“Red sky at morning-sailors take warning.” Shivering, Eileen walked down Parker Street toward the Carmelite monastery for the six-thirty Mass.
“I don’t care what you say”-Mary Helen could see her own breath-“the moment I read the announcement last night, I knew today was going to be a good day. It was like an omen.”
She studied the sky. In fact, red or not, this morning’s dawn reminded her of an old-fashioned holy card, the kind you received at Easter, with fluffy white clouds all streaked with gold and rose behind the floating figure of the risen Lord.
“Yes, a very good omen,” she declared.
“And s-since when have you b-begun to b-believe in omens?” Eileen was still so cold that Mary Helen could hear her teeth chattering.
“Since I read the announcement about today’s Mass. I knew we couldn’t go at noon. Because of the OWL meeting, we’d just have to go to the Carmelite monastery. It was as if God were sending us a sign.” She smiled at her friend. Sister Eileen had the good grace to simply smile back.
At nine, when the two nuns arrived at Erma’s apartment, Mr. Finn, Lucy, and Caroline were already there.
Caroline, impeccably groomed as usual and obviously impatient, sat twisting her long string of pearls. “I’m glad you’re here.” She narrowed her eyes at Finn, who was staring out the apartment window. “He says he has something to tell us, but he insists on waiting until everyone arrives.”
Apparently deaf to her remark, Finn rocked back and forth on his heels and said nothing.
“Come in, Sisters. Sit down.” Lucy, always the hostess, patted the cushion next to her on the sofa. “How have you bean, lima?” she asked brightly. Stifling a groan, Sister Mary Helen sat down where Lucy had patted.
“Here comes the other one. The one with the blue hair,” Finn announced.
All that’s missing is “Hail to the Chief,” Mary Helen thought, watching Noelle sweep into the room. With her usual air of efficiency, she peered over her half glasses, cleared her throat, and prepared to take over the meeting. “Are we all here?” Her bright blue eyes surveyed them.
“But not all there!” Lucy couldn’t resist.
Ignoring the remark, Noelle lit her cigarette.
Finn spoke up from his post “The daughter’s not here.”
“Oh, she’s not coming.” Lucy scooted forward. “I talked to her this morning just before Caroline picked me up. The poor child is not feeling well.”
“For God’s sake, Lucy, the child, as you call her, is at least thirty-five years old.” Caroline glared. “What is wrong with her now?”
“She has a very bad cold.” Lucy sounded defensive.
“That’s correct. She was quite a bit under the weather when we saw her yesterday.” Sister Eileen jumped in on Lucy’s side.
“As I’ve said a million times, if it isn’t her…” Caroline pointed a finger.
“Girls, girls. That’s neither here nor there.”
The room crackled with tension. Mary Helen was glad Noelle spoke up. The discussion had not yet disintegrated into an argument, but it was well on its way. Caroline frowned as if she had something more to say, but refrained.
Erma’s disappearance is getting to all our nerves, Mary Helen thought. She watched the women, looking for all the world like three ruffled ducks, settle back in their chairs.
Unabashed, Noelle continued to run her meeting. “We are here this morning to report on anything we may have discovered in the last few days about Erma and her whereabouts, not to discuss her family affairs. Who wants to speak first?” She tilted her head.
Caroline spoke up. “Mr. Finn has something to report.” Apparently Ree Duran’s health was no longer on her mind. “He promised to tell us as soon as we all were here.”
Five pairs of eyes eagerly shifted toward the man. Hands buried deep in his pockets, Finn blinked nervously. Mary Helen didn’t blame him. That was quite a battery of eyes for anyone to handle.
He cleared his throat. Mary Helen held her breath. She could feel her stomach begin to flutter with anticipation. Or was it dread?
“Erma called me.” Before he could continue, the room burst into an excited chorus of gasps and questions.
Noelle’s businesslike voice soared above the rest “When? And what exactly did she say?”
“Last night. And she… she said she was okay. Getting settled and not to worry.”
“Did she leave a number where we could reach her?” Lucy moved forward on the sofa. From the smile on her face, Mary Helen knew she was about to go straight to the phone for a nice long talk. Fine! She would be right behind her.
Lucy’s smile faded as Finn shook his head. Rats! Mary Helen thought, deflated. Yet she could have predicted his answer. Even if he did know, she was quite certain he wouldn’t tell.
The room had settled into a puzzled silence. “Erma said she’d call again. Said she didn’t want to talk to anybody till she ‘sorted out some stuff,’ was the way she put it.”
“What stuff?” Lucy’s voice quivered. “Didn’t she say?”
The man shrugged. “Nope. She didn’t say what”
“Then there is nothing more for us to do.” Noelle said finally. Mary Helen wasn’t sure if it was a question or a statement.
Whichever, Noelle threw the strap of her blue leather purse over her shoulder and studied the group over the top of her half glasses. “At least we know she is safe, ladies.” She tried to sound cheerful. “We should be glad for that, anyway.”
“You’re right, Noelle,” Caroline agreed without much enthusiasm. “I suppose tonight we will all get the first real night’s sleep any of us has had since this dreadful thing began.”
Three yesses and an indeed supported her supposition. Finn merely grunted.
“Someone should call and inform the police.” Noelle shot an it’s-all-yours smile at Mary Helen and turned on her blue heel. “And, Caroline, will you give Barbara Quinn a ring? You both should have plenty of time to make your calls and to get over to the OWL meeting.”
One by one, the women rose to go. The jumble of feelings in the room was hard to describe: relief, surely, yet confusion; happiness and delight, certainly, yet real bewilderment and perhaps a touch of hurt.
Watching them, Mary Helen couldn’t help but think of Easter again. This morning’s sky had reminded her of an old holy card portraying Jesus risen. This afternoon Erma’s apartment was more like the empty tomb. What had the gospel said about the women who discovered it? “They hurried away, half overjoyed, half fearful… to carry the good news.” She felt that way herself.
Pushing up from the couch, she knew she should be elated or at least relieved. Oddly, she wasn’t either.
Unanswered questions squirmed and jostled in her mind. If anything, Finn’s revelation had filled her with an inexplicable sense of uneasiness. The whole episode was so out of character for the Erma she knew. Or maybe she hadn’t known the woman half as well as she’d thought.
Above all, she did not want to call Inspector Honore. In fact, she thought she would put it off for a day or two. Who would be the wiser? Besides, now more than ever, it was important that he dig around. He might discover just why Erma Duran had left San Francisco in such a hurry and why she didn’t want to be contacted by her old friends, or even by her family.
Gripping the banister, Sister Mary Helen adjusted her bifocals and started down the narrow staircase. There were so many unanswered questions, so many loose ends. Lucy Lyons was just ahead of her. At least she might have the opportunity to have one of her questions answered.
“What exactly is wrong with Marie Duran?” she asked softly enough, she hoped, not to be overheard.
“I’m not really sure,” Lucy whispered back. “Some serious health problem, I think.”
They were nearing the bottom of the steps. Mary Helen had no time for diplomacy. “Mental?” she asked.
“Erma never said.” Lucy tucked a strand of hair back into the gray braid circling her head. “That is, she was never very specific about Ree’s problem. Or about her other kids’ problems, for that matter. Her home life was very private.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
Again, Lucy shook her head.
“You’ve been her best friend all these years, and you never asked?” Mary Helen was astonished, although she shouldn’t have been. Erma did have-how had Eileen put it?-a touch of lace-curtain Irish.
Seemingly just as astonished, Lucy met her stare. “That’s why we remained best friends all these years, Sister. Nobody, but nobody, with any sense gets between a mother bear and her cubs.”
Impatiently Caroline tooted her car horn. The windshield wipers were moving back and forth. Only then did Mary Helen realize that while they were in the apartment it had started to rain. The soft drizzle wet her face and covered her glasses.
“And we’ve no umbrella.” Eileen fussed in the doorway behind her. “I should have known-with the red sky this morning, and all.”
Mary Helen put out her hand. “It’s like Shakespeare’s ‘gentle rain,’ ” she said. “ ‘It droppeth…’ ” Hoping no one would notice, she switched, midquote, to Matthew, “ ‘On the just and unjust alike.’ ”
“Except the unjust have all the umbrellas,” Lucy quipped, hurrying toward the car. “See you both at the meeting,” she called, waving.
“Do you know what else the old bard said?” Eileen smiled. “ ‘All’s well that ends well.’ Right, old dear?”
“Right” Mary Helen followed her friend to their car parked at the bottom of the Sanchez Street hill. Of course it was right. But if all had ended so well, why did she feel almost as if someone had given her a swift, hard punch in the stomach?