The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (52 page)

Christmas
music filled my ears, while red, green and gold lights danced around me.  I was
dressed in a Christmas gown the very image of Rosemary Clooney's in
White
Christmas
.  I floated as I walked.  Little children, at my feet, caught the
gifts that sprung from my hands at the merest flick of my wrist.  I was very
happy.  I even sang in tune.  I remembered thinking, “This is a great dream,”
when giant toy soldiers woodenly walked into view.  They appeared to want the
gifts that the children had.  I shook my finger at the soldiers, and to my
horror, flame-tipped arrows came from my fingers.  They hit the wooden men and
the men started to burn, but that didn't stop them.  The children at my feet
transformed into the bog, and Donald's hands were pulling me down.  There were
flames all around me, and the heat was unbearable.  I woke up soaking wet from
a night sweat.

Peri-menopause
was no picnic.  With practiced swiftness, my covers were thrown off my body and
tangled at my feet.  While I was waiting to cool down, I made up an alternate
good ending to my dream.  I needed my sleep and wasn't going to let a nightmare
stop me.  The sweat passed, and I pulled up my covers.  I lay back thinking of
good things, and just as I was falling asleep I heard a familiar voice.

"Cin,
save me."

I
was under the control of the sheep count and could only groggily answer back,
"Michael, I’m on my way."

~

When
Harry played a part, he played it well.  The next morning he had an elaborate
breakfast set up out on the pool deck.  It was a far cry from my normal Irish
oatmeal, raisins and brown sugar.  He had croissants and berries for us to
piece on while he took our omelet orders.  Harry made coffee for Diane and a
pot of tea for me.  Fortunately, Diane wasn't a morning talker, and I was able
to enjoy my meal in peace.  My son Alex takes after me.  He refuses to
communicate until after he is fed, washed and dressed.  A series of grunts was
all you could get out of him.  My ex and daughter are happy risers.  Luke even
sang in the shower.   Life cannot be that good at six a.m.

I
decided that the best course of action was to grill Diane with questions.  It
would be nice for the shoe to be on the other foot for a change.  I asked her
to meet me in the den after she had finished her meal.

Harry
sat next to me, pen and pad ready.  He was very quiet today, which was
understandable as threats of death usually do subdue him for a while.

"Diane,
what I would like to do is get as much information from you as I can," I
began in a very business-like manner.

"But
I don't know anything," she protested.

"Yes
you do."  I sat straighter in my chair.  "You know things like: where
does Michael work and who does he work for?"

"The
church I imagine.  He's a priest."

"I
think that has been established, but what Harry and I need is who, what and
where.  Did he give you an emergency telephone number?  Does he live with you,
alone or in a..."

"Convent,"
Harry supplied.

"Convents
are for nuns."  I lifted an eyebrow as to say “dork”.  I continued,
"Parish house?  My knowledge of Catholics is limited."

"I
usually can get a hold of him on his cell, and before you ask, he hasn't
answered in days.  He lives in an apartment over my garage when he’s in town. 
He travels the world when necessary, but then he gives me an itinerary." 
Diane looked at her nails, reached into her pocket and produced a nail file and
began grooming.

“He
went into seclusion after being shot.  Are you sure he's not in seclusion or on
a retreat now?"

"Honestly,
he would have told me.  He told me he was coming here."  She blew the sand
papered nail dust from her hand.

"I
think, Harry, you would agree with me that we have to find the start of the
trail before we can follow it or, in this case, him.  I’m going to need access
to his, er, digs at your home.  Also I need the number to his advisor in
Ireland.  Harry and I will drive up as soon as I get someone to watch the house
here."  I paused to see how Diane was taking this.

"Sounds
plausible, but wouldn't it be better to fly?"

"Diane,
we would have to land in Atlanta and transfer to Savannah and then rent a car. 
It would take hours, might as well drive."

"Darling,
why not just join me on my jet.  Didn't Harry tell you?"  She looked at me
as if I was an idiot.

Her
own jet?  I had forgotten that she was a big player in the business world.
"Frankly, there is a lot Harry hasn't told me, but he will."  I
looked over at him, and he just smiled a weak smile.

"So,
I take it you’re going to find him."

"I,
excuse me, we, are going to do our best."  I stood up and concluded the
first meeting of the “We don't know what the hell we’re doing” consulting
agency.

~

I
called Luke's cell phone and let him know, via voice mail, that I was running
away to Savannah with Harry, please keep an eye on the house.  Noelle and Alex
would have to learn of their mother's defection from my ex.

I
was trying to fit all my clothes and shoes in my small suitcase when Harry
breezed in.

"You’re
not packed yet?  We're only going to be gone a day, two at tops."  He
started lifting my clothes, looking at my choices.  "Why so many
shoes?"

"I
seem to have a problem with keeping shoes when I travel."  Actually I
tended to lose them when I was running into or from murderers, but I didn't
feel I had to explain myself further.

"All
that isn't going to fit into that bag.  Why don't you take that small duffle
along?  That way your clothes won't get crushed."  He already had his head
in my closet looking for a bag.

"Okay,
okay."  I looked at my watch.  The limo was going to be here any minute,
and I still had some papers to get together.  "I'll tell you what.  Why
don't you put half my shoes in the duffle and half in the suitcase while I find
my passport?  I hope you’ve yours because you never know.  You have to think
professionally now."

Harry
patted his jacket pocket.  "All present and accounted for.  Now hurry up,
I don't think Aunt Diane likes to be kept waiting."

"I
don't think you should call her Aunt Diane.  She isn't your aunt," I
hissed at him as I left the room.  I was hoping he would actually listen to me
this time.

~

The
flight was uneventful as most corporate flights go.  Diane's architectural
corporation shared the lease of the jet with another concern she told me
humbly, but still I was impressed.  We were picked up by her driver and whisked
off to downtown Savannah, or more correctly, the riverfront.  I had been to
Savannah several times in the last few years with my husband, before our
divorce, as he went through his recurrent flight training at Flight Safety's
facilities at Savannah airport.  We had stayed in a couple of different hotels
on the river, but this would be my first time entering one of the antebellum
homes that I had seen only from the street side, with the exception of the
founder of the Girl Scouts, Juliette Gordon Low’s home.

Diane's
house was in the same area.  From the street her property had little frontage,
but it more than made up for it in the depth of the lot.  The little apartment
over the garage was an understatement as it had its own balcony and several
sets of casement windows, letting in whatever light that filtered in through
the live oak canopy. 

Harry
and I were shown into the house via the servants' entrance.  It didn't chafe my
pride.  After all, we were getting paid. I maintained my cool indifference,
even though Harry was doing a great impression of a codfish with his mouth
hanging open as he looked around.

"The
kitchen is downstairs and the sole domain of my cook Phyllis.  I suggest you
don't venture there uninvited unless you want to become Sunday's roast,"
Diane explained.  "This entry is most convenient as the back stairs have a
direct route to your accommodations."  She directed us up the stairs with
a sweep of her hand.  "Betty will meet you upstairs and show you your
rooms.  Perhaps after you freshen up you will join me in the drawing room for a
confab."

Harry
started pounding up the stairs and stopped suddenly, causing me to run right
into him.

"Cin,"
he whispered.  "What's a confab?"

I
almost told him the truth that it was an informal chat/conversation but that
wouldn't have been any fun.  "It’s raw garden snails, a delicacy here in
Savannah."  I loved the look of distress on his face as I passed him on
the stairs.  "It’s all part of living the high life."

"Ew.
 Do I have to eat one?"

"You
can decline, but it would be rude," I said dismissively over my shoulder.  Clearly
he was in distress, and I loved it.  I came to a landing of sorts and stopped
short of colliding with a very stout tall woman who nearly filled the hallway.  Her
large moon face looked at me in contempt.

"Betty?"
I asked, my voice squeaking.

"Yes,
Ms. Lathen.  I put you and your son in the south wing."  She held out a
massive arm, which I squeezed by in the direction of the outstretched hand.

"Harry,
get the lead out."  And as he caught up to me I whispered, "How the
hell are we supposed to know where south is inside this house?"

"I'll
go back and ask her if you get me out of having any of those confabs."  He
looked at me with big eyes.

"Deal. 
I guess we could say that you’re allergic to them," I suggested.

He
nodded his head in agreement and walked back to the human wall and used his
charming ways to get more complete directions without making us look too
stupid.  He came back and offered me his arm.

"Two
doors down, we'll find a hallway on the left.  That is the south wing. I guess
from that point we open doors till we find our suitcases."

"My
hero.  I didn't think I could face Betty again.  She looked at me like I was
diseased." I took Harry's arm, and we proceeded to the south wing.

"I
know why Betty hates you."

"Really? 
Why?"

"Servants
gossip and listen at doors, and if Aunt Diane thinks you’re a tempter of
priests…"

"Ouch. 
So my bad press has preceded me."

"Exactly.
 Well, imagine to my surprise, to find out that I'm your son.  I was hoping for
boy toy or is it toy boy?"

"Be
careful or I'll insist you have two helpings of confabs." 

The
first room we came to had Harry's bag in it.  It was a dark room with mahogany
furniture.  Harry walked over to the window and adjusted the plantation
shutters to let in some light.  Seeing that he was settling in, I left him in
search of my room.

When
I entered the room, the first thing I noticed about the décor was an
overabundance of crosses and religious paintings.  Not one surface was bare of
some kind of religious item.  The message couldn't be clearer if garlic hung
from the window casement.  I was sure that Betty had the house's best interest
in mind when she wound a rosary around the door handle but I found it a bit
noisy.

The
room shared a bath with the room next door.  I groaned, realizing Harry was my
bath partner.  It wasn’t that he was messy - actually he is neat as a pin.  He
was, however, a mirror hog.  It took longer for him to get ready in the morning
than our whole household.

I
opened my suitcase and began to unpack.  It wasn't long before I noticed some
things were missing.  I looked around the room for the little bag that Harry
packed for me.  It wasn't there.  Maybe it was placed in Harry's room by
mistake.  After all, it used to be Luke's gym bag and very masculine, I would
have made the same mistake.  I decided to walk through the bath and knock on
Harry's door.  It would save me from the possibility of running into Betty the
house exorcist.

"Harry? 
Knock, knock?"  I tried the door and it was open.  Harry was hanging half
out of his window.  He pulled himself in.

"Just
getting the lay of the land.  What's up?"

"Did
you get my gym bag by mistake?"

"No,
it isn't in here.  Maybe it’s still in the limo or the plane?"  He
shrugged his shoulders.  "I wouldn't worry.  It'll turn up."

"It's
a problem."

"Christ,
Cin, it’s only shoes," he said irritated.

"Would
you mind coming in my room for a minute?"  I didn't wait for an answer.  I
walked back through the bath to my room.  "Come on."  Harry followed
me and got two feet in the door before he started crossing himself.

"Wicked
use of the icons."

"Never
mind that, remember what I asked you to do with my shoes?"

"Pack
half in the suitcase and half in the gym bag.  Why?"

"Horrible
Harry, you packed just the right shoes in the suitcase!"