The Missing Madonna

by Carol Anne O'Marie

  “Where were the rest of you when we needed you?” she asked as accusingly as she could manage. “It’s shame that the three of you left in such a hurry.” Glancing from Noelle to Caroline to Mr. Finn, she let that she in. “We really could have used some moral support Finding Erma’s medal was a terrible shock.” She move toward an empty seat on the couch. It was next to Finn “I’ve barely recovered from it yet.” She squeezed beside him, making room for Eileen.

  “And filling out the missing-person report was really quite an ordeal One I never want to go through again.” Mary Helen paused, satisfied that she had struck just the right martyred tone.

  “Sister’s right” Much to Mary Helen’s relief, Lucy jumped right in.

  “We are also sorry we weren’t with you. After all, we are all supposed to be in this together,” Noelle said, putting a little too much emphasis on the supposed. Obviously she was not buying it.

  “Oh, what difference does it make who went to the police about Mommy?” Ree sniffled nervously. “We were going to do it today, anyway, if she hadn’t called.”

  “I gather no one has heard from Erma?” Apparently Caroline had recovered. She surveyed the group one by one, stopping very pointedly at Mr. Finn. “No phone call yesterday?”

  An awkward silence filled the living room. Finn shrugged, shaking his head. The plastered piece of hair across his crown didn’t even budge. The only sound was another of Ree’s sniffles.

  “Has anyone a suggestion as to what our next step should be?” Caroline asked.

  “What can we do?” Noelle.lit her cigarette. “The whole affair is now out of our hands and in the hands of the police.” Smoke and words came out of her mouth together.

  “Not necessarily. In my opinion, there is plenty we can do.” Mary Helen didn’t want to lose the group. As far as she was concerned, Inspector Honore could use all the help he could get. “You know how busy the police are,” she said. “There are a number of questions we can find the answers to that may help them out.”

  The others looked at her, waiting for her to get more specific.

  “For instance, how did Erma get to the airport? And why did she choose to go to St. Louis? Above all, why did she leave so quickly without saying good-bye? That may be the most important question of all. It is just not like Erma to leave without saying something to her family and friends.”

  Mary Helen paused for breath, hoping she had made her point. Next to her she could feel Finn squirm. She couldn’t see the expression on his face, so she wasn’t sure exactly what his squirm meant.

  “Furthermore, did anyone phone Barbara back?” she continued. “For all we know, Erma may have arrived.”

  The clear, sharp ring of the telephone made them all jump. Could it be Erma? Speak of the devil, and all. The unspoken question hung on the air, yet no one moved toward the phone. It rang a second time.

  “For heaven’s sake, Ree, answer it!” Caroline could not contain herself.

  Reluctantly Ree edged toward the telephone, which blared out a third time. Mary Helen would have sworn it sounded even louder, more insistent.

  “Hello.” Ree answered in a small, frightened voice. “Oh, hi, Auntie Barbara . . . No, not yet . . . Yes, I will . . . Okay . . . You too.”

  Although they had heard only one side of the short conversation, no one needed to ask what had been said.

  “She’s not there.” Ree’s tear-filled eyes avoided the group.

  “As Sister pointed out, we could all probe a little deeper.”

  Mary Helen was relieved to hear Noelle’s crisp, businesslike voice taking charge.

  “And, she has added some important questions to our list,” Noelle continued. “Without any further ado, shall we adjourn this morning’s meeting and each begin that probing?” Her tone told the rest of the OWLs that her question was rhetorical. She had already flipped open her peacock-blue pocket calendar to May and was apparently scanning the month. “Our regular OWL meeting is this coming Thursday,” she announced, as though they didn’t know. “That gives us three days to unearth something.

  “Let us make every effort to keep each other informed, so there is no duplication of efforts.” Obviously she was still piqued about the unscheduled visit to Inspector Honore. “Shall we meet an hour before the large group assembles at ten-thirty?” Her blue eyes canvassed her listeners. “That should give us ample time to report and discuss our progress.”

  Frowning, Lucy scooted forward on her chair. “What about Ree and Al, here? They aren’t OWLs, but they are part of the group.”

  Al? . . . Al? For a moment, Mary Helen was stumped. She had almost forgotten that Mr. Finn’s name was Al.

  “Lucy has a point,” Noelle said, chewing her lower lip. From the look on the chairwoman’s face, Mary Helen had a sneaking suspicion that Noelle had been caught trying to pull a fast one!

  “Perhaps we could all meet here at Erma’s apartment at nine o’clock,” Caroline suggested. “That will give us a full hour and a half before our regular meeting.”

  “And there’s always the possibility that by then Erma will be back.” Lucy, ever the optimist, smiled wistfully. “I really do miss her! You know, we talked on the phone almost every morning. I wish she’d hurry back.”

  Almost as if she were afraid to let any emotions show, Caroline sniffed. “If wishes were horses,” she said aristocratically, “we would all be up to our knees in manure!”

  After a moment of shocked silence they all quickly agreed on the time and place of their next meeting. A little too quickly for Mary Helen’s taste. The group dispersed amicably but hastily.

  Watching them hurry out of the apartment, she couldn’t help but recall a wisp of a stanza from “The Ancient Mariner.”

  And having once turned round walks on,

  And turns no more his head;

  Because he knows a frightful fiend

  Doth close behind him tread.

  The “frightful fiend,” she was sure, was everyone’s fear.

  Mary Helen stepped out onto Sanchez Street. For a moment the glare of the sun on the cement blinded her.

  “Pst!” She turned.

  “Pst! Sister, here.” It was Mr. Finn just inside the door of his bistro.

  She followed him into the darkened restaurant. Cautiously he shut the door.

  “I didn’t want to say nothing up there in front of Ree,” he said, his eyes blinking nervously, “but I don’t think we should be looking too hard for Erma.”

  “Oh!” Mary Helen wondered what the man was leading up to.

  “Like I told you before, Erma don’t want to be found. Especially by her kids. Remember?”

  Mary Helen remembered. She also remembered Mr. Finn had said he was getting a little worried about Erma not calling. She mentioned it.

  “Yeah, I am.” He rocked on the soles of his feet. “She told me she’d call when she got settled. But like I said, she made me promise not to tell the kids where she was going. I feel bad I let the cat out of the bag.”

  “That seems so out of character for Erma.” Mary Helen was thinking out loud.

  Finn shrugged. “Yeah, in a way, the whole thing is, I guess. But, really, you can’t blame her. Those three are something else—always hanging around, eating her food, borrowing what little money she had. You know, Sister”—the yellow specks in his hazel eyes vibrated in disbelief—“that youngest kid even brings home his laundry.”

  Opening the door, Finn checked up and down the street. “I don’t want that Ree seeing me talking to you. Mum’s the word, Sister.” He nodded to indicate that the coast was clear. Quickly he closed the bistro door behind her, leaving Mary Helen with a sudden suspicion that maybe Erma had indeed called and Finn was just not telling.

  “Where in the name of God have you been? All of a sudden—poof!—you just disappeared.” Eileen was standing beside the convent car, which Mary Helen had parked at the foot of the steep Sanchez Street hill.

  Ree, whose polyester slacks looked as though t
hey might have shrunk a little in the dryer, leaned against the fender. “I’ve got to talk to you, Sister.” Her voice was agitated.

  “Do you want to talk here in the car, or shall we drive you home?”

  Ree shook her head. Her ponytail bounced from shoulder to shoulder. She sniffled. “I have to hurry. I don’t want him to see me.”

  “Him?”

  She pointed toward the bistro. “He’s the one, you know. If anything has happened to Mommy, he’s the one who’ll know about it”

  “First of all, we don’t know that anything has happened to your mother, Ree. And Mr. Finn seems like a nice fellow who is genuinely fond of her.” Although Mary Helen was well aware of the animosity between Ree and Al Finn, she hoped to interject some logic into the conversation.

  “Fond of her? You bet! He follows her around, always stopping in. And h-he”—the woman stuttered, looking for the right word—“leers at her. I’ve seen him leer. Yes, I swear, Sister, if Mommy left it’s because of him.”

  Mary Helen opened her mouth to speak, but Ree cut her off. “I’ve got to go before he sees me talking to you. He knows I know.” The woman shivered.

  Dumbfounded, Mary Helen watched Ree turn the corner and hurry down 18th Street toward Mission.

  “What do you make of that?” Eileen’s face wrinkled into a frown. “And, by the way, where were you?”

  “Mr. Finn stopped me,” Mary Helen said absently, once again not really knowing what to make of it herself. “He suggested Erma left to get away from her children.”

  Eileen shook her head. “And obviously Ree thinks he’s to blame. Neither idea makes much sense to me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “This whole disappearance business is so unlike Erma.” Eileen’s gray eyes were troubled. “God knows she is not the kind of person to run away from difficulties.”

  “Or complain about them,” Mary Helen added.

  “And she’s also not the kind anyone would want to harm. Right?”

  “Right. But the fact of the matter is, Eileen, that she has disappeared and someone must find out why,” Mary Helen said, feeling more frustrated than she had felt in a long time.

  * * *

  As soon as the pair arrived back at the convent, Mary Helen went straight to the phone. She dialed Inspector Honore at the Northern Station.

  “What can I do for you, Sister?” It may have been her imagination, but she thought he sounded a little short.

  Quickly she told him about her conversations with Mr. Finn and Ree. She deliberately omitted mentioning that the OWLs were doing a little probing on their own. She shuddered to think what he would say if he knew he was being helped.

  When she finished there was a long pause. Mary Helen heard the inspector’s gum pop several times, so she knew he was still on the line. She waited impatiently for the man to say something.

  “We’ll look into it, Sister,” he said finally but, in Mary Helen’s opinion, without much heart. “I’ll get back to you just as soon as I have something.”

  Mary Helen sat in the convent phone booth, a receiver in her hand. The impersonal hum infuriated her. After her brief conversation with Inspector Honore she felt even more frustrated than she had before, if such a thing were possible.

  Tuesday, May 15

  Feast of St. Isidore, Farmer

  The wail of an ambulance speeding down Turk Street filled Mary Helen’s small bedroom. Its insistent screech as it rounded the corner pierced through her sleep. She awoke with a feeling of urgency. Even in those fuzzy first moments of consciousness, she knew why. Erma! Erma was still missing and someone had to find her. Last night after talking to Inspector Honore, she realized that, as sure as the sun would rise, she had to be that someone.

  It only stood to reason, as anyone with an ounce of sense would agree. Why, she and Erma McSweeney Duran went back a long way and although they had kept in touch only on and off over the years, Mary Helen had really enjoyed getting reacquainted. Furthermore, Erma had spent the better part of her life looking after others, maybe even to a fault, trying to make them happy. Now it was high time someone looked after her.

  The sooner I get started the better, Mary Helen thought, swinging her feet out of her bed and onto the cold floor. She shivered. The carpetless convent floor was always cold, but this morning it was even colder. In fact her whole room felt chillier than usual. She listened for the low rumble of the central heating, but the room was strangely silent The furnace must be on the fritz.

  “The furnace is broken, Sisters. The furnace is broken.” Sister Therese’s quick footsteps echoing down the long corridor assured her that she was correct.

  Hand on her doorknob, Mary Helen braced herself. To encounter Therese on a Paul-Revere ride any time of day was difficult enough, but before morning coffee it was impossible. Mary Helen climbed back into bed, turned her electric blanket to six, pulled the covers up under her nose, and planned the day’s strategy.

  She knew Mr. Finn, didn’t have any love for the two Duran boys. She would go to see them first. She could get their addresses from Lucy Lyons. Ree Duran was suspicious of Finn, who she felt, as the old saying goes, “knew more than his prayers.” Next, she would drop by the bistro and have another talk with him. Finn was leery of Ree. She could go by and see Ree, but enough was enough for one day. Maybe tomorrow.

  At breakfast after the morning Mass, Mary Helen spotted Eileen. She moved across the Sisters’ dining room toward her friend, who was all bundled up and sitting near one of the windows. Both of Eileen’s hands were cupped around a coffee mug that said BREWED AWAKENING. It had been a gift from Lucy Lyons.

  “Aren’t you freezing, old dear?” Eileen moved her feet to where a beam of sun had settled on the parquet floor. “I’ll wager it’s warmer outside than in.” She nodded toward a glistening patch of grass already bright with morning sun.

  “Then let’s go out.” Mary Helen settled down in the chair across from her.

  “Out?” Eileen acted surprised. “Now, where would you suggest we go?”

  “You know very well what I’m getting at.” Mary Helen blew on her coffee.

  “Then you haven’t given up your determination to find out what has happened to Erma? I thought a good night’s sleep might have cleared your thinking.”

  “I have only become more determined!” Mary Helen banged her cup on the wooden tabletop as if to say Amen!

  Eileen rolled her eyes. “If such a thing is possible,” Mary Helen was almost sure she heard her say.

  Fortunately the convent’s Nova was free. Edging down the college driveway, Mary Helen passed Allan Boscacci coming up. His red Ferrari skidded on the turns. His jaw was set and he barely waved when they passed.

  “Therese must have awakened the poor fellow.” Eileen grimaced. “We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t drive him right out of his mind.”

  Mary Helen watched a service truck from Boscacci Electric follow the boss up the hill. “Or at least out of the Church,” she said.

  Stopping at the college gate, she waited for a break in the Turk Street traffic so she could turn left. On either side, stone eagles atop the pillars kept a sharp eye out against intruders.

  “Where are we going?”

  Mary Helen was surprised Eileen had waited so long to ask. On the other hand, hurried the way she had been, Eileen hadn’t had the chance. She handed over a scrap of paper with the addresses Lucy had given her.

  “Let’s start with Junior,” she said. “He works in a body shop on Divisadero.”

  * * *

  “Hey, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” A burly mechanic rolled out from under a car the minute Mary Helen pulled into the garage. “Lady, get that mother . . .” he shouted, then stopped abruptly.

  Even under several black smudges, his face reddened. Maybe he spotted the statue on our dashboard, or maybe our crosses gave us away, she thought, rolling down the window and smiling.

  “Excuse me, young man. We would like to speak wit
h Thomas Duran, if we may. We won’t take long, I promise. It’s about his mother.”

  “Thomas? You mean Junior?” He wiped his greasy hands on an equally greasy rag. “I didn’t know that ba . . .”—he hesitated—“that boy had a mother.

  “Hey, Junior,” he shouted toward the back of the shop. “Someone to see you.” Then, lowering himself onto a wooden square with wheels, the mechanic scooted back under a car.

  Junior Duran stuck his bearded face around the back doorjamb and peered cautiously into the garage. Mary Helen had the feeling that if the visitor turned out to be someone he didn’t want to see, he was already mounted on his motorcycle.

  Three other young men, looking for all the world like carbon copies of Junior, crowded behind him in the doorway. Puffing out his bare chest under a leather vest, Junior swaggered into the garage. The heels of his boots echoed on the oil-stained cement.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, thumbs looped over his thick belt. “You’re them nuns that were in my old lady’s apartment.” He smirked toward the other men, making sure, Mary Helen noticed, that his eyes never met hers. “This is kinda a long way from church, ain’t it?”

  Mary Helen recognized showing off when she heard it. There was no sense giving him more of an opportunity. She bent forward “It’s about your mother,” she said softly. “As you already know, we are very worried about her—as you must be too. I’m trying to piece together some of her actions the day she left. I understand you went to see her?”

  Junior’s dark eyes shifted toward the men in the doorway, then toward the mechanic who had disappeared under the car. “Let’s go outside,” he said, “where we can talk private.”

  Once outside, Mary Helen noticed a change come over the man. With some of the bravado gone, his whole face seemed to soften.

  “Yeah, I saw her that day.” Folding his tattooed arms, he leaned against the stucco front of the body shop.

  “I’m wondering what time that was. And did you notice if she was upset about anything?”

  Junior gave a crooked smile. “What are you, some kind of cop?”