Just After Sunset(98)

"Dowrie," Monette agreed.

For the third time the priest invoked the name of his Boss. Then he said, "The fellow wasn't deaf-mute at all, was he?"

"I'm almost positive he was mute," Monette said, "but he sure wasn't deaf. There was a note beside the medal, on a piece of paper he tore off the phone pad. All this must have happened while my daughter and I were at the funeral home, picking out a casket. The back door was open but not jimmied. He might have been smart enough to trig the lock, but I think I just forgot and left it open when we went out."

"The note said what?"

"'Thank you for the ride,'" Monette said.

"I'll be damned." Thoughtful silence, then a soft knocking just outside the door of the confessional in which Monette sat, contemplating FOR ALL HAVE SINNED AND FALLEN SHORT OF GOD'S GLORY. Monette took back his medal. "Have you told the police?"

"Yes, of course, the whole story. They think they know who the guy is. They're familiar with the sign. His name is Stanley Doucette. He's spent years rambling around New England with that sign of his. Sort of like me, now that I think of it."

"Prior crimes of violence on his record?"

"A few," Monette said. "Fights, mostly. Once he beat a man pretty badly in a bar, and he's been in and out of mental institutions, including Serenity Hill, in Augusta. I don't think the police told me everything."

"Do you want to know everything?"

Monette considered, then said, "No."

"They haven't caught this fellow."

"They say it's only a matter of time. They say he's not bright. But he was bright enough to fool me."

"Did he fool you, son? Or did you know you were speaking to a listening ear? It seems to me that is the key question."

Monette was quiet for a long time. He didn't know if he had honestly searched his heart before, but he felt he was searching it now, and with a bright light. Not liking everything he found there but searching, yes. Not overlooking what he saw there. At least not on purpose.

"I did not," he said.

"And are you glad your wife and her lover are dead?"

In his heart, Monette instantly said yes. Aloud he said, "I'm relieved. I'm sorry to say that, Father, but considering the mess she made-and how it's apt to work out, with no trial and quiet restitution made out of the insurance money-I am relieved. Is that a sin?"

"Yes, my son. Sorry to break the news, but it is."

"Can you give me absolution?"

"Ten Our Fathers and ten Hail Marys," the priest said briskly. "The Our Fathers are for lack of charity-a serious sin but not mortal."

"And the Hail Marys?"

"Foul language in the confessional. At some point the adultery issue-yours, not hers-needs to be addressed, but now-"

"You have a lunch date. I understand."

"In truth, I've lost my appetite for lunch, although I should certainly greet my company. The main thing is, I think I'm a little too...too overwhelmed to go into your so-called road comfort just now."

"I understand."

"Good. Now son?"

"Yes?"

"Not to belabor the point, but are you sure you didn't give this man permission? Or encourage him in any way? Because then I think we'd be talking mortal sin instead of venial. I'd have to check with my own spiritual advisor to make sure, but-"

"No, Father. But do you think...is it possible that God put that guy in my car?"

In his heart, the priest instantly said yes. Aloud he said, "That's blasphemy, good for ten more Our Fathers. I don't know how long you've been outside the doors, but even you should know better. Now do you want to say something else and try for more Hail Marys, or are we done here?"

"We're done, Father."

"Then you're shriven, as we say in the trade. Go your way and sin no more. And take care of your daughter, son. Children only have one mother, no matter how she may have behaved."

"Yes, Father."

Behind the screen, the form shifted. "Can I ask you one more question?"

Monette settled back, reluctantly. He wanted to be gone. "Yes."

"You say the police think they will catch this man."

"They tell me it's only a matter of time."

"My question is, do you want the police to catch this man?"

And because what he really wanted was to be gone and say his atonement in the even more private confessional of his car, Monette said, "Of course I do."

On his way back home, he added two extra Hail Marys and two extra Our Fathers.

Ayana

I didn't think I would ever tell this story. My wife told me not to; she said no one would believe it and I'd only embarrass myself. What she meant, of course, was that it would embarrass her. "What about Ralph and Trudy?" I asked her. "They were there. They saw it, too."

"Trudy will tell him to keep his mouth shut," Ruth said, "and your brother won't need much persuading."

This was probably true. Ralph was at that time superintendent of New Hampshire School Administrative Unit 43, and the last thing a Department of Education bureaucrat from a small state wants is to wind up on one of the cable news outlets, in the end-of-the-hour slot reserved for UFOs over Phoenix and coyotes that can count to ten. Besides, a miracle story isn't much good without a miracle worker, and Ayana was gone.