* * *
Late Friday afternoon, Sister Lou walked into the sheriff’s office. Sister Carmen hadn’t been happy about dropping her off, but had promised to return for her within the hour. She spotted deputies Fran Cole and Ted Tate deep in conversation in the bullpen. Sister Lou could count on one hand the number of times she’d been to the sheriff’s office during her more than six years in Briar Coast. She’d never had reason to seek out law enforcement.
“Good afternoon, Deputy Cole and Deputy Tate.” Sister Lou announced herself before arriving at their desks.
Ted looked up from his conversation with his partner. “What are you doing here, Sister?”
Sister Lou met his irritated gray eyes. It was some consolation that she was better at masking her reactions than he was. “I’d like an update on your investigation, please.”
“We’ll let you know when we’ve got something.” Ted turned back to his partner.
Sister Lou tightened her grip on the strap of her navy shoulder bag. It was getting harder to answer his rudeness with kindness. Was the effort worth it?
“Ted.” Fran Cole coupled her chiding tone with a scolding look. She shifted in her seat to face Sister Lou. “I apologize for my partner’s behavior, Sister.”
The apology would have had more weight coming from the offender. “I realize you’re both very busy. This is, after all, a homicide investigation. But have you made any progress?”
Ted gave her a curious look. “You’re more persistent than his widow. Why is that?”
I’d like the answer to that question, too. “You’ll have to ask Jessica. But could you tell me if you’ve made any progress.”
“It’s only been one day, Sister,” Fran said. “We’re still conducting interviews. There are more than sixty sisters, and we’re also interviewing the laity on your staff.”
“That’s one of the reasons I’m here, Deputy.” Sister Lou measured her words. “I believe you can skip the sisters who are in our assisted-living facilities.”
Ted’s heavy brown eyebrows knitted. “We’ll decide whether we need to speak with those sisters or not.”
How very thorough of him. “The sisters in assisted living aren’t ambulatory. Don’t you believe your time would be better spent investigating more viable suspects?”
“We’re also questioning the sisters for possible leads,” Fran said.
Leads? Were they following up on whether the sisters could implicate each other? Why were they so determined to fixate on the congregation?
Sister Lou looked from Fran to Ted, then back again. “We’re not the only ones who followed Maurice’s research, nor are we the only organization to invite him to speak at one of our events.”
Ted cocked his head. “Why don’t you want us to question your group?”
Fran sent her partner another glare before addressing Sister Lou. “Sister, we’re taking a methodical approach to this investigation. We want to explore every possible lead and angle.”
Sister Lou inclined her head coolly even as her agitation increased. “I appreciate your thoroughness, but perhaps you could prioritize the interviews a little differently.”
Ted snorted. “I didn’t know you were a homicide investigator as well as a nun, Sister.”
“I don’t mean to offend you, Deputy.” Even though that’s all you’ve been doing to me since we met.
Ted jerked his squared chin toward Fran. “How come everybody can do our job better than we can?”
That’s not something to be proud of. “Did Jess Jordan tell you about the faith groups that had been harassing Maurice because of his research?”
“No, she didn’t.” Fran glanced at Ted as though seeking confirmation from her partner.
Did you ask her? “Jess has a list of these groups. She said their members would call Maurice’s house even though his phone number isn’t listed.”
Fran arched a thin eyebrow. “We weren’t able to learn as much from the widow or her son.”
Ted’s grunt pulled Sister Lou from her thoughts. “So what?”
He was making it so hard for Sister Lou to work with him. It was as though he wanted her to circumvent the sheriff’s office. “This gives you more viable suspects, because I assure you again, deputy, no one in the congregation had anything to do with Maurice’s murder.”
“We’ll be the judge of that.” Ted shrugged his thick shoulders in a two-part motion, as though they were too heavy to move all at once.
Fran remained silent.
Sister Lou unclenched her teeth. “Thank you for your time.” She adjusted the strap of her navy purse on her shoulder as she turned to leave. While they sat in judgment over her congregation, the trail of the actual killer was growing cold. She would not allow Maurice’s murderer to go free.
* * *
“They refused to even consider another theory.” Sister Lou was still fuming the next morning over her unsuccessful meeting with the Briar Coast sheriff’s deputies. She summarized the exchange for Sister Carmen during their early-morning jog on Saturday. “The more I assure them of our innocence, the more they fixate on the congregation.”
“It’s been almost forty-eight hours since the crime.” Sister Carmen tugged on Sister Lou’s arm.
“Oh, I’m sorry. Am I speeding up again?”
“Yeah.” Sister Carmen nodded.
Sister Lou made a conscious effort to slow her pace. “Why is forty-eight hours significant?”
“In the police procedurals on TV, they’re always rushing to solve the case in the first forty-eight hours before leads go cold.”
Sister Lou blew a disgusted breath. “It’s been about forty-three hours, and they’re still questioning people who had nothing to do with the murder.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
They jogged in silence for awhile. The sun lifted higher in the sky, chasing away the morning dew. The birdsong accompanied their steps as they completed the first lap of the campus oval.
Sister Lou broke the companionable silence. “Marianna’s furious. And she has every right to be.”
“The interrogations aren’t pleasant.” Sister Carmen’s tone was dry. “They try to trip you up. You know you’re telling the truth but, by the end of the interrogation, you start to doubt yourself.”
“Meanwhile, a murderer is at large. Perhaps still in Briar Coast.” Sister Lou exchanged a nod of greeting with a group of students they passed on the unofficial jogging path. The seven or eight young women moved as a tight, synchronized group, as though they’d been running together for years.
Sister Lou loved jogging early in the morning. She could smell the grass that blanketed the campus and feel the early morning dew that coated the breeze. She liked watching the sunrise. Listening to the birdsong was a wonderful way to start her day. She enjoyed sharing this special time with Sister Carmen.
“Did you tell the deputies about the man who left Jessica’s house?” Sister Carmen’s question shattered her tranquility.
Sister Lou shook her head. “We’re just speculating on that. We don’t know whether Jessica’s having an affair, or if it’s a factor in Maurice’s murder. I don’t want to give the deputies unfounded suspicions.”
“Are you kidding?” Sister Carmen’s voice was breathless. “My suspicions are based on that kiss they shared in front of her house.”
“But is that motive?” Sister Lou didn’t want to believe Jessica would kill her husband simply because they’d grown apart.
“It’s something. And someone should look into it.”
“I will.” Sister Lou wasn’t looking forward to that confrontation with Jessica, but she needed to do it, if only to rule out Maurice’s widow as a suspect.
“Are you going to do your own investigation?”
Sister Lou sensed Sister Carmen’s surprise. “I told Chris that I’m going to work with the Telegraph reporter, Shari Henson, to investigate Maurice’s murder.”
Sister Carmen stumbled, and Sister Lou reached out to stead
y her.
“Thanks.” Sister Carmen continued their jog. “What did Chris say to that?”
“You know he wasn’t happy. But this is my decision.”
Sister Carmen gave a breathy chuckle. “Chris’s just worried about you.”
“I don’t stop him from making his own decisions. He shouldn’t try to stop me from making mine.”
“Ha! Letting him make his own decisions never stopped you from worrying about him.”
“That’s true. He says he’s going to help me.”
“Of course he will. That’s his way of protecting you—short of tying you up and locking you in the closet.”
“I know.”
“Just remind that overprotective nephew of yours that the will of God never takes you where the grace of God can’t protect you.”
“Amen.” Sister Lou wiped the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. “I’ll call Shari Monday morning to discuss our working together. I’d rather talk with Jess myself before going to the deputies.”
“Just as long as you tell me everything.”
“You know that I will.”
“And please be careful. You are investigating a murder.”
“Do I need to remind you of God’s grace and protection as well?” Sister Lou smiled at Sister Carmen as they started their third lap around the oval.
“Just tell me you won’t take unnecessary risks.” Tension shook Sister Carmen’s voice.
“I won’t. I promise.” I’m not worried about unnecessary risks. It’s the necessary ones that concern me.
Chapter 8
“Thank you for meeting with me this morning.” Sister Lou’s voice floated back to Shari as the reporter followed her hostess Monday morning.
“No problem.” Shari scanned the motherhouse’s reception area as they strode across it. The three-inch heels of her navy stilettos, the same color as her slacks, sank into the thick rose carpeting. “The Telegraph is a daily, so not everyone gets Labor Day off. Since I’m the newest member of the reporting staff, I get to keep the lights on today.”
Shari had been in the room before. Still, her fascinated gaze absorbed everything as she walked through: natural light, warm pastels, charming ceramics, fragrant flowers, leafy plants, and gleaming wood. The delicate floral furniture was inviting. The statuettes—sculpted metal, carved wood, and molded porcelain—were placed with care around the room. Framed paintings captured biblical scenes, some in color, some in black-and-white.
Shari adjusted the strap of her oversized brick-red handbag on her shoulder as she followed Sister Lou into a bright peach hallway. They stepped into the elevator, which carried them up to the residential floors.
Sister Lou stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened onto the third floor. “Chris is waiting for us in my apartment.”
That news wasn’t entirely unwelcomed. The sister’s nephew was a pleasure to look at even when his opinions set her off. She could have sworn he didn’t enjoy her company, either. So why was he here?
“You’re being very mysterious.” Shari accompanied Sister Lou down the wide, rose carpeted hallway. “What’s this about?”
Sister Lou stopped in front of one of the apartments. “We’d like to discuss partnering with you to find out who killed Maurice and why.” Her voice had thickened.
The announcement caught Shari by surprise. She hadn’t expected the stubborn college executive to change his mind. She watched Sister Lou unlock the apartment to let them inside.
The vivid colors beyond the door mesmerized Shari. She glanced at Sister Lou’s cream skirt suit, white blouse, and beige shoes, and compared them to the vibrant hues of her hostess’s home. She felt as though she was being reintroduced to the soft-spoken sister.
The apartment opened to a cozy sitting room. The walls were painted a warm yellow that seemed to dance against its surface. The matching overstuffed sofa, loveseat, and armchair were sky blue, accented with vibrant jewel-tone throw pillows and bold, abstract afghans. They circled a honey-wood coffee table. All of the pieces stood on a scarlet-and-gold patterned area rug. In the center of the table sat a bronze tea set with three cups and a matching plate of cookies.
Chris stood from the sofa as they entered. He looked so different. He’d left behind his suit and tie, which had given him a mantle of power and authority. Instead, he seemed relaxed and approachable in a bronze pullover and black jeans. Shari almost wished she’d met this Chris LaSalle first.
He stepped around the coffee table and offered her his hand. His onyx gaze was guarded, but she gave him points for making the effort to put her at ease. “Good morning. Thank you for coming.”
“Good morning to you. Thanks for inviting me.” Shari took his large, warm hand. He had the grip of a man without an idle bone in his body. She withdrew her hold before she was tempted to linger.
“Please, have a seat.” Sister Lou walked past them, crossing the area rug to settle into the armchair. “Would you like some tea?”
“Thank you.” Shari sat on the loveseat, setting her handbag beside her.
Chris returned to the sofa opposite her. He seemed comfortable helping his aunt serve the tea and cookies. Shari accepted her cup and plate with a thank-you. Serving refreshments was a great idea. There was something so hospitable about the gesture. Maybe she should suggest refreshments for the Telegraph’s editorial meetings.
Shari took a sip of the tea. She hadn’t anticipated the sharp taste. She felt like she was sucking on a cinnamon stick. “What type of tea is this?”
“It’s chai.” Chris settled back onto the sofa with his own cup of tea but no cookies.
It must be an acquired taste. Shari set down her mug, then looked at Sister Lou. “I’m glad you’ve changed your mind about helping me look into Dr. Jordan’s murder. I think your insights will be very helpful.”
“Aunt Lou and I are both willing to work with you.” Chris’s tone didn’t entertain negotiations. Obviously, he still didn’t trust her. What was his problem?
“That’s fine. The more the merrier.” Shari shifted her attention back to Sister Lou. “Do you have any theories about Dr. Jordan’s murder?”
Sister Lou gave her a contemplative look as she sipped her tea. “What brought you to Briar Coast?”
Warning: Non sequitur ahead. Shari glanced at Chris. He seemed to be patiently waiting for her response as well.
Shari considered Sister Lou, puzzling at the depths masked by her seemingly unassuming exterior. Still waters could indeed run deep. “Is this some sort of test I have to pass to get into the Cool Kids Club?”
“Of course not.” Her hostess sipped her tea instead of elaborating.
Shari was even more confused. “Then what does your question have to do with anything?”
“I like to get to know the people I’m partnering with.” Sister Lou selected a cookie from the tray. “Aren’t you curious about us?”
Now that she mentioned it . . . “Actually, I am.”
“Good.” Sister Lou flashed an encouraging smile that caused warm lights to twinkle in her dark eyes. “You first. What brought you to our town?”
“A job.” That’s all Shari had intended to say, but Sister Lou’s quiet attention drew more details from her. “Newspapers are downsizing all over the country. Some of my former coworkers are changing careers, but I wanted to stay in newspapers. This position with the Telegraph seemed as good a job as any.” Until about one month into the job, when her editor—aka the Scarecrow from The Wizard of Oz—forbade her from reporting the news.
How insane is that?
“Why journalism?” Chris asked.
Do I detect distain in his tone? “It’s the newspaper’s duty to print the news and raise hell.” Shari quoted Wilbur F. Storey, editor of the then-Chicago Times, from the late nineteenth century. “Why fund-raising?”
“I didn’t go into fund-raising. I went into education. ‘Education is the most powerful weapon that you can use to change the world.’”
“That’s the value of getting to know one another.” Sister Lou leaned forward to refill her teacup. “More tea?”
“No, thank you.” Shari glanced at her still half-full cup on the whimsical honey wood coffee table. “Does that mean you’re willing to share your theories about your friend’s murder now?”
“I don’t have any theories on who killed Mo, or why.” Sister Lou reached for Chris’s cup. “But I’ve given some thought as to how we could approach our inquiry.”
“We have to make it more efficient than the deputies’ process.” Chris accepted his refilled cup from his aunt.
“That wouldn’t be hard to do.” Shari’s tone was dry. She watched with fascination as Chris started his second cup of the weird tea. “They seem to have it in for the congregation.”
“Chris, could you pass me that tablet and pen?” Sister Lou gestured toward the corner table, a smaller version of the coffee table. A writing tablet and pen lay beside the burnt umber telephone. How long had it taken her to find a phone that color?
“I can take notes, Sister Lou.” Shari pulled a pen and steno pad from her oversized, brick-red handbag.
“Thank you, dear.” She gave Shari a grateful smile. “We have to narrow our scope.”
Shari bit into a chocolate chip cookie. Delicious. “We should look at his wife. And doesn’t he have a son?”
Sister Lou seemed to hesitate. “Why?”
“On those true crime shows, family members always top the suspect list.” Shari clicked her black ballpoint pen. “Spouses, siblings, kids. They have the most to gain. How much was your friend worth?”
“He was a theology professor at a small, liberal arts university.” Chris put his empty cup on the tea tray.
Shari tracked his movements. He’d finished a second cup. Maybe she should give this chai tea thing another chance. “He also was a multi-published author and an in-demand guest speaker.”
“Mo inherited a great deal of money from his family. He was a faithful donor to the congregation and the college.” Sister Lou seemed lost in thought.
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