CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Father Lonigan was at his desk, working on his sermon in the rear office of the church; which was named St. Joseph’s. The church was quiet and empty, or so he thought. The sound that filtered its way to his open office door, reminded him of cats having a sexual encounter—that of muffled cries.
Curiosity finally got the better of him as he made his way up to the main area. To his surprise, there sat Hazel Mueller in the first pew, her hands cupped over her face and crying with such heaving force, she was having trouble catching her breath.
Sitting next to her, she pulled her hands away from her face as he put one arm around her drooping shoulder’s and the other, he started patting her leg softly to comfort her.
Her handkerchief was almost completely drenched from the tears and mucus, so the good father offered his handkerchief—which he had only used once earlier in the day. He folded it so she wouldn’t notice it right off.
“Hazel,” he said ever so gently, “why all the tears, dear one?”
“Oh Father, I…I…killed him,” She blurted out as the flood gates opened once again, “I didn’t…I didn’t know what…what to do, so I…I buried him in my back yard.”
A look of shock came over Samuel as she said this, “Oh my goodness, who did you kill?”
“Will I burn in hell Father?” Her whaling had subsided a good bit as she waited for his holy reply.
“Hazel, I need you to tell me who it was you killed, please dear?” Father Lonigan was usually very secure and could handle the ups and downs of the average person’s religious life; but murder was something altogether new to him. Never before had he faced such a situation. Death and dying come with the job title, as he knew full well, but never had anyone confessed to him of committing such a ghastly deed.
She blew her nose several times as the good father waited patiently for her answer, “It was Mandrake, he ran in front of my car and I couldn’t help it. I ran right over his head. I panicked, so I picked him up by his tail and put him in my trunk. Later that day, I got my garden spade and buried him at the end of my rose bushes in the back yard. I’m so sorry, can god ever forgive me?” The dam broke once again with tears and mucus gushing forth.
Father Lonigan was taken aback for a moment, “Mandrake…Mable Zeeks cat?” A sigh of relief washed over him.
“Yes, the very one.” She was now calming a bit waiting for the good father’s reassurance that she wasn’t going to burn in hell.
Samuel now had the undeniable urge to laugh out loud, but remaining in full control as he fully realized how this event had such a profound effect on poor Hazel, “Dear one, God will not punish you for the accidental death of Mandrake; rest assured your soul is still going to heaven.” What he didn’t say was that God would not punish her, but Mad-Dog-Mable would make her life a living hell once she finds out.