I almost stumbled as I stood. “What?”
She took my hand and I let her lead me to the couch. I didn’t resist when she pulled me down beside her then lifted my arm across her shoulder. We were eye to eye. When she took a deep breath, those breasts rubbed against my chest and my hard-on just got harder. You are in so much trouble.
“When you kissed me. It started as a married man’s kiss, but ended somewhere between horny and let me jump your bones.”
Because I couldn’t do anything else, I laughed. Tears filled my own eyes and an uncontrollable tickle from the bottom of my throat bubbled up into more laughter, harder laughter. I tilted my head. She blushed then one giggle became more. Her body vibrated with the release of our shared laughter. I pulled her tight against me, slanted my head and again kissed this incredible woman.
We had taken one giant step in our relationship. I was ready to give in and start living again, really living. All because of her. How I wanted to put myself deep inside her. I pressed my lips to her ear to whisper, “You make me feel so alive.”
“Let me move under you.”
“Wait. No. Not-not now.”
Heart pounding, I pulled away to adjust my pants and sat up, clasping my hands between my knees as if to control them. The curtain on my imagination shifted, unsure if it intended to stay down or pull up to let me see what was possible with Lori.
I heard the frustration and disappointment when she asked, “What? What’s the hell’s wrong now?”
“Timing. I still don’t have my shit together, enough, Lori. Please. Just . . . forgive me, okay?” Only silence answered me. I couldn’t look at her. “How about we, ah, get dressed and go out to eat?”
Anger clipped her words back at me. “Why not undress and go to bed?”
“Lori, please. Shit, it took me over two years just to kiss you. Don’t you think jumping straight into bed is pushing it, moving a little too fast?”
“Well, excuse me, Father Dumb Ass. I guess I’m too used to having sex before the kiss. Having a kiss then sex screws up my mind. How about if we smoke a goddamn joint first? Would that put you in the mood?”
“Stop it. I’m feeling enough like a Dumb Ass. Let’s just leave it alone for now.”
I jumped to my feet and almost ran to my patio door. The flagstones outside felt like a griddle under my bare feet. I hurried to the shaded side, took a deep breath and watched a boat’s sails flap against the wind as the lake sailor changed direction.
Lori startled me when she spoke from behind me, “I’m trying hard, real goddamn hard to understand. So . . .” Her voice shifted to forced cheerfulness. “I’ll get dressed, but it’s too early for a meal. How about a dart game at the Tickle Pink?”
I looked at her framed in the doorway, clutching her robe closed, so damn beautiful and so damn young. “Works for me.”
My phone rang. She quickly turned back inside and reappeared with the cordless to her ear. “Hi, Harry. Yeah, Bob’s right here. We just finished a modeling session. Yeah, he seemed to enjoy it, but he’s a mess today. The one-man show coming up has got him in a helluva mood.” Once again she flipped me off as she continued listening. “He did? That’s great. We’ll see you in a few minutes.”
“It’s early for Harry to get off work.”
“He’s eating a late lunch here. Says he’s got important news to share.”
“What about?”
“Seems Tommy has been released from jail.”
Chapter 6
My brother Donald said his cheerful goodbyes and I hung up the phone.
The opening patio door screeched like nails on a chalkboard. Sand and rocks from the lakeshore beach had taken up residence and needed to be vacuumed out of the door track. On the other hand, the noise was as good as a hundred dollars-a-month security alarm. I closed the desk drawer and locked it then glanced across the den to double check I had replaced the phony books in front of the wall safe.
Lori shouted from the living room, “Bob, you still here?”
“Yeah, be right there!”
At the end of the hall, I stepped into the large room facing the lake. Lori stood at the patio door, probably aware the midday light shining through her sundress outlined her perfect form. Yeah, I’m certifiably crazy.
She lit a cigarette then let the smoke drift from her mouth. “Has Harry made it?”
“Not yet.”
“So, how is Donald?”
Lori had gone home to change when my brother in Chicago called. “He’s okay. He wanted to notify me that I made another hundred thousand this quarter on my investments with his import business.”
She grunted and shook her head but smiled at me. “It must be nice not to care about that much money.”
“Oh, he also said you and Harry each made ten thousand. My brother has the touch of Midas.”
“Midas?”
“The fairy tale?” She shook her head. “Anyway, Donald buying into a bigger company two years ago has paid off for all of us.”
“Paid off? It’s making us rich. Think I’ll go shopping this afternoon. Maybe buy a G-string swim suit or see-through nightgown.”
I refused to take the bait realizing I had not discouraged her one bit. The doorbell saved me from saying something else stupid.
Harry and I entered the kitchen as Lori placed microwave-warmed pizza slices on plates. “Bob has diet pop, beer and California champagne. What do you want, Harry?”
He took a seat. “Water.”
“You just made ten thousand on the import investment. How about champagne?”
He shrugged. “I’ll wait until tonight to celebrate with Ann. I have to go back to work.”
Lori shook her head. “I’ll at least put ice in your water.”
I grabbed another beer from the refrigerator before sitting down before my plate. Harry didn’t waste any time. He groaned in pleasure on his mouthful of pizza with a string of cheese hanging down his chin.
“This is like manna from heaven, only it’s pizza. Get it?” he mumbled, chuckling at his own joke. “Did you or Lori choose this?”
“Can’t remember. It’s left over from last night. Since you never showed up, we had to try to eat two large ones.”
He swallowed and wiped his face with a paper napkin. “Sorry about that. Ann had me take the girls to a movie, then, ah, Ann and I . . . .got busy later. Best part of being married, ya know?” He took another bite.
Lori watched me over the top of her slice. I shifted and focused on Harry. “So what’s this about Father Manning?”
Harry held his chest as he swallowed his over-sized bite of the half-chewed Italian delicacy. After a gulp of water, he cleared his throat like a bear growling. “Sgt. Slominski called me about an hour ago. The county attorney decided to drop the charges because of lack of evidence. The murder weapon is a .22 caliber Lady Smith revolver. The cops found it on a wino. He said he took it out of a dumpster near the river. Forensics worked hard but couldn’t find Father Manning’s prints on it. The rifling matched the slugs found in Penny.”
“Why did Slominski call you?”
Harry took on a smaller bite. “Fr. Manning requested it. It seems he misplaced the phone numbers for some Fr. Dominic Assini and a Sr. Mary Catherine. He wanted them to pick him up at two this afternoon.”
“Why didn’t he call his church to send someone?”
“You’re asking too many goddamn questions. Shit, the priest wants you, not them. Get it?”
“We got an hour,” Lori pointed out. “I’ll run home and change.”
Harry looked her over. “You look fine. He just wants out of jail. I’m sure he wouldn’t care what you wore. Just don’t call yourself Sr. Mary Catherine in that sexy dress.”
I shook my head. “No, she’s right. We’ll have to go in costume. Fr. Manning had a reason for mentioning the priest and nun. If he wanted Bob and Lori, he would’ve had Slominski call me instead of you.”
“Maybe he didn’t have your phone number. I got the
call at work.”
“But he asked for Fr. Dominic and Sr. Mary Catherine. He doesn’t want us, he wants them. Now do you get it?”
I dreaded the thought of again putting on the dark priestly suit. Through the window, specks of reflected sunlight danced across the calm lake and heat waves rose into false clouds on the horizon.
“Lori, you changed here to cool off in the lake. That nun’s habit is still in my closet. You can change first, but be quick about it.”
She hurried off as I picked up the paper plates.
Harry laughed and slapped his hand on the table. “Now, Bob, that’s a good one. A nun leaving her habit in the priest’s bedroom. Don’t ever tell Ann that one.”
I tapped the release that opened the concealed trash bin. It slid out and I dropped the plates in. Dishes done. “Speaking of Ann. You recall when Daley was shot? After phoning the cops, you tried to call Ann and she didn’t answer.”
Harry cocked an eyebrow. “Are you thinking Ann shot him?”
“Of course not. You just rushed out of here like something might have happened to her, too.”
. “She had some errands and didn’t take the cell . . . like someone else I know in this room.” Harry wiped at his chin with the napkin. “Did I get it all off? Don’t want to go back to work looking like the downtown bum I once was.”
* * *
I parked the four-door Mercedes Benz in the lot outside the County Correction facility. As she opened her door, Lori flipped her cigarette to the pavement and stepped on it.
“The cops will put your ass in jail for littering. Why didn’t you put the butt it in the ash tray?”
Adjusting her veil, she stood up and let the folds settle around her. “They wouldn’t arrest a nun, would they?”
I left the cool car, forcing myself to accept the afternoon oven. I hoped never to wear the cheap black suit and tight collar ever again. Lori stared expectantly at me across the car top. “Why wouldn’t they arrest a ‘saintly’ nun when they would arrest a priest? Besides, they would be suspicious to see a nun smoking.”
“That stiff collar matches your stiff neck, Fr. Dumb Ass.”
I narrowed my eyes and shook a priestly finger at her. “Remind me to talk to you about quitting that disgusting habit.”
“Knock off the nun-pun jokes. If the cops are going to be suspicious about something, they would probably wonder how a piss-poor priest can afford a Mercedes.”
“Hm, if the subject comes up, I’ll say I won it at bingo. Besides, the Ferrari doesn’t have room for three people. Maybe no one will notice.”
I opened the glass doors allowing Sr. Mary Catherine to enter first. She stood with her hands folded, jangling the wooden beads while I approached the lady behind the Plexiglas window.
Informed Fr. Manning was being processed, I settled into a plastic chair next to Lori, murmuring “Fifteen minutes.”
We tried to look religiously patient. I focused on the floor, counting tiles while Lori played with her beads. A pricey white Nike peeked from under her black skirts.
I whispered, “You planning to jog?”
“The sod busters that came with the fucking nun threads ended up in my swim bag I took to my house. I’m surprised you didn’t see these before now.”
“Who ever looks at your feet, even in the nun threads? I hope one of the guards doesn’t check for identification. Those shoes and your mouth might wave flags that we’re not who we say we are.”
“What? Shit, I’m sure a nun can wear any shoes she wants. None of them ever walk for exercise? Besides, Fr. Dumb Ass, if any of the guards are Catholic they would know this outfit hasn’t been worn for a few years by most nuns. The other day I noticed a bunch outside a Catholic school in shorter skirts and no veils.”
“How’d you know they were nuns?”
She held up her beads with the crucifix dangling. “And they still wore the sod buster shoes with dark hose. All dressed alike, like five of them. What else would they be?”
“Well, I think some orders could choose—”
“Not around here,” she interrupted me, which I wasn’t sure a nun would do to a priest. “Tommy even mentioned it at Ann’s birthday party. I asked if he was too warm in the collar and suit. The conversation went to nun’s clothing.”
“Then why in hell did you purchase a habit?”
“It’s the only thing they had at the shop.”
“Why didn’t Fr. Manning say something when we visited him?”
“I don’t know, ask him. I think he’s coming.”
A different door than the one to the visitor’s hallway click loudly then slid open. The heavy steel moved in a channel of tempered iron. Behind it we could see a short hallway and floor-to-ceiling bars. Hands folded, Lori and I stood in unison as if ready to sing at a High Mass.
Unescorted, Manning stepped towards us. He wore the suit and collar he had arrived in. He walked forward, his right hand extended. I firmly held it for a few extra seconds. His nervous glance kept returning to the entrance glass doors.
“Everything covered, Father?”
“Yes, I do believe so. I signed papers, got a receipt for my clothes and all. I was told—” he leaned forward confidentially, “—that I was never legally arrested. Isn’t that strange?”
I clapped him on the shoulder to urge him toward the front door Lori held open. “Don’t worry about it now. Answers are coming.”
At the doorway, he hesitated, glancing quickly from Lori to me. “I think-Ah, we may have some trouble outside. Are you carrying a weapon?”
Lori let the door close and the three of us huddled behind it as if in prayer.
“No.” I stared hard into the priest’s eyes. “Why would I need one? Before we step out that door you need to tell me what’s the matter.”
He licked his lips, working his hands in agitation. “I can’t say right now, but be prepared.”
I looked at his shaking hands and the sweat on his upper lip. Definitely scared. “Okay. Sr. Mary Catherine, get behind us and be ready to put those Nikes to use. I left the car unlocked. Open the front passenger door for Father to dive in, if necessary. You get in the back quick and stay low. I’ll do the fancy driving. Everybody got it?”
They nodded. Manning crossed himself; we didn’t bother.
The first thing I saw was a black Lincoln illegally parked in a fire zone. It hadn’t been there when we went in. The shadows of two people in the front seat could be seen beyond the tinted windshield. Our strides were long and snappy as we passed.
I murmured, “Is that the trouble, Father?”
“Could be. Where’s your car?”
“Ahead on the right. Next to the red Toyota.”
“The Mercedes?” he said with surprise.
“I won it playing bingo.”
With the Lincoln behind us, my heart pounded so hard I thought it could be heard. Instead, Lori’s black shirts swished loudly as she passed us to open the doors.
“You don’t work undercover much do you?” Manning asked with a shaky voice.
“But we try hard.”
The passenger doors slammed shut as I dropped into my seat and rammed the key into the ignition. As I backed, the Lincoln edged towards us.
“Alright, Tommy, who’s in the pimp car?” Lori asked.
He had slumped down, barely able to see over the dash or door. “I don’t know. A cellmate told me someone planned to hurt me as soon as I was released.”
“Where’d he get that information?”
“He—”
My hitting the dip of the driveway’s drainage grate startled him. He frowned uncertainly at me like he doubted my ability to perform any fancy driving. I whipped onto St. Mary Avenue and wove the car through the thin traffic. The Lincoln wasn’t that far behind.
“Shit!” I exclaimed after a glance in the rearview-mirror.
Manning cleared his throat “He-he received a message from a person named Worm.”
Lori sat forward. “He’s a st
reet bum who works for Fox. Tommy, remember Fox was Penny’s pimp? And a drug dealer.” The priest’s eyes widened as he looked at her veil-framed face peering over the car seat. “Spill your guts. Why would anyone want to hurt you?” she demanded.
I glanced at him as he kind of deflated. “I don’t know. I just plain don’t know. Except . . . I may have seen the person who killed Penny. I remember walking by someone who was in the dark hallway.”
My eyes met Lori’s in the mirror.
Wringing his hands again, Father Manning rambled on, “Once you get me to St. Anthony’s, Bishop Dergan will be sending me to a retreat in Missouri. I think he will, anyway. I was scheduled to go before all this. Yes, that will be perfect. I’ll be safe there.”
The Lincoln was two cars back in the lane to my right, on Manning’s side of the car. “How can you be sure?”
“It’s blasphemy to perform violent acts on sacred ground. I confessed my sins to Monsignor Henderson and he petitioned the Bishop. The Lord is with me now and He will protect me as long as I do my secluded penance in Missouri.”
The traffic in front of us slowed. “So, why didn’t you have the monsignor or somebody from the Bishop’s office pick you up?”
From the corner of my eye I saw him look at me in surprise. “I didn’t want any harm to come to anyone else from the church. With your collar-length hair and short beard, you don’t look much like a priest. I thought, because of your likelihood of being a private detective, you and Miss Saint would carry guns.”
Again Lori and I glanced at one another in the mirror
I shook my head. “I told you before, we aren’t detectives.”
“Since I know you’re not police officers, why else would you be investigating a murder?”
I pulled around the cars stopped in the turning lanes of the next light. The Lincoln was only one car directly behind now. Lori had looked as she settled back in her seat. Her beads rattled as she glanced from the mirror to the view out the back window.
I wondered if all priests were as chatty when Manning continued, “Lori looks like a nun and resembles an Italian saint. I always thought she would be something more than, well, you know, and she told me about improving her life. Your confidence and forcefulness . . . well, I was told you two would protect me. I just assumed you would carry a gun to do that.”
Searching for Harpies Page 8
