Alibis & Angels

by Olivia Matthews

  “What is going on, Louise?” Sister Marianna marched right up to Sister Lou’s desk Friday morning. It was barely eight o’clock.

  Sister Lou looked away from her personal computer monitor and up at her uninvited guest. She resisted the urge to roll her executive chair out of harm’s way. Instead, she forced a bright smile to her lips and a cheerful lilt to her words. “Good morning, Marianna. How are you enjoying this beautiful day?”

  Sister Marianna’s thin shoulders bunched under the jacket of her navy blue skirt suit. Her navy-red-and-white-patterned silk scarf, another original creation from Sister Kathy’s team, slipped a little more from its position around her neck. “Really, Louise? Must we always play this game?”

  This time, Sister Lou’s smile was genuine. “I do enjoy it so.”

  Sister Marianna settled onto one of the guest chairs. She sighed gustily as she gave Sister Lou a flat stare. “My day’s just fine, Louise. How is your day progressing?”

  “It’s going well so far, Marianna. Thank you so much for asking.” Sister Lou gestured toward her computer monitor. “It’s going to be very hectic, though. There are several projects I need to wrap up before the weekend.”

  “Fine.” Sister Marianna’s cool gray gaze was more demanding than curious. “Now that we’ve exchanged these perfectly unnecessary pleasantries, tell me why the mayor has moved into our motherhouse.”

  Sister Lou blinked. Was I too subtle in describing how very busy my day was going to be? More than likely, Marianna is more focused on her personal mission.

  Sister Lou leaned into her desk, surrendering to Sister Marianna’s takeover. “The mayor needs to clear her head, Marianna. As I’m sure you can understand she was devastated by her finance and management director’s very recent and unexpected death. Opal Lorrie wasn’t only Mayor Stanley’s finance director. She was also a very good friend.”

  Sister Marianna waved her hands in a dismissive manner. “Yes, yes, I realize that Mayor Stanley needs time to grieve, but she could have stayed in her own home to do that.”

  “She chose not to.” Sister Lou tried a casual shrug. Did it work?

  “I believe there’s more to it than that, Louise.” Sister Marianna’s skepticism was palpable.

  Sister Lou folded her hands together and forced herself not to squirm under Sister Marianna’s penetrating scrutiny. She didn’t want to mislead the other woman, but neither did she want to violate Heather’s privacy or the confidences the mayor had shared with her.

  “There also are a lot of critical issues that the mayor must decide on very soon.” Sister Lou gripped her hands more tightly together. She could feel the sweat starting to pool in her palms. “She needs to focus. Fortunately, the mayor has a very competent staff, but I’m certain she misses Opal’s experience and input. The change of venue will help—”

  “Was it your idea for the mayor to stay here?” Sister Marianna pounced.

  “No, it wasn’t, but I’m glad she’s here.” Sister Lou swallowed a sweet sigh of relief. Thank goodness she didn’t have to lie.

  “Why doesn’t Mayor Stanley know how long she’ll be here?”

  “We can’t put the grieving process on a timer, Marianna.” Sister Lou unclenched her hands and wiped her sweaty palms on the hips of her brown polyester pants. A rhythmic tapping caught her attention. She followed the sound to Sister Marianna where the other woman was drumming her fingertips on the wooden arms of her cushioned chair.

  Sister Marianna’s gaze continued to scan Sister Lou’s features for clues. “Louise, does the mayor’s sudden decision to stay with us have anything more to do with her finance and management director’s death beyond her grief?”

  The muscles in Sister Lou’s neck stiffened. Time to go on offense. “Marianna, why are you asking so many questions? Why can’t you accept that the mayor has called upon our hospitality as a calm oasis in the midst of her very personal grief?”

  “I want to know what’s going on, Louise. After all, I live in the motherhouse, too. Don’t I have a right to know why our mayor has moved in?”

  “We take in guests all the time. Heather’s staying here isn’t unusual.”

  Sister Marianna’s thin silver eyebrows came together. “Are you on a first-name basis with the mayor?”

  Sister Lou drew a deep breath, catching the fragrance of the white tea potpourri she kept in a bowl on top of her bookcase. “I’ve told you all that I can, Marianna. Please try to understand that Hea—the mayor doesn’t want us to make a fuss about her staying here during this difficult time.”

  Sister Marianna sniffed. She sat back on her chair as though mortally offended by Sister Lou’s implication that she couldn’t be discreet. “I certainly can keep a secret, Louise.”

  “I’m aware of that. Thank you.”

  “Does Barbara know why the mayor has chosen to stay with us at the motherhouse for an unspecified amount of time?”

  “Yes, I believe Barb spoke with Mayor Stanley shortly after the mayor arrived.” Sister Lou stopped short of suggesting that Sister Marianna should harass the prioress instead and leave her in peace.

  Sister Marianna’s gaze narrowed. “Tell me, Louise, are you investigating something for the mayor? Does Mayor Stanley’s stay with us have anything to do with your sleuthing hobby?”

  Sleuthing hobby? Sister Marianna made it sound as though Sister Lou collected very rare stamps or vintage autographed baseball cards.

  Sister Lou considered how to best—and diplomatically—respond to Sister Marianna’s distressingly insightful question. “Come now, Marianna, if Mayor Stanley needed investigative services, don’t you think she would go to the sheriff’s office?”

  “That would be the sensible plan of action.” Sister Marianna rose from the guest chair and smoothed the skirt of her navy suit. “But people aren’t always sensible when they’re under duress, are they? And your sleuthing skills have garnered very well deserved praise. You’re a talented investigator, Louise.”

  Sister Lou watched in stunned silence as Sister Marianna left her office. Considering the opposition the other woman had given Sister Lou when she’d investigated Dr. Maurice Jordan’s murder and even as she’d worked to clear Sister Marianna by investigating Autumn Tassler’s murder, Sister Lou had never expected Sister Marianna’s praise. She was shocked—and uneasy. Could she live up to the accolades?

  Chapter 18

  Running late. Sorry. On my way.

  Sister Lou read Shari’s text on her cellular phone while standing just inside the Briar Coast Café Friday afternoon.

  That’s fine. Drive safely. Sister Lou sent her four-word reply to Shari, then slipped her phone back into her large purse.

  Her mind wandered as she waited for her friend to join her for lunch. As usual, the customer order line moved at a brisk pace. Sister Lou enjoyed the café’s tempting aromas of hearty soups, fresh breads, well-seasoned meats, and sweet pastries. Her stomach grumbled in a low but long protest, chastising her for waiting so long between meals.

  “You’re Sister Lou, right?” The male voice beside her held more than a hint of urgency.

  Sister Lou interrupted her contemplation of the café’s baked goods display. Giving up the treats for Lent didn’t mean she couldn’t look at them.

  The young man at her side focused on her with intense brown eyes from a height about half a foot above her. He seemed young, perhaps in his mid-twenties, but his manner seemed even younger. His black Burberry cashmere winter coat and gold Movado wristwatch were signs of an attentive and well-to-do family. He’d made every effort to hair-gel his unruly brown curls into conformity, but a few strands had reasserted themselves.

  “May I help you?” Sister Lou gave him her complete attention and a curious smile.

  The stranger offered Sister Lou his right hand. It was soft to the touch and swallowed her fingers like a mitten. “I’m Harold Beckett. I’m a reporter with the Telegraph.”

  Shari wasn’t very chatty about her coworkers, but Siste
r Lou made a point of noting their bylines. Harold’s name wasn’t familiar. Perhaps he was new to the paper. “How do you do, Mister Beckett?”

  “Call me Harold, and you’re Lou?”

  Sister Lou’s smile remained intact. “It’s Sister Lou.”

  Harold seemed startled by Sister Lou’s response, but he rallied. “What a coincidence running into you here, right?” He shot a quick glance at the window behind her, which offered a view of the café’s parking lot. “I mean, I’ve read a lot about you and your investigations.”

  “Have you?” Sister Lou wasn’t comfortable with the attention given to her amateur investigations. I’ll ask Shari to keep my name out of future articles.

  “I have a proposal for you.” Harold stepped around to stand in front of Sister Lou. He looked behind her before meeting her gaze again. “You work with Shari on the murder investigations, and you can continue that.”

  “Thank you.” Sister Lou regarded Harold with amusement. He probably doesn’t realize how obnoxious he sounds.

  “Sure. Sure. Briar Coast doesn’t have that many murders anyway. But you can help me with other investigations like robberies or assaults.” Harold’s attention bounced from Sister Lou to the window and back. “What do you think?”

  Sister Lou turned to scan the parking lot through the café’s side window. She had a pretty good idea of who Harold had been looking for. She turned back, sensing the young man’s growing discomfort. “Are you expecting someone?”

  “What? No!” His denial was too vehement. “No! So what do you say? Are you going to chase some bad guys with me?”

  “Why would we do that when Briar Coast already has a very competent sheriff’s department?”

  “Well, we would come from a more biblical approach.” Harold’s gaze bounced over Sister Lou’s shoulder and back again. “You know, quote a few lines from the Bible, like the Ten Commandments, ‘Thou shalt not steal.’ Whaddaya think?”

  Sister Lou tried to school her features to mask her horror but feared she may have failed. “I’m not going to do that.”

  “Why not?” Harold looked surprised. “It’s a great idea.”

  “It’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

  “I think people in this town would—” Harold cut himself off as his attention was once again drawn over Sister Lou’s shoulder. “I’ve got to go, Sister. I’ll follow up with you later. Let’s just keep this meeting between us. Okay?”

  “No, it’s not okay.” Sister Lou looked over her shoulder and caught sight of Shari stepping out of her car. She returned her attention to Harold. “I don’t keep secrets from my friends. In the future, if you want to discuss something with me, please don’t play games. I much prefer the direct approach.”

  “I still don’t know what you mean.” Harold didn’t wait for Sister Lou to respond. He spun on the heels of his black imported wingtips and maneuvered past the café’s tables intent on escaping through the rear exit. Interesting.

  “I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, Sister Lou.” Shari’s voice greeted Sister Lou moments later.

  Her young friend was a pleasant distraction from the recent unpleasant encounter. “I haven’t been waiting long, dear.”

  Shari stepped behind Sister Lou as the older woman moved to the end of the café’s long lunch line. She was thankful that the customer order line was moving quickly. She was hungry enough to start eating her shoes.

  After ordering their usual soups and salads, Shari followed Sister Lou to an empty table for two toward the front of the dining area. Shari bowed her head and waited for Sister Lou to say the grace over their meal.

  “How was your morning?” Sister Lou spread a paper napkin over her lap.

  Shari sighed, exhaling a small bit of the exasperation that lingered in her shoulders. She ripped open her packet of honey mustard dressing. “It was fine until I tried to leave my desk. I knew I shouldn’t have answered the phone. The call was from some city council member’s office in Buffalo. Weird. Why do they care about our small town’s election?”

  “A Buffalo councilman?”

  Shari wondered at Sister Lou’s odd reaction. “Yes, Brice Founder. Is something wrong?”

  Sister Lou lowered her packet of olive oil and vinaigrette salad dressing. “Was the caller Jefferson Manning?”

  Surprised, Shari paused in the act of dousing her bowl of spring vegetables with salad dressing. “How do you know him?”

  “I met him yesterday.” Sister Lou emptied half the packet of dressing over her salad. “He’s a friend of Kerry Fletcher.”

  “The mayor’s admin?” Shari picked up her silver fork. The metal was cool in her hand. “That’s bizarre. He asked a bunch of questions about our election issues. Why didn’t he just ask Kerry?”

  Sister Lou’s attention shifted toward the rear of the café before she met Shari’s gaze again. “Is that call the reason you were delayed?”

  Shari shrugged as she forked up bits of lettuce, carrots, and celery. “I told good old Jeffie that he should contact the reporter assigned to the elections. He must be hard of hearing because I had to repeat myself twice before he finally agreed to take my advice.”

  “And the reporter assigned to the elections is Harold Beckett.” Sister Lou spoke as though she knew she was right.

  Shari lowered her hands to the table and gave her friend an incredulous look. “Are you clairvoyant? How did you know Hal was assigned to the election? None of his articles have run yet.”

  “He was just here.” Sister Lou inclined her head toward the rear of the café as she picked up her fork. “Somehow he knew that I would be at the Briar Coast Café. He stopped by to introduce himself to me.”

  “That little creep.” Shock ran through Shari’s system like an icy river. Her thoughts raced as she tried to solve this latest puzzle. “He must have heard me on the phone with Chris this morning, telling him that I was meeting you for lunch. What else has he heard me talking about?” Shari felt sick. “Did Hal ask about our investigations?”

  “No, but he did have a proposition for me.”

  “Oh boy.” Shari’s appetite dwindled. “What was it?”

  “He said you and I can continue our murder investigations. He wants to work with me on robbery cases.” Sister Lou seemed to be enjoying her lunch. She pressed her fork with great precision into her salad bowl, selecting her vegetables with care.

  “What did you say?” Shari regarded her meal with measurably less enthusiasm.

  The look Sister Lou gave her questioned Shari’s common sense. “I told him that Briar Coast has very competent law enforcement officers. There’s no need for me to investigate the town’s robberies. You and Chris of all people know that I’m not enthusiastic about these investigations, but it seems that I’ve been called to them.”

  “Hal can be persistent.”

  “I’ve given him my answer.” Sister Lou’s tone was matter-of-fact. She returned to her salad, underscoring her position that the subject was closed.

  A reluctant smile curved Shari’s lips. Her friend could be stubborn. She’d proven that time and again. Shari envied Sister Lou her confidence.

  They ate in silence, each apparently lost in their thoughts. Shari’s salad, covered in sweet honey mustard dressing, usually tasted too good to be healthy, but today it was like bitter dust. With each passing moment, a bubbling resentment rose ever higher in her throat until she couldn’t force her salad past it.

  “Every time I think I’ve found the place where I’m supposed to be—a foster home, a school, a job—someone tries to chase me out.” Shari froze. The words had spewed out of her without warning. Her eyes flew up to meet the concern in Sister Lou’s onyx gaze. “I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.”

  “Why not?” Sister Lou’s voice was soft, gentle. “You’ve never guarded your words before.”

  “All right.” Shari couldn’t help the defensive note in her words. She tightened her right fist around the warm silver fork. “You’ve met
Hal. He’s . . . normal. Granted, he’s arrogant, irresponsible, and completely without boundaries—obviously—but other than that, he’s normal, isn’t he?”

  “I suppose he did seem so.” Sister Lou sounded confused.

  “That’s right.” Shari struggled to express feelings she’d never before verbalized. She’d never had anyone to share those words with. “I’m tired of pretending to be normal. I want to just be normal.”

  “What’s your definition of normal? Perhaps we should start there.”

  Shari could sense her friend struggling to understand her feelings. “You are. You’re my definition of normal. You grew up with stability. You know what that looks like and what it feels like. You know who your parents were. You know who your siblings were. You have some sense of your ancestral past. ‘Having roots’ isn’t some nebulous concept for you, but it is for me. I don’t know who I came from, where I came from, or whether I belong anywhere.”

  “You belong here, Shari. You belong in Briar Coast.”

  Shari was shaking her head even before Sister Lou stopped speaking. She swallowed the sour, burning lump of emotion in her throat and lowered her voice, hoping the occupants of the other tables couldn’t hear her. “Suppose people realize I’m a fraud? Suppose Diego realizes that Hal is normal and I’m not, that Hal is better than me?”

  “Wait!” The word shot from Sister Lou. Her tone was firm and determined. “Just stop right there. You and Harold have different backgrounds, but he’s not better than you and you’re not less than he is.”

  Shari’s shrug was a stiff movement of muscle. “I’d rather move on myself than have someone show me to the door while Hal gets my beat.”

  “This doesn’t sound like you, Shari.” Sister Lou’s dark eyes seemed to reach inside Shari’s mind and search through the cobwebs of her thoughts. “I can’t imagine you backing away from a challenge.”

  Shari pushed her half-eaten salad aside and feigned an interest in her cooling lentil soup. These meatless Fridays during Lent were like mini booby traps. Without thinking about it, she could slip up and find herself biting into a burger.