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
Chapter 29
The Solemnity of the Holy Trinity
Dawn was breaking when the Sheriff arrived. He was pissed with Missy and Jeanette for ‘never listening to a single thing" he said. But that all took a backseat to the mess of a woman who lay in the fetal position on the cot in that tiny, secret room. Missy and Jeanette walked the Sheriff through everything that had happened, everything they knew and everything they’d done, step by step. He then ordered them out of the building. Peter was told to take them to the community room, where the FBI and other officials would soon be setting up office for the duration of the initial investigation.
Missy observed that Jeanette suddenly seemed unburdened. The woman’s whole demeanor had changed. Re-energized, her aunt immediately set about making coffee and setting out cups for the soon to arrive troops. She seemed only too happy to have something so nurturing and domestic to do. Her inner church lady awakened, she seemed to relish the role.
It was now Sunday, and early mass was about to begin, for, if Missy listened very carefully, she could hear the sound of a men’s choir singing. Well, no, not really singing... more like chanting. Missy shook her head. Rising in disbelief, she went to the door next to the kitchen which led to the body of the church. She opened it, and marveled as the deep, rich, ancient sound swept over her, enveloping her.
That was it, she marveled... Chanting Latin. That was everything on Grandma Jean’s list.
She closed the door and looked over to Peter, who sat slumped in a grey metal folding chair. Since the Sheriff had arrived, Peter had hardly said a word; not a single gesture of comfort or concern had come Missy’s way. And it would remain so. For, although the two occupied the same space for the next hour, they exchanged not a word. Perhaps the shock of Kathleen’s meltdown had affected Peter deeply. He did strike Missy as the sensitive type. Or maybe he was simply exhausted. In any event, there was a lot going on, so Missy's mind moved on to other concerns.
At one point, Peter wandered off. On a hunch, Missy decided to follow him. She found him sitting in the garden on the north side of the monastery, studying some of the flowers.
Something in his posture and the look on his face, brought to mind one of Missy’s favorite childhood characters: Ferdinand, the Bull. Rather than deal with the matadors calling the shots in this bull ring, Peter would rather spend his time smelling the flowers. There was something incredibly sweet about that and it made Missy’s heart ache. Given that, she decided not to disturb him.
Instead, she drifted through the carefully trimmed hedges, slipping discretely under the ivy- covered arbor. Her eyes fell upon the statue of St. Peter. He seemed much less ominous in the morning light which filtered through the lattice work. On his shoulder perched a small sparrow. The bird cocked its head this way and that way, looking at Missy. It didn’t seem frightened at all. Missy moved closer and still the bird did not flit away. Extending her index finger, she reached up as high as she could to see if the bird would sit on her finger. This, apparently, was too much, for the bird took off, disappearing through a gap in the ivy. Missy was disappointed, but the thought of the bird having found a home on the shoulder of St. Peter made her smile.
An hour later, as Missy, Jeanette, and Peter were being escorted to a squad car by Adam the Admin’s boyfriend - for they would all have to go to the Sheriffs office to answer more questions - early morning mass was letting out. Missy paused at the bottom of the wide steps which led to the church’s entrance and watched as three elderly women wearing heavy lace scarves gingerly made their way down, each leaning a bit on the other for support. They were all dressed in the same manner as the woman who had appeared at Bainbridges dress shop the day before. Each looked like a different model of the same brand, one was tall and willowy, one short and petite, and one quite portly. It was the portly one who seemed to be having the most trouble navigating the steps. And though Missy couldn't have been one hundred percent certain, she was pretty sure it was the tallest of the three she’d seen at Bainbridges. Missy turned to the Deputy and asked, “Who are those women?” The Deputy glanced quickly in the direction she had indicated and then looked straight ahead, his eyes obscured by the dark trooper’s glasses he wore. “Those are the Oswig Sister’s ma’am Everybody knows them.”
The infamous Oswig Sisters! At last!
Once the three ladies completed their descent, they were whisked into a waiting vintage town car by the car’s driver. As it pulled away, Missy and the Deputy began walking toward the squad car. Suddenly, the town car stopped short, its tires digging into the white, pristine rock, startling Missy. Backing up, it came to a stop right in front of where Missy and the Deputy stood. A tinted window slowly rolled down, as an ancient, weathered face peered out from the darkness within, beckoning Missy over to the car. “You, there. Girl. Come here.”
Missy approached the car. Perhaps the woman was curious about the presence of all the police vehicles. Adopting her work persona, Missy was happy to explain.
“Hi, how can I help you?”
The old woman, the tallest of the three, her face pinched with shrewish disdain, looked Missy over carefully and then said, “Pity. You look so much like your Grandmother Jean, but something tells me you haven’t the gift. I could be wrong, but I rarely am.” The 'gift'? Before Missy had a chance to ask any questions the window rolled back up and the car sped away.
. What the hell? When she asked her aunt about it later, Jeanette was just as clueless as Missy. At least now Missy’s visit to St. Petersburg was nearly perfect. She’d met the Oswig Sisters, well, one of them, at least. Now, if she only had time enough to dig up some dirt on that Peg Powler woman, her trip would truly be complete.
As she and the Deputy resumed walking across the drive to the Deputy's waiting vehicle, an odd thought struck Missy: the white crushed rock beneath her feet. Why hadn’t she noticed before? Putting two and two together, she now realized why that rock outside Abe Longren’s house had looked so familiar - it was the same rock used in the drives and parking lots at the Monastery’!
That realization led to another thought, a more distressing one. As she sat beside Peter in the backseat of the squad car, she tried her best to work up the courage to ask. Finally, she just decided to put it out there and let the chips fall where they may. Looking at Peter, she asked, “You used to take care of Abe Longren’s driveway and lawn, didn’t you?”
Peter’s head slowly turned towards her. Their eyes met and an odd smile formed on his lips. Then, without answering, he turned and faced the front of the vehicle, the smile still in place. Something in his demeanor mad Missy pause. She decided to not pursue the subject any further. She had her answer... but it only raised more questions.
Troubling questions.
In that moment, Missy came to see that she knew nothing about the man seated beside her. So when the time came to say good-bye, she kept it perfunctory. Yes, she wanted to know more, but was also afraid of what she’d find. Once she was safe and sound, back home in Minneapolis, if he should call her? Well, she decided she’d play it by ear. If he called. If and when, if and when.
At the Sheriff's office, once all the questions had been answered and all the officials were satisfied, Jeanette and Missy were finally able to leave. The items they had left at the hotel and their car were brought to them. Missy drove as quickly as legally possible down the main drag. The scenic town had momentarily lost all its allure; sightseeing was no longer high on either woman’s list of priorities. Once they were on the other side of the wrought iron archway announcing ‘Main Street’ - the entry way that had first greeted them upon their arrival to St. Petersburg some 24 hours earlier - Missy felt a great deal of tension in her body melt away.
Crossing the old iron bridge, Jeanette was already wrist deep in a bag of chips, sipping a soda. Missy wanted to remind her of the rules regarding eating in the car, but she was too tired and didn’t want to risk an argument. Somewhere between leaving the Sheriff's office and now, Jeanette had developed a bit of an edge. It seemed that the fate of her beloved Pancho and Lefty, Jeanette’s dogs, were a matter of utmost concern. Once the car had reached the top of the hill. Missy’s cell phone sprang back to life and Jeanette, with salty, greasy fingers, snapped it up without so much as asking permission.
Her aunt was chattering away with the dog sitter as they passed by the old Arneson Farm. The tattered ends of the faded orange ribbon which still adorned the mailbox - the ribbon which had weathered all these years waiting and calling for the return of Jack Arneson - seemed to wave to Missy as they passed. She looked at the empty, forlorn windows of the abandoned farmhouse. It, too, had stood as sentinel all this time. Waiting.
Hate to be the one to tell you, Missy thought...
Jack would not be coming home.
Ever.
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1 comment:
Love it!
And her grandma had a gift, huh? Oh, I'm ready for the prequel now.
XOXO
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