The Mother's Day Murder (21 page)

I had the same feeling. “But we all know a little more and maybe that will help us find the answers.”

“How did Randy get from Albany or from the convent to your house?” Mrs. Collins asked.

“She told me she had come by train, which is a long trip and requires changes, and that she took a cab from the Oakwood station. But when I checked at the station, no one had any record of driving her to my house.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Bob Collins said. “They probably just drove her off the books, you know, no record of a fare, no tax to pay.”

“That’s possible. And maybe that’s what happened.”

We all sat there for a few moments, trying to think our way through what we had learned. I looked at my watch. “I’m going to leave now. I appreciate your help and your kindness.”

Bob Collins stood. “Please let us know if you find out anything else. I think I’ll call that detective and tell him about the connection with the convent.”

“He knows about it,” I said.

“So he’s just not talking, at least not to us.”

“I think he wants to be careful not to implicate an innocent person in a terrible crime.”

He seemed to accept that. I really didn’t want him telling Detective Fox I had been up here to see them, but if he did, I would live with it. At the door, I gave him my name and phone number and he grasped my hand warmly. I was in tears as I left him.

22

Eddie was still asleep in the backseat so we talked as Jack drove us home.

“They think Randy had an appointment with a nun last Sunday morning?” he said, skepticism apparent in his voice.

“Yes. I don’t know what to do about this.”

“You can be pretty sure Joe Fox knows about it,” Jack said. “If he’s talked to them, he’s asked a lot of the same questions you have.”

“Which is why Joseph is a suspect. He thinks she had an appointment with Randy and she won’t account for her time Sunday morning.”

“So where could she have been that she wouldn’t want to talk about?”

“I don’t know, Jack.” I heard my voice rise with fear and frustration. “I’m sorry. I’m not yelling at you.”

“I know that, honey. But let’s think. Could she be involved in some alternative kind of church that she goes to sometimes?”

“Joseph doesn’t get involved in stupidity,” I said.

“How about this? Could she have met one of her sisters that morning? Maybe she drove down to New York
City, went to church down there, and had breakfast with her sister?”

“This is very scary.”

“But it’s possible. She could be protecting her sister.”

“But her sister couldn’t have known about Randy, about Randy being at our house, any of this.”

“Maybe Mrs. DelBello made a phone call.”

It was possible. She could have called “Katherine Bailey” after she heard from Randy Collins. But that was almost two years ago, and there were so many other things that didn’t fit. “Why that weekend? I didn’t talk to the sisters till after Randy had been shot.”

“Maybe Sister Joseph and Randy had already talked by the time Randy came to Oakwood.” He said it quietly, an offering that I had no wish to sample.

“Joseph didn’t lie to me.”

“You sometimes withhold truths for what you consider good reasons.”

“Joseph didn’t kill Randy. Joseph didn’t give birth to Randy.”

“But maybe her sister did, on both counts.”

“And if Randy had already spoken to Joseph, why did she come to see me?”

I looked out the window. On any other day I would have enjoyed this drive. I would have loved looking at the scenery. I would have been happy to be spending time with my husband and son on a sunny Sunday afternoon in May. But on this day I was distraught. I couldn’t believe that Joseph had done any of the things that the evidence seemed to point to. But I wasn’t the detective. I wasn’t the jury that would hear the apparent evidence. I wasn’t the judge who would charge the jury.

Jack reached out and patted my arm. “We’ll get to the bottom of this,” he said.

“How much should I tell Arnold?”

“Tell Arnold everything. If anyone in this world is more skeptical than you about what looks like damning evidence against Sister Joseph, he’s the guy. I agree with you, Chris. She didn’t give birth to Randy and she didn’t kill her. There are still things we don’t know. I know it looks as though you’ve exhausted all your leads, but you haven’t. And before you ask me how I know that, I’ll tell you that since we both agree that Sister Joseph didn’t do either act one or act two, there’s still something we don’t know.”

“You always manage to make me feel better,” I said.

“That’s why there are two of us.”

There was a message on our answering machine from Joseph when we got home, just a brief sentence that I should call her. It made me uncomfortable. What could have happened that would make her call?

“You’re getting paranoid,” Jack said when I told him how I felt.

“I hope you’re right. I’d rather have it in my head than in reality.”

“Pick up the phone and call her. Maybe she’s inviting you to tea.”

“You are a dreamer. I thought you were the realist in this union.”

“Don’t give up on me. When you least expect it, I’ll be back to realism. You’ll wish I were still a dreamer.”

I gave him a hug, knowing it was true. Then I dialed St. Stephen’s.

“Chris,” Joseph said when we were finally connected, “thank you for getting back to me. I didn’t mean to interfere with your Sunday.”

“We were upstate. I talked to Randy Collins’s parents.”

“Those poor people.”

“Yes. How are you doing?”

“I got a call from my sister Hope this morning. She’s made a decision that will interest you.”

“Oh?”

“She’s decided to have a blood test, to check her DNA. She’s very distressed and wants to prove to you that she’s not related to anyone you think might be her natural child.”

“I see.”

“I tried to talk her out of it. I don’t think people should have to prove their innocence, especially in a case like this when I know she had nothing to do with Randy’s birth or death. But she’s adamant. She said she hasn’t felt right since she spoke to you and to her friend Mary Short, and while she’s sure her husband believes her—and I certainly believe her—she wants to prove scientifically that she’s not involved in this affair.”

“Have you told Arnold?” I asked.

“Yes. I called him at home.”

“Is she giving her blood tomorrow?”

“Yes. As soon as she can. I believe getting a complete DNA analysis takes a long time, but some things can be ruled out very quickly. She might be the wrong blood type and they would know that quite soon.”

“So we may know in a couple of days which way it’s going.”

“That’s right. I just wanted you to know. Did you learn anything from the Collinses?”

“Nothing that makes me happy.”

Joseph laughed lightly. “Out with it,” she said. “Did Randy tell them that I was her birth mother?”

“No, she didn’t. But they knew there was a connection with St. Stephen’s. I didn’t tell them everything I knew but I acknowledged that she had been there and had befriended a novice. What she told them is that she had a meeting with a nun last Sunday morning.”

“Oh my. I suppose we can expect that Detective Fox knows this.”

“I’m sure of it. He’s spoken with them.”

“Chris, I never met—”

“Joseph,” I said, interrupting, “I don’t want to hear this. I believe you. I have never doubted you. I will never doubt you.”

“Thank God for good friends,” she said.

“Amen.”

Eddie had awakened from his nap before we had reached home, and after being belted into the car seat for a long time, he was hard to keep down. We took a walk and ran into an acquaintance of his with her mother. The four of us stood around, the mothers talking, the children rolling around on the grass and giggling. When they grew tired of each other, we moved on.

It was a beautiful day followed by a warm evening. After Eddie was settled in his crib, Jack and I sat outside. We had taken the summer furniture out only recently and it was good to use it.

“I guess this new development means that Hope isn’t Randy’s mother,” I said.

“I would think so. She’d hardly submit to a test if she were.”

“So that narrows down my suspects. If it’s the woman who worked in the insurance office, I’ll never find out. I wish I’d taken pictures of those women to show Mrs. DelBello.”

“You could get a picture of Sister Joseph to her.”

I looked at him. “So she could rule it out.”

“Why not?”

I thought about it. “I couldn’t do that without her permission. And I’m not sure she’d give it. And any picture I could send would be in her habit, which is not the way Mrs. DelBello would remember her.”

“The family probably has old ones.”

I felt myself getting tense. There were lots of old pictures in Little B.’s album but I didn’t want to put Joseph’s life in the hands of someone who might make an error, whose real vision as well as her recalled vision could have deteriorated in twenty years.

“You don’t want to do it, do you?” Jack said.

“No.” I got up and walked around, looking at the new green shoots in the garden. It was my favorite season and my enjoyment had been curtailed by this mess. “I want to find Randy’s mother, her birth mother. And I want to find her killer. I don’t care if it’s the same person or two different people. I just don’t want to put Joseph on the spot.”

“Well, let’s kick it around a little. You’re convinced that whoever gave birth to Randy Collins knew Sister Joseph and used her identity.”

“It has to be. If it wasn’t Joseph herself, it was someone who knew her.”

“Then this blood test that Hope is taking may help your case. If she comes up a possible mother, then her
sisters would be possible mothers, too. Maybe you should give more attention to the sister who was married and had two kids already.”

“It’s mind-boggling. I just don’t see how she could be the one. Let’s wait and see what happens before I try to make that case.”

“You know, I’m impressed with Randy Collins. She must have been a pretty smart cookie. Think about what she accomplished. She got Mrs. DelBello to give her just enough information that she could pick it up and run with it. She got herself a job at the hospital where she was born and figured out how to find the right files and dig out the right information. She sounds like a real treasure.”

“You’re right. I could have hired her to help me out on some of those homicides. She must have found me in some file at St. Stephen’s. I can’t think how else she would have come to me.”

“So how did she do it?” Jack asked.

“There’s a lot of trust at St. Stephen’s, Jack. The nuns don’t lock their doors and everyone respects everyone else’s privacy. If you want to talk to someone, you knock and she calls you in. I’ve never really thought about it, but I don’t think Joseph locks the door to her office either.”

“Is that where the records are kept?”

“Not all of them, but most. There are others. Angela has a file in the telephone room. She can look up anyone’s address or phone number in a minute. If a nun got sick, Angela would be able to find a sister’s or brother’s or niece’s phone number just like that.”

“Any secrets in her file?”

“I doubt it. What secrets would a nun have? If she had a boyfriend somewhere, she wouldn’t be a nun anymore, not if that fact were in someone’s file.”

“What do you suppose is in the file Sister Joseph keeps on you?”

I had never thought about it. I had never sat with Joseph while she had a file on me open in front of her although I had no doubt that one existed. When I entered St. Stephen’s, my aunt presented the convent with the required dowry. There was a record of that along with the amount I had been allowed to take out in order to buy a car so I could travel to Oakwood once a month to visit Aunt Meg and Gene. When I left for good, the remainder of my dowry was returned to me. So all of that would be in my file. What else? Perhaps any behavior problems that I exhibited as a young girl, perhaps my sadness at being separated from my family. If any student of mine or her parents complained about me or commended me, that would be included, too.

I told these things to Jack. “I’m sure my license number was recorded somewhere, too. I went to the doctor from time to time. I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a record of that.”

“So it’s possible that by the time Randy landed on our doorstep she knew a little something about you.”

“If that was of any interest to her. I can’t imagine why she would want to know if I had an ear infection at the age of sixteen.”

“But she might have known that Sister Joseph was your spiritual director while you were a nun.”

“I would think so, yes.”

“And maybe if she spent one long night going through those files she could have found out the names of the
novices, what classes they were taking, and that sort of stuff.”

“So she knew where to go to meet Tina. It wasn’t a lucky accident.”

“Nothing was an accident in that girl’s life,” Jack said. “Except getting killed. Where was Tina last Sunday?”

“She was home with her parents. Joseph spoke to her. She came back to St. Stephen’s after Randy was dead.”

“You see what I’m driving at? You’ve got a trusting bunch of women who wouldn’t turn a hair if they saw a novice walk down the hall, even if they couldn’t see her face. If it was a man, you’d hear from them. So if Randy was careful, she could get around. If she spent most of one night in Sister Joseph’s office, could she get back into the dorm before daylight?”

“No. It’s locked. But she could go to the chapel and kneel with her head down.”

“Then that’s what she did. And she not only searched your file and Tina’s file, you can bet she went through Sister Joseph’s as well. She knew that Sister Joseph had been in Ohio the year Randy was born. So Randy now knew it from two sources, the hospital file and the convent’s.”

It made a lot of sense. She had prepared herself well, going so far as to steal Tina’s handbag in case she had to show ID somewhere. It had convinced me when I found it. “You know,” I said, “I wrote a long letter to Joseph from here about a week after I left the convent. I kind of poured out my heart.”