Page 41 of Promise Keeper

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Ben sat beside Irene on the couch. I'd called him and he rushed right over. "Do you want me to call Dad?" he asked her. "Would it be easier to tell me with him here?"

"Your dad? No, why would that make anything easier?" She stroked Ellsworth's soft gray fur where he sat on the arm of the couch.

"Okay, then whenever you're ready tell me what happened."

She swiveled toward him and put a hand on his cheek. "Maybe you should call Sheriff Reins. I don't want you to have to arrest your own mother."

"Mom, let's just start from the beginning."

She dropped her hand, folded both in her lap, and took a deep breath. "When I brought Ellsworth home from your house, I set up his bed and toys over there by the fireplace where I always keep them. The next thing I know, he's carrying a finger around in his mouth." Irene pressed her hand to her heart. "It about gave me a heart attack."

"I can imagine. What did you do next?" Ben asked, easing her through the story.

"I didn't knowwhatto do. Your father was off somewhere with his buddies. I should've called you. I'm so sorry I didn't call and ask what I should do." She started tearing up again.

"It's okay, Mom. Try to keep calm. What did you end up doing with the finger?"

"I put on that old pair of gloves your father uses to clean the gutters, and I had to chase this rascal around the house. He finally dropped it under my bed."

Picturing Irene wearing old dirty work gloves chasing a cat with a finger in his mouth around her house was almost more than I could bear with a straight face.

"I tripped over the nightstand and down I went. Ellsworth started hissing, being protective of his finger. He attacked and scratched my arm up and I got a nasty rug burn on my knee," she said, and that was the tip of the iceberg for me.

I jumped up from my chair, coughing. "Water," I sputtered, and made a beeline for the kitchen.

"There are bottles of water in the fridge," Irene called.

I opened the fridge and grabbed one, willing myself under control. I'd never wish ill on anyone, but the idea of Mean Irene getting hers from her precious cat was too ironic. She could be a wonderful person, and then she could be the person who called me up in front of a tribunal to be scorned by her friends. Since nothing serious had happened to her, I'd allow myself a tiny bit of pleasure from her getting a bit of payback.

"...I had the bone in my hand," she was saying when I came back into the living room, "and saw that it was more than one, it was a whole finger, knuckles and all!" Her face was white now, and her lips pale. "And it was wearing a ring--a gold signet ring. And it had dried blood on it! It was horrific!" Her hands shook and she squeezed them between her knees. "All I could think about was what Fiona had faced with the accusations. I didn't want that to happen to me. I had to get rid of that finger! You can understand that, can't you? I'm the President of The Historical Daughters of Metamora. I can't have that dark mark on my reputation. A finger! In my home!"

"All right," Ben said. "Tell me what you did with it."

"Isn't it obvious? I got in my car, drove to Fiona and Jim's, pretended I was there for a visit, but I knew they were both at the train depot. Then I went around back and tossed it in that mud pit when the workers weren't watching."

"You planted evidence in their yard?" Ben asked, his voice remarkably even for a man who just found out his mother was a criminal.

"Evidence of what? We already knew that man was dead--dead for a century! Fiona was already a suspect, so nothing I did put her on that list. You can thank your wife for that. I only went along with what everyone already thought."

"Okay. We'll need to get all of this down in writing." He reached in his messenger bag, took out a notebook, and handed it to her. "While you do that, I'm going to make a call so we can get Fiona out of hot water."

"I'm going to head home," I said. Now that the show was over, my job here was done.

Liam lay on the floor below the couch gazing longingly up at Ellsworth. "Come on, pup," I said. "He lives here. You're coming home with me."

"You might as well take him," Irene said. "Stewart won't take care of him when I'm in jail."

"You aren't going to jail."

"You heard Ben. I planted evidence. That has to be some kind of crime."

"You aren't going to jail, Irene."

"If I do, I want you to have Ellsworth though," she said, rubbing the cat's ears. "He does have a particular fondness for that dog."

"We'd love to have him anytime."

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