Then There Were Nun

by Dakota Cassidy

  “What happened here, Trixie?” Knuckles asked as he looked to where Higgs held a sobbing Iris captive, his face a hard mask.

  I still wasn’t exactly sure how she fit, seeing as how the article I’d read said she had cancer. But this had to be the Matias and Diego’s mother, Iris. She’d said, you killed my baby.

  “I’ll tell you all about it later. Okay?”

  As sirens sounded, I had Coop and Knuckles help get me to Higgs, who held onto Iris with such force, I thought he’d crack her in half. As sirens blared, now a familiar tune to my ears, I stood to the side of them.

  When I heard him say he should kill her from teeth clenched tight, I knew I had to intervene.

  With Coop, Knuckles and Solomon surrounding me, I spoke to him. “Higgs, take it easy. The police are coming. Hear that? Tansy’s surely on her way. We have Fergus’s killer. She confessed to me. Don’t do anything you’ll regret. You love the shelter. You said so yourself. I can’t volunteer at a shelter if there is no shelter. Don’t throw it all away. Ease up. Please, please, listen to me.”

  Next, I heard the thunder of footsteps and the welcome sound of Tansy’s British accent. “Higgs!”

  Oh, thank goodness Detective Primrose was here! As she pushed her way through us to get to Higgs, she cried out in surprise, too, when she saw who he held captive. “Iris Santino?”

  But Iris didn’t acknowledge Detective Primrose. Her eyes were searing holes into Higgs’s face as she struggled and strained against him. “I hate you! I hate you and one day, you’re gonna get yours, you pig! For my Diego!” she spat.

  “All right, that’s enough!” Detective Primrose, who looked like she’d been through the ringer, intervened. “Higgs, step aside.” She gave his shoulder a yank and, as if by magic, his face relaxed and he took a step back and she took over Iris.

  He pushed his knuckles against his temple where Iris had whacked him with the gun and wiped at the blood with a wince, his chest pumping up and down. An officer approached him with a wad of tissues, and he acknowledged him by nodding as he appeared to gather himself and dab at his wound.

  When the haze of his anger cleared, Higgs suddenly saw me. When he assessed me with a scan of his eyes up and down my body, his handsome face instantly became riddled with concern. “Someone call an ambulance!”

  “Don’t be silly. I don’t need an ambulance, Higgs. That’s a waste of a good paramedic. I can catch a ride to the hospital. I’m not bleeding out. Also, they cost the earth. I can’t afford to pay for a ride to the hospital plus pay for the hospital,” I joked.

  Higgs put his hands on his hips and frowned, but there was amusement in his eyes. “How did you get mixed up in this?”

  “Well, how do you think?” I asked as we all began moving out of the now-crowded alley. “I thought to myself, Trixie Lavender, what would you like to do more than anything else in the world tonight? How about get shot in the foot? Yeah, I said. Let the good times roll.”

  He laughed out of the blue, a bark of a laugh that had him throwing his head back. “I think you’re the funniest ex-nun I know, and probably the coolest. You took a hit for me, Trixie. I’m never going to forget that.”

  My face went hot and my throat tight. “I’m probably the only ex-nun you know. As for cool, that’s up for debate. Now, no more talk, Cross Higglesworth. We need to get both King Solomon and myself to the hospital. He needs meds and a good night’s rest and I need a foot replacement.” As I hobbled to the cracked curb, with Coop and Knuckles helping me and Solomon still clinging to my hand, I handed Knuckles the keys to the Caddy. “Would you mind driving me, and Solomon, too?”

  He chuckled his hearty Santa Claus laugh, chucking me under the chin. “Would I mind? Be back in two shakes, and then I want to hear all about how my favorite ex-nun took a bullet. You’re a hero, Trixie girl!”

  Now I laughed as I watched him cross the street, his big body lumbering toward our car.

  But Higgs grabbed my arm and turned me to face him as Coop stood with Solomon, just close enough to his side for his comfort level—something I was so proud of her for gauging.

  “Seriously, Trixie,” he said, his eyes dark and somber. “Iris would have killed me if not for you. If you hadn’t screamed, she would have shot me.”

  I smiled warmly at him, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gratitude. “But she didn’t, Higgs. She didn’t. And I’m okay. And you’re okay. We’re all okay.”

  But his eyes held mine, gripping them until I couldn’t look away, as though he wanted me to see the words he wanted to say, but didn’t have. “I owe you, Sister Trixie. I owe you big.”

  And even though a tear stung my eye, even though I was just glad we all had our faces still attached to our heads, I didn’t feel like Higgs owed me a darn thing. Rather, I felt as though we’d finally connected on some level.

  But then the moment passed, and I grew embarrassed by the force of his appreciation and overwhelmed by the events of the night.

  Now I planted a hand on my hip, looking up at him and grinning. “Oh yeah, Higgs? How big is big? Is it drywall-and-drills big? Paint-a-room big? Fix-the-plumbing big?”

  He smirked at me, but his eyes danced with amusement. “It’s at least grab-a-cold-beer-and-supervise big,” he joked.

  And then the three of us laughed—even Coop, who did her best imitation of Joan Collins yet as she tipped her long neck back and let out the fakest, loudest giggle she’s ever attempted.

  And she was right. Laughter does make me happy. Even if it’s only Coop’s attempt at fitting in. That she was trying so hard made me even happier.

  But all of us laughing together after what we’d been through as of late?

  That was the best sound ever.

  Two weeks later…

  “Are you serious, Knuckles? Really?” I squealed.

  He pointed to the paper and nodded, smiling his huge grin down at me with the twinkle in his eye I’d come to love after spending so much time with him these last weeks. “This paper says I’m purty serious.”

  My mouth fell open and my heart flooded with all manner of emotions I didn’t know how to express.

  He nudged me and winked. “So no more worrying, okay?”

  I threw my arms around his wide waist and gave him a hug, burying my face in his T-shirt—a T-shirt that matched mine and read Inkerbelle’s Tattoos and Piercings. “I can’t believe you did this,” I said, my voice muffled by his barrel chest as tears threatened to escape my eyes.

  He put his hands on my arms and set me in front of him, his cheeks red with what I suspect was embarrassment. “Well, I did. Now, don’t we have some spaghetti to eat? I’m starving after all that hard labor you’ve been forcing me to endure. Let’s get outta here.”

  My head fell back on my shoulders and I laughed. “How will I ever thank you?”

  “By making this shop the best tattoo parlor in Cobbler Cove—maybe even in all of Portland. That’s how. Now, spaghetti?”

  Knuckles had bought the building from Crowley, and he was renting the space to us for even less than Coop had pressured Fergus into. It was such a kind gesture; I almost couldn’t speak.

  So instead, I grinned, something I’d found myself doing a lot these last two weeks since we’d begun to transform Inkerbelle’s. “Yes! Yes, I have an enormous batch of spaghetti and meatballs. Higgs loaned us a big table and chairs, and earlier, he hung up some lights in the square across the street. It’s beautiful.”

  And it was. I pointed across the street, where everyone had gathered at the long table. Twinkling lights hung from the big maple, a line of lanterns sat at the center of the table, where wine glasses were filled, music played, and the low hum of chatter resonated in my ears.

  Coop, our new friend Delores, and ten or so of our fellow business owners were all present to enjoy this day—with us—together. All the people who had dropped by to lend us a hand with the store clinked glasses, laughed, smiled.

  Even if the store wasn’t perfect just yet
, it was coming around, and that was what made it so beautiful—everyone in the neighborhood had chipped in and helped. At different times each day, one shop owner or another had shown up and grabbed a paintbrush or a hammer, and as a result, things were really looking up. I gazed around the space proudly.

  The walls were funky multi-colors of purple, orange and blue. Framed originals of some of my black-and-white sketches hung on one wall, and of course, Knuckles’s pictures with a zillion celebrities right alongside them.

  There was a puffy sectional sofa in royal blue Delores had so generously given us, packed with an array of throw pillows, where clients could sit and wait for their appointments. Cool, geometrically shaped tables in glass scattered about, holding tattoo magazines.

  The bathroom now worked, thanks to Fester Little, who owned the vacuum cleaner repair shop called Suck It Up down the way. Turned out, his father had been a plumber by trade, and not only did he fix the toilet, but he’d sold us some of the inventory his father had left behind after his death. That meant we had an old-school pedestal sink made of dark blue porcelain with gold fixtures.

  And lastly, we had our tattoo stations almost complete and, as word got around about our grand opening next week, we’d had several applicants, including a guy named Goose, who wasn’t just a character, but a close friend of Knuckles.

  Things were really looking up. Gone was the frustration of standing still, replaced by the thrill of seeing our hard work pay off.

  And now, tonight, as a way to not only celebrate and honor the people of our community who’d helped us, we were having a celebration for Higgs being cleared of all charges.

  It was in fact true, Jay had been laundering money for Fergus through the shelter, and it was in the quiet times when Higgs and I worked side by side, as he made good on his promise, that I felt his sadness over the devastating loss of his best friend. We hadn’t talked about it much, but he’d opened up a little, and that was enough for now.

  Iris, on the other hand, was in far worse shape than Jay could ever be. That everyone had thought she was still ill with cancer worked to her advantage in framing Higgs. Not even Higgs had thought her capable. In fact, he’d told me while he’d sat in jail that night, he’d dismissed the idea she could be a suspect entirely.

  But after several rounds of chemo and radiation, she’d beat her disease, and then set about getting her revenge. Posing as a homeless man was clever indeed, I’ll admit. Her voice was just deep and raspy enough for me to believe she was a man that night. Somehow, that she was a mother—even a murderous one—still left me with a tiny bit of sympathy for her. What I didn’t sympathize for her over, was what she’d done to Solomon. Though, she’d admitted to framing Higgs for the murder of Fergus McDuff to avenge her son Diego’s death without much pressure.

  There was still a trial to come—one I’d have to testify at. Higgs, too. But that was a little ways down the road. For now, Iris Santino was in jail awaiting trial, the last of the Blood Squad, family members or otherwise. And that made me breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Aw, look. It’s Solomon,” Knuckles said, pointing out the window to our friends across the street, putting an arm around my shoulder and giving me a squeeze. “He looks good, eh? How’s the nightmares?”

  I smiled even as I sighed. Solomon was better now, dressed in a pair of jeans that clearly weren’t his size and a button-up shirt I’d bought for him. The jeans sagged and wrinkled at his ankles, and the shirt wasn’t a perfect fit by a long shot. But he was clean and healthy, and at the shelter with Higgs for now.

  However, he’d gone through a really tough week after we’d caught Iris, where he’d spent a great deal of time lost in his own medieval world while he recuperated from pneumonia in the hospital. But he was coming around.

  Leaning into Knuckles, I said, “I think the nightmares are better, if his doctor is telling me the truth. But I also think he’s still coming to grips with the fact that he saw Iris kill Fergus through the window. He saw her hit Fergus with a hammer. That had to be awful.”

  From the bits and pieces I’d been able to gather from Solomon when I visited him in the hospital, he’d hidden from Iris, and was still hiding from her when he met me. But she’d found him the night she’d tried to kill us—he’d managed to get away from her momentarily, and that’s when he’d called out to me, but she caught back up to him moments before I found them.

  “Man, I’m sorry, kiddo. But he’s got you and Higgs. I have every faith you’ll help him mend, physically and mentally.”

  I patted his hand and smiled. I hoped for that, too.

  “And the tattoo? I see it’s healing nicely.”

  “It is! Didn’t Coop do an amazing job?” I held up my forearm for him to see the tattoo Coop had inked for me. Words I plan to do a better job of living by. Walk by faith. Not by sight, in a beautiful script with a cross I’d sketched myself.

  Sometimes, when everything is at its bleakest, when you couldn’t see the light all around you, you had to give faith a chance, and that’s what we’d done.

  “My girl sure has a way with ink.” Then Knuckles nodded to my foot and the black brace I wore. “How’s the foot today?”

  I grinned. Thankfully, it had been a clean shot through and through, with no residual damage. I’d heal up just fine, according to my doctor. “It’s good. Sort of awkward on a ladder, you know, but the boot will be off in two weeks. I’ll manage until then. So whaddya say we go have some spaghetti?”

  “Question?”

  “Shoot.”

  “Did you make the spaghetti?” Knuckles asked as he looked around at the work we’d done.

  I gave him the old eyeball of death. “Why ever do you ask, Donald P. Ledbetter?”

  “I ask, Sister Trixie Lavender, because I hear from Coop you can’t give that chicken noodle meatball soup away—not even to the stray cats. I’m just protecting my innards,” he teased, patting his belly.

  I held the door to the shop open for him and pointed across the street. “I can’t even believe the disrespect I get from you bunch. Get over there, mister, or you’ll get no supper at all!” I teased.

  He held out his beefy arm with a laugh and I threaded mine through it as we made our way across the street.

  Coop rushed up to me, her Inkerbelle’s T-shirt hugging her in all the right places, her standard happy grimace in place. “Did you hear? Knuckles bought the building! We don’t have to worry about our landlord anymore, Trixie Lavender. I love Knuckles. So-so much. I love our new house. I love our new store.”

  I smiled at her and squeezed her hand. “Me too, Coop. Aren’t we lucky?”

  She nodded rapidly, a new expression she’d been practicing while she worked on her smile. “The luckiest. And look,” she waved her arms upward at the lights, and then at all the people sitting at the table. “Everyone’s here and they’re lit.”

  I covered my mouth with my hand to keep from laughing out loud at her newest slang word. She’d found YouTube with a vengeance, and she’d peppered every conversation with a new word she’d learned since.

  “It’s definitely lit, Coop. Are you having a good time getting to know everyone?” The people of our community had welcomed Coop and her strange nature with open arms, and for that, I’d always be grateful.

  “Oh, I am. They’re on fleek. I love them, too. Not like Knuckles and Stevie. It’s different love. But I love them just the same. But you know what I love most?”

  “What’s that, Coop?” I asked, as I saw Detective Primrose and Higgs approaching us.

  Her eyes were bright, despite her expressionless gaze. “Spaghetti. I love that more than I even love my sword.”

  Wow. Big words from my demon. I grinned at her. “Then you’d better go get some, huh?”

  With that, she took off to grab a seat at the table next to Livingston, who had somehow managed to become the community mascot without saying a word—thankfully. He sat on the back of a chair, holding court while everyone ooed and ahhed over h
ow beautiful his feathers were.

  Of course, we’d never hear the end of it, but if he wasn’t complaining about something, he wouldn’t be our Livingston.

  “Hey, Trixie,” Higgs said with a wave of his hand and a warm smile. “I invited Tansy, too. Hope you don’t mind.”

  I smiled at the detective, so casual in her floral sundress and flat ballet slippers compared to her typical stoic black suits. “The more the merrier. She’s a part of our community, too,” I said with a smile. And I meant it.

  She gave me a skeptical look, her blonde hair lifting in the warm evening breeze. “Not everyone always feels that way, love, you know.”

  I gave her a confused look, as if I didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “Is that so, Detective Primrose? Well, you’re always welcome at Inkerbelle’s. Unless you’ve come to put me in the paddy. Then there’s no more spaghetti and wine for you.”

  She threw her head back and laughed, mouthing the words thank you before patting me on the shoulder and heading off to join the rest of our new friends, leaving just Higgs and me.

  As I looked at everyone laughing and chatting, and the Eagles played on some speakers Delores had brought, I sighed in contentment. “So how does it feel to be cleared of all charges, Cross Higglesworth?” I asked.

  “Better than being called a serial killer, Trixie Lavender.” And then he grinned, tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

  And I laughed before I sobered. “How are you feeling, Higgs?”

  He turned to me then, his eyes warm, and gave my shoulder the lightest of squeezes before letting go. “I feel pretty good, Trixie. Promise.”

  “And the tat Coop did for you?”

  He held up his arm with a grin to show me how she’d turned that tic-tac-doe sign into an extension of the rest of his tattoos. I don’t know how she did it, but it blended beautifully. Like mine, she’d done it with her special ink so Higgs would never be troubled with a demon at his doorstep.

  “All I have to say is Coop’s brilliant.”