The Mother's Day Murder (6 page)

“I’m sure they do,” Mel said. “And I’m sure they’re concerned. But what’s close to people is what gets them riled up. You should see how angry parents can become when their children fail a test or write an essay that’s hardly distinguishable as English. They’re afraid their little darling won’t get into Harvard.”

We talked about that for a while and then the three of us started down the block.

“Chris, you have to do something about this,” Tina said as we walked.

“About what?”

“This tree problem. I love trees, but I don’t see how people can become so enraged about a little tree, even if it’s done some damage.”

“There isn’t much I could do,” I said. “I’m not a close friend of either of the families and if a mediator can’t get them together, I don’t think I’d be able to.”

“There has to be something.” She patted Eddie’s head and he looked up at her and smiled. “We should think about it really hard.”

“Do you have any ideas?” I asked.

“No. But it’s crazy for people to act like enemies when they’re neighbors. And everyone seems to accept it.”

Although she was probably including me in her “everyone,” I didn’t respond because I didn’t want to get into a discussion without end again. We all ate together and then I got Eddie off to bed. Tina had made a point of telling me she had said her morning prayers today and I knew she had said her evening prayers before dinner. She stayed up for a while, talking about the tree problem, then excused herself.

“So it’s up early tomorrow,” Jack said.

“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 family 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.

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