The Pastor’s Jezebel Lover (13 page)

Ramon stared at his phone. Odd, he felt, that Frank would ignore him like this. Last thing he knew was that he went to visit Jack’s old business partner Franklin Summers. He shrugged. Perhaps he was still talking to the guy and couldn’t be disturbed. He was dying to know what had transpired between the two men and if it had brought them any closer to the truth.

Eileen sipped her hot cocoa and stared at him for a moment before posing the question that had been on her lips all this time.

“Are you sure about this, honey? I mean, what will the people—”

“—think?” He smiled. “The people will think that Ramon Cole is the luckiest guy on the planet for having won the hand of the loveliest girl in the world.”

She pouted her lips. “I doubt very much that that’s what they’ll think.”

“Their loss. It’s what they should think. It’s what I think.”

“Me too.” She reflected. “Well, perhaps not the part about the loveliest girl in the world. I’m sure there’s plenty of lovely girls who easily out-lovely me.”

They both laughed, and Ramon clasped her hand in his. They’d done it. They’d had their first serious fight and they’d overcome it and had even grown closer. It was proof that their relationship could stand the test of time, he knew.

Eileen regarded the man she loved with dewy eyes. He wasn’t merely easy on the eyes and the loveliest man on the planet, he was also the man who’d proven that he wasn’t merely interested in her physical form but her spirit as well. She still wondered whether he was making the right choice in marrying her, concerned as she was about his future as the parish priest with her by his side, but if he thought that over time they could conquer the hearts and minds of his parishioners, she believed him.

Hadn’t he conquered her heart and mind?

“Have you heard from Frank yet?” was her next question. She was dying to know what had happened. She knew Franklin Summers well, of course. Sometimes she’d even had the impression he was her only friend in the world when things had turned ugly between her and Jack.

That and he had finally encouraged her to seek a divorce. She doubted if without him she would have had the courage to go through with that. He’d even taken care of all the initial paperwork and contacted Jacqueline Doulard on her behalf.

She owed that man a great debt of gratitude and hoped he would find it in his heart to be a character witness for her at the trial. He could definitely attest to her claim that it was she who had filed for divorce and not Jack as her ex-husband had falsely claimed.

Ramon laid down his phone, a thoughtful frown on his face. “Odd. He’s not picking up and this time the call went straight to voicemail. Almost as if he’s avoiding me.”

“There’s probably a perfectly simple explanation, honey. Perhaps he’s too busy at the moment. You know what lawyers are like. It’s not as if mine is the only case he’s got.”

“I’m sure you’re right,” said Ramon with a sigh.

Eileen moved over to her future husband, and massaged the frown that had formed on his brow. She kissed the tip of his nose and feathered kissed on his temples and cheeks until she’d reached his lips.

“Everything will work out for the best,” she murmured, and was gratified to find him responsive to her treatment as their kiss grew more passionate and heated by the moment. Five seconds later they were both naked, and using the kitchen table to celebrate their newly found happiness with the abandon of young lovers in the throes of first love.

“I love you, Ramon,” muttered Eileen as she clasped her panting lover close to her heart. “God, I love you so much…”

Eileen stared out the window of Ramon’s bedroom—their bedroom—and pondered the days that had passed since meeting the priest. She’d never been a religious woman, figuring Christ was for other people, not for the likes of her. A Jezebel. A Mary Magdalene. That’s what she was. Not the sweet Mother Mary who gazed at you beatifically from the walls of the church or her pedestal at the entrance.

And then there were the gossipmongers, all of whom seemed to be churchgoers. It had planted the notion in her head that the two were intrinsically connected: go to church and you’re granted a license to bully and torment others who do not tow the line the way they’re supposed to according to the tenets of your religion.

In spite of being a churchgoing woman herself, she’d always felt ambivalent about the practice for this reason, until she met Father Ramon. A truly good man, she now called him. Perhaps one of the last really good men out there as far as she was concerned.

And extremely sexual as well. She’d always figured religious people were pious and asexual. Well, they’d definitely broken the mold when they put Ramon on this earth, she thought. He was probably the most sexual and sensual man she’d ever met. Bar none.

“Speak of the devil,” she quipped when her husband-to-be walked up behind her and enveloped her in his strong arms.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

She sighed happily and kissed his hands. “I was just thinking how much has changed these last few days. I’d never have thought when Mom suggested I take choir practice that—”

“—you would find yourself engaged to the choirmaster?”

She grinned. “Mom would have been horrified if she’d known I’d end up seducing the parish priest.”

“I like to think I was the one doing the seducing,” he murmured as he nuzzled her ear.

“Oh, you did your part, Father Ramon. You most certainly did,” she agreed.

“I want to announce our marriage in the parish weekly.”

She jerked around, the topic still a point of contention between them. “Are you sure that is wise?”

“Not only wise but an absolute necessity as far as I’m concerned. I want the whole world to know about the wonderful, beautiful woman I’m marrying.”

“I still think we should keep the wedding a small affair. Friends and family. Nothing fancy. I really don’t want the greatest day of my life ruined by a dozen harridans prone to judgment.”

“They won’t judge you. I promise.”

“And how are you going to prevent them from casting judgment on me? The habit is engrained, and when they see me walking down the aisle, they’ll have a field day.” She shook her head adamantly. “No, I won’t have that kind of negativity marring the most beautiful day of my life.”

“I’ll talk to them. I’ll—”

“There’s no talking to the likes of Mrs Cooper and Mrs Burke and all the others of their ilk, Ramon. They’ll politely nod and think their own thoughts.”

He cupped her chin in his hand and forced her to meet his eyes. The moment their gaze met, she found her mood lifting instantly. He had that effect on her. “Trust me, Eileen. I’ll take care of it.”

Trust was not an emotion that came naturally to her, but looking into his warm eyes, she found the hard crust of anger and resentment melting away. She nodded once. “I wish you luck, changing the minds of those people. Just… don’t expect too much, Ramon.”

“Trust me,” he simply repeated and captured her lips in a tender kiss. “I won’t let my bride be harassed anymore,” he whispered in her ear.

An involuntary smile formed on her lips, and she found herself relaxing, the stone weighing down her mood lifting for a moment—long enough to wrap her arms around him and allowing herself to be hugged by the man she loved.

Trust. Yes, she could give it a try. Just for his sake, she could allow that alien concept to becoming the guiding light of her life, just as it did with his.

“I trust you, Ramon,” she finally muttered, and she hoped he would succeed. For both their sakes.

The doorbell rang, and she reluctantly released her fiancé to start his day. She wondered what she would do today. Before this whole mess with Jack had upended her life, she’d been working with the local employment agency, trying to find suitable employ.

It wasn’t easy. The scandal that had broken loose after she’d been forced to resign from her position at Saint-Luke’s Hospital had soured her reputation. It was hard to work as a nurse again, even one as qualified as she was.

But the woman manning the agency had nevertheless sent out her résumé to all possible venues, in hopes of a bite. So far, nothing.

And now with the trial hanging over her head, she was certain she would find no gainful employ until the matter was resolved in her favor. Even then, it was doubtful she’d ever work as a nurse again.

Ramon hurried downstairs, wondering what all the hubbub was about. His housekeeper had a key and usually let herself in, and it was too early for his parishioners to start coming round.

Yanking open the door, he was surprised to find Burt Howe on the doorstep, stomping his feet and rubbing his hands in an attempt to keep warm.

“Officer Howe. What brings you here?”

“Can I come in?” the testy response was. “I’m freezing my nuts off out here, padre.”

Reluctantly, Ramon stepped aside to let the policeman in. He just hoped he wasn’t here for Eileen. The woman needed rest, not more visits from the town copper.

“If you’re looking for Eileen—” he began.

“I’m actually looking for the both of you,” Burt announced, his searching gaze taking in his surroundings. “I have some news to impart.”

Ramon briefly went toe to toe with the detective. “I just hope you haven’t come here to upset her anymore, Howe. Eileen deserves a break. At least until the trial.”

“There won’t be a trial, father,” barked the cop.

Ramon’s eyebrows lifted. “Oh?”

Without waiting for an invitation, Burt stalked down the dark corridor and shoved open a door at the end. The construction of these old houses was all the same, he knew, and he was in search of the kitchen and something hot to defrost his frozen limbs.

When he entered the kitchen, his eyes immediately swiveled to the coffee pot he knew should be bubbling somewhere on the stove. When he found none, he didn’t hide his disappointment.

“No coffee?” he growled.

Ramon, who had followed him in, pointed to a coffee maker conveniently placed near the sink. “Help yourself, detective. You’ll find pods in the cupboard.”

Burt eyed the contraption wearily. He didn’t like these new-fangled coffee makers with their pods and the minute doses of coffee they doled out. He preferred the good old-fashioned type producing enough coffee to really hit the spot and jump-start the system.

“Pods and capsules,” he grumbled. “Who needs fucking pods when all you want is a cup of coffee?”

“Here. Let me do the honors,” Eileen spoke in his rear. She’d silently entered the kitchen and now stole up behind the policeman and reached up for the box of coffee pods. “Pick your poison, Mr Howe. Mocha, Cappuccino, regular…”

He eyed her interestedly. She looked… different, he reckoned. Less pale and worn out than the day before. Something—or someone—was doing her a world of good. “Just a regular cup of coffee, Eileen. I’m just a plain Joe.”

She displayed a crooked smile. “Just a plain cuppa Joe for a plain Joe, huh, Mr Howe?”

“Yeah. That about it. And please call me Burt, will you. I hate it when people call me Mr Howe. Makes me feel like a fucking banker.”

Eileen merely nodded, and started preparing a cup of regular brew for the policeman. He watched her deft fingers work the machine and remembered she was a trained nurse. Those hands had healed people, he briefly thought. He wondered if they ever would again.

He wheeled round before any more weird thoughts entered his mind, and took a seat without invitation, as was his habit. Placing his notebook on the table, he cleared his throat. “Eileen. Ramon. I feel like I owe you both an apology. In fact, this town owes you both an apology.”

“Oh?” said Eileen, frowning.

He leaned back and smoothed his rumpled suit, a fruitless habit for no matter how hard he tried, the suit never looked quite the way it should. Probably because he was short, he reckoned. Short guys never looked good in suits. At least he didn’t.

Not seeing the point in postponing things, he jumped straight to the crux. “You’re off the hook for the murder of Jacqueline Doulard, Eileen. We know who did it and why.”

“What? Who? When?
Why
?”

Eileen and Ramon were speaking simultaneously, and Burt held up his hands in mock defense. “Hold your horses, you two. Let me begin by saying that what I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential. None of this leaves this room, is that understood?”

Eileen nodded eagerly. Could this be it? Could this be the end of her suffering? She sincerely hoped so. She’d always looked upon Burt as the enemy. Perhaps he wasn’t? Could he be a friend instead?

He cocked an eyebrow. “How well do you know Franklin Summers, Eileen?”

“Franklin?” She shrugged. “He’s a friend. Of course I know him well.”

“I don’t think you know him well enough to see this one coming, though,” the detective grumbled. He fished in his pocket and came out with a bullet, then placed it on the table with a tap. “Do you know what this is?”

“A, um, bullet?” Eileen said, wide-eyed.

“Excellent powers of deduction, Eileen,” said Burt wryly. “Not just any bullet, however. This is the slug that killed Jacqueline Doulard.”

Eileen jerked back, horrified, but found comfort in Ramon’s arm as he protectively slung it across her shoulder.

“What’s this all about, Burt?” Ramon asked testily.

The policeman gave him a curious look, then shifted in his seat. “Yeah. Do you notice anything peculiar about this bullet?”

Eileen stared at the ghastly object, horrified to find the…
thing
… that killed her friend now displayed on the kitchen table.

“It’s a bullet, Burt. Nothing special about it. They all look the same to me,” gruffly intoned Ramon, who was clearly less than pleased with the policeman’s games.

Burt picked up the bullet and toyed with it for a moment, much to Eileen’s distress. “We found a match between this bullet and one we pulled out of a man several years ago. That man’s name might ring a bell. Joshua Parsley?”

Eileen frowned. Parsley? Then the name hit home and her eyes widened. “Suzie’s dad?”

“Bingo. Suzie Parsley’s dad was murdered five years ago with what looks like the same weapon that killed your lawyer.”