Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  Chris was determined to protect his aunt from Shari’s influence. “If not for you, she never would have considered this.”

  He glanced around the lobby to make sure they weren’t drawing attention. His gaze paused to check the hallway. His aunt remained deep in conversation with the man in the shadows.

  Who was he?

  “You’re acting like I’ve kidnapped her.” Shari’s silver earrings swung as she shook her head. “I haven’t. Your aunt is free to walk away from this whenever she wants to.”

  “Then prove it.” Chris’s eyes moved from her upswept hair, back to her glowering eyes. “Tell her to walk away from the investigation.”

  “Me?” Shari chuckled as she pressed her hand to her chest. “If your aunt wouldn’t listen to you, what makes you think she’d pay any attention to me?”

  It bothered Chris more than it should, but he did think his aunt would listen to the reporter before she’d heed his advice, at least in this situation. “It’s worth a try.”

  “No.” Shari shook her head, setting her long silver earrings in motion again. “My motivation for this investigation is my career. You’re right. But your aunt has a motive as well. She wants to know who killed her friend, and why.”

  Chris’s temper stirred again. “We keep referring to this as an ‘investigation.’ This isn’t a simple investigation. We aren’t trying to determine the best way to make cheese. We’re looking for a murderer, someone who has killed before and who could very well kill again.”

  “Your aunt knows that.”

  “It’s too dangerous.” Chris fisted his hands at his sides, struggling to hold onto his calm.

  “She knows about the danger. Now ask yourself, if someone had killed one of your best friends, wouldn’t you want to know who, and why?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then why are you denying your aunt the same privilege?”

  Chris didn’t have an answer. He could only stare back at Shari as their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Her heart-shaped face was expressionless, but he could read the emotions in her eyes: anger, confusion, and disappointment. The disappointment bothered him most.

  How could he be wrong to want to protect his aunt? She was the only living relative he had. If Shari wouldn’t help him keep her safe, Chris would have to find another way.

  * * *

  It was Sister Lou’s turn to rock backward from surprise. “How did you know your mother was having an affair?”

  She hated what Jessica was doing, and it broke her heart that Jessica’s son was aware of her betrayal. Who did he blame? Jessica, Maurice, Emmett Wagner—or all of the above?

  “Come on, Sister Lou.” Nestor turned back to her in the dim hallway. “I’m not six anymore. I’m twenty-nine, almost thirty. I know when a man and a woman are just friends, and when they’re not. For God’s sake, she brought him to my father’s wake.” His voice rose in anger at the end.

  “He’s here?” Sister Lou felt the cold wash of shock.

  Nestor threw an arm in the direction of the room in which his father’s mourners had gathered. “Why do you think I’m out here instead of in there with my father’s . . . with my father?”

  “Do you think your father knew about the affair?”

  That brought Nestor up short. His eyes iced over. “Are you accusing my mother of killing my father?”

  “Absolutely not.” Are you?

  “Good.” The young man nodded in a short, jerky motion. But he wouldn’t meet her eyes.

  “Can you think of anyone your father had argued with, or someone who had a grudge against him?”

  “Not my mother.” Nestor shrugged a shoulder. “But I can’t vouch for her lover.”

  “Did your father know Emmett Wagner?”

  “I don’t think my mother would’ve introduced them.” Nestor’s voice cracked with sarcasm.

  “Did your father ever go to the gym?”

  “I don’t know what Dad did and didn’t do.” Regret deepened Nestor’s voice.

  Maurice wouldn’t have allowed someone into his hotel room unless he knew—and trusted—him. Who had Maurice’s trust, but still wanted him dead?

  Nestor straightened from the wall. “I should join my mother. Thanks for coming, Sister Lou.”

  Sister Lou placed a hand on Nestor’s shoulder. “I’ll say a prayer for you.”

  Nestor nodded before he left. Sister Lou took a moment to digest what Nestor had said—and what he hadn’t said. Regret was a demon to live with. She said a short prayer of comfort for her friend’s son before returning to the wake. She spotted the deputies at the edge of the lobby, away from the mourners mingling in the room. They must have been watching her for a while.

  Sister Lou crossed to them. “Good evening, Deputy Cole, Deputy Tate. Have you come to pay your respects?”

  “Yes, but we’re also on the clock.” Fran Cole’s blue blouse and gray pantsuit were large on her. Had the deputy recently lost weight?

  In contrast, Ted Tate’s brown suit was snug on his burly frame. “Killers often attend their victims’ funerals.”

  Sister Lou scanned the crowd. “Are you looking into someone in particular?”

  Ted shot her a look. “We’re looking at everyone.”

  They were back to that again.

  From this angle of the room, Sister Lou could see who everyone was talking with, and what everyone was doing. No wonder the deputies chose this corner for their observation point.

  She found Kevin Appleby in the crowd. He looked suitably somber and grief stricken. He’d proven himself to have a formidable temper, though. For that reason, Maurice’s business partner remained on her list of suspects.

  Sister Lou identified the woman with Kevin as Jessica Jordan. The two appeared amicable, although Sister Lou was certain Jessica harbored a great ill will against Maurice’s former partner.

  What were they talking about?

  “Is something wrong, Sister?” Fran asked.

  Sister Lou cleared her expression. She wasn’t prepared to share her thoughts with the deputies. “I wish I knew more of the people who’d come to Maurice’s wake.”

  “A bunch of your sisters are here.” Ted’s tone put Sister Lou on the defensive. “Does the congregation usually attend strangers’ funerals in large numbers?”

  “Maurice wasn’t a stranger to these sisters. He was my friend. They’re here to support me.” Sister Lou gave the deputy a considering look. He couldn’t accept that the congregation’s members were innocent. Why? “For how many years did you attend Catholic school, deputy?”

  Ted’s brown suit seemed to tighten as he drew a deeper breath. “How did you know I went to Catholic school?”

  Was he seriously asking? “You seem to be holding a grudge against sisters in general. “I assure you that we aren’t your enemy.”

  A disgruntled expression settled on his face. “It’s not personal, Sister. It’s our job to follow every lead.”

  No matter how ridiculous? How is that working out for you?

  Sister Lou turned her attention to Fran. “How’s your investigation progressing?”

  “We’ve eliminated the members of your congregation as suspects,” Fran admitted.

  I told you so. “Do you have any other leads?”

  “We don’t need you micromanaging our case, Sister.” Ted flushed at the chiding look Fran gave him. He softened his tone. “We know what we’re doing. We’ll let you know when one of our leads pans out.”

  “Do you have multiple leads?” Sister Lou’s pulse picked up. Now they were getting somewhere.

  “Sister, let us do our job.” Fran’s earnest reaction was a stark contrast to Ted’s autocratic manner.

  “Yeah, you don’t see us ministering to the sick.” Ted shifted his balance, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Perhaps you should.” Such an act of corporeal mercy would help teach the grumpy detective humility and compassion. “Excuse me. I’m going to pay my respects to Maurice’s
widow.”

  She didn’t wait for the deputies’ response. They were probably happy to see the back of her. Sister Lou walked toward the other mourners. Justin Carr, Maurice’s former colleague, stood with a small group toward the edge of the crowd. Did they also work for the university in Buffalo? Sister Lou had never met Justin, but Maurice had spoken of him, and she’d read his work in theology journals. His photo always accompanied his articles.

  Sister Lou hesitated when she saw Goodwin Barrow with Justin’s group. Goodwin was a conservative theologian who often was at odds with Maurice. She recognized him from photos she’d seen on the Internet and in theology publications. His shock of gray hair contrasted with his youthful face.

  What was he doing here? Was he lost?

  As she watched, Goodwin turned to leave. His movements were hesitant, almost pained.

  Sister Lou continued on her course to intercept Kevin Appleby. Her approach drew his attention. She saw the moment Kevin recognized her. Judging by his glowering expression and rigid jawline, the owner of Spreading the Word Productions hadn’t yet forgiven or forgotten their previous meeting.

  Still, Sister Lou gifted him with a gracious smile before interrupting his conversation. “Excuse me.”

  The woman with Kevin wasn’t Jessica.

  Beatrix Thorne, Kevin’s office manager, turned to Sister Lou. Her brown eyes brightened with pleasure. “Hello again, Sister Lou.”

  Sister Lou blinked at the other woman. From the back, she reminded Sister Lou of Jessica. Now that Beatrix faced her, she realized the office manager was too short and too curvy.

  Sister Lou managed a smile. “Hello, Beatrix. How nice of you to come.” What an odd comment to make. “Did you and Maurice have many of the same acquaintances?”

  Beatrix’s bright brown eyes darkened. “Dr. Jordan was very special. We’ll all miss him.”

  “Yes, we will.” Sister Lou switched her attention to Kevin. “What will happen with the production of your instructional DVDs now that Maurice is gone?”

  Kevin seemed reluctant to respond. After their encounter this morning, Sister Lou understood his peevish reaction. It must be maddening not to be able to order her to leave.

  “I’ll have to find another theologian.” Kevin shrugged a shoulder under his slate gray suit jacket.

  Beatrix’s eyes stretched wide with surprise. “You’re going to continue with it?”

  “Of course.” Kevin barely spared his assistant a glance. “The show must go on. It’ll be hard, though. Maurice was one of the best in this region—”

  “He was the best.” Beatrix’s contradiction was insistent.

  This time, Kevin ignored her interruption. “But there are other experts I’m considering for the project.”

  Could competition have been the motive for Maurice’s murder? “Who’s on your list?”

  “I’d rather not say.” Kevin shoved his hands into the front pockets of his matching suit pants. “I haven’t even approached him yet.”

  Sister Lou followed the angle of Kevin’s gaze and found Justin Carr at the end of it. Maurice’s former colleague was a good choice. He was a solid academic, although not as well known as Maurice. He was also much more traditional in his thinking and not as open to different perspectives.

  What would Maurice say about the possibility of Justin replacing him? He’d probably wish the other man well. Maurice hadn’t seemed to consider the production venture the highlight of his career. He was doing it to spend more time with his family.

  Would the venture be more meaningful for Justin? Is it a project he’d kill for?

  “I look forward to hearing who you’ve found to work with.” Sister Lou prepared to leave.

  “There isn’t anyone qualified to fill Dr. Jordan’s shoes.” Beatrix sounded adamant.

  Sister Lou agreed. As Beatrix had said, her friend had been the best. “I apologize again for interrupting.”

  She moved away from the couple before scanning the room for Chris and Shari. Her companions appeared deep in conversation. Judging by Chris’s tense expression, it wasn’t a pleasant exchange. What were they arguing about this time? They were both adults. They’d work out whatever it was without her. Hopefully, sooner rather than later.

  Sister Lou crossed into the viewing room. This area was even more crowded than the lobby. A quick inspection revealed that there weren’t any available chairs. There was barely room to stand without getting in other people’s way.

  The disturbance at the back of the room drew Sister Lou’s attention. Pushing past Sister Lou as though he either didn’t see or recognize her, Nestor marched toward the front row where his mother sat. Sister Lou followed close behind him.

  He stopped in front of the man seated beside his mother. “Get out.”

  Nestor had pitched his voice low. His words were unsteady. Sister Lou moved closer to the confrontation. Waves of tension vibrated from Maurice’s son. His fists were clenched at his sides.

  Was that Emmett Wagner seated beside Jessica? Nestor had said Jessica’s lover was here. By “here,” Sister Lou hadn’t imagined that Emmett had taken a seat beside the newly widowed woman.

  Oh, boy.

  Sister Lou hadn’t gotten a good look at Jessica’s lover that day he’d kissed her on the porch. All she had was an impression of someone who was above average height, perhaps more than six feet tall, with impressive physical fitness and perfect hair.

  It was hard to match the man in the black suit and tie sitting beside Jessica to her vague memory of the man Jessica had kissed in her doorway the day after Maurice’s murder.

  Ted’s comment replayed in her mind as a sly observation, Killers often attend their victims’ funerals.

  Is that why Emmett Wagner was here?

  Emmett glanced at Jessica before rising to his feet. “I’m sorry for your loss.” His voice was deep and smooth, like an opera singer.

  Nestor’s chest rose and fell with rapid breaths. “Get. Out. Now.”

  Emmett looked confused. He glanced at Jessica again, then extended a hand toward Nestor. “I’m Em—”

  Nestor slapped aside the older man’s hand. “I know who you are. I want you to leave.” His voice rose. “Now!”

  Sister Lou stepped forward. She took hold of Emmett’s arm to lead him from the room. “Let’s go.”

  “But—” Emmett looked at Jessica as though seeking her intervention.

  Jessica shook her head. Her gesture was small and almost imperceptible. Perhaps it was more important for her to make a good impression on the dignitaries at Maurice’s wake than it was for her to have her lover seated beside her.

  “I’m Sister Louise LaSalle.” Sister Lou introduced herself as she guided Emmett through the crowd to the rear of the room. It’s where he should have been standing.

  What had Jess been thinking? Had she been thinking?

  “Emmett Wagner.” He offered Sister Lou his hand.

  She shook his hand briefly, then released it. “I thought I recognized you, Mr. Wagner.”

  He gave her a charmingly obtuse smile. “Have we met?”

  “No, we missed each other by a few minutes.” Sister Lou paused to study him. “I went to Jessica’s house the day after Maurice’s murder. You were just leaving.”

  Confusion. Surprise. Embarrassment. Discomfort. The emotions chased each other across Emmett’s rugged features in rapid succession. “You have me confused with someone else, Sister.”

  “No, I don’t. Jess told me about you.”

  Emmett’s gray eyes widened in surprise. His lips moved like a fish out of water. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He spun on his heels and hastened from the room.

  Sister Lou followed close behind him. She kept her eyes glued to the back of his black suit jacket as he strode across the lobby toward the funeral home’s front door. As he quickened his steps, so did she.

  Emotions she hadn’t known she’d been harboring since Maurice’s murder and Jessica’s confession about
her lover clawed their way up from her gut. This homewrecker had chosen to carry on an affair for months with the wife of one of her best friends.

  Sister Lou also had to face the possibility that Emmett Wagner may have been responsible for her friend’s murder.

  A blast of cool evening air slapped Sister Lou’s face as Emmett rushed through the door. She ignored it. “You knew she was married. What were you thinking? That if she didn’t leave her husband, you’d get rid of him yourself?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Emmett never stopped moving. He wouldn’t face her. Instead, he trotted down the funeral home’s front steps.

  Sister Lou stayed on his heels. With a desperate effort, she stretched forward, capturing a fistful of Emmett’s jacket, and hung on. She forced him to face her or lose his clothing. He chose the former.

  “Maybe I do have the wrong man. But maybe I don’t.” She struggled to keep her voice low as they stood on the sidewalk. “How did you convince him to let you into his hotel room?”

  Emmett glanced behind her. His expression darkened before he yanked his coat from her fist and stormed toward the funeral home’s parking lot.

  Sister Lou glared after Emmett for a heartbeat before turning back to the building. Surprise stopped her in her tracks. Chris and Shari stood near the top of the staircase. The sheriff’s deputies, Ted and Fran, watched from the doorway.

  Perfect.

  Chapter 13

  Sister Lou returned to the viewing room. She nodded at people she knew and those she barely recognized as she made her way to the front, where Nestor sat beside his mother. He glanced at Sister Lou before returning to his contemplation of his father’s casket. His grief and regret were visible to everyone. This time, she heeded his invisible, stay-away-from-me signals.

  Sister Lou breathed past her heartache for her friend and his son before greeting Jessica’s sisters and brothers-in-law. The couples filled the front seats on either side of Nestor and Jessica. Sister Lou had met them a few times when Maurice and Jessica had hosted their family’s holiday get-togethers. Maurice was an only child, and he’d lost both parents after graduate school. He’d liked Jessica’s family, and they’d welcomed him like a brother. They were warm, easygoing people. Sister Lou had no idea how they could be related to Jessica since she was their polar opposite.