The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (63 page)

I
vaguely remember a phrase, "When the going gets tough the tough get
going," and the amendment to it, "the women go shopping."  In my
case, it was band night, so I went to band practice.  I tried not to think of
the trip to the airport in the morning.  Just the thought of jump school was,
well, scary.

I
pulled into the parking lot and squeezed my roadster between a giant SUV and an
extended cab pickup truck.  Feeling like a lone ranch house amongst
skyscrapers, I exited the car and navigated gingerly between the parked giants
to extract my instrument and things from the car.  I didn't like the way the
large vehicles blocked the parking lot’s lights, and I made a mental note that
next time it would be better to opt out of the close parking space for a safer
one farther away.

I
picked up my gear and walked smack into a wall.  It was a human wall, male,
smelled of Eternity cologne, and - as my face was pressed firmly into a nice
set of pectoral muscles - a tall man.

"Excuse
me, I didn't see you," I said as I craned my neck upwards trying to
identify the wall.

"Sorry,
my fault," the wall answered back with Dwayne's voice.

"Dwayne,"
I said stepping back.  "Am I that late?"  I realized that I just
pointed out that Dwayne never got to band on time - he always cruised in just
after warm-up - but it was rude of me to say so.

"Well,
no, you're not late, and yes I’m always a bit behind time.  Nice of you to
notice though."  He smiled and his eyes twinkled.  "Actually, I was
hoping to have a chance to talk to you about how your trip to the school
went."

"Walk
me into the building, and I will tell you about how a day starting out with
charity ended up with me in jail."

His
eyebrows shot up and he backed out of the way. "Jail?"

I
gave him a sketchy representation of the events, editing out the priests and
the diamonds.

"Is
Mr. Williams okay?"

"Father."

"What,
oh yes, I forgot he was a priest.  How is he?  I feel so bad that he got hurt,
especially since it involved my charity."

"I
guess he's recuperating.  I haven't heard anything."

"Is
he in the hospital?  Home?" he questioned.

"I
don't know.  Why?"  I felt a prickling in my spine.

"I
guess I just wanted to send him a card or something.  I feel responsible for
his accident."

"Why,
you didn't tell him to go walking around an abandoned mill did you?" I
said, stopping to adjust my handhold on my instrument case.

"No,
but maybe I should have gone with him.  Why was he over there?"

"Don't
know."

"Why
were you over there?"

Gee,
now the prickling was more like a full assault that screamed, “BE CAREFUL WHAT
YOU SAY.”  "A little boy told me about a man praying in the mill, and I
thought I would check it out, after all it could have been a ghost." I
grinned.

"You're
interested in ghosts?"

"Yes,
Dwayne, I am.  Haunted houses too.  Don't spread it around because most people
here think I’m a bit nuts as it is, and I don't want to confirm their suspicions."
 I smiled at him.  "Oh, I was thinking that if you wanted to send a card
to Michael you probably could do it through the foundation.  Do you have the
address?"

"I
think Williams left me a business card.  Thanks for the suggestion.  What did
you think of the school?"

"I
loved it.  I do want to be involved with helping out those kids if I can find
the time.  I don't know how you do it."

"You
make the time if the cause is a good one."

"I
guess you're right."  We had arrived at the outside entrance to the
practice room.  I waited for him to open the door, as any good gentleman
should.

"Well,
I hope you can find the time between ghost hunts.  Oh, one more thing," He
leveled his shoulders and stared down at me.  "Make sure when you're
hunting ghosts, you don't become one yourself." 

Was
this a veiled threat or just my imagination?  I just nodded dumbly and pushed
past him and opened my own damn door.  I breathed a sigh of relief as walked
into the band room, into the florescent light and into the safety of my
friends.

~

I
didn't play well that night.  It wasn't that the music was challenging but that
I couldn't pull my mind out of the day’s events.  Plus, I had the unnerving
feeling that Dwayne's eyes were burning a hole through my stand.  I had raised it
because I didn't want to see his face during the rehearsal.  If I was wrong and
totally imagined his role in Michael's accident, I didn't want my facial
expression to hurt this guy, and if he were part of this, I didn't want him to
know that I suspected him. 

It
didn't make sense that good old Dwayne would be mixed up with terrorists.  He
had been giving his time to the migrant workers’ kids since before I had been
in the band.  I never met a person like him before who didn't seem to have an
agenda.  There are volunteers that do charity work because they feel that they
have to and people who feel it is the right thing to do.  They arrive at events
and give their all and leave as soon as the clock says to.  They don't seek
recognition nor do they get hurt when their name is left off a thank you list. 
And then there are the ones that give money and time for the glory of
themselves.  They’re usually the ones holding office and the ones quick to
bristle if their name is mispronounced, or heaven help you, misspelled on a
thank you plaque!

Dwayne
genuinely liked the children he was providing for, and he was kind.  I guess
that’s why I couldn't fathom the ghost remark.  Maybe he was being funny, and
my sense of humor was off sick for the evening.  I made up my mind to say
something light and funny to him, but I couldn't find him at break.  Bernice
corralled me after practice, and by the time I left the building Dwayne had
already gone.  As I lugged my gear to the car I was pleased to find the two
mountainous vehicles no longer flanking my little blue car.  This perked me up
a bit, and as I stored my instrument, music and stand, I started humming the
last piece of music we worked on, “Memory” from
Cats
.

I
waited until I was in the car before singing the words.  My singing voice is
not one of my assets.  As I drove out of the parking lot I poured my heart into
the words, not bothered at all by not knowing most of them.

My
cell phone's ring didn't break up my solo.  I just kept singing as I answered
the phone.

"…alone
in the moonlight..."

"Me
too.  Wanna come over?" a familiar male voice answered.

"Michael?"

"Yup.
 The warden’s away, and the priests have gone to play."

"You
sound like you’re enjoying the painkillers."

"Indeed,
I want to see you," his voice slowed as it dropped deeper.

"I
don't know.  It's late and you're off limits."

"Harry's
taken Betty and my aunt to the opera."

I
started to laugh.  "Wait, you're telling me that Horrible Harry is dating
your aunt?"

"Appears
so."

"And
you're?"

"All
alone in the moonlight."

"K,
I'll call home, and if all's well there I’ll come over," I told him and
dialed home.  There was no answer there so I called Luke's cell.  He picked up
on the fourth ring.

"How'd
band go?" he said loudly to combat the whining of a jet engine.

"I
was a dud tonight.  Where are you?" I asked.

"Stephen
called.  We're going to Tel Aviv tonight.  I left you a note on the computer,
didn't want to interrupt your band practice.  So you’re on your own with the
jump school tomorrow."

"Me
and the boys I guess.  I'm not going to jump.  I decided that I would probably
lose a shoe and spend all day looking for it."

"I
think that's a sound decision.  Your shoe budget is killing your retirement
fund."

I
started to tell him about Michael's phone call, but I could tell he was
distracted.  I wished him good luck on the trip and to let me know when he was
coming back.  He wished me luck in return and told me to stay out of trouble
and keep my shoes on.

Harry
was out, Noelle was a six-hour time zone away, and my son Alex, well, he was
living his own life.  I wondered if it was the loneliness that had me turning
east towards Michael instead of west towards home, or was it something deeper?

I
sat in the car as the guard called Michael to confirm that I was a guest.  I
wasn't on any list.  I wasn't exactly dressed for Palm Beach.  Blue jeans and a
t-shirt were just fine for band practice but maybe too slummy to get by the
gates of the Palm Beach communities.  I wondered if Harry in his jeep and his
Brooks Brothers attire had any trouble.  Probably not.  Harry never had a
problem fitting in.  It must be the actor in him.

The
guard came back out and gave me directions to the high-rise Michael resided in.
 He told me where to park and suggested I put the top up on the BMW because
rain was on the way.  I smiled sweetly and drove away.

"He
could have at least added
little lady
," I said aloud.

I parked the
car, put the top up and locked up.  "Seedy neighborhood," I said as I
patted the back of my car.

The
truth was I was jealous.  The place was secure and posh.  The lobby was
spacious and the elevator large and mirrored.  I checked out my looks and
quickly gave up on taming my curls.  Hell, this was just Michael.  Father
Michael.  The doors opened to a small foyer with two doors facing me.  I didn't
know what to do.  I didn't know which condo the Williamses were in.  I knew
that the view was of the Intercostal instead of the Atlantic, but how was I
supposed to tell from inside the building?

I
was headed for the wrong door when Michael opened the right one.

"Running
away?"

He
stood on crutches, barely dressed and looked so handsome that my jaw dropped
open.  His black hair was messy, and he wasn't attired in his priest duds.  He
wore a pair of shorts that actually complimented his leg cast.  The Hawaiian
shirt he had on was hanging open, and all I could see was a wonderful expanse
of tight abs and dark chest hair.

"You
gonna stand there all night?" He actually winked at me.

"No,
what's going on, Father?" I said as I moved past him into the condo.

"Figured
I owed you an explanation," he said as he closed and locked the door.  "I
made some Manhattans.  They're out there on the balcony."

"You're
drinking on painkillers?  Booze and pills equals projectile vomiting," I
said, shaking my head.

"I
wonder how you know that," he asked but didn't expect an answer. 
"Actually I made them for you."

"Plying
me with drinks, what would your aunt say?"  I walked through a tastefully
decorated living room and out onto a balcony that was equipped with a wet bar,
several chaise lounges and a beautiful view of West Palm Beach across the
Intercostal Waterway.  "Wow."

"I
thought you'd like it. Aunt Diane never does anything by halves."

"Which
would include a proper disembowelment if she caught me here with you."  I
turned to him and asked, "Why does she hate me so much?"

Michael
eased himself down and motioned towards the tray, and I dropped several ice
cubes in a glass, added a cherry and poured the previously mixed drink over
ice.

"She
isn't used to any competition for my affection, and she can tell I love
you."

"Whoa
big fella, the pills have scrambled your eggs."

"Not
sexually, honestly, we tried that."

I
thought back to Cornwall and the kiss I planted on the priest.  No sexual
chemistry but...

"I
love you.  I can't help that, just thought you should know."  He sat back
and closed his eyes.

I
downed my drink and poured another before answering.  "Is that why you
wanted to talk to me?"

"You're
not going to say it, are you?"

"What?"

"You're
not going to tell me that you love me too," he said gruffly.

"No,
because."

"Because
what?" he demanded.

"I
care for you, but if I tell you I love you then karma hell breaks loose.  I'm
still married according to your church, and you're a priest, unless that’s a
lie?"

"So,
you're not going to say it."

"Nope,"
I said, sitting back in my own chaise lounge.

"Stubborn."

I
just raised my hand and dropped it into my lap.  "So, you wanna tell me
what the hell you were doing in that mill."

"I
thought Father…"

"No.
 Not second hand, from you," I snapped.  Anger is a good way to push down
feelings.  "And why the hell did you involve me?"

"Because
I knew I could count on you.  Harry was a surprise, but I knew you would find
me.  We have this connection."  He sat up and twisted around until he
faced me.  "Something terrible is going down, and it's in your backyard,
Cin.  How was I going to stay out of it if it meant you would be in danger?"

"Ah,
Michael, you put me in danger.  You could have said 'time to move.’"

He
laughed at me.  "And you would have said, time to bleep myself."

"True.
 So where do we go from here?"

"I
guess we sit back and watch the stars."  He smiled and arranged himself
back into the lounge.

"You
wanna play marbles?" I said, pulling the pouch of diamonds and marbles out
of my pocket.

"They're
not marbles," he said offhandedly.

"Duh,
do you think I’m that stupid?  Oh wait.  Yes you do."  I got up and put my
drink down and walked over and sat next to him on the chair.  "They're old
diamonds, very real.  Although they're not terrorist diamonds, they still do
seem dangerous to me."

"They
could be yours.  All you have to do is leave Harry."

“Harry
isn’t mine.  I’d drive off and leave him in a field somewhere, but he would
just find his way back,” I said, trying to lighten up the moment.  Was he
serious?  What kind of mind game was he playing with me?

“I
noticed the ex-husband is in the picture.”

“Not
by my choice.  Those painkillers are awesome.  First of all, Luke stays until
he can afford to move on.  And Harry, well, it isn't as if I sought out
Harry."

"He
found you.  He found you when I was away," he said with genuine regret.

"Harry
is like a son and..."

"He
never leaves you, does he?" 

Michael
brushed my hair away from my face.  I felt a warmth spread through me.  Was
this hell fire come to claim me?  "No, he never leaves.  He is annoying
and..."

"He
never leaves.  Luke will leave again.  Noelle left and, hell, Alex yo-yos
around, but basically he has left the nest.  But I fear Harry is forever."

"Now
I'm depressed."  I got up and went over and sat in my chair and reached
for my drink.  I pulled out the cherry and contemplated whether this counted as
my serving of fruit for the day.  "But what has that to do with us?"

"You
and I could be a spectacular team.  I could give up the collar, and we could
kick some serious butt out there in the world.  But it would mean leaving
Harry."

I
don’t know why I didn’t mention my children, band and, yes, Harry, but I
didn’t.  I just sat there staring at my cherry.  Sure it sounded like fun, and
glancing past the red orb at Michael, I knew I wouldn’t mind the view so much. 
But.  I dropped the cherry back into my drink.  I thought of all the things I
should say but thought better of them.  I was tired, drunk and very vulnerable.
 I was on the brink of becoming every bit the woman Aunt Diane thought I was.  But
I didn’t want to be her, so I opened the little pouch and pulled out a cat's
eye marble before handing him the rest.  "You hang on to these, they're
too dangerous," I said and rolled the marble around in my palm.

"That's
my prized cat's eye."

"Nope,
it’s mine."  I put it in my pocket, sat back.  He didn’t say anything more. 
We just stared at the stars until I sobered up and went home to my
"memories...all alone in the moonlight..."