Third Half (14 page)

Third Half  
–
    P.R. Garlick

CHAPTER SIX

             
"Come along outside to the playground," Luke said as he
guided her from the main part of the building.  "I think you'll enjoy
watching the children play.  It's always a lift to see these children
laughing and happy.  The Sisters here do their best to keep them that
way, but considering the turmoil in their young lives, it's often a
difficult task."

             
She walked around a few moments before stooping down to
look at the bruised knee of a little girl who had fallen.  She was just
about to get up when she felt a light tap on her shoulder.

             
When she turned, the glare of the sunlight filled her eyes, but
she could tell she was being examined closely by the child who had
come up behind her.  Shielding her eyes she saw that it was a little
boy about nine or ten years old.  His clothing was torn and dirty,
unlike the neat appearance of the other children at the orphanage.

             
The boy said something in his native language and Liane had
to turn to Luke for a translation.

             
"He seems fascinated by you.  Especially your green eyes.  He
apparently has been watching you since we arrived.  He'd like to see
what color hair you have."

             
"Ask him why?"  She said, unsure whether she dared hope at
his reason.

             
Luke laughed when he heard the boy's reply.  "He wants to see
if you have hair that looks like fire.  Red hair."

             
"Jack!" she gasped.  Although they were not identical, their
eye-color and facial features were very much the same.  It was the hair
that made Jack different.  His was red.

             
"Luke, please tell him my hair is blonde, but find out if he's
seen a man who looks very much like me.  A man who has red hair. 
He'd be taller, but looks very much like me."  Her blood raced as she
waited.

             
Luke repeated her words in the boy's native tongue.  The boy
replied, then when Luke said something else he suddenly frowned and
ran away.

             
"Wait!"  Liane called, but it was too late.  He had jumped the
stone wall encircling the playground and was already out of sight.

             
"What did he say?"  She turned to face Luke.

             
"He said you look like Father John who sometimes visits his
village.  I asked him where that was, and as you saw, he took off like a
scared rabbit."

             
"Damn!"  She stopped and looked up at Luke with regret.  "I'm
sorry." She bowed her head and walked past him toward the building.

             
"Sister Mary Catherine," he called after her.  "I think it's time
we talked.  You can't keep all this to yourself.  And I know there's
more to your problem than you've told me."

             
"All right . . ." A long tired sigh escaped her lips. "But first I
have to find out about that boy. I want to know where he came from."

             
"Anyone can see how upset you are right now.  Go out to the
car and I'll talk to the Sisters and find out what I can."  Luke's firmly
issued order left no room for debate. 

             
"And Mary Catherine," he added.,  "Remember what I said
about being a friend to those kids on the beach.  It goes for other lost
persons, too."
             

             
"Thanks," she said softly, forcing a smile before going through
the gate and walking around the building toward the car.  At the
moment she did feel very lost.  Very confused.

I

             
"Wow!  What a mess," Luke said as they sat on a bench near
the Smith home.  Once he had heard part of Liane's story, he pulled
off the road so they could talk more freely.  "I suspected you weren't
really a nun.  But never all this."

             
"How did you know?"

             
"A clue or two."  He laughed and lifted her arm. "May I see the
time?" he asked.  "Lovely watch, was it a gift?"

             
"Oh no . . ." She sighed, remembering the glittering gold and
diamond design of the watch Jack had given her on their last birthday. 
It was hardly something a nun would wear.  He had given Mary
Catherine an exquisite leather-bound book of poetry.

             
"A few other things gave you away too.  But they really don't
matter now.  We have to decide what we'll do next."

             
She hadn't told him about the money or her brother's secret
room.  But this time she withheld the information because she was
afraid for his safety if he knew too much.  She didn't want anyone else
hurt, and the more she learned, the more she suspected they could be. 

             
"Luke, I don't think there is a
we.  I have to handle this alone. 
But you can help by not telling anyone what I've told you.  At least not
unless . . .well, unless you have to."

             
He scratched his blond head.  "As a priest I am bound to keep
confessions confidential.  I could consider this one."

             
"It certainly was that!  But what will happen when you return
to the mission without Sister Mary Catherine?"

             
"I thought I'd prolong my visit and send a message along that
we were unavoidably delayed."  He smiled. "That should give me time
to think up a better story."

             
"I can't involve you in this."

             
"I'd say I am already involved."

             
"No Luke, I mean it.  There's been one murder already
–
and
by the way
–
thank you for believing me when I told you I didn't do
it."

             
"I think I'm a pretty good judge of character." He got up and
pulled her with him.  "Come on, let's get back to Paul and Carla's. 
We'll decide what to do later."

             
When they returned to the house, they found Maria waiting. 
The young waitress had been there since early in the morning.  By
now she could hardly contain herself as she saw Liane entering the
house.
             

             
"She won't tell me what's going on." Carla shrugged when she
explained, obviously surprised that her friend, this time, would not
confide in her.  "She said it has to do with your brother.  That was all. 
But she's very upset."

             
Liane looked at Luke, not needing to ask as he smiled and
turned to Carla.  "Let's leave them alone for awhile."

             
Maria explained that she had overheard the manager making a
telephone call late the previous night.  When she heard him mention
the name Spence Jackson, she'd listened in on another extension to
what he said.

             
"He does not like Spence," Maria explained.  "He is jealous
because of the beautiful woman who comes to his show.  She always
asks Spence to sing a request just for her.  When he does, Ricardo gets
furious because it is always a love ballad.  I get furious, too," the girl
admitted, her dark eyes ablaze with unconcealed jealousy.  "Because I
think she would like Spence to do more than sing to her."

             
"Who did Ricardo call?"

             
"I believe it was the owner of the
Conquistador
, because they
discussed the show.  But they also discussed you."

             
"Me?"  Liane looked up, not totally surprised to find that she
had left an impression on the manager.  "What else did they say?"
             

             
"Ricardo wanted to replace Spence, but the owner did not."

             
"Who is the owner of the
Conquistador?
"

             
"No one knows, except Ricardo," the girl replied. "He's
supposed to be a rich investor and likes to remain unseen."

             
"Yet, he still calls the shots."

             
"What?"

             
Liane smiled.  "I mean, Ricardo still has to go to him for
permission to do things."

             
"Only for this.  Ricardo has full control over everything else."

             
Liane thought this seemed strange, but didn't say as much. "So
I take it Ricardo lost the argument.  But why are they certain my
brother will show up this weekend?"

             
"They are not.  The owner did tell Ricardo he could book
another act in case Spence did not come.  But only if he does not
come."

             
"Another act . . ." Liane thought a moment, a slow smile
spread across her lips.  "Maybe a female singer?"

             
"Ricardo would like that.  Do you know of someone?"

             
"Yes . . . I do." She nodded. "Me."

             
Maria's eyes grew wide in astonishment.  "Oh no, Sister.  He
will not want you.  Ricardo is a . . .a . . .playboy.  That is what Spence
calls him.  He will want someone he can . . .well, you know."  Maria's
cheeks turned red as she lowered her eyes.

             
"Yes I know, but
I want to get some more information out of
Ricardo."

             
"He is not a religious man.  He won't tell you anything just
because you are a Sister."

             
"What if I'm not a nun?"

             
Maria smiled.  "I think I see what you are meaning.  It could
work if he didn't look too closely at your face when you spoke to him
last night."

             
"My guess is, that once he saw what I was wearing, the face
didn't matter."

             
"But what about . . .I mean, he is a very persuasive man."

             
"I can handle myself," Liane assured her.  "Don't worry. 
What's important is that I find Jack."

             
"Jack," the girl repeated, her expression puzzled.  "You keep
calling him Jack."

             
"Spence is really Jack Spencer," Liane told her. "But it's
probably best that you don't tell anyone until I find out what's going
on."
             

             
"I will do whatever you ask.  I want to help find Spence . . .
Jack.  I'm sorry, it is not easy to change when you have been so close to someone . . ."  The girl looked up, a frightened expression on her
young face.  "Maybe you already guessed that he means very much to
me."

             
Liane smiled.  "Yes, I guessed."  Then her smile faded.  "But I
hope for your sake no one else has."

             
"No one knows," she said.  "We meet secretly.  But we never .
. . you know.  He said he would not take advantage of me."

             
Liane thought of how much her brother enjoyed the opposite
sex and wondered if Maria was  just as special to him as he obviously
was to her.