by Glenn Cooper
‘Careful, now,’ Sue said nervously.
‘Being pregnant hasn’t made me spastic,’ Mary said.
The horses bucked and frolicked with one another for fifteen minutes while the girls laughed and pointed. It was getting close to suppertime and Sue had to get them washed-up so she called time on the proceedings. Pedro looped the mares to the fence before leading the stallion inside first, Maria Mollo following along. Maria Aquino’s horse lowered its head so the girl could stroke its cheek and Mary reached down from her perch to stroke the pinto.
‘You don’t want to go back in, do you, Sally?’ she said.
She took the whinny as a no.
Pedro returned for the next horse and Mary begged him to take the tawny mare first. Maria Aquino and Mrs Simpauco followed.
Sue was pumping the foreman for any info he had on the steel building when Mary reached into the pocket of her shorts and fed her horse a piece of carrot that she’d reserved. While the horse munched, Mary unlooped the bridle, stood on the second-to-last rung of the fence, and swung her leg over Sally’s broad back.
‘C’mon, girl, let’s get out of here.’
She held the reins tightly, kicked Sally’s flanks with her sneakers and the horse took off through the open gate.
‘Mary!’ Sue screamed. ‘Come back!’
The foreman shouted in Spanish for Pedro to bring a horse fast and the small man flew outside with the tawny mare. The Marias ran after him and stood beside the paddock pointing at the cloud of dust that was Mary and her horse. The foreman ripped the reins from Pedro’s hand, leapt into the air and pulled himself by the mane on to the horse’s back.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll get her,’ he shouted, racing out of the paddock.
‘She’s pregnant!’ Sue screamed after him.
‘Believe me, I know, señora.’
Mary was a good rider but hanging on to a galloping horse bareback wasn’t easy. She bounced around and slipped to the left and the right, pinching her knees into its smooth flanks as best she could. She wasn’t just blindly flying off into the prairie. She had a plan and she steered the horse toward the steel structure crawling with construction workers. She would tell them who she was and that she’d been kidnapped. She’d plead with them to call the police. She’d—
An arm reached out and grabbed the bridle by the cheek piece. Sally began to slow down. When Mary turned toward the foreman, she began to slide off. The foreman had to let go of the bridle to reach around her waist and as he did, Sally took off again.
The foreman was strong and he held her up against his mare even with her horse long gone. The tawny mare came to a halt with a verbal command and the foreman lowered the girl to the ground as gently as he could.
He dismounted and waved at Sue who was running toward them.
‘Where were you going, Miss Mary?’ he asked.
She was out of breath. ‘I was trying to escape.’
‘Why? Everyone here loves the little virgins.’
‘Is that what you call us?’
‘Yes, señorita. Will you come back with me?’
‘What about Sally?’
‘Oh, she’ll come back on her own. Can I tell you something, Miss Mary?’
She nodded.
‘You ride bareback real good.’
After supper Torres raged at Sue and the foreman and declared the stables off limits. The foreman was sufficiently scared by her ferocity that he kept his mouth shut and mainly stared at the floor, but Sue did her best to argue that with sufficient safeguards, working with horses was exactly what Mary Riordan needed to settle into life at the ranch.
Faced with a determined no, Sue asked whether she could appeal the decision to a higher authority. Torres imperiously informed her that as far as Sue was concerned, there was no one higher. With that, she turned her back and left the two alone in the staff room.
‘Miss Sue, it’s not my place,’ the foreman said, ‘but I agree with you. That girl loves horses and I think they love her too.’
After supper, the girls played in their lounge while Lily the bulldog frolicked. Mary was cross-legged on an overstuffed chair fiddling with her phone and the Marias were on the carpet, trying to keep Lily away from a half-done jigsaw puzzle. While Maria Mollo bent over searching for a piece, Maria Aquino, the smaller of the two, climbed on her back like a horseback rider. The Peruvian girl immediately got the joke and began simulating a bucking horse.
‘Me Mary, me Mary,’ the Filipino shouted to which the other Maria replied, ‘I go, I go.’ The two of them harvesting all the fruits of their first English lessons.
Mary looked on, po-faced at first, as they dissolved into hysterics, falling off one another and rolling about on the floor. But soon Mary was laughing too and hurling cushions at them.
When Sue came upstairs to look in on them she saw the makings of a good old-fashioned pillow fight. She quietly backed away and closed the door, letting the girls carry on being kids.
FOURTEEN
Joe Murphy lived in a sparse studio apartment in a house near Central Square. It suited him fine. It was marginally nicer than his rectory accommodations in Galway and he could walk to Harvard, rain, snow, or shine. His salary as an entry-level junior faculty member at the university was fairly modest but it was considerably more money than he’d made as a parish priest or as Cal’s teaching assistant. The only luxury he afforded himself was buying the books he fancied rather than signing them out of the library. Any surplus funds were earmarked for his mother back home and a small trust fund for nieces and nephews.
It was a hot August morning and his window-box air conditioner was humming. His plans for the day were simple and pleasant. He’d finish his coffee, dress in his summer-weight clerical clothes, and stroll to the Widener Library in Harvard Yard to continue taking notes for his next book, an exploration of the medieval Church in Ireland. He’d taken Cal’s advice to heart that the only way to achieve academic security was to publish, publish, and publish some more. Being a popular lecturer – and so far, Murphy was well-liked by students – was only icing on the cake.
He was dreamily streaming classical music from his computer to a Bluetooth speaker when his phone rang, showing a blocked number. He thought about letting it ring through to voicemail but he couldn’t remember the last time someone called this way so he answered.
It was a woman. ‘Excuse me, am I speaking with Father Murphy?’
‘You are. Who is this?’
‘This is Cindy Riordan, Mary’s mother.’
Murphy put his coffee mug down so quickly that he spilled a little. He asked how he could help her.
‘I’ve been worried sick about Mary.’
‘Well, that’s understandable,’ he said.
‘Do you know where she is?’
Cal had told him about the Benedict report. ‘I don’t, no,’ he said. ‘But there’s an indication that she’s with the other two girls who are in the same way.’
‘I know that,’ she replied. ‘I’ve spoken with her.’
‘Is that so?’
‘They delivered this phone to me so she could call.’
‘Then you likely know more than I do. What did she tell you?’
‘That she was in a grand house somewhere that was very hot with the Maria girls and she was being well looked after.’
‘Well that’s a relief, isn’t it? She didn’t mention where she was?’
‘She says she had no idea. She’s cut off, I’d say.’
‘Is there something you’d like me to do for you, Mrs Riordan?’
‘There is, Father, but I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Maybe I’m paranoid but I feel someone might be listening. Do you think you could come round?’
‘I’m back in America, you know.’
He heard her tutting before saying, ‘Oh my, I’d no idea. I don’t know what to say. It’s terribly important. I’ve no one else I can talk to.’
‘What about Canon McCarthy?’
&n
bsp; ‘Don’t like him. He’s a cold fish. Don’t trust him like I trust you.’
Murphy tried to get more out of her, finally asking, ‘Look, you need to tell me more if I’m going to be getting on an airplane.’
‘I’ll tell you this, Father: I’ve done something terrible, truly terrible, and I need to make it right. I’m begging you to come.’
Later that morning Murphy called in on Cal at his Divinity Avenue office to tell him about the phone call.
‘What do you think’s going on?’ Cal asked.
‘I really don’t know. The woman sounded quite emotional. I doubt it’s a trivial thing.’
‘What do you want to do?’
‘What I want to do and what I’m obliged to do are two different matters,’ the priest said.
‘It’s got to be your call, Joe, but if you want to make the trip let me see if I can get the Vatican to spring for the airfare.’
Murphy said, ‘That would be most appreciated.’
Murphy’s plan was to get in and get out quickly, spending a single night in Galway before flying back to Boston and his research. He hired a car at Shannon and arrived at the Riordan house well before noon. When no one responded to the knocker he leaned on the buzzer until he heard a stirring through the door.
Kenny Riordan appeared in his undershorts, glassy-eyed and smelling like a brewery.
‘Father Murphy. This is unexpected.’
‘I’m sorry if I woke you, Mr Riordan.’
‘What time is it?’
‘Just gone eleven. It’s your wife I was looking for actually.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘That’s between me and her if you can respect that.’
‘Oh, yeah, I’ve got all the respect for the collar, Father. The thing is, she’s not here.’
‘Oh? Where might she be?’
‘She took ill last evening. Her breathing. She’s got asthma, you know. They had to take her off to hospital, which isn’t a small matter. Just getting her out the door and into the ambulance. She’s a big girl.’
‘Which hospital?’
‘University. If you’re going, tell her the children are with her sister and I’m tending to myself.’
‘I can see you are.’
Murphy found her on the pulmonary unit. Visiting hours weren’t until two but priests roamed the wards freely. She was splayed out, snoring on an extra-wide bed, an oxygen mask held to her face by an elastic band.
He closed the door and stood beside her saying her name. When that didn’t wake her he lightly squeezed her upper arm through the flimsy cloth of her hospital gown. Her snoring stopped and she moaned lightly. Another harder squeeze did the trick.
‘Father?’ she said blearily.
‘Hello, Cindy. Here I am. How are you?’
She pulled her mask away until it rested on one cheek. ‘Not well, I’m afraid, as you can see.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear it. I did come as quickly as I could.’
‘From America?’
‘Yes, all the way from Boston. You called, I came.’
‘Oh dear …’ She began to wheeze.
‘Would you like me to ring for the nurse?’
She did and he removed himself from the room while a sister attended to her. When he was allowed to come back in the head of the bed was elevated and she was propped on pillows with prongs in her nostrils instead of the mask.
Before he could say anything, she told him, ‘I wish you hadn’t come.’
Murphy knew he probably wasn’t the most compassionate priest on the planet but he could hardly contain himself. ‘What in God’s name am I to make of this? You called me about a matter of some gravity and I dropped what I was doing and scampered all the way back to Ireland and now you say you wish I hadn’t come?’
Tears began flowing down her fleshy cheeks.
‘Look, I’m sorry to be harsh, Cindy, but I’m sure you can see why I’m gobsmacked.’
She whispered something so faintly he couldn’t hear it over the flowing oxygen. When he came closer, she repeated herself. ‘I was right. They were listening,’ she whispered.
‘How do you know that?’
‘They came to the house yesterday.’
‘Who did?’
‘Rough lads. On their motorbikes.’
Murphy could see their faces as if they were there in the room.
‘One tall, one shorter, the shorter one with a cratered complexion?’
‘That’s them. You know of them?’
‘I do. What did they say to you?’
‘They told me they’d harm me and the kids if I talked to you.’
‘They threatened you?’
The tears started running again.
‘Did you call the police?’
‘They said not to. They frightened me. It gave me a breathing fit and now look at me. So, I can’t speak with you, Father Murphy, even though I want to.’
‘Can you just tell me a little of what’s troubling you? I do want to help.’
‘Did you see anyone lurking in the corridors?’ she asked nervously.
‘Believe me, I’d know it if those two were about.’
She had him come even closer, so close he could smell the hospital toothpaste. ‘I didn’t want to do it. I didn’t want to sign their paper but Kenny made me. On account of the money.’
‘What money? What paper?’
‘I can’t say more.’ She pleaded with him. ‘Don’t ask me to say more.’
He didn’t and quietly left.
That night Kenny Riordan came to visit his wife after stopping at the pub for a few lubricating pints.
‘How’re you getting on?’ he asked, sitting on the bed while she reclined in the bedside lounging chair.
‘Much better. They’ve got me on the steroids by drip. Only thing is they make me put on weight.’
‘Oh yeah?’ he said. ‘How will we know?’
She wasn’t offended. She thought it was funny.
He asked whether the priest had come to visit. ‘You didn’t say nothing to him, did you?’
‘About Mary?’ she said defensively. ‘I wouldn’t.’
‘Good, see to it you don’t. We don’t want no trouble. You sent the padre packing?’
She nodded her big head. ‘I feel bad. He came all this way.’
‘Not a total waste. He’s racking up those frequent-flier miles, I’m sure.’
She visibly stiffened.
‘What’s the matter, love?’ Riordan asked.
He heard the creak of soft-soled shoes against the pale-green linoleum tiles and swiveled his neck.
‘Shit.’
‘What a lovely greeting,’ Doyle said. His partner, McElroy, shut the door. Doyle had the smallest bunch of gift-shop flowers one could buy. ‘Brung these for you. Got a vase in here?’
She stared at him mutely.
Doyle looked around and, seeing none, plonked the nosegay into an empty urinal pan.
‘Kenny, there’s a pub down the block. Why don’t you get yourself a pint while we have a small chat with Cindy? All right?’
‘Don’t leave,’ she begged.
‘That’s awful advice,’ Doyle said. ‘You see, we know where your sister lives, darling. The kids are there, aren’t they? You wouldn’t want us riding over there later on.’
Riordan got up and mumbled to his wife that he’d be waiting in the hall.
Doyle, the tall man, bent over and whispered to him, ‘Don’t fret. Won’t be long.’
Kenny paced the hall, making a circuit around the nursing station until he saw the men leaving her room. McElroy’s face showed its usual emptiness but Doyle was grinning like he’d just heard a wicked joke. He made a point of hitting Riordan with his shoulder as he passed him.
‘Done you a favor. You can step out now. And Kenny, we was never here.’
Riordan fast-walked the corridor and swung the door open. She was in the chair, her head resting oddly on one shoulder, eyes open but unsearching.
He fell to his knees before her.
‘Cindy. No. No. No. Nurse!’
Murphy was sound asleep in his hotel room when his phone rang. He hadn’t been expecting any calls and his phone was charging in the bathroom. Aside from the unmade bed, the room almost looked unused. His small overnight bag was packed and ready to go, his clothes draped neatly over the chair.
‘Father Murphy, it’s Kenny Riordan.’
‘It’s the middle of the night, Kenny. What’s the matter?’
‘Can you come to the hospital. It’s Cindy.’
There was a place off the hospital’s ground floor called the bereavement room and well after midnight, that’s where Murphy hunkered down with Riordan.
‘Tell me what happened?’
‘She stopped breathing. They think it was maybe a heart attack. There was nothing they could do for her.’
Murphy detected more than grief. The man was scared too.
‘Are you telling me everything, Kenny?’
‘Course I am. Tell me something, Father. You met with her earlier in the day. How did she seem?’
‘You know she summoned me, don’t you?’
‘She said something about it but I don’t know what she had in mind.’
‘She didn’t tell you?’
Riordan sputtered a denial but he looked like a tyke caught in a web of lies.
‘She wanted to unburden herself,’ the priest said.
‘What did she say to you?’
‘Even in death I can’t betray a confidence but she told me a few things, perhaps not everything.’
Riordan’s chest heaved a couple of times. ‘Look, Father, I respect you and all but I need to know what beans she spilled. There’s people about that would do us harm. I don’t want my kids to be orphans.’
Murphy held a hand over his eyes while he thought. Then he said, ‘Did someone do this? Did someone cause her death?’
‘The doctor said it was likely a heart attack,’ Riordan replied weakly.
‘Are they going to do a post-mortem exam?’
‘I wouldn’t let them.’
Murphy couldn’t stay seated. He shuffled his feet a bit and crossed his arms.
‘I feel I should speak with the police.’
That got Riordan on his feet too. ‘No, Father, you don’t want to do that. These are bad people, really bad sorts. It’ll come back on me and mine.’
