Screw that. “What?” he barked. Several “holy” heads turned his way and frowned, so he swiped a hand over his face and lowered his voice. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Ridiculous to you, but not to Senator Sloan, I’m sure.” She adjusted the stained, black material covering her lap.
“Listen, Sister, the man’s dead. He’s not going to know or care what you say now. In fact, I’m pretty sure he’d want the person who murdered him to pay.”
“You have no idea what he would want, Detective, and neither do I. It’s not my place to tell the world what he said in the sacred privacy of the confessional.”
Ace bit down on his frustration and closed his notebook, searching for a way to make her spill her guts. “I’ll just get a court order, and you’ll be forced to tell me what you know.”
“Actually, I won’t,” she said in that calm and serene voice that was beginning to irritate the crap out of him.
The first inkling of doubt entered Ace’s mind. The nun held the key to solving this crime, but she wasn’t talking. And he didn’t have a clue how to make her. “How do you figure you won’t have to tell?”
“Senator Sloan never would have confessed to me had he known I wasn’t a priest; therefore, his confession is still protected by the laws of the church.”
Ace gritted his teeth. “You’re wrong. You’re not a priest, nor were you a nun at the time of the confession. If it will harm this case by your not telling me about the evidence you have, or if failing to get that evidence can lead to others being harmed, a judge will rule in favor of the prosecution.” He leaned forward and stared her in the eye. “You will have to tell me what you know, one way or another.”
“Even if you get a judge who is protective of law and order to side with you, I will simply have the church’s defense attorney—who happens to be an expert on canon law—stall by appealing to a higher court.” She leaned forward and stared right back. “By then the case will be over, Detective.”
“I’m filing for the court order anyway.”
“File away. I’m just trying to do what’s right.”
“So am I.” The air grew thick between them. “Look, Sister, the right thing to do would be to help me solve this case and help Senator Sloan rest in peace.”
For the first time, her face showed signs of wavering as her lashes fluttered, then lowered. “I …”
The front doors opened, and the waning sunlight framed two silhouettes that Ace couldn’t mistake if he tried. Dammit! He’d been so close, and now they had to show up.
***
“Who’s that?” Sister Mary Cecelia asked, squinting at the front doors of the church.
“Beavis and Butthead,” Ace wanted to say, but muttered instead, “The Feds.”
Her forehead knit for a brief moment. Then she put on her mask of calm serenity and straightened her backbone in a way that had him grinning, despite his irritation with her.
They weren’t getting shit out of her either.
“Ma’am. Jackson,” the two men said in unison, looking like the “Men in Black” with their nearly matching suits and dark shades.
“Wallace. Rogers,” Ace echoed as he crossed his arms and sat back to watch the show, trying like hell to keep the grin off his face.
“Gentleman, before I waste your time, let me clarify something right from the start,” Sister Mary Cecelia said. “Senator Sloan’s confession will go to the grave with him.”
Wallace tipped his glasses forward. “Are you for real?” He looked at Ace before she had a chance to answer, repeating, “Is she for real?”
“I’m afraid so,” Ace said, going for a serious expression. He still planned to get legal counsel involved, but they didn’t have to know that. He wasn’t giving them dick.
“She is most certainly for real, gentleman. And she is perfectly capable of talking for herself, thank you very much,” the nun said.
“Unbelievable, lady.” Rogers threw up his hands, cursing. “Damn! Whose team are you on—the good guys or the bad guys?”
“I’m on God’s team.” She raised her chin a notch, and unbelievably seemed to grow even taller. “You’d do well to watch your tongue in His house, sir.”
Ace couldn’t help it—a small chuckle slipped out.
“I don’t know what you’re laughing about, Jackson.” Rogers hammered him with his words. “Washington wants answers, and they want them now. We don’t have time for nonsense.” He looked at the nun and threw her words back at her. “You’d do well to tell us what you know.”
“I can’t.”
A pulse ticked in Rogers’s neck, and his jaw bulged.
“Fine. We’ll look into other avenues,” Wallace said, giving up a hell of a lot quicker than Ace had expected. Why didn’t they suggest a court order? “Your job is to babysit the nun. Stick to her like a bad habit, Jackson,” he said, smirking.
The laughter vanished from Ace, and he surged to his feet. “Like hell.”
“Detective.” The sister’s stern, disapproving look and sharp tone pierced through his anger, and he suddenly remembered where he was.
“Sorry, Sister, I meant no disrespect.” Once again, he began to sweat as he glanced at the statue of Jesus hanging from the cross, but he didn’t feel peace … he felt the fear of God.
Ace struggled to clear his head and focused on Wallace. “Nun-sitting will never fly with my captain. This is my jurisdiction; therefore, my case. I don’t need the Feds getting involved, telling me what to do.”
“You don’t have a choice. Not when a senator’s involved. Like I said, we’ll look into other avenues while you babysit Sister Mary Stubborn. Let us know if she comes to her senses or if you find anything.”
The sister’s face puckered up. “Why, I never—”
“Ain’t that the truth?” Rogers grunted.
“Watch your mouth.” Ace stepped between the sister and the assholes in front of him.
“Come on, Wallace—we’re wasting our time here.” The men headed for the front door.
Ace was onto their game. He knew exactly why they’d given up so fast. They had some other big lead they were going to follow and obviously thought it was more important than whatever the sister had to say. Ace was sure they figured with him babysitting her, he’d stay out of their way. Screw that.
“I’ll be sure to give you everything I’ve got, so long as you do the same,” Ace shouted after them.
They just kept walking and, with a push of the door, they were gone. Share information, my ass, he thought. They weren’t about to share anything with him, and they didn’t intend to let him solve this case either. He’d be damned if he’d let them win. This case would advance his career tenfold. Besides, he never was one to turn down a challenge, especially from the likes of Beavis and Butthead.
Ace clamped his teeth together so hard his molars ached. The last thing he wanted was to nun-sit, but he knew the sister was in danger. “Listen, I think it’s a good idea if we hide you somewhere far away from here.” He turned and looked way down at her as she stood beside him, the top of her head only reaching the middle of his bicep.
She didn’t stand a chance on her own.
“What on earth for?” she scoffed, standing a bit straighter. She might be a little thing, but she had a stubborn streak and more backbone than most people, including himself. That could be a problem.
“Whoever killed the Senator means business,” he said. “They obviously don’t want whatever he said to get out and, like it or not, you are the only one with that information. You’re a sitting duck, especially without your habit. You might want to reconsider leaving the sisterhood.”
“I will not cower in fear. If it is my time to pass on from this earth, then nothing I can do will change that.”
He put his hands on his hips and leaned over her in his most intimidating stance, but she didn’t so much as blink. “Why don’t you get it?” he asked in frustration. “All you have to do is tell
me what he said and let me put you someplace safe.”
She stared off in the distance as if pondering his words and making a decision about something. At last she nodded. “There’s a reason I was in that booth at that precise moment. Obviously, I was meant to hear Senator Sloan’s confession, just as I am meant to solve this case,” she said so matter-of-factly that he almost missed it.
“Excuse me?” he blurted, taking a step back.
“I never said I wouldn’t help you solve this case. I simply chose not to help you in the way you would like. I’ll take what I know, and I’ll find the clues that will put whoever killed Senator Sloan away so he can’t hurt anyone else.”
“You can’t be serious!” he sputtered.
“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Her eyes narrowed in that determined, stubborn way he’d already come to recognize, which basically meant she wasn’t giving in anytime soon. “I owe the man that much,” she went on. “Besides, I now know what I was meant to do with my life. Open my counseling clinic so I can help the citizens of New Hope, both the living and the deceased, and that is exactly what I plan to do.” She smiled as though she’d just told him she’d decided to plant a rose garden.
He couldn’t have formed a complete sentence if he’d tried.
“If that will be all, Detective, I have things to do as well.” The stubborn woman turned and strolled away, her fuzzy white slippers peeking out beneath her robes, whispering across the floor like a gentle breeze.
Ace stared after her, rubbing his jaw, his mind scrambling for a way to control his temper. A way to control this situation. A way to control her. No way would he let her help solve this case. She could get hurt. Nun-sitting just took on a whole new meaning.
Who the hell did she think she was—Sister Mary Sleuth?
***
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Yes, it’s me again. Guess I haven’t kicked the habit completely. Okay, not funny. Anyhow, I didn’t mean to curse or take your name in vain. I promise, I only did so in my mind, but you have no idea how hard it is to live with my granny and sister. “Lord, give me strength,” just didn’t cut it this time. If you knew them, you’d realize forgiveness is in order here.
The next morning, Cece stood on Main Street, staring at a small building with a furnished studio apartment upstairs. Granted, the building needed a lot of work. But with a little tender loving care, she was confident she could make it into something special. Besides, it wasn’t like she had other offers. Ever the optimist, she tried to look at the bright side. She had a place of her own, and that was a start.
Who would have thought she’d been ready to take the final step in becoming a full nun? Now here she was, living as a normal person, getting ready to open her own business. Okay, so she wasn’t exactly “normal,” and her business was more of a way to keep doing what she’d been doing all along: counseling the good citizens of New Hope, Massachusetts. But things were different now. Cece would have to adapt to living on her own.
She hadn’t lived in the “real” world for almost a decade. She might be unconventional with her pink toenails, and okay, not very nun-like with her sexy dreams and the wacky things that happened to her, but inside she still felt like a sister. That ought to blend in well with today’s generation, she thought wryly.
She took a deep breath and decided this was a blessing. A way to help people from the outside, starting with Senator Sloan. She’d prayed long and hard for guidance, and felt confident she was meant to seek out truth and justice for all … whether the good detective liked it or not.
Pasting on a smile, Cece spoke to the bald-headed man beside her, who wore a grin so wide it made her own face hurt. “Thank you, Mayor Evans. I don’t know what to say.”
“Sister Mary Cecelia—”
“Please, call me Cece. I’m not a nun anymore, you know.” She might have lived in the nunnery for nine years, but she’d spent a lot of time at Our Lady of Glory over the years. Several people who hadn’t felt comfortable talking to a priest had sought her out for her advice. That was what had first given her the idea to open her clinic.
“You’ll always be Sister Mary Cecelia to the citizens of New Hope. The people adore you. Don’t you know that by now?”
“Well, I’d like to think they—”
“And they do, my dear. They most certainly do.” His grin widened, if that was possible.
“Are you sure the town wants to donate this building for my clinic? It seems like a lot to me.” She chewed her bottom lip, glancing at the crowd gathered to watch her cut the ribbon. They acted as if this were the opening of some million-dollar complex. Nothing like pressure to make a person doubt herself.
A lightning bolt streaked through the darkening sky. Five seconds later, a boom of thunder clapped so loud it made the windows on the ancient, dilapidated building rattle.
Cece looked up. Okay, okay, I get it. Quit doubting yourself and stick to the plan, already.
“Sister, you may have left the church, but the citizens of New Hope will never leave you. They still want to know they can confide in you, that you will keep their secrets safe.” Mayor Evans focused on her, and something in his gaze made her scalp tingle, sending a feeling like jagged fingernails scraping her flesh as they tracked a path down her spine. “Just as you did for Senator Sloan,” he finished, and then his eyes narrowed a fraction before he turned to the crowd and smiled once again.
Maybe he had another motive for giving her this building. It was a known fact he’d supported Senator Sloan’s opponent. Could he have killed the senator to ensure the election went to his candidate? After all, the senator had been leading in the latest polls. His biggest stance had been on gun control, while his opponent had offered more funding for improving the town.
“Besides, several people have come forward and donated enough money to cover what I would have sold this old building for, anyway,” the mayor continued, flashing his pearly whites, blinding Cece. “Rest assured, the money will go right back into improving the town. Now cut the ribbon and smile pretty for the Senior Scrappers. I want to make sure this picture gets into next week’s edition of the town photo album.”
Although Cece might be a woman of simple means, she was a firm believer in “waste not, want not” and wasn’t above accepting donations for the cause. She smiled wide, cut the ribbon, and blinked rapidly as she attempted to adjust her eyes to the strobe light of flashes going off.
The Senior Scrappers were a force to be reckoned with and more agile than outsiders could ever fathom, but New Hopians knew: “When in doubt, don’t pout.” It didn’t matter if the shot was horrible; it still went in “the book.”
With their ever-ready cameras dangling from their necks like fine pieces of jewelry, the relentless senior citizens snapped a zillion pictures for the town scrapbook in an ongoing competition to capture the perfect shot. Over the past forty years, there wasn’t a single event in New Hope that hadn’t been recorded in the town scrapbook.
A movement high above caught Cece’s eye, and she gasped. “Is that a scrapper in that old oak tree?”
“It sure is. Who knew she could climb so high?” the mayor muttered behind his sparkling teeth. “Just keep smiling. That angle might make for a better shot.”
“She’s gonna break her neck,” Cece said, as the first drops of rain hit the ground. “I think it’s time to call it a day.”
“Oh, it’ll pass, just give it a—”
Another crack of lightning streaked through the darkening sky, followed by a boom of thunder even closer than the one before. The rain started to come down harder.
“You were saying?” She folded her hands in front of her and looked up at the mayor.
“You’re right, Sister. My mistake. After all, we wouldn’t want anyone else getting hurt, now would we?”
The corners of her lips tipped down as she faced the crowd. Had she heard a threat in the mayor’s words, or had her imagination gotten a little too active? She wiped the rain off her forehea
d and decided this was not the time to dwell on it.
Raising her voice to the crowd, she said, “Thank you so much, everyone. I promise I won’t let you down. In fact, I don’t have much to pack up. So tomorrow, right after Senator Sloan’s wake, Cece’s Counseling Clinic will be open if anyone needs me. But for now, I think you should all return to your homes. There’s a nor’easter coming, and it looks like a doozy.”
Everyone dispersed, and with the key to her new apartment in hand, Cece trudged through the wet leaves to her granny’s house, which happened to be within walking distance of her clinic. She looked over her shoulder but didn’t see anyone, even though she could have sworn she heard something. Hmmm. Probably just another scrapper. Or worse, that persistent detective who insisted on nun-sitting.
How was she supposed to find proof with him around? When she’d told him she intended to solve the senator’s murder, he’d looked like the Terminator, ready to terminate her. She had a suspicious feeling if he caught her in the act of snooping, he’d throw her in the slammer just to keep her “safe.” She couldn’t let that happen.
Pushing her annoyance aside, she let the excitement at the thought of starting something new fill her. But her excitement quickly faded and anxiety set in. Growing up with a crazy granny and a rebellious older sister had left Cece lost and confused. Entering the convent had given her the one piece of sanity in the insane life she’d been trapped in.
Now that she was no longer a nun, she’d moved back home; only she’d never intended to stay. Her clinic was open, which meant she would have to tell her granny and her sister something she knew neither one wanted to hear.
She was moving out again.
Episode 2
Chapter 3
Ace pulled up in front of Sister Mary Cecelia’s house that afternoon. Peering through the pouring rain at the number on the garage, he double-checked the address. This wasn’t the first time he’d been to this residence. He groaned, knowing this wasn’t going to be pretty. He stepped out of his Chevy truck, then climbed the front steps of the old colonial with dread, preferring the soaking rain to the inevitable storm headed his way once he stepped foot in that house.
Kicking the Habit Page 3
