On Saturday morning Sister Mary Helen awoke feeling uneasy? As far as she could remember she had slept well and had not had any disturbing dreams. Yet the feeling was there and it filled her whole body with the cold, lonely, unsettling squeeze of dread. It was Erma, of course!
Outside, a steady rain now hit against her window. The gutter at the end of the convent building gurgled. Poor Luis had forgotten to clean out the pine needles-again.
She recognized the hum of the vacuum cleaner. It was drifting up from somewhere downstairs. Vacuum cleaner! She must have overslept. Suddenly awake, Mary Helen checked the alarm clock on her bed stand. It had stopped. Fumbling for her glasses, she focused on her wristwatch. Nine o’clock! She sat up, shaken. If she hurried she’d just have time to dress, gulp down some breakfast, and get to Erma’s apartment for the ten-thirty meeting.
“Why didn’t you wake me up?” She stared accusingly at Eileen the moment she found her. And she spotted her, reading the Chronicle, in the coffee room off the college kitchen.
“I thought you could use the extra rest,” Eileen answered placidly, looking up over the morning paper. “And I knew I was sure to run into you here if I just stayed put.”
“Do you know what time it is? We’ve got to hurry!” Impatiently, Mary Helen blew on her coffee.
“Not we, old dear. You.” This time Eileen didn’t even look up.
“When you’re in a rush, nothing works right,” Mary Helen fussed, sitting in the driver’s seat of the convent’s Nova. She pushed on the automatic garage-door opener. The thick door didn’t budge.
“You try it.” She handed the opener to Eileen, who aimed it first at the door, then at the ceiling, and finally halfway in between. Although the overhead motor made a growling sound, the door still did not move.
“Poor Allan Boscacci.” Eileen shoved the broken opener into the glove compartment. “Therese will have him on the horn before night falls.”
“What do we do now?” At the moment, Mary Helen didn’t care about anyone else’s problems.
“When in doubt, bail out.” With a determined look on her face, Eileen headed for the heavy door.
She must be picking up that corn from Lucy Lyons, Mary Helen thought, following her. Between the two of them, they were able, with much grunting and puffing, to push the door open.
The nuns arrived at Erma’s apartment just in time for the meeting. “As a matter of fact, we are a few minutes early,” Eileen remarked, passing their wet raincoats and dripping umbrellas to Lucy. Caroline, Noelle, Mr. Finn, and Erma’s daughter stood just inside the dim living room.
“I’ll hang these over the bathtub,” Lucy said, then grinned. “With all the other drips.”
She just can’t help herself, Mary Helen thought, hoping Eileen hadn’t heard the crack. Yet even she couldn’t help smiling at the spry little woman disappearing into Erma’s bedroom.
“Everyone is right on time,” Noelle began before Lucy returned. She motioned for the group to sit, which they did. All, that is, except Erma’s daughter, Ree. The girl stood by the living-room window, sniffling and nervously glancing first at the street below, then toward Noelle, then finally around the living room at the assembled group.
“The boys said they’d be here,” she explained, tugging at the back of her overblouse.
“That’s fine.” Noelle peered over the top of her half glasses. The blue of her silk scarf accented the blue of her eyes and made them even more penetrating.
“Shall we begin?” Without waiting for an answer, she continued, “I trust we were all successful.”
Who would dare be otherwise? Mary Helen wanted to ask, but thought better of it.
“Would you like to give the first report, Caroline?”
Caroline, looking pert in her saucy little rain hat, paused until she had everyone’s undivided attention. Even Ree, who must have noticed the silence, turned from the window and sat on the sill.
“The college’s alumnae office was most helpful,” she began, with a smile toward the nuns. Fat chance they wouldn’t be, thought Mary Helen, smiling back.
“Lucy and I went though the alumnae records for the late thirties. As you know, that was when Erma graduated.” She glanced toward the window to include Ree. “We found your Aunt Barbara.”
Drawing in her breath, Caroline swallowed. The silent room grew even more still with expectation. Next to her, Mary Helen could feel Mr. Finn shifting forward. Across the room, she noticed Eileen crossing fingers on both her hands. Her own stomach roiled.
“Unfortunately…” Caroline began. Suddenly, the room seemed to deflate. “Barbara-whose maiden name, incidentally, was Barbara Quinn-has not heard from Erma. And, frankly, she is quite upset. She feels that if Erma were in the area, she would surely have called. I’m afraid that rather than solving anything, our investigation has simply upset another person.”
Noelle let Caroline’s observation ride on the air without comment. “I contacted the St. Louis Police Department, which graciously checked the city’s hospitals for me.” Noelle paused long enough to light a cigarette. Mary Helen was surprised she had waited this long. “Fortunately, Erma’s name was not on any of their lists.” She moved an ashtray from the coffee table to the arm of her chair.
“I didn’t get nowhere, either, with the union.” Blinking his eyes, Finn put his elbows on his knees and clenched his hands together. “I called the waitresses’ union and the bartenders’, too, just in case.
“Gal on the phone didn’t know nothing about Erma, ‘No record of her applying for membership here,’ she says.” Finn’s voice cracked and, for a moment, Mary Helen wondered if he was going to cry. Instead, he bent forward, resting his forehead in his hands.
For several seconds, the six women sat staring at the top of his threaded pate. The poor fellow, Mary Helen thought. He really does care for Erma. Funny, Erma had never mentioned him. Relationships, she remembered reading somewhere recently, are a pervading and changing mystery. How true! For the present, the relationship between Erma and Finn surely was a mystery-to her, at least. And that didn’t seem to be the only mystery the group had discovered. A sudden chill made Mary Helen hug herself.
“Now, now!” Lucy’s voice cut through the gloom. “Let’s not get down in the dumps,” she said, in what Mary Helen thought must be a superhuman effort to be optimistic, even for Lucy. “It’s not all bad news. After all, Noelle called the police and hospitals. And there was no word of Erma there. So far as we know, nothing bad has happened to her.”
Trying to push away apprehension from the edge of her mind, Mary Helen forced herself to nod at Lucy.
Encouraged, Lucy looked hopefully from person to person. “Think positive!” Her voice rose higher. Mary Helen couldn’t help but notice the hint of anxiety. “We can’t let ourselves even imagine that something has happened to our friend.”
Across from her, Mary Helen watched Eileen, who was visibly trying to cheer up. “Lucy is right,” she said. “We must have faith that everything will turn out just dandy. We’ll get nowhere unless we keep our spirits up.”
Lucy picked up steam. “After all, the Sisters have been praying,” she said.
Eileen nodded. For a fleeting second, Mary Helen feared the two optimists might break into a duet of “Pack Up Your Troubles.”
“Besides”-Lucy’s eyes were wide behind her horn-rimmed glasses-“we still have to hear from…”
As though on cue, the roar of a motorcycle thundered through the small room. Over the noise, Lucy finished her sentence: “the boys,” she shouted.
“What the hell happened to Ma?” A deep voice ricocheted off the walls of the narrow staircase, as heavy footsteps stomped up toward them.
The vision that loomed on the top step was something, Mary Helen imagined, that could have come right out of a B movie about the Hell’s Angels. Stunned, the group just stared.
“I asked you guys a question.” Hands on hips, the thick-bodied young man glared back at them, his bare chest swelling inside his leather vest. Actually his chest was the only thing about him that was bare. The rest of him was covered with hair and leather and chains and tattoos.
“Where the hell is the old lady?” he shouted at no one in particular.
Recovering from the initial shock, Caroline pulled herself up to her majestic best “You must be Junior,” she said so icily that even Junior froze on the spot Mary Helen cringed. As if they weren’t having enough trouble! All they needed now was a verbal battle. Although if there was to be one, she had no doubt whatsoever about who would win.
“We can fully appreciate your concern for your mother,” Caroline continued, bestowing a look of regal understanding on the peasant before her. “And we sympathize. It is plain to see that you care about the old lady, even though, I believe, that is a misnomer. Your concern is further attested to, of course, by the fact that you have immortalized her on your thorax.” She pointed a long finger toward his chest.
Junior frowned, puzzled. Mary Helen knew he wasn’t quite sure whether he had been complimented or insulted. She swallowed the urge to laugh.
In the uncomfortable silence that filled the room while he was trying to decide, Ree sniffled nervously. “This is my brother,” she said, motioning at a young man nearly hidden behind Junior. “This is Buddy.”
“Excuse me.” Buddy edged his way around the elder Duran and toward Ree.
At first glance, Mary Helen was taken aback. Although he was slight, his resemblance to Erma was uncanny. Like his mother, he was short, curly-haired, and had the same brown eyes and round face. She felt a sudden ache. How she wished good old Erma would walk into the room right now, smile, and give them each that little squeeze of hers.
Buddy kissed Lucy on the cheek, shook Finn’s hand, and smiled warmly at the group of women he didn’t know.
He was so gentle and polite that, at first, Mary Helen hardly noticed his earrings. To her knowledge, the only men who ever wore an earring were sailors who had crossed the international date line. Recently, she had noticed lots of sailors in San Francisco.
When she mentioned this, Sister Anne had explained they weren’t all sailors. Depending on whether the earring was in the right or left ear, Anne had said, it indicated that the wearer was either straight or gay. Although, to save her life, Mary Helen could never remember which was which. But this Buddy had an earring in each ear. She would have to question Anne on that one.
“Buddy is an artist,” Lucy announced proudly. “Right now he works part-time as a docent at the De Young Museum. But someday he’ll be famous.”
Embarrassed, Buddy shrugged. “I’m not really an artist yet,” he said.
Regardless, he looked the part-from his sandals to his rose-tinted glasses, earrings, and the wispy tail of hair curling down the scrawny nape of his neck.
“Now that the boys are here we’ll get back to business,” Noelle said, being very careful, Mary Helen noted, not to ask about Junior’s line of work. “If you’ll just take a seat, we can proceed.”
Junior recovered his voice, but the interval had not improved his manners. “What the hell happened to the old lady?” he shouted, ignoring Noelle’s rules of order. “Ree says she’s missing.” He swaggered toward the center of the room.
“If anything happens to her, you bastard”-he took a menacing step toward Finn-“you’ve me to answer to. Got that?” He pointed a thick finger at the man’s bald head. Mary Helen was startled to see that the nail was gnawed to the quick.
Stiffening, Finn met Junior’s dare with hard hazel eyes, the little yellow specks in them quivering. “Is that so, Junior?” Finn clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “If I was you, sonny boy, I’d be real careful who I call a bastard and who I’d pick to get tough with.”
Taken aback, Mary Helen watched the usually polite, accommodating Mr. Finn rise. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise with him. A verbal battle was one thing; a real one was something else again!
Deliberately flexing his muscles, Junior glowered at Finn. The Mother and heart tattooed on his chest seemed to swell.
Much to Mary Helen’s chagrin, Finn didn’t back down even an inch. “You, sonny boy, was the one here pestering her the day she took off.” He nodded toward the young man with contempt. “You and your lousy motorcycle and your lousy mouth.”
Enraged, Junior set his jaw, pulled back his thick right arm, and squared off. Mary Helen was sure he was ready and able to throw the first punch.
Before she realized what she was doing, she was up from her chair and standing between the two.
“That will do!” she said in a voice that had stopped many a school-yard brawl midpunch.
Despite their anger both men stopped, shocked. But neither, Mary Helen was certain, felt as shocked as she did. There are some habits that just don’t leave you. Swallowing hard, she met their stares with one of her own.
“I said, That will do!”
Scowling, the men studied her. She wondered for a moment if either one would try to test her.
“Sit down!” she commanded, not bothering to consider what she would do if either one of them didn’t.
Just as she suspected, it was Junior who caved in first.
A general sense of relief descended on Erma’s living room the moment the boys left. As the roar of the motorcycle faded farther and farther into the distance, the atmosphere became almost festive.
Lucy giggled. “Let me get us all a glass of wine,” she offered. “I know exactly where Erma keeps the hooch. She would want us to have one and, God knows, about now we need it!”
“Good heavens, Lucy! It’s still morning,” Noelle protested, more for appearance than anything else, Mary Helen suspected.
“It’s four o’clock somewhere!” Lucy called, clinking bottles in a cupboard under the sink.
“There’s an old saying we have back home,” Eileen piped up. Mary Helen winced, knowing full well the old saying Eileen had in mind. “ ‘We may as well be drunk as the way we are!’ ” Eileen took the stemmed glass from Lucy.
“Here’s to our success in locating Erma.” Noelle, determined to remain their leader, proposed the toast. Smiling, they all raised their glasses.
“And to Sister Mary Helen who, thank God, did not get her block knocked off!” Lucy added.
Still a little shaken, Sister Mary Helen felt a lump begin to form in her throat. To good old Erma Duran-she thought, trying to smile brightly-wherever she is. And please, Lord, help us to find that out. Fast! Before we have any more mornings like this one.
Caroline fished in her Louis Vuitton clutch bag for her gloves. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.
As a matter of form, Noelle consulted her peacock-blue pocket calendar. “Tomorrow, as you know, is Sunday and Mother’s Day, to boot,” she said. “We all have obligations, I am sure, so I propose we meet at the same time on Monday. If no one has heard from Erma by then, I feel we not only could but should report her as a missing person.”
“Monday? But Mommy would never be away from us on Mother’s Day without calling.” Ree’s round face was flushed and she looked dangerously close to tears. The strain of the last week was beginning to tell on her.
“Relax, Ree.” Finn, who had apparently regained his composure, twirled the stem of his empty wineglass between his fingers. “It’s not like we don’t know where she said she’d be. Besides”-he stood up and set his glass on the coffee table-“I’ve got a hunch she’ll call tomorrow.”
“You and your hunches!” Ree’s large eyes narrowed with resentment. She pulled her mouth into a pout but said no more. Mary Helen was glad. She didn’t know if her nerves were up to another fight.
Mumbling something about checking on supplies in the kitchen, Finn had the good sense to leave.
Caroline moved to the edge of her chair, poised to go.
“Has anyone anything further to add?” Apparently, Noelle sensed the meeting was getting ready to break up. She glanced in Caroline’s direction.
“I have nothing to add.” Caroline stood and tilted her beautifully coiffured head of champagne-colored hair. “I would just like to concur with Noelle”-she gazed around the room, innocently batting her eyes-“that if by Monday Erma has not yet been heard from, we should either pee or get off the pot.”
She swept from the room and down the stairs, leaving the rest of the group questioning their hearing.
“Thank God she cleaned it up a bit for present company.” Noelle gathered up her blue paisley umbrella. “Monday morning, then? Here at ten-thirty,” she reiterated, then followed Caroline.
Standing, Mary Helen straightened her skirt and checked her wristwatch. Not even noon, and nothing to do but mark time until Monday. For whatever reason, she felt a little uneasy about the wait. Yet maybe Mr. Finn was right. Maybe Erma would call and they would all feel foolish for having worried. She looked to see if her friend was ready to go.
“Let me get your raincoats.” Lucy bustled toward Erma’s bedroom with Eileen close behind. Mary Helen followed.
The moment she stepped across the threshhold, a dampness made her shiver. Suddenly lightheaded, she stopped. Although the room was chilly, perspiration broke out on her forehead. Her palms felt clammy. She tried to take a deep breath and pull herself together, but she could barely swallow. The inside of her mouth felt so furry. The room was tilting around her.
Could it be the wine on an almost empty stomach? Or was it something else? Something unseen yet felt in Erma’s bedroom? Was it the same foreboding-a premonition perhaps, that had made her so uneasy when she awoke this morning?
Don’t be silly, old girl. Those things only happen in your mystery stories, Mary Helen told herself. Yet she could feel her legs begin to tremble. She grabbed for the end of Erma’s bed to keep from falling.
“Glory be to God, you look like the wreck of the Hesperus.” Eileen stood in front of her, a damp raincoat in each hand. “Sit down.” She nodded toward the bed. “Quickly!”
Still holding on, Mary Helen stumbled, then sat heavily on the foot of Erma’s bed. “All of a sudden, I’m just a little dizzy.”
“Put your head between your knees.” Lucy was beside Eileen in a moment. “Breathe deeply.”
Closing her eyes, Mary Helen did as she was told. The last thing anyone needed this morning was for her to faint.
The dizziness passed slowly. She blinked her eyes open and it was then that she saw it hanging down from under the edge of the bed: a gold chain with a large filigree-edged medal dangling from it. It was caught, caught on a bedspring. Mary Helen’s heart gave a jolt The medal looked familiar. Where had she seen it before? Her mind flashed back to New York, to Bloomingdale’s. The mugging! Erma’s medal. That’s what it was! She could see Erma, her chubby hand covering her throat. Her brown eyes troubled. What had she said? I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to this. Could it be the same-
Crouching down on the floor, Mary Helen dug at the spring from underneath the bed. She couldn’t reach it. She tilted her head to take a better look through her bifocals. Kneeling, she lifted the edge of the mattress and stuck her hand into one of the metal spirals.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph!” She heard Eileen before she felt her grabbing at her shoulders. “What in the name of God are you doing? What has gotten into you?”
“It’s Erma’s medal,” Mary Helen grunted, short of breath from holding up the mattress. As she spoke the chain came loose.
“Do you remember this?” She stood, medal and chain dangling in front of her. She tried to stop her hand from trembling.
Lucy’s horn-rimmed glasses and hazel eyes looked even darker against her pale face. “Erma’s Lady of Perpetual Help,” she whispered, as if speaking aloud would make the discovery more real. “What can this mean?”
Mary Helen was about to say she wished she knew, when a shrill voice cut through the room: “Mommy’s medal!” She had forgotten Ree was still there.
“I knew it! Something has happened to her. She would never leave without that medal. Never, never, never!” With each staccato never, Ree’s voice rose higher and higher.
One look at her contorted face told Mary Helen that the young woman was nearly out of control. “Your mother may have accidentally left it behind,” she said, hoping to calm her down. “Perhaps she doesn’t even know it’s gone yet,” she continued as logically as the hollow feeling in her heart would allow.
“Why don’t we just put it on her dresser? When she phones you can tell her it is here.” Hoping to distract her, Mary Helen held out the medal and chain toward Ree. She smiled, expecting Ree to take the necklace.
Instead, the woman looked wildly around the room. “Something has happened,” she screeched, beating her fist against her breast. “I just feel it here.”
Unfortunately, Mary Helen had the same sinking feeling in about the same place, but two of them falling apart wouldn’t help to find anyone.
“Something has happened! I knew it! You see, she’d never leave without it! Why doesn’t anyone want to help me find Mommy?” Her face darkened as she threw back her head. Twisting her mouth, she let out a piercing cry.
Unexpectedly, she lunged for the medal but caught Mary Helen’s forearm instead. Digging her fingers into the flesh, she began to shake her arm. “Never, never, never would she go without her medal! Why won’t you believe me?” Her dark eyes blazed.
Good night, nurse! Mary Helen thought, trying hard to keep her balance. What do I do now? She could feel Ree’s strong fingers setting her whole body churning.
“Stop it! Stop!” It was Lucy who came to her senses first. She threw her short arms around Ree, or at least as far around as they would go, and wrenched her away. “Come on, sweetie, settle down. Sit a minute,” she cooed, trying to lead her toward the bed.
“Let me go!” Flailing, Ree clawed at Lucy’s grasp. “I’ve got to find Mommy! I’ve got to!”
“Sister Eileen, get some brandy from under the sink.” Literally dragging the hysterical woman toward the bed, Lucy pushed her down and held her firmly. “Calm down!” she commanded, struggling against Ree’s sudden strength.
Cold water… splash her with cold water… Mary Helen remembered rushing into the bathroom to moisten a facecloth. Was that for hysteria or temper tantrums? she wondered, flinging the dripping cloth over the woman’s anguished face. Whichever, it worked.
Suddenly shocked, Ree caught a sharp breath.
“Here, dear. Sip slowly.” Eileen held a glass of brandy close to Ree’s lips.
Pushing the glass away, Ree crumpled onto the bed and buried her pudgy face in the pillow. Shoulders heaving, she began to sob. The three OWLs waited, silently watching.
All at once Mary Helen felt exhausted, as though someone had pulled a stopper and all her energy had run down the drain. No wonder! It had been quite a morning.
She rubbed her sore arm, thankful once again that she did not bruise easily. Although she didn’t actually believe in omens the way Eileen did, she should have suspected when she woke this morning with that uneasy feeling that the day was not going to be a good one. So far, it was turning out much worse than she could possibly have predicted.
First no word about Erma. Next Junior and Mr. Finn nearly coming to blows. Then finding Erma’s medal Now Ree’s hysteria. And it was barely lunchtime! She would have to check with Eileen to see if there was a full moon!
Sniffling, sobbing, hiccuping, Ree began to calm down. She pulled her tear-streaked face from the pillow, sat up, and reached for the glass of brandy.
“I’m sorry.” Her voice was thick. “But I know something awful has happened.” Puffy and flushed, she looked helplessly from face to face. “My mother never goes anywhere without that medal.”
Much as Mary Helen hated to admit it, Erma’s daughter was probably right.
“What should we do?” Ree’s swollen eyes were pleading.
Do? If we had any sense, Eileen and I would go straight home and take a nap, Mary Helen thought We’d let the group handle this thing on Monday. That’s what we’d do, if we had any sense. But what good ever comes from being too sensible?
“What should we do?” Ree repeated, then moaned.
Mary Helen’s stomach jumped. She wasn’t sure she could handle another attack of hysteria. “Do? I know exactly what we should not do,” she said.
Straightening her shoulders, she took a deep breath, prayed for fortitude, and pushed her bifocals up the bridge of her nose. “We should not wait until Monday morning. Get your coats, girls. Pull yourself together, Ree. We are going directly to the old Northern Station and report this to Inspector Honore.” She sincerely hoped he had drawn weekend duty.
“Oh, there you are, Inspector,” Mary Helen called cheerfully, hoping she didn’t sound like a poor imitation of Billie Burke playing the Good Witch of the North. Except for Honore, the large room was deserted. Apparently the Northern Station was closed. Rather than being on call, Inspector Honore may have come in to catch up on some paperwork, Mary Helen suspected.
She couldn’t tell from the frozen expression on his face whether he was glad or sorry to see them. She did, however, have her suspicions.
Momentarily she felt a twinge of guilt for upsetting his morning, but only momentarily. Her morning left his in the dust.
Carefully avoiding the old Royal typewriter on a rickety stand, she led her three companions down the narrow aisle to the far end of the station room.
“Don’t stand,” she said when Honore pushed back his swivel chair. “We’ll just sit” She surveyed the room for chairs.
Inspector Honore’s mother must have trained him better than that, she surmised, because he stood nevertheless.
“You remember Sister Eileen.” Mary Helen pointed to her friend, then felt silly. This man, after all, was in Missing Persons. How could he ever find anyone if he couldn’t recognize a nun he’d met yesterday?
He extended his pawlike hand. Mary Helen watched the seams of his jacket strain as Eileen and he shook hands. Apparently he had either done some weight lifting or put on a few pounds since buying the suit.
“This is Mrs. Lucy Lyons, a good friend of the woman I told you about”
Honore gave a hint of a smile. Not even a sphinx could help but smile back at Lucy.
Finally she introduced Ree. Honore, she noticed, did not miss the girl’s red face or her puffy eyes.
“What can I do for you, ladies?” He pulled over enough wooden chairs from the surrounding desks for all of them to sit down.
Again, his jacket seams strained as he reached into the inside pocket and extracted a Plen T Pak of Doublemint gum, the kind with seventeen sticks. He reminded her so much of Kojak that she had half expected him to pull out some Tootsie Pops. Inspector Honore offered the half-empty pack to the four women. When they refused, he peeled two sticks and pleated them into his mouth.
“Trying to quit smoking,” he explained.
The tight balls of silver foil in his ashtray indicated he was having quite a struggle. Honore cracked the wad in his mouth three times in just one chew.
“We’ve discovered something that makes us think that Erma Duran did not go to St. Louis. Or if she did, there are some mighty suspicious circumstances,” Mary Helen began, not wasting any time. With her nerves as frayed as they were, she wasn’t sure how long she’d be able to stand the gum-cracking.
“And what was it you discovered, Sister?” Honore settled back in his chair, rocking slightly.
“My mother’s medal and chain.” Ree dangled the gold medallion over the desk. Dropping it on top, she pointed despairingly at it. “She’d never leave without that,” she said. Her voice had an edge on it.
“You’re the daughter, ma’am?”
Obviously not trusting herself to speak, Ree nodded and fumbled in her coat pocket for a handkerchief.
“She’s very upset, Inspector,” Lucy explained, although Mary Helen was sure the inspector hadn’t missed that. “We were all upset when we found it. As Marie said, Erma would never go anywhere without that medal.”
“Never,” Ree repeated, her large eyes filling with tears.
Popping his gum, Honore rocked back in his chair and looked from woman to woman.
Trying to decide whether we are just being emotional or whether we are on to something that he shouldn’t ignore, Mary Helen thought. And we really can’t blame him. The gold medal and chain bunched up on his blotter did seem pretty insignificant for such a fuss.
Adjusting her bifocals, Mary Helen tried to look as levelheaded and sensible as possible. “That is why,” she said, “we have come to file an official missing-person report.”
Honore hesitated, as if he were about to say something. Instead, he rummaged through the wire basket on the corner of his desk. Finally he dug out a report form.
“Lots of missing persons turn up, Sister.” He foraged through his pencil holder until he located a sharpened one. “Sooner or later, anyway.”
Good night, nurse! I hope he’s better at finding people than he is at locating his paper and pencil! Impatiently, Mary Helen scooted forward in her chair.
“But let’s fill out a report, anyway, ma’am.” Honore turned the form sideways toward Ree. His tone said, If it’ll make you feel better.
Mary Helen strained to see. Her stomach gave a turn when she read SUSPICIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES/FOUL PLAY clearly printed at the top.
Ree answered Inspector Honore’s questions calmly, stumbling a little only over waist and bra size, which was understandable. One seldom thinks about those things in reference to one’s mother. Also, Mary Helen noticed that Erma’s daughter hesitated when he asked, “Probable destination?”
The police officer must have noticed too.
“What makes you think she didn’t go to St. Louis, ma’am?” he asked, cracking his gum again.
Mary Helen watched the young woman’s lower lip quiver. Oh, no! she thought. If the man even suspects we are being too emotional, one of Ree’s scenes will convince him he is right.
“She’d never go without her medal, Officer.” The words caught in Ree’s throat “That’s what makes me think that something bad has…” Poor Ree could go no further.
Again, Honore reached into his jacket pocket for his pack of gum. He peeled a piece and added it to the other two. Mary Helen wondered absently just how many pieces the fellow could chew at one time without his jaw getting sore.
“I know you ladies are worried.” He cracked the wad. “But what I’m trying to say is that lots of times older people go away for a while. Take a trip, you know. Their families get all upset, naturally. When they get back, they can’t figure out what all the fuss was about”
He paused and grinned. Almost patronizingly, Mary Helen thought.
“They just forget to tell anyone. Maybe on purpose, maybe not. All the proof you have that Mrs. Duran has met with foul play is this medal”-with his big hand he turned the medallion over-“and your feelings.”
Mary Helen bristled. She could feel her blood pressure rising. The inspector’s implication was clear. Erma was an old woman and, therefore, a bit dotty. Not only Erma, but Lucy and Eileen and herself as well. And Ree he had discounted completely! She could understand that their evidence was scanty, but really!
She set her lips. Her dimples must have started to show because she felt Eileen pat her knee with her take-it-easy-old-girl pat.
“Forgot to tell anyone!” Mary Helen said as evenly as she could manage. “Let me tell you something, young man. Erma Duran is a member of our OWL chapter-Older Women’s League, if you are unfamiliar with the acronym.
“Mrs. Duran, who, incidentally, is a college graduate, heads our committee on social-security reform. And, I might add, quite successfully. She has been active in helping welfare mothers, promoting senior-citizen health programs, and coordinating several letter-writing campaigns. In addition, she holds down a job.”
And probably keeps her employer and her children from killing one another, she wanted to add, but thought better of it. Old woman, indeed!
She glanced over at her companions. Both Eileen and Lucy were nodding, indignant expressions on their faces. Of the three, only poor. Ree looked a bit “spacey,” as Sister Anne would say. And that had nothing at all to do with age.
“And as for the medal, Inspector, it is a very precious possession of a very alert and intelligent woman.”
Poor Inspector Honore had stopped midchew. Sister Mary Helen suppressed an urge to smile. The big black Kojak looked for all the world as though someone had taken the proverbial wind smack out of his sails.
“Sister, I wasn’t implying-” he began.
“I should hope not, Inspector,” she said quickly, hoping to spare the fellow the rest of the fib. Mary Helen settled back in the wooden chair. “Now can we get on with the report?”
Looking eager to get their business finished and be rid of them, Inspector Honore thumbed through the wire basket on the corner of his desk and pulled out yet another form.
“Will you sign this, ma’am?” He shoved the paper toward Ree.
Mary Helen winced as she watched Ree’s lips move while she read the formal request. It authorized the dentist to release poor, dear old Erma’s dental records.
The rain had stopped by the time the four women arrived back at Erma’s apartment. Narrow patches of blue were beginning to show in the gray sky. Droplets of water stood out on the waxed hood of Lucy’s silver Mercedes. In fact, they had come back to the building so that Lucy could pick up her car.
“See you on Monday morning, Sisters,” she said. She turned the key and her heavy engine purred into action. Slowly the automatic window moved down. Mary Helen couldn’t help noting the worried frown on Lucy’s usually cheerful face.
“It will all work out. You’ll see!” she said, feigning good spirits. With a wave, she made a quick U-turn and disappeared up Sanchez Street toward her home.
Watching the silver car disappear, Mary Helen had the sudden urge to go home herself. She’d have a cup of soup, some hot buttered toast, then take a short nap. One look at Eileen and she knew her friend would be open to the suggestion.
Mary Helen turned toward Ree. Much as she would have liked to, she just couldn’t leave her standing there on the wet corner. “Can we drop you at your house?”
Ree shook her head, then sniffled. “I was going to go into Mommy’s for a minute. There might be something else in there.” Those big doe eyes looked pleadingly from nun to nun. Mary Helen knew what was coming before Ree said it “Will you come with me? I don’t want to go in there alone. I won’t stay long, I promise.”
Mary Helen felt uncomfortable going through Erma’s dresser drawers. Although they were sparse and tidy, a lot tidier than her own, she noticed, she just did not feel right. And she tried to avoid altogether looking at the black loose-leaf binder propped against the night-stand. Not that she would have touched it. Heaven forbid! Going through someone’s drawers was bad enough, but to invade another’s privacy by reading a journal! Whatever the circumstances, it was unthinkable.
For all they knew, the woman was perfectly safe somewhere and having a wonderful time. She’d be horrified to know that someone had pawed through her things.
Apparently Eileen was having trouble with the search, too, since the moment it started she excused herself to make them all a steaming cup of tea.
Furthermore, Mary Helen didn’t have the slightest idea what she should be looking for. These considerations didn’t stop Erma’s daughter. Ree had taken off her padded jacket and was rummaging through the closet and the nightstand, looking through old letters. Her ponytail swinging, she was generally “invading privacy,” as the saying goes.
Then, as if suddenly exhausted, the young woman plopped onto the end of her mother’s bed. The springs creaked under her weight.
“I knew it!” she muttered. “I just knew that something’s happened.”
A cold chill ran up Mary Helen’s spine. The fatalism in Ree’s voice made the hair on her neck prickle. “What do you mean?” she asked. “How do you know something’s happened?”
Letting her double chin sink to her breastbone, Ree wagged her head back and forth. “The check not coming. Bills piling up. Mommy being so worried before she went to the convention in New York. I just knew it!”
Sitting down beside her, Mary Helen put her arm around Ree’s chubby shoulders. “Did you ever ask your mother what was troubling her?”
“Yes, I asked her, but Mommy would never say. You know how she was, always wanting to make everyone happy. The most she ever did was point to that.” Turning, she stared accusingly at the large picture of Our Lady of Perpetual Help on the shelf in the corner as if the Madonna were somehow to blame. “ ‘She’ll take care of it,’ Mommy said. ‘And if anything should happen to me, look there.’ ”
Crossing the bedroom, Mary Helen stood in front of the picture. The large, sorrowful eyes of the Byzantine Madonna stared at her knowingly, sympathetically. The Christ Child in her arms, looking frightened, had one sandal dangling from His small foot. In each of the upper corners, an archangel hovered. One held a pot of hyssop, a sponge, and a spear, the other a large cross-clearly, the instruments of the Child’s passion and death.
Was Erma just being pious, or was there something there? The Erma Mary Helen knew may have been pious, but she was also practical. You don’t suppose she had taped a note or letter to the back? That only happens in mystery stories, old girl, she reminded herself, but just maybe… Mary Helen couldn’t resist. She removed the picture and carefully checked it inch by inch, patting the backing for an extra bulge.
Except for a layer of dust, the brown paper back of the picture was absolutely clear and flat. Only a small gold tag said that it had been purchased at Kaufer-Stadler Religious Goods Store on Market Street. Feeling a little foolish, Mary Helen hung the picture back on the hook.
“Right after we drink this, why don’t we all go home and take a little rest?” Eileen appeared in the doorway holding a tray. Mary Helen could see the steam rising from the three mugs. The sharp tang of orange filled the room.
“Sister Eileen’s right” Mary Helen handed Ree a mug and took one herself.
“For all we know, Mr. Finn’s hunch may be correct.” Eileen pursed her lips. “Your mother may just call tomorrow.”
“That’s right.” Mary Helen patted the woman’s knee. “After all, Sunday is Mother’s Day!” As soon as the words left her mouth, she wished she could catch them and push them back in again.
Ree’s dark eyes filled immediately and tears ran down her dimpled cheeks.
“Let me take you home.” Mary Helen pretended she didn’t notice the tears. “You’ve had-we’ve all had-a very hectic morning.”
Much to her relief, Ree wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand, sniffled, and stood up. “I live only a couple of blocks away.” She tugged at the back of her overblouse.
Silently, Eileen gathered up the cups to rinse. Mary Helen handed Ree her jacket Without comment she put it on. Looking remarkably like a Chinese pincushion, she walked into the living room and down the stairs.
Alone in the bedroom, Mary Helen snatched up the binder. After all, whatever was troubling Erma could well be written in her journal. From what Ree had just said, it was abundantly clear to Mary Helen that Erma did not want her daughter to know what it was. And with all this going through Erma’s things, Mary Helen had no way of telling just how long it would be before Ree discovered the binder.
She flipped through it. To her surprise most of the pages were blank. Erma had written on only a few. Quickly she ripped them out and shoved them into the side compartment of her pocketbook, where they would stay for safekeeping. Knowing Erma would be grateful, she zipped it shut.
“My house is right down here.” Ree pointed to a narrow street, really an alley, off 17th. The street sign read PROSPER. With a felt-tipped pen, some wag had added ITY.
The wooden houses along the short street might have once known prosperity, but no more. Several fronts extended at least six feet above the natural roofs. Mary Helen remembered reading some local history buff’s claim that the Italianate fronts were crafted back East, then shipped to the City. When they arrived it was clear that they were six feet too high. Immediately an Eastern extended roof became all the rage.
“The next one.” Ree pointed. Mary Helen pulled up to a pink house with long, narrow bay windows and fretwork along the top of its front.
“That’s my apartment.” Ree pointed again, this time to a door and square window cut into what was once the basement A flat metal mailbox by the door indicated a bona-fide apartment. Iron-blue hydrangeas bloomed in small patches on either side of the door.
“Aren’t those lovely!” Eileen remarked, to make conversation, Mary Helen assumed.
Ree just shrugged.
“Someone once told me he got that color by putting nails in the ground around them.” Eileen’s voice ended the sentence somewhere between a question and a statement. It was that old Irish trick again. No one commented. What was there to say?
After several tries, Ree struggled out of the backseat. “Thanks for the ride.” She slammed the door of the Nova.
“Get some rest,” Eileen called after her.
Silently, the two nuns watched her walk up the cement path.
“What do you make of it, old dear?” Eileen asked as soon as the apartment door shut. “She seems suddenly unseasonably calm.”
“I don’t know what to think. I’m so tired. I hope Allan Boscacci has the garage door fixed because I don’t think I have the strength to push it.” Carefully, Mary Helen backed out of the alley. “One thing I do know: I am going to take some of your advice.”
“And what advice is that?” Eileen looked pleased.
“The part about getting some rest.” Mary Helen smiled over at her friend. “After we get some soup, Eileen, let’s take a nap.”
“Just like a couple of old lassies?” Eileen asked in mock horror.
“Don’t be silly! It has absolutely nothing to do with getting old. Anyone-why, even Sister Anne-would be done in by our hectic morning.”
Kate Murphy was clearing her desk when her phone rang.
“Just our luck,” Dennis Gallagher grumbled, watching her remove an earring. “Bad enough we got the duty on Saturday, but quitting time and we get a damn call.”
“You guys about ready to close it up?” Kate was surprised to hear Ron Honore’s voice on the other end of the line. Somehow, she would have expected him to be home showering for a heavy date.
She nodded at Gallagher, who was giving her a who-the-hell-is-it? look. “Honore,” she mouthed to her partner, who was shifting impatiently.
“We were just about ready to,” she said into the phone.
“How about you two meeting me in, say, half an hour at Fahey’s? Bring Jack too. I can use all the advice I can get”
Kate hesitated, wondering if either Gallagher or Jack, who had been home cleaning the house all day, had any plans.
“Just for half an hour or so,” Honore added.
His voice was so serious Kate began to worry. “Is there something wrong, Ron?”
“Wrong? Not unless you consider meeting Famine, Pestilence, Destruction, and Death something wrong.”
“Pardon me?”
“The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse.”
Kate was impressed. She would have thought Honore’s Four Horsemen would have been Stuhldreher, Miller, Crowley, and Layden from Notre Dame.
“Or should I say, horsewomen?” Honore continued. “Your two nun pals and two more of their cronies were in today.”
So that was it. Kate laughed.
“It isn’t funny.” Ron sounded offended.
She couldn’t resist. “Gee, Ron, I don’t know.” She paused, baiting him. “It is Saturday night. That’s a big night on the town. In fact, I’m surprised a bachelor of your reputation isn’t home sprucing up for the evening.”
“I promise it won’t take long,” he said, paying no attention to her jibe. “And, I’m buying.”
Kate waited, listening to the phone line click in the silence.
“You did get me into this, you know.”
A touch of the old Honore she knew and loved. She cleared her throat, letting him dangle.
“Oh, please, Kate. Give me a break.”
“Okay, for a few minutes.” Kate wondered for a moment if any sound could be as sweet as the sound of the cocky Inspector Honore begging.
Luckily, Gallagher found a parking space on Taraval Street where the Parkside branch of the library meets McCopp Park, about a block up from Fahey’s Saloon. Hands in pockets, he started down toward 24th Avenue. The wind whipping up Taraval pulled at his coat, flung his tie over his shoulder, and pushed his pants legs against his shins.
Shivering, Kate, trying to use her partner’s bulk as a windshield, followed half behind him to the corner. Together the pair dashed across the intersection.
“God Almighty, I’ll need two straight shots,” Gallagher panted, “just to get my blood unfrozen.” He held the half door of Fahey’s open. “After you.”
Inside, the long, narrow bar was warm and cozy. The jukebox near the entrance played softly. On the back wall over the electric scoreboard, a wooden sign announced FAHEY’S SALOON, WHERE THE ELITE MEET!
Kate blinked, letting her eyes adjust to the darkness.
“Well, if it isn’t a couple more of San Francisco’s finest!” Kate heard the voice of Snooky, the bartender, before she saw him.
“And look who it is too.” Snooky put down the glass he was wiping and looked at her over his horn-rimmed glasses. “Although I should have guessed when your better half came in.”
Jack waved from a round table in the back. Honore and he were already there, sitting under the leaping sailfish. mounted on the wall.
“Long time no see.” Snooky came around the end of the bar and gave Kate a hug. “Marriage seems to be agreeing with you,” he said, inspecting her at arm’s distance. “You look great!”
Several customers on the bar stools turned to double-check Snooky’s opinion.
Kate blushed. “It’s good to see you too,” she said, and it was. Snooky was like part of the family. His brother was with the sheriff’s department and he had an uncle and a cousin or two who were cops.
The tavern was as warm and friendly as Snooky. It was one of those old-fashioned neighborhood bars, the kind San Francisco once had lots of, where people, cops included, could go just to sit, visit, and unwind. As a matter of fact, on any given night, but especially when the 49ers were playing, Fahey’s was probably the best-protected tavern in the Parkside District.
“What’s your pleasure tonight?” Snooky asked. “It’s on the house.”
“Not tonight. Honore’s paying tonight.” Kate winked at the astonished Snooky. “I’ll take a rain check on your offer,” she said.
“What the hell is this all about?” Gallagher asked Honore as soon as they sat down in the wooden captain’s chairs. “Last night I complained that we didn’t get fish on Friday anymore, so tonight Mrs. G. is poaching salmon for my dinner. My mouth’s been watering for it all day. It better be important.”
Honore gave a self-conscious little shrug and asked what they were drinking. Raising his arm, he called their order, three beers and one straight shot, over to Snooky.
Kate noticed the seams of his coat sleeve pull. Honore had put on a little weight since she’d last seen him.
“Given up smoking.” He took off his jacket and hung it over the back of his chair. “Now everything I own is strangling me.”
Snooky put the drinks on the table. “And that ain’t all. Don Ron here is the only guy I know who drinks beer and chews gum at the same time.”
Gallagher looked at his watch. Honore got the hint.
“I appreciate you guys coming over.” He studied the ring his beer glass had made on the tabletop.
Being beholden was not going to be easy for Honore, Kate figured. She was tempted to let him squirm, but her curiosity was getting the better of her.
“You said the nuns came by today? What happened?”
“That was my first mistake,” he said. “I should never have told you to have them come by at all. I should have sent them right to the local station where they belonged.” Honore wagged his head solemnly. “Actually Northern Station was closed today. I was just there for a few hours catching up on some paperwork. God, there’s a lot of paperwork in Missing Persons!”
“What happened?” Kate insisted.
“Nothing really happened while they were there,” he said. “Nothing I could put my finger on. A lady friend of theirs is a hostess in a restaurant. Nobody’s heard from her for a few days. All in all, it was a pretty routine report. One where I’d put out the usual feelers. You know, question people who saw her last, et cetera. Actually, my common sense tells me there’s nothing to get excited about. No signs of foul play. The woman probably went away for a couple of days, forgot to tell people or maybe didn’t tell them on purpose. Who knows?” Honore shrugged.
“But they were so damn convincing. Especially that older nun, that Sister Mary Helen. I began to doubt my own horse sense.”
“That one’ll get you every time!” Gallagher mumbled. “And watch out for the sidekick too. Looks innocent as the day is long. But those two gals could sell you your own shoes and make you glad you bought them.”
Honore stuck another piece of gum into the wad in his mouth. “The daughter-and if she isn’t a lulu!-was with them this time. She brought this gold medal in, see. Dangled it in front of me. Then she claims the missing woman wouldn’t go anywhere without it That’s how they all figured out something bad had happened to her. Now that is crazy, I told myself. I’m a policeman, and yet I can get out of my car and forget to take my keys.”
Kate stared. Honore must have been affected. He was even suggesting he could have a weakness.
“Not often.” He recovered quickly. “But it has happened. Now, that was around noon. The whole thing is a routine matter. Ordinarily, I’d get to it on Monday morning in a routine way.”
“I hear a but coming.” Jack took the last swallow of his beer. Honore held up his hand for a second round.
“But the damn thing’s been on my mind ever since they first came in. Like I say, I figured the lady just wanted to get away for a couple of days and they were overreacting. It happens more than you think in my department It’s not like she was senile or anything and wandered away. And it is a free country, you know.”
He looked from officer to officer, waiting for someone to disagree. When no one did, he went on. “So, like I say, I played it down. But the more I think about it the more something just isn’t setting right. Nothing I can put my finger on. Just a funny feeling in my gut. Makes me wonder if something really did happen to her.”
“Whoa!” Gallagher pushed his shot glass to the middle of the table, ready for Snooky to set down the second. “No you don’t fella! I’ve had my bellyful of those two nuns.”
“That’s why I wanted to talk to you guys. I know you’ve had dealings with them. And I don’t know why it is…” Honore’s broad finger traced the water ring on the table. Kate sensed he was working up courage.
The man shrugged, a silly smile on his ebony face. “But nuns have always spooked me.”
Kate couldn’t believe it. The arrogant, smooth-talking Honore had a chink in his armor! Even the glimpse of something vulnerable squirming inside made him instantly a little easier to tolerate. “Why?” she asked. “Aren’t you a Catholic?”
“Yeah, I’m a Catholic, all right. Every Creole from New Orleans is Catholic. At least, I was baptized one. But they spooked me even as a kid. Something about the long habits, only their faces and hands showing… In New Orleans we had the ones with the white wings on their heads. Coming down the street, the wings flapping like doves… I thought it was the goddamn Holy Ghost coming toward me. Scared the hell out of me.”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Ron, you’re a grown man! And these Sisters don’t wear habits.” Kate rubbed it in.
“But they still have those eyes. Like they can look right through you and see if you go to church on Sunday. And the damn thing’s been bothering me all day.”
“Going to church on Sunday?” Kate couldn’t help herself.
“You know damn well what I mean. Do you think they really have an inside track on stuff?”
“Hey, Denny”-Jack slapped Gallagher on the back-“you give him the word. You’re our resident expert on nuns.”
Gallagher threw back the rest of his shot, wiped his mouth with the palm of his hand, and banged the glass on the table. “Not me, fella. As far as I’m concerned, you’re on your own. Yes, sir. They’re all yours. I wouldn’t touch them again with a ten-foot pole.
“As far as I can see, the whole thing’s going to pot. It’s beyond me why the Pope can’t keep nuns in the convent where they belong.” He stood and hitched up his pants. If you ask me, the whole goddamn Church has gone amuck. Nuns without habits, priests talking English at Mass, altars turned any which way, Sunday Mass on Saturday!
“But you know the worst of it?” Gallagher paused to stick the stub of his cigar into the corner of his mouth. “The worst thing of all was giving up fish on Friday. God, how I loved poached salmon!”