Good Tidings - a Mary O'Reilly Paranormal Mystery Page 17

  “You think having a murderer gunning for you is funny?” Bradley asked. “You really have a weird sense of humor.”

  “A murderer?” Rosie gasped.

  “Gunning for our Mary?” Stanley added. “Well, what the hell are you going to do about it, Chief?”

  “Stanley, Bradley is here to help me move things to my house, so I can work from there for a while,” she explained. “And I’ve assured him that I won’t go anywhere without a friend. So, I’ll probably be bugging the two of you when I need to go somewhere.”

  “Oh, Mary, that’s no problem at all,” Rosie said.

  She turned to Bradley. “Should I be packing heat?”

  “Rosie, as a sworn law enforcement officer in the state of Illinois, I have to inform you that it is illegal to carry a concealed firearm on your person,” Bradley said.

  Stanley snorted. “What he’s saying is, yes, you ninny, pack heat, but don’t tell him about it.”

  “That’s not exactly what I was saying,” Bradley began.

  “Don’t worry about it, Chief,” Stanley interrupted. “We know what to do. So how are you getting Mary out of here?”

  Bradley shrugged. “My cruiser is at the curb in front of the office.”

  “Ain’t you got no imagination?” Stanley blustered. “If she’s a sitting duck with her blinds open, don’t you think both of you carrying her stuff out to your cruiser will be open season? I’ll pull old Betsey around back and Mary can pile her stuff in there.”

  Rosie peered at the door. “Do you think he’s on top of one of the buildings, waiting to shoot us?”

  Bradley shook his head. “I don’t think he’s a sniper, Rosie,” he said. “But we really shouldn’t discount any possibility.”

  “Well, I think it’s horrid that someone would try to kill you at Christmastime,” she said.

  “Yeah, after the holidays is much better,” Stanley muttered. “Darn fool woman.”

  “I heard that Stanley,” Rosie said.

  “I’m going to get my car,” Stanley said, “I’ll be back in five minutes.”

  Stanley walked to the door, peered out and then left.

  “Well, it looks like it’s safe,” Rosie said. “Mary, I’ll go and pick up some groceries for you. What do you need?”

  “Diet soda,” Bradley and Mary said at the same time.

  Rosie turned to Bradley. “Are you staying with Mary?”

  Bradley nodded. “Yes, we thought it would be safer if I stayed at Mary’s,” he said, “In her guest room.”

  Rosie smiled. “That’s wonderful! Wait until I tell Stanley! He’ll be so excited. I knew you weren’t gay.”

  Rosie hurried out the door, so excited about her news she didn’t remember about the potential threat.

  “What was that all about?” Bradley asked.

  Mary smiled innocently. “They’re just really happy you’re protecting me.”

  *****

  Chapter Thirty-two

  ”So, what did you learn about Private Kenney?” Mary asked, as she dished beef stew out of a large pot on her stove.

  “Well, his mother is the Kenney I was thinking of,” Rosie said, tossing a salad at the counter. “And he went to Freeport High School, graduated with the class of 1964.”

  “His best friend was Bob Sterling,” Stanley added, standing at the counter buttering a hot roll.

  “Hey, I know Bob Sterling,” Bradley said, sitting at the table. “He’s on the Fire and Police Commission. He’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah, those two were thick as thieves when they were young,” Stanley said, chuckling and buttering another roll. “Can’t remember the number of times I caught them in my crab apple tree.”

  “Did they serve together in Vietnam?” Mary asked.

  Rosie nodded, carrying the salad to the table. “Yes, they did,” she said. “Bob was with Pat when he died. They said it changed his life. He never married.”

  “Yeah, death is a life changing event,” Mary said, “no matter which side of the fence you’re standing on.”

  Mary carried the bowls to the table and snatched the basket of rolls from Stanley. “You know we were going to share these,” she scolded.

  “Well, if you’re going to be selfish,” Stanley grumbled, taking his place at the table.

  “Thanks for saving them,” Bradley said. “I was getting worried.”

  Rosie laughed. “I think there’s plenty of food to go around.”

  “So, getting back to business,” Mary teased. “Was there anyone else in town that was his friend?”

  “You know, he was sweet on that gal over at the Courthouse… Linda Lincoln,” Stanley said.

  “Really?” Mary replied. “Linda? She is the sweetest person in the world.”

  “Yeah, she lost her husband back about a year ago,” Rosie said, “Poor thing.”

  “Wow! I didn’t know.”

  “Well, I think you’d just come into town,” Rosie explained. “You probably hadn’t even met her yet. Must be hard to lose two people you love.”

  “I can’t imagine,” Bradley said.

  “Well, maybe you don’t love the second one as much as the first,” Stanley suggested. “Maybe you play it safe, so your heart won’t get banged up.”

  “Seems to me that you can’t pick when you fall in love,” Rosie said. “You can only choose to accept it and enjoy it, or run away from it.”

  “Spoken like a gal who has enjoyed her fill of being in love,” Stanley said.

  “Nothing wrong with being in love,” Rosie grinned. “It’s my favorite pastime.”

  “Getting back to Private Kenney…I wonder if his personal effects were sent home,” Mary said. “It seems the letter he’s looking for is the key.”

  “Do you want me to approach his mother?” Rosie asked. “I can say the Historical Society is thinking about doing something to honor Veterans next year and wondered if she still had some of his things we could borrow.”

  “That would be wonderful, Rosie,” Mary said. “Then we aren’t opening up too many old wounds.”

  Rosie and Stanley left after dinner; Mary pulled her laptop out and sat in front of the fireplace. Bradley sat on the couch flipping through some reports. Suddenly Mary sat up straight. “What?” Bradley asked, instantly alert.

  “I just realized,” Mary said, a little bit of panic in her voice.

  Bradley sat down next to her on the floor. “What? What is it?”

  “It’s after the first of December and I still don’t have my Christmas tree up.”

  Bradley exhaled deeply. “You’re kidding right?”

  Mary shook her head. “No, my family usually puts the tree up the day after Thanksgiving. I’ve wasted a whole week.”

  “I don’t think I would classify what we did last week as wasting,” he said.

  She smiled. “Yeah, but we don’t have any excuses now.”

  “What? It’s dark outside,” he protested. “We can’t find a tree in the dark.”

  “Oh, I already have my tree,” she said. “I went to the tree farm and cut it the day before Thanksgiving, to beat the rush. It’s in my garage in a bucket of water.”

  “And you want me to…”

  “Please Bradley?”

  He rubbed his shoulder. “I don’t know, I have this wound,” he began.

  “I’ll make popcorn,” she said.

  “Real popcorn? Not microwave?”

  “Real popcorn with real butter.”

  Bradley sighed. “You run a hard bargain, Mary O’Reilly,” he said with a smile. “Where’s the tree stand?”

  “In the box next to the tree,” she said.

  A few minutes later Bradley came back in carrying the tree. “This is it?” he asked. “This is your tree?”

  Mary looked at the slightly lopsided and scrawny tree and nodded.

  “I thought you went early,” he said. “This was all they had left?”

  “No,” Mary admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed. “It’s a R
udolph Tree.”

  “A what?”

  “You know,” she sang. “All of the other reindeers used to laugh and call him names; they never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games.”

  Bradley shook his head. “Sorry, still not getting it.”

  “Well, all of the other trees were big and bushy and symmetrical, and there was my tree, lopsided and a little bare and all by himself.”

  “Because all of the other Christmas trees wouldn’t let him join in any Christmas Tree games?” Bradley asked.

  “Exactly!” Mary said with a smile.

  “Mary,” Bradley said patiently, “there are no such things as Christmas Tree games.”

  “Ha! A couple months ago you thought there were no such things as ghosts,” she countered.

  He paused, looked at her and looked at the tree. “You’re kidding, right?”

  She giggled. “Yeah, but I did feel sorry for it,” she said. “Do you think it will look really bad?”

  “No, Mary, I think it will be the most beautiful tree because it’s the best loved.”

  “Bradley, you’re a poet.”

  “No, I’m just beginning to see the world from a different perspective.”

  Two hours later, the popcorn was popped and devoured, and Bradley was putting the angel on the top of the tree. Mary stood back, watching him, her hands clasped in excitement. “Oh, this is just beautiful, you did a great job,” she said.

  “Yeah, imagine my surprise when I found that all of your lights weren’t neatly put away in last year’s containers,” he grumbled.

  “But didn’t that make you feel more at home?” she asked.

  He turned and glared at her. “No!”

  She laughed out loud. “Okay, a little more to the left and she will be perfect,” Mary directed.

  Bradley twisted the angel to the left and stood back.

  “Now comes the best part,” Mary said. “When I say three, you need to switch off the living room lights.”

  Bradley positioned himself next to the light switch and Mary knelt down next to the tree. She plugged the tree in and yelled, “Three!”

  Bradley flipped the switch, now all of the lights in the house were off . The little tree illuminated the room in sparkles of white, green, red and blue. “Isn’t this great?” she asked, moving next to him and looking at the tree.

  He had to admit the transformation was amazing. Who would have thought such a scrawny tree could end up being so beautiful? Mary would.

  He glanced down at her upturned face, joy written clearly across it. Where’s the mistletoe when you need it, he thought.

  *****

  Chapter Thirty-three

  ”Hi, Linda, this is Mary O’Reilly. How are you doing?”

  Mary sat back on her couch and put her feet up. Working from home wasn’t too bad after all.

  “I’m working on a case and I heard you might be able to help me on it,” she continued. “I was wondering if you’d like to come over for lunch today. I’m working from home and I have a spinach quiche in the oven.”

  Mary nodded.

  “How does eleven-thirty sound? Perfect. See you then.”

  She put the phone down, walked over to look at her Christmas tree and smiled. In the light of day she could see the little imperfections the nighttime Christmas lights hid. She grinned at the large clumps of tinsel Bradley had tossed at the tree. No, Mary, this is more realistic, he’d said.

  “What’s realistic about tinsel? It’s not like it grows naturally,” Mary said, shaking her head and separating the strands.

  “Hey, are you fixing my tinsel?”

  Mary jumped and then turned around. She took one look at Bradley and her heart flipped over in her chest. Dang, he looks good in his uniform, all fresh shaven and smelling like a man.

  “I wasn’t fixing it,” she lied. “I was examining it so I can make mine more realistic in the future.”

  He laughed. “Remind me never to use you in court on my side.”

  “Why not?” she asked, “I always tell the truth.”

  Bradley snorted.

  “Hey there are muffins on the counter, if you’re interested.”

  “Blueberry muffins?” he asked.

  She grinned. “Are there any other kind?”

  Bradley grabbed a muffin and bit into it. “So, if we never catch Kevin, can I live here forever?”

  She laughed. “I don’t know how your wife would feel…”

  She stopped and bit her lip. “Sorry, that was fairly thoughtless of me,” she said.

  “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a shrug. “I know it’s a strange situation.”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I understand strange situations. I live one.”

  He laughed and grabbed a second muffin. “I’ll be at the station most of the day,” he said, “are you going to be okay?”

  “Linda’s coming over for lunch. I want to ask her about Patrick Kenney,” she said. “Then I’m thinking of going with Rosie to Patrick’s mother’s house.”

  “Okay, just be careful out there,” he said with a smile.

  “Yes sir!”

  Linda Lincoln’s title was County Clerk, but anyone who had any dealings with her realized that she single-handedly ran the county. If she didn’t personally have the information you needed in her steel-trap of a mind, she could put her fingers on it in moments. She was simply amazing and Mary really admired her.

  She arrived precisely at eleven-thirty and offered Mary a small pot of narcissus wrapped in a plaid Christmas fabric and bright red bow. “They are so beautiful,” Mary said, “Thank you.”

  “It’s not every day I get such a nice invitation to lunch,” Linda replied. “It’s the least I can do. Besides, Deininger Floral Shop had them in the window and I couldn’t resist. I bought another pot for myself.”

  “They must love you there,” Mary laughed, setting the flowers in the middle of the table.

  “Well, they do tend to wave me over when they have something new in their window,” she said with a smile. “And I don’t have a whole lot of willpower.”

  Mary offered Linda a seat and brought the lunch over. They ate and chatted about the city and the various people and shops in town. Finally, when they were done, Mary filled Linda’s glass again and took out her notepad.

  “Do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions?”

  “No, I don’t mind at all,” Linda offered.

  “This might be a little personal,” Mary warned.

  “Okay, now I’m intrigued,” she said. “Whatever could you be working on that would involve me?”

  “Private Patrick Kenney,” Mary said.

  Linda took a deep breath and sat back against her chair. “Patrick. It’s been such a long time since someone said his name,” she said.

  “Does it hurt for you to talk about him?” Mary asked.

  “No. That was a long time ago,” she said, “A different lifetime ago.”

  “I understand you dated Patrick in high school and then when he was deployed, you were waiting for him?”

  “Yes,” Linda said, “we dated throughout high school and I said I’d wait for him. But, at the time it was just what you said. You know, you don’t really understand what you’re agreeing to, but it sounds so dramatic and noble. High school girls are nothing, if not dramatic.”

  Mary laughed. “Oh, yes, I remember those days.”

  “But something happened to Patrick over there that changed him,” she said. “Suddenly his letters were deeper, more thoughtful. They were poetry. I really fell in love with Patrick when he was overseas.”

  “Letters were important to both of you?” Mary asked.

  Linda nodded. “Yes, in those days you lived for letters. There was no other way to communicate. And letters could take weeks to get back home,” she explained. “I rushed to the mailbox every day in hopes of getting another letter from Patrick.”

  “Wow, it sounds like he was incredible.”

  “The boy
that left Freeport was just that, a boy,” she said. “But the man that wrote me those letters. He stole my heart and, in all honesty, I never got it back again.”