The Missing Madonna (14 page)

“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.