Snow Globes and Hand Grenades by Kevin Killeen Page B

and it will mean a lot less trouble for you later.”
    Mimi shielded the light from her eyes to try to get a better look at Detective Kurtz behind the desk. “Oh, Detective, I swear, I don’t know anything about that. I was at school all day yesterday. I only found out about it at dinner.”
    â€œWhere did you say you’re going to high school?” Father Ernst asked.
    â€œHoly Footsteps.”
    â€œThat’s a fine school, and I’m sure you’ll do well there. I have no further questions. Detective?”
    Detective Kurtz moved the lamp light out of Mimi’s eyes and trained it back on the desktop. He closed her file. “No further questions … for now.”

CHAPTER 20
    SISTER MATHILDA SAT alone her room with the door closed, unable to see anything with the black patches on her eyes. The storm raging outside was pleasant, reassuring somehow. She thought about the Cutlass Supreme, her escape module to avoid retirement as soon as she could get her sight back and drive away. After she won it in the church raffle in 1966, it sat for a long time unused because even then her cataracts made the world a glaring blur. Once, though, on a summer night, Father Maligan called the nunnery from the priest house asking for Sister Mathilda. She came to the black wall phone in the kitchen by the icebox and said hello. In his nasally, mumbled brogue, he said something about a “chicken dinner” and wanting to borrow her car, because his wouldn’t start. “That sounds wonderful,” she said.
    When he came by to get the keys, Father Maligan was confused that she followed him to the car and got in the passenger seat. “Let’s go,” she said. He started the engine and drove at speeds of 90 miles an hour with his window down and his pipe blazing to Collinsville, Illinois—across the Mississippi River—to Fairmount Park Race Track. There, they took their seats and he bought her an orange slushy and a large cup of Budweiser for himself. Unable to see much, Sister Mathilda thought at first he had surprised her and taken her to Busch Stadium for a Cardinals game. How thoughtful of him. What good fun. She kept asking who was pitching. Finally, she heard the pounding of horse hooves around the dirt track, and was aghast at this impropriety.Father Maligan’s horse, Chicken Dinner, came in fourth that night. It was the last time Sister Mathilda ever let anyone drive her Cutlass.
    Thunder and lightening crackled outside her window. She noticed the lightening slightly through her black bandages and was tempted to take them off, even though removing them was forbidden. The doctor had warned her. “Whatever you do, don’t take those bandages off early, or you might cause permanent damage.” Her eyes needed total darkness for some time for her to see properly when they were healed.
    â€œYou can’t trust doctors with your future,” she thought.
    She got up and made her way to the door and felt for the handle. She turned the bolt so no one would come in. Then counting the steps back to her dresser, as she had for years, she reached out her hand and touched the dresser top. She pulled out the second drawer and reached under it. Her fingertips found the Cutlass Supreme car title she had Scotch taped beneath the drawer. It was still there. She shut the drawer and felt her bandages.
    â€œAs soon as the doctor takes off your bandages,” Sister Helen had told her, “we’ll take you to the train station.” But she knew what the principal meant. The train tracks led to the nursing home and the nursing home led to the cemetery.
    Sister Mathilda closed her eyes tight and ripped off her bandages taking a few thick white eyebrow hairs with them. The room air was cool on her naked eyelids. She cupped her hands over her face and slowly opened her eyes. Light from the window and bedside lamp seeped through her fingers. Thunder rumbled. In sweet