Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book IV, page 1
Also by Richie Patton
four of six books
Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book IV
Series of 6 books
Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book I - The Emotionally Stirring First Novel of an Exciting New Six-book Series
Sixth of six books
Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book VI
The fifth of six books
Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book V
three of six
Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book III
two of six
Paddy O' & Curly Slim, Book II
P A D D Y O'
&
C U R L Y S L I M
BOOK IV
The exciting continuation of the inspiring saga of irresistible teens and families by
RICHIE
The heartrending fourth book of the memorable new series.
ACCLAIM FOR ***
P A D D Y O'
&
C U R L Y S L I M
“Really enjoying the book. I just finished Chapter 4 and don't want to put it down. Love the characters and your descriptive writing. I can picture everything in my mind. Terrific!” M.M.
“I liked the book. It has a good plot with some interesting moments of intrigue.” C.F.
“I adore this story. All the characters are brought to life with such detail and I find myself living in their world.” R.M.
“The characters are interesting and the progression of the story is both expected and not, which for me are musts in a good read. Paddy – adore him. His internal dialogue feels real. He has great appeal. I like seeing how he matures and gets better working through his mounting problems. Rhonda –
cool girl. Lots of … class. Really like the little sit-down between Rhonda's Mom and Paddy. All the characters who came into Paddy's life subsequently made for a good story.” N.S.
“You connected me to people … Love each of the characters. I could really be friends with Joey. What a refreshing read – not riddled with descriptive sex scenes, violence … but references to great values (hard work, praying devotion, etc.). So now that I finished the first part through tear-filled eyes, please send the rest of this wonderful story.” J.P.
“I enjoyed your book very much and would highly recommend it. It is a fun book. The relationship between Rhonda and Paddy works well. There's adventure, comedy and warm caring. I think Corker is a wonderful dog. I can just picture him.” N.M.
*** Comments from readers of the books' manuscripts. Used with their permission.
Copyright © 2013 and 2018 by Richard A. Patton (writing as RICHIE) All rights reserved. No part of this book of fiction may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system, without permission of the author. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
Cover designed by:
This sequel of the superstupendalificous saga is also dedicated to the original “Curly Slim” – partner, lover, mother of our beautiful “critters,” soul mate, my wife, Betty. As she would rightly say: “Living with an Irishman builds character.” Who else in their right mind, in their wildest imagination, would begin to give me the patience and perseverance, tolerance and unconditional love she has.
“May the saddest days of the future be no worse than the happiest days of your past.”
– Irish blessing**
“May flowers always line your path
and sunshine light your day.
May songbirds serenade you every
step along the way.
May a rainbow run beside you in a
sky that's always blue.
And may happiness fill your heart
each day your whole life through.”
– Irish blessing**
** The blessings are from a number of different sources.
Patton/PADDY O' … IV
Chapter 1
“Mam, speak to me … please speak to me. Paaaaddy, come quick.”
Paddy flew down the stairs two at a time, skidding to a stop in front of the open bathroom door.
Kiara was on the dark linoleum floor, holding her mother's prostrate body in her arms. Corker, who Molly had become closer to in the past year, was beside them, mewling and furiously licking Molly's inanimate face.
“Ki, stay where you are! Don't move Mam from your arms. Corker, heel!” The bull mastiff mix usually quick to respond to Paddy's commands, hesitated like he wasn't sure who he should be by.
Then, with another lick of his broad tongue to Molly's face, scampered to Paddy side. “Corker, sit …
stay!”
Patton/PADDY O' … IV
2
Paddy rushed forward. He knelt down; then, bent low to his mother's chest. There was no movement, no sound. He took her wrist to check for a pulse. Again, nothing. He checked her carotid pulse. Nothing. “Ki, quickly call the police … the emergency number by the phone. After you speak to them, go outside ... wave them down so there's no delay. Go! Hurry!”
Paddy started CPR, just like he had with Rhonda at Lake St. Clair. But this time, after having practiced with Rhonda's guidance on a mannequin, more confident and more proficient. It's got to work again, he assured himself. No, it will work. His tears wet the front of his mother's blouse as he worked furiously to force life into her limp body. “C'mon, Mam!” he screamed, “dammit, breathe … breathe …
breathe, ya gotta breathe. God, make her breathe … don't let her leave us. Please … don't. ”
He kept going and going and going … He couldn't stop. There was no way he would stop, not until she would come to life like Rhonda did last summer, coughing and sputtering and finally drawing breath normally.
He was panting, inhaling large gulps of air, chest burning, arms now so exhausted he could only pump in slow motion when he felt the hand on his shoulder.
“Son, let us help.”
Paddy looked back, saw two uniformed police officers through blurry eyes. One gently pulled up his limp body and set him down in the hallway. Kiara immediately clung to him with Corker beside them. The other officer took Molly's vitals. Lips compressed, shaking his head dejectedly, he glanced at the first officer who was now performing CPR. The officer stopped pumping and rocked back on his heels.
Kiara let go of Paddy, sprang up, rushed to her deceased mother and wailed. “No, Mam! You can't leave us, you can't, you ...”
One of the policemen stopped her short and was hugging her to his bulk when Paddy wearily got to his feet, gently extracted her away and, holding her close, shuffled the two of them into the den.
Last year there was the death of their father. Since then, at North Main Animal Hospital, the deaths of clients beloved pets and their anguished reactions. He didn't like any of the deaths but he had become dispassionate, accepting of the inevitable. Didn't Father Haney tell him following the death of his father, Rory, “Son, life and eventually death are both as natural as our breathing, the beatings of our hearts. Our ultimate salvation is eternal life in and with our Lord Jesus Christ. It's just as natural to grieve and miss loved ones.” He hadn't grieved much over the loss of his biological father and wondered, now, how he would actually take his mother's passing from this point.
Patton/PADDY O' … IV
Chapter 2
“Young man, I'm sorry,” said the shorter of the two officers pulling up one of the matching rattan chairs. “Just a few more questions and we'll be out of your hair.” The taller officer took the other chair close to the east window. Rays of early sun bathed his tight crew cut styled sandy hair.
“Yessir,” Paddy answered dully, petting Kiara's head as her sobs ebbed to whimpering. Corker sat in front of her with his huge head covering her thighs and lap, gazing up with sad eyes.
The officer by the window made notes of Paddy's answers in a pocket-size notebook.
“And, your mother was a homemaker?”
Kiara raised her head and interjected. “No!” Her strangled tone was full of hurt and belligerence. She twisted around and faced the officer with burning eyes. “She has a big sewing
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business, employs two other women, does so much so we can stay in this house, she … she ...” Kiara slumped against Paddy, sobbing.
The questioning officer gave Paddy a sad look and mouthed, “Sorry.”
The officer with the small notebook got up and went to the doorway. He eyed the phone on the end table beside the small couch and shook his head. He glanced at his partner and murmured, “Jimmy, I'll call from the patrol car.”
Jimmy nodded solemnly. “Okay, Hubie.” He retuned his attention to the sad tableau on the small couch. “Paddy, are you up to more talk?”
“If you like.” Paddy stroked Corker's head with his free hand while Kiara's sobs decreased to intermittent noisy inhaling.
“We're done with our questions but I'm curious about something, if you don't mind. Are you the Irish lad Detective Bratton told everyone about last year? And, this is your dog who took a chunk out of that scofflaw's butt.”
Deadpan, Paddy gave the officer a long look. “Depends on what will happen if I admit to it.
Corker, not a word now, y'hear.” Even in his sadness the teen couldn't help his whimsy.
The officer smiled knowingly and extended his hand. “I'd like to shake your hand, kid.”
Corker rose up, poised, looking to the doorway; then, wagging his tail, shimmied out of the room.
Moments later, preceded by His Hugeness, Anna Murphy appeared in the doorway -- her husband, Garrett, looking over her shoulder – and immediately went to the kids. She crouched and took both in her arms. Silent tears trailed down her cheeks.
Officer Hubie, who had led the Murphys into the house, looked at his partner and said, “Jimmy, the Assistant Coroner is on his way. I'll be in the living room.”
Anna looked up with bloodshot eyes. “Garrett, be a good man and go to Church. See if Father Haney or Rodgers can come. Leave the children in the nursery while you're on the hunt.”
Suddenly realizing Rhonda was awaiting him for the beginning of their day, Paddy jumped up with a grunt. “Excuse me.” He snatched the phone off the end table and extended the cord into the hallway.
Paddy dialed. The phone had hardly rung at the other end when he heard her canorous voice. It always lifted him up, even under the worst circumstances. “Duczinski, residence.”
“Curly Slim ...” He hesitated, thinking, How best do you tell someone your mother suddenly
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died.
“O,' are you okay?”
He drew a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “Macushla, I have … have bad news. We found” –
he paused, fighting back emotion threatening to erupt -- “Mom dead this morning.”
“Ohhh my God. How awful. I'll be right there.”
“Wait, baby. I want to have you here so badly, to hold you right now but we need you to do some things before you come. Maybe it'd be easier for you at your house, okay?”
“O', whatever I can do to help.”
“Please call Rene and Chuck about today. Then Joey. He might be at Lorraine's.”
“How 'bout the Shrine?”
“Anna's here and Garrett's gone to look for Father Haney or Rodgers.”
“Okay, I'll get on the calls right away and be over there as soon as I can.”
“Thanks, Polska Girl. I love you more.
“We'll debate that later.”
#
“Son, your mother's next of kin?”
Paddy eyed the Assistant Coroner, a tiny, middle-age man with a horsey face – one his mother would call homely – with thinning blond hair and astute brown eyes that projected empathy and understanding. “Just my sister, Kiara, and I, sir. Both sets of grandparents in Ireland are gone. There's no one else. Will there be an autopsy?”
“Your father?”
“He died last year, sir. He and Mam were from Ireland.”
“I see. Are there any adults in your family here?”
“Me, sir. I'm 18.”
“Son, I'm sure you're, uhm, mature and capable but I mean someone over 21.”
“Sir, I'm responsible for me and my sister, now.” The answer came out with a testy edge but Paddy really didn't care at the moment. He gave the man an exasperated look. He was about to ask, What if there was no one 21? but instead, not wanting to be pissy, said, “My adoptive father. He's over 21.”
“His name, please?”
“Joseph L'Hommedieu.”
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At hearing Joey's name, the man's expression changed to instant recognition. Silently, he bowed his head to the notebook in which he was making personal shorthand notes and wrote. Adept at reading upside down, Paddy smiled to himself as he read, “Joey La.” It was a common nickname Joey was known by in some circles. Hmpf, another one of Joey's secret clients, Paddy thought.
As soon as the man raised his eyes, Paddy switched his expression to solemn.
“What is Mr. Lamadoo's telephone number?”
Paddy was tempted for a moment to say something like, “Sir, try the same number you use to bet with him.” However, telling himself not to be a wise guy and complicating an already difficult time he, instead, took out his wallet and extracted Joey's card – the one with “EQUINE CONSULTANT” on the front – and gave him Joey's protected private number. “Sir, will you try to contact him today?”
“No, first thing tomorrow. Why?”
“He knew my mother well. I want him to hear about her from the family. We'll be in touch with him, today.”
“Thank you, young man.” He held Paddy with genuinely compassionate eyes. “I'm sorry for your loss. We'll take good care of your mother. I almost forgot … the autopsy will be completed soon.
I'll make sure you get the report. If there is anything I can do for you and your sister, don't hesitate to contact me.”
“Thank you, sir.”
#
The Assistant Coroner, helped by the policemen, transported Molly's sheet covered body on a collapsible gurney into an Oakland County van. Paddy watched the loading sadly but happy to know Kiara was in the back of the house comforted by Anna Murphy, the moxie countrywoman, they both loved. Ki was taking her mother's passing particularly hard. He hated to see anyone, human or animal, suffer but especially his family. Rory, with his Pancreatic Cancer, seemed to suffer more than enough for all of them before he succumbed last year. Paddy felt numb. He wondered when Molly's sudden death and absence would hit him. What else could he do?
As the van pulled onto 12 Mile Road, he surveyed the area in front of the house. A small group of curious neighbors – Mr. Zemoyn, Mr and Mrs Wendt, the Kaufmans and old man Vachon – had congregated on the sidewalk next door on the line between Mr. Vachon's house and theirs. While they kibbitzed, they threw anxious and wary glances toward the O'Shaughnessy house. With the rash of recent burglaries, the people on several blocks of 12 Mile east of Crooks Road and nearby cross streets
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were nervous. At one time or another, the last three years Paddy had done some form of odd jobs for many of them. He liked them all, especially Vachon, the old widower who always had a kind word for him, was always candid and treated him like an equal rather than an inferior kid.
Head aching, Paddy ambled out to the group. Before he could speak, Mr. Vachon threw his arms around him and just held him for several long moments. Then, the old man who was surprisingly strong held the teen at arms length. “Son, we're all naturally curious. If you're up to talking.”
Paddy nodded. “Folks, Mr. V., we found Mom on the bathroom floor. Kiara and I tried to revive her; then, the police.”
“Was it, ah, caused by someone breaking in and hurting your mother?” Mr. Zemoyn posited.
Paddy shook his head. “No, sir. Nothing like that. Right now we don't know exactly what caused her fall. She hasn't been feeling very good the last few weeks. We're going to make sure there's an autopsy.”
Behind the gathering, a car pulled into the O'Shaughnessy's driveway. Down deep Paddy was hoping it was Rhonda. He needed her close, her mere presence seemed to give him strength and solace during difficulties. He glanced over to see one of the priests from the Shrine; then, turned back to the group. “Excuse me, our friend Father Brogan Haney.”
After they hugged warmly, Paddy said, “Father, thanks for coming so quickly. You know how much we need you with us but I hope Garrett didn't take you from something else you had to do.”
“Charlie (referring to legendary Pastor Father Charles Coughlin) can handle it quite well.”
“Come, our Kiara needs you.”
They stopped on the front porch before the house door. The savvy young priest gave his former
altar boy a probing look. “And, you son?” Paddy looked long into the caring dark eyes of the Black Irishman who knew more about him than anyone else.
Over some four years, the teen had developed a special bond with the genial and very likable Father Haney. He hailed from County Wicklow, Rory's home county that bordered Molly's home area County Wexford, and had one of those rare personalities to which people were immediately drawn and, sometimes to his consternation, were all too quick to unload their deepest intimate thoughts. Originally through the Sacrament of Confession and receiving absolution for his transgressions their relationship grew to avuncular/nephew intimacy. To Paddy, the association he developed with the good priest was exactly what he needed with an older male for he didn't enjoy anything of the kind with his remote, austere father. It wasn't long before the two, both given to a certain whimsy were delighting in one
