The Missing Madonna (10 page)

Finn turned, nodded his head toward them, but said nothing. His eyes were red-rimmed and blinked nervously as he looked from woman to woman. Probably his bistro hadn’t closed until two
A.M
.

Caroline in a wide-brimmed black straw skimmer began to remove her gloves, one long finger at a time. If Mary Helen hadn’t known better, she would have picked Caroline out as the chief mourner.

“Why don’t we put your things in the bedroom?” Lucy offered, leading the way.

Mary Helen was laying her coat across the end of Erma’s bed when she noticed a black looseleaf binder propped against the leg of the nightstand. Before she even thought about it, she stooped over and picked it up.

“That’s our journal,” Lucy said “I guess she left without that too.”

Mary Helen must have looked puzzled.

“You remember, Sister. Erma and I started taking that intensive journal-writing workshop at the college. Well, that’s the binder they gave us. She must write in it just before she goes to sleep, like I do.” Lucy tried to smile, but her chin quivered. “It has all kinds of colored dividers with tabs to record our different experiences.”

“And all those experiences are intensely personal,” Eileen said, narrowing her eyes at Mary Helen, who immediately put the journal back where she found it.

“I was only going to look at the tabs,” she whispered, following Eileen back into the living room.

“Here comes another one,” Finn, trying to be helpful, announced from his place at the window.

“It must be Noelle. Good! As soon as Erma’s daughter arrives we can get started.” Caroline checked her wrist-watch. “You did tell her ten-thirty, didn’t you?”

Lucy nodded just as Noelle, in a whirl of blue, arrived at the top step. “Sorry I’m late,” she said. “Shall we begin by going over the facts we already know?”

She motioned them to sit down. Without a word, everyone, even Finn, followed her into the small dining area and sat down at the table. Noelle, their undisputed leader, took her place at the head.

“Erma’s daughter isn’t here, I see,” Noelle began. “Maybe that’s just as well. We can talk more freely among ourselves.” She glanced over at Finn. “Thank you, Mr. Finn, for letting us into the apartment this
morning. I know it must have been an inconvenience. Please feel free to go about your busy routine. We’ll make sure to return the key when we’re done.”

Finn fidgeted uncomfortably but didn’t move. It was obvious that he had something to say but wasn’t too sure how to say it. “Look, ladies . . .” he began finally, his jaw, Mary Helen thought, set a little like that of a not-too-friendly bulldog. “Erma’s my friend. Besides that, she works for me and this here is my apartment house. I want to be in on whatever happens.”

Short, sweet, and very much to the point. Mary Helen watched the look of surprise freeze on Noelle’s face.

“I see,” their leader responded crisply. “I suppose that’s reasonable.” Her bright blue eyes jumped from woman to woman, waiting for a comment.

“It would seem to me—” Eileen cleared her throat Mary Helen had seen her friend look calmer addressing a crowd of five hundred—“that under the circumstances, Mr. Finn might be a great help.”

One look at the man’s beaming face and no one had the heart to ask, What circumstances?

“Very well.” Noelle’s voice brought down the imaginary gavel, and Finn became one of the group.

Mary Helen smiled over at the man. Poor fellow had no idea what he was getting into. She wondered for a moment how he would fit in.

“How shall we proceed?” Noelle was all business.

“This may seem a bit superficial,” Eileen said. Mary Helen knew that would never stop her. “But before she gets here, I’d like to know Erma’s daughter’s real name. It can’t be Ree, surely.”

The group looked toward Lucy. After all, it was Lucy who knew Erma best and Lucy who had called her “Ree.”

Surprisingly, it was Finn who spoke up. “It’s Marie. Everyone calls her Ree for short And the brothers are Junior and Buddy. Thomas and Richard, actually.”

Noelle looked a little annoyed. Being part of the group is one thing, her expression said, but taking over, Mr. Finn, is something else again!

Finn must have caught the look. He began to blink nervously, then studied the scuffed toes of his shoes.

Funny fellow, Mary Helen thought, trying not to stare at the man. On the one hand, he was nervous and seemingly shy; on the other, he was tough enough to get his own way. And, although his overall appearance was a bit seedy, he did own a building and operate a successful-looking restaurant. Yes, indeed, he was a hard one to peg! The only thing she felt certain of was that he did care for Erma Duran.

Before she could give the man any more thought, a bang of the front door and a stumbling sound from the bottom of the stairs announced the arrival of Erma’s daughter, Ree.

“I’m sorry I’m late. I wasn’t feeling too well this morning.”

The high, breathless voice floating up the staircase set Mary Helen’s nerves on edge. God help us, she thought A whiner!

“If it isn’t her ass, it’s her elbow,” Mary Helen was almost sure she heard Caroline whisper to Lucy. The astonished look on Finn’s face convinced her she had heard correctly.

Lucy rose and went to the banister. The rest of the group turned to watch.

“Come on up, Ree, honey. We just got here.” Holding out her short arms, Lucy waited for the young woman to come to the top of the stairs. As soon as she did, she reached up to hug her and kiss both of Ree’s dimpled cheeks.

“Aren’t you feeling well, honey?” Lucy asked.

Ree shook her head and pulled her full mouth into a pout “I’m so worried about Mommy.”

“Don’t worry, honey.” Lucy soothed her almost as if she were a small child. “We’re all here to help.”

Even though Ree wore no makeup and, girllike, had pulled her blond-streaked hair into a ponytail, Mary Helen judged her to be at least thirty-five.

Lucy looked confidently around at the assembled group. “We’ll find your mother and bring her home where she belongs.”

Mary Helen wished she felt as confident as Lucy sounded. They hadn’t even considered the possibility that Erma might not want to be found.

For a moment, Ree, her chubby face still flushed, stood at the edge of the room. She tugged self-consciously at the back of the flowered blouse that hung well over her snug navy pants. The more she tugged, the more the buttonholes down its front pulled away from the tiny buttons.

“Come over, dear. Sit down.” Lucy patted the chair next to her. “You’ve met everyone here, I’m sure, except the nuns.”

The look on Noelle’s face said, Make the introductions brief. And Lucy did.

“Now, then,” Noelle began. “Our job is to locate Erma.”

Ree wrinkled her short nose and sniffled. Good night, nurse! Mary Helen squirmed, exasperated. Not only does the woman whine, she sniffles.

“Ree”—Noelle directed her gaze toward Erma’s daughter—“Mr. Finn tells us that your mother mentioned going to St. Louis.”

“She never said that to me.” Ree tugged again at her blouse and focused her large eyes accusingly at Finn. “Why would she tell him if she didn’t tell me?”

Finn leaned forward in his chair. For a moment he looked as if he might tell her why.

“That’s beside the point,” Mary Helen interjected, remembering only too well Finn’s opinion of Erma’s
children. She didn’t want to appear rude, but this meeting was too important to let personal animosities disrupt it.

“What we want to know is, have you any idea whom we can phone to get in touch with your mother?”

“I can’t imagine who she’d go to see in St. Louis.” Ree sniffled again.

“Are there no relatives there, dear?” Caroline’s straw skimmer bobbed impatiently.

Her dark eyes filling, Ree shook her head.

“Friends, perhaps?” Caroline probed.

“Poor Mommy. You know her social-security check still hasn’t come.” Ree, ignoring the question, stared at Finn.

“Friends?” Caroline insisted, despite the growing feeling of tension in the room.

“Only Auntie Barbara.”

“Auntie Barbara?” the group repeated in unison.

“Not our real aunt. Just a friend of Mommy’s from college way back. But I’m not really sure exactly where in St. Louis she lives.”

“Now we’re beginning to get someplace.” Beside her, Eileen beamed. Mary Helen did not feel quite so optimistic. Something was bothering her. She must have been frowning because Noelle nodded her blue-rinsed head toward the old nun. “What’s wrong, Sister?”

“Well . . . I was just wondering about the money. Erma’s social-security check hadn’t come, and Lucy mentioned to Caroline and me that Erma was worried about money while we were in New York. How could she afford the fare to St. Louis?”

She was just about ready to answer her own question—Visa or MasterCard, of course—when Finn spoke up.

“I lent it to her.” He shrugged.

Ree glared at the little man. “You lent it to Mommy? You? Why, you can hardly pay her salary on time.”

“I got lucky.”

“At the track, I suppose.” This time Ree sniffed rather than sniffled. “Just like my father. He—”

All eyes shifted to Finn. Face flushed, he raised his broad hand, as if to stop stones instead of words. “Whoa!” he shouted. “Your father was a good man and a good friend of mine.”

The words echoed in the small dining room. Mary Helen could hear the others twisting uncomfortably in their chairs, the way people do who have inadvertently stumbled into a family fight. Several cleared their throats. Eileen, she noticed, was studying a cobweb on the chandelier.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Noelle interrupted quickly.

Mary Helen could sense the relief.

“We are straying from the point. How are we going to proceed with finding our friend Erma?”

Caroline, eager to help her neutralize the situation, raised her index finger. “Let’s divide the duties,” she suggested, with a nod toward Noelle, “then schedule another meeting.”

“Fine.” Noelle took a pocket calendar from her navy-blue leather handbag. “We had better not wait too long.” She paused briefly, waiting for comments. When there were none, she continued. “Shall we say tomorrow, same time, same place?”

That settled, Caroline went back to dividing. “When we are through here, Lucy, you and I can go back to the college and search through the alumnae records.” She tipped her skimmer toward the Sisters for tacit permission. “I’m sure we will be able to unearth a Barbara in Erma’s class, or in one close to it, who lives in the vicinity of St. Louis,” she said when the Sisters had nodded back. “Between us, we can make the calls.

“Marie, you, of course, should contact your brothers. See if they perhaps know where your mother has gone. Possibly she confided in one of the boys.

“Noelle, you’re good with government-type things.
Perhaps you could place calls to the St. Louis Police Department and to hospitals, just in case—and I hate to even mention it—something may have happened to Erma.

“Mr. Finn”—Caroline had clearly thought out her plan—“there must be an organization of restaurant owners or something of that nature in that area . . .”

The man squinted at her as if she had just dropped in from another planet. “You talking about the waitresses’ union?”

“I suppose I am.” Caroline cleared her throat. “And you, Sisters”—Mary Helen tried not to appear too eager—“you two can do what you do best: pray.”

*  *  *

“Pray, indeed!” Mary Helen muttered, fumbling in her pocketbook for the car keys. On the curb behind her, she could hear Eileen chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” she asked without turning around.

“If you could have seen your face, old dear, when Caroline said, ‘Pray.’ You got so red, I was afraid you might burst.”

“I did no such thing.” Mary Helen finally unlocked the car door. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Oh, and what, may I ask, surprised you?”

“That the poor woman does not know that prayer without good works is dead.”

“Isn’t that faith without good works, old dear?”

“Same difference.” Mary Helen adjusted her bifocals, then fastened her seat belt.

She turned the key in the ignition. “And if she thinks for one moment that I’m going to let my prayers die, she has another think coming.”

“I could well have predicted that,” Eileen muttered, her brogue thickening.

“By the way,” Mary Helen asked, eager to change the
subject, “what did you make of that little scene between Ree and Mr. Finn just now?”

“I was about to ask you the same question,” Eileen said. “But since you asked me first, I would say that, deep down, those two have a couple of ill-stirred pots about to come to a full boil.”

Mary Helen had never heard her say that before. “Is that another of your old sayings from home?”

“No, I just made it up,” Eileen said with a complacent smile. “And what do you make of it?”

“Just about the same as you do.” Mary Helen checked her wristwatch. “We’re in luck,” she said. “It’s only eleven-thirty. We can surely make it to the Hall of Justice before Kate Murphy goes to lunch.”

*  *  *

Sister Mary Helen was surprised when she and Eileen walked into the Hall of Justice. The police department had erected a plywood barricade across the entire foyer. Well, what can you expect? she asked herself. After all, you haven’t been in the building for nearly two years. Things do change.

A security checkpoint, much like that in an airport, had been built at one end. It instructed them
ENTER HERE
.

“Where are you going, ladies?” the uniformed officer asked, returning their pocketbooks.

“To the Homicide Detail,” Mary Helen answered. The policeman looked a little surprised, she thought, but not nearly as surprised as Kate Murphy did when she saw the two of them in the doorway of Room 450. And poor Inspector Gallagher!
Flabbergasted
was the only word that would adequately describe his reaction.

“Hi, Sisters,” Kate called.

The crowded detail suddenly became still. One by one the homicide detectives turned their heads toward the doorway. Some smiled, some half rose. O’Connor,
whom she remembered from the last time she was here, offered a weak, “Hi, ’Sters!”