I'll Walk Alone - Mary Higgins Clark [17]
“That’s nice of you. I did come here to be completely isolated,” Evans snapped, as with obvious reluctance she took the plate of muffins from Penny’s extended hand.
Refusing to be affronted, Penny continued. “Don’t worry about the plate. It’s a throwaway. I wrote my phone number for you on a Post-it I stuck on the bottom, just in case you should ever have an emergency.”
“That’s very kind, but unnecessary,” Evans replied stiffly. She had been forced to open the door wider to accept the plate, and looking past her Penny spotted a toy truck on the floor.
“Oh, I didn’t know you had a child,” Penny exclaimed. “I’m a good babysitter if you ever need one. I have references from half the people in town.”
“I don’t have a child!” Evans snapped. Then following Penny’s glance she turned and saw the toy truck. “My sister helped me get settled. That belongs to her son.”
“Well, if she ever visits and you two want to go off for lunch, you have my phone number,” Penny said amiably. The last three words were addressed to the door that had closed in her face. For the moment she stood uncertainly, then wishing she had the courage to ring the bell again and grab her blueberry muffins out of the woman’s hand, she turned and hurried back to her car.
“I hope Gloria Evans isn’t writing a book on manners,” she sniffed as, thoroughly humiliated, she backed up her car, turned it around, and sped away.
11
Alvirah and Willy heard the breaking news that Zan Moreland might have been responsible for the disappearance of her son on the eleven o’clock news that night. They had been preparing for bed after their dinner with Fr. Aiden. Shocked, Alvirah called Zan and left a message when she did not answer her cell phone.
In the morning, Alvirah met Fr. Aiden in the Friary adjoining St. Francis of Assisi Church. Together with Neil the handyman, they went to the office to view the playback of the tapes from the security cameras starting at 5:30 P.M. on Monday evening. For the first twenty minutes there was nothing unusual in the frames of people entering or leaving the chapel. As she waited, Alvirah, her voice filled with concern, told Fr. Aiden that the media was reporting that Zan might be involved in Matthew’s disappearance.
“Aiden,” Alvirah said, insistently, “they might just as well be saying that Willy and I stole Matthew from his stroller. It’s so absolutely ridiculous that you wonder how anyone would swallow it. If they have some kind of pictures, I can only say that that guy in England doctored them to make money from that magazine.” Then she leaned forward and gasped. “Neil, can you stop the video? That’s Zan. She must have paid a visit here on Monday evening. I know how upset she had to have been because Matthew was turning five yesterday.”
Fr. Aiden O’Brien had also recognized the expensively dressed young woman in the dark glasses with the long hair. It was the woman who had come into the Reconciliation Room and told him that she was involved in an ongoing crime and that there was a murder about to be committed. He tried to keep his voice calm as he asked Alvirah, “Are you sure that is your friend Zan?”
“Aiden, of course I’m sure. Look at that suit. Zan bought it last year after it was reduced. She’s so careful about money. She went through every cent her mother and father had left her, spending it on private detectives to help find Matthew. Now she’s saving so that she can get someone new to start hunting for him.”
Before Aiden could reply, Alvirah urged Neil to start running the tape again. “I’m dying to see if I can pick up the guy who was eyeing you, Aiden.”
Aiden phrased his words carefully. “Do you think he might have been accompanying or following your friend,