“What am I looking at?”

“Pieter Bruegel the Elder did a series of engravings with the Seven Deadly Sins as his subject. This one is Anger. You can talk about Greed or Pride being wrong, but it doesn’t mean much to children. Eternal damnation’s an abstract, so what do they care? On the other hand, they know about tantrums and school yard fights, with all the scratching, biting, and kicking that accompanies them. They also have a keen understanding of punishment. This is a hell they can see with their own eyes. You’d be surprised how much fun we have.”

She was searching for a particular piece, so I held my tongue. “Where are you, you little dickens?” she murmured to herself.

I stole a quick look at my surroundings, which included the living room and a portion of the kitchen. The furniture was the sort I’ve seen at Goodwill donation centers: serviceable and well-used. No antiques and no pieces that would even qualify as “collectible,” except for the oven, which was a four-burner O’Keefe and Merritt with a center griddle, a fold-down shelf, drop-in salt and pepper shakers, and a clock that displayed the correct time. Henry would have given an arm and a leg for it.

Idly, she said, “I’m sorry to hear about Mr. Wolinsky. Was he ill?”

“He was killed in a robbery attempt,” I said, without going into any detail. “He went to some lengths to hide the mailer, so he must have been worried about its falling into the wrong hands. Do you have any idea why Father Xavier gave it to him?”

“Mr. Wolinsky told me April was living in Santa Teresa. I’d imagine he told Father Xavier the same thing. He saw her wedding announcement in the paper and that’s what set him thinking.” She picked up a puzzle piece and pressed it into place. “Gotcha. Hah! I haven’t laid eyes on that package in years. I expect Father Xavier asked him to deliver it.”

“How well did you know Lenore?”

“Her family attended St. Elizabeth’s the same as we did. I sat for Lenore when she was just a tiny little thing. I called her Lennie, but I might have been the only one who did. Once she married Ned, I looked after April if she was having a bad time of it. I raised six babies of my own and I know how rough it can be.”

“May I ask why she used your return address instead of her own?”

“She worried the package might be sent back. She didn’t want Ned to know she’d sent the keepsakes to Father Xavier.”

“Why?”

“He wasn’t a Catholic. I’m sure she didn’t trust him to pass along the Bible and the rosary. Sometimes he got in a rage and destroyed things.”

“Was that often?”

“More so as time went on. He had no patience with her. She was subject to low days. Migraine headaches, no energy, poor appetite. She had a nervous disposition and it was clear she needed help. By then, my children were grown and I missed having little ones underfoot. Ned was often on the road, so it fell to her to take care of everything. When he was home, she had to be Johnny-on-the-spot. He’d snap his fingers and she was supposed to hop to.”