Read Online F Train by Richard Hilary Weber - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Richard Hilary Weber
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teeth were bright and still all hers, it appeared. Her handshake was strong, even when grasping Frank’s rock of a hand.
“I’m Sister Julia, I help people.” The voice had a Caribbean lilt. “Yes, I’m Marie’s mother, and I’ve been waiting for you. I didn’t want to go calling you up and disturbing you, you got so much to do. No words can ever describe my loss, I swear it’s beyond all human measure.”
Before Flo could respond, and as if Sister Julia already knew all the answers anyway, the healer gripped her arm, steering her into a dimly lighted room.
“My office. Please, Detective, do sit down.”
Flo sat on a metal folding chair beside a card table. On the table were two teacups and a black iron teapot. Sister Julia reclined on a chaise longue, and in the soft glow of an imitation Tiffany lamp her eyes appeared as shattered prisms, shards of broken glass.
“Thank you for coming, my dear, I appreciate the gesture. I’m grateful for whatever the police can do. Cooperation is always my guiding light. And now we can finally find out what’s really the truth in all this. We can pray together for my daughter’s soul. And for all their souls…. Won’t you join me in prayer, my dear?”
The old woman reached across and squeezed Flo’s arm as if to reassure her,
Everything will be all right, only listen to me
…
Flo slid forward in her chair, hesitantly like an intruder or an apostate returning to the fold after many years, uncertain now if she’d still be welcome.
“You have something silver, my dear?” As much a statement as a question.
Flo produced a silver Marine Corps key ring, a gift from Eddie. But she remained hesitant. This wasn’t shaping up as any typical police questioning. If the
Post
’s Terry Dangler—or that faker Howie Gerald—ever got a whiff of this, goodbye career in homicide investigations, hello squad-car night-duty patrol in Bushwick or somewhere equally forsaken.
“Please, cross my palm,” Sister Julia Priester said, and into the circle of light she extended her broad, open, heavily creased hand. “Go ahead, honey, just make a cross.”
“Mrs. Priester, we have a lot to talk about, I have questions about Marie—”
“So do I. Still first things first now, my dear, now let’s do this right, if we want the right answers. If we want to get to the bottom of so much misfortune.”
And with the key ring, Flo sketched a cross on Sister Julia Priester’s wrinkled palm.
“Now your hand, my dear.”
Flo, reluctant but growing more curious, wary of offending and determined to learn, held out her right hand and felt it grasped at once. The message:
Expect no hesitancy from me
.
“Look, my dear, right on this spot here, see?” Sister Julia pointed at a line on Flo’s palm. “Many children over a long lifetime…but you don’t, do you?”
“Just one daughter.”
“Your character is what it really means. You save so many lives even though you gave birth to only one. So in fact you’re actually a mother to many more people than you think, the kind of mother who truly counts…” Sister Julia Priester nodded to herself. “See? Now you can relax, my dear, nothing but the truth here. I lost my daughter in the worst way possible, my only child. You know exactly what I mean. The flower of my life gone in the springtime of her life. Stick by me because together we got to stop all this killing. And we got to pay attention to everything, no matter what the spirits say, we have to listen closely. It’s hard, I know, easier said than done. And you’re not used to this, I can see. You’re getting restless, I can see that. But we’ll get there, you’re determined, I can see that, too. Just stick by me.”
She held Flo’s hand closer to her eyes. The healer was a first-class detective who might as well as have been frisking her, amassing data before picking out the right clues. Flo knew exactly how hard picking up clues could be. How difficult the search through
“I’m Sister Julia, I help people.” The voice had a Caribbean lilt. “Yes, I’m Marie’s mother, and I’ve been waiting for you. I didn’t want to go calling you up and disturbing you, you got so much to do. No words can ever describe my loss, I swear it’s beyond all human measure.”
Before Flo could respond, and as if Sister Julia already knew all the answers anyway, the healer gripped her arm, steering her into a dimly lighted room.
“My office. Please, Detective, do sit down.”
Flo sat on a metal folding chair beside a card table. On the table were two teacups and a black iron teapot. Sister Julia reclined on a chaise longue, and in the soft glow of an imitation Tiffany lamp her eyes appeared as shattered prisms, shards of broken glass.
“Thank you for coming, my dear, I appreciate the gesture. I’m grateful for whatever the police can do. Cooperation is always my guiding light. And now we can finally find out what’s really the truth in all this. We can pray together for my daughter’s soul. And for all their souls…. Won’t you join me in prayer, my dear?”
The old woman reached across and squeezed Flo’s arm as if to reassure her,
Everything will be all right, only listen to me
…
Flo slid forward in her chair, hesitantly like an intruder or an apostate returning to the fold after many years, uncertain now if she’d still be welcome.
“You have something silver, my dear?” As much a statement as a question.
Flo produced a silver Marine Corps key ring, a gift from Eddie. But she remained hesitant. This wasn’t shaping up as any typical police questioning. If the
Post
’s Terry Dangler—or that faker Howie Gerald—ever got a whiff of this, goodbye career in homicide investigations, hello squad-car night-duty patrol in Bushwick or somewhere equally forsaken.
“Please, cross my palm,” Sister Julia Priester said, and into the circle of light she extended her broad, open, heavily creased hand. “Go ahead, honey, just make a cross.”
“Mrs. Priester, we have a lot to talk about, I have questions about Marie—”
“So do I. Still first things first now, my dear, now let’s do this right, if we want the right answers. If we want to get to the bottom of so much misfortune.”
And with the key ring, Flo sketched a cross on Sister Julia Priester’s wrinkled palm.
“Now your hand, my dear.”
Flo, reluctant but growing more curious, wary of offending and determined to learn, held out her right hand and felt it grasped at once. The message:
Expect no hesitancy from me
.
“Look, my dear, right on this spot here, see?” Sister Julia pointed at a line on Flo’s palm. “Many children over a long lifetime…but you don’t, do you?”
“Just one daughter.”
“Your character is what it really means. You save so many lives even though you gave birth to only one. So in fact you’re actually a mother to many more people than you think, the kind of mother who truly counts…” Sister Julia Priester nodded to herself. “See? Now you can relax, my dear, nothing but the truth here. I lost my daughter in the worst way possible, my only child. You know exactly what I mean. The flower of my life gone in the springtime of her life. Stick by me because together we got to stop all this killing. And we got to pay attention to everything, no matter what the spirits say, we have to listen closely. It’s hard, I know, easier said than done. And you’re not used to this, I can see. You’re getting restless, I can see that. But we’ll get there, you’re determined, I can see that, too. Just stick by me.”
She held Flo’s hand closer to her eyes. The healer was a first-class detective who might as well as have been frisking her, amassing data before picking out the right clues. Flo knew exactly how hard picking up clues could be. How difficult the search through
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