or two from Doctor van Hoot, and maybe even a few from his close associates.
The sordid affair of two old drunks doing things they wished they had not was as old as the hills. Stifling any negative repercussions in the name of the Abbey could bring benefits all around.
But, Brother Mike had no idea of how or where to start. Nevertheless, this was not a time for complete candor, so Brother Mike took his leave of the Doctor, thanking him for sharing his problem; hoping the intervention of the Church could bring some solace. He further assured the Doctor he would provide his Father with only the briefest summary while he himself would examine how it might be possible to mitigate any negatives from this unfortunate happenstance.
Brother Mike believed in taking prompt, but well thought out action. His first call was on Antonio. The shopkeeper knew all the businessmen and would-be businessmen in town. He knew not only their business, but their stories. He found such knowledge invaluable in optimizing the profits from his own investments.
When asked about Doctor van Hoot’s mother-in-law, with no explanation offered as to why this person was of interest, Antonio’s first reaction was, “Oh her!”
As Brother Mike dug deeper, Antonio unveiled a tale of many twists. The good lady’s husband, now long departed, was seen by all, including the Doctor, as the father of the Doctor’s wife. However, the madam had been more libertine than a Bangkok hooker. In her youth she had been known, in the Biblical sense, by many of the community, regardless of their age, ethnic origin, or social standing. Her daughter was a case in point. She was in truth not the child of the good lady’s husband, but the child of an Arab trader who sold motorcycle parts, a Muslim merchant.
This presented a particular dilemma for the once so vampish lady. She was nonchalant about her many past imprudences, oblivious of her reputation, and unavoidably carried the baggage of her slattern past to the present. Nevertheless, at her husband’s death she had inherited his considerable assets with the codicil that these riches be used for their daughter, both for her dowry and a stipend for her after her marriage. Any additional funds over and beyond the daughter’s needs were to be available for his loving wife. And, the madam made sure her daughter’s needs were modest at best, living a fine life on the residue. But these arrangements had been, and continued to be, much contested by the late husband’s brother, with whom he had held many of the investments in partnership.
Brother Mike now saw light in the tunnel. If the wanton and now venerable madam went ahead with her scheme to try to turn her daughter against her doctor husband, then the daughter could seek retribution by informing her uncle of her mother’s promiscuity, which would certainly make her father’s will null and void as she was not in truth her father’s daughter. Thus, the wealth of the dear man should pass to his brother, not to his wife and child. Ah yes, thought Brother Mike, circles within circles.
With the power of intrigue and innuendo now in his hands, Brother Mike could see about organizing things. He gave a scanty accounting to the Abbot with his affirmation that the Abbey would be seen as a unifier and peace-bringer to a common-day domestic problem, enhancing the monastery’s standing and placing the good Doctor in the Abbey’s debt. He then found the Doctor busy in his office, professing to him that he, Brother Mike, would be able to heal this unfortunate wound and that the Doctor and his wife would once again find joy and comfort in their home—the mother-in-law would be making no problems.
Finally, the most difficult of the trilogy of plans—convincing the most unpleasant madam to cease and desist. Almost as though bent on self-destruction, her notoriety indicated she would indeed be the toughest of the trio to get on board. But Brother Mike could be very convincing when he was committed.
Brother Mike found the lady in question at her home, a pre-Independence brick structure with what must have been at one time very nice ornamental gardens. Unfortunately, at least from Brother Mike’s perspective, the home and garden were in need of a lot of loving care. The lady of the house herself was found in the parlor, sipping a glass of whisky, still in her bathrobe.
While she exuded an air of nonchalance, Brother Mike immediately sensed an aura of danger. Danger, yet in some way a sensual peril. This woman would be a testament to his skills.
She seemed to put out tentacles to test the waters, could she seduce or otherwise entice this religious man? Apparently her on-the-spot assessment was negative and, like an amoeba, she changed shape, assuming a less defiant and aggressive mien.
Politely declining her offer to imbibe with a charming smile and an imperceptible bow, Brother Mike sat upright in the rocker across from his subject. He realized diplomacy would be a wasted effort and cut immediately to the core of the matter: was she intent on making the otherwise honorable Doctor van Hoot pay for his recent and regrettable indiscretion?
She only smiled over the rim of her glass. Brother Mike, expecting as much, came forth with his carrot and stick: the stick first. In the most succinct of terms, he recalled how he had proof (perhaps a bit of a stretch on his part) that the father of her daughter was in fact a Muslim trafficker and not the upstanding businessman the community as a whole had taken to be the girl’s sire. Were this irregularity to be made widely known, unquestionably the uncle would feel obliged to go to court to right this grievous wrong. However, to ensure that no such action was taken, and to allow all parties a respite, Doctor van Hoot was happy to provide the lady with a return ticket to Brussels where she could go to visit the family undoubtedly anxious to hear from her, passing a few leisurely months enjoying the climate and the food, free from the cabals spinning around her here.
Brother Mike had known instinctively when he entered the house that a threat would not be sufficient to achieve his aims—he needed a carrot. While he had not discussed the payment of airfare with the Doctor, he was sure he would feel this a small price to pay to get this lubricious event dismissed and have his family life return to normal.
Brother Mike took the lady’s continued silence as acquiescence. He stood up, indicating that he felt the affair was closed and saw himself off. The lady took a gulp of whisky as he closed the door.
Bouncing back to the Abbey in the pickup, Brother Mike wished he were on the pond back where he could contemplate in a more suitable, calming setting. But here he was. This was not and had not been just business as usual. This was damage control for things that had run amok. The mess had not been a mess of the Abbey, and God knew there were many headaches there awaiting attention. The mess was not a mess of the Church, although God also knew His Church needed special attention in many areas. The mess was not even a mess of the town, province, or country. The mess was the mess of two inebriated foolish people, the same type of mess that foolish people everywhere get themselves into all the time. Why had this warranted his intervention? Not his intervention as Brother Mike, a relative nobody who was hopefully someone still relatively invisible to those surveying the landscape. This had indeed been an intervention by himself on behalf of the Farther Abbot and by inference, on behalf of the Abbey and even the Church. This role for him was either the pure and simple coincidence of the Abbot deciding he should provide a helping hand to someone, anyone, to demonstrate the Abbey’s good faith. Or, this was a calculated intervention by the Abbot using Brother Mike as his agent. Flukes did happen. In fact, they happened with surprising regularity, but this did not feel like a fluke. This felt like the beginning of a movement or an offensive. The sands had begun to shift in some direction and Brother Mike needed to make sure he did not lose his balance.
❦❦❦
Over the next poker game, Brother Mike fixed his sights on Antonio who had been so helpful in exposing the history of the van Hoot quandary. “Antonio,” he asked, “who best knows the annals of the various religious groups hereabouts from before Independence to the present?”
After briefly pulling on his chin, Antonio recommended
