Carol Sister O'Marie - The Missing Madonna

Hearing from Don Juan Ron the first thing on Monday morning did nothing to improve Kate Murphy’s disposition. “Hey, you don’t even have a case here!” She knew she sounded short-tempered, but it had been a bad night. Besides, she was still annoyed with him from last Friday. “And, furthermore, why didn’t you tell me you had heard from the lady before I made a fool of myself-”

“Because I just found out this morning,” Honore interrupted, “when the Sister called me.” She heard him crack his gum. “But the whole thing just doesn’t set right.”

“Why are you calling me? If you don’t have a case, then surely we don’t.”

“Excuse me!” Honore’s mood didn’t sound too terrific either. “I just thought since these nuns are friends of yours…”

Kate didn’t like his tone. In fact, much as she hated to face it, this morning she didn’t like anything or anybody. “Listen, Ron,” she said as patiently as she could, “I just got here. I still have my coat on. Let me call you back in an hour or so.”

“Better yet, Kate”-she could tell that Honore, too, was trying to simmer down-“why don’t I get some deli sandwiches and pick you up around noon? We can have lunch out by the Marina. That way we can eat, talk, and envy the way the other half lives.”

Despite herself, Kate laughed. Honore pressed his advantage, “I’ll even spring for some potato chips, those natural ones,” he said, displaying some of the charm that had made him a legend.

“Make them the Hawaiian kind,” Kate said, “and you have a date.”

“Was that our favorite missing person again? Or did I mistake the vibes?” Gallagher asked when she hung up.

“Let me get a cuppa, Denny. Then we’ll talk.” Kate walked slowly to the coffee urn at the back of the detail. Relax, relax, she told herself. You can’t bring your personal life to the job. But it was pretty hard not to.

Last night she’d realized that the honeymoon was definitely over. After they had come home from the Bay-to-Breakers Race, she and Jack had fought. He’d even raised his voice. Usually patient Jack had hollered at her! She could feel tears sting her eyes.

“You’re taking your goddamn frustration out on me,” he had yelled. “And what’s even worse, you’re making yourself miserable.”

She couldn’t even remember what had started the quarrel. Although if she were perfectly honest, she knew wanting to be pregnant was at the bottom of it. She also knew, even as she shouted back, that he was right. That didn’t make how she felt any easier. If anything, it made it worse. Even this morning there was still a coolness between them.

“Bad weekend?” Gallagher asked when she sat down.

Kate nodded, reluctant to talk about it. The last thing she wanted to do was cry. Careful not to burn her tongue, she took a tiny sip of coffee. She could feel her partner’s eyes riveted on her. Doubtless he was debating whether or not to let it lie. She braced herself, sure of what his decision would be.

“You and Jack have a fight?”

“Last night, to be exact. How did you know?” Hastily Kate brushed a tear from her cheek.

“How did I know? I’ve been married as long as you’ve been alive. I know the signs.’ He offered her a piece of the Danish he had in a paper bag. “It happens in the best of families. Couples who don’t fight don’t make it That’s a well-known fact.”

Gallagher stopped to take a bite of the sweet roll, chew, and swallow. “The important part is, did you make up?”

Kate shook her head.

“Oh, you should make up. Making up is the best part of fighting.” He licked raspberry off his fingers. “Don’t worry. By tonight old Jackie-boy will be full of remorse.”

Kate knew her partner said that to make her feel better. Somehow it didn’t.

Inspector Ron Honore picked Kate up promptly at noon. A few minutes later they were parked at the Marina Green. Honore had pulled the car in facing the Bay. Even if they were going to see how the other half lived, he obviously had no intention of staring at their homes while he ate.

Following the time-honored rule that a diet drink cancels out calories, he handed her a poor boy and a diet Pepsi. All morning Kate had been so filled with a dull ache that she hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She chewed in silence.

In front of them, joggers and kite flyers, oblivious of the weather, enjoyed the wide apron of lawn around the yacht harbor. Behind them, along Marina Boulevard, were the luxurious two-story stucco homes with their million-dollar views of Alcatraz, Angel Island, and the Golden Gate Bridge. Although today the islands were barely visible and a wall of fog had nearly obliterated the bridge. Only the bright orange tips of the trusses pierced the grayness. Kate wondered foolishly if couples constantly surrounded by such changing beauty ever fought.

“This thing is really starting to bug me, Kate.” Honore wiped mayonnaise from the side of his mouth and broke into her thoughts. “According to your friend Sister Mary Helen, Al Finn heard from the missing woman last Thursday.”

Kate tried to sound interested. “So what’s bugging you? She’s no longer missing.”

“Technically you’re right. This one is solved. That’s all I need, you’re thinking. But the daughter, Marie, signed the missing-person report. She claims Finn is making it up, In fact, she called me this morning right after the nun did to tell me so.”

Kate swallowed the hunk of sourdough roll that she had been chewing. “Why not get the phone number from Finn and just call the woman back?”

“Brilliant! And I thought of that too.” Honore wadded up the paper napkin, dug in the bag, and pulled out another sandwich. “Want half?” he offered.

Mouth full, Kate shook her head. At least the mystery of why the seams in Honore’s suit jacket were straining was solved. “So why don’t you call?” she asked again.

“Because Finn said the woman wouldn’t leave a number.”

“Isn’t that a little odd?”

“It seemed a lot odd to me, but Finn tells me she doesn’t want her kids to find her. My common sense tells me,” Honore said, “to forget the whole thing. But in my gut”-he pointed to his belt buckle-“it doesn’t feel right.”

Kate resisted the urge to say that maybe it was the second poor boy and not the case that was affecting his gut. “That happens,” she said instead. “So what can I do for you?”

“Just listen, mostly. Tell me what you think.” Honore paused for a large swallow of Pepsi. “Since I last talked to you, I’ve double-checked. Finn, as far as the computer is concerned, is a good, upstanding citizen. Too good to be called a liar, if you know what I mean. Not married, no dependents. In the neighborhood they tell me he gambles a little at the track-nothing too big. Loses mostly, but the guy can cover his debts. Sometimes slowly, but he covers. Also, I hear he likes women. But the old geezer’s entitled, right?”

Kate rewrapped the second half of her sandwich for later. Maybe she wasn’t as hungry as she’d thought “What women?” she asked.

“No mention of the Duran woman, if that’s what you’re wondering about. If there is anything there at all, the two of them are being very discreet. As far as the computer and the neighbors are concerned, that woman is a solid-gold saint. Pays her bills, keeps appointments, helps people out.

“Now her three kids, on the other hand-they get mixed reviews, all bad. But the daughter is more to be pitied than censured, as the old lyric goes.”

“It’s no wonder Mama doesn’t want to hear from them,” Kate said.

“Right, except that the bigger conflict seems to be between Finn and the woman’s kids, especially the daughter, this Marie. She is sure he is guilty of something, even if there isn’t anything concrete to go on.”