Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  “The money could be the motive.” Shari felt a surge of excitement. “Do the deputies realize that?”

  Sister Lou interrupted Shari’s flood of words. “There are other people outside of his family that we should consider. Jess said several of Mo’s critics had harassed him at home. She also said he’d had a conflict with his business partner.”

  “Did he have a lot of critics?” Shari chose an oatmeal raisin cookie this time.

  “Unfortunately, yes.” A cloud of sadness passed over Sister Lou’s heart-shaped face.

  “Have the deputies questioned any of them, or his partner?” Chris’s voice was gentle, probably in deference to his aunt.

  Shari matched Chris’s caring tone. “For now, they’re only looking at the sisters.”

  Sister Lou shifted on her armchair. “We should also ask his business partner, Kevin Appleby, about their contract. Jess told Carmen and me that Mo was disputing it.”

  Shari made notes to look into Maurice’s critics and his partner, and to ask about the contract dispute. “I’m free to meet with him first thing in the morning.”

  Chris held up one large hand, palm out. “We can’t charge into this. We need a plan.”

  “We need to get in touch with Mo’s critics.” Sister Lou still seemed discomforted. “Maybe even his supporters. His wife . . . widow . . . is putting a list together.”

  Shari bit into her cookie. “Let’s ask his widow about them, and what she thought about being married to a lightning rod of controversy.”

  Sister Lou seemed to stiffen. “Right now, the most compelling theory appears to be Mo’s controversial theology presentations.”

  Why did Sister Lou get cagey every time she brought up questioning the Jordan family? “This is the second time you’ve changed the subject from Doctor Jordan’s family, Sister Lou. What’s going on?”

  Sister Lou hesitated. “I’m going to speak with Jess alone.”

  “I thought we were partners, a team.” Shari jerked her head toward Chris. “Is he going with you?”

  Sister Lou lowered the bronze porcelain teacup to her lap, covered by her cream mid-calf skirt. “I want to ask Jess about a very private matter. I’m not certain she’ll want to discuss it with me in private, much less when others are around. Out of courtesy, I’m the only one going.”

  Chris looked comfortable with that arrangement. “I understand, Aunt Lou.”

  Shari had her reservations. “Why does it have to be a private conversation? Did Dr. Jordan have a secret baby or something?”

  Sister Lou’s eyes twinkled as though the idea of her friend having children outside of marriage was hilarious. “I promise to tell you everything that I can about my meeting with Jess afterward. But for now, this should be a quiet conversation between two old acquaintances.”

  Shari noticed that Sister Lou didn’t refer to herself and Dr. Jordan’s widow as friends. “All right. But promise me that these ‘quiet conversations’ won’t become a habit.”

  “I promise.” Sister Lou smiled. “Trust me.”

  Shari smiled as she stood to leave. “Trust a sister? I think I can do that.”

  Chris stood with her. Chivalry must be part of his DNA, because Shari was sure he still didn’t like her.

  Sister Lou rose as well. “Are you attending Mo’s wake tomorrow night?”

  Shari shrugged her brick-red handbag onto her shoulder. “I think I should.”

  Sister Lou inclined her head toward her nephew. “Chris and I are going. Would you care to join us? It will be a good opportunity for us to observe at least some of the people who knew Mo. Perhaps we can even catch them in an unguarded moment.”

  Chris shoved his large hands into his front pockets. “Don’t get your hopes up, Aunt Lou. This investigation’s going to take a while, especially since none of us knows what we’re doing.”

  “We can’t do a worse job than the deputies.” Shari turned back to Sister Lou. “Thanks for the invite. I’d like to join you.”

  “Good.” Sister Lou folded her hands in front of her. “Chris and I will pick you up tomorrow evening around five-thirty.”

  “Great.” Shari glanced at Chris before returning her attention to his aunt. “On our way to the wake, you can tell us what Jessica Jordan said.”

  Sister Lou’s smile was serenity itself. “I’ll share as much of it as I can.”

  Shari frowned. She hoped she wouldn’t be disappointed.

  Chapter 9

  Jessica Jordan held her front door open for Sister Lou late Labor Day morning. She was somber in a slim black skirt, gray silk blouse, and low-heeled black shoes.

  “Since you’re here, I have that list of Maurice’s devotees and detractors for you.” Maurice’s widow locked the door before handing Sister Lou a folded sheet of stationery.

  “Thank you.” Sister Lou glanced at the list. It had two columns, one labeled DEVOTEES and the other DETRACTORS. Sister Lou refolded the paper, tucking it into her purse.

  She couldn’t mask her disappointment. Jessica may have fallen out of love with her husband before his death, but he was the father of her child. It had been four days since Sister Lou had asked for that list. Didn’t Jessica want to know who killed her husband, and why?

  Maurice’s widow had never liked her. At first, Sister Lou thought Jessica was jealous of her relationship with Maurice. But even after Sister Lou had taken her vows, Jessica remained cool to her. That’s another reason she’d stopped visiting Maurice.

  Sister Lou followed her hostess into the living room. This time, she’d prepared herself for the angry décor. “I’m glad you were able to see me on such short notice.”

  “You said it was important.”

  Sister Lou made herself as comfortable as possible on the sofa. “It’s also very personal.”

  Jessica settled onto the armchair. “What is it?”

  There was no way to ease into this, so Sister Lou jumped in with both legs. “How long have you been having an affair?”

  “Excuse me?” All of the color leeched from Jessica’s milky complexion. “What are you accusing me of?”

  “Carm and I saw you kissing a man in your doorway Friday.” Sister Lou’s eyes never wavered from Jessica’s angry blue gaze. “He was leaving as we drove up to your house. Who is he?”

  Jessica’s mouth opened but she didn’t make a sound. She quickly recovered. “Emmett Wagner. I met him at the gym where I work out. He’s just a friend. He came over to console me.”

  “Jess, please don’t insult my intelligence.” Sister Lou held on to her patience. “We both know that neither your embrace nor the kiss the two of you shared were platonic. How long have you been seeing each other?”

  Jessica hesitated, as though wondering whether she could push her luck. In the end, wisdom prevailed. “It’s been a few months now.”

  “Months?” Sister Lou’s shoulders rose and fell with a short sigh of disappointment. “Did Maurice know?”

  “Of course not.” Jessica waved her arms in disgust. “He was rarely home. And when he was, he never noticed anything. Not me, not Nestor, not this house. Nothing.”

  Sister Lou scrutinized the violent colors of the living room’s décor. “Is that why you decided to redecorate?”

  Jessica stiffened on her chair. “Maybe I should have married you, Lou. You’re much more observant than Maurice ever was.”

  Sister Lou closed her eyes as a snippet from her last conversation with Maurice played in her mind. She heard his voice as though they were back in that hotel restaurant, seated across the table from each other. I’m just tired. My travels have taken a toll not just on me, but on my family.

  She reopened her eyes. Oh, Mo, why didn’t I know you were in so much pain?

  Sister Lou cleared the emotion from her throat. “I think you’re wrong, Jess. Maurice knew you were having an affair.”

  “How do you know? Did he tell you?” She sounded so dismissive, as though she really didn’t care.

  “If he wasn
’t sure, he at least suspected.” Sister Lou watched Jessica closely. “How serious is your lover about your relationship?” Does he also consider you to be just a friend with benefits?

  Jessica shifted on her armchair. “Neither of us is serious at all. It’s a very casual relationship.”

  Sister Lou wanted to shake Jessica. There was nothing nonchalant about their kiss.

  “Was he capable of hurting Mo?” She didn’t breathe as she waited for Jessica to answer her question.

  “No, of course not.” Jessica sounded shocked. “Emmett is a kind and gentle person. He wouldn’t hurt anyone, much less kill them.”

  Sister Lou hoped Jessica was correct about her lover being as innocent as a newly baptized baby. “What do you know about Maurice’s research?”

  “Nothing. Why? Do you think it’s why he was killed?”

  “That’s what I hope to find out.” She stood to leave. “Thank you for answering my questions, Jess, and for the list of Maurice’s devotees and detractors.”

  Jessica rose from her armchair, smoothing the linen material of her knee-length skirt. “You’re welcome.”

  Sister Lou paused. “I’d like to ask you just one more question, please. Does Nestor know about your relationship with Emmett?”

  “Of course not.” Jessica didn’t sound as confident this time.

  “When was the last time you saw Nestor?”

  Jessica’s eyes widened with realization. “I haven’t seen him since I told him that . . . that his father had been killed.”

  Sister Lou had feared that. Her heart was heavy with regret. She could only imagine how Jessica must feel. “You may want to find out what Nestor does and doesn’t know. It could explain why you haven’t seen much of him lately.”

  “I’ve called him, but I just assumed he needed time alone.”

  “You need time together. You have a lot to talk about, a lot to deal with.” Sister Lou turned to leave.

  “Lou, was I so wrong to try to grab a little happiness for myself?”

  She turned back to Jessica. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  Sister Lou let herself out of Maurice’s house. His widow’s extramarital affair was a source of regret both for Maurice and, now, Jessica. It also seemed to have caused a rift between her and her son.

  Was it the motive behind Maurice’s murder? To find out, she’d need to speak with Emmett.

  Chapter 10

  Sister Lou spotted Shari waiting for her in The Briar Coast Telegraph’s rear parking lot Tuesday morning. She abruptly stopped singing along with her car’s compact disc player. It was so lovely to have her driver’s license back.

  She waved at Shari through the front windshield of her compact car before coming to a stop in front of her. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  “No, we’re both early.” Shari folded herself into the passenger seat. “May I turn down the music? I might be able to hear you better.”

  “I hadn’t realized how loud it was.” Sister Lou leaned forward to lower the volume on Tim Bowman Jr.’s “I’m Good.”

  “That’s OK.” Shari appeared to be struggling against a grin. She secured her seatbelt. “I’ve never heard a gospel song played so loudly before. That volume level is usually associated with heavy metal and rap groups.”

  “Do you listen to a lot of gospel music?” Sister Lou put her car in gear and drove out of the parking lot. She enjoyed the reporter’s good-natured banter. The teasing and the music were distracting her from brooding thoughts over their upcoming interview with Kevin Appleby, Maurice’s business partner.

  “Not me. One of my foster mothers used to listen to gospel music all of the time, but she had the volume turned so low that we could barely hear it. And she’d whisper-sing with it. You’d think that we weren’t good enough to hear it or something.” The memory appeared to amuse Shari.

  One of her foster mothers? “How many foster homes did you live in?”

  Silence greeted Sister Lou’s question. She knew Shari had heard her. She’d turned down the volume on her compact disc player. This must be a topic too painful for her companion to discuss. Concerned, Sister Lou was trying to think of a new subject of conversation when Shari responded.

  “I survived six foster homes. The fourth one had the religious fanatics.” She spoke without emotion. “They didn’t represent your beliefs very well, Sister Lou, I’ll tell you that. But I knew you were different when you prayed for me without expecting anything in return.”

  Sister Lou heard the surprise in Shari’s voice. Without taking her eyes from the modest traffic, she reached over to cup her right palm over Shari’s hands, which were fisted on her lap. “So tell me, what was wrong with the chai tea yesterday?”

  Shari’s voice bounced with startled laughter. “That’s quite a dramatic change of subject.”

  Sister Lou grimaced. “It’s the best I could come up with on short notice.”

  Sister Lou kept their conversation casual for the rest of their short drive to Kevin Appleby’s office. Spreading the Word Productions, the company Maurice was going to go into partnership with, was in a quiet residential neighborhood near the edge of Briar Coast. The converted Cape Cod stood on the corner of the block. The parking lot it shared with other businesses was in the back off of a long driveway. As they turned down the alley, Sister Lou noticed the curving walkway leading to the front door was framed by two small, well-manicured lawns with evergreen shrubs and fading rosebushes.

  Sister Lou parked and climbed from her car, then pressed the keypad to secure the door locks. A gentle breeze glided across the parking lot, carrying the last scents of summer. It combed through her hair and ruffled the trees that shaded most of the lot.

  Sister Lou stepped away from her car.

  “Wait!” The fear and urgency were sharp in Shari’s exclamation.

  Sister Lou froze in place. She watched as a black car sped past her, pulling into a nearby parking space. If she’d taken even one step, the car would have hit her.

  “Are you OK?” Shari took Sister Lou’s arm. Her cocoa-brown eyes were wide with fear as they searched her face.

  “Yes, thanks to you.” Sister Lou stared at the ebony luxury car that had almost hit her. It screamed money with its sporty body and shiny surface.

  “And I thought you drove fast.”

  “What?” Sister Lou looked at Shari, who was glaring at the other car.

  “Never mind.” Shari held on to Sister Lou’s upper arm as though she feared her companion would disappear if she released her. Sister Lou turned toward the company’s rear entrance, but Shari tightened her grip. “We’re not leaving until you get an apology.”

  The driver of the luxury coupe finally emerged from her car. She was a curvy middle-aged woman of average height with salon-processed honey-blond hair and brown eyes. Shari marched toward her, tugging Sister Lou in her wake.

  “Did you make a clean getaway?” Shari’s voice was sharp with residual anger, probably caused by fear. Sister Lou would make allowances.

  “Excuse me?” The hapless driver appeared confused as she looked from Shari to Sister Lou, then back. Her confusion seemed feigned.

  Shari nodded toward the parking lot’s entrance. “The way you came speeding into the lot, I thought either the hounds of hell or law enforcement were after you. Which one was it?”

  The driver’s eyebrows furrowed as she continued to pretend to be confused. “I wasn’t being chased.”

  “No?” Now it was Shari’s turn to act surprised. “Well, you almost made my friend part of the pavement.”

  “Oh.” The stranger turned her brown eyes to Sister Lou. “I’m sorry. Usually there aren’t any people in the parking lot.”

  “Well, this is a parking lot, not to be confused with a freeway.” Shari’s fingers dug into Sister Lou’s arm through her blazer’s pale gray sleeve. That was going to leave a bruise—or five.

  Sister Lou was impressed, and a little amused, by the way the reporter was t
aking the careless driver to task. If she’d been on her own, Sister Lou would have walked away. If Shari had been on her own, the driver may have been collecting her teeth from the asphalt.

  “I said I was sorry.” The stranger crossed her arms and angled her chin in a shaky display of bravado. “What more do you want?”

  Shari gave the other woman a dismissive look, then turned to Sister Lou. “Is that good enough for you?”

  Sister Lou schooled her features to mask her surprise. “Yes, thank you.” She inclined her head toward the driver. “Thank you. Now, if you could take us to see Kevin Appleby, we’d appreciate it.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” The woman gave Sister Lou a puzzled look.

  “We don’t.” Shari’s response was blunt.

  “Then I’m afraid you can’t meet with Mr. Appleby today.” The stranger’s brown eyes gleamed with satisfaction as they met Shari’s gaze. “He’s very busy. Would you like to make an appointment for another day?”

  Shari smiled as though the woman was a slow learner. “He’ll make time for us.” She gestured toward Sister Lou. “This is Sister Louise LaSalle. She was a good friend of Mr. Appleby’s late partner, Doctor Maurice Jordan.”

  “Sister Lou.” The reckless driver offered Sister Lou her hand. Her petulance disappeared behind a smile. “I’m Beatrix Thorne, the office manager for Spreading the Word Productions. Maurice talked about you all the time. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

  “And I’m sorry for yours.” Sister Lou shook Beatrix’s hand. She was disconcerted by the change in her demeanor.

  “Thank you. Come with me.” Beatrix led the way around the building to the front door.

  Shari fell into step beside Sister Lou. She leaned in closer to whisper. “How did you know she worked for Appleby?”

  Sister Lou smiled. “She said the parking lot’s usually empty. She must be familiar with the lot because she works here.”

  “Impressive deduction, Holmes.” Shari smiled as she referenced the Sir Arthur Conan Doyle character.

  “You’re pretty impressive yourself.” Sister Lou squeezed Shari’s shoulder as they followed Beatrix along the winding path to the front entrance. “Thanks for saving me and standing up for me back there.”