The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (53 page)

"Right
as in fashionable," Harry nodded.

"No.
 Right as in the shoes for the right foot.  I imagine that all the freaking
left ones are in the gym bag!"  I started tossing the partner-less shoes
at him.

"Ouch! 
Cut it out!  I suppose this is my problem."  He ducked.  I just missed him
as my running shoe breezed by his head.

"You
had to help me out.  I was doing fine.  You had to invite a woman to our home
that hates me.  Yes, she hates me.  And now I’m in her home where she still hates
me.  Her maid is convinced I will bring evil to this house."  I open my
arms wide encompassing the whole room so he could get the full picture.  "Plus,
she notices everything.  I think she’s going to notice that I’m wearing the
same shoes to everything.  Probably will point it out to passersby.  Excuse
her, madam, for wearing two right shoes, she is over compensating for having
two left feet."

"She
really hates you?  Who could hate you?"  Harry started picking up the
shoes.  He moved quickly as I just missed kicking him in the behind by a toe.

"She
has this idea in her head that I’m trying to seduce, or already have seduced,
her nephew."

"Did
you?"

"Harry
O'Rourke!  I’m going to pretend I didn't hear that come out of your mouth!" 
I sat down on the edge of the bed and glared at him.

"So,
he must have given her the idea because I think she’s a smart woman and
wouldn't make it up."

"Why
would he do something like that?  He's a priest, a Jesuit priest, Harry.  They
take their vows and the breaking of them very seriously."  I blew air out
of my nose.  Most people sigh, I snort. "He has a big..."

"No.
Don't tell me!"  Harry's hands shot over his ears.

I
had to laugh.  He looked so vulnerable standing there, willing me not to say
anything sexual that would embarrass both of us.  "Why are you
laughing?"  He tentatively released one ear.

"Ego,
he has a big ego.  Honestly, your head's in the gutter."

"Where
did you meet this guy?"

"On
the plane going over to see Noelle, but I think that he may have arranged to
sit next to me.  Now where does a priest get the flight information?  He knew I
was going to Bathgate just after I knew I was going.  He’s a hell of a
fighter.  As weak as he was, Harry, this guy gave that psycho a run for his money.
 Let me see, he rock climbs.  How many priests rock climb?"

"Seems
like you’ve thought a lot about Father Michael."

"I
just don't like being lied to.  I feel that something about him isn't
kosher."

"Cute,
kosher and priest.  Cute."  Harry got up.  "If you need some shoes,
then we’ll have to go shopping, I suppose.  That is, if I can't find that
bag."  He left my room and crossed through to his before exiting into the
hall.  In his own way he was trying to protect my reputation by not having him
leave by way of my room.

As
I set my personal items on the counter of our shared bath I noticed that Harry
had more hair products than I did.  I looked at my reflection in the mirror and
questioned whether I had let myself go a bit.  My curly auburn hair was as
unmanageable as ever, and with the exception of a faint silver scar line across
my throat, my skin was in remarkable condition.  There were some faint laugh
lines at the corners of my brown eyes that were probably the precursor of
things to come.  I'm glad I never smoked, as my full lips were unlined.  Most
women go through a daily inventory of age lines. I prefer a yearly one.  That
way you can pat yourself on the back, taking credit for your genetics, run to
the cosmetic counter, or contemplate plastic surgery.  The hidden truth was
that I had had some surgery, following my return to the states.  It was to
realign my broken nose, thanks to the late Michael Sherborn and to minimize the
carving his lover Ivana did to my face.  Their deaths not only scarred my
outsides but did a great job on my psyche as well.

"Not
bad for an old broad," Harry's voice scared another few lines onto my
face.

"Don't
you ever knock?"

"You're
in my bathroom."  He smiled.

"Our
bathroom,” I corrected.  “What are you so happy about?"

Harry
lifted up the missing bag of shoes.  I couldn't believe it.  Could it be our
luck was turning around?  "Where?"

"It
was overlooked in the trunk of the limo.  The driver hadn't left yet so I was
able to rescue them." 

I
accepted the bag graciously and only winced when Harry told me to move my ass
as we were late for the confabs.  I paired up some tennis shoes, which looked
much better with my jeans than what I had on.  Time for action, and I was
dressed for it.

~

Diane
was sitting in a large floral chair with her feet up and holding a drink in her
hand when we entered the drawing room.

"I
always have a drink to unwind after a flight.  We don't worry about whether it
is cocktail time or not here in Savannah.  Betty would be happy to serve you
something."

"No
thank you.  I’m anxious to begin.  Harry?"  Hoping he would follow my
lead, I gave him the choice. 

"Maybe
some water?"  Harry smiled in the direction of what I mistook as a room
screen but was actually my fan Betty, dressed in a Chinese print pantsuit.

"Now
that we’re here in Savannah, what do you hope to find?" Diane asked,
slipping deeper into a soft Georgia accent.

"I
hope that by going through Father Michael's things we may find some missing
pieces.  Such as: who is he working for, why they sent him to Florida, anything
that would give us an idea where to start looking once Harry and I get back
there."

"Betty
will give you the keys to the garage flat.  I only ask that if you are removing
something that you let me know what you have taken so I can account it to
Michael when he returns."

"Fair
enough, can I ask you a rather delicate question?"

"Sure,
should I send Betty away?"

"No.
 The answer may benefit both Betty and I."

"Now,
I’m intrigued."  Diane sat up and motioned for another drink.

"Since
I’ve never contemplated seducing your nephew, nor have I felt any attraction
for him, how did I get saddled with this scarlet letter?"

Diane
lifted an eyebrow.  "He kept calling your name when he was unconscious at
the hospital.  He risked his life as you did yours for each other.  He is
rather fond of you.  He spent hours telling me things about you.  He likes you.
 Dangerous liking a married woman, especially when you're a priest."

"I’m
divorced.”

“We
Catholics don’t believe in divorce.”

I
wanted to shout
bullshit
at her but said instead, “Couldn't all this be
attributed to us being friends?"

"It
would be unusual but possible, I guess."  Diane accepted the freshened
drink from Betty.  Betty turned around and drilled me into the couch with her
eyes.

"Is
it possible enough for some of the religious artifacts being removed from my
room?" I asked meekly.

Diane
looked at Betty, and Betty spoke up, "Oh Ms. Fin-Lathen, that has nothing
to do with your relationship with Father Michael.  I’m so sorry you
misunderstood.”

"Betty,
why then?" Diane asked curiously.

"It
is because you's a pagan!"  With that said, she held an enormous crucifix
before her.

"Betty!
Control yourself.  Who has slandered our guest?"

"It
was the Father.  He wrote it in his diary."

"What
else?  No wait, don't tell me.  Betty, Diane, I assure you that I am not a
pagan.  I may know some pagans, but I’m not a practicing pagan.  I’m a
Lutheran, but not a practicing one."

Betty
seemed relieved but still kept her distance.  Maybe non-practicing Lutherans
fell in with pagans as undesirables?

"Betty,
you said you read his diary?"

"Yes.
It was laying out, and I was dustin and..."

"I
get the picture.  Is the diary still here?"

She
nodded.  "Over in the flat."

"For
the record, Father Michael and I are friends and tend to annoy each other one
way or another.  Sort of like my friend Harry here, whom I think of as my son. 
He isn't my boy but pushes all the buttons like he’s my boy.  Now, I would like
to have the keys.  The sooner we begin, the sooner we can have Father Michael
back, and the sooner I can kill him myself."  I got up and held my hand
out for the keys.  Betty produced them from her pocket and dropped them into my
hand being very careful not to touch my skin.  I had a bad feeling that the
crosses would remain in my room.

Harry
got up and followed me out of the room.  He didn't say a word until we were
outside.  "Did it."

"Did
what?"

"I
thought if I was extra quiet they would forget I was there and not offer me any
of those confabs."

I
nodded my head in agreement.  "See what good things can happen when you're
quiet?"  I took the lead and headed over to the garage and up the steps on
the side.  "I’m going to find that diary, and I assure you it isn't going
back until I’ve read it page by page."

"Cin,
sometimes it isn't a good thing to eavesdrop."

"I'll
be reading not listening, besides we’re detectives, right?"  I found the
right key and opened the door. 

"You
know what I mean.  Hey, neat place."  Harry whistled as he stepped in.

The
garage flat was tidy and furnished very expensively.  It was reminiscent of
Ethan Allen on steroids.  Everything was bulkier as if it was going to hold a
very large person.  The colors were muted, but the polished wood gave this room
a life of its own.  We stood in a combined living room/kitchen with a small
office cut into an alcove.  The office was equipped with a computer, fax,
scanner and a Palm Pilot station.  It seemed a bit excessive for a priest, but
after all, he was a researcher.  The computer was logged off and the desk was
clear, no diary here.  I started to open the drawers when Harry's startled
voice summoned me to a room in the rear.

"Is
this you?"  Harry held up the copy of the front page of a British
tabloid.  There was the picture that a sneaky photographer snapped of me while
I was hugging a young violin impresario in London.

"Yes,
that's me. You never saw that?"

"Nope,
must have missed it.  Look at all this other stuff," Harry indicated a
pile of pictures, newspapers and other papers stacked haphazardly on a bedside
table.

I
thought it was out of character if the outer room was an indication of
Michael's habits.  The disorder of the bedroom made it look as if someone else
lived here or maybe it had been searched?  I looked around and didn't find the
offending diary.  "Harry, could you ask Betty to come over here?"

"Sure,
take advantage of my young legs."  He smiled and took off at a trot.

I
took the opportunity of Harry being gone to look through Michael's more
personal items.  It looked like he had packed as some of the hangers hung empty
in the closet but his drawers were a mess as if someone riffled through the
contents.  I was walking into the bathroom when I heard Harry return with a
panting Betty.

"Betty,
I’m sorry to bother you, but is this how Michael, er, Father Michael left his
room?"  I stepped aside and let her enter.

"Oh
no, Missus, it was neat as a pin just yesterday."

"Betty,
please call me Cin, that's C I N."  I pointed to the stack of periodicals
that included my cover.  "Where are those normally kept?"

"The
Father,” she hesitated before asking, “Can I talk plainly?"

I
nodded.

"He’s
Mikey to me.  Mikey kept all his papers on the top shelf of the closet.  In a
box."  Betty was rummaging around in the closet.  "Here it is." 
She pulled out an unremarkable cardboard box.  "I don't know what has been
going on in here."

"Looks
to me, someone started to search this room.  Since it’s been only since
yesterday, I suppose that alibis Diane.  I don't see his diary anywhere."

"Did
you look in the hidey-hole?"  Betty walked over to the bed and tapped the
wainscoted wall behind the headboard.  She pushed a panel in and slid it to the
side.  "The diary's here as always."  She reached in and handed me a
small brown leather book.

"You
must be a thorough duster," I said dryly.

Betty
started laughing.  "You must think me a horrible snoop.  I've been spying
on the members of this household for near on forty years as my mother did
before me.  You see these Williams need managing or they will run amuck.  That
one in there," Betty tilted her head towards the house, "She should
have had children of her own, but no, she transferred all that love on to
Mikey.  She was interfering in his life long before his Daddy passed on."

"Is
there anything else in there?" I asked, trying to look around her.

She
turned and gathered some things in her arms.  She looked over her shoulder at
me a moment as if to judge whether or not I should see “everything” and smiled
and pulled one last item out.  She walked over to the low chest of drawers and
started to empty the contents of her arms on to it.  "He has some army
men, old Pooh bear and his bag of marbles."

"May
I? I picked up the army men and looked at each one.  "Harry, look at
these.  Notice anything different about them?"

Harry
took each one and fingered it, turning it over, trying to read the plastic
imprint. "They’re just cheap plastic men."

"I
thought so.  Four army guys, Pooh bear and a bag of marbles."  I opened
the bag and poured the contents into my hand.  One steely, two boulders,
thirteen cat's eyes and four diamonds!"

Harry
looked over my shoulder and whistled.  "Are they real?"

"I
don't know."

"Let
me see."  Betty's large fingers delicately picked one up.  "Lordie-lord-lord-lord." 
She held it up to the light.  "It's not a crystal, them's cut different. 
Pretty large for a diamond though.  If they's real, what's our boy doing with
them?"  She carefully put it back in my hand.

I
rolled the diamonds along with the marbles back into the pouch.  I grabbed the
stuffed bear and squeezed him all over and determined that sometimes a bear is
just a bear.  I would have to use this against my friend for keeping his Pooh
bear when I next saw him.  I hoped it would be soon.

"I
think I don't have to mention that we better keep this to ourselves," I
said, looking at Betty and Harry. "He could be keeping them for someone. 
There are a lot of confidences between priests and their parishioners.  This
may be one of them."

"The
army men have been altered," Harry piped up.

"What?"

"Normal,
green plastic army men don't have the detail these do.  I know because Alex and
I used to go to the dollar store, buy them, take them outside and melt them
with magnifying glasses.  Anyway, see the tiny crosses on the lapels?"

I
picked one up and couldn't see anything.  I felt around in my pocket until I
came up with my tiny reading glasses.  I put them on but still couldn't see
what he was talking about. "I sure could use one of those magnifying
glasses about now."

Betty's
eyes lit up, and she smiled and walked into the other room.  I heard a desk
drawer open and a "here it is."  She came back with an antique
magnifying glass.  She handed it to me, and I studied the little green man.

Have
you ever looked at one of those plastic men up close?  Don't feel bad, as this
was my first time too.  The expression on the face was a shade short of evil. I
looked at the uniform, and sure enough, there was a cross melted into the
lapel.  I picked up each man, and they had the same alteration. I looked up.  "They
all have crosses on their uniforms?"