Meanwhile Alec had finished his call, and said,“I better handle this personally. Blake is an old friend.” He dragged the back of his hand across his brow. “I hate this. Having to tell a man that he has to bury his kid a second time.” He turned to Chase. “What did Dolores want?”
“She just got a call from Marcie Trapper. She’s with Marigold Church. Her daughter Angel went missing last night and they think she might have drunkenly stumbled into a pond in Bickersfield woods. They’re asking to send a diver to dredge the pond.”
“Marigold Church, huh?” said Uncle Alec. “Did she make the call?”
“No, Marcie did. But Marigold is with her, and so is Ted, along with two dogs and five cats. Apparently she felt it was important to relay this information when she called 911.”
“Two dogs and five cats? That sounds like the setup for a joke.”
“You sounded surprised when Chase mentioned Marigold Church,” said Odelia.
“Oh, Marigold and I go back a long way,” said the Chief. “Only she hasn’t spoken to me for, what, twenty years now? She swore a solemn oath never to contact the police as long as I was in charge. So this thing with Angel must be serious.”
“But why hasn’t she spoken to you?”
“It’s a long story,” said her uncle evasively. He started to walk away. “Keep me informed, will you?”
“Will do, Chief,” said Odelia’s husband. “So let’s see what’s going on with this Angel Church,” said Chase. “And what your cats have been up to!”
11
Vesta had been playing online Scrabble again, which was one of her favorite pastimes when seated at her desk at the doctor’s office, when suddenly a very distressed-looking Francis Reilly walked in, and made a beeline for her. He quickly glanced at the waiting patients, then lowered his voice and said, “Vesta, I need to talk to you.”
“I know. That’s what you said on the phone, remember?”
“Not here,” he practically whispered, and she frowned.
“Look, if you want to confess you need to make an appointment,” she said jokingly.
“Vesta, please!” he implored. For the first time she looked up from her computer and saw that the priest looked extremely perturbed. In fact it wasn’t too much to say that he was suffering from a crisis of conscience.
“All right,” she said, “follow me.” She took the door that led to the kitchen and the aged priest followed, carefully closing the door so those nosy parkers in the waiting room wouldn’t overhear them. Once in the kitchen, Vesta poured herself a cup of coffee and said, “Spill. What’s got you in a tizzy all of a sudden?”
“The thing is… Angel’s missing,” said Francis, who was pacing the floor, hands behind his back. Then abruptly he stopped and looked up with a look of anguish. “And it’s my fault!”
Vesta frowned.“Angel as in the daughter of your Marigold Angel?”
Francis nodded.“She went out last night and never arrived home. Marigold is frantic with worry, and is organizing a search party as we speak.”
“Gee, Francis, that’s terrible.”
“They traced her to a pond in Bickersfield woods, and a diver has come out to dredge the pond.”
“They actually think she might have…”
“Stumbled in and drowned, yes.”
“And you think this was your fault?”
The white-haired priest closed his eyes as if to direct a little prayer to the Lord above and give him strength.“Angel and I got into a terrible fight yesterday afternoon. I won’t bore you with the details, but it was horrible. She actually…” He choked for a moment, then collected himself. “She threatened to run away from home and never come back.”
“So you think she might have run away, huh?”
“That’s actually what I thought had happened when Marigold told me she couldn’t reach her, but now it would appear she took a wrong turn in the woods and accidentally stumbled into that pond and drowned.” He clasped his hands to his face. “Oh, Vesta, if she’s dead I’ll never forgive myself.”
“Now, look, Francis,” said Vesta, placing a comforting hand on the priest’s arm. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, all right? We don’t know for sure that she’s in that pond. It’s entirely possible that she did run away. Where’s Marigold?”
“Out there, leading the search party. And I know I should be there with her, only…”
“Only you’re afraid you’ll show your true feelings and you can’t have that.”
Francis gave her a look of despair.“This is terrible news, Vesta. If she’s dead the last words I spoke to her was that she should wash out her mouth with soap.”
“Well, that’s not so terrible. There are a lot worse things you could have told her.”
“I think it’s bad enough, considering…”
She nodded. She knew exactly what he meant.“Look, I’ve told you this before, Francis, and I’ll say it again: I think it’s time for you to come clean, and do the right thing by Marigold and Angel both.”
“Don’t you think I know?!” he howled, raising his hands heavenward. “But how can I leave my position? How will I face my parishioners?”
“I think you’ll find that your parishioners are a lot more understanding and a lot more forgiving than you think. And besides, maybe it’s time you retired, and left your position to some young whippersnapper fresh out of the seminary.”
“You think so?” asked Francis. He looked distraught, and it wasn’t hard to see why.
She affectionately patted him on the broad back.“Let’s wait and see what’s going on with Angel first. Maybe she simply decided to stay with a friend—or even a boy. And if it turns out she’s fine, I’ll sit down with the two of you to thresh this thing out.”
“And if she’s in that pond?”
“Then I think you owe it to Marigold to finally make an honest woman of her and get yourself a license to marry, Father Reilly,” she said sternly. “God knows you should have done this twenty years ago, when you first started dating her.”
He gave her a weak smile.“You know that you’re actually the only one who knows about us, Vesta?”
She made a scoffing noise.“That’s what you think.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise.“You mean…”
“I think by now the whole town knows about you and Marigold. The only one who doesn’t have a clue is Angel, so let’s hope she’s all right, and you can finally set the record straight. And now you better get out there, and give Marigold the support she needs.”
“Thanks, Vesta,” said the priest. “Thanks for your wise words.”
And as he hurried out, she was smiling to herself. Wise words, Francis had said. She didn’t know if her words had been particularly wise, but she’d take any compliment she could get. And then she returned to the waiting groom to resume her game of Scrabble, and from time to time pick up the phone and advise her son-in-law’s patients with some more of her particular brand of divine wisdom.
12
“Max?”
“Mh?”
“Why is that man diving into that pond?”
“Because he thinks Angel might be down there, Dooley.”
“But why? Why would she be down there?”
“Because she might have accidentally stumbled in last night when she wasn’t looking, and drowned.”
“Oh,” said my friend, who’s never been one for the unhappy ending. “I hope she’s not in there. That wouldn’t be good.”
“Fifi and Rufus seem to think she is. So it stands to reason that they’re right.”
Fifi and Rufus, who’d done their bit for the good of the expedition, now gratefully accepted cuddles from Ted and Marcie, while Shanille, Harriet and Brutus stood watching the activity of that diver, and discussing his progress.
Marigold, meanwhile, stood talking into her phone, and looking extremely perturbed. Odelia and Chase, who’d arrived very quickly after Marcie had called 911, were searching around for potential clues as to what had happened to the missing girl, and when suddenly another person came crashing through the undergrowth, I wasn’t surprised. The scene was starting to resemble one of those mob scenes, where thousands get together to watch some car crash in progress. I was surprised, though, to find that it was Father Reilly who now stood before us panting a little stertorously after his short ramble through the woods. But I was even more surprised when he walked straight up to Marigold, and they hugged—and not a fatherly hug, either, but more the kind of hug we see Chase and Odelia exchange all the time.