Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  “Sharelle Henson. I’m with The Briar Coast Telegraph.”

  Emmett stabbed Sister Lou with an accusatory glare. “You brought the media?”

  “No, just one reporter.” Shari surveyed the lobby. “Where can we talk?”

  “I’m not giving you an interview.” Emmett crossed his arms over his broad chest. “I just want to know if Jess is OK.”

  Sister Lou lifted her gaze from Emmett’s name badge, which identified him as the assistant facilities manager. “Yes, Emmett, she’s fine. But we need to talk.”

  “Leave and don’t come back.” Emmett turned to walk away.

  “Stay and clear your name.” Shari’s invitation stopped him.

  Emmett changed direction, walking past them. “This way.”

  Sister Lou followed him down a wide hallway. The textured white walls seemed to absorb the fluorescent lighting. Beside her, Shari’s green stilettos, a perfect match for her slim slacks, tapped an impatient beat against the gray-patterned linoleum.

  Emmett’s steps were silent in his designer running shoes, but his stiff posture and jerky gait roared with anger. It spun like a spirit orb around him and propelled him toward the side exit. As he shoved open the black metal door to step outside, the sunlight glinted on the wide silver band of his Movado wristwatch.

  Shari surveyed the collection of guest vehicles standing in the near distance. “If I’d known we’d end up back in the parking lot, I wouldn’t have worried about finding a space.”

  Emmett gave her a dismissive look before shifting his scowl to Sister Lou. “I had nothing to do with Maurice’s murder.”

  “How long has Jess been giving you money from Maurice’s bank account?” Sister Lou ignored Shari’s surprise as she watched for Emmett’s reaction.

  Blood drained from his face. That quickly, Emmett’s anger morphed into panic. It was clear in the widening of his small gray eyes and the parting of his wide thin lips. “Did Jess tell you?”

  “You just did.” Sister Lou didn’t mask her disgust. “The expensive suit you wore to Maurice’s wake last night. The luxury watch on your wrist. You can’t afford them on an assistant facilities manager’s salary, and especially not with your alimony and child support payments.”

  “It was Jess’s idea. At first, I didn’t know it was Maurice’s money.” Emmett’s comment wasn’t worth responding to.

  “You took money that belonged to Maurice.” Sister Lou struggled to hold on to her temper. “I’m sure you can comprehend why your actions make you a suspect in his murder.”

  Emmett took a step toward her. “I didn’t kill Maurice.”

  Shari moved closer to Sister Lou. Her body language was protective. “Where were you the night of August thirtieth?”

  “He was with me.” Jessica’s voice vibrated with anger as she joined the fray in the parking lot.

  “How did you know we were out here?” Shari’s voice rose in amazement.

  In contrast, Sister Lou was too angry to have room for any other emotion. She pinned Jessica with a look of fury and scorn. “You stole money from Maurice for your lover? Why, Jess?”

  Jessica stood straighter in her skinny black tank and hot pink and black yoga pants. Righteousness seeped from her pores. “I didn’t steal it. We were married. That money belonged to both of us.”

  Shari lifted her index finger. “Isn’t there a clause that makes it theft when you give it to your lover?” Her tone was a nod to the ridiculousness of Jessica’s defense.

  Sister Lou saw red. “That money was Maurice’s inheritance from his parents.”

  Jessica crossed her thin arms over her chest. “He didn’t miss it.”

  Sister Lou heard Maurice’s voice again in her memory, I’ll be able to spend more time with my family—and on my finances.

  “Yes, he did.” Sister Lou looked from Emmett’s panicked expression to Jess’s stubborn features. “You wanted him to keep traveling around the globe, leaving you in charge of his finances. What you didn’t realize is that your game with his bank account was the primary reason he decided to stop traveling—that and his love for you and Nestor.”

  Jess actually sneered. “It took him long enough to realize he had a family.”

  Shari arched an eyebrow. “I’m sorry, but did you tell him he was on the clock?”

  A soft breeze waved a stray lock of hair against Sister Lou’s cheek. She brushed it back with shaking fingertips as she considered her friend’s widow.

  “You and Emmett had a great deal to lose with Maurice at home.” Sister Lou paused to let her words have an effect. “If you didn’t murder Maurice for his money, don’t you want to know whether your lover did?”

  Emmett shook his head. “I told you—”

  “I trust Emmett.” Jessica angled her chin.

  Was it that Jessica had changed so much—and so quickly—or was it that Sister Lou really hadn’t known the other woman at all? “You may not have loved Maurice toward the end, but he was still your husband and the father of your child.”

  Jessica threw up her arms. “What about Kevin Appleby? Are you looking this closely into his motives? He had a lot more of them at stake than Emmett did, getting a few bucks from me now and then.”

  Emmett rejoined the discussion. “Why are you even questioning anyone’s motives? You’re not the police.”

  Shari frowned at him. “We’re concerned citizens.”

  Jessica’s irritation seemed on the verge of boiling over. “Why do you care so much?”

  “Why don’t you care more?” Sister Lou matched her antagonist’s frustration.

  Her staring contest with Jessica continued for several seconds as Sister Lou wondered how the widow could care so little about her husband’s murder.

  Shari broke the angry silence. “We’ve spoken with Maurice’s business partner. Your guy has a much more compelling reason. Did you know he’s paying alimony to three ex-wives and child support to seven children?”

  Jessica’s shocked expression as she turned to Emmett was answer enough.

  Sister Lou sighed. “What are you afraid of, Jess? Why don’t you just ask Emmett?”

  A moment went by, then another. “I don’t have to. I know he’s innocent.” Jessica scowled at Sister Lou. “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

  Sister Lou watched Jessica and Emmett disappear behind the exercise facility’s black metal door.

  “Well, we’re two for two.” Shari’s comment cut the tense silence. “We’re getting really good at being kicked out of places.”

  Sister Lou started walking around the building to Shari’s car, parked toward the middle of the lot. She didn’t mind leaving and wouldn’t mind never coming back. She had so many emotions churning through her: anger, grief, sorrow, regret. More anger. And fear.

  What will I do if I never find Maurice’s killer? Could I handle that?

  She was pretty certain the answer was no.

  Sister Lou quickened her stride, trying to outpace her anxiety again. “You were right about Emmett meeting with us. Good thinking to use Jess to draw him out.”

  “Thanks, but I’m still wondering how you knew Emmett and Jess were stealing from Maurice.”

  “You said he was paying alimony to three ex-wives and child support for seven children.” Sister Lou rounded the corner of the facility. She spotted Shari’s car in the distance. “According to his name badge, he’s an assistant facilities manager. I doubt he’s making a great deal of money. How did he afford a new suit for his lover’s husband’s funeral, the expensive watch on his wrist, and those designer sneakers?”

  “I’m impressed, Sister Sherlock.” Shari sounded more amused than impressed.

  “Thanks, but we still need to find definitive evidence that either proves his guilt or innocence.” Sister Lou waited for Shari to unlock her sage green sedan.

  “Linking him to the murder weapon—once we learn what that was—would prove his guilt.” Shari settled behind the steering wheel. “What would prove hi
s innocence?”

  Sister Lou buckled her seatbelt. “Identifying someone else as the killer.”

  Chapter 15

  “Where were you this morning?” Perry stopped at the entrance to Shari’s cubicle at the Telegraph’s office before noon Wednesday.

  Shari saved the computer file she was using for her notes and impressions from her investigation with Sister Lou. After their exchange this morning with Jessica Jordan and Emmett Wagner, she had a lot to write.

  She spun her wheeled desk chair to face Perry, gritting her teeth as the accursed thing squeaked as though possessed.

  Her boss stood in the threshold of her cubicle, looking as though he’d been run over by his day, and it was barely halfway over. His thinning brown hair stood on end as though he’d been pulling at it all morning. His white shirt and dark brown pants were rumpled and stained with newsprint.

  “I met with one of the sisters from the congregation. We’ve been discussing the investigation into Doctor Jordan’s murder.”

  Perry’s expression changed from mild curiosity to marked displeasure. “Why?”

  Why? What kind of question was that for a newspaper editor to ask?

  Shari blinked at her boss. “We want Doctor Jordan’s killer to be caught, the sooner the better. It’s been almost a week, but the deputies aren’t any closer to finding a viable suspect.”

  “And investigating crimes is their job, not yours.” Perry’s condescending tone worked on Shari’s nerves. She wanted to tape his mouth shut.

  “Actually, Perry, right now we’re not doing either the deputies’ job or our own.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Irritation was heavy in Perry’s voice.

  “You’re a newspaper editor. Why are you pretending not to know what I’m talking about?”

  “Listen, Hen—”

  “We owe it to our readers to keep them informed of events that occur in our community and affect all of us.” Shari resented having to lecture her boss on basic newspaper principles like a Journalism 101 instructor.

  “That’s what we do with every edition of this newspaper.” Perry swept his open palm through the burnt-coffee laden air.

  “Seriously?” Shari’s eyes widened. “Then why did you pull my story on Doctor Jordan’s murder?”

  “It would’ve caused a panic. People need to feel safe in their community. You want to tell them that a killer is running around the streets?”

  Shari rose to her feet, ready to go toe-to-toe with her boss. “I want my neighbors to have the information they need to keep themselves safe, and to keep me safe.”

  Perry barked a laugh. “If we’d gone with your story on Jordan, your neighbors wouldn’t’ve felt safe. They would’ve packed up and moved out of Briar Coast in droves.”

  Shari arched an eyebrow at Perry’s hyperbole. “Even if that happened—which it wouldn’t—that’s their right.”

  “We have to protect Briar Coast.”

  “We have to report the truth. You’re lying by omission.”

  Perry pinned her with an aggressive stare. His words were deliberate. “Your job’s to cover community events. I’m not telling you again. Do not investigate Jordan’s murder. If you do, you won’t have a job. Got it?” He paused, perhaps for an answer. “Do you?”

  Shari unclenched her teeth to respond. “Of course.”

  “Good. Don’t forget to cover the senior crafts show this afternoon.” With that final order, Perry left Shari’s cubicle.

  Shari was more disturbed by her encounter with Perry than she wanted to admit. How had she ended up working for an editor who bullies his reporters, buries his head in the sand, and lies to his readers? That must be some sort of evil trifecta.

  She sank onto her squeal-and-wheel chair, crossing her arms under her chest and glaring at her computer monitor. She hadn’t gone into journalism to avoid controversies. She needed to write articles that made a difference. Unlike Perry, her truth didn’t have gray areas.

  “Do you want out?” Diego’s question penetrated her darkness.

  Shari turned her chair around again, clenching her teeth at the metal’s protest. Diego was asking if she wanted to back out of their plan to publish her investigation of Dr. Jordan’s murder.

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” There was concern in the news editor’s coffee eyes. “Whatever you decide, I’ll have your back.”

  Diego’s mahogany and silver hair was perfect. His maroon shirt and black tie looked fresh and crisp, as though it was only seven in the morning instead of almost noon. The crease in his black slacks was sharp enough to peel potatoes.

  Shari stood, ignoring her chair’s noisy accompaniment. “I said I’m not giving up. I’ll ask for forgiveness before I worry about permission. What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Don’t you have a family?”

  Diego’s concern shifted to confusion. “Why are you asking?”

  “Your family’s taking this risk with you. What happens if our gamble doesn’t pay off? Who’ll have your back?” Shari lived alone. Whatever decisions she made—quitting her job, moving to a new state, starting over—she bore the risks on her own. Someone like Diego probably had responsibilities: a wife, one-point-eight-seven children, and a dog.

  A slight smile curved his lips. “I don’t go looking for fights, Shari, but I don’t run from them, either.”

  “We have that in common, then.”

  Approval glinted in Diego’s eyes. He nodded once before leaving.

  Shari dropped back onto her querulous seat. Could she and Diego really get the news story into the paper? Would it generate enough reader support to convince Perry to turn the Telegraph back into a real newspaper, or had he done too much damage to its reputation?

  Shari’s stomach growled. Time to switch gears to lunch and answers to a different set of questions: Did Chris LaSalle dislike all reporters or just her, and why?

  She didn’t want whatever personal or professional animosity he harbored for her to strain her relationship with Sister Lou. She really liked the Catholic sister, which was surprising considering her own background.

  Shari was determined to take Sister Lou’s advice to confront her nephew again. Would he answer her questions this time? There was only one way to find out. She lifted her telephone receiver and tapped in his phone number.

  * * *

  “Should I call you Nancy Drew or Miss Marple?” Sister Carmen made herself comfortable on one of the powder blue guest chairs facing Sister Lou’s mahogany desk.

  “Let’s stay with Lou.” Sister Lou glanced at her crimson banded wristwatch. Was it already noon?

  “When I didn’t see you in the lobby, I knew you’d lost track of the time.”

  “You’re five minutes early.” Sister Lou smiled at her friend’s gentle teasing. She saved the computer file she’d been working on and pushed away from her desk.

  “And who did I learn that obsession from?” Sister Carmen stood and crossed to the office door. “If you’re not five minutes early, you’re late.”

  “That doesn’t sound anything like me.” Sister Lou circled her desk to follow her friend into the hallway.

  “Yes, it does.”

  “I’m sorry, Carm. This day has turned into a whirlwind.”

  It was the first Wednesday of September. Hopefully, the rest of the week would be more reasonable. She was still catching her breath from the confrontation she and Shari had with Jessica and Emmett this morning.

  “This sounds like more than the outreach planning.” Sister Carmen fell into step beside Sister Lou. “Is it your investigation?”

  As she walked with Sister Carmen from the congregational offices to the motherhouse dining room for lunch, Sister Lou briefed her friend on the morning’s revelations. “Jess had always taken care of the family’s finances. Maurice said she was better with the math and the details.”

  “What a pity that she wasn’t as good with his trust.” Sister Carme
n sounded as disgusted by Jessica’s betrayal as Sister Lou felt. “It’s great that Shari could learn all those things about Emmett, and that you were able to put everything together so quickly.”

  “Not that quickly.”

  “If you’d made the connection at the wake, you probably would have ripped the suit from Emmett’s back.”

  “Mo was my friend. Jess and Emmett treated him poorly.” Sister Lou examined the dishes in today’s buffet line in the dining hall.

  The bowl of tossed green salad was colorfully accented with red Roma tomatoes, crisp orange carrots, and slivers of yellow and red peppers. The spices wafting toward her from the platter of grilled chicken made her mouth water.

  “It seems that you and Shari are working well together.” Sister Carmen transferred modest amounts of the buffet selection onto her white porcelain plate. She followed Sister Lou, sliding her maroon meal tray along the silver metal tubular slides.

  “I appreciate her enthusiasm for the investigation.” Sister Lou added asparagus spears to her plate. “I think it’s more than just a story to her.”

  “Good.” Sister Carmen also selected asparagus. “I saw her with Chris at the wake. How does he feel about her working with you?”

  Sister Lou debated the whole wheat rolls as she considered her answer. In the end, she rejected the rolls. “Chris’s past experience with the media is influencing the way he sees Shari.”

  “I was afraid of that.” Sister Carmen plucked a roll from the basket. “Hopefully, getting to know Shari will help him get past his resentment and heal completely.”

  Sister Lou stopped at the beverage area for a glass of cold water. She waited for Sister Carmen to get her drink before leading the way into the dining room. The room hummed with lively conversation. The tables were already full. She paused to greet several groups of sisters as she scanned the room for a more isolated table where she and Sister Carmen could have a private conversation.

  Sister Lou made her way to a circular table tucked into a back corner. “Since he’s helping us with the investigation, they’ll have plenty of time to spend together.”

  Sister Carmen’s coffee eyes widened. “They’ll either learn to get along or do each other in.”