she could contact Janice’s spirit.

  “I see you’ve been over to the caretaker shed, judging by the tracks. You’re the only one on the grounds today.” Dori laughed.

  Bert replied, “Yeah, we just wandered around there.”

  “Did you happen to see Janice around there?” Dori asked. “I sometimes see her hanging around there as well as by the side door or inside the church around the altar.”

  “No, sure haven’t seen her at all today,” Bert said as he contemplated Dori’s words. “So, you often see her by that shed?”

  “Yes, occasionally she’s just hanging around the shed, kinda looking lost. Of course, she kinda looks lost all the time,” Dori sighed.

  Bert’s mind was processing the growing list of questions. He needed to go back inside the church and ask a favor of the secretary, Tamara. He wished Dori luck on her attempt to reach out to Janice and said he’d check with her later to see if she had any success.

  He and Norah went back into the church and located the secretary, who had stepped out into the events room. Bert asked her if she happened to have a key to the shed and if she’d be okay with taking him out to look inside.

  Tamara retrieved the key from a lockbox in the office and escorted Bert to the shed. He apologized to her for making her go out into the cold and snow. She laughed it off and said she didn’t mind at all. She unlocked the door and stepped aside.

  Inside it was well organized with rakes, hoes, shovels, loppers, and so forth hanging neatly from hooks on the walls. A riding lawn mower took up the lion’s share of the floor space. The floor was made of poured cement, which looked professionally done. It was just a well arranged shed, nothing else stood out to him.

  After they got back to the doghouse and were driving away, Norah finally spoke. “Honey, I didn’t see anything there of note. However, I had this strange sense of dread come over me. I feel the shed has a connection to at least Janice. Maybe she was killed there, and her body taken someplace to be hidden.”

  “At this point, anything seems possible, Norah,” he said. “That could explain why her spirit is hanging around here occasionally. But it doesn’t get us much closer to finding either or both.”

  “Bert, I’m seeing that portal thing again. It’s both strange and sinister. I have no idea what to make of it, Sweetheart, but it kinda scares me.”

  He could feel her fear. “The way you describe it, it does seem very sinister and threatening, Honey. Perhaps it’s …” He was interrupted by the ringing of his phone.

  After a brief call with Gennie, the phone company clerk, he looked at Norah and brought her up to speed. Gennie had found a record of a call made by someone from the pay phone by the Buck Snort Bar at 12:42 p.m. on the day Vicki disappeared. The call went to the office at the Holy Mother Catholic Church.

  “We can’t prove that Vicki made that call, Honey, but it sure makes it more plausible that she called someone at the church during her lunch with her son. Where there’s smoke, there may be fire, and this seems to establish a link between her disappearance and the church. The question is, who did she call there?” He stopped the car in front of their motel and turned off the ignition.

  “Bert, my understanding is that someone is available at the office during normal business hours. When a volunteer or secretary isn’t available, then one of the nuns, the Mother Superior, or even the Father may have to sit in at times.”

  “That’s how I understood it as well, Sweetheart. I doubt there is any way to know who was at that phone on the day Vicki vanished.”

  Norah answered with her usual wisdom. “You’re probably right about that, Honey. However, I think we can assume that the person she talked with had some connection with her apparent death.”

  “Good assumption, babe, however, the connection doesn’t necessarily have to be direct involvement. Perhaps the call just confirmed that someone else, even a volunteer, was there at that time. The person answering the call may not have had any idea of the significance.”

  “You’re right, Bert, but my theory is more likely.” She smiled that big smile which always made him give in.

  “Something else keeps nagging at me, Honey,” he said. “Maybe it’s nothing, but why name a maintenance shed after a saint?”

  They were back in the motel room and Norah had taken her usual place near the head of the bed. She pulled up her legs and placed her arms around her knees, a favorite position for thinking. “Bert, I don’t know anything about Saint Bridgit. Maybe you can find something online.”

  He agreed and began to search for information about the Celtic Deity, who was also known by several names, including Brigit, Brigid, Brigitta, and Brigantia. Her former Pagan tie is evidenced by her feast day of February 1st, the date of the Pagan festival of Imbolc, when the ewes begin to give their milk. She was considered in Scottish lore as the midwife of the Virgin Mary. Numerous holy wells were dedicated to her. She was known in Roman times as the Nymph Goddess, and several rivers in Britain and Ireland are named after her.

  “So, what does any of that have to do with a maintenance shed?” Norah asked.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it,” he said. “I wonder who knows more of the history about that shed? Tamara said she’d been volunteering at the church for many years. Maybe there’s more to that than meets the eye. Perhaps she knows something. Patty might know some of the history, also. Maybe we should have lunch with her.”

  Norah’s red hair shimmered as she nodded in agreement and gave him that big smile which always melted his heart. Thank God, he thought to himself, that her spirit possessed the best of the living person’s personality and characteristics. It was easy to stay in love with her, in both dimensions. He called Patty and arranged to meet her for lunch at Johnny’s Corner Café.

  Following another brief walk for Missy around the motel and the short drive downtown to the café, Bert, with Norah beside him, walked up to the table where Patty was already waiting. Greeting her with a hug, he sat, ordered, and began talking with her.

  Patty said she’d never been to the site of the shed before but was aware of some kind of wooden structure there before the current shed was built. It was kind of like a platform of some kind, she told him. She’d just had glimpses of it from a distance, during the few times she walked on the grounds. It was somewhat overgrown with b
ushes at that time and was hard to see much. She hadn’t found it very interesting. The new shed with its accompanying new shrubbery was much prettier and more enchanting, she thought.

  They finished the nice lunch, with some discussion about the town and area. Bert was always interested in the places he traveled through. She told him she had to go see Bobby Boy that afternoon. It was something she felt she had to keep doing for Vicki.

  “Bobby Boy,” Bert repeated. “Was that a pet name that Vicki had for him? I heard you use it the other day, too.”

  “Oh, yes,” she said, “Vicki used that nickname a lot when it was just the two of them, and sometimes when I was around. He kind of liked it, I think.”

  “Okay, interesting how pet names come about. You could probably write a book about that subject if so inclined. However, we, I mean I, need to go. I have some other things to check into. I also need to talk with our other investigator out in Idaho. By the way, we’ve confirmed that a call, most likely from Vicki, was made to the church during lunch with Robert on the day Vicki vanished. Any idea who she might have spoken with?”