Richfield & Rivers Mystery Series 2 - Stellium in Scorpio (29 page)

"Not
in front of the children," I said in reference to Sophia.

"Are
you an astrologer?" Sophia asked. "Are you able to tell if two people
are meant for each other?" she added, without waiting for an answer.

"Apparently
not," I said snidely in reference to Callie and me.

"There
are compatibility charts," Callie replied.

"Okay,
let's put the stars on hold a minute." I signaled them to be quiet as I
gently slid the vestry door open. Inside, the long table with its green and
gold embroidered cloth was bare, the chalice having been washed and stored. A
large Bible rested on one end, next to the tall cabinet doors that housed the
priests' vestments. As Callie walked across the room to examine a picture of an
older priest in red vestments, she tripped on the long oriental runner that ran
the length of the room. I caught her and bent over to pull the rug back into
place. Under the rug was a circular design with smaller concentric circles. The
smallest circle appeared to contain only a beautiful inlaid pattern, but on
closer inspection that inlay was an embedded handle so perfectly carved that it
lay as flat as the wood surface of the floor. I wondered aloud what it could be
as I lifted it slowly and turned it to the right. From behind me, the wall with
the priest's portrait slid back like a pocket door, revealing a narrow opening.
So beautifully crafted was the seam that concealed the door, no one would ever,
in a million years, have suspected the paneling of parting.

I
made the decision that Callie and I would investigate while Sophia stood guard.
If we didn't return in twenty minutes, she was to call the police. If anyone
appeared, she was to shout for us. I commanded her to leave the wall open and
not to move the floor handle at all. I didn't want to chance her not being able
to figure out how to get us out.

Leaving
her as the guard was a calculated risk. She could be one of them, whoever
"them" was, but unguarded, the door could be closed by anyone wanting
to entomb us. A voice in me said it would be safer to leave Callie guarding the
door and take Sophia with me, but I'd let Callie go to her apartment without me
after we first met, and she was kidnapped. I had decided then and there that
she would always stay with me.
The irony is that after this investigation is
over, she won't be with me anyway.

I
pushed that thought out of my mind and took Callie's hand and pulled her behind
me into the darkened space. I stood still for a moment smelling the musty, but
not unpleasant, odor of damp earth, and I thought perhaps a hint of wine, or
maybe my mind wanted to believe I was in an old wine cellar rather than
something more insidious. Our eyes were growing accustomed to the dark. Ahead
of us, the walls seemed to narrow down the long passageway, making the journey
feel claustrophobic from the outset. We walked nervously, having no flashlight,
only our hands to run along the earth-packed walls that ended who knew where.
Fifty feet farther, an earthen wall rose up in front of us—the end of whatever
tunnel someone had dug and then abandoned.

Maybe
it had been an unfinished escape route for someone years before. Maybe it had
been a hiding place for people being pursued. Maybe they had intended to line
the walls and use it for storage. Whatever the intent, work was aborted and
there was nothing there.

"Are
you sure?" Callie whispered. "I just feel like there's more."

I
was on my knees rubbing my hands across the dirt floor and up the side of the
walls. Aside from the uneven earth, packed hard over centuries, this place held
nothing. Fifteen minutes later, I led Callie back out, arriving in no time at
the entrance to the vestry room. To my great relief the door was still open,
and we walked out into the brightly lit room blinking like Punxsutawney Phil in
search of his shadow. I whispered Sophia's name, but there was no answer. I
spoke her name in a more normal voice. No response. We quickly exited into the
chapel and called to her. Nothing. I was beginning to panic. Had someone taken
her too? We walked briskly to the courtyard heading to our car. Under the
windshield wiper was a note written on church stationery that said,
Got a
call and had to leave. I'll be in touch.

"What
did she mean she had to leave? Did she spread wings and fly? There's no way out
of here unless she drove, and we've got the car. Unless someone picked her up.
Maybe she called someone and they came and got her. That would be fairly rude,
since we were depending on her to make sure that we didn't end up locked in
that tunnel," I said.

"Where
would she get church stationery?" Callie examined the note. "I didn't
see any church offices open."

I
took a look at Elmo. His hackles were up and he was panting and drooling a
little. "Judging from Elmo's condition, someone took her," I said.
"Maybe she heard them coming and maybe she led them away from us before
they took her. Otherwise, they would have enclosed us in that tunnel and let us
rot."

"You're
right." Callie looked at Elmo. "Who was it, Elmo?" she asked
him, only unlike other people, she expected an answer.

"He
says a big woman came and took her," Callie said.

"Elmo
is talking to you?"

"The
way animals talk—with mental pictures."

"A
big woman? All women are big to a dog with four-inch legs," I said.

"He
says he doesn't talk to you much, that you do most of the talking."

"Yeah,
well, maybe that's because he can't talk with his mouth full—"

"Unkind,"
she said to me. "She doesn't mean it, Elmo," she assured my hound.

I
pulled out my gun and told Callie to stay close. We walked around the grounds
checking to see if there was another entrance to the building or a cellar or
any place where Rose Ross and Sophia might be.

My
cell phone rang and we jumped reflexively. I grabbed it as if to choke it into
silence on this eerie night. It was Wade, in Tulsa, and he spoke loudly as if
he thought I were deaf. "You still alive out there? Can you hear me?
Listen, Tee, tell beautiful hello for me. She still with you or did she dump
you?"

"Would
you get to it, Wade?" I said irritably, since he'd pressed my Callie
breakup hot button.

"Excuse
meee, I'm bein' paid so much for this, I almost forgot to mind my own business.
I got some info for you, hotshot. Mo Black, the dead guy? Well, his kid works
at the hotel." My mind raced as Wade filled me in on the details.
"That all mean somethin'?" Wade finally asked.

"Thanks,
Wade, I'll get back to you," I said, and hung up as he was saying,
"Tell me what the hell it means."

"He
said Sophia did get the Stellium in Scorpio from Mo Black's daughter, Barbara
Black, who married a guy named Loomis."

"So
Manager Barbara Loomis is Mo Black's daughter!" Callie said.

"Loomis
was married for a couple of years when she was younger, to a guy who worked at
the newspaper, name of Pappagallo. Loomis's daughter is Sophia Pappagallo,
which makes Sophia Mo Black's granddaughter," I said.

"She's
either in the middle of what's going on, or someone has her
because
of
what's going on. I would guess she knows something she shouldn't," Callie
said.

"So
that's why Loomis is calling Sophia; she's calling her daughter," I said.

"A
woman in the middle of things.. .like the chart said. Sophia put the Stellium
in Scorpio in your luggage, which meant to our mysterious surveillance squad
that she was talking, and someone wants to put an end to that. You remember
when I told you there's a Sabian Symbol for every degree of the zodiac on the
Ascendant? In this case, the Sabian Symbol said 'an exotic bird listening and
then talking.' Sophia's overheard something, listening, maybe to her
grandfather, or her mother, and now she's talking, and that has put her in
danger."

"How
do you know the Sabian Symbol is talking about Sophia?"

"The
Sabian Symbol is an exotic bird—
pappagallo
is Italian for
'parrot,'" Callie said.

The
church bell rang, and I whirled around to see a young acolyte in his white
tunic pulling slowly on the rope. I asked him if he'd seen a young woman
moments before near our car.

"No,
senora, no ha pasado nadie por aca. "

A
few cars were kicking up dust on the road and several Hispanic women were
walking toward the compound over the hill. I checked my watch. It was time for
evening Mass.

It
was at that moment that a soft, kind voice spoke from behind us. "Welcome
to Saint Hidalgo. I am Father Ramon. You must be new to the area or perhaps you
are just visiting." His English was laced with just the hint of a Spanish
accent.

"Just
visiting." I smiled at the young priest as Callie backed away from him,
much as if he were a snake oil salesman.

"Come
in, welcome. Mass will be taking place in only a few minutes."

"We
have to—" I began my excuses to avoid putting Callie in a traditional
church, but she interrupted me to say that we'd be delighted to attend. I
looked at her as if she were possessed, as she walked toward the chapel doors.

"We're
searching for a missing girl. Two missing girls, Father. Rose Ross and Sophia
Pappagallo. Sophia comes here to Mass," I said, looking for a reaction.

"How
long have they been missing?" he asked.

"One
for several days, the other more recently," I said.

"Come
inside. We will pray for their safe return." He looked saddened.

"Thank
you," Callie said.

"You
getting religion?" I said under my breath.

"Prayer
is always good," she said. "The priest.. .there's something familiar
about him.. .his mannerisms. I know him."

"Well,
he's too young to have been here when the hotel was built, so you must know him
from another lifetime," I goaded her.

∗ ∗ ∗ ∗

Mass
began with the traditional prayers.
Gloria Patri, et Filio, et Spiritui
Sancto
rang throughout the chapel as the young priest adhered to a lot of
the old Latin, apparently ignoring the Vatican II dictates. It reminded me of
my childhood as I accompanied my grandmother to Mass each Sunday and dutifully
learned to pronounce the Latin words that I didn't understand, loving the way
my leather-bound missal felt in my hands and admiring the gold leafing on the
page edges and the colorful ribbons that hung from the top of the book,
allowing me to mark various pages: the place for my name in the front, and
information about my family. It made religion personal and beautiful, and I
liked shaking hands with the priest at the door afterward.

The
priest gave a five-minute homily on the importance of tithing, which felt a lot
like a fundraiser telethon and took a little more away from my spiritual
experience, but he did interject a short but heartfelt prayer for the safe
return of Rose and Sophia. Then, we were at the point of communion. In theory,
I couldn't take communion, being officially Episcopalian now and not Roman
Catholic, but for my money, God didn't care, and I decided I would line up at
the altar rail. Callie saw me rise and tried to pull me back onto the pew. The
idea of my drinking wine from a chalice from which twenty strangers had drunk
was enough to send her head into a Linda Blair spin. I could read it in her
eyes without ever getting the dialogue from her lips. I almost giggled at the
frantic look. I leaned over and whispered, "I won't drink the wine; don't
worry. But you're not kissing me anymore, so what do you care?"

"I
care about your health," she said.

I
got in line behind a man bent over in prayer as he proceeded to the altar rail.
I knelt and gazed up at the crucifix, saying a prayer for the world, and my
family, and especially Callie and for myself. The priest came by with the bread
and placed it in my hand, making the sign of the cross. I closed my eyes and
said another prayer as the acolyte rang the bell. Moments later the priest came
down the row again, this time with the chalice, and I crossed my arms over my chest,
signaling that I would not drink, but would take only the blessing. As he
raised his right hand to bless me, I glanced up. The light caught the ring on
his pinkie finger and I saw the bird, as clearly as a brand put there by the heavens,
a rooster—a cock! I stared into his face, trying to conceal my shock at the
horrible revelation.
The priest has the ring! The same ring the dealers at
the hotel have! What in the world is he doing with that ring on?

I
hurried back to the pew and slid in beside Callie as she whispered her
disapproval. I interrupted, "The priest is wearing the ring!" She
turned fully toward me in shock. "Are you sure?"

"I'm
absolutely positive," I said. "Get in line at the door and shake his
hand. You'll see it."

The
greetings at the door didn't take long. We were fifth in line. He took my right
hand in his and then folded his left hand over the top of mine in a warm and
comforting gesture. I bowed my head as if in respect when, in fact, I was
getting one more look at the ring and giving Callie a chance to see it too.

As
we walked slowly toward the car, like any normal churchgoers, Callie breathed,
"The priest is in on it."