She’d learned that little lesson the hard way.
***
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one day since my last confession. Pathetic, I know, but I can’t help it. Seeking truth and justice for all is not an easy task, mind you. And it’s not like I actually did the breaking; I simply did the entering. Trust me, I wasn’t the only one. Someone else needs to have a talk with you as well. Maybe you could send him a sign and tell him, because he doesn’t seem to be listening to me.
Cece ate lunch with Candy that afternoon at Millie’s Diner on Salvation Lane. Well, Cece ate. Candy had been chatting for ten minutes on her cell phone. Candy pulled the phone away from her ear. “Gran wants to know if Jackass has a tail?”
The diner was remarkably empty, given the town was swarming with people. Probably, because Mrs. Sloan had opened her house to all for a reception following the service. To all except Cece, that is. She’d made it quite clear that particular nun was not invited.
Apparently, neither was Eleanor Meriwether, because she was the only other patron in the diner. Come to think of it, she hadn’t been at the wake either, yet supposedly she had a thing for the senator. Several people suspected she was the one the senator had been having an affair with, but nothing had ever been confirmed. Maybe she hadn’t wanted to cause a scene by showing up at the wake and making Mrs. Sloan uncomfortable.
Just then, a man Cece had never seen before came into the diner and sat down at Eleanor’s table. He looked to be around her age—mid-forties—with salt-and-pepper hair and glasses. He wore khakis and a sweater vest over a button-down shirt—basically, your everyday average Joe. Eleanor looked up and the sad expression on her face was instantly replaced with a beaming smile. The question was: What did it all mean?
“Earth to Cece. I said Gran wants to know if Jackass has a tail,” Candy repeated.
“Huh? Oh, sorry. Just a sec.” Cece pulled out her prayer book and used the monogrammed pen Granny and Candy had given her to jot down on one of the pages a note to herself to follow up on Eleanor. Cece had to have some place to put the information she gathered, and she figured no one would think to look in her prayer book, especially Detective Jackson. She stuck her pen in the loose bun at the back of her head and tucked the book back in her tote bag, then focused on her sister’s question. “Yes, a donkey has a tail. Why?”
“Not a donkey, ya goof.” Candy jerked her head to the man eating a sub in the truck parked out front on the street. “Detective Jackass.”
“Would you stop calling him names, Charity?”
“Would you stop calling me Charity?”
Cece pursed her lips, deciding to choose her battles. “About the tail. What is Granny talking about?”
“Hang on.” Candy asked Gran, and after a moment, burst out laughing. “She cast a spell and wants to know if it worked.”
Cece glanced out the window and caught Ace staring at her. The man was determined; she’d give him that. It appeared now he was following her every move. She chose to be the bigger person and ignore his smirk as she turned her attention back to her sister. “The last I checked, Detective Jackson’s hindquarters looked just fine to me.”
Candy’s eyelids lowered halfway. “Sorry, Gran. Maybe you need more gunpowder or a bigger squirrel. But please, for my sake, keep trying.” She hung up and zeroed in on Cece, making her squirm in her seat and lose her appetite. And she’d really wanted the rest of that burger, darn it. “Oh. My. God.” Candy gaped at her. “You like him, don’t you?”
“Well, of course I like him. Everyone has good in them; you just have to dig deeper to find it in some people.” Cece leveled her sister with a pointed look.
“Don’t give me that load of crap. Unlike you, I haven’t been sheltered, babe. I know lust when I see it.” Cece looked at her sister in disgust, but Candy just kept steamrolling ahead. “I just can’t believe it’s over … him.” She flung her hand to the side and made a stabbing motion toward the window.
Ace saluted Candy as he ripped off a hunk of sub with his teeth, making her bare her own canines back at him. His shoulders shook as though he were chuckling, most likely having the time of his life, making her miserable. If only they could work out their differences, Cece thought, but she had a feeling he and Candy were too much alike.
“You’re nuts, you know that?” Cece said, facing away from the annoying detective. That brief insane moment where she’d thought he might be her dream man must have been a trick of the light and the result of post-traumatic stress disorder.
“Riiight. You always turn the color of beets, break out in a sweat, and ‘Hello, little sisters’”—she waved to Cece’s breasts. “Nip out after just one look from the guy. He’s hot, I’ll give you that, but he’s such a pain in the ass. Why does it have to be him?”
“Charity, please, enough with the language,” Cece said, thinking her sister had lost her mind.
“Sorry, babe, but I’d even prefer you getting all hot and bothered over his partner, Rockstar.”
“It’s Rocco.”
“Whatever.” She shoved her hands through her hair. “Detective Hardass is not the right man for a woman like you. As your big sister, I’m just looking out for you.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about that. I didn’t leave the church to find a man. Especially not one like the detective.”
“Why did you leave the church?” Candy tipped her head to the side and squinted as she studied Cece.
Cece hadn’t told anyone other than Father Flannigan about her sexy dreams, and something told her telling her sister was not a good idea. Besides, she refused to believe her dreams had anything to do with the detective, and she had bigger things to worry about. “Let’s just say I’ve always been different from the other nuns. I felt like something was missing, like maybe I wasn’t doing something right. I just thought I could help more people from outside the church, that’s all.”
Candy snickered. “Right. And that’s why you blush every time you so much as mention Big Boy’s name.” Cece started to protest, but Candy held up a hand. “Enough about Jackass. I’d like to get through lunch without indigestion, and I wanted to give you a housewarming present.” Her blue eyes sparkled as she reached in her enormous purse and pulled out a bottle of Jack Daniels. “To us, baby! How ’bout a threesome with Jack back at your place? We can celebrate renewing our bond.”
Cece choked, feeling as though she were about to hyperventilate. She snatched the bottle and stuffed it in her canvas tote bag, glancing around to make sure no one saw as she caught her breath. “Wow, um, thank you for the gift, but honestly, Charity, you’re going to give me a heart attack yet.”
She didn’t want to hurt her sister’s feelings, but they were vastly different people. She couldn’t throw the gift away, but she knew exactly where she’d put this little token. It would warm the house, all right. Right inside the cupboard high above her kitchen sink, where no one would find it.
Candy chuckled. “You really need to loosen up.”
“And you need to come to church.”
Her sister studied her. “I’ll make you a deal.”
“I draw the line at threesomes of any kind.”
“I get that, even though you don’t know what you’re missing.” Candy laughed. “You let me give you a makeover, and I’ll go to church with you.”
“Yayyyy!” Cece squealed and clapped her hands. She would do anything—okay, almost anything—to save her sister from the path she was on. “It’s a deal.”
“By the way, did you find out anything more about who might have killed the senator?” Candy asked, digging into her Caesar salad at last.
“Just that the police are leaning toward a disgruntled husband or boyfriend. They think the senator was having an affair since he does have a reputation for being rather fond of the ladies. It always surprised me that Mrs. Sloan put up with her husband’s indiscretions.”
Candy snorted. “I don’t think his wife had to worry.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s just say the senator frequented the club a lot.”
“That’s not surprising.”
Candy leaned forward with a sly grin. “What is surprising is that for such a ladies’ man, I heard he couldn’t get it up.”
“You’re kidding!” Cece sat back, stunned. “Maybe his wife never left him because she knew she didn’t have to worry. I don’t think the senator was having an affair; I think he was impotent and trying like the devil to cure himself.”
“Hmph. I never thought about it that way. You just might be right.” Candy shrugged, then went back to eating her salad.
“Hey, I just thought of something I have to do. Can you cover for me? I only need about twenty minutes.”
Candy’s smile disappeared. “What are you up to? You’re not thinking of looking into this case yourself, are you?”
“Don’t be silly. I just need some space to clear my head, and well, darn, you’re right. That ole Jacko is a pain in the keister.” Cece snapped her fingers.
“You are so full of bull, it’s not even funny—but whatever. Any chance to pull the wool over Jackass’s flattop, I’m game.”
“Great. I owe you.”
“I know.” Candy’s eyes sparkled, and Cece decided she’d worry about that look later.
“So how are we going to pull this off?”
“Wait—I have a plan. I know the owner, and she has long brown hair too. Not hair like yours, but long enough to pass, especially since you have yours up in that god-awful librarian bun. Sit tight.” Candy slipped into the kitchen and spoke with a woman behind the counter for a moment, then reappeared with a big, floppy straw hat. “Here, put this on.”
“Why?”
“Just trust me for once, would you? You asked for my help, so let me help.”
Their eyes met, and Cece felt a pang of hope. “Okay.” She put the hat on. “Now what?”
“Now wave to Jackass so he sees you with it on.”
“Oh-kay.” Cece did, and Ace studied her, with a goofy half-smile looking out of place on that chiseled face of his.
“Now go to the bathroom,” Candy broke into her thoughts.
“But … I don’t have to.”
“Duh. And we are sisters how?” Candy wrinkled her nose. “Never mind. Just pretend to go to the bathroom, then slip into the kitchen and give Millie her hat back.”
“And that is going to help me how?” Cece said in the same tone her sister had used.
“Simple. Jackson will see Millie come back out and think it’s you, which will keep his ass planted in his truck for a while. I can’t guarantee how long, so you’d better work fast.”
Cece’s smile stretched clear across her face. “You’re brilliant, you know that?”
Candy shrugged. “I have my moments.” But her eyes still showed her refusal to believe she was smart. Cece wouldn’t stop trying until she found a way to change that. Candy interrupted her thoughts with, “Well, go on if you’re goin’.”
“Roger dodger.” Cece giggled, and Candy rolled her eyes. There was a reason opposites attracted, and at the moment Cece wouldn’t have traded her sister for anyone else in the world.
Episode 3
Chapter 5
Ten minutes later, Cece made her way around the corner from Millie’s Diner on Salvation Lane to the building the senator used as a campaign office on Main Street. Once inside, she noticed most of the other rented spaces were empty, as everyone was either at Mrs. Sloan’s house or out to lunch.
A moment of doubt crept over her as she stood outside the office door, yellow police tape blocking the entrance. If she stepped over the threshold, she’d be headed in a direction where there was no turning back. But she’d already decided the path to truth and justice would not always be an easy one.
Or sin free.
The door was ajar, which meant she wouldn’t exactly be breaking and entering—just entering. She glanced around but still didn’t see anyone, so she plunged ahead and refused to look back.
The police had already gone over this room with a fine-tooth comb, so she reasoned whatever evidence they were looking for, they’d probably already found. But she couldn’t get those politicians’ words out of her mind. They’d said the senator had organized a secret meeting, using his connections at some undisclosed location. And if he’d “smelled” trouble, he should have come to them first. Cece wondered if this trouble had anything to do with his impotence or the illegal matter the senator was involved in.
She had no clue what she was doing, but she couldn’t go to his house with his wife home. And because the tip had come from politicians, she figured the senator’s campaign office was at least someplace to start. She was sure the Feds had covered every inch in a thorough manner, so the chances of her finding something were slim, but still—she had to do something.
Cece spent the next several minutes searching the room for clues. She checked files, the closet, his desk—everywhere—hoping to find something that seemed out of place, but found nothing. Standing in the middle of the room, she turned around in a slow circle, checking off a mental inventory. Filing cabinets, desks, office equipment, family pictures, nothing out of the ordinary.
She spotted his Bible on the floor. The senator had been a God-fearing man. Had attended church every Sunday. Had gone to confession regularly with Father Flannigan—except the one time, of course. Religion had played a big role in his life.
She wondered …
Dropping to her knees, she picked up the Bible and examined it, then smiled. Just as she thought. A secret compartment, the same as Father Flannigan’s. Easy to miss if you didn’t know what you were looking for. She fiddled with the Bible, but nothing happened. It wasn’t a secret compartment; it was just a defect. She should have known that would have been too easy.
She started to get up, but her special pen fell from her loose bun and rolled across the floor, then slipped down into the heating vent. Scrambling over on her hands and knees, she stuck her fingers through the slotted cover to the air vent, but realized they’d never reach her pen. She had to get her pen back. It meant a lot to her, and besides, it was monogrammed with her name. Not a very smart thing to bring with her while trespassing.
Tugging hard, she thanked God for forced-air heating. The cover to the vent pulled right out of the floor. Sticking her hand down into the vent, she reached as far back as she could, but found nothing. Then she realized the vent made a sharp turn to the left. Who knew? There was another advantage to being small, after all. She could just bend her hand at the wrist and squeeze it through. Yes! She’d found her pen.
Scrunching up her face, she realized her pen wasn’t the only thing down there. It felt like a small book. Pulling her hand out, she blinked. It was a book, but not just any book. It was the senator’s little black book. The police must have missed it. A tingle of excitement shot up her spine. Maybe now she’d find out whom the senator was having an affair with. Although, according to her sister, he had trouble getting his “little friend” to rise to the occasion.
Cece opened the book and raised a brow. Hmmm. All the names of the women were stage names like her sister’s, and there was a rating next to each one: Hot lips: 2 stars; Glitter: 3 stars; Luscious Legs: not worth a star; Creamy: 5 stars and an exclamation point to boot. Obviously the senator’s little friend had no trouble rising to the occasion at—Cece squinted to read the name of the club—Woody’s. Funny, she’d never heard of a strip club called Woody’s, not that she knew anything at all about strip clubs, even with a pole-dancing sister.
Cece had a feeling the club wasn’t local, which would make sense because the senator had a family who lived in town. That’s probably why he had, um, “trouble” saluting the women at The Pole, where her sister danced. Speaking of her sister, Cece would have to ask her if she’d ever heard of this club. Cece had a feeling that if she went there, she’d find some answers. In the meantime, she had to get out of the senator
’s office; Candy could only hold off Detective Jackson for so long.
She closed the book, and it flipped out of her hands by accident. When she picked it up, a piece of paper fell out of the back. She opened it and inhaled sharply.
A note.
Oh, boy, she’d done it now. All of this was evidence, and she didn’t want to obstruct justice. She simply wanted to help it along. The problem was her prints were all over both the book and the note. For that matter, the whole room. Hey, it was her first attempt at snooping. She hadn’t exactly planned ahead or thought to put on gloves. The rest of the room had already been dusted for prints, except for these items. So for now, she would have to take them with her until she figured out what to do with them or solved the case. Then, hopefully, it wouldn’t matter. Squinting, she read the scrawled handwriting first.
Been to that old, abandoned farmhouse of yours out in the country lately? You might want to make a road trip and check out the barn.
Cece stuffed the note in the book and shoved it down deep in her back pocket. Maybe the senator’s farmhouse had to do with something illegal? Or maybe it was the undisclosed location for that secret meeting. Hmmm. Maybe it was time she took a road trip herself. The senator’s properties should be easy enough to find, assuming she could ditch a certain detective. She pulled out her prayer book and scribbled.
“Christ almighty, tell me you’re not doing what I think you’re doing?” a deep voice said from behind her.
Cece scrambled around on her knees, facing the imposing figure that filled the doorway. Thinking fast, her eyes traveled up the impressive length of him. He had Scary Cop Guy down to a tee, but she knew the perfect way to freak him out.
She made the sign of the cross as she said, “In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Ghost,” then raised her hands to the ceiling and started swaying back and forth. “‘Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name—’”
The detective stumbled back a step, as though she’d punched him in the gut. “Wh–what the hell are you doing?”
Kicking the Habit Page 6
