The Missing Madonna (23 page)

Ree blew her nose. “It seemed so real. Mommy said it was just that I was lost and scared. Mr. Finn was the one who found me. Daddy came and he was mad. He brought me and my brothers home.”

“Did you ever talk to your father about what happened?”

Again, tears filled Ree’s doelike eyes. “Right after it happened I tried a couple of times, but Daddy would get real mad. Once when I tried to tell him it was Mr. Finn’s fault, not mine, he grabbed me and started to spank me, but Mommy made him stop. She told him maybe I just had a big imagination or watched too much TV or maybe I’d had a bad dream. When Daddy got mad at her for making up excuses, she hollered back at him and said I was high-strung, just like him.

“Later, when Daddy wasn’t there, she told me that he was mad because Mr. Finn was his good friend and he didn’t like me to say bad things about him. Or about the boys either.”

“You said your brothers were there, in this dream?”

Ree shook her head like an animal trying to rid itself of a buzzing fly. “I think so, but I’m not sure.”

“Did anyone hurt them?”

“I don’t know. Mr. Finn got ahold of Junior, I think. I get all mixed up,” she repeated. “I was just a kid. You know?”

Mary Helen was quiet, waiting.

“Mommy said the best thing to do was to forget about
it, not talk about it.” Ree went on, her little-girl voice returning. “Then it would go away. Daddy wouldn’t get mad at me. Mommy said everything would work out. But it didn’t. I still get scared sometimes and I feel sad. Sometimes Mommy felt scared and sad too. Like just before she went away. I could tell. She told me to look at the picture if anything ever happened to her.”

Eileen came across the room with a plate of steaming eggs, buttered toast, and a mug of tea on a makeshift tray. “Eat up, dear.” She set the tray on Ree’s lap. “You’ll feel much better with something in your stomach.”

Ree ate hungrily, without even looking up. Eileen started to tidy up around the chair, then worked her way over to the kitchen area. At least Eileen’s uneasiness was useful. She cleaned.

Mary Helen just sat there staring into space, not knowing what to make of it all. Had Ree been dreaming or had something actually happened long ago at the racetrack? The track part, at least, could be true. It had the ring of authenticity. Maybe the child had been lost She remembered, right after Erma’s disappearance, Ree’s angry flare-up about her father and Finn’s propensity for the races. On the other hand, all one had to do was talk to Ree for a little while to tell the woman was not completely stable.

Poor Erma. Knowing her, Mary Helen could well imagine how badly she must have wanted everything to work out. How important it must have been to her to keep both her husband and her daughter happy. And how hard she must have tried to do it. Mary Helen fished through her pocketbook, searching for another tissue to hand the sniffling Ree, but the package was empty. Perhaps she had stuck an extra one into the zipped side pocket.

The crumpled pages of Erma’s journal caught in the zipper. Struggling to loosen the zipper, Mary Helen was
annoyed. Drat! Erma was an intelligent woman. What had she been thinking about? Why hadn’t she taken intelligent steps to solve her family’s problems? Why hadn’t Erma used her head?

“The heart runs away with the head.” She remembered that some eighteenth-century Romantic had said that about love. And Erma had loved Tommy Duran. With all his shortcomings, she’d loved him. And her children. Difficult as they appeared to be, she loved them too. She wanted them all to be happy. She wanted everyone to be happy. Erma McSweeney Duran just couldn’t help herself.

*  *  *

That night Kate soaked longer than usual in the bathtub, thinking about, of all things, Ron Honore and the missing OWL. You’d mink I didn’t have enough cases of my own, she fussed, adding still more hot water to the tub.

“Are you ever coming to bed?” Jack called from their bedroom. “It’s dark and lonely in here by myself.”

Kate checked the clock on the old-fashioned vanity table. She couldn’t believe she’d been in the tub for almost thirty minutes. No wonder the water was cold.

Pulling the plug, she stepped out of the old-fashioned tub and began to dry herself with a soft towel. Her body tingled and soon she felt warm and relaxed all over. With a large feathery puff, she put generous pats of Giorgio dusting powder everywhere. The puff left round, soft white patches on her pink skin.

Self-consciously, Kate opened one of the vanity drawers and took out the small bottle of honey-colored liquid Mama Bassetti had given her. St. Gerard oil, her mother-in-law had called it For all Kate knew, it could be olive oil from Lucca, straight off the shelf of Petrini’s Market She’d have to ask Sister Mary Helen about St. Gerard and his miraculous powers.

Feeling a little embarrassed even though she was
alone, Kate rubbed the oil across the middle of her stomach. What she ought to have been doing, she thought, was taking her temperature as the doctor’s brochure suggested.

She studied the friar on the small bottle. His hands were folded and he was looking piously heavenward.
St Gerard, do your stuff
, she prayed, hoping she wasn’t indulging in pure superstition.

“Hurry up, hon.” Jack’s voice startled her. Quickly she shoved the bottle back into the drawer.

The moment she crawled into bed, Jack reached for her. “You smell delicious,” he said, pulling her close. His hands moved smoothly over her thighs, caressing her hips, his touch exciting her.

“Mmm, silky.” His hands glided up, seeking her breasts.

“New bath oil,” Kate mumbled. As he pressed his body close to hers and eagerly found her lips, she knew bath oil was the last thing on his mind.

“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.