Three Marys

by Glenn Cooper

  ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘Anyway, after closing time, Mary and her mates split up – the other girls live on estates in town – and Mary began walking home. It’s about a mile, isn’t it?’

  ‘I wonder if I might hear this from Mary?’ Murphy said.

  The girl sighed heavily and said, ‘Like my mum said, I was walking home on my own.’

  ‘You said goodbye to your friends. All of them girls?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘No boys about that night?’

  ‘I don’t actually know any boys,’ she said sarcastically.

  ‘Don’t be fresh,’ he father warned.

  She made a face at him and said, ‘In the pubs, sure, but not after.’

  ‘All right. What happened to you when you were walking home?’ Murphy asked.

  ‘I’ve told the story so many bloody times already!’

  Her father raised his hand from across the room. ‘Would you just answer the man’s questions? We’ll have a riot outside!’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘All’s I remember is that I’d just gone past the SuperValu Mart when I was, like, blinded by a super-bright light.’

  ‘What color was the light?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe white or yellow, I suppose. It hurt my eyes terrible.’

  ‘Had you seen anyone on the road before that moment?’

  ‘No. No one.’

  ‘Did you hear anything unusual?’

  ‘What, then?’

  ‘Yeah, when the light hit you.’

  ‘Not a thing.’

  ‘But you heard something later?’

  ‘I suppose it was later – just when I can’t say – but I heard, very distinctly, a bloke’s voice, a deep old voice saying, “You have been chosen.”’

  Murphy screwed up his face. ‘Now that’s a remarkable thing to hear, isn’t it?’

  Her mother answered. ‘It is indeed. Do you think it was the Lord’s voice, Father?’

  ‘I honestly couldn’t say,’ Murphy said. ‘After the light, and after the voice, what is it you remember next?’

  ‘That’s the thing. Nothing at all until I was walking down the Tubber Road closer to my house.’

  ‘And no one was about?’

  ‘Not a soul.’

  ‘How much time had elapsed?’

  ‘I looked at me phone when I got home. It was two in the morning or thereabouts.’

  ‘And what time did you leave the pub?’

  She wasn’t sure but her father said that it was a Saturday so closing time would have been around 12:30.

  ‘So, there’s up to a ninety-minute gap to account for,’ Murphy said. ‘When you got home did anyone see you?’

  ‘I woke up me mum when I came in.’

  Her mother nodded. ‘I like to sleep in this chair, on account of my breathing. I said to her, “What have you been up to, missy?” She looked a bit dazed. She didn’t have a clue. I scolded her for drinking too much and staying out late and she went to bed. Didn’t make much of it, really. Girls that age do mess about but Mary’s a good girl, Father, if you know what I mean. Imagine my surprise when later on her friend stopped coming and we found out she was pregnant. Especially what with her being a virgin and all.’

  ‘That night, Mary, could you describe how you felt when you found yourself on the Tubber Road?’

  ‘Felt? Confused, I’d say.’

  ‘Any pains anywhere? Any discomfort?’

  ‘Don’t recall.’

  ‘And just to be clear, had you messed about with any lads that night?’

  She became animated for the first time. ‘No!’

  ‘She’s never had no relations, Father,’ her mother said. ‘All the doctors and nurses have said so.’ Then she whispered, as if the girl couldn’t hear her perfectly well, ‘She was intact down there, they said.’

  ‘Mary, this is quite important,’ Murphy said. ‘Can you confirm to me that you’ve never slept with a boy.’

  ‘No, never,’ she said quietly, avoiding eye contact. ‘I think I’d remember that, don’t you think? You remember your first time, don’t you, Father?’

  Her mother giggled but Kenny Riordan yelled at her for being fresh again.

  Murphy regrouped. ‘Do you know what I mean when I use the word ejaculate?’

  She smirked and nodded.

  ‘Did a boy ever ejaculate on you or your clothes?’

  ‘Father, what a question!’ her mother said, lighting another cigarette.

  ‘No, never,’ Mary said.

  Murphy clicked his pen. ‘Very well, are you a religious girl?’

  ‘How do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, do you go to church? Do you pray on your own?’

  ‘We don’t go to church, really.’

  ‘Well, that’s not true,’ her father said defensively. ‘Didn’t we go to midnight Mass a Christmas or three ago, mother?’

  Canon McCarthy felt the need to say, ‘Kenny Riordan, I don’t recall a single time I’ve ever seen you or your family inside my church.’

  ‘Well, you’re a busy man at Christmas, Father, and we were probably at the rear.’

  ‘What about prayer?’ Murphy asked the girl.

  ‘I pray sometimes, I suppose. Lately.’

  ‘And whom do you pray to?’

  She said it so softly Murphy almost didn’t hear it. ‘The Virgin Mary.’

  Kenny Riordan began weaving when he hit the night air, the victim of his local celebrity; these days fellows bought him pints without expecting him to reciprocate. Even though it was summer, there was a touch of a chill so he buttoned his tweed sports coat over his gut.

  He hadn’t walked more than half a block when he heard, ‘Is that Mr Kenny Riordan?’

  Wheeling around unsteadily he saw two men under a street light. Not young, not old, they wore motorcycle jackets. One tossed down a glowing cigarette stub.

  ‘It is. Do I know you gents?’ It was true. He didn’t know them but he’d seen them at some of his watering holes from time to time.

  ‘We know who you are, Kenny. What do you say we buy you a drink?’

  ‘Well, I’ve had a skin-full tonight, lads, but I appreciate the offer.’

  The second man was more direct. ‘I’ve got something in my jacket that I’d like to show you. Come on over here.’

  Riordan swallowed as the man undid a zipper. He half expected to see a pistol in his hand but in the glow of the lamplight he saw something else. An envelope. Curious, he weaved toward them.

  ‘It’s a thick old boy, isn’t it?’ the man said. ‘Guess how much cash it is?’

  ‘Wouldn’t have a clue, son.’

  ‘Hundred euro notes. Hundred of them. Interested?’

  Once the priests had left that afternoon, Riordan had kept his door open into the evening, clearing all of three hundred euros from the punters. Plenty of selfies and photos but he hadn’t shifted a single lock of hair. Ten grand sounded, well, exceedingly grand.

  ‘Does a bear shit in the woods?’

  ‘We’ll take that as a yes,’ the first man said. ‘Want that drink now?’

  ‘I couldn’t believe my ears when you called last night. You might have told me you were coming to Galway.’

  Murphy’s mother looked well, he thought. A little grayer, perhaps, a little thinner, but not so different from when he’d seen her last.

  ‘It was a last-minute type of thing. I had to come on business.’

  ‘What sort of business?’ she asked, starting the tea.

  ‘Church business.’

  ‘You’re sounding awfully enigmatic. Church business! You’re a lecturer these days.’

  ‘Mary Riordan, if you must know.’

  ‘Whatever does a university lecturer have to do with Mary Riordan?’

  He explained how he had come to be recruited. Then she was all ears, wanting to know as much about the affair as he’d tell her. But she was disappointed. Apparently, he hadn’t learned much more than what was already in the papers and supermarket g
ossip.

  ‘I expect the Vatican hasn’t the choice but to investigate this kind of business but I’ll tell you what I think,’ she said, offering up some biscuits.

  ‘And what would that be?’

  ‘I think she got knocked up the old-fashioned way.’

  ‘The doctors say otherwise.’

  ‘Local doctors. Lot of good they did for your pa.’

  ‘A tractor rolled on to him. What could they do?’

  ‘He was alive when he got to hospital. Don’t forget that.’

  Murphy didn’t fight her. ‘Well, anyway, it wasn’t just the local quack, Mum. They bought in a consultant gynecologist from Dublin to look over her case.’

  She dismissed him with a wave. ‘Don’t be surprised if the baby resembles the boy who sits behind her in geography class.’

  ‘Well, we’ll see about that in about two months.’

  They talked for a while about brothers and sisters, nieces and nephews, two of them born since the last time he’d been in the country.

  ‘Won’t you go pay a visit?’

  ‘I’ve got to go back to Boston in the morning.’

  ‘I do wish you’d reconcile with them. You’re not the oldest but you’re the wisest. They could do with you in their lives.’

  ‘Next time, perhaps. When I’m here longer.’

  When he left her it was with a hug and a kiss and some tears in her eyes. Outside the quiet cul-de-sac, two Honda motorcycles were on their stands. The riders had their helmets off, straddling the bikes. They dismounted and approached him before he could reach his rental.

  ‘A minute of your time, Father,’ one of them said pleasantly enough while the other stared coldly.

  ‘Yes, what is it you want?’

  ‘You’ve been making some inquiries concerning Mary Riordan.’

  Murphy glanced back at the house to see if his mother was looking out the window. The lace curtains were closed. ‘And what business of yours is it?’

  The question was ignored. ‘You may be from here but you’re not one of us anymore.’

  ‘Is that so?’ Murphy said.

  ‘It is and we don’t want outsiders meddling. Do you understand what I’m saying?’

  Murphy kept his eyes on the quiet one, motionless like an obedient hound awaiting a command. He’d never been on the receiving end of violence. Surely his clerical collar would be a shield, but what if it wasn’t? He suddenly wished he’d taken up Cal’s offer to teach him to box.

  ‘And how exactly am I meddling? There are those within the Church who are concerned about the girl and want to ensure her wellbeing.’

  ‘We’re not here to debate you, Father. We want outsiders such as yourself to give the girl and her family a wide berth. May I ask when you’re leaving Galway?’

  ‘May I ask you who sent you lads?’

  ‘I’ll say this directly, Father Murphy. Stay away from the Riordans or you’ll be sorry. By the way, lovely house your mum’s got. We weren’t aware she lived here until this very day.’

  SEVEN

  ‘Come on in, Joe.’

  Cal was in his office at the Divinity School, catching up on a tall stack of mail, journals, and inter-office memos. When Murphy plunked down in a chair Cal took one look at him, got up, and poured him some coffee.

  ‘Appreciate it,’ the priest said.

  ‘You look like shit,’ Cal observed.

  ‘And you don’t?’

  They got the conversation about the ravages of jet lag off their chests and began comparing notes on the three girls. They were going to be Skyping with the Vatican in half an hour so they tried to keep the debriefing tight, but Cal couldn’t get over the incident at Murphy’s mother’s house.

  ‘What do you think was behind this?’

  ‘Haven’t a clue. It seemed to be something more than locals circling the wagons to protect a member of the clan. I mentioned the incident to Canon McCarthy and he was likewise baffled.’

  ‘Who were they? Did you find out?’

  Murphy shook his head. ‘I asked around but I didn’t have names, so no.’

  ‘Did you call the police?’

  ‘I didn’t. There wasn’t really a specific threat, just some free-floating menace and a surfeit of testosterone. To be honest I was more interested in coming home than launching an investigation.’

  Cal’s computer announced an incoming Skype call. Cardinal Da Silva and Sister Elisabetta waved and smiled from an ornate office. Da Silva must have had some formal business to conduct because they were in the secretary of state’s office in the Apostolic Palace rather than his guesthouse office space.

  ‘You haven’t met Father Joseph Murphy,’ Cal said.

  Murphy said hello and Sister Elisabetta was quick to thank him for his assistance.

  ‘So, Cal,’ Da Silva said, ‘we are anxious to hear your opinions about the girls.’

  ‘Of course, but have you heard anything about Maria Mollo?’

  ‘Unfortunately, nothing,’ the cardinal said. ‘We’re told the parents haven’t heard from her yet. The Peruvian police were notified and we believe they are conducting an investigation but we have no further information. It is a deeply troubling situation.’

  ‘What about the others?’ Cal asked. ‘Do their parents and local authorities know what happened in Peru?’

  Elisabetta said, ‘We immediately contacted the parish priests in Manila and Gort to inform them about the situation in Lima.’

  ‘What did you tell them?’ Cal asked.

  ‘To be on the lookout for anyone who offers money or any other inducements to take the girls and to be aware that the Vatican is not behind any such actions.’

  Cal expressed his approval and referred to the list of talking points he had hurriedly drawn up while conferring with Murphy.

  ‘OK. So, here’s the story. Joe and I have compared notes, and the similarities among the three girls is striking, to say the least. First and most obvious is their names. Second, and equally obvious, they’re all Catholic. Third, they are about the same ages. Mary Riordan is seventeen now but was sixteen at the time of the incident, as was Maria Aquino. Maria Mollo is fifteen. Fourth, they’re all from poor, uneducated families. Fifth, they all disappeared at nighttime, walking alone on quiet roads. Sixth, on the nights in question, they all have vivid memories of a bright, blinding light and then hearing a disembodied male voice telling them that they had been chosen. Then nothing further until an hour or more later when they wake up – I’ll put that in quotes – and find themselves walking again, nearer to their destinations. Seventh, when found to be pregnant, all of them had virginal hymens. This seems to be backed up by photographic evidence. The girls all say that they have never had sex of any kind. I’ve got to stress here that I can’t vouch for the medical aspects of their cases.’

  Elisabetta said, ‘Sorry to interrupt but we have had a top gynecologist in Rome review the medical evidence and she tells us in her report that with the proviso that she has had to rely on the examinations of others, the hymens of the girls are absolutely incompatible with sexual relations. Furthermore, regarding the questions raised by the media and others about artificial insemination, our consultant tells us that the procedure can only be performed by inserting a speculum as one would do in a pelvic examination. That would tear the hymen in the same way that sexual relations would. And by the way, she has reviewed the sonograms and also confirms that all three babies are male. Please continue.’

  ‘Eighth, when the estimated dates of conception were calculated based on the timing of the missed periods and the size of the fetuses on sonograms, there is, as I understand it, a high degree of confidence that conception occurred the nights that the girls saw the lights and had the unexplained time lapse.’

  ‘Our gynecologist says the same thing,’ Elisabetta added.

  ‘Ninth, the three events described by the girls occurred within two weeks of one another. Mary Riordan was the first, followed seven days later by Maria Aquino, fol
lowed five days later by Maria Mollo. Tenth, the parents of the girls have all, in one way or another, cashed in on the phenomena. I can’t say as I really blame them. These are once-in-a-lifetime opportunities to lift them out of poverty.’

  The cardinal leaned into the camera. ‘Is there any possibility that these three families have had contact with one another before or after the pregnancies occurred? Could there be some collusion to pump up the noise, as they say?’

  ‘The two families I visited don’t even have telephones. They’re dirt poor and very unsophisticated. I’d put the chances at zero. Joe?’

  ‘Well, Ireland isn’t the Third World, you know, but I don’t think that the Riordans could put pins in a map locating Peru or the Philippines, let alone figure out how to contact someone in these places. I’d agree with Cal.’

  ‘Finally,’ Cal said, ‘with regard to the veracity of the girls’ statements – and here I had to rely on the local priests in Lima since I couldn’t see Maria Mollo – we believe the girls are telling the truth about what happened to them the nights in question and about their lack of sexual experience. They do not appear to be deceitful or devious.’

  ‘So, where does that leave us?’ Da Silva asked. ‘Give us your opinions.’

  Cal tapped Murphy on the shoulder and said, ‘I think a good place to start is with the Bible. I asked Joe to dip into the New Testament to find biblical parallels to our modern Marys. Joe?’

  ‘Well, the Gospel of Luke is where most of the action lies,’ Murphy said. ‘It’s Luke who tells us that the angel Gabriel comes to Mary to inform her of her chosen status by telling her, “Hail, favored one! The Lord is with you.” Luke tells us that she was greatly troubled at what was said and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. Then the angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. Behold, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you shall name him Jesus. He will be great and will be called Son of the Most High,” etcetera, etcetera. Now we come to this bit: “But Mary said to the angel, ‘How can this be, since I have no relations with a man?’ And the angel said to her in reply, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. Therefore the child to be born will be called holy, the Son of God.’” Now, there’s nothing in Luke or anywhere else about how Gabriel appeared to Mary – certainly nothing about a bright light – nor is there any description whatsoever in the scriptures of the moment the Holy Spirit came to her. Having said that, one might conceivably see some biblical parallels in the testimonies of our present-day Marys. Moving on, Cal also asked me to research the biblical references to the Virgin Mary’s age. In short, there are none. Most biblical scholars make reference to the usual age of betrothal under Jewish law at that time in history. Jewish custom was that marriage before the age of twelve was not allowed and brides were generally no older than fifteen. So, our modern Marys are near this range. All right then, that’s my bit.’