Read Online Snow Globes and Hand Grenades by Kevin Killeen - Free Book Online

God’s help, we will find the truth,” said Father Ernst. He wore his usual black priest uniform, and his long leather coat rested over the back his chair. He was scanning a Vatican monthly newsletter article on recent sightings of Mary in South America.
    â€œWe have to be ready to be tough, to be assertive, and to use the most modern investigative techniques,” added Detective Kurtz. Clad in a clean, blue uniform shirt he had ironed that morning, Kurtz drummed his fingernails on the wooden desk and looked at the clock. It was 7:35. Everyone, including Monsignor O’Day, was supposed to be there at 7:30.
    â€œHe said he would come,” Sister Helen said. “He’s probably just arranging some official papers for the meeting.” More than anyone, Sister Helen wasfamiliar with the late arrivals of Monsignor O’Day. She fidgeted with her short gray hair, which she had cut every few weeks to stay businesslike and efficient.
    â€œMaybe he’s not coming,” Detective Kurtz said, “Maybe he’s ill today. Let’s get started.”
    The door from the priestly kitchen above the rectory creaked opened, and Monsignor O’Day, wearing black pants and a white shirt with his sleeves rolled up and top button undone, descended the steps with a plate of Eggo waffles, lightly humming “When Irish Eyes are Smiling”.
    Everyone stood to greet him. “Monsignor,” they all said as he sat down.
    â€œOh, please sit down, forgive my late breakfast. I was reading the sports section after 6:30 Mass and forgot the time.”
    â€œMonsignor O’Day,” Sister Helen said, “this is Father Ernst and Detective Kurtz. They’re here to help with the investigation.”
    Monsignor O’Day nodded to them and picked up his fork. Detective Kurtz eyed the stack of three Eggo waffles with two pats of butter and maple syrup running down the side.
    â€œWe can’t let whoever did this get away with it,” said Miss Kleinschmidt. “I have some ideas who did it.”
    â€œOh, I forgot my napkin,” Monsignor O’Day said. “Never mind. I’ll just be careful. My mother used to make me waffles when I was a lad. She was a loving person. Were you men close to your mothers?”
    â€œWhy, of course,” Father Ernst said. “She was very devoted, to the church and to me. Her name was Mary.”
    Everyone looked over at Detective Kurtz. “My mother and I were very close when I was young, yes.”
    Monsignor O’Day cut a big section of waffle and lifted it halfway to his mouth. “I’m sorry, did she pass away?” O’Day said.
    â€œNo, she’s still living.”
    O’Day nodded thoughtfully. “Well, what do you mean you ‘were close when you were young’?” he said. “Are you still close?”
    Everyone looked at Kurtz. This question was not on the agenda.
    â€œIn our own way, yes, but I don’t mind saying … well, I suppose she still holds a grudge about the speeding ticket I gave her when I was on motorcycle patrol.”
    â€œHow fast was she going?”
    â€œThirty-five in a thirty.”
    â€œYou gave your own mother a ticket for just going five miles over?”
    â€œThe law is blind.”
    O’Day pushed away his plate and pulled a deck of playing cards from his shirt pocket. Sister Helen rubbed her forehead, dreading a display of Queen of Hearts card tricks again. “Monsignor O’Day,” Sister Helen said, “these men have volunteered their time to share with us their plans for the investigation.”
    â€œProbably just some boys blowing off steam, end of the year pranks,” O’Day said. “Do you really think an investigation is the way to go? I mean have you been outside today? It’s a lovely spring day. We need to open a window down here.”
    Father Ernst cleared his throat and sat up straight in his chair. “Monsignor