The Missing Madonna Read Online Free PDF Page A

astonishment, Eileen could always dig up an old saying from “back home.” She often suspected her friend made them up to fit the occasion. “ ‘Don’t trouble trouble till trouble troubles you.” And from what I’ve noticed, trouble troubles you soon enough!”
    It is not my fault, Mary Helen wanted to say but refrained. It sounded too much like s whine. If there was anything Mary Helen detested almost as much as a bore, it was a whiner.
    “Humph” was all she said. Turning on her heel, she squeezed her way across the crowded room. Where in the world had Erma and Lucy disappeared to? She checked her wristwatch. Four-thirty. The women had agreed to meet at six for a final fling. Their four traveling companions had planned to treat them to dinner at a place they’d found in the Three A’s tour book, before a quick walk over to West Forty-fourth Street and the eight o’clock performance at the Majestic Theatre.
    Maybe Erma and Lucy had gone to their hotel room to start dressing for the evening, or perhaps to sneak in a short nap. Suddenly Mary Helen realized how tired she was. A short nap sounded heavenly. Maybe she’d sneak one in herself. It had been a long day. But first she’d stop by Erma’s room and make sure everything was all right. Grudgingly she admitted to herself that she’d do well to take Eileen’s advice and leave well enough alone. Absentmindedly, she pushed the elevator button.
    *  *  *
    The fourth floor of the hotel was plushly carpeted, dimly lit, and deadly quiet. The line of thick woodendoors, like so many rabbit hutches, were shut tight against any intrusions.
    Mary Helen stopped in front of Erma’s door and leaned forward to listen. She had just poised her hand to knock when she heard the pathetic sound of muffled crying.
    “Shush, Erma. Stop it.” Even through the thick door she heard Lucy’s high-pitched voice pleading. “You’re working yourself up to an absolute frenzy. And about what? Money!” She spat out the last word almost as if it were an obscenity.
    Erma muttered something unintelligible and cried all the harder.
    “Damn it, Erma! You’d drive a preacher to cuss,” Lucy shouted, but her tone was not angry, just helpless. “Better yet, to drink. And I think I will pour us both a short one.” There was a long pause, but Mary Helen thought she heard Erma sobbing quietly.
    “Please don’t worry,” Lucy said as if she were comforting a small child. “Here, drink this. Worry is not going to solve a thing,” she went on. “It’ll only ruin the little time off you have. I tell you, Erma, everything will work out. We’ll make sure it does. And in the meantime, I’d be happy to help out. You know that.”
    Mary Helen heard what she thought was Erma blowing her nose and hiccuping softly.
    Suddenly she shifted, embarrassed. She was intruding on a private conversation. Well, she’d never let on for one moment that she’d heard a thing. Straightening up, she decided against even knocking. Whatever was bothering Erma, she and Lucy would work it out. We’ll make sure it does, Lucy had said. Mary Helen had heard that.
    Besides, it was really none of her affair. To be very truthful, she had probably heard too much already. Eileen was absolutely correct. Why go looking for trouble? It was bad enough that she seemed to stumble intoit even when she wasn’t looking. She would go straight to her hotel room, put her feet up for a half hour or so, see if she could nap. And if she couldn’t, she’d just relax and read a chapter or two of her murder mystery.
    Squaring her shoulders, Mary Helen turned away from the door, adjusted her bifocals, and began to walk down the thickly carpeted hall. She was very glad she had, too, for just then the elevator door opened and out stepped Eileen. She would not, for one tiny moment, want Eileen to think that she would stoop to eavesdropping.

May 7
Monday of the Fourth Week of Easter
    On Friday evening Sisters Mary Helen and Eileen had