Black as Night: A Fairy Tale Retold (28 page)

But just then, Father Bernard came in. “Leon, could you come with me?” he said authoritatively.

“Sure. What’s up?” Leon said.

“I want you to come and greet Brother Jim,” Father Bernard looked at him closely. “This will give you a chance to work on those bad feelings you and I discussed before.”

Knowing exactly what his novice master meant, Leon internally mortified himself and, without a word, followed the priest to the chapel.

As Brother Herman had said, Fathers Francis and Bernard were doing their best to handle their unexpected visitor with as much charity as they could muster. Being older, they had gotten used to the inevitable politics of religious life.

Brother Jim was younger than they were, but a good fifteen years older than any of the novices. He was thick-lipped, paunchy, had fading blond hair, with a sharp nose and heavy eyelids over blue eyes. He smiled and smiled in his polo shirt and casual clothes as his former brothers gave him a tour of their new establishment. He expressed surprise that they had managed to get as much done as they had.

“No offense, Frank,” he said, using Father Francis’ nickname, which Leon knew the older friar detested. “But the opinion in most Church circles was that your new order wouldn’t last a month.” Brother Jim’s perpetual smile broadened. “But you really seem to be almost thriving.” He glanced at Leon, who was standing behind his novice master, but didn’t acknowledge him.

“Much to everyone’s delight, I’m sure,” Father Francis muttered.

Father Bernard, the diplomat, smoothed between them. “Yes, we’re actually surprised ourselves at how well the gamble has been going.” He led the way up the stairs into the vestibule of St. Lawrence Church.

“Gamble? Oh, it was a gamble, all right. Most experienced religious wouldn’t think of setting up a new order with no home, no permission from their superiors, particularly with no funding...” Brother Jim glanced up at the Mary altar, grimaced at the sketches of Brother Herman’s master painting plan, and looked back at the others. “Well, you must enjoy proving everyone wrong.”

Father Bernard seemed poised between two different answers, but Father Francis made no bones about his opinion. “Absolutely!”

Leon hid a smile. He caught a glimpse of Nora in the sacristy, gathering some cleaning materials.

“Humph. What an old-fashioned monstrosity the diocese has saddled you with,” Brother Jim shook his head as they walked down the aisle of the church. He cast a sidelong glance at Father Bernard. “I suppose you’ll be ripping out the altar rail and the fancy doodads on the ceiling, hmm?” He allowed himself a loud, long laugh.

Father Bernard attempted a smile. “Actually, we’ve been given some old statues and candlesticks—we plan to add to the existing interior substantially.” He indicated Brother Herman’s disassembled scaffold. “Herman is planning to redo the areas over the altars with original artwork.”

“I should have guessed,” Jim sighed regretfully. “I suppose he’s still obsessed with Byzantine icons, eh? Poor old Herman. He should have switched rites long ago.”

Father Francis’s smile came across as baring teeth. “I
like
icons.”

For an answer, Jim gave another long laugh as he paced up the aisle to the sanctuary. The other three followed him, a bit anxiously, genuflecting as they came to the tabernacle. Jim apparently did not notice, and made no respectful gesture himself. Instead he wiped his forehead. “Hot in here.”

He examined the tiered marble altar with the air of a connoisseur. “Early twentieth century, very bad. Kind of reminds you of a wedding cake, doesn’t it? Good thing there’s not a lot of gold work on it. Or else you’d have to get this place burglar alarmed, with the neighborhood you live in.”

“We keep the doors locked,” Father Bernard acknowledged. “This church is kept pretty much for private use.”

“And it’s an oven. Personally I can’t survive anywhere in August without air conditioning. Wow. Looks like you had some extensive floor damage repaired,” Jim remarked, glancing around the sanctuary. His heavy eyelids swept over Nora, wearing jeans and red T-shirt, who was scrubbing the sacristy cabinets. “Hello there!” he said heartily.

“Hi,” said Nora, brushing a lock of black hair out of her eyes and picking up her buckets, seeming a bit chary of the visitor. Brother Leon was not surprised when she slipped out the door into the courtyard a moment later. Jim surprised the other friars with a long, low wolf whistle. “My,” he said. “Who’s that?”

“A volunteer,” Father Bernard said. “Nora...and several other lay people have been helping to renovate the men’s residence we are planning here.” His gaze was met by Father Francis, who frowned and shook his head wearily.

“Who gets you the volunteers? I should get them over to our place. All we get are old church ladies taking time off from ‘Bingo.’ Maybe you guys are doing something right, after all.” Jim chuckled, then, seeing the joke was not acknowledged, chose to tease in a soft voice as they walked down the far aisle to the back. “I’m onto you now, Frank. I guess there were other reasons you wanted to get away from the mainstream, eh? Better watch yourself. Lawsuits are flying these days.” He shook his head.

“We live our lives prudently, you can be assured of that,” Father Bernard said, and then seemed to be struck with a sudden inspiration. He went on, “Surely you know of the community’s long-term plans?”

“Plans?” said Jim and Father Francis together. Leon remained quiet.

“Why, the formation of a sister order of nuns,” Father Bernard went on smoothly as they walked up the aisle towards the exit. “We hope to house them in the old grade school building if and when that becomes available. Of course, we’re building the foundation for our future order now.”

Brother Jim was open-mouthed, and Father Francis managed to suppress his stare behind a wry grin.

“Yes, it’s possible that Nora may be our first postulant for the order,” Father Francis forged ahead gruffly. Unsure, he raised a quizzical eyebrow to Leon, who gave his head a tiny shake, no. All of which went unobserved by Brother Jim. “All dependent on the leading of the Holy Spirit, of course,” the head friar added.

“A convent of nuns?” the visiting brother was amazed. “So, Frank, Bernard wasn’t kidding when he told us you had big plans.”

“The Lord has big plans,” Father Francis corrected him as they saw their visitor to the door. “The rest of us are just trying to figure out what He’s got in mind.”

III

When Bear and Fish arrived at the Briers’ house on Saturday morning, they discovered Mrs. Foster was already there with Jean, and so was Charles Russell, who was looking distinctly ill at ease. The two women were sitting on the sofa, watching him sort through his papers. Rose was in the kitchen, setting up a tea tray.

“Charles, thanks so much for coming over,” Fish said as he came in, and extended a hand to the lawyer. “I told Jean you’d be the best person to talk with about this situation.”

“I’m not so sure of that,” the lawyer said doubtfully. “Mrs. Brier tells me that she wants advice about turning over illegal substances that she found in her daughter’s room. She says this has something to do with the case against you.”

“That’s correct,” Bear said.

“Is her daughter still missing?” Mr. Russell looked questioningly at Rose, who gave a small smile as she set down the tea tray.

“Yes, she is. It’s a week today,” Bear said.

“I have to say straight off that it would be a conflict of interest for me or my firm to represent your daughter,” Mr. Russell said to Jean with his usual courtesy. “As I explained before to my clients, if there’s even a slight possibility a court might find your daughter guilty of incriminating the brothers, there would be a conflict of interest for me to represent her.”

“I realized that,” Fish said, sitting down on the edge of the couch. “However, this is a tricky situation, and I want to ask for your advice. I figured you’d be able to tell us how to proceed. And perhaps you could suggest someone who’d be willing to represent them in this matter.”

The lawyer pulled out a legal pad with a suppressed sigh. “Well, perhaps you’d better fill me in on the details.”

Bear and Fish related to the lawyer all they had found out so far, and the lawyer took notes, his brow furrowed. Then he questioned Jean, and then Mrs. Foster, who told about her discovery of the drugs. Mr. Russell went upstairs to see them, then came downstairs and made a confidential call to the city prosecutor’s office, and explained the situation without giving names. Then he called a colleague of his who had experience with drug cases, and asked him to come over. The lawyer arrived after lunch, conferred with Jean and Rose, and agreed to represent Blanche
in absentia
until she was found. Then, after both lawyers had conferred and taken pictures of the drugs, they had Jean call the police. The police sent over a detective and his partner to investigate.

This all took hours, and after a while, Bear started to get antsy. “Do I have to stay around here for all of this?” he asked Fish in a low voice after the police had arrived and were listening to the explanations of Jean and Mrs. Foster. “Can’t you handle this?”

Fish was intent on the proceedings. “I want to make sure that Jean and Rose don’t incur any legal liability for what they’re doing,” he said. “Your presence is helpful in that regard.”

So Bear sat and endured the legal talk for as long as he could, but his mind was elsewhere. To occupy himself, he began to massage the muscles in his upper arm. Last year he had taken a bullet in his arm, and although the wound had healed, it still ached from time to time, particularly when he was tense. He kept checking out the window periodically to see if he could catch any sight of the mysterious man, but the big shadow seemed to have stayed away today.

At last the police detective left, but the lawyers still had more to do. Jean was talking to the other lawyer, and Mr. Russell was talking to Fish.

Bear waited until his brother had paused in conversation. “Can I borrow your cell phone again?”

“No! Buy your own!” Contradicting his words with his actions, Fish slid a hand in his trench coat, handed him the phone, and resumed his conversation.

Bear went into the kitchen, and dialed the number he had gotten from Rita, the waitress.

“Hello, Bear,” said Rita when she answered.

He was momentarily startled, and she said, laughing, “I have caller ID and I recognized the number.”

“Oh. But how did you know to call me Bear?” He could have sworn he had first introduced himself to her as Arthur.

“That’s what Blanche always called you. Hey, I was actually going to call you. I tried before but I guess you had your phone off or something. Your names came up at the hall yesterday.”

“Did they?”

“Yes. Mr. Scarlotti—you met him last time—he’s been telling all the shift managers that Blanche still isn’t above suspicion.”

“Why not?”

“Because the police recovered the money from two guys who were trying to pass off the bills, right? Well, Mr. Scarlotti decided that you and your brother must be the two guys.”

Bear suppressed a snort. “That’s a pretty big leap in logic.”

“You’re telling me. Anyhow, he’s been saying the police were still investigating this matter, and no one from the staff is to talk to Blanche, or you two, if you come around again asking questions. He went on and on about how this might ruin our reputation, blah blah blah.”

“Great,” Bear sighed. “Well, then what I was going to ask you doesn’t apply.”

“Ask me anyhow.”

“I was going to ask you if you could show me the room where the drugs were found.”

“I think I can. Reflections is a pretty big place. I might be able to get you in without anyone noticing.”

“Are you sure? That might cost you your job.”

“Yeah. I figure I owe it to Blanche for not believing her. Besides, the summer’s almost over anyhow.”

Bear was grateful. “Thanks. When will you be at work?”

“Can you meet me there at one? There won’t be so many people around, and maybe Scarlotti won’t be in yet. The other manager is Mr. Carnazzo, but he wasn’t around last time you guys came by, so maybe he won’t recognize you.”

Bear thanked her, hit the end button, and looked around. The police were gone. Mr. Russell, who was apparently finished with his inquiries, was packing up his briefcase. Mrs. Foster and Jean were talking together, looking over a list of phone numbers.

“They’re going to make phone calls again.” Rose looked at the brothers. “What are you two going to do?”

“I’m going back to the banquet hall,” Bear said.

“Can I come with you?” Rose begged. “I just need to go out and do something to help find Blanche!”

Fish opened his mouth to object but Bear, knowing acutely how Rose felt, decided to overrule him. “Sure. Come along.” He got to his feet.

Rose picked up a pink-fringed scarf and slung it around her neck. “Mom, I’m going out with Bear and Fish.” Jean, on the phone, nodded and waved.

“Do you have Fish’s cell number if you need to reach us?” Bear asked Mrs. Foster, who nodded.

“How can you wear a scarf in this heat?” Fish asked Rose as they walked outside.