The Revealing Retreat: The Mercy and Justice Mysteries, #8

By J. R. Mathis and Susan Mathis

Enjoy this Small-Town Murder Mystery Featuring A Unique Sleuthing Couple.

 

After almost two months away, I'm so glad to be back to work at Saint Clare's.

 

True, I'm not back to celebrating Mass on a regular basis. But I'm in the office and able to help the people of my parish. I was expecting them to come to me with their problems. But I wasn't expecting them to come offering to help me.

 

So when Martin Maycord proposes a weekend retreat at a mountain lodge owned by a friend of his as a way to help Steve and Bridget Austin get caught up with preparations to have their marriage sacramentalized in the Church, I'm more than eager to accept.

 

Helen and I go off with our friends, expecting a nice weekend in the mountains.

 

We don't expect having to investigate a murder.

 

What's worse, one of our friends is the prime suspect.

 

But what's even worse, I know something about the whole thing, and I can't tell Helen . . . 

 

After almost two months away, I'm so glad to be back to work as Chief of Police.

 

It's been rough being away from my people, and I know I have a long way to go to rebuild their trust, but I'm committed to doing just that.

 

But when the opportunity comes up for me to accompany Tom on the retreat organized by Martin Maycord, I just can't turn it down. Especially since it gives me the opportunity to help one of my favorite officers.

 

So Tom and I go off with our friends, expecting to relax while Tom helps Steve and Bridget prepare for their marriage in the church. 

 

I didn't expect to wind up investigating a murder.

 

What's worse, one of our friends is the prime suspect.

 

But what's even worse, Tom knows something about the whole thing, and can't tell me . . . 

 

The Revealing Retreat  is the eighth novel in the Mercy and Justice Mysteries, a contemporary small town mystery series. The series is a sequel to the Father Tom Mysteries that began with The Penitent Priest and includes the same cast of characters. It features Father Tom Greer, a Catholic Priest who is also an amateur sleuth in the tradition of Father Brown, and his wife Helen Greer, female Chief of Police and detective in the tradition of Kinsey Millhone.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mercy and Justice Mysteries
• Release date: Nov 22, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201002121

J. R. Mathis

Susan Mathis was born in and grew up in an extremely small town in Alachua County, Florida where her family has lived for more than 100 years. When Susan was still very young, James (J.R) Mathis was born in a somewhat bigger small town about 100 miles south of where she lived. Within a decade, James' small town would become part of Orlando, the biggest tourist destination in the United States. He was not amused. That is how, while Susan was running barefoot, swimming in lakes full of alligators and feeding chickens, James was sitting in his bedroom reading books faster than his father could bring them home from the library. Were James and Susan to write their love story, it would definitely be an enemies-to-lovers trope. They met in the library where he was working. He found her demands for books that he had to pull and bring to her so unreasonable that he actually turned her into the head librarian. She in turn was so anxious to drive him away that when some friends secretly set them up she laid out an entire speech about how miserable her life was (she is typically very upbeat). Little did she suspect that he had a passionate attraction to misery and they were married just over a year later. Fast forward 26 years, three children, four grandchildren and 20 years of James working for the Federal government. He was diagnosed with a highly treatable but still very scary form of cancer. As so often happens, this brush with mortality inspired him to do something he’d always wanted to do, write a novel. After the publication of the second Father Tom Mystery, Susan joined him as coauthor. As far as the Mathises are concerned, writing together is the most fun a couple can have sitting at a computer.

Book preview

One: Tom

I have to admit that I’m more than a little nervous as I start getting ready for Mass on the morning of All Saints’ Day.

There’s no rational reason for this, unless you consider that it is the first public Mass I have celebrated since I almost died six weeks ago. With the Cardinal’s permission, I celebrated a private Mass a few days ago with my wife, Helen; church secretary, Anna; and a handful of others in attendance. This was, frankly, just to make sure I remembered how to do everything. I did, with a substantial amount of help from Dominic Trent, who has been the stalwart leader of our altar serving crew since not long after I arrived at Saint Clare’s. Dominic will be serving this morning along with my assistant, Father Francis Marian Wayne, O.P. and USMC (R). I assured Father Wayne that I would be fine on my own, since 8 a.m. Mass rarely attracts more than a couple of dozen worshippers, maybe a couple of dozen more since it is a holy day of obligation, but still nothing I can’t handle. He responded that he would slip into the sacristy in time to see if I needed help serving communion and, as always, he had the last word.

I wake up to find that Helen, never a morning person, is already up and has my one cup of coffee that I am allotted for the day brewed and waiting for me. She’s even already dressed herself and I ask, How did you manage to get up before I did? You never do that.

I guess I’m still in the habit from when you were recovering, she says with a smile, both of us reveling in the idea of my illness being a thing of the past. And anyway, she adds, Today is a special day and I wanted to have everything ready.

And so it is. My black suit, which Helen has carefully taken in to better fit my now-smaller frame, is out of the dry cleaning bag and hanging on the back of the door, along with a new black clerical shirt. A new, smaller white collar is waiting on top of the dresser, along with other new garments of a more personal nature. I crawl out of bed, singing silent hymns of praise to God for giving me the privilege of being married to this outstanding woman while continuing to serve him as a priest.

I take her in my arms. You know I never would have made it back without you, I say, giving her a kiss.

And I never would have made it back to my place in the world without you, she replies, nuzzling her head into my shoulder.

Before I can get too distracted, she says briskly, Now, time to get dressed, Father Greer. The Cardinal has not only given you permission to eat before Mass, he has ordered it. Since I have a nice pan of biscuits ready to go in the oven, I will see you downstairs in a few minutes.

It doesn't take me long to shower and dress, and the biscuits are just coming out of the oven when I get to the kitchen. Helen has laid a beautiful table this morning, complete with a cheerful yellow tablecloth and a few scattered pumpkins.

My goodness, I say, taking in the Rectory’s amber-colored Depression glass, you’ve really gone all out.

Well, she says, pouring me a glass of milk, as I said upstairs, it is a special day. But also, it's my last day as a housewife, and I wanted to make the best of it.

She sounds a little wistful as she says this, which surprises me. I say gently, I thought you were happy about going back to work?

She starts a little, as if coming out of some sort of fog, and says, I am, Tom, I really am. But no situation is perfect. To go back to work, as much as I love it, is to have less time with you, less time to do things like lay out your suit and make you a special breakfast.

But may I add, darling, that you would have less time with me anyway. I will be back to being a full-time priest again tomorrow, even if I won’t be celebrating Mass regularly until the beginning of Advent, which I still think is silly. I mean, I am perfectly . . .

No more of that, Tom, she says sternly, even though she has a smile on her face. That is what the Cardinal, in consultation with Martin, has ordered. So we’ll have no more arguments about that.

She grins at me as she scoops scrambled eggs on to my plate and hands it to me. Taking her own and sitting down, she says, Now, let’s pray before my food gets cold.

We finish breakfast and I look at my watch. Well, I better head over, I say, standing. Wouldn’t do to be late on my first day back.

No, it wouldn’t, she says, coming around the table. I’ll be over as soon as I clear the table.

Then, she lightly adjusts my collar and whispers her usual pre-Mass admonition, Go get ’em, Tiger.

***

I am not surprised that Dominic is already in the sacristy when I arrive, any more than I am surprised that the lights are on and the altar is prepared. As soon as I see his young, enthusiastic face, I am reminded of what a blessing he is and realize that it has been quite a while since I told him so.

Dominic, I say, clasping him lightly in the shoulder, I have just realized that I’ve come to take you for granted, and I’m sorry. I do appreciate all that you do to prepare for Mass. You are a blessing to me and, more importantly, to this parish.

He surprises me by enveloping me in a big hug, saying, Please don’t apologize, Father. My Dad taught me that, while we should never take others for granted, we should try to be the kind of people that others can take for granted, because they know they can depend on us.

Well, rest assured that I certainly know that about you, Dominic. Now, are we about ready?

Yes, sir, we are, he says, taking a bottle of water off the table in the center of the room and handing it to me. Now, my brother-in-law instructed me to make sure that you sit down and drink this bottle of water before Mass. So please do it, Father, because I’m in the running with Vince for godfather and I need the extra points.

Grinning, I take a seat, reveling in the comfort of the new upholstered wing chair that the parish council purchased to replace the battered folding chair I used to have. Dominic’s brother-in-law is the nationally acclaimed trauma surgeon, Dr. Martin Maycord, the man who saved my life. He and his bride of almost a year, Mae, are expecting their first child after Christmas, and the entire Trent family is trying to one up each other in preparing for the new baby.

As I drink my water, I look around the sacristy, my eyes landing on a spot just inside the door. It’s where I landed after I passed out back in September. I’m astonished to see the same old rug on the floor. According to everyone, I’d vomited a significant amount of blood. Because of his experience cleaning crime scenes, the parish council hired Nate Rodriguez to do the cleanup. According to Anna, he refused payment.

I finish my water and then put my vestments on, relishing once again in the prayers of preparation for this most holy duty. When I’m finished, I nod to Dominic and we slip out of the sacristy to go to the back of the church and process in.

As soon as I come through the door, I receive two shocks.

The first is that the church is packed, not just with mothers and small children but with men and women of all ages.

The second shock is when they begin to applaud.

I immediately turn fifteen shades of red and quickly duck my head like some sort of arrested felon. I move as quickly as I can to the doors at the back of the church as the applause subsides. I take a moment to compose myself and let a few stragglers find seats before nodding to Dominic to ring the bell, signaling the beginning of Mass.

Meshach Jackson, the giant football player-turned-Professor of Sacred Music at Myer College who is our choir director, had mentioned that we would have music for the Mass but this is so far beyond my expectation. The organ begins and the choir leads the congregation in the classic, For All the Saints. 

I process in behind Dominic, noticing the smiles and nods of the people as I pass. I’m surprised to see a number of members of the Myerton Police Department in the pews; most of them I know are not Catholic, but I was police chaplain last year. Among them, though out of uniform, is Nina Hallstead, Helen’s public affairs officer and new chief of staff. She’s holding her daughter, Nancy, and standing next to her husband, Nick Hallstead, owner of The Muffin Man bakery.

The Conway family–Helen’s chief detective, Dan; his wife, Miriam; and their children Catherine,  twins John Paul and Maximillian, Andrew, and my goddaughter Helen Joan–are all in attendance in their traditional pew in the back of the Church.

Further up are Steve and Bridget Austin with her children. I’m glad to see them, and make a mental note to try to get in touch with them this week to schedule some more pre-Cana meetings.

On the front pew, across from the one where Helen’s sitting with Gladys and Nate Rodriguez, are Martin and Mae. They usually sit further back, and I can’t help thinking that he’s at Mass not so much to commemorate the day as to keep an eye on me.

Everything goes smoothly and before I know it, it's time for me to give the homily. Because it is a weekday morning Mass, I keep things brief. Rather than try the steps up to the main pulpit, I decide to deliver it in front of the altar.

My friends, I begin, this is a glorious day for all of us who are members of the Catholic Church. Today is the day when we recognize the presence, and the help, of those members of what theologians call ‘the church invisible.’ They are our leaders who have passed on to serve in heaven, our supporters who pray for us, and our beloved family members, both known and unknown. They are important, well-known men and women of God, like Saint Peter or Maryland’s own Saint Elizabeth Anne Seton. But most of them we will never know about until we join them in heaven. They are people like my paternal grandmother, who bore and raised ten children in the faith while never missing Mass or an opportunity to pray her rosary. We have all been blessed to know saints on earth who have gone on to their reward. I have had the privilege of burying a number of them from this parish and have been blessed to hear their loved ones speak of their devotion and service to God.

A baby screams at this moment, briefly drowning out the murmuring cacophony of other infants and toddlers gathered today to see Jesus. This scream is a gift as I continue, But today, we must remember that none of these saints was born posed for a stained glass window. They came into the world, as did our Lord, as crying, needy infants. They had fathers and mothers who must have at times despaired of their futures. Imagine, if you will, Saint Elizabeth trying to explain to her family and friends why her son was living out in the desert, dressed in clothes made from camel hair and eating locusts with wild honey. ‘Really, Elizabeth,’ someone surely asked her on more than one occasion, ‘why can’t he be more like his cousin Jesus? I swear, I sometimes believe that boy is perfect.’

There’s a good bit of laughter now as I conclude. My heart goes out to Saint Elizabeth, as it does to all parents. But as one who very nearly joined the saints above some weeks ago, words cannot express how thankful I am today to be among these little saints below.

This elicits some mild laughter and I continue, I am thankful that we have so many saints in the making in our parish, and commend their parents for faithfully bringing them to Mass, not just today but every Sunday and other Holy Days of Obligation. They are the lifeblood of the Church, and their voices–yes, moms and dads, even when they cry or shout–are the sounds of life in this parish.

I pause and glance at Helen briefly before saying, As a priest, I have spent a good bit of time at hospitals, both in and out of bed, and I can tell you, life there is noisy. In a hospital, there are beeps and buzzes and these funny humming sorts of sounds. In a church, there is praying and singing and yes, fussing and screeching. It is only when death comes that things grow silent, and for that reason, if no other, I say, ‘Let the children come to [Christ], for such is the kingdom of heaven,’ and for now, a little piece of heaven on earth.

***

I don’t actually feel tired until I get back to the sacristy. Dominic is waiting for me with another bottle of water. This time he doesn’t have to persuade me to drink it. I am still gulping it down when Helen comes back with a worried look and gives me a hug. How are you feeling, Tom? she asks.

Two months ago I might have lied and said I was fine. But no more. I look at her and say with sincere honesty, Honey, I am happier than I’ve been in months, but still pretty wrung out.

That’s what we thought.

We? I ask.

Yeah. Martin, Father Wayne, and me. Father Wayne is at the door shaking hands and Martin is casually standing guard outside the door in case someone tries to come in.

Please tell him to go home, Helen. I’m fine, just tired.

I will, in a minute, after you’ve finished your water. I am about to protest when she adds, Let’s just enjoy a few more minutes of peace. Then we can slip out and get back to the Rectory to rest.

I bow to her, as always, flawless judgment, and we sit quietly together until there is a discreet knock on the door and Dominic pops his head in. Martin says to tell you the coast is clear and to call him as soon as you get home and settle somewhere comfortable.

I am thankful not to need Helen’s help getting up or walking out the side door to the rectory, but confess to being more than happy to have her wait on me the rest of the morning.

Two: Helen

On Wednesday morning, after breakfast with Tom, I drive to the station to resume full-time my duties as Chief of Police.

I’ve decided to begin my first day back by addressing the questions on the minds of my officers: what made me quit and why I came back. I’ve requested that everyone on duty, except for a skeleton crew that I have offered to meet with later, assemble in the conference room at 9 a.m. Nick Hallstead is already there when I arrive, setting up the coffee and pastries I’ve ordered. Little Nancy seems fascinated by her father’s work and sits in her car seat watching him intently.

Well, Nancy is an observant little thing, isn’t she? I say as I bend over her and waggle my fingers at her.

Nick brags, You know, they say that children can’t see very far when they’re this young, but Nina’s been doing these eye exercises with her since she was born and I swear she follows me as I move around the room.

It certainly looks like it, I say. By the way, I was surprised to see you at Saint Clare’s yesterday.

He smiles sheepishly. Yeah, well, Father Tom means a lot to Nina and me. When we heard some of the officers were going to his first service back, we decided to go. It’s not like we weren’t already awake, thanks to this little bundle of joy.

At that, Nancy lets out a little laugh. Yeah, laugh it up, Nick says to his daughter. I knew you were doing it on purpose.

I smile slightly. So, thinking of converting?

He shakes his head. No, nothing like that. But Nina has talked about wanting to go back to church for Nancy’s sake–you know, she was raised Baptist–and I figure it can’t do any harm. We’re going to check out First Baptist this Sunday. Do you know anything about it?

I know the wife of the pastor, I say. She’s really nice.

Nick’s about to say something else when he sniffs the air. Oh, crap, he says.

An odor hits my nose and I grimace. I’ll leave you to take care of that, I say.

I beat a hasty retreat from the room and go down the hall to check in with Dan. I knock on his open door and he looks up at me. Are you ready? he asks.

As ready as I can be. So, any idea about what I should expect? I ask, taking a seat across from him.

Dan, never one to pull punches, says, I think most people are ready to be supportive and they’re really glad to have you back.

He pauses and I raise an eyebrow. But? I ask.

But Helen, he says, you owe them an explanation. Nina and I have worked hard to put a positive spin on what’s been going on. But you know as well as I do how rumors fly. So, yeah, you need to be ready to come clean and to answer some tough questions.

Fair enough, I say. We still have fifteen minutes, so I decide to change the subject. Did you and Miriam talk like we discussed?

He nods. Looking ahead, most of the marriage mentor training sessions are on Saturdays. I’ll send you the days I need off.

After all I’ve put you through, I’ll sign off on the leave. You have more than enough accrued.

Just to let you know, I’ve got a meeting scheduled with Father Tom at 11 today so Miriam and I can talk about what we’re doing. Some of the requirements include observing him taking a couple through pre-Cana. I guess that would be Steve and Bridget?

I nod. He’s trying to figure out how to get them caught up. I think he’ll appreciate the help.

He looks up at the clock. Five ‘til. I’ll go down and prep the troops.

Dan leaves me alone in the office. I bow my head and cross myself, offering brief prayer to Saint Michael for wisdom and humility. When I’m done, I stand up, brush the wrinkles from my skirt, and walk down the hallway to my awaiting people.

I am a little surprised when everyone snaps to attention as soon as I enter the room. Dan has obviously brought some of his Marine training to the office in my absence.

As you were, I say as soon as I step behind the podium. Everyone resumes their seats, their attentive eyes on me.

I take a deep breath, smile, and begin. "I know that you have many questions, and I am prepared to answer any of them that I can. Before I begin, I want to thank all of you for your hard work, integrity, and devotion to duty in my absence. With your help, Detective Conway has kept our city safe, dealt with a moonshine crisis on campus, and solved a murder. That’s good work for any group of people this size, and I’m proud of you.

I also want to thank Detective Conway and Sergeant Hallstead for keeping things going in my absence. Sergeant Hallstead did it while caring for a baby, which just goes to show what women are really capable of.

There’s a round of applause for the two, who are standing together at the back of the room. 

When the applause dies down, I continue, "Keeping all that you’ve been through in mind, I want to offer you a brief explanation as to how we got to where we are now. After that, as I mentioned earlier, I’ll be glad to answer any questions. Feel free to speak up, including any grievances you have. I owe all of you that and I’m happy to pay the price.

"It may seem to you that this problem arose when my husband, Father Tom Greer, became ill. But looking back, I can say that it began before then. I was already feeling the pressure of a new office and, in spite of the fact that I had many offers of help, I was not doing a very good job accepting them. The truth is that I love being in the field more than I love being behind a desk, and I was trying to have it both ways. Then, when Tom got sick, I allowed myself to become both physically and emotionally exhausted. I became unable to do all that I felt like I needed to do and unwilling to ask for help. It was a bad place to be. It was a place that I never planned to be. The problem is that I didn’t have a plan to avoid being there.

So I made a terrible mistake. I quit the job that I loved–and make no mistake, I did love being your chief, in spite of all the drawbacks. I let down the people that I care about very much and who care about me, and made bad matters worse.  Thankfully, others went to bat on my behalf and I got a second chance.

I glance at Dan and Nina briefly. Dan smiles slightly, but Nina’s expression is indecipherable.

Looking around, I continue, "I am committed to using this second chance to benefit everyone in this room and hopefully, more people in this community. To that end, I am scheduling a monthly meeting with each of you beginning next week. This will not be a performance review, but more of a wellness check. There are lots of people in lots of professions who can do a good job while under mental stress. We are not those people. I need to know, and you need to know, that you are both physically and mentally prepared for whatever comes your way during the day. During these meetings, you will let me know if you need help with anything, including personal matters