Diana Racine 02 - Goddess of the Moon

religion. You have to believe, Ernie, because if you thought too long , most of it doesn’t make sense.” She sipped her wine, then placed the glass on the table. “Let’s eat.”
    “Right, I almost forgot. I’m starved.”
    “You said that hours ago.”
    Lucier forked a piece of meat but stopped before he put it in him mouth. “I keep thinking about the baby. Where is she? Why was she stolen?”
    “No word?”
    “Nothing. Every case has been a dead end. What are you doing tomorrow? ”
    “Nothing special. Answer some email, pay a few bills. Why?”
    “Will you go with me to the Sunrise Mission. ”
    A smile brightened Diana’s face. “Brother Osiris? Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
    Lucier put the pot roast in his mouth . “Hey, this is damn good.”
    “Is it? Really?”
    “Absolutely.” He proceeded to polish off his dinner. Studying his empty plate, he said, “Hmm, I seem to recall you mentioned something about my favorite dessert.”
    “Warm with whipped cream―coming up.”

Chapter Eight
    A Magnetic Attraction

    T he next morning w hen Lucier got to the station, Beecher followed him into his office. “Name of our suspect isn’t Dudley Reems , it’s Ridley Deems. No record, but he has a warning for soliciting a fourteen-year old―a runaway, most likely. The girl screamed and caught the attention of a beat cop. She bolted, and they couldn’t hold Deems without her, but the cop wrote him up. We checked his last address, but he’s slipped under the radar.”
    Lucier took the sheet. “We’ll check if the name and picture mean anything to Brother Osiris. Diana’s meet ing me for lunch, and we’re going to the Sunrise Mission together. Maybe she’ll have a take on this creature from mythology. ”
    * * * * *
    D iana and Lucier arrived at the Sunrise Mission at two. Situated on the fringe of downtown in what appeared to be an old cotton warehouse, the mission offered the homeless a bed and hot food for those in need. It reminded Diana of a children’s shelter where she spe nt the afternoon while on tour some years ago.
    “We’re here to see Brother Osiris,” Lucier said to the woman sweeping the entry floor. “We have an appointment.”
    “You must be Lieutenant Lucier, and you, of course, are the famous Diana Racine. Your reputation precedes you.” It was a man’s voice that answered. The speaker was a tall, lean man in his mid to late forties, with olive skin and prematurely gray hair.
    His face, though handsome, was etched with the crags and creases of life’s hard fought battles. A man who’d seen it all was Diana’s first impression. His piercing blue-gray eyes laser ed right through her. He wore a long-sleeved , dark red polo shirt, blue jeans, and rubber-soled loafers. He offered his hand to Lucier but not to Diana. She retrieved her outstretched hand and stiffened at the slight.
    “I’m Brother Osiris. Don’t be put off by the name. The Brother is to make people comfortable, and Osiris speaks of a man who, though cut in many pieces, had the good fortune to be repaired. A little mythology, a little philosophy, a lot of hope. Real name is Edward Slater. You can call me whatever you want. Come into my office and tell me what this is about.”
    Well , Diana thought, raising eyebrows to Lucier, he took the phony right out of that, didn’t he? She wondered if Slater’s reluctance to shake her hand meant he feared touching her. Considering all the published accounts about her sensitivity to contact, she found th e action, or lack of it, significant.
    “Somehow I thought you’d greet us in a long, flowing white robe,” Diana said. “I didn’t expect anyone so down to earth.”
    He laughed out loud as he led them through a large dining area with a half dozen harvest tables, each seating twelve. Basic condiments and napkin holders a nchored the ends of the tables.
    “Sorry to disappoint you,” he said. “That would be a little over the top, even for me. As you can see, this is our dining room, and these are the sleeping quarters.”
    He held open a swinging door, and they passed through a large room with cots on each side of a narrow aisle. Satchels and plastic bags stuffed with the occupants ’ worldly good s filled the floor beneath the cots, some schoolbooks littered the tops.
    “Until Katrina, we had enough to satisfy the demand, except on cold nights,” Slater said. “Fortunately, this old brick building weathered the storm. Other than some missing