Red Room...Returned (Last Time!)

Okay...many of you asked again.  So here they are...for the last time...extra photos of the infamous Red Room ala Fifty Shades of Grey ( with, of course, some poetic license).

I'm thrilled you find my odd little room fascinating.  It was fun to make, and turned out exactly as planned.   I just hope you'll come back to follow the story...

                     
 Copyright 2012 Victoria Rocus

Baby, it's cold outside...

Maureen tends to the newest guest

 
      Scrunched into the corner of the sofa, blanket to her chin, Cassie whined to Kevin.  "Aren't you going to go out there and check on him?  Some thing's obviously wrong!"

     Fr. Kevin griped the rifle tighter across his chest.  "The Sheriff specifically said to stay inside.  I think we should listen to him."

      From under her breath, Cassie mumbled something nasty, and Kevin was pretty sure she called him a "chicken shit".  Apparently his sister heard it too, because behind him, he felt her stiffen.   He prayed that the Sheriff would return soon, before he he was forced to follow him out the door.

       The point became moot as the Sheriff pushed through the heavy wooden door, a large wicker basket in his arms.  The strange noise was muffled, softened by soggy yarn blanket stretched over the top.  "This... you're not going to believe," Beckett warned.

       Kevin expected a basket full of kittens.  Or possibly, some wet and frightened puppies.  He was therefore shocked when Beckett whipped off the cloth, revealing a very damp, howling baby girl.

      For a moment, everyone was too stunned to speak, until Cassie broke the spell.  "It's a baby", she murmured.

        "Duh. Ya think?"  Maureen shot Cassie a snotty look, and leaned over the basket, lifting up the baby, and cuddling her at chest level.  "Oh, you poor little angel!  Who would do such a horrible thing?  Oh my gosh, she's soaking wet.  Ted, do you have some clean towels I could use to dry her off?"

        The Sheriff wandered off, and returned shortly with a stack of soft, cotton towels.  He handed a few to Maureen, and used the remaining one to dry himself off.  "This whole thing is weird. The basket was just tossed on the porch.  I almost tripped over it in the dark."  Raking the towel through his wet hair, he continued,  "My cabin is set in the middle of nowhere, on private property.  Why would anyone decide to leave a baby here?  There's a small town just about 15 miles east.  Much more populated.  So why not leave the baby at the local hospital, or the fire station there, where someone would find her right away?  It just doesn't make sense."

       Maureen rummaged through the basket with her free arm, the baby finally quieting down.  "Well, at least they sent some supplies along.  There's several fresh diapers, two clean sleepers, and some bottles and powdered formula.  We're okay for a little while."  As she removed the items and placed them on the sofa, a damp envelope fluttered from inside one of the sleepers, and fell to the floor.

       Beckett leaned down and retrieved the scrap.  Flipping it over, he read the wording scribbled across the front, and made a face.  "Uh...Fr. O'Kenney...this is addressed to you."  He handed it to Kevin, who stood there, not sure what to do with the envelope.

       "Open it up, Kev.  Maybe it will tell us who this baby belongs to."  Ignoring the oddity that the letter was addressed to her own brother, she tucked the dozing infant in her arms, and sat in a wooden rocker near the fireplace.

        Fr. Kevin picked at the sealed letter, careful not to rip the wet paper, and pulled out a single sheet.
Reading the letter, his eyes grew wide, but he didn't say a word.  Stunned, he handed the letter to the Sheriff, who read it aloud to the group.

       "Dear Fr. O'Kenney,
             I am so sorry.  I tried to keep you out of this whole mess, but things have changed for the worse.  I can no longer handle any of this on my own.  Please take good care of Marissa, and do what you think best."

       Beckett peered intently at the note, bringing it closer to his face.  "I can't seem to read the signature.  The ink has run from the rain.  It looks like it begins with an 'L', or maybe a 'P', but the rest of it is just too smeary to figure out."

       The room remained silent for nearly a full minute, all eyes directed at Kevin, who could feel the heat rising from under his collar.  He knew he should say something, but was at a total loss for words.  He had no idea what the letter meant, or who it was from.  It hadn't made a bit of sense to him.

       The Sheriff cleared his throat, hesitated, and then asked, "So, Father, what do you know about
this baby?"

        Kevin looked across the room to his sister, whose expression he couldn't read.  Next to him, Cassie propped herself on the end of the sofa, with what seemed to be a smirk set across her face.  "Honestly, Sheriff.  I don't know any more than the rest of you!  As far as I know, none of my parishioners were... expecting...I...I...have no idea who...who this baby belongs to.  Or how it got here."  He knew the stammering made him sound guilty, but he was totally freaked, and couldn't get the words out clearly.

        Beckett rubbed his hand across his face in frustration.  " You have to know something, Father. Whoever left this baby obviously knew you were going to be here.  And the note seems to imply that you were somehow...involved."

         "Well, I did tell everyone at Thanksgiving Mass this morning that I was going to be at your cabin for the week end, but that was all.  I didn't even know where this place was myself."  Snapping his fingers, he suddenly remembered something important, and continued, "But, there was this strange white Volvo that seemed to be following us for the last hour or so.  I wanted to say something sooner, but felt you'd think I was nuts.  And then, about a mile before we got here, it turned off in another direction."

         "A car was following us, and you didn't think maybe you should tell me?  Damn, Father, none of this makes any sense.  I feel like we're missing key points here."

        Cassie leaned in, pointing a red lacquered nail at the baby. "And I don't know if anyone else has noticed, but that baby has some fine looking red hair."  She let out a giggle, and shook a finger at Fr. Kevin.   "Looks like somebody's been a very naughty boy."

          From her position across the room, Maureen quickly jumped up, startling the sleeping baby, who let out a yowl.  " Just what are you implying, Cassie McKreedy?  You shut your filthy little mouth, or I'll close it for you!  That is not my brother's baby!  Kevin would never break his vows!"

         Cassie crossed the room, meeting Maureen halfway.  "You are so naive, you silly bitch.  Men are men.  What they do for a living doesn't matter.  Inside, they're all the same.  Something I'm sure you already know, little Miss Dumped."  She turned and looked directly at Kevin, "And we all have our secrets, don't we, Father?"

          Kevin saw the rage in his sister's face, and should have anticipated what was going to happen next.  Before he could stop her, she plopped the crying baby into his arms, and went head first into Cassie, grabbing a hunk of hair, and twisting.  It was obvious that Cassie was no stranger to street brawls, and used her free hand to sock Maureen straight in the gut.  In a matter of seconds, the two were rolling around the leather sofa, punches and kicks flying in every direction.

         He wanted to intervene, to stop the fracas before anyone truly got hurt, but he wasn't sure what to do with the howling baby in his arms.  The Sheriff however, got to them first, pulling both apart, and grabbing a woman in each arm.

          "Knock it off, ladies!  Right now!"  The harder they struggled, the tighter he held them.  "You look absolutely ridiculous, and I'm embarrassed for you both.  Now, you will cease this childish behavior immediately!"

          Kevin hoped Beckett wasn't going to actually release them.  He was pretty sure a little scolding wasn't going to stop either of those hellions from going at it again.  But to his amazement, the women looked sheepish, and after a few seconds, he released his hold, and they quietly went to opposite sides of the room.

       Staring them both down, the Sheriff continued, "Now...Father Kevin and I are going outside to bring in the rest of the luggage, and supplies.  You ladies will act like civilized human beings while we are gone.  When I return, we will all work together to get this food warmed up, and we will have a polite, adult, Thanksgiving dinner.  Have I made myself clear?"  He waited until he had affirmation from each of the two woman, and then said, "Good.  Father, if you would please give me a hand?" And without another word, he turned and stomped out of the cabin.

         Completely mortified, and not wanting to deal with either of the women on his own, he plopped the squalling baby into Maureen's arms, and silently followed the Sheriff to the car.

                          ____________________________________________________

        The women kept to their word, and avoided coming no closer than three feet to each other.  Once everything was unpacked, the four of them methodically warmed the food, and set the table, all in relative silence, while their newest visitor observed from her spot in an emptied bureau drawer.  It was, in Kevin's opinion, the most awkward Thanksgiving dinner he had ever attended, and he was most thankful when it ended, and he could retire to the privacy of one of Beckett's guest rooms.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Rocus

Thanksgiving Dinner...the hard way.

   

 

       



                                       


       

   





 

Over the River, and Through the Woods...

The group arrives at Beckett's cabin

       It was clear that punctuality was a code the Sheriff lived by.  He arrived, as promised, at exactly twelve noon.  Not a minute earlier.  Not a minute later.  Because he seemed a creature of habit, Kevin expected him to be driving the familiar black and white patrol car, so he was caught off guard when a  new, black, Cadillac Escalade pulled into the rectory driveway.

      Ted slid out the driver's side of the SUV, leaving the huge car idling. "Happy Thanksgiving, Father.  We about ready to go?"

      "Happy Thanksgiving to you too, Sheriff.  I'm ready.  Just waiting on Maureen.  She's wrapping up a few goodies she made for the weekend."

       Beckett looked at the watch on his wrist, and at the darkening sky.  "I'd like to get on the road as soon as possible, 'specially with this storm following us the whole way.  Some of the back roads can be a little nasty when they're wet."

       As if on cue, Maureen stepped out, balancing her luggage and several bulky shopping bags in both hands.  "Happy Thanksgiving, Ted.  You can't believe how excited I am.  This is going to be so awesome!"

      The Sheriff gave her a warm smile, amused by her apparent enthusiasm.  "We aim to please, Miss Momo.  Here...let me give you a hand with the bags."

      He trotted to her side, relieving her of the heavy load, and making Kevin feel a bit guilty that he hadn't thought to help her first.  He locked the front door of the rectory, and joined them near the car.

       "I was just telling your brother, Mo, that we should get a move on.  I'd like to try and out race this storm.  Rather not drive in a 'Nor Easter if I don't have to.   By the way, what did you do with Basil while we're gone?"

       "Mrs. Hoffman, from down the street, offered to take him for me.  I thought it best to leave him behind."

         "I agree.  My Maggie loves the cabin, but hates the drive in the car.  And with a possible thunderstorm brewing, she'd be a mess.  I kenneled her with Doc Kinter over at the animal hospital.

        From his perspective, Kevin was happy to be dog free.  Although Basil had stopped snarling at him, the animal's eyes followed him with suspicion and distrust.  For the life of him, Kevin couldn't understand what had changed in his make-up to make dogs in general dislike him so much.  He was sure it had something to do with Brian, but as he hadn't seen the little man in almost three weeks, he had hoped whatever it was it would've worn off.  Obviously, "it" still clung to him.

        Ted opened the passenger door, and ushered them both in.  Maureen slid across the seat, and the priest followed.  Cassie sat stiffly in the front, and when Kevin offered a greeting, she didn't answer, instead offering him a wave of her hand.  He just knew Mo would have to respond to the blatant dismissal.  It wasn't in her nature to ignore a slight of any kind.

        While Beckett arranged the luggage, boxes and bags in the back of the truck, Maureen leaned over the front seat, forcing Cassie to acknowledge her.  "Oh Cassie, thank you so much for including us in your weekend away.  It's going to be so much fun.  I've never been away for the holiday before.  Thanksgiving in our family has always been pretty much a circus.  Too many people, too many whiny kids.  Just the four of us, and adult conversation, will be a real treat."

         Cassie turned around, giving Maureen a look that would freeze water.  "You are most welcome, my dear.  It will be...a change of pace... for sure."

         Before she could face forward again, Kevin noticed the glazed look in her eyes, and the dilated pupils.  All week, he had wondered how she was going to handle the long drive with her agoraphobia issues, and now could tell the woman was most assuredly stoned.  Utterly and completely zoned out.  If they were lucky, it would make for a much more peaceful drive.

         For the first hour or so, the three of them engaged in general, convivial chit chat, while Cassie sat in stone cold silence. Occasionally, there was a slight snore from the front seat, but etiquette kept anyone from commenting on it. Then the winds and rain began in earnest, and the Sheriff's attention was forced on maneuvering down the slick, dark roads.  Kevin and Maureen, watched out the window, each lost in their own musings.   He wondered what is was his sister was thinking about, and why it seemed that the same white Volvo had been following them for the past 60 miles.  He thought about mentioning it to the Sheriff, but scolded himself for being silly, and kept his worries to himself.

         The rain was coming down in straight, heavy sheets when the Escalade finally pulled up in front of Beckett's cabin.  The word "cabin" however, was a bit of an understatement.  A better description might have been "country estate".  Though made of rough hewn logs, the home rose several stories
up, with a large wooden porch that ran across the entire length, and an attached garage made to shelter at least three vehicles.  Even through the torrential downpour, Kevin could see a lake set about 50 yards back, a large boathouse hanging on it's shore.  This was definitely not your average little summer hide away.  He turned to look at Mo, whose eyes were as big as saucers, and whose mouth was hanging slightly opened.  Even the normally cool and collected Cassie looked a bit stunned, and Kevin was pretty sure she had never been here before.

      The Sheriff seemed nonplussed about their reaction to his home.  "Here we are folks.  I suggest we leave all the luggage and supplies here, and make a run for it.  I'll light a nice fire, we can relax, have a drink, and wait for the rain to let up a little."

      The three of them, coats over their heads, made a dash to the covered porch, only to realize Cassie was still sitting in the car.  Beckett unlocked the front door, and suddenly concerned, ran back to the Escalade to check on his fiancee.  The sound of conversation was covered by the pounding of the rain, but Kevin could see Cassie adamantly shaking her head.  In an instance, the Sheriff had scooped her off the seat, and kicking the car door closed with his foot, headed toward them.

       "Welcome to my home away from home," he said, urging them forward and inside.

       The front door opened up into a great room with a soaring cathedral ceiling, and a massive stone fireplace.  He gently laid Cassie on the leather sofa in front of the fire place, and helped Maureen off with her sopping wrap.  Seeing that both the women were attended to, he disappeared around the corner, and returned shortly with a bottle of French burgundy, and an unopened bottle of Jameson.

        "I was hoping you'd do the honors, Father, while I fix us a nice, roaring fire."  He handed the bottles to Kevin, and pointed to a wooden sideboard against the wall near the staircase.  "You'll find glasses, ice, and mixers over there.  Make mine straight whiskey, no ice.  How about you ladies?  What would you like?"

         Some color had finally returned to Cassie's face, and she replied in a shaky voice, "A glass of burgundy might be good."

         Maureen still seemed overwhelmed by the sheer size of the room, but politely answered
that a glass of wine would also be fine with her.   While the Sheriff worked on building a suitable fire, Kevin fixed the drinks, and took stock of his surroundings.  The place was masculine in every respect, but gave the impression of good taste and money.  Lots and lots of money.  All of it spoke of sizable wealth. The large Victorian back in Dollyville, the brand new Cadillac parked outside, and now, this showplace vacation home sitting on acres and acres of pristine real estate.  All of it expensive, and decidedly out of the reach of someone on a county Sheriff's salary.   Kevin silently wondered what the hell he and his sister were doing out in the middle of nowhere, with two people that neither of them knew the first thing about.  A tiny spark of fear niggled at the back of his head, and he thought again about the phantom white Volvo.

           Satisfied with his work on the fire, Beckett settled himself on the sofa, but not before grabbing two fuzzy blankets from a cabinet near the fireplace.  He throw one across Mo's lap, careful to cover her still wet feet, and the other he tucked gently around the reclining Cassie.

           "Well, now, this is more like it.  Slainte!"  He took a long sip from the glass of Jameson, and put his stocking feet up on the wooden coffee table.   "I hope the rain slows down a bit, so we can get the stuff out of the car.  I don't know about you people, but I'm near starving. There's a full Thanksgiving dinner out there that just needs some warming before we can enjoy it."

           Kevin watched the rain pour down the windows in wet, twisting ribbons.  "It doesn't look so bad right now.  Should the two of us maybe try and unload the groceries?  I'm a bit famished myself."  As if to answer the pending question, there was a bright flash of lightening throwing shadows across the room, followed by a shaking clap of thunder.  "Then again, maybe not."

           The group sat around the fire, enjoying the crackling of the flames, and the quiet patter of rain.  Fr. Kevin closed his eyes, and let the heat of the whiskey warm his stomach, and loosen the knots in his shoulders.  He might have actually dozed off for a second or two, when the silence in the room was shattered by a piercing wail from somewhere outside.  He jumped awake, slopping some of drink across the front of his sweater.

          Bolting up from the sofa, Cassie squealed in her drug and wine haze.  "Oh my God!
Teddy, honey, what's making that awful noise?"

          Maureen had pulled the blanket tightly around her.  "It...it sounds like a wounded animal.  Poor thing."  Her naturally pale complexion had gone a full shade lighter, making the few scattered freckles across her nose stand out even more.  Outside, the wailing continued, and his sister shuddered.

        "I should probably go and check it out.  Make sure our belongings are secured out there."  Ted pushed himself off the sofa, and slipped his feet back into his wet shoes.

        Not really wanting to see what made that noise, but feeling he should offer, Kevin hesitated and then added, "I'll go with you Sheriff."

       Beckett grabbed his shoulder holster and the 40 caliber Glock pistol from the hook on the wall. "No, Father.  You stay here and keep an eye on the ladies."  Thinking for a second, he reached for the shotgun hanging over the fireplace, and handed it to the priest.  "Ever use one of these, Padre?"

       He hated to admit it, but he had never so much as touched a paint ball gun.  "Not really, Sheriff.  But hopefully, I won't need to use it."

       The Sheriff shrugged, and pointed to the safety.  "I advise you, then, to leave this safety on until I say differently. Wouldn't want you shooting off your own foot."  Speaking to the women in a voice that left no room for discussion, he directed, "Ladies, wait here with Fr. Kevin.   Everything is going to be fine.  I'm just going to go out for a minute and see what's up.  Then we'll work on dinner."

      With the Glock in hand, he opened the front door.  The wind and rain blew in with gale force, causing the flames to shift in the fireplace, while the high pitched keening sound rang in their ears.
Maureen jumped from her chair, and hid behind her brother, who stood jiggling his left leg, rifle in hand. There was the sound of stumbling, and a solid thump, and through the howling rain, they heard the Sheriff angrily exclaim, "Damn!  That really hurt!  And what the hell is this?"

Copyright 2012 Victoria Rocus

Fr. Kevin "on guard" inside the cabin

   

 




         

       

       

     
       


     

Thanksgiving Misgivings

   

                             

     As he shoved an extra sweatshirt into his backpack, Fr. Kevin wondered why he even bothered.  Maureen never listened to him.  Not ever.  He thought back to the time when they were kids, shaking his head at her wide array of half-baked ideas.  Plans destined from the start to turn out badly, and usually rooted in some deep-seated need to get even.  Despite pleading suggestions from him to reconsider, she would always refuse, calling into question his brotherly loyalty, and insisting on his faithful participation in her doomed scheme.

       He recalled the time she was in the sixth grade, and being harassed by the class bully, who, it was revealed years later, had suffered from an aching middle school crush on her.  For several weeks that winter, Sean Fitzmorrow...funny how he still remembered the kid's name...would lie in wait along her usual route home from school, and when she passed by, would pummel her with freshly packed ice balls, all the while yelling out "Momo O'Kenney is flat as a penny."

      Determined to fix her would be suitor once and for all, she designed a plan to give the misguided Sean a taste of his own medicine.  A battle proposition, that would, of course, require the help of her favorite brother.  Mo's stratagem had her placed in the role of "bait', forcing the clue-less tormentor to chase after her past a collection of low lying bushes, where Kevin would jump out and lob a torrent of well-placed snowballs.  It sounded simple enough, but he'd felt silly as a 15 year old involved in her grade school kid play.  He had tried to convince her to just walk home a different way, ignore her bully, and hope he'd tire of her and turn his attention elsewhere.  For days, she had cried, pleaded, cajoled and whined, until sick of hearing her, he gave in and promised to help.

      On the day in question, he showed up at the assigned location to find that she had already prepared a stack of ice balls, and in addition, had covered the 4 feet of sidewalk in front of the spot with a slicked down patch of ice.  Ordering him to stay in hiding, she ran of to find her prey, and it wasn't long before she came sailing by him, screaming like a banshee, with the love sick Fitzmorrow in hot pursuit.

      "Now, Kevin!  Now!" She hollered, and pointed wildly at the chubby boy behind her.

      A snowball in each hand, Kevin threw them one after another toward the racing kid.  Surprised to see someone appear out of nowhere, Sean lost his balance and began to flail and slide, just at the very moment one of the solid orbs made contact with his upper lip.  He went down hard, falling on his right elbow, with blood streaming from a gaping split below his nose.

      Horrified, Kevin and Mo had run back to the house, the kid's high pitched squealing ringing in their ears.  In the hours that followed, the punitive Mr. Fitzpatrick Sr. had showed up on their door step, cussing a blue streak, and threatening to have Kevin arrested as a juvenile delinquent.  It seemed that the snowballs Mo had prepared in advance had been enhanced with several large flat rocks, one of which had not only split the kid's lip, but also chipped his front tooth, requiring a trip to the local dentist. In addition, the lad had ripped his best winter jacket, and sprained his right wrist.  It had cost his father $100 in cash, and a bottle of his best Irish whiskey, to convince the angry man to not call the local cops.

     Immediately following that ordeal, Mo had been sent to bed without supper, and Kevin's old man had whopped his ass but good.  In addition, their father made him work off the money, and the cost of the whiskey, with every dirty, back-breaking chore he had come up with for the next six months.  When he complained that it had been all Maureen's idea, he's received a crack to the back of the head, and an admonishment that he was older, and should have known better.

     It wasn't the last time Mo had sucked him into breaking the rules.  He couldn't count the times he had helped her crawl through his bedroom window, the number of cigarettes he had hid in the back of his closet, or the piles of bad report cards he had forged for her.  When it came to his baby sister, he could never say no,  Even now, though he had reached the maturity of his 30th birthday, and considered himself a faithful servant of the Church, very little had changed in regards to his feelings about Maureen.  He wished his father was still with them.  He could definitely use a crack to the head right now for what he was about to do.

     This Thanksgiving trip to Beckett's cabin was, without a doubt, an absolute nightmare in the making. He had known Cassie McKreedy for six months, and there was no way she would have willingly invited he, or most notably, his sister, along on this romantic trip to the woods.  He couldn't begin to imagine why the Sheriff had insisted they'd come along, and when he thought about it, the reasons made him nervous.  He should have put his foot down, and forbidden her to go.  Calmly explained to the Sheriff that spending time with his sister was irresponsible.  Pull rank...use his position as Pastor...tie her up...do whatever was necessary to keep them from making this huge mistake.

     Instead, he was up here, packing for a trip he didn't want to go on, while Mo was downstairs, happily humming as she put the finishing touches on an iced angel food cake. He grimaced as he hefted the straps of the heavy pack over his shoulder. It would take more than just angel food cake to make this weekend work.  It would take the angels themselves.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Rocus


                         ________________________________________________

    To my readers in the United States...from Fr. Kevin, Maureen, and all the rest...your devoted author included... we wish each and everyone one of you a very happy and peaceful Thanksgiving holiday.  For our friends scattered across the globe...please join us in counting our many blessings... and remembering those who might need our helping hands.

                                          Let the holiday magic begin!

   

   

 

Red Room...Revisited

I've had some requests for additional, natural light photos of the Red Room, especially the right-hand corner.  I aim to please...so here they are.

Also...watch for a mid-week special Thanksgiving post on Thursday!

Copyright 2012 Victoria Rocus

Because you asked...

 Hello Everyone!

   I've been getting several emails from new readers with questions about the connection between Cassie and Fr. Kevin.  Why does she think he has her money?  The details of that story line go back to June, July and August.  You can always go back and check out those chapters.  But for the sake of time, and to catch everyone up, or refresh some memories, here is a synopsis of that storyline.


  Cassie and Elizabeth McKreedy are first cousins who have a strong resemblance to each other, and who grew up as close as sisters.  They are both seasoned con artists/hackers/embezzlers with minor criminal records.  After a con in New Orleans that netted them a great deal of money, but had terrible repercussions, (never quite discussed as of yet) the two women decided to hide out in the small southwestern Massachusetts town of Dollyville.  They lived separately, with Elizabeth spending almost 14 months living in disguise, and withdrawing small amounts of the con money from the local bank where Cassie had digitally transferred it, until she had amassed near the total of a half million dollars.    The plan was the two should split the money and start fresh on the west coast after the trouble in New Orleans died down.

   But while Elizabeth was living in a small rented room keeping a low profile, Cassie had rented a huge colonial home, was continuing to work some hacking and embezzling jobs, and was living the high life.  Despite her developing agoraphobia, Cassie managed several relationships with men in town, including her current beau, Sheriff Ted Beckett, while forcing Liz to live in total solitude.(or so she thought)

   Liz tires of being put off by Cassie, and shows up at her home, dragging the case of cash.  Cassie promises to arrange their exit, but instead belittles Liz and forces her to live in the attic.  The two finally have a falling out, and Liz steals the suitcase with the half million dollars and disappears in the middle of the night.  Cassie desperately looks for Liz, and the money, while balancing her own growing problems with her current con jobs, her agoraphobia, and her relationship with the town Sheriff.

    In the meantime, Lizzie hides out in a seedy motel outside of town and plots Cassie's demise.  She tries twice to kill her, first by blowing up her house, (great chapter...proud of that one) and then by poisoning.  Failing at both, she decides to leave town on her own, but not before sticking it to Cassie one more time.  She goes to see Fr. Kevin (who they both know) for Reconciliation, and during the Sacrament, up and leaves the suitcase of money on a chair in the confessional.

     Fr. Kevin, being an honest and devoted soul, is not sure what to do with the money.  Because it was part of a confession, he can't say anything about it to anyone.  Not knowing what else to do, he sticks it in the church safe until he can figure how to deal with it.  It remains there to date.

      Before she leaves town, Liz McKreedy sends her cousin a final email explaining that she has given Fr. Kevin the money, minus $50,000 she herself took for expenses.  She also sends Cassie an upsetting  clipping cut from a New Orleans newspaper.  When she leaves, she reveals (to the readers only) that she is secretly several months pregnant, but the father is not made known.

      Cassie has hired private detectives to hunt down her cousin, but so far, has been unsuccessful.  She is desperately seeking information from Fr. Kevin about the whereabouts of her missing money, which she is planning on taking back...one way or another.

                             

 Well...that should catch you up.  Hope this helps you determine what's currently going on, and why Cassie is trying to feed Fr. Kevin truth serum.  She is a very naughty girl.  LOL

Until next week...

Madame Mystery

Truth or Dare?

Cassie watches from the sun room window

   

      From the second floor sun room, Cassie watched in disgust as the gardener hosed away the vomit from the bushes along the side of the house.  A total waste.  All the planning and fussing... the research...the risks.  And for what?  Absolutely nothing.  She was no closer to finding her money than she was four weeks ago.  In frustration, she slammed the lid of the laptop down, and tossed it on the table next to the chair.

      She should have gone with the time tested sodium pentathol, and avoided this whole mess. It had a respectable reputation as a working truth serum, and little to no side effects. But the use of needles always made her nervous. And in her defense, the web site made the Russian SP-117 sound like it was perfect for her needs.  It was colorless and odorless...just a sprinkle over his food and into his drink, and he should have been happily spilling his secrets.  Instead, it was his guts that were spilled... all over the manicured hedges.  She had known that there was a slight chance the drug caused cramping and vomiting, but only in about twenty percent of the population.  That seemed like pretty good odds to her, and if in fact, the priest was one of the unlucky few, she had planned to have the information firmly in hand before he felt the first rumble in his stomach.

       But then it had all gone wrong.  He'd excused himself to use the bathroom, and had then disappeared for over forty minutes.  She had no clue where he had been, only that he returned to the parlor a few moments before rushing outside to be sick.  After that, he was never alone, and before she could say any different, Teddy was off, driving both he and the bitch sister home, and she was left with a house full of unwanted guests, and no hint to the whereabouts of her half million.

         Even thinking about it now enraged her.   While the damn priest was busy screwing up her plans, that sly little slut of a sister was putting the moves on her fiancee.  How stupid did they think she was?  She'd played the same little games herself.  Knew interest when she saw it.  And even if she wasn't sure exactly how she really felt about Ted Beckett, there was no way anyone was taking anything that belonged to her.  Besides, if that little girl knew the real man behind the lawman's uniform, she'd run off and hide.  The Sheriff had his hobbies, and that O'Kenney woman didn't look the type to play along.

        Cassie reached for the laptop, and flipped it open.  There had to be some reason she'd bolted from
Boston.  How, and why, did she end up here in this hick town, tagging after her doofus of a brother?  If she could just find her Achilles heel somewhere on the net, she might be able to kill two birds with one single stone.  She still had a half vial of SP-117, and next time, she'd work the timing a bit closer.  But with his sister attached to his hip, getting the padre alone would be a lot more difficult.  Without a doubt, Maureen O'Kenney needed to hit the road.

         She had just begun her Google search, when the housekeeper, sullen as always, knocked on the sunroom door. "Miss McKreedy, Dr. Patterson is waiting downstairs.  Will you be meeting with her today?"

         Cassie could see the tiny smirk gather at the corners of the woman's thin lips.  It was no secret she had little use for the Sheriff's new house guest.  The feeling was mutual.  "Thank you Mrs. Burke.  Tell her I'll be with her shortly"

         Mrs. Burke just nodded, shaking her head as she shut the door behind her.

          Damn.  She had forgotten all about this afternoon's appointment.  The computer work would have to wait until later.  She and the doctor had made real progress in the last four weeks, and she was anxious to continue.  The combination of drug therapy and self soothing mechanisms had been working so well, she had been able to take short trips out to the yard, and even a car ride around town, without hyperventilating.  She and Ted had even discussed plans to celebrate Thanksgiving at his cabin if she thought she was up to the challenge.  Dr. Patterson had tried to coax her into allowing herself to be put under deep hypnosis, believing it would get to the center of her anxiety.  There was no frickn' way that was going to happen.   She was fully aware of the wheres and whys of her personal hell.  And New Orleans, and everything surrounding it, was better left buried in her brain.

                             _______________________________________________

           He stayed in the confessional longer then planned, deep in thought over everything that had transpired between he and Maureen.  He prayed for divine inspiration regarding the handling of the whole mess, but none seemed forthcoming.  Reluctantly, he knew he'd have to face her sooner or later, and so he changed into his street clothes, and trudged back to the rectory.

           She was busy in the kitchen, and when she heard the door open, called out to him.  "Is that you, Kev?  Don't get comfortable.  Dinner's almost ready.  I made a nice pot roast."

           At the mention of food, Fr. Kevin's stomach did a flip-flop.  He still felt lousy from the night before, but pot roast was his favorite, and she had obviously meant it as a peace offering of sorts.  He'd have to force down a bite or two, and move the rest around on his plate.

            They were saved from awkward dinner conversation by a knock on the back door, and some how, neither he or Maureen seemed surprised to see it was the Sheriff.

            "'Evening, Father.  Maureen.  I just stopped by to see how you both were doing.  Especially you Father.  Feeling any better?"

             Kevin flushed, still embarrassed over being caught puking in the man's bushes.  "I'm doing much better.  Thanks for asking.  And for driving us home. I'm just sorry I...uh...uh..."

            "Don't even mention it, Father.  You can't help being ill.  I wish the evening had ended better for you.  In fact, that's why I'm here.  Let me make it up to you both."

            "Oh, Ted.  That's not necessary.  It's not your fault Kevin has a sensitive stomach."

             Kevin frowned.  Nothing like being thrown under the bus by your own sister.  He certainly did not have a sensitive stomach.   And the way the cramping came on so quickly, led him to surmise it was definitely something he ate at the party. Something spoiled.   But there was no way he was going to express those feelings in front of either of them, so he just nodded in agreement.

              "Still, I want another chance at being a better host."  He paused, and looked at Maureen. "I was wondering...well...if you were planning on going home to Boston for the Thanksgiving holiday?"

              Maureen suddenly looked panicked, and Kevin felt the need to come to her aid.  "No, Sheriff. We decided on a quiet dinner here at the rectory.  I have to be here for morning Mass, and with the traveling involved...well...it was just easier for us to stay in Dollyville this year."

              The Sheriff looked pleased, and jumped in with an offer.  "Well then... that works out great!"  Seeing their confused faces, he continued.  "I want to invite you both to join Cassie and me at my lake cabin for the holiday.  We can make a long week-end of it.  It's a great little place.  Quiet and peaceful.  A terrific place to relax.  I know you're going to just love it!"

           Maureen clapped her hands together in glee.  "A Thanksgiving celebration in the woods?  It sounds charming, doesn't it Kevin?  Just like that song...over the river and through the woods..."

          From Fr. Kevin's perspective, it didn't sound charming at all.  More like fatal.  The thought of the four of them together, trapped in the woods, made him sweat.  He needed to do something quick.  Before he was led down the path of no return.  "That's a very generous offer, Sheriff.  And I'm sure it would be a Thanksgiving...to remember.  Unfortunately, I have commitments here at the church.  Mass and all that, you know."  He was afraid to even look at Maureen.  He didn't want to see the expression on her face.  It was hard enough being the Scrooge who said no to the little girl's pony request.  But somebody needed to have some common sense in the matter.

         "That wouldn't be a problem, Father.  We could leave after your morning services, and all drive down together. It's a short enough trip.  Only about an hour and a half. I could even have Mrs. Burke prepare Thanksgiving dinner the day before.  Then, all we'd have to do is warm it up once we got there."

         "Mrs.  Burke?"

         "Yes, Mrs. Burke...my housekeeper.  She's an excellent cook, you know."

         Kevin thought about the way his stomach felt the night before, and shuddered.  He wasn't sure he was up for anymore of Mrs. Burke's cooking.  "I appreciate your kindness, Sheriff.  But, really I don't think..."

         Maureen ended the sentence before he could get all the words out.  "We'll work it out on our end, Ted.  I'm sure we can figure something out.  Kevin is always such a worry wart.  Now, you must tell me what I can bring."

         He watched his sister walk the Sheriff to his patrol car, her busy hands animating the light conversation between them.  Why was he the only one that could see this trip was a nightmare in the making?  He felt shoved into the role of the Grinch who was out to spoil everyone's holiday.  A role he did not relish, and hadn't signed on for.  With a sigh, he went to work on the plate of pot roast, taking  his frustration out on the carrots and gravy.

Copyright 2012 Victoria Rocus

Maureen bribes Kevin with home made pot roast