Murder of a Sweet Old Lady (32 page)

They made their way down the main aisle past rows of plain wooden pews. To the right of the altar were the confessionals. About the size of coat closets, the two outer chambers shared their inner walls with the center booth where the priest sat waiting to hear from his parishioners. There were lights above the doors on the left and right to indicate whether they were occupied. The bulbs were operated by a person’s weight upon the kneelers inside. Both lights were off.

Mona sat on the pew nearest the confessional and shoved Skye toward the coffinlike structure. “I’ll be right here, so don’t try anything. Remember, I can hear what you say in there.”

Which was true. The confessionals were far from soundproof, and often those waiting could hear what the penitents in front of them had to confess.

As Skye walked toward the door she put her hand in her pocket and found the pen she had hidden there.

Skye entered slowly, searching for something on which to write. Spotting a discarded Sunday bulletin wedged in the corner, she grabbed it as she knelt on the platform facing the sliding mesh window.

As soon as the screen opened, Skye started the ritual prayer. “Bless me Father for I have sinned.” As she spoke, she scribbled furiously.

Sliding the note and the pen to the priest, she held her breath.
Will he believe me? Is there any way he can help me?

The priest gasped and Skye shut her eyes, afraid her aunt would hear. She was relieved when he began his expected response. The slip of paper came back as she recited her sins.

She squinted to read in the dim light. The note said, “Can you crawl through the window? There’s a door leading to the rectory’s basement over here.”

The priest was removing the screen as he gave Skye her penance. She stood on the wooden kneeler, putting her head and shoulders through the opening. He took hold of her around the waist and yanked. At first it didn’t seem as if her hips were going to fit. His prayers took on a note of desperation as he pulled. With a tearing sound, she finally popped through the tight space.

They both froze, waiting to see if Mona had heard the material rip or noticed that the light above the door was now out. When there was no reaction from her, the priest opened a square of wood from the back wall near the floor and nudged Skye down the steps. He then began his prayer of absolution as he joined her on the stairs and replaced the panel. Just before the partition slid into place Skye heard the first gunshot.

 

Father Burns and Skye locked the secret passage behind them and pushed an old dresser in front of the panel. As they struggled with the heavy piece of furniture they heard more gunshots coming from the church. Skye prayed no one would walk in on Mona’s rampage.

“What now?” the priest asked.

Skye noted his heightened color and rapid breathing. “You stay here, and I’ll go upstairs and phone the police.”

He nodded and sank down into an old chair. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t get through the passage.”

“Good.” Skye was halfway up the stairs when the door from the rectory burst open. She yelped and turned to run.

“What are you two doing down here?” the parish housekeeper asked.

Father Burns moved forward and put an arm around Skye. “Skye’s aunt is trying to kill her.”

“Lord have mercy!” The older woman clutched her chest.

“Stay here with Father. I’ll call the police,” Skye ordered.

After telephoning Wally, Skye started to check the doors. None were locked. She had just reached the vestibule when the front door burst open.

Mona stood with her gun pointed at Skye. “Did you really think you could get away from me?”

“It’s too late. I’ve called the police. There’s nothing left to cover up. Everyone knows.” Skye tried to back away.

“Then I have nothing to lose.” Mona took aim.

At that moment they heard the first siren.

“Please, Aunt Mona, put the gun down. Don’t make the police shoot you,” Skye begged.

A look of loathing crossed Mona’s features. “This is all your fault and you have to pay.” Without warning, she squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened. Mona squeezed again and again. She was out of bullets. They could hear doors opening and shoe leather slapping the pavement. The police had arrived.

Mona tried to grab Skye, but without a gun she was no match for her niece. Skye stepped into her aunt’s grasp, turned sharply, and easily broke Mona’s grip. Once again Skye’s training in takedowns for uncontrollable kids came in handy.

Enraged, Mona threw the gun at Skye, rushed past and out the kitchen door. Skye hesitated for a moment before running after her. She reached the door just in time to see Mona fling herself into the Buick and squeal out of the parking lot.

A few seconds later Chief Boyd and Officer Quirk ran in. Skye hastily told them what had happened, and Wally sent Quirk in pursuit of Mona. He also radioed for help from the county sheriff, and ordered in all off-duty officers.

May and Charlie arrived at the rectory soon afterward, having heard the dispatches on their police radio scanners.

They were all in the priest’s office and everyone was talking. Finally Wally shouted, “Okay, the first person who speaks without being spoken to leaves the room. You shouldn’t all be here anyway, but it would take more officers than I have available to make you leave. So sit down and shut up!”

Skye was seated on the sofa between May and Charlie. Father Burns was at his desk. His housekeeper stood behind him as if on guard.

Wally paced between the two groups. Finally he turned to Skye. “Tell me what happened after your aunt showed up at your house.”

After Skye ran through the events up to the time she arrived at the church, Wally addressed the priest. “Why did you believe Skye so readily? Your fast thinking probably saved both your lives. When we checked, Mona had emptied six bullets into the confessionals.”

Father Burns looked down at the rosary in his hands. “I can’t tell you a lot. I’m bound by the seal of the confessional, but let’s just say I knew Skye was telling the truth.”

Wally narrowed his eyes. “In other words, Mona confessed to you?”

“I really can’t say one way or another. Why does it matter?” Father Burns sat motionlessly.

“Then let’s move on to the convenient passage between the church and rectory. How long has that been there?” Wally leaned his hands on the desk’s edge.

“It’s been there as long as the church has been. We were a stop on the Underground Railroad.”

“Why didn’t I know that?” Wally asked.

“Because we keep it quiet. We don’t want to take away from the purpose of the church. We even considered filling in the tunnel the last time we remodeled, but decided at the last minute to keep it open.”

“Thank God.” Skye sighed.

 

As a result of Officer Quirk’s pursuit, Mona skidded off the road and wrapped the Buick around a tree on Scumble River Road heading toward Kankakee. The old car didn’t have air bags and Mona wasn’t wearing her seat belt. She was dead before they reached the hospital.

The family grieved, but among themselves they agreed that it was probably for the best. They would try to remember Mona as she was, before trying to keep her secret had become a burden she could no longer shoulder.

A few days after her aunt’s death, Skye received a phone call from someone saying he was Miss Prynn’s great-nephew and he had a file that his aunt had asked him to hold for safekeeping. Skye’s name and number were on a slip of paper inside the folder, and he wanted to know if she still wanted it.

She said no.

Epilogue

It was the second Saturday in September, and school had been back in session for a couple of weeks. As promised, Simon had not called. It had been a sad summer. Skye sat at the counter peeling apples and watching May make applesauce. “Mom, we’ve never really talked about what happened with Aunt Mona. Would you rather I had left things alone?”

May didn’t answer for a while. She finally turned from the stove. “I still miss Mona. She wasn’t always like that. She was so smart. We thought for sure she would go to college and have a career.”

“Do you know why she didn’t?”

“Neal started to court her during her senior year in high school. He was a couple years older and already a successful farmer.” May stirred silently for a few seconds. “I think maybe Dad pressured Mona into marrying Neal. I know he always said he wasn’t paying for any of us girls to go to college.”

“I had no idea. My image of Mona is so different from that.” Skye closed her eyes. “I don’t remember ever seeing her without her guard up.”

“Mona used to be such fun. She loved shopping with me for your baby clothes. She loved taking care of you and dressing you up.”

“I don’t recall her spending any time with me.”

“She stopped when she found out she couldn’t have children. After that she changed. Appearances and possessions became everything to her. Everyone had to envy her or she wasn’t happy.” May wiped away a tear. “And Neal didn’t like her to spend much time with her family.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t think we were good enough.”

Skye and May worked in silence for a while. Finally Skye said, “You didn’t answer my question. Would you rather I’d left things alone?”

May stopped stirring. “No, I guess some things just can’t be swept under the rug. That’s what happened with Mona, really. Dad wanted to keep everything hidden.”

“Secrets will destroy any family.” Skye concentrated on peeling an apple without breaking the spiral of skin.

“I suppose so.” May added sugar to the sliced apples in the pan. “That’s why Minnie and I decided to confront Dante.”

Skye was halfway through without breaking off the skin. “So you weren’t surprised to learn that Uncle Dante and the lawyer were skimming off some of Grandma’s money?”

“Not really. I think we all knew he was up to something. He spent so much more money than the rest of us. Even Mom knew. But it was always on farm equipment he used for the estate, so we could tell ourselves it wasn’t really stealing. Another family secret no one wanted to face.” May sprinkled cinnamon into the mixture.

“Hugo’s been very quiet lately about the advantages of selling Grandma’s land to a developer,” Skye said.

“Your dad and Emmett had a talk with him and that Castleview guy. I think that settled Hugo’s hash. They made both of them see we would never sell the land for a housing development.” May turned the burner down to let the applesauce simmer.

“Look, I got one off without breaking it.” Skye held up the ribbon of bright red skin.

“Good, now drop it on the counter and it will form the initial of the man you’re going to marry.” May leaned over to get a better view.

Skye let the peel slide between her fingers. “I can’t tell what letter it looks like.”

May stepped closer. “It’s an R, of course, for Reid.” Even though May knew that Skye and Simon had broken up last June, May never gave up on a prospective son-in-law.

Skye tilted her head and looked at the red skin. She could see how her mom thought it looked like an R, but to her it kind of looked like a B for Boyd or maybe even a K. Didn’t that new English teacher’s name start with a K?

Following is a preview of the next
Scumble River mystery
Murder of a Sleeping Beauty
coming from Signet in 2002.

 

 

From Bad to Hearse

 

 

 

As a school psychologist, Skye Denison had dealt with many recalcitrant teens, but Justin Boward would be the death of her yet. He refused to talk. She was beginning to think his entire vocabulary consisted of
yes
,
no
, and the occasional grunt. Although she knew that adolescents were the same as cats—neither reacted when you spoke to them—his lack of response to her attempts to draw him out was starting to make her feel like a failure. A feeling she was way too familiar with already.

Two years ago Skye had been forced to crawl back to Scumble River, Illinois, after finding herself fired, jilted, and broke. It had been hard enough to return to the rural Midwestern town she had escaped as a teenager, but the citizens’ long memories had made it even worse. Hardly a week went by without someone reminding Skye of what she had said twelve years ago in her valedictorian speech. Back then, the moment the words had left her mouth, she’d regretted saying that Scumble River was full of small-minded people with even smaller intellects. She had regretted it even more since she’d moved back home.

She sneaked a peek at her watch as she pushed a stray chestnut curl under her headband. It was twenty-five minutes before the Scumble River High School dismissal bell would ring. Once again, she attempted to make eye contact with the teen seated kitty-corner from her at the small trapezoidal table. He ducked his head and studied his chewed fingernails. Justin had not spoken three words to her in their fifteen minutes together. Skye searched her mind for some pithy comment.

Before she could think of what to say, a girl she vaguely recognized flung the door open and stumbled inside. The girl bent over, trying to catch her breath, and spoke between gasps. “Sleeping Beauty is dead.”

“What?” Was this teen speak for:
Run, the cops are here
? Was she supposed to answer:
The gray wolf howls at midnight
? Skye’s emerald-green eyes raked the adolescent, who was standing just past the office threshold, still-hunched over, hands on her knees. She was dressed in low-riding, wide-legged denims and a hooded belly top. Her bleached two-tone hair fell to the middle of her back, and her navel was pierced.

Skye quickly examined her mental file and decided that the girl probably hung with either the Rebels or the Skanks. Of Scumble River High’s five or six cliques, these were the two roughest. The Cheerleaders, the Jocks, and the Nerds had much more teacher-pleasing behavior. What was this girl up to?