All Through The Night

17

“Are you all through with me, Cordelia?” Willy asked wearily. “Both toilets are working, but I would suggest you tell the kids not to throw wads of tissue in them. Think of those pipes as belonging in an old-age home. Which is where I feel I should be right now,” he added with a sigh.

“Nonsense,” Sister Cordelia said briskly. “You’re still a young man, William. Just wait till you get to be my age.” There was a ten-year difference between the siblings.

“Cordelia, the day you’re a hundred, you’ll still have more energy than a Rockette,” Willy told her.

“Speaking of which, I’m supposed to watch a run-through of the pageant. Come on, let’s get upstairs. The kids will be going home soon,” Sister Cordelia said, grasping Willy by the arm and propelling him toward the staircase. It was quarter of six, and the rehearsal for the pageant was in full swing. They had reached the final scene, in the stable. A solemn-faced Stellina was kneeling across from a merry-eyed Jerry Nunez, over the folded blanket that was substituting for the crib of the Christ child.

The wise men, led by José Diaz, were approaching from the left and the shepherds were gathering from the right.

“Slow down, all of you,” Sister Cordelia ordered. She raised, then lowered, her hands. “One step at a time, and don’t push. Jerry, keep your eyes down. You’re supposed to be looking at the baby, not at the shepherds.”

“Willy, play the closing song,” she said.

“I left the sheet music home, Cordelia. I didn’t think I’d be here this long.”

“Well, sing it then. God blessed you with a voice. Start to sing very low, the way you’ll do when you’re at the piano, then bring up the volume. The children will join in, starting with Stellina and Jerry, then the wise men and the shepherds, then finally the chorus.”

Willy knew better than to argue with his sister. “Sleep, my child,” he began.

“Jose, I’ll hang you out to dry if you trip Denny,” Sister Cordelia said, interrupting. “Go ahead, start again, Willy.”

At “Guardian angels God will send thee,” Stellina and Jerry joined in. Their young voices, sweet and true, combined with Willy’s tenor as they sang the next two lines together.

What a beautiful voice that kid has, Willy thought as he listened to Stellina. I swear she has perfect pitch. He studied her solemn brown eyes. A seven-year-old shouldn’t look so sad, he thought as the wise men and shepherds and then all the students joined in: “Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and vale in slumber steeping, I my loving vigil keeping, All through the night.”

At the end, Willy, Sister Cordelia, Sister Maeve Marie and the assorted volunteer aides applauded vigorously. “Just be this good two weeks from now at the actual performance, and we’ll all be happy,” Cordelia told the children. “Now put on your coats and hats and don’t get them mixed up. Your folks will be here to collect you, and they shouldn’t be kept waiting. They’ve been working all day and they’re tired.” She turned to Willy. “And I might add, so am I,” she said.

“It makes me feel good to know that even you have some limits,” Willy said. “Okay, since I’ve been here this long, I may as well hang around and help you clean up.”

Twenty minutes later, he and the two nuns were at the door, waiting for Mrs. Nunez to pick up Stellina and Jerry. When she arrived breathless and contrite, they waved away her apologies.

Sister Cordelia pulled her aside. “How is Stellina’s great-aunt doing?” she asked.

“Not good,” Mrs. Nunez whispered, shaking her head. “She’ll be in the hospital before the week is out, is my guess.” She crossed herself quickly. “Well, at least the father’s back. That’s something, I suppose.” She sniffed, as if to make it clear just how little faith she put in Stellina’s father.

When Mrs. Nunez and the children had left, Sister Cordelia said, “That poor child. Her mother deserted her when she was an infant. She’s going to lose the great-aunt who raised her, and the father doesn’t seem to be around much. From what I gather, he isn’t worth a hill of beans.”

“He’s worth less than that,” Sister Maeve Marie interjected. Friday evening, he tried to pick Stellina up after she was already gone. He looked a little unsavory to me, so I made some inquiries about him with the boys at the precinct.”

“Keeping your hand in at your old job, Detective?” Willy asked.

“It doesn’t hurt. From the rumors, it sounds like Mr. Centino could be headed for big trouble.”

“Which means that lovely child could end up in a foster home, or a series of foster homes,” Sister Cordelia said sadly. “And in a few weeks we won’t be able even to watch out for her anymore.” She sighed. “All right, enough. Go home, Willy. You’ve been great, and you can pick up your paycheck at the end of the week.”

“Very funny.” He smiled, acknowledging her customary joke. As they left the building, they stood together for a moment on the sidewalk. “Have a glass of wine and relax, you two,” Willy said. “I would take you out to dinner, but I haven’t spoken to Alvirah since she called at noon to say she was going condo hunting, so I don’t know when we’ll be eating.”

Cordelia looked astonished. “You’re kidding. I thought you loved the place you’re in. Why, Alvirah always said she’d have to be carried out of that apartment. Don’t tell me she’s serious about buying a different one.”

“Of course not,” Willy assured her. “She’s just trying to get a line on that real estate couple who witnessed Bessie signing the will. She’s hoping that if she goes out enough with one or the other of them, she might find out there was something fishy about that witnessing. Anyhow, I’m on my way, but you girls have done a great job. That pageant is going to be terrific. You ought to invite the mayor-let him see what you’re doing.”

The compliment did nothing to put cheer in their worried faces, and when he got home, an equally troubled Alvirah was waiting for him. “I’ve walked my feet off looking at condos with Eileen Gordon,” she said.

“Learn anything?” Willy asked.

“Yes, she’s a lovely person, and I’d stake my life she wouldn’t take a sip of water that didn’t belong to her, even if she was choking.”

“So that means the Bakers probably pulled the old one-two on her and her husband,” Willy said practically.

“Yes, but I was so hoping they’d turn out to be phonies too. It’s easier to trap crooks than to convince innocent bystanders that they’ve been duped,” Alvirah said with a sigh.