by Rita Moreau
“No,” Aunt Sophia said. “Like I told Louis, let the police do their job, and they will find out what happened to Ivan that night without any help from me or MC.”
I walked over to my Aunt Sophia and took her hand in mine. It was ice cold. I sat down next to her and closed my eyes. She squeezed my hand and then removed it and folded her arms together in front of her and looked straight ahead. She might not be talking, but her body language was loud and clear.
“Well,” my Aunt Anna asked impatiently.
“Nothing, I saw nothing,” I said looking at my Aunt Sophia who looked at me and then stood.
“Time to go,” she said to the roomful of psychics and one superstitious woman.
We said our goodbyes. Velma, my aunts and I made our way to where Louie was waiting for us.
Velma spoke next, “Looks like we are back in business, MC.” Velma didn’t seem any more excited at this prospect than I was at the moment. We spent the ride back in silence, drinking ouzo out of the cute little mini solo cups.
7
Sister Hildegard, Sister Matilda, and Aunt Anna were standing in front of the entrance to the convent, and Limo Louie was inside with Aunt Sophia. He had gotten a call from Hammerhead, the toxicology and autopsy reports were in, and he was on his way over to the convent to arrest Aunt Sophia. The news had evidently been leaked to the press, and the cable and network news trucks were already hovering like vultures. Groups of protesters were also gathering and waving signs that read: “Long live Aunt Sophia” and “The Seal of the Fortune Teller cannot be Broken.” Just arriving was a host of other political protesters who had decided to join the mob.
“Holy shit,” Hammerhead said as he drove up with only one other officer. He had no idea this would be waiting for him. He picked up his cell and called Dominick, “Do you have any idea what is waiting for me here at this convent? Why didn’t you tell me every cable news agency from here to LA to New York would be here?
“Get it over with. You know what you need to do. For once in your life act like a real cop,” Dominick said and hung up.
“I have a warrant for the arrest of Sophia Samos,” Hammerhead said looking up at a very tall nun.
“Officer, I am sorry, but I cannot allow you to arrest her. This is a place of sanctuary. She has asked for sanctuary, and we have granted her request. We will not willingly turn her over to you,” Sister Hildegard said stepping very close to Hammerhead who immediately backpedaled. He had attended Catholic schools and had a healthy fear of nuns.
He looked at the officer with him but was greeted with a blank stare and no help. Hammerhead was caught hesitating but felt he had no choice except to proceed. He could not back down with every camera and news reporter clicking away.
“I need to speak to your boss,” he said attempting to muster up a tone of authority. He had been taught to always move up the ladder in these situations.
“Only God is in charge of the order of the Sisters of Saint Anthony,” now a shorter nun was speaking.
“Yeah, Bishop Michael is not their boss,” injected Aunt Anna attempting to rise to her full munchkin height which only prompted a very stern look from the two nuns.
He turned to the other officer. “Call this, Bishop Michael. Get a hold of someone who knows something about this … sanctuary thing.” The other officer nodded obedience.
Just then the door to the convent opened, and Louie stepped out. He addressed the news cameras.
“I am Louis Fox, attorney for Sophia Samos. She has asked for and been granted sanctuary in this place of worship. The police cannot arrest her. She also is claiming privilege as a fortune teller. She cannot break the seal of a card reading any more than a priest can break the seal of the confessional.”
The news reporters and the crowd went crazy. Louie, Sister Hildegard, Sister Matilda and Aunt Anna held their ground.
Hammerhead began to sweat as he was slowly surrounded by news reporters, cameras, and the loud chanting of protesters singing songs he hadn’t heard since the sixties. A band had set up, and he recognized the song they were playing, Fortunate Son.
He turned around, and the singing was coming from a group of baby boomers dressed like hippies. “Who are those people?” he asked the other officer who was now humming along to the protest song with the crowd singing the lyrics of Fortunate Son. He stopped when Hammerhead grabbed him by the collar.
“A lot of them are residents of Pirate’s Cove. That condo where Sophia and her sister Anna live, sir,” the officer said.
“Crap,” he said. “Have you gotten a hold of that bishop?”
“Just his voicemail,” he answered. “It sounded like he was in Rome.”
“Let’s get out of here,” he said.
Hammerhead turned and said to the two nuns and the munchkin, “We will be back with a court order to arrest you three for obstruction of justice.”
Limo Louie started to say something, but Aunt Sophia stepped out the door of the convent. The crowd was quiet and watched Aunt Sophia as she walked straight up to Hammerhead. She was visibly taller than him.
“I am ready,” she said to Hammerhead. The second arresting officer started to put her in handcuffs but stopped cold when the crowd went crazy and started hollering, “No, Aunt Sophia. Don’t go!”
Aunt Sophia blew a kiss at the crowd then turned to Sister Hildegard, Sister Matilda, Louie, and Aunt Anna and winked at them and then proceeded to get into the police car.
“You can call MC now,” Aunt Anna said. “I hope this works.”
8
This time when I dropped my cell, Aunt Anna was not disconnected. I hollered for Velma.
“Aunt Sophia has been arrested for murder, and they are taking her to jail without offering her bail, like she is a dangerous criminal,” I said sitting in my old office waving my other arm in the air. Velma rushed in and said, “Have you looked on CNN?”
I shook my head.
Velma quickly came around and pulled up CNN on the laptop sitting on the desk, and Aunt Sophia was being led to a police car by Hammerhead. They watched as CNN was interviewing Aunt Anna and Louie. She saw what looked like all the Sisters of the Order of Saint Anthony and a huge crowd of protesters. She could hear protest music being played in the background.
“Aunt Anna, I’m heading down to the jailhouse in Boca Vista,” I said.
“Okay, got to go, CNN is here to interview me. I’m going to make sure the entire country knows what’s happening to my sister,” Aunt Anna said and hung up.
When I arrived at the sheriff’s office and jailhouse, I saw Hammerhead and walked right up to him and asked, “What is going on with my aunt?”
“We now have the autopsy reports and the toxicology reports. It confirms that Ivan was poisoned and that the poison was in the tea and tea leaves your Aunt used for the fortune teller reading.”
“She doesn’t use tea leaves in her readings, you numbskull,” I said. “She is a card reader.”
“It was Greek tea.”
“So? What if it had been Turkish coffee? Would you still have arrested her?”
Hammerhead looked at me and said, “I know you are upset, but it would be best if you remained calm. I’ll take you to speak to your aunt now.” As he did so, he reached for my elbow to show me the way and, at that moment, I saw something as clear as day.
I turned to him and said, “You’ve spoken to Big Pete’s son, Dominick Kosomov haven’t you?”
Hammerhead stopped dead in his tracks. He had heard the niece was psychic. In Chicago, they had used psychics for murder cases. He didn’t deny their ability. But, he hadn’t seen it first-hand.
“This way please,” he said as he looked out the front of the sheriff’s office and saw all the cable TV trucks pulling up. “Damn,” he said and rolled his eyes.
He led me back to where Aunt Sophia was sitting alone in a jail cell with her head bent and her hands folded in her lap. When I saw her, I felt rage boil over inside. If I had the strength, I would have r
ipped the bars off, grabbed Aunt Sophia, and walked her out.
“Aunt Sophia,” I said as I reached for the bars that separated me from my dear Greek aunt.
“Can you let me in, so I can talk to her?” I shouted.
“I am sorry I cannot. You are not her lawyer. But, I’ll leave you two alone so you can visit.”
As he started to turn, I blocked his path, looked down, and made direct eye contact with him. “You know my Aunt Sophia did not kill Ivan. You need to do your job and do it right, otherwise, they call you Hammerhead for nothing.”
Straining to become taller, he leaned toward me and said, “I promise you I will make sure your Aunt is safe and comfortable.” He looked at Aunt Sophia who was still sitting quietly. “I am sorry.” And then he turned and walked away.
“Aunt Sophia, I promise you I will do everything in my power to get you out of this mess. I’m calling Ernie and Louie right now to get you out on bail. You should be out of here within the hour, I said holding on to the bars.
“No, MC. You need to wait,” Aunt Sophia said as she got up and reached through the bars and held my hands.
At that moment, I knew something was up between my aunts and the feisty nuns.
“This is part of a plan, isn’t it? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“All in good time, my dear,” Aunt Sophia said. “The plan is working. Just wait. You will know what to do when the time is right.”
I felt my aunt’s grip tighten, “I am safe here. Hammerhead will make sure nothing happens to me. You need to be very careful. Listen to me because I cannot repeat these words. They are as close as I can speak without revealing what happened the night Ivan was killed. The Russian will come for you,” with that Aunt Sophia returned to sitting on the cot in the jail cell.
“Would you ask Mr. Hammerhead to bring me a comfortable chair,” Aunt Sophia said with a wink. “Get to work, MC.”
MC started to argue, but then she saw coming down the hallway Hammerhead and his deputy with a leather recliner. The deputy opened the cell, and he moved the recliner into the cell while MC and Aunt Sophia hugged.
“I told you I will keep her comfortable and safe,” Hammerhead said.
Lunch is on its way Ms. Sophia,” Hammerhead said.
“Call me Aunt Sophia,” she responded.
“Yes ma’am,” both officers said.
I left Aunt Sophia sitting in her new recliner, and as I headed out, I saw a flat screen TV coming in the door and lunch being delivered from a well-known restaurant in Boca Vista.
“Time to get to work,” I said, as I walked outside the sheriff’s office where I was immediately surrounded by news reporters.
9
I had just returned from a much-needed run/walk when my cell dinged.
Could you come by my house this afternoon? We need to talk, and you can visit with your goddaughter and see how she has grown.
The text was from my former client and friend, Jennifer Stone. Visiting her big house that sits facing the Atlantic Ocean, would be a welcome break from the events of yesterday and last night.
I quickly texted Jennifer back and told her I would be there in about an hour. BING-BING: Awesome, I’ll put out some wine to chill, the reply text read followed by a couple of happy face images, which I haven’t figured out how to do on my cell.
Before leaving, I called Hammerhead to check on Aunt Sophia, and he told me, “She is asleep. We brought a comfortable bed over from one of the Boca Vista hotels so she could have a good night’s rest. We moved things around and set her up in my office. Please ask Louie to call me so we can arrange bail.”
“She is safe right where she is, Sheriff. I think you know that,” I responded.
Hammerhead said, “Your friend Ernie also sent two military men over to stand guard over her. They are posted outside my office or, at least, what was my office,”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at this. “Thank you for allowing that,” I said.
Hammerhead said, “You’re welcome, and by the way, your Aunt Sophia had evidently made friends with several of the hookers who arrived in town with the reporters and protesters. After getting arrested, they wanted to meet your Aunt Sophia. Then those two nuns showed up, and it’s becoming a women’s power meeting down here. They showed up for a visit and then the nuns were interviewed by CBS and told a story about a Saint Magdalene who’d strangely enough started out as a hooker before becoming a nun. That Sister Matilda is quite the storyteller, but this has to stop. It’s costing the town of Boca Vista a lot of money we don’t have in the budget. The city council is not happy with either the expenses or the publicity. Please call Louie.”
“Will you drop the fake charges?” MC asked to silence on the other end.
“Okay, I’ll have Louie call you,” I said. Aunt Anna and I would get a much-needed laugh out of this.
* * * *
When I got to Jennifer’s mansion, I turned into the driveway, made my way down the long drive to the front of the mansion, and parked right behind her candy apple red Corvette convertible, which had its top down.
From the road, Jennifer’s mansion looks like a hotel because it’s the size of a hotel. My guess is that, if I lived there, I would need a GPS to find my way around the place.
I hurried up the steps of the mansion and was about to ring the doorbell when the door opened, and there stood Jennifer in all her glory.
“MC,” she said and gave me a big hug. “Come in. You need to catch me up on Aunt Sophia. The story was all over the news shows this morning. They interviewed the mayor who was throwing that new sheriff under the bus. No comment from him. He didn’t look happy. They are expecting the governor to make a statement. This is not good for tourism.”
Jennifer Stone was the richest woman in Fish Camp and maybe the state of Florida. She had been given the gifts of both beauty and brains at birth and used both to amass her fortune.
She had a head full of platinum blond hair that was always teased to perfection with plenty of hairspray to hold her sixties beehive in place.
Jennifer handed me a glass of wine and said, “Follow me. Penelope is asleep now. We’ll say hello to her after we talk.” Then she turned around and led me through the mansion until we eventually came out to an expansive lanai, which boasted an outdoor fireplace, comfortable seating, and a spectacular view of the Atlantic Ocean as far as you could see.
She had a childlike quality about her and, sometimes, even a naïveté. That always surprised me.
She never stopped looking in the rearview mirror. Afraid she would end up where she had started, in the hollows of the little town in Kentucky and dirt poor again.
She gave me another big hug before we sat, and I caught her up on Aunt Sophia.
Then Jennifer caught me up on her new married life and her role as a new mom. “I’ve never been happier MC, but I am still pursuing my dream of singing at the Grand Ole Opry.”
I smiled and said, “I’ll be there, whenever it is.”
“Here you go,” Jennifer handed me an envelope which I took from her, hesitatingly.
“It’s an invitation to a charitable fundraiser I am holding this weekend.”
The last thing I wanted to do now was to attend a social function where I would be faced with vast quantities of food, drink, and small-talk. I hate small-talk.
“Jennifer, I am sorry, but I don’t know if I can make the fundraiser with that murder rap they are trying to pin on Aunt Sophia. Plus, you don’t want news reporters stalking your fundraiser. Theo told me that reporters are even camped out and waiting for him to come off the Mary Catherine.”
“That’s why you need to attend this fundraiser. I put it together quickly. Velma, Rodeo, and your Aunt Anna are all attending, and so are Ernie and Sisters Hildegard and Matilda.”
I hesitated and then responded, “Okay, then I guess I did not get that memo. So, Ernie called, and you spoke?”
“Yes, it was his idea. I made sure I invited all the players connected to
this framing of Aunt Sophia. That includes Senator Roosevelt, Big Pete, and his son Dominick Kosomov.”
“Oh, wonderful,” I said sarcastically as I held my glass out for more wine.
“It’s all arranged. Louie will bring you, and he’ll be here as well.”
“Louie seems to be spending more time driving people around than being a lawyer lately,” I said.
“Ernie also told me to tell you that all you need to do is turn on your psychic juices and see what happens.”
“Wonderful,” I said.
“Do you have anything to wear?” Jennifer asked knowing full well the answer.
“No, I don’t have anything to wear. Let me guess, you are going to help me with that?”
“Is the pope catholic?” Jennifer laughed.
“Follow me. I’ve got just the perfect outfit. I called Aunt Anna for your size.” Of course, she did.
“Is it sleeveless and low-cut?” I was not born with Jennifer’s assets, and lately, gravity was taking over what I had been given.
“No it has sleeves, and the back is cut low, and it has a slit up the side. You’ll look great.”
“Split up? Which side?”
“Both, silly.”
I already knew I’d be out shopping for this party. Slits and low-cut gowns in the front or the back are not in my comfort zone. Too bad I’m not able to wear jeans, a casual top, and boat shoes to this gala.
Jennifer stopped for a moment and pointed at my feet, “Not heels,” I said as I rolled my eyes. Great, now we’ll have to visit the shoe store, too. The boat shoes won’t work.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got some that will fit you. Aunt Anna gave me your shoe size.” Of course, she did.
“I don’t think Aunt Anna knows my size, Jennifer. She was probably guessing at all this.”
“I’ve got a good eye. You should wear them beforehand, so you can break them in and get used to them. And don’t worry, I’ll have it all sent to your aunt’s condo, so you can try it all on first.”
