The Labyrinth of Blue Towers:
The Disappearance of Jack Arneson
(A Sewing Box Mystery)
Chapter 1: Friday, June 10, 2011, 7:21 pm
Chapter 2: Saturday, June 11, 2011, 8:38 am
Chapter 3: Thursday, June 28, 1984, 10:10 am
Chapter 12: Saturday, June 18, 2011, 8:00 am
The car ambled slowly towards the next block. There was no need to hurry, because just as Sam had promised, there was no traffic. The block appeared typical of ones found in the downtowns of many Midwestern small towns. The first block featured a series of tall, brick buildings built in the early 1900's. The main floors of these structures housed various businesses while the upper floors were rented out as apartments. On the corner, to the women’s immediate right was a Ben Franklin. The old five and dime store looked antiquated and sleepy. Jeanette’s eyes grew large upon spotting it. “Oh, look! A Ben Franklin! Pull over.”
Missy did as ordered. Her aunt enthused, “You have no idea how many afternoons I used spend in one of those; stealing penny candy and flipping through the album bins. I’d spend my whole allowance on nothing but 45’s and Necco Wafers.” She laughed at the memory and confessed, “I used to buy Necco Wafers because even though I didn't like them very much I was convinced that because they were wafers they were like diet candy. Yeah—that didn’t work out too well, now did it? Can we stop?”
Missy looked askance at her aunt. “You do realize they no longer sell 45’s or LPs, right?”
Jeanette rolled her eyes. "Of course I know that. I didn’t just come out of a coma. Jeeze. Oh, never mind.” Then, after a brief pause, like a sulky child she groused, “You know, it’s not just 45’s and albums. They also used to carry all sorts of odd stuff. A bin of rubbery, squiggly monsters with suction cups on the bottom would sit right next to one full of multi-colored pipe cleaners for craft projects You could buy bags of red feathers and angel wings. It was such a magical place You could just lose yourself in it.”
Sensing Jeanette’s need for nostalgia. Missy relented “We’ll stop later, okay? I promise.” And then, switching focus she added, "Hey, check out the windows across the street and let's do the time warp again ”
Across the street from the Ben Franklin stood two generic looking clothing stores; one selling women’s clothing, the other men's. Both shops belonged to the same family, their name, the Bainbridges, proudly displayed on the edge of each store’s awning. The windows displayed rather dated mannequins dressed in the most rudimentary of fashions. Had Missy passed by such a sight in Minneapolis she would have assumed the stores were either part of a movie set or served as fronts for an organized crime family.
At the end of the block, next to the men's store sat a barber shop. One could easily tell because jutting from a corner of the building was a traditional barber’s pole spinning in a giant glass tube Mayberry RFD style. A stoic looking hardware store, bearing the name Dodds, stood next to the Ben Franklin. In front of the store, protected by an awning, sat a number of pieces of lawn and garden machinery: a tiller, several lawn mowers, a lawn sweeper, and the like. None of the items appeared to be secured in any manner. Apparently theft was not a big concern for local merchants.
Next to the hardware store, on the corner across from the barber shop, was a large, imposing building, clearly from an earlier era than the other buildings on the block. Made of a reddish, clay-colored stone, the entrance featured an archway and had an actual cone-topped spire on one corner. The only way to determine that it was a drug store was the gold gilt lettering on the large arched window and a tiny oval sign that hung from a wrought iron bracket over the main entry declaring it as such.
Missy, drawn to the last building, pulled the car from the curb in front of the Ben Franklin to park in front of it. “Wow,” she cooed, ducking her head in order to get a better look from inside the car. “Is that impressive! Look at the stonework. Isn’t it amazing? I mean, they don’t build anything even close to that these days. It must have taken forever to build. I can’t imagine how they did it.”
But Jeanette’s eyes seemed fixated on something further down the road “If you think that's impressive, get a gander of what’s up ahead.”
There, on the horizon, rose what appeared to be a strange, meandering castle of sorts. It looked as if someone had studied medieval architecture, taken all of its elements and thrown them into a blender. Even from that great distance Missy could tell that the structure was completely out of scale for such a small town. “That must be the town hall Sam was talking about.”
Without peeling her eyes from the building, Jeanette gave the order, “Let’s go.”
The women tried to speed past the sights and buildings on the next block, but found themselves slowing down to gape none the less. On one side there was a community park, on the other, a movie theatre and bank. Each seemed so unbelievably tied to another era they couldn’t help but pause and stare. The park looked eerily picture perfect, with its white lattice-work gazebos, ornate fountains, statues and band shell. Across the street, a smart art deco movie theatre in cool hues of teal and white stood in stark contrast to the 1890’s feel of the park. On the corner, next to the movie theatre, a tall bank, its sculpted facade forbidding and austere.
Jeanette gawked like a country mouse visiting the city for the first time. “Will you look at that?”
Missy shared her aunt’s desire to explore, but felt something more pressing lie directly ahead of them. “We‘ll have to come back. And we will. I'm sure there’ll be time later.”
At the end of that block Old Main fed into a road that circled around the entire town hall. This way one was able to get a 360 degree view of the building’s ridiculous, fanciful design.
Towers and turrets, balconies and balustrades, gargoyles and screaming grotesques competed for space, populating the buildings many nooks, niches, and crevices. Windows of all shapes and sizes served as the many eyes of this architectural monstrosity.
After circling the building twice with awe-filled eyes. Missy pulled into a parking lot to the south
“I want to go in.” breathed Jeanette
"Really? Wouldn't you rather get to the Monastery first?” challenged Missy.
“I want to go in.” she repeated.
Missy looked up at the structure and grimaced. It was huge. And if the outside was any indication, then the inside would no doubt take hours to navigate. It was fascinating, to be sure, but was it worth their time now?
“I tell you what,” she negotiated, “Let’s go to the Monastery now, and later, after we have a better idea of whether there’s anything to Grandma's dreams, then we'll come back here and walk around. Cool?”
Jeanette’s shoulders sank in disappointment. “I suppose so”, she grumbled. “But it’s like being given a giant box of chocolates and then being told you can't open it.”
“I get that” assured Missy. “Really I do. But let’s keep in mind what were here for.”
Jeanette let it go with a resigned, “Fine”, but then sunk into another sulk.
Missy decided to ignore the behavior “Come on, let’s press on. We'll get to visit Disneyland another time. Now, which road are we supposed to take? I’m so bad at directions.”
Jeanette begrudgingly offered. “The old guy said something about going northeast."
“Which way is northeast?”
“How should I know? Do I look like a Girl Scout?”
Missy took a firm look at her aunt. Someone’s blood sugar was going haywire, she guessed. “Well, let’s circle back to the front of the building. I think he said it’s off to the right.”
Two roads branched off at different angles to the right of the circle drive. Missy, unsure, chose the furthest one, simply because it looked the least inviting. Something about the dense line of trees along each side and how they formed an arch over the road filled Missy with a sense of dread. It was like entering a tunnel of sorts, for very little light penetrated the thick foliage above.
“Turn on your headlights,” advised Jeanette. Missy noted a tinge of tension had crept into her aunt’s voice. Clearly, she, too, was picking up on the ominous vibe.
The road was fairly straight, with only a few minor curves due to large boulders or rock formations that punctuated the thick forest on either side of them. About ten miles or so later, the woods opened up and the sky miraculously reappeared. There, stretching out before them was a series of weathered grave stones, undefined by any fence or gate. The stones dotted the large expanse of grassy lawn which led up to a very fancy looking gothic cathedral. A white gravel road served as the roadway to the church’s entrance. The cathedral’s decorative towers loomed over them, rising from the flat earth like the talons of some giant demon escaping from below. It, too, seemed out of place and out of scale for such a small town, especially since it seemed to appear out of thin air in the middle of nowhere.
As they drove in silence, the gravel crunched beneath their tires. The place looked pretty foreboding.
After a brief silence, Jeanette was the first to speak. “You wanna go up and knock on the door?”
Missy, intimidated, not only by the structure, but also by its remoteness, gulped. “Not really "
“Okay,” sighed Jeanette, hauling herself out of the car “I guess it’s up to me.”
Missy watched as her aunt strode up the wide, steps, amazed that she was in such good shape; for, despite the number of steps, Jeanette didn’t pause once. At the top, she pushed on the massive wooden doors and, much to both their surprise, they gave way. Jeanette motioned for Missy to hurry. Missy got out of the car quickly, but approached the church with a sense of uncertainty. Was there a mass in progress? Or was this more of a tourist attraction? Not knowing what to expect, she began the arduous climb.
Once she'd reached the top of the stairs, Jeanette, turned and said, “Okay, here we go, into the depths of the abyss. Ah, ha, ha, ha, ha.” Her deep, ominous laugh made her sound like a vampire, which seemed incongruent given that they were entering a church. Missy wanted to point this out, but, hey; Jeanette’s spirits were back up, so why rain on her parade?
If the church seemed large on the outside, it was positively cavernous inside. They stood in the vestibule, their eyes struggling to adjust to the difference in light. Missy was immediately aware of a heavy coolness in the air, infused with the weighty spice of incense. It was a comforting smell. She recalled it from the times her grandmother would drag her to church - typically on holidays, like Easter or Christmas. Merely entering the building brought to mind the words of Madonna, not the mother of Jesus, but those of the media icon:
I'm not religious
But I feel so moved
Makes me want to pray
Pray you'll always be here...
Except she wasn’t, Missy sadly noted.
Not anymore.
And now there was no one to drag her to church. For a brief moment she began to ponder where her grandmother was now. What had become of her? What happens when life ends? Catching herself, she shook her head. No, she couldn't allow herself to go down that path. Not right now, anyway. She knew all too well where it led, and that was tears. Better for her to concentrate on the now and keep a level head
In silence, the two women walked across the cold, polished mosaic floor to the large double doors that allowed entry into the church proper. Before pressing against the doors, they each instinctively looked through the small, eye-level, amber glass windows in each of the doors. Leaning against the doors, they opened, and their amber-tinged, slightly askew vision of the church interior gave way to the full reality. It was stunning. The ceiling seemed to fly all the way up to the heavens. For a moment. Missy wondered what country were they in, for this seemed to be unlike any church she had ever seen. So massive in size, and ornate, it seemed to belong to another time, another place - Venice, or Rome, perhaps. Anywhere, but this tiny hamlet tucked away in a backwoods valley in southern Minnesota.
Looking down the aisle. Missy guessed the church could easily hold a thousand people. It was as if it had been built for a congregation which never showed up.
“Can we walk down the middle aisle?” whispered Jeanette, who seemed as astonished as Missy.
“I think so, but,” she hedged, “don’t get too close to the altar or anything.”
“Why?” her aunt asked, mischievously. “Afraid I might melt?”
Upon entering, they found themselves in the gathering area, at the back of the church. It was oddly shaped, like an octagon, with four sets of double doors - two pairs on each side of the main aisle, and a large marble baptismal fount at its center. Neither had ever seen a church with such a feature. As they stood at the intersection their eyes instinctively moved heavenward, drawn by the light.
An extravagant, stained-glass dome loomed overhead, it's sunlight poured forth through the innumerable slices of colored glass, swathing the entire area in a sea of color and light. It took Missy back to Easter mornings, when the morning sun would pour through the stained glass windows of the much more modest church she and Grandma Jean had occasionally attended.
The pair slowly stole down the main aisle, their necks craning from left to right as they tried to take in all the spectacle; the ornate carvings that adorned the confessionals, the brilliance and incredible detail of the stained glass windows depicting the stations of the cross, the apostles, martyrs, and saints. In a small enclave to their left there rose a high-wrought baptismal font, in another, rows and rows of candles glowing within tall cylinders of red glass.
As they approached the transept, where the main body of the church intersected with the two large wings jutting from the main part like the arms of a crucifix, their eyes scanned the baroque grandiosity that encompassed the entirety of the altar. Above it, some architectural anomaly allowed, even at this time of day, for sunlight to cascade down from the ceiling. The natural light separated into three beams, each settling on a separate altar statue: Mary, beatific, solemn and mysterious to their left, Joseph, simple, humble and earnest, to their right, and, presiding over everything like a grotesque, tragic marionette, hovering near the back of the wall of the altar, Jesus, nailed to the cross. Missy could not tear her eyes away from the face of the Christ figure; his face, a mask of horror, frozen in time, seemingly screaming in torturous agony for all of eternity.
She was about to step closer when her eye caught sight of a figure moving to her left. Jeanette gasped. A small-framed man in a flowing dark brown robe, his waist defined by a simple knotted rope stepped down from the towering pulpit. He beckoned them to come to him. As they moved toward him, the light changed and they were able to make out his features. A tiny, knowing smile graced his face, his eyes, alive, with just a hint of something playful dancing behind them. His silver hair was cut in a modern style, spiky on the top and closely cropped on the sides. If it were not for the robe, he could pass for a senior ad executive attempting to remain hip and relevant. In his demeanor and expression there was nothing which seemed forbidding or judgmental, so as Missy approached, she did not feel as if she was about to be chastised, but welcomed
“Hello," he began “Welcome to St. Peters. My name is Brother David. May I help you?"
"Oh, hi,” floundered Missy. “We... we’re just here to... looking around... and, ummm... ”
Jeanette swooped in, coming to her rescue. “Hello, my name is Jeanette and this is my niece, Missy. You’ll have to excuse her; I think she’s a bit overcome by the majesty of your church.” She paused and directed a frozen smile in Missy’s direction, as if looking for back up.
"Oh, yes, YES,” gushed Missy, before trailing off. “This place. Uh, your church. Really. Really. Beautiful.”
Ignoring Missy’s discomfort, the man spoke, “St. Peters is almost 150 years old. It was designed, as were most of the major buildings in this town, by the town’s founding father and patron, Gerald Oswig.”
“Well, he certainly had an eye for the dramatic, didn’t he?” observed Jeanette, choosing her words carefully. “It’s just so... overwhelming.”
“Yes. Yes, I suppose it is,” said Brother David, charitably. He looked about and added, “To the eyes of someone who’s never seen it before, I can see why you’d say that.” He gestured for the ladies to take a seat in the pew a few yards behind them and then sat himself. “Today’s churches? They’re much more... unembellished. And while we realize we don't have a need for anything as grand as this in St. Petersburg, the population being what it is, this church is a part of our heritage, an important part of our town’s history, and therefore, it must be preserved.”
“I can’t imagine how much it must cost to keep this boat afloat.” Jeanette blurted out. "How do you do it?”
Brother David seemed undisturbed by Jeanette's question. “The Vatican provides some funds. Private donations and those made by the congregation make up for the rest. Much of the necessary labor is provided by the seminary students from Oswig University in exchange for grants and scholarships, and, of course, there are the other Brothers in my order.” He smiled. “As you can well imagine, it takes a number of hands to keep this church... ship worthy.” Missy sensed that he stressed these last words in order to intimate the inappropriateness of Jeanette’s metaphor, but Jeanette paid him no notice. In fact, it seemed to encourage her.
“And tourists?” she asked. “I bet you get a lot of them here? What do you charge for a tour'’”
“Oh... well, we...” Brother David stumbled for a moment before asserting firmly, “We don’t encourage that sort of thing. There are no organized tours. In fact, we... we don’t get many visitors here at all. How, may I ask, did you manage to find us?
Missy and Jeanette looked at one another. They weren’t sure they should mention Sam, the old man at the gas station, as they didn’t want to get him in any trouble. Jeanette’s eyes went wide and her eyebrows rose, which indicated to Missy that it was her turn to pitch. “We just... sort of stumbled onto it.” She looked to Jeanette for support, but there was none forthcoming, so she continued. “You know, we got to the town hall and just went, eenie, meenie... and well, here we are!”
Jeanette, finding her voice, added swiftly, “The door was open, so we thought it was okay to come in, seeing as it was a church and all. It was okay to come in, wasn’t it?”
Brother David studied the women’s faces carefully before speaking, “Yes of course.” He smiled. “The church is always unlocked. We have a number of lay people who take part in a continual prayer chain. They each take a shift and usually secret themselves away in one of the smaller chapels off the ambulatories. But, rest assured, there is someone here, praying, 24 hours a day. Right now, as a matter of fact.”
Missy couldn’t imagine being in such a gigantic church all alone in the middle of the night. To hide her apprehension, she simply commented, “How very devoted.”
Brother David tilted his head and asked casually, “Are you... Catholic?”
Missy and Jeanette again exchanged looks before answering and then answered simultaneously, their words tumbling over the other’s.
“Yes” said Jeanette, emphatically.
“Occasionally” offered Missy, clumsily. “Somewhat, on occasion.”
“Wonderful.”
Brother David said this in such a way, that Missy wasn’t sure if he really thought it wonderful at all. “May I ask? What brings you to St. Petersburg?”
This time, neither woman bothered to consult the other, but again they spoke simultaneously, this time in unison. “Bread.”
Brother David seemed to freeze. “I beg your pardon?”
Jeanette rambled on, “Bread. We’re interested in bread. Always have been. It’s a hobby of ours.”
Missy, sensing that her aunt was about to stumble, rushed in, “B&T. It’s such a large bakery. On their website, they mentioned that at one point they had acquired a number of smaller bakeries, and we...”
Unbidden, Jeanette, took over once again, “We want to learn more about those companies. Kind of... the history, you see.”
Both women paused, smiled and took note in the change in Brother David’s demeanor.
“Bread?” he echoed. His face suddenly closed to them, as if they had said something wrong. He rose, stiffly and added, rather robotically, “Ladies, enjoy your time in St. Petersburg.Now, if you'll excuse me, I have... more pressing matters to attend to.” With that he swiftly moved down the aisle.
“Thank you...” Missy said, her voice trailing off, still surprised by the sudden termination of their conversation. She and Jeanette sat, blinking like deer caught in headlights, watching as Brother David disappeared through one of the sets of double doors.
Jeanette, covered her mouth, and looked at Missy, in shock. “What did you say to him?”
“Me?” rasped Missy. “It seems to me we were both doing the talking.” She paused and looked again at the double doors, half expecting the man reappear. “Honestly, I don’t know what just happened.”
“Well”, said Jeanette, as she got to her feet. “Let’s go find out. I'm sure we can fix this. Or something...”
They went to the double doors through which Brother David had just exited, only to find them locked “So much for that,” mused Missy.
“Oh, come on,” said her aunt, nonplussed, “I saw a sidewalk out front. It’s gotta lead somewhere.”
They traipsed back to the front of the church and swiftly moved down the steps. “There," pointed Jeanette, “Down there.” Following a sidewalk that curved to the right and towards the back of the church, the women soon found themselves on the rather modest doorstep of an annex off the main body of the church. After knocking on it insistently without producing any results, Jeanette, again, pointed at the sidewalk and said, “There, that way.” This time the walkway led them past a lovely courtyard of sorts, tucked in the 'V' created by another annex springing from the side of the church at a different angle.
"Isn’t this beautiful?” murmured Missy. And it was. Populated with petite fruit trees, expansive explosions of barberry, a small ornamental pool, and a series of geometrically designed flowerbeds, it was just the sort of thing one would expect to find in the backyard of the religiously contemplative. The amount of work it must take to maintain! But Jeanette, intent on learning where the sidewalk would take them, paid no attention. Arriving at a similar set of steps, she rapped on the door and got an immediate, if curious response. A small door, inset near the top of the door, opened and the eyes, nose and mouth of a man suddenly appeared.
"Yes?”
“Hi, we were hoping...” Jeanette, suddenly at a loss for words turned around to look at Missy, who was standing a few steps below her. Sighing, her niece rolled her eyes and pushed past her aunt.
"We wanted to talk to someone about getting a possible tour of the grounds and maybe learn more about the bread that used to be made here?” Missy decided, to hell with it - be blunt, get the rejection over with as quickly as possible. To her surprise the nose in the little doorway said. “You’ll have to speak with Brother Michael. One moment.” And slam, the tiny door shut.
Missy turned to face her aunt. “I guess the Wizard will see us momentarily!” As the two began to laugh, the full-sized door behind Missy swung open. Missy turned and came face to chest with a tall, thin man dressed in the same manner as Brother David. His nose was long and beak-like, his hair thinning, all of which gave Brother Michael the appearance of a cancer patient going through a rough patch of chemo. If Missy had been blunt and to the point, he was equally so. “Hello We don’t give tours. Is there anything else we can help you with today?”
Jeanette muscled Missy aside in order to speak with the tall, adverse brother. As Missy stepped back she caught sight of a dark-haired man in jeans and a t-shirt holding a rake. He was standing near a small, adjacent parking lot and had definitely been watching what was transpiring with Brother Michael. He also seemed to have a sly eye on her, as well. Missy smiled and he, leaning on his rake, smiled back. However, the voices behind her rose to such a volume, that she couldn’t help but return her attention to the pair arguing behind her. She turned back just in time to see Brother Michael slam the door in Jeanette’s reddened face.
“Ummm...” she said, her voice just a tad hoarse, “we won’t be getting a tour.”
Missy crossed her arms over her chest. “Yeah... that whole yelling thing? Doesn’t work well on strangers. Trust me.”
Jeanette shrugged her shoulders. “What can I say? I’m out of practice. Okay, that’s that. Let’s head back into town. Is it time for lunch yet?”
Turning around. Missy came face to face with the cute man with the rake. His smile was sweet and kind and made Missy go a little weak in the knees.
“Hi” he said “I see Brother Michael is being his usual charming self. They’re not big on public relations here.” After removing his work glove, he extended his hand, “My name’s Peter.”
Missy took his hand in hers, noticing that his grip was firm, but not aggressively so. “Missy. And this is my Aunt Jeanette. Nice to meet you, Peter.” Examining his face up close. Missy thought he looked to be in his mid-thirties. There was something boyish in his appearance, his smile in particular, but the weathered crinkles in the corner of his eyes and sun-kissed skin gave his face deeper character.
“Sorry if he was rude. They get all bent out of shape whenever strangers show up here. They're a very private order ”
Missy felt a tad guilty. “We didn’t mean pry. We were just looking for information about the bread they used to make here.”
“Yeah, well,” Peter hesitated, “that’s a very touchy subject. Brings up memories of a particularly bad patch in their history, if you know what I mean.”
Missy shook her head. “We don’t. Maybe you could clue us in?”
“Honestly, I don’t know a lot about it. I mean, I knew the boy—knew of him, anyway...”
Missy cut him off. “The boy?”
Peter began to look around, as if to see if anyone was listening. Missy did so as well, and it was then she noticed that the tiny door in the larger door had opened just a crack. Suddenly, she no longer felt free to talk where they were, and proposed, “You know what? There is the most beautiful little garden right over there. Would you mind showing it to us? There were so many statues, and we didn't get a chance to look at any of them.”
Peter smiled. “Sure thing. Just follow me, ladies.”
As they walked toward the garden, Peter pointed out a few of the smaller statues and some of the foliage, but Missy’s eyes were intent on something else. It might have been the cut of his jeans, or the way they hung on his hips, but Missy thought Peter’s butt was the cutest thing she’d ever seen.
So pristine, she wanted to spread frosting on it.
--- ---
Next Week: Chapter 14
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2 comments:
Oh, you go, Missy.
Oh, really? Madonna?
And this is very weird in a catholic way. I'm sure there's more to the brothers and the church and the bread...
XOXO
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