by A W Hartoin
“Haven’t got any spackle?”
“Not the kind that covers black eyes from hell,” she said. “You’re going to have to live with it.”
And I was living with it, but I didn’t mind so much. The bruises would go away. Doctor said the nose would be fine, but my arm was back in a cast. When I looked over at Grandad with his back covered in burns from Vietnam or Mom with her stroke issues, I just felt lucky. It could be worse and it was worse for a lot of the other people, including Millicent. She sat next to me, looking pale and weak. She should never have come down to St. Seb in that weather, but she insisted. She wanted to see me. She wanted to hear it from me.
As promised, I didn’t tell her everything, but a reporter managed to get a shot through a window at a table in the police station and got a clean photo of the series of autopsy sketches from Maggie’s file. It was all over the news and Stratton was forced to make a statement. The news had hit The Girls hard and Millicent had cried herself to sleep. She was so weak the next morning I wasn’t sure she could walk, but she surprised me by coming down for the party. She sat next to me and petted Moe, who was curled up on my lap. The pocket dog had some cracked ribs and some stitches, but she’d be fine, especially with the special pâté Aaron had made her.
“Mercy?” Millicent said softly.
I leaned over to hear her better over the toasts to justice and booming laughter. “Are you okay?”
“I am. Myrtle told me this morning that she hired you to…to find out what happened to dear Maggie. She’s very torn up about it. She assumed the man was dead. She didn’t think you would get hurt.”
I took her hand and squeezed. “He is dead. She wasn’t wrong.”
“But it was so much bigger and the church…I never imagined even with the way the bishop behaved after it happened that he…”
“Bishop Fowler was a thief and now the world knows it.”
That was an understatement. Details on Maggie’s murder came out fast, thanks to Gordon and Gansa enjoying their time in the limelight. The church had a new scandal to reckon with and it had gotten so much press attention that Pope Francis had made a statement about it. That appeased the press and it didn’t take long for them to focus on Chief Woody Lucas, his lack of investigation, and why. The alcoholism and loyalty might’ve helped him believe that distraught Father Dominic did it, instead of a college-bound boy of prominent family, but long-term guilt and a little blackmail persuaded him to end his own investigation. The New York Times wasted no time in digging up the history and it was horrid to say the least.
Chief Lucas and the St. Sebastian Sentinel editor, Barney Scheer, were in Joseph Snider’s platoon in the Pacific. Joseph, injured, somehow ended up in a Japanese tunnel where he was captured and I’m told there was cannibalism. I didn’t read the article. I had nightmares enough.
It didn’t get much worse than cannibalism and Davis Snider held his brother’s horrific death over the heads of the police chief and the newspaperman. There was a question as to whether Joseph was abandoned by his platoon to save themselves and that was enough to get Lucas and Scheer to look the other way when Maggie was murdered. Robert Junior’s uncles confirmed his version of events and said they didn’t know Robert had killed Maggie until years later when he confessed to them while drunk. According to them, their parents, Davis and Helen, had a hard time believing Robert did it, even after the confession. They’d only been trying to protect Robert from the taint of being mentioned in relation to a murder at the time and that Chief Lucas and Barney Scheer didn’t want to believe that the clean-cut Robert was a murderer any more than they did.
By the time Kenneth Young was kidnapped, Chief Lucas was dead, but we could safely assume that Barney Scheer told Davis or Robert what his intern was up to. No one else but Desmond Shipley knew. Whether Barney meant for Kenneth to be killed will probably never be known. Former Chief Melanie Gates said she knew nothing about it at the time, but that her father had warned her to never cross the Sniders and she made sure she didn’t. Melanie took a lie detector test about Kenneth Young’s murder and passed with flying colors.
Every news outlet in the country and a good number abroad were leading with how a serial killer could’ve been stopped if the horrors of WWII hadn’t interfered. They weren’t wrong, but a lot of people could’ve stopped Bertram Stott. If someone had stepped up, the network of killers he founded would never have happened. One murder became dozens, maybe hundreds. A small time crime Chief Lucas called it. Maybe one murder did seem small to a man who lived through Iwo Jima and Sugar Loaf Hill. But that one crime became big and it didn’t have to be that way.
“I hope you’ll be okay, dear,” said Millicent. “You shouldn’t have been asked to look into it.”
“I hope you’ll be okay,” I said.
“It will get better now that we know the truth.”
Will it?
The door opened and Clarence walked in. She wasn’t alone.
“Or it could get worse,” I said.
Millicent kissed my cheek so lightly it was like a butterfly kiss. “It can’t get worse. I refuse to let it.”
“Aunt Miriam’s here.”
It might’ve been my imagination, but Millicent seemed to go a shade paler. “She does love you.”
“Are you sure about that?” I asked.
Aunt Miriam shot me the stink eye and Millicent hesitated. “I’m sure.”
“She asked me to leave it alone and I didn’t.”
“You did the right thing. Don’t let anyone tell you different. Look at how proud Tommy is.”
“He’s talking about himself, Millicent.”
She smiled. “And you. You’re in there.”
“You are the nicest person I know.”
“I doubt that, but I’m going to go say hello to Miriam.” Millicent tried to stand, but Tiny and Fats had to rush over to help her up and take her to Aunt Miriam.
Myrtle and I exchanged a glance across the room past the cheerful firefighters, cops, neighbors, and FBI agents. No one else felt the way we felt. She asked me and I did what was asked. The two of us did that together and now Millicent looked like the pain of it would pull her under.
Millicent spoke to Aunt Miriam briefly before Fats picked her up and carried her from the room. She needed to go back to bed. I wasn’t entirely sure she didn’t need to go to the hospital, but she’d already rejected the idea.
Aunt Miriam stood next to the door with her purse that no doubt had a brick in it and her cane. Clarence tried to soothe her, but she kept giving me the hairy eyeball until I hoisted myself to my feet and came through the crowd to take my medicine.
“Alright. Go ahead,” I said.
“Mercy,” said Clarence, nervously. “Guess what I just found out.”
With effort, I refocused. “What’s that?”
“The St. Sebastian Catholic High School is going to be renamed the Sister Margaret Mullanphy Catholic High School and they’re going to build a memorial garden for her. Isn’t that wonderful?”
“It really is,” I said. “I think she’ll like that.”
“Do you think the toilets will stop overflowing now and all the other stuff?” asked Clarence.
“The toilets will be over, but the comforting won’t stop,” I said. “She’ll always be with them. This is St. Sebastian.”
“I think that’s a good thing.” Clarence’s eyes sparkled. “I was on the news. Can you believe that? Me.”
“I totally believe it.”
“My principal called me and she said she was impressed. Parents are calling and asking to have their kiddos in my class next year. Nobody’s going to say I don’t know anything about the real world anymore.”
“You rock, Sister,” I said.
Clarence beamed at me and Aunt Miriam pursed her thin lips.
“Now to the bad news,” I said. “Let me have it.”
Chuck rushed over and got between me and that cane. He’s a good man, but it wasn’t necessary. “Everyt
hing alright?”
“Probably not.”
“Mercy did good,” said Chuck. “You have to know that.”
Aunt Miriam made a throaty growl that made both Clarence and Chuck take a step back. For someone so old and tiny, she was pretty freaking scary. But not to Moe. The pocket dog growled right back and I considered trying to steal her from Fats. You gotta love a dog that doesn’t give a crap.
“How about you get me another hot chocolate?” I asked Chuck.
“Are you sure?”
I was and I sent Clarence to Myrtle, since she looked like she might need a gentle hand to sit her down.
Clarence hugged me before going. “We did good. I’m so proud.”
It doesn’t feel good, but it is good.
“We did.”
Clarence and Chuck left me with my elderly, angry aunt and I got myself ready for war or, at least, a minor skirmish.
“Okay,” I said with a good amount of belligerence. “You’re pissed. You know what? Don’t care. A serial killer is dead and victims’ families are going to get the answers that they’ve been waiting decades for. So, as Grandad says, put that in your pipe and smoke it.”
“You went against the family,” she said in a low hiss that made the hair stand up on the back of my neck.
“I did not,” I said. “The Girls are my family and you know it.”
“I know no such thing.”
“Whatever. Can I ask you a question?”
“No.”
“I’ll tell Clarence,” I threatened.
Aunt Miriam’s wispy brows shot up. “Clarence loves me. I’m her mentor.”
“She helped me, Aunt Miriam. She’s here because she thought this should happen. Sister Frances sent her and she wanted to do it.”
Her lower lip trembled. “I don’t know about that.”
“I do,” I said. “Why didn’t you save me the trouble and identify Sister Maggie’s medal? You knew it was hers.”
Chuck brought us mugs of hot chocolate, took one look at our faces, and said, “I’ll just be waiting over there.”
“Tell me,” I said.
“You don’t deserve anything from me,” she said.
“Look at my arm and face and say that again.”
She flicked a brief glance at me and looked away to Myrtle, who was in a quiet conversation with Clarence. “I didn’t want to know.”
“What? Who really did it?”
“I knew who did it.”
“Father Dominic? Seriously?” I asked.
Aunt Miriam forced her watery blue eyes to look at me. “I knew what no one else did. Maggie told me a couple of days before she disappeared that she’d decided not to abandon her vows. She wasn’t going to run off and marry Dominic.”
“So?”
“She was scared, very worried about what he would do when she told him,” she said.
I almost couldn’t respond. “Maggie thought Dominic might kill her?”
“No. Pay attention, Mercy.”
“I am.”
“She thought he might hurt himself. She was very scared about that and I thought with the way he acted that he must’ve hurt her instead and was wracked with guilt.”
“But what’s that got to do with identifying the medal?” I asked.
“I didn’t know where her medal went. We never found Dominic’s body. Someone could’ve gotten it out of the river or maybe he gave it to someone. Maybe she lost it. I didn’t know. The way he was after Maggie was found…”
“Did you think he might not be dead?”
“No. Of course not.” She raised her voice and the whole room turned and looked. “You still aren’t paying attention.”
I bent over to her. “I am listening. I’m trying to understand.”
A tear rolled down her cheek. “I knew that she was going to tell him no. I knew, only me, and I wanted to tell Mother Superior about it, but Maggie asked me not to and I didn’t. I felt in my heart I should, but I didn’t, and she died. Then he died. I could’ve prevented it. I had a feeling something wasn’t right. She was so worried and upset. She wasn’t sleeping. Something was coming and I ignored it.”
“You had a feeling, like Dad gets,” I said astonished.
“And you get.” She glared at me. “Except you wouldn’t have ignored it.”
“Er…maybe.”
She snorted.
“Okay. Probably not.”
“I let my friend and mentor die because I didn’t follow my instinct. Seeing that medal brought it all back. The way she looked when she told me her decision. Dominic’s uncontrolled grief. I just couldn’t and I didn’t think it would do any good. How could that terrible place in Kansas have anything to do with Maggie? It didn’t seem possible. Dominic did it. I was sure and bringing all this up again would just hurt Millicent and Myrtle. They would have to know that I had let Maggie down. Did you see Millicent? She’s heartsick. The thought of what that man did to Maggie—”
“Don’t think about it,” I said. “Don’t give him the satisfaction wherever he is.”
“Burning in hell,” said Aunt Miriam with complete conviction.
“Exactly. Let him burn.”
“And what about you?”
“Me?” I asked.
“They said on the news that the other one told you all the things he did. You heard it all.”
“It is what it is.” I risked gently touching her arm and whispered, “How are you feeling?”
“Very well, thank you,” she said primly.
“So I may have—”
“Told Sister Clarence and Sister Frances about my predicament? Yes, I know and I do not forgive you.”
“They understand.”
“Frances says that she will attend my next appointment thanks to you.”
“She can help,” I said.
She brushed my hand off her arm. “You’ll be the one to help.”
“Huh?”
“I hear you will be running the fish fries during Lent,” she said.
Oh, no! Oh, no!
“Well, actually I won our bet,” I said. “So no fish fries.”
“Is Frances coming to my appointments?” Aunt Miriam asked.
“Er…yes?”
“I’m glad we understand each other.” The stink eye was sizzling and I took a step back. “And, Mercy, you will come to the special mass tonight.”
“I guess,” I said.
“Wrong answer,” she said.
“Okay.”
Aunt Miriam left it at that, for the moment, but I had no illusions about my having a choice. I would be at mass, and if I had to guess, there’d be a lot of masses in my future.
She headed into the party that had switched to telling ghost stories and, unless I misunderstood, there was a vampire living at the bowling alley and witches a couple of towns over. Vampires and bowling alleys do not go together in any book I’d read, so I chalked it up to the tequila shots and whiskey ice cream.
I wasn’t feeling very raucous so I sucked down my hot chocolate and gave the mug to Aaron for a refill before I went out into the hall to have a breather, but Patton came dashing down the stairs and nearly bowled me over.
“Holy crap!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine. Everything okay?”
“Oh, yeah. I left the boxes on your bed,” she said. “I hope that’s alright.”
I drew a blank. “Boxes?”
“Oh. Um…Chief Stratton decided to release the evidence from your great grandparents’ crash to you. I thought you knew.”
“Somebody said something,” I said. “So it’s Chief Stratton now?”
“Yeah, Will resigned and she took the reins. It’s about time.”
“How’d that happen?”
“He saw himself on the news and it was so bad. He’s going to rehab. We’re crossing our fingers.”
“Here’s hoping,” I said.
“How’s your uncle? Did the surgery go okay?”
I smiled,
remembering the relief I felt at hearing Uncle Morty bawl me out over recovery time and not coming to the hospital through a blizzard and closed highways. He was doing fine but his family had finally gotten there. His mother insisted on sleeping in his room and you’d think she was poking him in the eyeball with a red hot fork.
“Good. But he can’t fly for a while,” I said.
“Bummer,” she said with a big grin.
A big burst of laughter erupted behind me and Patton headed in. Aaron had promised her a heavenly hot chocolate with spiced rum. She went toward bliss and I went up the stairs. Those boxes were calling to me. It was time. Ready or not.
I was afraid of what I’d find in the Lilac Room. Irene moved me there when Chuck turned up and it was one of those rooms that ghost-seeking guests sought out. Nothing had happened so far, but it couldn’t last. Miss Elizabeth thought I was interesting and she wasn’t likely to forget.
“Can you give me one small break?” I asked with my hand on the doorknob.
“No,” said the voice in my head.
“Ah, come on.”
Miss Elizabeth laughed and I opened the door. There on the foot of the bed were the evidence boxes, open with the contents arranged as if Agatha and Daniel would come in at any minute and get dressed.
“You kind of suck, you know that?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Mercy?” Chuck came up beside me with a worried look on his handsome face. “Who are you talking to?”
“Me,” Miss Elizabeth said.
I glanced at him to see if he heard that, but he didn’t. Creepy was my department apparently. “Nobody. Myself. I might be losing it.”
“You are not losing it.”
“Thanks.”
“You already lost it a long time ago.”
“You skunk!”
Chuck wrestled me into submission—I didn’t try very hard—and carried me to the bed where he dumped me unceremoniously on the bed next to the evidence. I reached for the police report folder, but he stopped me.
“We need to talk,” he said. “That can wait.”
I bit my lip.
“It’s not bad.”
“Is it about moving?”
“Yes.”
Then it’s bad.
“Can’t that please wait? I know you have plans and listings and more plans, but I just—”
