“I heard that,” Bob cried. He poked his head around the corner again. “Come, you two! Join us. No time for smoochy-smoochy this morning.” He fixed his gaze on Mike. “You cannot let the very last apple fritter go to waste.”
Mike cringed. “I feel like a teenager, meeting my girlfriend’s father for the first time. Is he going to give me ‘the talk’, too?”
Alice shook her head and her eyes fluttered closed. “You have no idea.”
* * * * *
An hour later, the donuts were finished and the laughter had subsided.
While Susie and Christine went outside to play, Bob helped Geri wash the dishes and put on another pot of coffee.
Alice watched him washing while Geri dried and put away. He had tucked a tea towel into his waistband across the front of his pants. He looked like someone’s well-dressed grandfather. In reality, he was.
He would rarely get a chance like this. He was always ‘His Holiness’ or ‘Pope Benedict the Seventeenth’. He was never just plain ‘Bob’. That was why he enjoyed himself so much, sitting around a kitchen table being just one of the gang instead of the focus of everyone’s attention.
Still, he was the Pope, and he was here, instead of wherever he was supposed to be. His absence would be noticed sooner rather than later. And it was unlikely he had come to enjoy the donuts.
After musing on this for a moment, Alice said, “Roberto? Why are you here?”
Still at the sink, he glanced over his shoulder. “I heard this was the place for donuts and good company.”
Mike, Geri and Rafferty all went still when Alice said, “Roberto, they will notice your absence soon.”
Bob sobered. His shoulders slumped. “Next week, we will visit Philadelphia. Be here three days. I will bring Buscaglia and his four pretenders.”
“Pretenders?”
“Sì, pretenders. They feign faith and believe only in the guns hidden under their coats. They defile the palace with their presence and hover around Buscaglia, their noses pressed to his backside.”
Alice nodded. “Yes, I know the men of which you speak.”
“Buscaglia has too much influence. Too much, how you say, pull in the church? He believes with you removed from the picture, he will have even more.”
“He is not entirely incorrect, Roberto.”
“Sì, Sì.” He waved her off. “They have done more than enough for the church in their short tenure. I am not sure the church will survive if they are allowed to do more.” He turned, his eyes blazing, and leveled a finger at Alice. “You will visit the five of them while they are here, my giusta mano destra.”
Rafferty and Mike both looked at Alice, eyebrows raised.
“Righteous right hand,” she translated.
Rafferty shot to his feet. “Come on, Mike. We gotta go.”
Mike looked confused. As did the rest of them.
“Go?” Geri said. “Where are you going?”
Rafferty held his hands out, imploring. “We’re police detectives. We can’t sit here and listen to these two talk about murdering five guys. Technically, we could arrest them right now.”
Bob held up a finger. “No, no arrest. Diplomatic immunity.”
“For you, sure. But not for Alice. Her diplomatic passport was revoked.”
Bob shook his head. “I reinstated her Vatican passport before I came here.”
Alice sat forward. “I do hope that has not alerted Cardinal Buscaglia.”
The Pope scoffed from his place by the sink. “Distruggerò la faccia di Buscaglia!”
Alice snickered and covered her mouth. She shook with silent laughter. “Roberto, punching one of your cardinals in the face will not play well on CNN. Although I, for one, would pay good money to see that.”
All of them jumped when the doorbell rang.
Geri caught her husband’s gaze. “You expecting anyone?”
Rafferty shook his head. “There’s only one person who comes to our door and actually rings the bell instead of pounding on it.”
Geri gasped. “Oh shit. This should be interesting.”
Rafferty rushed from the kitchen. Alice heard the front door open. “Boy, do you ever know when to show up to a party. And you brought donuts.”
Bob’s head snapped up. “I hope one of them is an apple fritter,” he called out.
“I didn’t know you had company,” Rachel’s croaky voice came from the front foyer. “I can come back.”
“No,” Rafferty said urgently. “No, you have to come in. Trust me.”
Alice could hear the shrug in Rachel’s voice. “Okay, I’ll come in.”
Alice glanced from Bob, who was hurriedly wiping his hands off on his tea-towel apron, to Geri, who was grinning expectantly.
Rachel wheeled into view. “Alice, so nice to see you,” she rasped. Rafferty stood behind her, holding the box of donuts.
“Hello, Rachel. I do hope you are well.”
Rachel wheeled into the kitchen. “Geri. Mike.” She nodded to each of them. Then she focused on the Pope at the sink. “Making your company do the washing up?”
Bob turned from the sink and stepped out from behind the island and over to Rachel, wearing his friendliest smile. He clasped his hands in front of him and his gaze went from Rachel’s veil to her scar and then to her wheelchair. “Did I hear something about donuts?”
Rachel’s smile became strained. Her brow furrowed. She held out her hand and Bob took it gently in his. “I’m Rachel. Martin’s sister.” She paused. Her gaze ran from Bob’s face to the tea-towel apron hanging from his waist and back to his face again. The furrow in her brow deepened. “Have we met? You look so familiar.” Her scratchy voice had an edge to it.
Alice stepped forward and put her hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “Rachel, may I present His Holiness, Pope Benedict the Seventeenth.”
Rachel’s free hand flew up to cover her mouth. She turned pale. Her gaze locked on Bob, their hands still clasped together.
Alice pivoted to face Bob. “Your Holiness. Sister Jacobine.” She raised her brows at him.
“Ah!” His gaze settled on Rachel’s scar. “You have done the name justice.”
Rachel brushed her fingertips over the scar on her face as her eyes filled with tears. “I tried. Thank you, Your Holiness,” she rasped, her voice thick.
He gently clasped the back
