Read Online The Christmas Night Murder by Lee Harris - Free Book Online
Authors: Lee Harris
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never touched that girl, with or without her permission.” She spoke firmly, passionately. Joseph is the kind of friend who will stand by you forever.
“How much of this got out, Joseph?”
“I think we managed to contain it. The nuns, of course, knew; at least many of them did. I am convinced the bishop believed Hudson and wanted only to save his reputation by getting him away as soon as possible. I have never discussed any of this with Father Kramer, but I assume the bishop didn’t leave him in the dark. But I believe that the village parish was kept out of the rumor mill.”
“So you gave him a big party and he went out west.”
“Essentially that’s it. But of course, there was still Julia.”
“I hope she was given professional care.”
“I wish she had been.” Joseph pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. She nudged her glasses a little higher on her nose and walked to her desk. “Her father came for her the next day. Sister Clare Angela had already told her about her mother.”
“How did she take it?”
“Strangely. As if she hadn’t quite heard the news or it had failed to penetrate. She became very quiet. Either Sister Clare Angela or Sister Mary Teresa sat with her for a long time that night and finally she fell asleep. In the morning she went to prayers with the rest of us, and to mass, then went back to her room and packed her bags. Her father never called to say he was coming, but she seemed to know that he would. She was downstairs waiting for him when he arrived to take her home. I remember seeing her there, still in her habit, standing like a lost waif next to her suitcase. In fact, he drove up just a few minutes after she got back to the Mother House.”
“Back from where?”
“She asked Hudson to hear a last confession.”
“I see.” It didn’t sound like the act of a victim.
“I walked her to the chapel myself and waited outside for her. Then we walked back together. She never said a word. I don’t know where Hudson was. He must have stayed in the chapel.”
“How do you know she didn’t get medical care?”
Joseph came back to the long table and stood with her hands on the back of the chair she had left a few minutes earlier. “We heard afterward that she had stayed at home with her father after her mother died. And on Christmas”—she paused—“Julia hanged herself.”
“Oh Joseph.”
“It could not have ended more tragically. I cannot tell you how many times over the last seven years I have asked myself if we couldn’t have done more for her, if we shouldn’t have overridden her father’s order and gotten a psychiatrist, if one of us could have helped her with the counseling.” She looked as though she were putting herself through the agony once again. “When Sister Clare Angela was ill, she spoke to me of it again and again, as though her entire religious career hung on that poor child. It was devastating, Chris.”
“I can imagine. How terrible for everyone. No wonder Hudson never came back to visit. The thought of all that must have been enough to keep him away.”
“Which brings me to the end of the story.” She sat down again. “Apparently Mr. Farragut dropped his charges when Hudson left the area and Julia died. I can’t even tell you if she ever spoke to either the bishop or the police about what allegedly happened. If I had to guess, I would say she hadn’t or that her story was so twisted it was worthless. We heard a few years ago that Mr. Farragut had moved away from the area, too—he had lived in a small town about twenty miles from here—and we never heard anything from him again. Until today.”
My heart froze. “What happened?”
“The state police called and said that an all-terrain vehicle with Wyoming plates had been spotted parked at a curb in front of a house. The town had a restriction on overnightstreet parking, so it was noticed when a police car made its usual rounds. They checked the plate number and it
“How much of this got out, Joseph?”
“I think we managed to contain it. The nuns, of course, knew; at least many of them did. I am convinced the bishop believed Hudson and wanted only to save his reputation by getting him away as soon as possible. I have never discussed any of this with Father Kramer, but I assume the bishop didn’t leave him in the dark. But I believe that the village parish was kept out of the rumor mill.”
“So you gave him a big party and he went out west.”
“Essentially that’s it. But of course, there was still Julia.”
“I hope she was given professional care.”
“I wish she had been.” Joseph pushed her chair away from the table and stood up. She nudged her glasses a little higher on her nose and walked to her desk. “Her father came for her the next day. Sister Clare Angela had already told her about her mother.”
“How did she take it?”
“Strangely. As if she hadn’t quite heard the news or it had failed to penetrate. She became very quiet. Either Sister Clare Angela or Sister Mary Teresa sat with her for a long time that night and finally she fell asleep. In the morning she went to prayers with the rest of us, and to mass, then went back to her room and packed her bags. Her father never called to say he was coming, but she seemed to know that he would. She was downstairs waiting for him when he arrived to take her home. I remember seeing her there, still in her habit, standing like a lost waif next to her suitcase. In fact, he drove up just a few minutes after she got back to the Mother House.”
“Back from where?”
“She asked Hudson to hear a last confession.”
“I see.” It didn’t sound like the act of a victim.
“I walked her to the chapel myself and waited outside for her. Then we walked back together. She never said a word. I don’t know where Hudson was. He must have stayed in the chapel.”
“How do you know she didn’t get medical care?”
Joseph came back to the long table and stood with her hands on the back of the chair she had left a few minutes earlier. “We heard afterward that she had stayed at home with her father after her mother died. And on Christmas”—she paused—“Julia hanged herself.”
“Oh Joseph.”
“It could not have ended more tragically. I cannot tell you how many times over the last seven years I have asked myself if we couldn’t have done more for her, if we shouldn’t have overridden her father’s order and gotten a psychiatrist, if one of us could have helped her with the counseling.” She looked as though she were putting herself through the agony once again. “When Sister Clare Angela was ill, she spoke to me of it again and again, as though her entire religious career hung on that poor child. It was devastating, Chris.”
“I can imagine. How terrible for everyone. No wonder Hudson never came back to visit. The thought of all that must have been enough to keep him away.”
“Which brings me to the end of the story.” She sat down again. “Apparently Mr. Farragut dropped his charges when Hudson left the area and Julia died. I can’t even tell you if she ever spoke to either the bishop or the police about what allegedly happened. If I had to guess, I would say she hadn’t or that her story was so twisted it was worthless. We heard a few years ago that Mr. Farragut had moved away from the area, too—he had lived in a small town about twenty miles from here—and we never heard anything from him again. Until today.”
My heart froze. “What happened?”
“The state police called and said that an all-terrain vehicle with Wyoming plates had been spotted parked at a curb in front of a house. The town had a restriction on overnightstreet parking, so it was noticed when a police car made its usual rounds. They checked the plate number and it
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