Sammy Keyes and the Sisters of Mercy Read Online Free PDF Page A

the Pup Parlor for a dip at ten.”
    Marissa and I look at each other and then at Dot. “A
dip
?”
    Dot blushes a little and whispers, “He’s got fleas.”
    I say, “Well, why don’t we all just meet over at the Pup Parlor at ten, then walk over to the park and practice until Nibbles is ready?”
    Everyone thinks that’s a good idea, so I say, “I’ve got to get over to St. Mary’s. See you tomorrow!”
    Now, I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about it all day, telling myself that for once I just need to keep
out
of it, but as I’m heading over to the soup kitchen, I know that before I spend the rest of the afternoon dodging Sister Josephine’s cane, there’s somewhere else I’ve
got
to go.

Gregory saw me first. He wiggled out from under the desk and laid what was left of his carrot at my feet. I laughed and scratched his chest and whispered, “No thanks, boy.”
    Father Mayhew was standing over by the window with his hands behind his back, looking outside. At first I thought he might be having a word with God so I tried to be quiet, whispering, “No, boy, no!” when Gregory nosed his carrot stump in my direction.
    But after a little while I could tell that he was just thinking. And since I was getting tired of being chased around by a carrot, I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me … Father Mayhew?”
    He jumped a bit and then wiped his eyes, and when he realized it was me, he put on a stern face and walked to his desk. “What is it, Samantha”
    Well, all of a sudden I can’t find any words. I mean, here he is, sitting behind his big desk, pretending to be in complete control, but his complicated eyes are red around the edges and it’s easy to see that he’s been crying. I whisper, “I was hoping you’d found your cross …?”
    “Noooo.” He blows his nose and sighs. “It wasn’t misplaced, lass, it was taken.”
    He was still looking pretty stony, but he
had
said lass, soI inched into his office and sat in a chair against the wall. “Father Mayhew, I swear, I didn’t take your cross. I don’t know who did, but it wasn’t me. Was it in this office the day I painted? Is that why you think I took it?”
    He studies me a minute. “It was in the sacristy.” Then he points to a door at the back of his office and says, “Right through there. I left it open because I thought it would help with the ventilation while you were painting.”
    Now the whole time Father Mayhew’s talking, his dog’s inching over to me with that carrot stump in his mouth. Finally, he just makes a break for it. He comes over, dumps his slobbery carrot in my lap and then sits next to me, grinning from ear to ear. He’s acting like he wants me to play carrot catch, but I don’t feel like tossing a slimy orange stump around. I put it on the floor next to me and ask Father Mayhew, “Is that the only door to the sacristy?”
    He says, “No, there’s a door in the hallway,” but what he’s concentrating on is Gregory picking the carrot up and putting it back in my lap.
    I say, “Was it locked? I mean, did someone have to come through your office to take the cross?” and really, I’m trying hard to ignore how Gregory’s nudging that carrot around my lap, but it’s getting a little out of hand.
    He says, “What? Oh. No. It wasn’t locked, but it
was
closed.”
    “But anybody could’ve walked in if they’d wanted to?”
    By now little Gregory has decided my lap is also a good place for his front paws, and before I can stop him, he’s on my lap and in my face, panting away, huffing carrot breath all over me.
    Father Mayhew’s complicated eyes are looking very confused, let me tell you. He says, “Off, lad! Off!” so Gregory jumps down, but he doesn’t go far. He rests his nose on my knee and keeps one eye on me, and one on that carrot, which is still in my lap.
    Father Mayhew mumbles, “I suppose so. But that’s the only thing missing. Why would someone walk in, steal my cross, and leave? There