“We can arrange that.” Sister Lou smiled with pleasure. “It’s great to have more press coverage for the congregation and our events. Thank you.”
Sister Carmen offered Sister Lou a glass of iced tea and a mini cupcake. “Now that we know who killed Maurice, the healing process can truly begin.”
“I hope so.” Sister Lou worked to silence the troubled voice in the back of her head—the one that insisted the case wasn’t closed.
Of course it was. They’d found the murder weapon: the bear sculpture that the Sleep Ease Inn Hotel put in each of its rooms. They had the motive: embezzlement. Then why did the resolution seem almost as rushed as a bad television movie mystery script?
What am I missing?
Chris squeezed Sister Lou’s shoulder. “At least you can slow down a bit now that the investigation is over. I’m sure there were times you wished you were two people.”
Sister Lou’s attention snapped toward Chris. “Two people?”
Her nephew looked startled. “Yes. You were so busy between your obligations to the congregation and trying to find Maurice’s murderer, I’m sure there were times when you wanted a clone.”
Sister Lou’s eyes widened as conversations and images came together in her mind. “Come with me.”
Chris looked at Sister Carmen and Shari. “Who?”
“All of you.” She turned to hurry out of the event room.
“Where are we going?” Sister Carmen’s voice was right behind her.
“To my office.” Sister Lou made her way across the floor, weaving around the sisters who were dancing to the Yolanda Adams song.
Sister Katharine Wen caught Sister Lou’s arm as she tried to weave past her. Her cheeks were flushed and damp from dancing. Behind her pink-rimmed glasses, her ebony eyes sparkled. “Are you leaving your own party?”
“I’ll be right back.” Probably.
“Well, congratulations, Lou.” Sister Katharine gave her a tight hug. “I’m glad you decided to stay on the leadership team.”
Sister Lou was startled and touched by the gesture. She gave Sister Katharine a grateful smile before continuing out of the room.
Shari caught up with her. “What’s going on, Sister Lou?”
“I need your help to find out, but the email . . . that’s the key.” Sister Lou led the way through an exit that took them to an underground passageway that connected the motherhouse to the congregational offices.
“What email?” Shari sounded even more confused.
Sister Lou didn’t blame the reporter. It was confusing. That’s why she needed their help. “You’ll see.”
The passageway wasn’t long. After all, the motherhouse and the congregational offices weren’t far apart. Although it was underground, it was a bright and cheery space. It was as wide as her living room and lit with fluorescent bulbs.
“Sister Lou, why is this beautiful artwork hidden down here?” Shari gestured toward the pale walls that displayed dozens of vibrant, original artworks: paintings, wall hangings, and mounted sculptures.
“It’s not hidden.” Sister Lou followed the winding passage. “You’re seeing it now, which reminds me, I really should give you a tour one day.”
Sister Lou glanced at the artwork as she hurried past. Some had been donated; others had been created by members of the congregation who used their art to express their love for God.
At the other end of the passageway, Sister Lou glanced back to make sure her team was still with her. Sister Carmen’s, Chris’s, and Shari’s expressions were puzzled, but patient. Once again, Sister Lou was grateful for their unwavering support.
She pressed the handle and crossed the threshold into the Congregation of St. Hermione of Ephesus’s official offices. Her private office was a short distance down the hallway. Her associates followed her into the room and waited while she fished the printout of the email from her top drawer.
“Here it is.” Sister Lou joined them on their side of the desk. She laid the email on the desk’s oak surface so they could all see it. “This is the email Goodwin Barrow brought to me. He said Kevin had sent it to him.” She pointed to the top of the sheet of paper. “Here’s the sender’s name and email address. That’s Kevin’s information. Over here is the date and time the email arrived in Goodwin’s inbox.”
Sister Carmen studied the printout. “OK, what do you need us to help you figure out?”
Sister Lou straightened away from her desk and faced the group. “How was Kevin able to send an email two days after he died?”
Chapter 34
“Thank you all for joining us this evening.” Sister Lou stood at the head of the large table in the congregational office’s main conference room on Saturday evening. “I know this is very last minute and inconvenient, but it’s also very important.”
Seated around the table were six of the original suspects that she, Chris, and Shari had included on their list: Maurice’s widow, Jessica; his son, Nestor; his widow’s lover, Emmett Wagner; his colleague, Dr. Justin Carr; his professional rival, Goodwin Barrow; and his self-proclaimed biggest fan, Wanda McClane. Unfortunately, Maurice’s business partner, Kevin Appleby, was dead, but Kevin’s administrative assistant, Beatrix Thorne, had joined them.
Sister Lou also had invited Deputy Fran Cole and Deputy Ted Tate. They leaned against the Caravan desk in the rear of the room. She was amazed they’d agreed to come. Ted had brought his surliness. Fran’s expression was inscrutable.
Standing with Sister Lou in front of the room were Sister Carmen, Chris, and Shari. She drew confidence from their presence.
Ted crossed his arms. “What’s this new information you have about Appleby’s death?”
Sister Lou ignored his glare. “Kevin Appleby didn’t fall down the stairs in his house. He was pushed.”
Ted’s expression morphed from surprise to amusement. “So in addition to being a sister and a detective, you’re also a psychic? You’re a jack-of-all-trades and a master of one.”
“That’s one more than you.” Shari’s expression was a study in serenity.
Sister Lou bit the insides of her cheeks to keep from smiling. She’d expected Ted’s personal attack. He was numbingly predictable. But she was still learning how to handle him. In the meantime, she welcomed Shari’s assistance.
Ted glared at the reporter. “Excuse me?” He pitched his voice above the muted chuckles and coughs that rose around the table.
Sister Lou slipped Shari a grateful look. “I’m not psychic, Deputy Tate. I don’t need to be.”
Ted turned his glare on her. “Then what makes you think Appleby didn’t just fall down the stairs?”
Chris gave Ted an icy glare from across the room. “I called the Briar Coast County Coroner’s Office. The chief coroner is an alumna of the college. She’s also a regular donor to both the college and the congregation.”
“And?” Ted prompted.
Sister Lou answered. “The angle in which Kevin’s body came to rest and the fatal injuries he sustained aren’t consistent with an accidental fall. They’re more consistent with a force like a push.”
Fran’s green gaze bounced from Sister Lou to Chris. “Why would the coroner give you the results of her examination before us?”
Sister Lou arched an eyebrow at Ted. “The coroner completed her examination immediately as a favor to the congregation. She said she’d sent a copy of the report to Deputy Tate.”
All eyes shifted to Ted. The deputy returned the numerous stares with a defensive glare. “I’ve been backed up.”
Fran gave him an irritated look. “If it’s not too much trouble, could you make it a priority for the morning, or would you rather keep getting scooped by a nun?”
“Sister.” Shari offered the correction.
Ted glared at Shari. His expression darkened when she responded with another serene smile. “All right, I’ll play along. Who shoved him?”
Sister Lou looked around the table. “We believe the person who killed Maurice also k
illed Kevin. Then days later sent Goodwin an email about me and planted a threatening note in my mailbox.”
Fran blew a breath. “That’s one very busy person.”
“Who was it?” Ted gave Sister Lou a challenging look.
Sister Lou again looked around the table. “It’s someone seated in this room.”
A chorus of complaints responded.
“What?”
“How dare you?”
“You’re accusing one of us of being a murderer?”
“I’m leaving. I don’t have to sit here and take this.” That last was from Goodwin Barrow as he shoved away from the table and rose to leave.
Fran straightened away from the Caravan desk. “Mister Barrow, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay with us to hear what the sister has to say.”
The room quieted. Goodwin narrowed his eyes at the deputy. “I have much more important things to do than to sit here and be slandered.”
Ted straightened to stand beside Fran, dwarfing both his partner and the conservative theologian. “Sit down, buddy. This’ll go a lot faster if we play along with the good sister.”
Sister Lou was surprised at how smoothly Ted managed the situation. The grumpy deputy wasn’t as predictable as she’d thought.
After a brief hesitation, Goodwin took his seat. “Make this quick.”
Goodwin’s manner didn’t put off Sister Lou. She hadn’t expected this group to give her accolades or present her with roses. Justice was all she needed.
Sister Lou folded her hands at her hips. “Wanda was right when she said we had to ask the right question. But you thought the right question was who stood to benefit from Maurice’s death, right?”
“That’s right.” Wanda gave Sister Lou a cautious look.
“I disagree.” Sister Lou looked at each person seated around the table before returning her attention to Wanda. “I don’t think that’s the right question at all.”
“Why not?” Beatrix was seated on the right side of the conference table beside Wanda. She’d twisted her honey-blond hair into a knot on the crown of her head. Her cream blouse made her look a bit washed out. “It’s as good a question to start with as any.”
Sister Lou gestured toward Jessica. “If it was the right question, then Jess would have been the obvious suspect.”
“Lou!” Jessica’s jaw dropped in shock.
“Let me finish.” Sister Lou held out both hands. “You weren’t interested in ending your marriage. You enjoyed being the wife of a theologian and university professor who was well-known and well-liked in the community.”
In her mind, Sister Lou saw scenes from Maurice’s wake. She’d sensed that, even in her grief, Jessica had enjoyed the attention of university administrators and prominent members of the Buffalo diocese.
Jessica shifted uncomfortably on her seat. “Maurice didn’t love me anymore, either. He cared more about his work.”
“No, he didn’t.” Sister Lou wanted to shake the other woman. Was that Jessica’s way of rationalizing her cheating?
“This is a waste of time.” Goodwin pressed his hands flat against the blond-wood conference table. “What makes you qualified to investigate a homicide?”
The better question is why are people so opposed to my looking for Maurice’s killer?
“Don’t worry, Goodwin. I’ll get to you in a moment.” Sister Lou turned to Emmett. “Maurice’s death would only benefit you, Emmett, if you had any intention of marrying Jessica. Since you admitted to being a serial cheater, I’ve ruled you out.”
“What?” Jessica’s face went up in flames. She aimed her wrath at Emmett. “A serial cheater? What does she mean? Are you sleeping with other women?”
The irony wasn’t lost on Sister Lou. Jessica, the cheater, was being cheated on. “Jess, you and Emmett can discuss that later.”
“What about me, Sister Lou?” Nestor’s quiet question commanded attention. “Would my motive be that I hated my father?”
Sister Lou saw the torture in the depths of Nestor’s gray eyes, so like his father’s. “It might be—if you hated your father. But you didn’t, did you, Nestor? You were disappointed in him.”
“Isn’t that also a motive for murder?” Nestor sat across the table from Jessica and Emmett. He hadn’t arrived with them, though, nor had he looked at them the entire time they’d been in the room. Was Nestor ashamed of what he’d done—or what they were doing?
Was he looking for penance? That wasn’t something she could help him with. “You didn’t kill your father, Nestor. We both know that.”
Nestor cocked his head. “How do you know?”
Sister Lou glanced at Emmett, allowing scenes from Maurice’s wake to slide across her mind. She paused on the image of Nestor confronting Emmett during the wake. “You wouldn’t have attacked your father from behind. You would have faced him.”
Sister Lou said a quick, silent prayer that Nestor would soon forgive himself for not reconciling with his father before Maurice’s untimely death.
Then she switched her attention to Justin. “On the surface, it appears that his colleague, Doctor Justin Carr, would benefit from Maurice’s sudden passing.”
Justin first gave Sister Lou an uneasy look, then shared it with the rest of the group. “I liked and admired Maurice. I wasn’t envious of him. He didn’t have anything I wanted.”
“I know.” For that, Sister Lou would always be grateful to Justin. “You also weren’t interested in the business arrangement that Maurice had had with Spreading the Word Productions.”
Beatrix cleared her throat. “Kevin was anxious to sign you after Maurice died.”
“That contract was a scam.” Justin glared at Beatrix, the sole Spreading the Word Productions representative.
“That’s what you’d said.” Sister Lou paced back and forth in front of the large conference table. “And that’s why you turned down Kevin Appleby when he approached you about taking Maurice’s place.”
Sister Lou turned to Wanda. “That’s why I don’t think the right question was who would have benefited from Maurice’s death. No one would have. I think he was killed for another reason.”
“Like what?” Fran leaned back against the Caravan desk again and folded her arms. “Revenge?”
“Perhaps.” Sister Lou spoke thoughtfully. “That motive would bring Goodwin into the picture.”
Goodwin’s features twisted with anger. “I told you that I didn’t kill Maurice. Good grief, woman, are you deaf? How many times do I have to repeat myself?”
Sister Lou maintained her calm even in the face of Goodwin’s pending meltdown. “You wouldn’t have killed Maurice because every hero has to have a villain, Goodwin. Superman has Lex Luthor. Batman has the Joker. Maurice had you.”
Ted sighed. “You’re using comic book analogies? That’s what you’ve got?”
Sister Lou once again ignored the deputy’s histrionics and addressed Goodwin. “Maurice was highly regarded in his field. You actually benefited more with Maurice alive, to compare and contrast yourself to, Maurice being the liberal theologian and you the conservative one. But since Maurice’s death, you’ve been struggling to get lecture presentation bookings, haven’t you?”
Goodwin’s glare could be licensed as a deadly weapon. “Things will pick up.”
Sister Lou wasn’t convinced of that. For his sake, she hoped that they did.
Fran gestured toward Goodwin. “Batman wouldn’t kill the Joker, but the Joker was always plotting to kill Batman. In fact, didn’t the Joker kill one of the Robins?”
“That’s right, the Jason Todd Robin.” Sister Lou frowned at the memory. “But there’s also a physical reason Goodwin couldn’t have called killed Maurice.”
Fran shrugged. “What’s that?”
Goodwin glowered at Sister Lou. “Don’t talk about me in the third person. I’m sitting right here.”
“I’m sorry.” Sister Lou gestured toward Goodwin’s hands. “You have arthritis. You wouldn’t have been able t
o generate enough force for a killing blow to the back of Maurice’s head.”
Fran’s eyes dropped to Goodwin’s hands, lying flat on the blond-wood conference table. “Good observation.”
Shari grinned. “Sister Lou has had a ton of them.”
“Thank you.” Sister Lou smiled her appreciation of both women’s words.
“All right.” Fran jerked her head toward Wanda. “What do you have on her?”
Wanda’s hazel eyes bulged. “Me? I’d never hurt Doctor Jordan, much less kill him.”
Ted gaped at Fran. “You’re buying this?”
Fran shrugged. “If you’ve got something better to do, do it. I want to hear what Sister Lou has to say.”
Fran’s words went a long way toward helping Sister Lou relax. She’d never done anything like this before. She wasn’t even sure that she was doing it correctly.
Standing beside her, Sister Carmen gave Sister Lou an encouraging smile.
Inhale. Exhale. Sister Lou looked at those gathered around the table. “So who benefits?”
“Obviously, Kevin did.” Beatrix’s smile invited others to share her perspective. “He was driving the business into the ground.”
Sister Lou turned to her. “Doesn’t that strike you as a little strange? He was mismanaging the company’s finances, but his personal accounts were strained and his credit rating was low.” She checked the expressions of the people in the room to make sure they were understanding her. “What was he doing with the money?”
“Maybe he hid it in dummy accounts.” Wanda crossed her arms over her chest.
Sister Lou shook her head. “We would have seen some indication that he was spending above his means—expensive vacations, luxury cars, a country club membership. But we checked. He never went anywhere, and his car is twelve years old.”
Jessica leaned forward. “So what are you saying, Lou? That just because you can’t trace the money, you don’t think he killed my husband?”
Ted grunted. “A sister, a detective, a psychic, and now we can add forensic accountant.”
Wanda sent a sly look toward Beatrix, who was seated beside her. “I still think it was Goodwin.”
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