The Mother's Day Murder

by Lee Harris

  “Yes, if you want to go to early mass.”

  “Sure, why not? We’ll all drive over there together.”

  We made it an early night.

  I woke up once during the night, thinking I heard something. I put on my robe and checked Eddie, who was sleeping soundly. I stopped at Tina’s door, but there was no sound. I went back to bed.

  We were both awakened a long time later by what sounded like a distant scream.

  “What now?” Jack said irritably. He got out of bed, went to the window, and looked out. There was, of course, nothing to see, as our bedroom was tacked onto the back of the house. He left the room and came back a minute later. “Something doing down the street, near the Grosses’.”

  “Mel’s house?” I scrambled out of bed and put on my robe. I went downstairs and opened the front door. Something was definitely happening down the block and as I stood there, I heard a siren.

  “Can you tell what’s going on?” Jack asked behind me. He had thrown on some clothes.

  “There are some people standing in the street. That’s all I can see. But they must have called the police or an ambulance.”

  “I heard the siren. I’ll run down and see what’s doing.”

  I went upstairs, listened at both closed doors, then put on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The morning air was cool and I wanted to dash down and see what was happening for myself. Eddie would probably sleep another fifteen or twenty minutes and I wasn’t going far.

  I jogged down the block to where the Kovaks and Greiners had been shouting at each other a couple of days earlier. The small group had grown and the police car had arrived, then a second one. Jack turned and saw me.

  “You don’t want to look at this,” he said.

  “What is it?”

  “Did you check Tina’s room?”

  “The door is closed. She’s still asleep.”

  “She’s dead, Chris.”

  “What?” I felt a wave of dizziness.

  “I can’t see the face, but it’s her habit. It looks like she’s been shot.”

  “I can’t believe it. How—?”

  “Go on back. Check her room. I’ll stay here.”

  As I turned to go, two things struck me. Mel and Hal were coming out of their house, and the silver maple was lying across the Kovaks’ driveway. Mel asked me what happened and I told her in breathless half sentences.

  “Take it easy, Chris.”

  “She’s my guest,” I said. “She’s staying at my house. How can this have happened?”

  “Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

  We went to my house and Mel came upstairs with me. I was shaking as I knocked at Tina’s door, not believing she wasn’t in there. When there was no answer, I opened the door. The bed was empty and unmade. Her duffle bag was on the desk chair, stuffed, ready to be zipped up.

  “She’s gone,” I said.

  “She left the door closed so you wouldn’t know she had left her room.”

  “Maybe.” I felt panicky. This could not have happened. My heart was racing and my mind was a jumble.

  “Come on down, Chris. We’ll have some coffee. Maybe Jack’ll have some answers.”

  I let Mel make coffee while I sat thinking that this was all wrong. This was my home and I had lost all control. My guest was dead down the street, my friend was making coffee in my kitchen. I felt weak and powerless and confused.

  Mel poured and I sipped from my cup. A moment later, I heard Eddie. It was one of those moments when I felt the weight of motherhood. It didn’t matter whether you were sick or well, whether Tina was dead or alive, your child needed you and you went.

  “I’ll get him,” Mel said.

  “It’s OK. I will.”

  I went upstairs, took him out of his crib, and held him close to me. The warmth of his body, the sweet smell of his skin, began to calm me. The panic began to drain.

  “Go bekfast,” Eddie said.

  “Yes, let’s go down to breakfast. Mel is here, Eddie.”

  “Mel,” he said, the l coming out in something between a y and a w.

  We got his breakfast together and I sat sipping my coffee and watching him until I heard the door open. I went to see Jack before he came into the kitchen.

  “This is off the wall,” he said.

  “Is it Tina?”

  “Looks like her to me.”

  “Oh, Jack.”

  He hugged me. “You gonna be OK?”

  “Sure. Eddie’s having breakfast. Mel’s with him. What can you tell me?”

  “Someone chopped down the tree between the Greiners and the Kovaks.”

  “I saw it.”

  “And somebody shot Tina.”

  “Do the police have Mr. Kovak’s gun?”

  “Afraid not. Kovak says it’s been lost for months.”

  “What?”

  “He says he reported it lost or stolen, but there’s no record of the report. The cop radioed the station and they checked it.”

  “This is crazy. What was Tina doing there in the first place? Who would want to kill her? Why did she leave the house?”

  “All good questions. Did you check her room?”

  “The door was closed. Her duffle bag was already packed and ready to be zipped up. She left her bed unmade, as though she intended to come back. She’s a neat girl. When I walked by her room yesterday, it looked like a convent room, everything in its place.”

  “The door was open when you went by?”

  “Yes.”

  “So when she left in the middle of the night and closed the door, it was so you would think she was still there.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Let’s not leave poor Mel alone with Eddie in the kitchen.”

  “Poor Mel” was coping exactly the way she always did, joking around with Eddie, who had by now finished his breakfast and drunk his milk. He ran to Jack who picked him up and talked to him. I looked at my watch and realized I didn’t have to hurry for early mass. I wasn’t going to St. Stephen’s this morning.

  I walked to the door with Mel, telling her what Jack had just told me.

  “His gun is lost?” she said with disbelief.

  “That’s what he told the cop.”

  “I don’t like this. I think there’s a good chance that man shot Tina.”

  “But why? He didn’t know her.”

  “She chopped down the tree.”

  “But Mel, he wanted the tree chopped down. And it’s crazy to think that Tina would do that.”

  “You’re right. It’s the Greiners who loved the tree. My head isn’t functioning very well this morning.”

  “Join the crowd. Maybe he chopped down the tree and Tina saw him do it.”

  “That makes sense. What do you think she was doing walking down the block early in the morning?”

  “She’s used to getting up early,” I said. “Five o’clock is wake-up time at the convent. Maybe she got up, got dressed, and went outside to say her morning prayers. And then took a walk.”

  “And he was out there chopping down the tree and didn’t want any witnesses.”

  “Did you hear a gunshot?”

  “I don’t know. I was sleeping till I heard the police siren. I could have heard a shot in my sleep and thought it was part of a dream.”

  “I hate this,” I said. “I’m going to have to call St. Stephen’s now and tell them. Mel, if Mr. Kovak is lying about losing the gun, he has to know he’s a suspect. This girl was shot in front of his house and he’s on record as owning a gun. The police can get a warrant and search his house. He really has to be irrational to think he can get away with this.”

  “Then maybe he didn’t do it.”

  “But if he didn’t—”

  “I know. I have a feeling you’re going to be spending a lot of time in the next few days thinking about this.”

  “And other things,” I said, remembering Tina’s story. “That poor girl.”

  Mel gave me a hug. “I’ve got a hungry f
amily waiting for bagels and lox. I gotta go.”

  “Thanks for coming down.”

  “Keep me posted,” she said, and off she went.

  We had breakfast and then went off to mass. I hadn’t called St. Stephen’s yet but I wanted to do that when I came home from church. Church always put me in a calmer mood and when we got home there would be a day of questions and answers with the local police in addition to my call to the convent.

  The police car was waiting at the curb and Officer Malcolm got out as we pulled into the drive. He came inside with us.

  “We have no ID on the body,” he said.

  “I would appreciate it if we could not talk about this in front of my son,” I said. “I haven’t called the convent yet but I’m going to do that right now.”

  “Maybe you can get someone to come down and ID her.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “Oh, and happy Mother’s Day, Mrs. Brooks.”

  I stared at him. It was Mother’s Day. Tina had died on Mother’s Day. “Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  I left Eddie with Jack and went upstairs to our bedroom where I would not be overheard. Whoever’s daughter Tina was, there would be no happy Mother’s Days for the rest of her life. I dearly did not want to make this call. I sat on the edge of our bed looking at the phone, thinking of the anguish I was about to inflict on a whole string of individuals who had known, worked with, loved, and cared about Tina. Finally, I picked up the phone and dialed St. Stephen’s.

  The phone was not answered by Angela. It was Sunday and she had the day off. I didn’t recognize the voice but I asked for Sister Joseph and she put me through without getting my name.

  It took a few minutes for them to locate Joseph, but finally she picked up.

  “This is Chris,” I said.

  “Chris. Are you all right? You don’t sound your usual self.”

  “Joseph, I have something terrible to tell you.”

  “Has something happened to your family?” She sounded genuinely distressed.

  “No, they’re fine. It’s a novice named Tina Richmond.”

  “Tina. She’s gone home to visit her family. How do you come to know her?”

  “She came here to Oakwood. She came to see me. Joseph, she’s been murdered.”

  There were seconds of silence. I could imagine her trying to absorb what I had said as I had tried to only a couple of hours earlier. “Tina is dead?”

  “Yes. She was shot. It happened down the block from us sometime early this morning. I’m not sure when. Joseph, I have to ask you or one of the other nuns to come down here and identify her.”

  “I’ll come, of course.” There was another short silence. She would be looking at the large round watch, figuring how long it would take her to get here, how soon she could leave, whether to take someone with her. “I’ll leave in ten minutes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Joseph, if you’d like to stay overnight—you could bring a bag.”

  “I’ll do that, just in case this takes a long time.”

  “I’m terribly sorry.”

  “I’ll see you soon.”

  I hung up, feeling a little better and a little worse. I had gotten it over with. The phone call, at least, was behind me. But what was coming was a lot worse. I had no choice now. I had to talk to Joseph about Tina’s birth and I would rather spend the next week in solitary confinement than do that.

  I left our bedroom and went to the one Tina had stayed in. I knew the police would go through it very shortly and I wanted to take a look myself before they removed everything that Tina had brought.

  The duffle bag was on the chair and I moved things around inside, looking for anything that wasn’t clothing. I felt mostly soft fabric. There were secular clothes in there, toiletries, and a towel. I smoothed the clothes and left the bag as I had found it.

  There was nothing on the bed, nothing left in the closet. She must have packed her nightgown before she left the house. I looked around and saw her black leather handbag on the night table. It was envelope style, a flap that folded over the top and latched with a clasp that went through a slot and then turned. The flap was closed, but the clasp hadn’t been turned. I opened the bag and looked inside. There was a wallet with a few dollars in it, not enough, I thought, to pay for the train back to St. Stephen’s, a Social Security card, and a telephone card with a number that I assumed made her calls home collect. There were two ballpoint pens, a little book for taking notes, and several clean tissues folded. I took out the notebook and opened it. Every page was blank. I dug to the bottom of the bag and felt a key ring. It had several keys on it, one that looked like a house key, one that was probably a car key, and a couple of others. There was a newspaper clipping with a picture of her parents, Anne and Herbert Richmond, at a charity dinner. They looked like pleasant people in their forties or so, and since I’m terrible at family resemblances, I saw none between them and their daughter.

  Aside from those few things, I found a paper clip and a couple of safety pins. I put them all back, replaced the flap as I had found it, and went downstairs to get things started.

  8

  “Which of you would like to go first?” Officer Malcolm asked when I joined them.

  “Why don’t you, Chris? I’ll take Eddie outside. You spent a lot more time with Tina than I did.”

  That was certainly true. I waited till he and Eddie had gone out, then turned to the young man in uniform. “What would you like to know?” I asked.

  “I’d like to get your recollections while they’re still fresh. A detective may come by later but I want to know when you last saw the deceased.”

  “Last night,” I said. “We all had dinner together and she went upstairs before we did.”

  “Did you hear anything during the night?”

  “I thought I did. I got out of bed, checked my son, and saw that Tina’s door was closed. I didn’t look inside. The door was still closed this morning when they found her body.”

  “So she could have left at any time.”

  “Yes.”

  “Is she a friend of yours? A relative?”

  “I never saw her before Thursday when she turned up on my doorstep.”

  “Can you tell me about that?”

  I told him of my connection to St. Stephen’s and of Tina’s. I didn’t say a word about Joseph or about Tina’s crazy story.

  “Did she tell you why she wanted to see you?”

  “She was having problems. She’d heard of me and I guess she found my address at the convent. She wanted to talk to me and find some resolution for her troubles.”

  “What were these problems, Mrs. Brooks?”

  I took a deep breath. It was rare that I was on this end of an interview in a homicide. When I asked questions, I expected to be given answers, complete answers. Now I was the one holding back and I knew he would not be happy. “They were very personal. I really can’t talk about them. I’m sorry.”

  “We need to know as much as possible to find the killer,” he said calmly.

  “I know you do, and I’ll help you in any way I can. But she described something that is little more than a fantasy and it involves other people. I can’t discuss it.”

  “Do you happen to know where we can find her family?”

  I felt relieved that he didn’t press me. Probably when they brought the detectives in, I’d have a harder time, but for the moment we were moving on to simpler questions. “I do. Tina gave me the names and address of her parents. I’ll get it for you.” I got up and found my notebook.

  He copied from it into his. “Have you spoken to them?”

  “No. I called the Superior at St. Stephen’s, the convent where Tina was a novice. She’s on her way down here now to identify the body.”

  “Any idea how long it’ll take for her to get here?”

  “Less than two hours. Do you know where they’ve taken Tina?”

  “To the local hospital. We can drive over whe
n the Superior comes.”

  “OK.”

  “So you don’t really know anything about this girl.”

  “Very little. She rang my doorbell and introduced herself. I told her she could stay a few days, but no longer than that. She said she’d go back to the convent today.”

  “You have any idea why she might have been out early in the morning?”

  I told him what I had told Mel, that she might have said her morning prayers outside and then gone for a walk. “Do you have any idea how long she was dead before she was found?” I asked.

  “No idea at all.”

  Not that he would have told me if he did know. “I don’t know what else I can tell you. She left her bed unmade so I assume she intended to come back and make it. We were going to go to early mass this morning and then I was going to drive her back to the convent.”

  “That’s a long trip for you, almost two hours each way.”

  “By train it’s longer and you have to change. I didn’t mind and she was happy that I offered.”

  “I guess that’s it. I’d appreciate it if you’d leave her room as she left it. The crime-scene detectives will want to have a look at it. If you decide to tell us anything else, you know where to find us.”

  We went outside together and Jack and I traded places. I was sure the officer wanted to make certain we didn’t exchange any remarks. I didn’t think Jack would tell him about the Joseph story, which was the only thing I cared about. I took Eddie back inside and upstairs to change his clothes into something he could run around in. We had just come home from church and weren’t wearing our running-around clothes.

  Officer Malcolm didn’t spend much time with Jack, either. By the time Eddie and I had changed and were out back, Jack joined us. I heard the police car leave a moment later.

  “I refused to tell him what Tina’s problem was,” I said, not asking.

  “I told him anything I knew was secondhand and if he didn’t get it from you, I didn’t think I should say anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Is Sister Joseph coming?”

  “She’s on her way. I suggested she bring an overnight bag in case she wants to stay. The only problem is, she’d have to stay in the room Tina used.”

  “I’ll get her a room at the motel. She won’t mind that, will she?”