Father Raynor and Samantha, Part 1

Good Welcome, again.
On the Wednesday before we were to leave, Father Raynor called to tell me that, while cleaning the rooms he had rented to Bishop Bassanni, he had found some things he thought we’d be interested in. These were beautiful spring days out near the forest preserve, so I invited him out for the day and to bring along his altar girls. (Samantha and the others had wanted to know if they could see the estate.) He agreed it sounded relaxing and we made a date for Friday.
When the van from the church pulled up to the main house of the estate, Fr. Raynor got out along with about six or seven girls. Ramona probably remembers all the names; I recognized Samantha from the rectory. She seemed to be the “ring-leader’ of the girls, and she had that mischief-loving look that I remembered in dear Mia’s eyes. Maxine agreed with me.
Francesca and Ramona took the girls on a tour of the grounds and had a full day of activities planned. Meanwhile, Danny helped Fr. Raynor unload a large bundle wrapped in red silk cloth from the back of the van, and we sat down on the patio. While Danny and Esperanza brought chilled wine and cheeses to the table, we chatted about little things.
Finally, with everyone seated, Father had Danny place the package before us on the table. He took the red silk covering off slowly. We could see the cloth was a liturgical vestment of some kind. This is what was underneath the cloth:






A good-sized wood box with intricate carvings, short solid legs and a hinged top, which he opened to reveal the following objects:





As he took out each object from the wood box and placed it on the table he paused to study our faces for clues. Finally he said, “I’ve had enough mass-kits in my day to know that this box is some kind of portable altar, and these utensils are for a worship service of sorts.”

Again he reached into the container and produced two figures wrapped in white cotton. He unwrapped them carefully and presented them to us.

















As he placed them both in the center of the table, again his eyes searched ours, and then looked to the mantle above the fireplace, where we had placed a figurine, and a picture of Esperanza:

















“I’m no fool. I’m certain you had more to do with Bishop Bassanni than you are saying. But, before I call the Federal Agents, my friends, I would like to know exactly who you are, and who ---- or what----you are dealing with.”

He sat down, munched on a piece of cheese and washed it down with a white Bordeaux.