Erin Hart - Haunted Ground

“Yes, that’s right, there were things she wanted to discuss about her own spiritual life, but she was also thinking about her son. Whether he ought to be brought up in the Church.”

“You say she was trying to decide. Was there any disagreement between Mina Osborne and her husband on that point?”

“I don’t know that I’d call it disagreement. They were discussing options. Christopher was still very young. I don’t know that Hugh Osborne had a terribly strong opinion, to tell you the truth. It was more a matter of Mina trying to resolve some questions of her own about her faith.”

“Did she say anything that seemed out of the ordinary, anything to indicate her state of mind? Was there anything troubling her that day?”

“I hope you’re not trying to insinuate—” Kinsella began. “Because I’m certain that Mina would never have harmed herself or Christopher.”

“I’m not insinuating anything; what I am trying to do is to find Mrs. Osborne. Please, just tell me what she said.” The edge of exasperation in Devaney’s voice seemed to give the priest pause.

“The reason the whole question of religious education had come up was that Mina wanted to take Christopher to India to meet his grandparents. She wanted to be able to tell them, truthfully, that her son was going to be raised in the Church. And her husband evidently had some reservations. There’s always tension when the couple come from different traditions. There were a few issues they’d not really resolved before the marriage—one of them was how the children would be raised—but it was nothing that couldn’t eventually be worked out. Mina had been estranged from her parents—her father, at least—since she married Hugh Osborne. They’d chosen not to be married in the Church, you see, and it mattered a great deal to her father. His family had always been strict Catholics, loads of aunts and uncles in religious orders; one was even an archbishop, I think. Anyway, Mina believed that such a gesture on her part might ease things with the father. Personally, I think there was more to it than that. We see it all the time. People fall away when they come of age, but when they have children, when they need something to connect with, something meaningful and profound to pass on to their children, they’re drawn back to the Church. The pull of tradition is much stronger than we realize.”

“Do you remember exactly what she said?”

Kinsella looked as though he wasn’t quite ready to part with the information. “I’ve gone over and over our last conversation. It was a couple of days before she disappeared, but I never saw her after that. Just as she was leaving, she said, ‘Hugh’s against the idea now, but he’ll come around. He’s hardly going to try keeping us here under lock and key.’”

“Excuse me, but I don’t recall any reference to ‘lock and key’ in your earlier statement,” Devaney said.

“She was only joking, Detective. There was no fear in those words. She’d come to a decision, and was joyful about it.” He added, as if to excuse his sin of omission, “I knew it would be taken the wrong way.”

Devaney gave the priest a questioning look. “Anything else you’ve suddenly remembered?”

“I swear that’s the only thing I might have left out of my original statement.”

“Would she have made the trip without her husband’s approval?”

“I believe she would have waited. She’d never have deliberately done anything to hurt him. That’s why her disappearance has been so troubling. You don’t know her, Detective. Mina’s spirit was filled with light, unlike any other person I’ve known.”

Devaney studied the priest’s face. “Sure you didn’t fancy her yourself? You wouldn’t be the first.”

“Contrary to what you might read in the papers, Detective, there are a few of us who do take the vows seriously. I don’t deny that Mina confided in me. I don’t even know why, really. I suppose there weren’t many people around here she could consider friends. But we were just friends.”

“What did you talk about?”

“Oh, I don’t know—books, music, the nature of God, the life of the soul. I think she was just starved for conversation.”

“And she couldn’t talk to her husband?” Devaney asked.

“Of course she could. I’m not saying that. But an intelligent person like Mina needs a very high level of intellectual engagement. She told me once that when she came here she couldn’t paint all day and all night as she’d done before. I think she needed other outlets.”

“What was your impression of the Osbornes’ marriage?”

“I think it was fairly solid, despite their brief courtship. She was certainly committed to the marriage. Of course she knew that her husband had other…women friends, before they married. He is somewhat older, and she wasn’t completely naive. But I got a sense that—”

“What?”

“Well, she never actually put it into words, but I think she may have had…some worries. Probably completely unfounded.”

“Can you recall what it was that gave you that sense?”

“I remember her asking rather pointedly in our last conversation about God’s forgiveness of sin. Hating the sin, but loving the sinner.”

“Maybe she was thinking of herself. You know that she was pregnant when they married?”

“Yes. Oh, don’t worry, I’m not divulging any secrets of the confessional. She didn’t try to hide it. Sometimes I think that may have been the real source of her doubts.”

“You don’t believe Osborne had a bit on the side.”

“I don’t know, Detective. I can’t say I really know the man.” Kinsella looked steadily back at Devaney. “He comes here, you know. Shows up at an early Mass and just sits in at the back. I’ve tried to find him afterwards, a couple of times, but he’s always gone.”

For a brief second, Devaney thought he glimpsed what failure felt like to a priest. “Thanks for your time, Father. I think that’s all for now.”

“Tell Nuala and the children I was asking for them.”

“I will.” Devaney turned to leave, and was about to push open the door at the back of the church when he heard the priest draw a tentative breath.

“You know, I wonder, as long as you’re here,” Kinsella said. “It’s hardly worth mentioning, really….”

“What is it?” Devaney asked.

“Well, we’ve had a rash of petty thefts recently, nothing serious, just somebody nicking offertory candles from one of the side chapels. I know a few candles might not seem like much in the larger scheme of things, but every penny counts in a small parish like this, and it’s all quite mysterious.”

“Can you show me where?”

Kinsella escorted him to a small, shadowy chapel just off the altar. A stained-glass window filtered a gloomy light into the alcove, where a painted plaster statue of the Virgin stood upon an altar. A metal crown of stars formed a halo around her head, and a half-dozen flickering candles illuminated her face from below. Devaney suddenly remembered being in thrall to a similar statue as a child. With her outstretched arms draped in that sky-blue robe, her face a portrait of radiant kindness, he had thought her the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. He’d have willingly saved a thousand pennies just to light one candle at her feet. He turned his attention to the priest.

“So this recent theft wasn’t the first.”

“The first time was about six months ago, then again a few months later, and, finally, last weekend. The candles are usually kept here.” Kinsella indicated an empty shelf below the row of burning votive lights. “I might not have noticed, even, except that we’d just put out a whole rake of new candles on Friday, and on Sunday morning they were all gone. I’ve held off saying anything, but now it’s becoming a rather regular habit. I’m not sure we’d want to prosecute, but I’d surely like to know who feels the need to steal from the church. It may be a cry for help.”