The Missing Madonna

by Carol Anne O'Marie

  “Excuse me.” Buddy edged his way around the elder Duran and toward Ree.

  At first glance, Mary Helen was taken aback. Although he was slight, his resemblance to Erma was uncanny. Like his mother, he was short, curly-haired, and had the same brown eyes and round face. She felt a sudden ache. How she wished good old Erma would walk into the room right now, smile, and give them each that little squeeze of hers.

  Buddy kissed Lucy on the cheek, shook Finn’s hand, and smiled warmly at the group of women he didn’t know.

  He was so gentle and polite that, at first, Mary Helen hardly noticed his earrings. To her knowledge, the only men who ever wore an earring were sailors who had crossed the international date line. Recently, she had noticed lots of sailors in San Francisco.

  When she mentioned this, Sister Anne had explained they weren’t all sailors. Depending on whether the earring was in the right or left ear, Anne had said, it indicated that the wearer was either straight or gay. Although, to save her life, Mary Helen could never remember which was which. But this Buddy had an earring in each ear. She would have to question Anne on that one.

  “Buddy is an artist,” Lucy announced proudly. “Right now he works part-time as a docent at the De Young Museum. But someday he’ll be famous.”

  Embarrassed, Buddy shrugged. “I’m not really an artist yet,” he said.

  Regardless, he looked the part—from his sandals to his rose-tinted glasses, earrings, and the wispy tail of hair curling down the scrawny nape of his neck.

  “Now that the boys are here we’ll get back to business,” Noelle said, being very careful, Mary Helen noted, not to ask about Junior’s line of work. “If you’ll just take a seat, we can proceed.”

  Junior recovered his voice, but the interval had not improved his manners. “What the hell happened to the old lady?” he shouted, ignoring Noelle’s rules of order. “Ree says she’s missing.” He swaggered toward the center of the room.

  “If anything happens to her, you bastard”—he took a menacing step toward Finn—“you’ve me to answer to. Got that?” He pointed a thick finger at the man’s bald head. Mary Helen was startled to see that the nail was gnawed to the quick.

  Stiffening, Finn met Junior’s dare with hard hazel eyes, the little yellow specks in them quivering. “Is that so, Junior?” Finn clenched his fists, his knuckles turning white. “If I was you, sonny boy, I’d be real careful who I call a bastard and who I’d pick to get tough with.”

  Taken aback, Mary Helen watched the usually polite, accommodating Mr. Finn rise. She felt the hair on the back of her neck rise with him. A verbal battle was one thing; a real one was something else again!

  Deliberately flexing his muscles, Junior glowered at Finn. The Mother and heart tattooed on his chest seemed to swell.

  Much to Mary Helen’s chagrin, Finn didn’t back down even an inch. “You, sonny boy, was the one here pestering her the day she took off.” He nodded toward the young man with contempt. “You and your lousy motorcycle and your lousy mouth.”

  Enraged, Junior set his jaw, pulled back his thick right arm, and squared off. Mary Helen was sure he was ready and able to throw the first punch.

  Before she realized what she was doing, she was up from her chair and standing between the two.

  “That will do!” she said in a voice that had stopped many a school-yard brawl midpunch.

  Despite their anger both men stopped, shocked. But neither, Mary Helen was certain, felt as shocked as she did. There are some habits that just don’t leave you. Swallowing hard, she met their stares with one of her own.

  “I said, That will do!”

  Scowling, the men studied her. She wondered for a moment if either one would try to test her.

  “Sit down!” she commanded, not bothering to consider what she would do if either one of them didn’t.

  Just as she suspected, it was Junior who caved in first.

  * * *

  A general sense of relief descended on Erma’s living room the moment the boys left. As the roar of the motorcycle faded farther and farther into the distance, the atmosphere became almost festive.

  Lucy giggled. “Let me get us all a glass of wine,” she offered. “I know exactly where Erma keeps the hooch. She would want us to have one and, God knows, about now we need it!”

  “Good heavens, Lucy! It’s still morning,” Noelle protested, more for appearance than anything else, Mary Helen suspected.

  “It’s four o’clock somewhere!” Lucy called, clinking bottles in a cupboard under the sink.

  “There’s an old saying we have back home,” Eileen piped up. Mary Helen winced, knowing full well the old saying Eileen had in mind. “ ‘We may as well be drunk as the way we are!’ ” Eileen took the stemmed glass from Lucy.

  “Here’s to our success in locating Erma.” Noelle, determined to remain their leader, proposed the toast. Smiling, they all raised their glasses.

  “And to Sister Mary Helen who, thank God, did not get her block knocked off!” Lucy added.

  Still a little shaken, Sister Mary Helen felt a lump begin to form in her throat. To good old Erma Duran—she thought, trying to smile brightly—wherever she is. And please, Lord, help us to find that out. Fast! Before we have any more mornings like this one.

  * * *

  Caroline fished in her Louis Vuitton clutch bag for her gloves. “Where do we go from here?” she asked.

  As a matter of form, Noelle consulted her peacock-blue pocket calendar. “Tomorrow, as you know, is Sunday and Mother’s Day, to boot,” she said. “We all have obligations, I am sure, so I propose we meet at the same time on Monday. If no one has heard from Erma by then, I feel we not only could but should report her as a missing person.”

  “Monday? But Mommy would never be away from us on Mother’s Day without calling.” Ree’s round face was flushed and she looked dangerously close to tears. The strain of the last week was beginning to tell on her.

  “Relax, Ree.” Finn, who had apparently regained his composure, twirled the stem of his empty wineglass between his fingers. “It’s not like we don’t know where she said she’d be. Besides”—he stood up and set his glass on the coffee table—“I’ve got a hunch she’ll call tomorrow.”

  “You and your hunches!” Ree’s large eyes narrowed with resentment. She pulled her mouth into a pout but said no more. Mary Helen was glad. She didn’t know if her nerves were up to another fight.

  Mumbling something about checking on supplies in the kitchen, Finn had the good sense to leave.

  Caroline moved to the edge of her chair, poised to go.

  “Has anyone anything further to add?” Apparently, Noelle sensed the meeting was getting ready to break up. She glanced in Caroline’s direction.

  “I have nothing to add.” Caroline stood and tilted her beautifully coiffured head of champagne-colored hair. “I would just like to concur with Noelle”—she gazed around the room, innocently batting her eyes—“that if by Monday Erma has not yet been heard from, we should either pee or get off the pot.”

  She swept from the room and down the stairs, leaving the rest of the group questioning their hearing.

  “Thank God she cleaned it up a bit for present company.” Noelle gathered up her blue paisley umbrella. “Monday morning, then? Here at ten-thirty,” she reiterated, then followed Caroline.

  Standing, Mary Helen straightened her skirt and checked her wristwatch. Not even noon, and nothing to do but mark time until Monday. For whatever reason, she felt a little uneasy about the wait. Yet maybe Mr. Finn was right. Maybe Erma would call and they would all feel foolish for having worried. She looked to see if her friend was ready to go.

  “Let me get your raincoats.” Lucy bustled toward Erma’s bedroom with Eileen close behind. Mary Helen followed.

  The moment she stepped across the threshhold, a dampness made her shiver. Suddenly lightheaded, she stopped. Although the room was chilly, perspiration broke out on her forehead. Her palms felt clammy. She tried to t
ake a deep breath and pull herself together, but she could barely swallow. The inside of her mouth felt so furry. The room was tilting around her.

  Could it be the wine on an almost empty stomach? Or was it something else? Something unseen yet felt in Erma’s bedroom? Was it the same foreboding—a premonition perhaps, that had made her so uneasy when she awoke this morning?

  Don’t be silly, old girl. Those things only happen in your mystery stories, Mary Helen told herself. Yet she could feel her legs begin to tremble. She grabbed for the end of Erma’s bed to keep from falling.

  “Glory be to God, you look like the wreck of the Hesperus.” Eileen stood in front of her, a damp raincoat in each hand. “Sit down.” She nodded toward the bed. “Quickly!”

  Still holding on, Mary Helen stumbled, then sat heavily on the foot of Erma’s bed. “All of a sudden, I’m just a little dizzy.”

  “Put your head between your knees.” Lucy was beside Eileen in a moment. “Breathe deeply.”

  Closing her eyes, Mary Helen did as she was told. The last thing anyone needed this morning was for her to faint.

  The dizziness passed slowly. She blinked her eyes open and it was then that she saw it hanging down from under the edge of the bed: a gold chain with a large filigree-edged medal dangling from it. It was caught, caught on a bedspring. Mary Helen’s heart gave a jolt The medal looked familiar. Where had she seen it before? Her mind flashed back to New York, to Bloomingdale’s. The mugging! Erma’s medal. That’s what it was! She could see Erma, her chubby hand covering her throat. Her brown eyes troubled. What had she said? I don’t know what I would do if anything ever happened to this. Could it be the same—

  Crouching down on the floor, Mary Helen dug at the spring from underneath the bed. She couldn’t reach it. She tilted her head to take a better look through her bifocals. Kneeling, she lifted the edge of the mattress and stuck her hand into one of the metal spirals.

  “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.