Betrayed (Rosato & DiNunzio, #2)(29)

Father Keegan cocked his head. “I don’t know any of them, unfortunately. I doubt that she had much money, a will, or anything of that sort.”

“Father Keegan, was Daniella here today?”

“No, she wasn’t, but she isn’t as devoted as Iris.”

“Do you know where we can find her? We don’t even know if she knows that Iris has passed.”

“I’m sure she does. Word travels fast in this community. Daniella would be at the mission. She works there, too.”

“Is that nearby?” Judy asked, thinking ahead.





Chapter Fourteen

“Damn, we should’ve gotten the address.” Judy drove back and forth on the same two-lane road, trying to find the mission, but they kept getting lost. “Then I could have plugged it into the GPS.”

“Father Keegan said it was next to the firehouse,” Aunt Barb said, her face to the window. “There’s the firehouse straight ahead, and the only thing next to it is that strip mall.”

Judy stopped at a traffic light, eyeing the run-down strip mall of three crappy storefronts, one of which had a handmade going-out-of-business sign. “Can you have a mission in a storefront?”

“Pull in. Let’s see.” Aunt Barb clucked. “You know, I’ve been down this road a bunch of times, but I’ve never seen a mission. It’s as if all of this existed around me, but I never noticed it before.”

“I know what you mean.” Judy was thinking about how much her Aunt Barb hadn’t noticed about Iris. The hidden cash made her feel uneasy, and it seemed to mirror what her aunt was saying about the neighborhood; there were things in plain sight that they should have seen, but they’d missed.

“The light’s green,” her aunt said, pulling Judy out of her reverie. She cruised forward, crossed the intersection, and turned into the crappy strip mall, which held a tiny parking lot in front of the stores. She spotted a battered Hyundai leaving the strip mall from the back.

“Maybe it’s behind the stores. Again, no sign.”

“Evidently, everybody who needs it knows where it is.”

“Right.” Judy steered around the back, entered a littered back lot, and hit the brakes quickly, surprised to find small children running around, playing on old upholstered couches, used card tables, scattered mattresses. “Yikes, good thing I was going slow.”

“I’ll say.”

“I guess this is it.” Judy eyed a rusty white Dumpster that read SOCIETY OF ST. VINCENT DE PAUL. The back of the building was a dingy gray stucco cluttered with electric meters and heating units next to an unmarked glass door, which stood open, propped up by a cinderblock.

“Hey, that’s my ottoman!” Aunt Barb exclaimed, opening the door.

“What do you mean?” Judy cut the ignition, took her purse, and got out of the car.

“That flowery ottoman, next to the maroon couch.” Aunt Barb pointed, climbing out of the passenger seat.

“I don’t remember that ottoman.”

“You wouldn’t. It’s from the old house, and I kept it in the garage because it didn’t go with the new furniture. I always thought I’d get it reupholstered but I never got around to it. I gave it to Iris when we cleaned out the garage. She said it was pretty, and I thought she could use it.”

“When did you clean out the garage?” Judy’s ears pricked up, wondering when Iris had put the money in her storage chest.

“About a week ago. I was feeling better and I wanted to clear the decks before my mastectomy.”

“Was it your idea to clean the garage?”

“Yes, and I totally forgot about the ottoman when we went to Iris’s apartment. She didn’t have the room for it, so she must’ve brought it here.” Aunt Barb shook her head when they reached the ottoman. “An ottoman is a rich-people thing, when you think about it. It requires room. Space. I’m not rich by any means, but I have room for an ottoman. I assumed she did, too.” Aunt Barb sighed. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’ve been so insensitive, living in my own little world.”

“That’s not true. You didn’t know.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to know, or maybe I should have known. Isn’t that the height of insensitivity? That you just didn’t know, because you couldn’t imagine that people lived a different life from the one you do?” Aunt Barb kept shaking her head. “Isn’t that the very definition of insensitivity? Of selfishness?”

“Not at all. You were being generous, and you can’t find a negative in that.” Judy guided her aunt toward the open door. “Aunt Barb, when I was in the garage last night, I noticed that there were two plastic chests, the same type but different colors. Was one of those Iris’s?”

“Yes, I gave it to her. The purple one, for Iris. Get it?”

Judy had missed that. “What’s it for?”

“I got her my favorite gardening tools, a trowel, a spade, and the best fork for weeding. There’s only one that works really well.” Her aunt’s face fell. “Poor Iris. I don’t think I could bring myself to see that chest now.”

“You ever go in the chest?”

“No, why would I? I have my own tools.”