The Cin Fin-Lathen Mysteries 1-3 (56 page)

"I
thought he was a researcher," I said dryly.

"Research,
yes, and a little more.  But I digress, I suggested that Father Peter confess
to Father Michael and let Michael decide what to do next.  They left Lucy's for
a while - don't ask me where they went - but when they came back Father Michael
was very concerned.  We continued our evening as if nothing had happened and we
left.  I to here, David and Paul to their posts, and Peter, I assumed, went
back to Florida."

"Father
Michael?"

"I
don't know.  But I did get an interesting flyer in the mail."  He walked
over to the kitchen cabinets and pushed on a trim board and a space opened.  He
drew out another gun, set it down and then an envelope.  He handed it to me.

I
opened the envelope and pulled out a brightly colored piece of paper.  My
intake of breath was so sharp that it hurt the back of my throat. I held one of
the toy drive flyers that Dwayne was passing out just yesterday evening at band
practice.

"When
did you get this?" I asked.

"It
was in this morning’s mail. Why?"

I
explained to the group how and when I had received one of those flyers.

"Do
you think this Dwayne is involved?" Harry asked.

"Involved? 
We don't even know what there is to be involved in. As far as I know, Dwayne
Bradley has been in charge of this toy drive for the migrant children's
Christmas for as far back as I have been in the band. But if this toy drive has
anything to do with Father Michael's disappearance, I may have a way in."

"How?"
Father David asked.

"I
already volunteered."

As
Harry and I drove south through the night, I went over the evening's events.  After
agreeing that Harry and I needed to leave right away and not endanger Diane or
her household by returning to collect our things and make explanations, Betty
got on the phone and made arrangements for a rental car to be waiting for us at
the Marriott hotel.  We would just have to figure out a way to get there
without being seen.  That left out calling a cab as Harry's pursuers, whoever
they were, might be lurking the streets where they lost his trail.

Father
David suggested we go with him to the church, and he would drive us over in the
day school bus.  Harry would have to be disguised, and that was quickly brought
about.  I looked over at Harry as he slept and wondered if he liked wearing a
nun's habit.  He not only looked the part, but he also looked good.  So Sister
Harriett and I followed Father David through his backyard and into the church. 
Betty thought it would be better if she waited until he returned to leave, just
in case people put her and me together that evening.  She was, after all, hard
to miss.

Harry
murmured something in his sleep, and I hoped it was a nightmare.  Look at the
nightmare he had gotten us into.  Wait, maybe that wasn't fair.  Father Michael
was my friend.  Harry never even met him.  I adjusted the crystal wand 
necklace.  I wasn't getting a conscience was I?

We
had gotten to the hotel without a snag.  A nice, clean Ford Focus was waiting
for us.  Betty had requested something understated so we wouldn't cause a stir
as we left the now sleeping Savannah.  I opted to drive first.  Harry had a
lead foot, and driving in Georgia at night, one would have to be diligent to
the speed limit as the state police weren't to be trifled with.

My
cell phone vibrated in my pocket, which always surprised me. I reached for it
and quietly said hello.

"Just
what in hell's name are you doing?" the cold voice of Diane Williams
asked.

"Have
you talked to Betty yet?" I said, steeling my voice word by word until I
had almost convinced myself I wasn't scared of her.

"No.
 She came in a few minutes ago dressed like God knows what and said for me to
hold tight till she got showered."  Diane's irritation was very evident.

"Talk
to her first and then call me back."  I triumphantly hung up on her.

"Who
was that?" a sleepy Harry asked.

"Aunt
Diane."

"Oh,
is..."

"She's
pissed," I said simply.

"Speaking
of piss, I gotta go."  Harry smiled.

"Oh,
hmmm, that presents a bit of a problem."

"Why?"

"Do
you piss as Sister Harriett or as yourself?" I said and picked up the
corner of his wimple for emphasis.

"Do
you think we’re being followed?" Harry said looking in the right side
mirror.

"I
don't know, but I think we should act as if we are."

"That
means..."

"It
means that when I reach a place that is still open, probably a Cracker Barrel
or a McDonald's, you will have to go as Sister Harriett.  That means you sit
down in the stall.  You wash your hands after and don't speak to anyone."

"Vow
of silence." Harry nodded.

I
turned on the overhead light and examined his skin.  Sister Harriett had a bit
of a five o'clock shadow showing.  I flipped it back off and concentrated on
the road ahead of me.  We lucked out and the next exit had a truck stop.  Harry
navigated the restroom while I gassed up the car.  I walked in to pay and added
several items of the caffeine and the junk food variety to my bill.  Harry
delicately breezed by me and got in the driver's seat. I have a problem with
giving up control of the wheel to anyone and especially to Harry.  But I didn't
think that arguing with a nun under the strong lights of the pump area was a
real good idea.  Plus, I expected a call soon from Diane, and I didn't really
need the distraction of driving getting in the way of my explanation.

Harry
started the car, and we headed back for the highway.  I had to point out that
it would be best if we didn't go north, Florida being in its usual position
south of Georgia.  We had been driving for a couple of miles and Harry was
still fidgeting in his seat.

"What's
the matter?  Pantyhose in a bunch?" I asked sweetly.

"No. 
I’m not wearing pantyhose.  I have on my jeans with the legs rolled up. It's
just..."

"Just
what?"

"This."
Harry reached under his habit and dug into his back and unceremoniously pulled
out a gun and dropped it in my lap.

"What
the hell is this!" I shouted.

"A
gun."

"I
know it is a gun you freaking idiot.  What are you doing with it?"  I
wouldn't even touch it.  It lay there in my lap, dull and black.  I had never
touched a handgun in my life.  I can shoot a BB gun and had fired a shotgun
several times in my youth, but that was at a rifle range and I only did it to
impress a boy.  I kept screaming Irish cuss words in my head.  I was faintly
aware of some other noise in the car.  It was Harry, talking again.  I hushed
my brain and tried to concentrate on his words.

"Father
David gave it to me."

"Father
David gave you a gun.  Do you know how to use one?"

"No,
but..."

"Why
would you take a gun you don't know how to use?  Plus we’re traveling with a
gun that isn't registered to us."

"I
don't think it's registered to anyone."

"Oh
great, let me correct myself.  An unregistered handgun, that's different,"
I growled at him.  "Did you ever think if we got pulled over by Georgia's
finest, having an unregistered firearm in the car - not to mention you’re in a
nun's habit, rolled up blue jeans aside - what they would to do to us?"

"No,
but..."

"But
what?"

Harry
gestured out the window, and Florida welcomed us from a billboard and asked us
to drive safely.  "We aren't in Georgia now."

"I
hate to crush your point here, but we have just now taken an unregistered
firearm across state lines."  I poked at it with my finger.  "I guess
this has a safety?"

"Father
David showed me how to take it off safety, and I think he put it back on."

"You
think!" I realized I was still shouting at him.  I quieted down. I took
off my seat belt and reclined my seat as far as it would go.  I climbed into
the back and released the locks on the back seat.  I lowered the seat and
placed the gun in the trunk.  Before I moved the seat back, Harry jiggled
around some more, reached back and handed me a small package.

"What's
this?" I felt the weight of the package and didn't want to open it.

"Bullets."

"Do
you even know how to load this gun, let alone fire it?" I said acidly.

"No,
but..."

"You’re
full of buts aren't you?  Go on."

"What
I was trying to say is, I can learn all about it on the Internet," Harry
said simply.  "Are you finished back there?  Because you’re making me
nervous."

I
pushed the seat back, climbed up front and moved my seat back into place.  "I'm
making you nervous?" I said and started laughing.  It wasn't good
laughing, it was sad laughing.  I would have gone into sad sobbing if my cell
phone hadn't vibrated just then.  "Harry, this probably is Aunt Diane, and
I don't want to hear a word out of you until I finish this call. 
Understand?"

"Understood,"
Harry sighed.

"Hello,"
I answered the phone.

"Well,
Betty sure had a tale to tell," began Diane.  "I understand you have
a lead."

"Actually
a couple of leads.  I will be running down one as soon as I get back, and I
feel confident that we’re on the right track."

"You
also had a little excitement this evening."

"A
bit.  Diane, because of everything that is going on, would it be possible for
you and your household to vacate for a while?"

"Vacate,
as in run away?" Diane said, and I could here her voice gearing up for a
John Wayne speech.

"No,
vacate as in go to a summer house or vacation.  Basically, I don't feel
comfortable with you being there considering that the garage apartment was
searched recently, and I don't think that they found what they were looking
for."

"Oh,
so you want me to leave my things to the mercy of thugs and hooligans?"

"I
was thinking more of the police, but if you want thugs and..."

"Excuse
me, I do understand you.  Betty and I will make arrangements.  Shall I come
down..."

"No! 
I mean not yet."  I rolled my eyes at my lack of tact.  "I don't
think it’s a good idea loading the area with Williamses when one may just be
undercover.  It would send a signal that we’re on to them before we know who
and what
them
is."

"Fine,
you will keep in touch.  Use my cell phone number.  I gave it to Harry when I
was down.

"Wait,
hold on."  I looked at Harry.  "Do you have Diane's cell
number?"  Harry just nodded, keeping to our agreement of not talking. 
"Yes, he has it.  Give me a day or so to get into this.  I will report as
soon as I have anything." 

She
ended the call, and I put my phone back into my pocket.  I took inventory of
what else I had in there.  My wallet was housed in the outside pocket of the
jean jacket.  I had left my passport with my luggage at the Williams’ house.  I
had the pages from Michael's diary stuffed in my back pants pocket, and nestled
snuggly in my front pocket was a bag of marbles and four precious little
stones.  So, I couldn't leave the country because of a lack of passport, and I
was traveling across state lines with an unregistered firearm and possibly
stolen diamonds.  Not exactly fodder for good dreams, but my eyelids were
drooping.  So I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

Harry and I
arrived in Palm Beach County just after sunrise.  I was still worried about
being followed, so we dropped off the rental and took the shuttle into the
airport.  While I looked in the shops, Harry ducked into a restroom - I
preferred not to know which - and ditched the habit.  We met down at the
cabstand and took a taxi home.

The
two of us were too tired to converse on the way back, and it was only after we
both had showers and mega doses of coffee before we sat down to plan our next
move.

I
retrieved my flyer from my music folder and compared it to the one that was
sent to Father David.  It was identical except for the M that was scrawled on
the bottom.  This probably was how Michael identified himself to Father David. 
I looked at my watch and contemplated calling Dwayne to set up a meeting.  I
ran it by Harry to see what he thought.

"Do
you think this guy has anything to do with Father Michael's
disappearance?"

"I
really don't think so.  Dwayne has been doing this toy drive for the migrant
children for years.  He works for the local government, and they participate in
this every year."

"Okay,
what do migrants or their children have to do with Homeland security?  And
where does Father Peter come into it?"

"I
haven't a clue.  I think maybe I better call and set up a meeting with Dwayne,
and maybe it will answer a couple of questions.  Meanwhile, you track down
Betty and see if she has any further information on where Father Peter has his
parish.  Maybe Father Peter heard a confession of a migrant worker down here.  But
was it a worker at the sugar groves, orange groves, or strawberry farms?  There
is a lot of farming going on down here.  It would help if we could narrow down
the field."

"Gotcha."
Harry started to get up.

"Harry?"

"Yes?"
He sat back down, uneasy.

"Where's
the gun?"

"Safe.
 I was a bit worried when we went into the airport, but we didn't go past a
security checkpoint so I relaxed a bit."

"That's
not an answer.  Where is the gun?"

"In
Alex's room, in the classical guitar case,” he said yawning.

"So
you're alright with planting an unlicensed firearm on my son, your best
friend?"  I drummed my fingers on the table.

"Teach
him to clean his room.  Besides yours and my fingerprints are all over it.  So,
we’re all in this together."  He smiled and got up before I could grab him
and pull him over the table.  "I promise not to do anything stupid with
it."

"I’m
going to keep you to that promise, and, Harry..."

"I
know.  Don't mention it to Luke."

I
nodded and laid my head on the table.  Sleep called to me, but I had a phone
call to make first.  I walked into the den and dialed the number on the flyer.

It
rang through to voice mail, and I left a message for Dwayne to call me.  I
walked down the hall and saw that Harry had barely made it to his bed before
falling asleep.  I removed his shoes and tossed a blanket over him.  I stood
over him a minute and marveled at how innocent he looked when he was sleeping. 
Well you can't tell a book by the cover, isn't that what everyone says?  I
walked to my room and closed the door, kicked off my shoes and crawled under the
covers.

~

The
phone's ring brought me to consciousness.  I reached for it and was greeted by
a happy voice.

"Cin
Fin-Lathen, please."

"This
is she, barely," I said as I sat up.

"This
is Dwayne, you called me."

It
took a few seconds for the fog to clear, but I forced myself to be pleasant. 
"Dwayne!  Thanks for returning my call.  I was thinking of joining you in
your toy drive but wanted some more information."

"Like
where, when and who for?" he asked equally as pleasant.

"More
like the who for?"

"Tell
you what, I’m at work, and I hate to waste the county’s dime.  It would be
better if we could meet, so I could give you some materials in person.  How
does lunch sound?"

"Hmm,
would today be too soon?  The rest of my week is all booked up."

"I’ve
most of the materials in my trunk, always prepared.  Let's meet at O'Shea's
at…  Late would be better, how about one?" Dwayne suggested.

"Sounds
great.  I'll be the tall redhead without the rose."

He
laughed which was a good sign.  Most people don't think I'm funny, just weird.  I
hung up the phone and focused in on the numbers on the clock.  I jumped up and
rushed to the bathroom.  I had just over an hour to clean up and get my behind
to downtown West Palm Beach.

~

I
got to O'Shea's at one and was pleased that the lunch rush was waning so I
could get a table.  I have no objection to sitting at the bar except that it
was difficult to have a conversation without twisting this way and that.  Plus,
I like the idea of not sharing my conversation with the bartender.  I had just
ordered an ice tea when Dwayne walked in.  He caught the waitress and added his
drink order and sat down.

"Ice
tea?  Doesn't seem like you, so I changed it.  Rumor has it that you enjoy a
good Manhattan, and they make an interesting one here with Irish whisky."  Dwayne
settled in and produced a manila envelope stuffed with information.  He pulled
out papers and flyers while explaining what was what.  "This is about the
organization that runs the preschools for the migrant workers' children.  Here
are some pictures of the kids I put together.  Here are some forms for large
donations.  And here is a map that shows where the preschools are
located."

I
opened the map and saw that there were at least ten schools in the south
Florida area.  "Which schools do you… do you personally collect toys
for?"  I was distracted as the largest Manhattan on the rocks I’ve seen in
some time was laid down before me.  The smell of the whisky actually burned my
eyes.  I had teetered off the wagon with the beer I drank in Savannah, and now
it looked as if I was going to hit the pavement.

Dwayne
took his time answering.  He picked up his drink and waited until I picked up
mine and said "Cheers."  He took a long drink and savored the taste,
looking at me as I sipped the potent brew.  "Didn't I tell you?  This is
great."

"It's
good." I agreed and hoped that we would be ordering soon.  I hadn't had
anything to eat since the junk food on the road last night.

"Okay,
the center is over in Hendry County down by the ranches, but I have in the past
only been able to collect enough for the four centers around here."  He
pointed out the schools.  They circled the bottom half of Lake Okeechobee.

"What's
all this?"  I was pointing to the land crisscrossed with canals that
surrounded a few of the schools.

"Sugar
cane fields."

"I
thought cane cutting was automated?  What do they need the migrant workers
for?  I seem to remember that they used to import workers, Jamaicans, to do the
specialized cutting."

Dwayne
took another drink and held up his hand indicating he would answer me. 
"There’s more to growing and harvesting cane that can't be automated.  True,
when they no longer needed the cutters, most of the Jamaican community left,
but the housing is still there.  A good lot of the buildings are being used by
the smaller work force. And of course they were able to pick up some for the
schools."  He pointed out the two schools on the east side of the lake. 
"You should really take a drive out there and take a look for yourself.  I
think you would be impressed."

"So,
this is more than just a toy drive for you?"

"Yes,
I take it very seriously."  He looked me in the eyes.  "Those kids
have a hard life.  Their parents are moved from job to job, and there isn't
much room for them, let alone any toys, on the road.  I just try to give them a
good memory to hold on to."

I
nodded my head and took another sip of my drink.  "Have you had any help
from the religious community?"

"Just
as collection sites.  You start throwing religion at some of these people, and
they’ll stop sending their kids to school."  Dwayne signaled to the
waitress.  She came over and I ordered bangers and mash, hoping the liberal
amount of mashed potatoes would soak up the alcohol so I could walk, not to
mention drive, later.

"Has
anyone else expressed an interest in this toy drive?"  I was hoping this
not too subtle question would slide by.

"You're
the first from the band.  I think you were right that it is a bit too early to
be thinking about Christmas."  He finished his drink and asked me if I
wanted another one before raising his glass to the waitress and signaling just
the one refill.  "Now that I think about it, there was this guy that
hasn't gotten back to me yet."

"Guy,
what guy?"  Oh great I thought, there was no way that was a non-committal
question.

He
didn't seem to notice.  "I talked to this guy who heard about me from
Father Peter over in Hendry county and asked if I wouldn't mind meeting with
him."  Dwayne looked up.  "Ah, here comes our lunch."

I
waited until we had both tucked into our bangers and mash before prompting him
to continue his story.

"So,
did this guy ever show?"

"What
guy?  Oh, sorry, forgot what we were talking about.  I met with him briefly and
gave him some information and set up an appointment to visit one of the
schools.  He said he had a rich aunt who may be interested in a sizable
donation."

"Which
school?"  I tried to look casual, as casual as anyone could shoveling
mashed potatoes into one's mouth.

"I
think it was the one in Pahokee.  It’s the closest to Palm Beach. Shame
really."

"Why?"

"Well,
I don't think that it's our best example.  Don't get me wrong.  The teachers
and facility are great, but the location, well, it’s across from an old sugar
mill town.  People usually equate the neighborhood along with the facilities
when they’re looking to donate.  The mill isn't used anymore, and you know what
Florida does to empty buildings."

"It
overgrows them."

"In
this case, being on a canal to the lake, I fear more than flora is thriving
there."

"Oh,
I see."  I gathered another forkful of potatoes.  "What do you think
of the new music we’re playing?"  I chose to change the subject.  Once
musicians like Dwayne and myself start talking about music, it would fill up
the rest of the lunch conversation, and hopefully, he would remember the
musical conversation more than my less than clever interrogation.

After
bidding goodbye to Dwayne, I was still feeling a bit weak in the knees so I
decided to walk down Clematis Street and look in the stores while time and
digestion sobered me up.  I made a call to Harry, and he said he was in the
middle of something and would call me back.  I walked into the Gap and rummaged
around the sale items and found a couple of things to send my daughter Noelle
in England.  I know they have these stores there, but a gift from home is
always appreciated, especially when it stretches the wardrobe.  By the time I
paid and walked back up the street to my car, I felt sober and clear-headed.  I
was annoyed, however, that Harry hadn't called me back.

I
got into my beautiful little blue car and put the top down.  I would enjoy
Florida sun today.  I put in an old Posies CD and drove leisurely towards home.
 I was lost in my music when a Palm Beach County Sheriff's car passed me.  That
made me think of Dave Buslowski and of the favor he must owe me after saving
his behind in the tunnel.  It wouldn't be a bad idea getting his viewpoint,
with him being a retired CID officer.

I
pulled over into a strip mall parking lot and searched my phone address book
until I found his number.  I dialed it and pulled back out onto the road.

"Buslowski
here," he answered.

"Fin-Lathen
here."

"Oh
shit, how the hell are you?  And what have you done?"

"Gee,
that is some greeting."

“Gee,
Cin, if I didn't know better, I would think you’re calling me to confess to an
illegal action."

"Oh,
you’re so going to get it."  I heard him laughing, and even though there
was more than a kernel of truth in what he was saying, I knew he was teasing
me.

"So,
what can I do for you?" 

"Do
you think you could drop over this evening?  Harry and I’ve something we would
like to run by you."

"It
isn't life insurance or household products is it?"

It
was my turn to laugh.  "Okay, I guess I did sound rather vague.  I would
like to use that brain of yours."

"What's
in it for me?"

"Brownies."

"There
goes the diet.  I'll drop by on my way home, let's say six," he said and
hung up.