Part 39 (1/2)
Her outfit was even more austere than usual, just a simple dark dress with a modest V-neck. No scarf or jewelry, and her hair was sc.r.a.ped back severely from her face. Her settled expression of resigned unhappiness made her look mysterious and vaguely tragic, rather than sour and embittered even though, in reality, I believed it had turned her into a devious and demented killer.
The rest of the women here were well-dressed, well-coiffed, wearing makeup, and gaily accessorized . . . and yet it was Elena's stark, still beauty that attracted the eye in this chatting, giggling, fluttering throng. The good light in this meeting room made her true age-early to mid-fifties, I a.s.sumed-more readily apparent to me than it had been the first time I met her. The naked skin of her throat and the creased corners of her eyes revealed her years today. But she still wore time very well.
I checked my watch. Lucky and Max should be in her apartment right now. I counted on Max to convince Lucky that the evidence they found there was d.a.m.ning and the widow must be stopped.
”Esther?”
”Huh!” I jumped.
”Did I startle you?” Father Gabriel asked. ”I'm sorry.”
”Oh! Uh, no.” I pulled myself together and met the priest's luminous brown gaze. ”I was lost in thought, that's all. How are you, Father?”
”I'm delighted to welcome you to St. Monica's once again.” He smiled warmly as he shook my hand.
I had showered and tidied up at Max's before coming to the church, but I was still wearing my black knit dress from yesterday, and it was the worse for wear by now. I saw the priest's nostrils quiver slightly as he got a good whiff of Nelli.
”Sorry,” I said. ”I was, uh, playing with a friend's dog before I came here.”
”I'm more of a cat person.” He smiled and added, ”It's wonderful to see you taking such an interest in our crumbling old church! Is your interest in this meeting architectural? Or dare I hope that our congregation holds some spiritual attraction for you?”
”I . . .”
I thought my mother's soul would abandon her body in Wisconsin and fly to New York to tear my tongue out of my mouth if I claimed to be thinking about converting. But I was spared the need to pretend a pa.s.sion for architecture. We were interrupted without apology by a middle-aged woman whose hair was a shade of blond that had no equivalent in nature. She grasped Father Gabriel's arm, cooed his name, and dragged him away from me as she flirted outrageously and invited him to Sunday dinner at her house. I wondered whether her husband would be present for the meal.
As I had noticed once before, many of the women here seemed to be dressed for a hot date rather than for church. Their eyes followed the handsome priest with enthralled interest, and a number of them were openly competing for his attention.
How ironic that a man with such s.e.x appeal had chosen a celibate vocation. I was glad that Lopez hadn't done the same, even though his being a cop was, once again, proving to be very inconvenient. As well as dangerous.
As I watched Father Gabriel deflecting subtle and not so subtle advances from these women with courteous skill, I wondered at the level of spiritual commitment that had led him away from the temptations of the opposite s.e.x and the pleasures of marriage to dedicate himself to a solitary life of wors.h.i.+p and devotion.
Realizing I was hungry, I crossed the room to examine the selection of cakes and little sandwiches that had been provided for the attendees. I was perusing the food with interest when my cell phone rang. The caller was Lucky.
”h.e.l.lo?”
”Hey, you was supposed to warn us if she left the church,” he snapped at me. ”What gives? Did she never show up there, or something?”
”Huh?”
”We were only in her place for maybe ten minutes when she walked in on us,” Lucky said angrily.
”What?”
”Talk about embarra.s.sing. Max did his best to talk our way out of it, but I won't be surprised if she calls the cops and files a complaint. She was real mad.”
I felt my eyes grow wide with horror as I stared at the widow, who stood about fifteen feet away from me. ”You . . . you . . . she . . .”
”Anyhow, the job is done. Her apartment is tiny. She ain't makin' any doppelgangsters there unless they're the size of mice. We were practically finished lookin' around anyhow, when Elena walked in on us.”
”Lucky,” I choked out.
”So you and Max better be satisfied now is all I'm sayin' about it.”
I turned toward the corner and covered my mouth so I wouldn't be overheard. ”Lucky, she's here.”
”Who's where?”
”The widow,” I said, keeping my voice lowered. ”I'm at St. Monica's. She's here here.”
There was a pause. ”No, she's not. I just left her in her apartment about thirty seconds ago.”
”She's here, I tell you!” I stiffened when I saw someone glance at me. I mustn't attract attention. In particular, I mustn't attract her her attention. attention.
I looked cautiously over my shoulder. I saw her pouring herself a cup of coffee. ”I'm looking at her right now.” Trying to keep my voice steady, I repeated, ”Right now now.”
He sucked in a sharp gasp of breath. ”Holy s.h.i.+t.”
I heard him tell Max, and I heard Max's exclamation of surprise. Then Max took the phone from Lucky and spoke to me.
”You're still at St. Monica's?” he asked.
”Yes. Where are you?”
”Right outside the widow's apartment building.”
”You just just saw her?” I asked, wanting to be absolutely sure. ”Just now?” saw her?” I asked, wanting to be absolutely sure. ”Just now?”
”Only moments ago.”
”Holy s.h.i.+t,” I said.
An older lady standing nearby flinched at my language, then moved quickly away from me.
”You're looking at her right now?” Max asked. ”This moment?”
”Yep.”
”Have you got your knife with you? The one that Lucky gave you yesterday?”
I realized what he was about to suggest. I turned back to the corner, covered my mouth, and said as quietly as possible, ”Max, I can't do that! There are lots of people here.”
Unfortunately, Max had left Nelli at home. Since we thought Elena was the killer, it hadn't occurred to us that we might have to identify her doppelgangster today. And Nelli wasn't exactly an inconspicuous companion to take along for the stealthy search of a city apartment.
”Given the widow's reaction to finding us in her home after we had broken in,” Max said, ”I would rather not return now and pierce her skin, if there's any possible away of avoiding it. I fear that such a confrontation will unavoidably result in an unfortunate interview with the authorities.”
”Well, there's probably also going to be an 'unfortunate interview' if I do this in front of thirty witnesses,” I argued.