The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3

by Alexie Aaron

  “Hang on, Mom, help is coming!” Noelle called out.

  “I wish you wouldn’t keep using the word hang,” I mumbled.

  “Ms. Fin-Lathen, are you alright?” Billy said as he carefully stepped around the pit. He had a long stick that he tested the ground with before he stepped onto it. Suddenly there was a lot of light, and I heard the roar of an engine. “My father is trying to bring the little tractor as close as he can. Can you lift your arms?”

  I tried to move them and found as I wriggled my fingers of my right hand that I could feel them with my left. “Billy, I think my wrists are tied together.” I proceeded to move my feet in the same matter and found they too were in close proximity to each other. “My ankles must be tied too.”

  “Maybe we can get a rope around her neck,” suggested an out of breath Paisley.

  “No, we could break her neck pulling her out,” a new male voice joined the conversation. “Billy, I’m thinking the rake...”

  “Dad, that’s going to hurt, what about that old ladder Angie has in the barn?”

  “Hello...” I called out. “Use the rake or pitchfork if you have to...just get me out of here.”

  “Ms. Fin-Lathen, my Dad and Angie are going back for the ladder. This is what I think is going to work here. We’re going to tie or chain the ladder to the tractor. I’m going to ease it out to you. The rest of them are going to try to use their weight and hold it down as I crawl out and get a hold of you.”

  “Don’t risk yourself...”

  “I’d do it for a cow...”

  “Thanks, I will take that as a compliment,” I said through my teeth.

  “Mom!” Noelle called out.

  “Yes.”

  “Paz is lighter, so we’re going to use her. I’m tying a rope around her just in case she falls in.”

  I heard shouts and a lot of discussion going on. It seemed like everyone had a better idea. I heard Billy’s dad bark something out, and then all I heard was the tractor start up. The troops carefully carried the ancient ladder to the edge of the pit and eased it forward towards me. I heard someone shout, but the rumbling of the tractor made it impossible to understand what was said. The ladder was held above water by the weight of the rescuers on the wide end of it. The tractor sound cut out and the still morning held a duet with Paisley’s frequent cuss words as she crawled towards me.

  “I’m at the end of the bloody ladder, and I need another three feet,” she called out. “Come on, it smells freaking horrible out here. Hang on, Cin. Come on, closer, closer. Stop!”

  I felt Paisley’s thin arms around me. She had locked her hands together after criss-crossing my upper body. “Pull!” her voice pierced my eardrums not unlike a very bad trumpet player. I felt my body being pulled, but there was resistance at my neck and my feet. The necklace was still holding me to the tree and something was caught up in my legs.

  “Use the freaking tractor! I can’t hold on much longer!”

  I heard the tractor start up and slowly the ladder with the Paisley hook on the end pulled me towards dry ground. The necklace tore itself from the branch and my top half was free. The sun cut over the far hillside giving me a view of the pit I had spent the night in. The dark water was thick with muck. As my body was pulled onto the dry ground I could see my knees and then my legs, tied at the ankles. Between my ankles was a bony hand caught up in the ropes! This hand had an arm and this arm had a shoulder and...Paisley was screaming, her hands clawing into my sides. A white fleshy face silently screamed back at her.

  Strong arms replaced Paisley’s. Noelle pulled me until I was able to sit up. My bonds were cut and my arms were free. The poor soul from the bog was still attached to me. I sat there and watched as the white skin turned dark red-brown as the morning air worked on it. Paisley was crying. Her sobs intermingled with cuss words.

  “Shhhhhh,” I heard myself say. “I think we need to be very careful here.” My hitchhiker looked less and less frightening as the remaining flesh started to dry. “I think I was meant to join this one last night.”

  “Who do you think it is?” Noelle’s voice said quietly.

  “I don’t know, but its wearing clothes and a chain.” I carefully eased my legs up. My bog-soaked shoes made this effort very difficult. I bent forward, reached down and caught the bonds that had tied my feet. I pulled at them and moved the body higher onto the ground. “I can see better. God he’s heavy.”

  “How do you know it’s a he?” Paisley’s voice sniffed.

  I reached forward and lifted the metal that rested against what was left of his chest. I pulled off the pair of dog tags and turned them over in my hand. “Did women wear dog tags?” I rubbed the face of the tags and read, “Williams, Donald G.”

  “Oh my God!” Angie exclaimed just before she hit the ground in a faint.

  I reached out and tenderly touched what was left of his face. “Hello Donald, your family has been looking for you.”

  ~

  I sat there until Cayne and three other local constables and the coroner got there. The Forensic Science Service, FSS, was called in. Billy’s father carried Angie back to the house. Paisley stayed with her until the doctor arrived. Noelle had come up with a blanket and some hot coffee. I know I could have left the scene and let Donald fall back into the pit, but I felt a kinship with him. Father Michael and his Aunt needed the closure that Donald's remains would bring them. He was here all alone for too many years. He wouldn’t be alone anymore. I would see to that. Noelle and I talked in whispers so as to not disturb Donald whose weary head and upper body now rested across my legs.

  “How can you stand having that corpse lying in your lap?”

  “I don’t know, shock maybe? Remember how I had to glove myself to get the dead frog out of the pool?”

  “Yes, you were crying.”

  “Well, I have always been afraid of dead things. The strange thing about it is that the dead can’t hurt you. You told me that.”

  “And you handed me the strainer and told me to get it.”

  “You backed away and told me that you changed your mind. That the dead smelled horrible.”

  “Donald doesn’t smell. I would think he should at least smell as bad as I do. He smells like...”

  “Mulch, Peat moss.”

  Although the emergency workers arrived quickly, it was several hours before the FSS team arrived and had found a way to carefully extract Donald from the bog. I was now certain that this was Father Michael’s missing uncle. How he got in there was a matter for the police. I told Cayne what I had found in the instrument room. I fished out the soggy coach pass I still had in my pocket. I felt very strongly my near death and his were tied together as were Bobby’s fall, the arson attempts and the assaults on Angie.

  I had Noelle go in and get Father Michael’s card from my wallet. She brought it back and even though I had just seen him in Penzance yesterday on the card it listed Manchester next to today’s date. I asked her to give the card to Cayne. He walked over to me and asked me what Father Michael Williams and Donald Williams had in common. I repeated the story as the Father had told me in Penzance. He scratched his head but seemed willing to follow up on my request, barring any objections from his superior.

  The doctor that doubled as the area coroner insisted I be taken into the hospital, but I vetoed him. All I wanted was an hour under a hot shower. I gave a brief statement to Cayne and promised to come in for any other formalities. Noelle hosed most of the muck off of me in the yard. My patent leather shoes were ruined. I decided to ask Mary about whether a person could be cursed. My curse would be that I would never enjoy wearing out a pair of shoes.

  I stripped off my clothes in the barn and walked through the throng of men unnoticed in my towel to the house. Donald held their attention right now, and I thanked him silently as I headed for the shower.

  Chapter Fourteen

  By the time I had washed my hair three times and my body a like number of times the hot water started to wane. I steppe
d out of the shower, and before I dressed I scrubbed down the enclosure. I sure didn’t want the smell or dirt from the bog to ruin my hostess’s beautiful bathroom.

  I threw on some cuddly sweats and worked on the tangles in my hair. The necklace, of which I would never complain about wearing again, I dropped to the inside of my shirt where it nestled comfortably.

  As I passed Angie’s closed door I tapped lightly.

  “Come in,” her clear voice commanded.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked as I entered. She wasn’t in bed as I expected but sitting in a wing back chair with her feet up crocheting. I walked over and pulled up a stool and sat down.

  “I am a bit shocked seeing poor Donald. How are you feeling dear?”

  “I have a big lump on the back of my head, welts under my chin and have ruined my last pair of shoes, but I think I fared pretty well.”

  “Paz thinks the necklace saved you,” Angie said with wide eyes.

  “I think it certainly helped, but I think it was Donald who saved me.”

  “Donald?”

  “I think he’s the music I heard and the light that guided me to the farm. I think the light the girls saw was also Donald. There wasn’t enough moonlight to cause that stone to give off light. I know you might want to chock it up to all the gothic novels I read when I was a teenager, but I was meant to end up in that bog. I was meant to find Donald. It was time.”

  “Time. Speaking of which I have a thought or two. Do you think that Father Michael investigating his uncle’s disappearance triggered the attack on Bobby and me?”

  “I think it’s quite possible considering that the tan man was looking for something, and I found Donald’s wallet. With the picture gone, all that would have tied Donald to this place was your and Bobby’s memory.”

  “Now that he has been found, do you think our troubles will stop?”

  “I don’t honestly know. But what about the estate agent? Someone with money wanted this farm.” I stood up. “Do you want me to bring you a drink?”

  “No, I think I’ll sit a while longer then go to sleep. Father Michael will probably be here early, and I want to make some scones and biscuits.”

  “Wake Noelle, she’ll certainly want to be in on the baking. I am going down to see who the constable du jour is. Good night, Angie.” I bent down and kissed her cheek.

  “Night, Cin. Don’t worry, we’ll buy you some new shoes tomorrow.” She smiled and picked up her crocheting.

  I closed the door gently. I stopped by my room to put on some socks, as my feet were cold. The stairs were carpeted so the girls didn’t know I had come down until I was in the room with them.

  “Hi!”

  Both girls jumped and Noelle threw me that green-eyed look of hers. “Don’t do that!”

  “What’s going on? Is there still activity going on outside?” I plopped into a kitchen chair.

  “All but Constable Ed has left. He is going to watch the house during the night. I just got back from giving him a cup of tea,” Noelle said.

  “That was nice of you. By the way, thank you both for saving my life.” I drew an arm around both girls who wiggled uncomfortably.

  “No problem. Just try to stay away from the corpse pool. Yuck and yuck.” Paz was still a little green.

  “While you were in the shower, Father Michael called. He’s coming in tomorrow. I think he’s taking the train. He told me to tell you, thank you. I called Alex. I told him to take the laptop and webcam over to Bobby’s house at ten o’clock in the morning, Florida time. We’re all going to the Café. Yes, Angie too. We’re going to have a face-to-face interview with Bobby. Paz is excited. She wants to see what my ugly brother looks like.”

  Ugly wouldn’t be the best word to describe Alex, but Alex is the younger brother and committed to pulling younger brother stunts. He knew all Noelle’s buttons and he pushed them well.

  “Wow, you two have things all organized. I have a problem though. I don’t have any shoes to wear.”

  “You only brought two pairs of shoes?” Paz asked.

  “No, I brought three. The first pair I lost when I was running to save Angie from the tractor. The tiller cut it in half. My tennis shoes got covered in blood, and the patent leather ones died in the bog.”

  “What size are your feet?” Paz asked.

  “Nine.”

  “Oh, big ones. Sorry I can’t help you.”

  “Neither can Angie or Noelle.”

  “Well maybe Billy can drop by and get you a pair?”

  “No, I’ll figure it out.”

  “I have a pair of shower thongs. They are big on me,” Noelle offered.

  “That sounds more like it. I could wear them to a shoe store. I knew my brain child would think of something.”

  Noelle beamed.

  “I think we better get some sleep. Tomorrow will be an event I fear.” I kissed my daughter on the cheek and hugged Paisley. They went up the stairs. I turned out the lights and poured myself a nightcap before climbing the stairs after them.

  ~

  I awoke early to the bird song that seemed to fill the outdoors. I opened up the window and stuck my head out. There were all sorts of birds in the trees, and a squirrel chattered from the big tree at the corner of the house. Donald had left and the animals had returned. The aroma of baking sped up my morning routine. I was cleaned up and dressed in record time. I opened my door and was almost run over by Noelle and Paz running down the hall. I followed them a bit more cautiously. Last night’s activity had caught up with my body. The aches and pains were tolerable, but I felt as if I had aged twenty years.

  Angie was in the kitchen and the counters were full of cooling biscuits and scones. Before I asked if I could help, Angie told me to make some coffee. Paz was sent for more wood and Noelle for a jar of preserves.

  “All this fuss over a priest,” I commented.

  “His uncle died here for heaven’s sake.”

  “You didn’t kill him. Odds are he died when you were in the hospital.” I finished measuring the coffee and turned the pot on.

  “I just feel so bad,” Angie moaned.

  “Father Michael is a good man. He doesn’t blame Bathgate. He just wants to see where his uncle learned and where he died. It will bring him closure.”

  “What’s he like?”

  “Father Michael is a handsome man, likes whisky. He seems a bit overprotective of the female gender. I’m not sure I buy the priest part, too convenient.”

  “Convenient?” she questioned.

  “I mean he says he a priest but he seems a bit too…”

  “Human?” Angie raised an eyebrow. “Honestly, priests are part of the human race.”

  “Are you Catholic?”

  “No, but I really don’t think it matters.”

  “Let me assure you. He’s handsome and wounded, but he isn’t worth five batches of biscuits and two batches of scones. Hell, Angie I saved your life. Twice. And you didn’t bake for me.” I put my hands on my hips. “I see how it is. You’re baking for a man. Well go ahead and get foolish over him. He’ll love it.”

  Angie snapped me with a dishtowel. Then she handed it to me and had me dry the baking dishes. Noelle just sauntered by me and stuck her tongue out. She really made me laugh. Paz barely made it in the door with the load of wood she was carrying.

  “There’s a car pulling up. I think it’s Constable Cayne.”

  “He was picking up Father Michael from the train station,” Angie said as she nearly pushed Paz and her armful of wood over as she passed her.

  “So, Mom, is he really that handsome?” Noelle asked.

  “If you like the Gabriel Byrne type.” I yawned and drew in my bare toes to hide them from Noelle and Paz’s running exit.

  I put down my towel and walked to the porch. Father Michael had just got out of the car and, yes, he was in his cassock. I don’t think Noelle was breathing.

  “Forgive me father...” Paz growled quietly.

  “I don’t t
hink I made enough food.” Angie turned to go back into the kitchen.

  “Wait here,” I instructed before I walked off the porch and over to Father Michael

  “Ms. Fin-Lathen.” He drew me into an unexpected hug.

  “Father Michael, you’re stepping on my foot,” I hissed.

  He looked down and laughed, “So I am. Where are your shoes?”

  “Long story. I’m sorry your search had to end this way.”

  “I didn’t think I was going to find him alive.”

  “Come on, your new fan club awaits. And Michael...”

  “Yes?”

  “Remember to eat lots of biscuits and scones.” I patted him on the back and led him to the porch.

  “Father Michael, this is Angie Bathgate.”

  “Good to have you here, Father.”

  “My daughter, Noelle.”

  Noelle just looked at him dreamily.

  “Noelle.”

  “And last but not least, may I present Paisley Price.”

  “Ms Price.” He nodded his head and Paisley curtsied. Well at least she didn’t kiss his ring.

  “Come on inside you must be tired.” I walked past the awestruck girls and opened the door. He walked in followed by Angie and Noelle. Paisley just stood there on the porch staring off into space. I pinched her. Sorry, but this was Michael after all, not the Pope.

  ~

  After stuffing Father Michael full of Angie’s best she took him on a tour of the school. The girls went upstairs, and I returned to the Two-way River. I thought if one had no shoes, one should go where bare feet were a prerequisite.

  I lay on the grassy dry bank of the stream and looked up through the canopy of leaves at the sky and counted my blessings. This was my church: Mother Nature decorated the glade and God filled the air with peace and wonderment. Luke was my first blessing to recall. In the beginning his trust and deep love gave me a foundation in which to build my life. My children educated me in so many special ways. My parents and siblings taught me how to laugh, play most sports, knit, sew, cook and not take myself too seriously.