Carol Sister O'Marie - The Missing Madonna

Whether it was from cold or from fear, now her teeth were threatening to chatter. Her legs began to tremble. Mary Helen wasn’t sure how much longer she could stay crouched in the corner, waiting for death. Or even if she should.

What had Eileen said? “An Irish coward is an uncommon character!” If it was her time to go, by God, she would go with dignity, not quailing in some dusty corner. Squaring her shoulders, she steadied herself. Then, wondering briefly if she had more bravado than brains, she rose.

God, help me! she prayed, swallowing hard to keep her throat from closing. She knew from their longstanding relationship, He most certainly would.

“Here I am!” She hardly recognized her own forced voice.

Finn looked over, blinking. “Oh, it’s you,” he said, not unkindly. “I’m sorry it’s you.”

For a moment the pair studied each other. The dim light from the bulb bounced off the bald V’s Finn’s hair outlined on the top of his head.

“I rang your apartment bell when I came,” Mary Helen said, as if trespassing were the problem.

“I guess that’s what woke me up.” Finn shifted the pillow. “I was taking a nap upstairs on Erma’s bed. Makes me feel closer to her now that she’s gone.” Mary Helen remained silent.

“I’m sorry it’s you,” he repeated, “but I should have known it would be. That business about the phone call didn’t put you off, did it?”

Woodenly, Mary Helen shook her head, wishing momentarily that it had. “I was sorry when I realized it was you too,” she said slowly. “What stumps me, however, is why , Mr. Finn. I always had the feeling that you loved Erma.”

“I did. I still do.” Finn blinked. “And I miss her. It was an accident. It really was. I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never would have hurt her on purpose.”

“What kind of an accident?”

“I lost my temper.” Perspiration broke out on Finn’s forehead. “She fell and cracked her head against the bed and… I didn’t mean to.” He rocked nervously on the soles of his feet.

Mary Helen inched over, determined not to glance at the open door leading up to the kitchen. If she could just keep him talking, keep inching over, maybe, just maybe, she could make a dash for it before… No! She refused to think about the pillow hanging limply from his hands.

“What could Erma possibly have done to make you lose your temper?” She cleared her throat. “She always seems… seemed so accommodating.”

“Yeah.” Finn glared at her. “Especially with those kids of hers. She was goofy about those kids. You know her checks had been missing.”

He stopped, waiting for Mary Helen to nod.

“She blamed me. Me! Just because I had a few gambling debts.”

“And you didn’t take them?”

His nostrils flared. “Of course I didn’t. That’s what started the argument. I told her it was Buddy. She was shocked. She tells me Buddy wouldn’t do such a thing. The little twirp!”

Finn’s eyes narrowed. “I told her all her kids were nuts. Then we really started to fight. Erma brought up an old story about me doing something to Ree when she was a kid.”

Keep him talking, Mary Helen thought, shifting her feet ever so slightly. “Ree told me as much.” She kept her voice even. “And you’re saying you didn’t?”

He stared at her in amazement. “Damn right, I didn’t! Actually it was Junior who knocked his sister down. I thought the kids were lost, so I went looking for them. He was on top of her by the time I got there. Buddy was looking on. I’m sure she didn’t tell you that part.

“I got him off her. Tommy came around the comer. When she sees him, Ree says I was the one who knocked her down.” He shrugged. “We never could figure out just what happened or whose fault it was or exactly what the kid had in mind. I never seen Tommy so mad. He walloped the daylights out of Junior right there at the track. Smacked the sister good and hard a couple of times, too, just in case.”

“Did you explain that to Erma?”

“She never wanted to talk about it. Tommy-I know he was ready to kill both kids! Somehow Erma blamed that on me too.” He shook his head. “You know, when she was around she never let him lay a hand on Ree or the little guy. And that Buddy sure could have used it. If you ask me, that’s why the poor guy drank.” He stopped to catch his breath.

“Yet I couldn’t help loving her. But she wouldn’t marry me after Tom died. Her kids, especially the daughter, didn’t like seeing me with their mother. And so Erma said she hated my temper and my drinking, but I know the kids had a lot to do with it.” Finn shifted the pillow.

Watching him, Mary Helen’s stomach roiled. She wasn’t even a foot closer to the door. “Do you have a hard time controlling your temper?” It was the only question that came to her, although she had witnessed the answer.

Finn looked and sounded puzzled, almost as if he were talking about someone else. “It happens when I’m drinking, mostly. I can’t seem to help it. Something just happens in my head. I only hit her once or twice, I guess, in all the years I’ve known her. And that was in these last few years. I been drinking more.” Finn’s eyes were blinking almost uncontrollably. “I told her I was sorry. I tried to make it up to her. I let her live here, work in my place. I tell you, I loved the woman.”

“I’m sure you did.” Mary Helen tried to soothe the man and not look shocked. No wonder the subtle mention of the picture to Ree. Erma didn’t want to upset her daughter. Good old Erma didn’t want to upset anyone. After all, Finn was her security; yet she must have feared that someday Finn’s drinking, coupled with his unbridled rage, would cause her harm.

“What made you come back here?” It was Finn’s turn to ask questions.

“The picture, really.” Suddenly her mouth was so dry, she was having trouble getting it around the words. “Erma said that if anything happened to her, we should look to the picture.” She stopped to swallow. “At first, I couldn’t make anything of it. This week I was doing some research and I remembered you telling us your name is Alphonsus after Alphonsus Liguori, founder of the Redemptorists. Our Lady of Perpetual Help is a special devotion of the Redemptorists. The picture was enshrined at their convent. It was the only connection that made any sense. But there was something else,” she added as he made a movement.

“The fact that I remembered your ice machine was leaning. Allan Boscacci, a fellow who fixes our electrical problems, says machines should be flat.” Mary Helen knew she was babbling. From the look hardening in Finn’s eyes, she realized her time was limited.

She shifted a few inches closer to the staircase and tried to stall. “Always, always, they should be flat, Allan said. And I was just checking and, sure enough…” Edging over, she pointed toward the new concrete square beneath the ice maker. “It seems unlikely that you would put a new piece of floor in crooked unless you were in a very big hurry.

“Won’t the cook be coming soon?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.

“I locked the front door and turned the CLOSED sign out.” The voice was cold, detached.

Mary Helen looked over at Finn. His eyes slid from the concrete floor up to her face.

The movement was so swift that Mary Helen was shocked to feel the pillow over her face. She gasped, sucking in air, fighting against the pressure backing her up, forcing her against the rough basement wall. Grunting, she moved her head from side to side, struggling to escape the softness covering her mouth, pushing her glasses into the bridge of her nose.

“Do not go gentle… Old age should burn and rave… Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” Crazily, the words popped into her mind as she clawed at Finn’s strong hands. She could feel his flesh under her nails. Desperately she tried to push against the blackness that was smothering her.