by Morgana Best
The coffee shop lady was likewise muttering to herself, but more loudly. She sprayed the window to remove the grubby finger marks plastered all over it. “Bill,” she yelled, “leave that coffee machine and clean this table!”
Her husband, Bill, hurried out, and removed the plates and the mess of scattered food that the children had left, and then scurried away, while his wife turned her attention to scrubbing the table. Bill returned with a cordless vacuum cleaner, and went backward and forward over the floor.
As Fran, the owner, walked past me, she said, “You know, Rose, I can’t stand the buying public. The non-buying public is even worse.”
I nodded in sympathy. I often had difficult customers.
When they both went back behind the counter, Adam leaned over to me. “She was scary,” he said with a nervous chuckle.
I laughed. “That was nothing. Once a screaming child took the menu out of its glass case and took it into the bathroom. That was interesting.” I said it with humor, though the memory still haunted me.
Adam smiled. “I bet.”
“Anyway, I’m confused,” I continued. “Why did you come here looking for Dave? What does he have to do with the Shadow Gang?”
Adam frowned, and I thought for a minute he was going to refuse to tell me. “Honestly, I wanted to talk to Dave because I happened upon some evidence that suggested he might have been acting as their fence.”
I gasped. “You think he was selling the stolen jewelry for that gang?”
Adam nodded. “The problem I have now is that he’s not here to answer any questions about it. I’ve been working to try to find some kind of motive they would have had for killing him, but I’m just not sure what it could be. Why would they kill their own fence?”
I bit my lip and tried to think of reasons why a gang of robbers would murder Dave, especially if he was helping them sell their stolen goods. Something had to have happened between them. “Maybe Dave cheated them, or something,” I suggested.
“Yes,” Adam said. “That’s all that would make sense. What if Dave was indeed acting as their fence, but once they got caught and had to escape, he decided to skim a little bit more off the top for himself?”
I shook my head. “I always thought Dave was a really sweet man; I never pictured him as criminal.”
Adam shrugged. “You know, criminals often look like normal people; they don’t go around with the word criminal tattooed on their forehead. Haven’t you ever watched the news where reporters are interviewing the neighbors of someone who has just been arrested, and the neighbors always say that the person was a nice, helpful neighbor?”
“I suppose,” I said in agreement, though I still had trouble picturing Dave as a criminal.
“Perhaps he needed some extra money,” Adam continued. “I don’t know if he’d be brazen enough to try cutting further into their profits, but it’s impossible to know what a person will do when they’re forced to make difficult choices.”
I nodded.
“Okay. So, what do we know for a fact?” he continued. “We know Dave was murdered, and I suspect he was their fence. At any rate, the cops haven’t found the gang, so they must have a very good hiding place.”
“This might sound farfetched,” I ventured, “but maybe the new nuns are sheltering them or something. Do nuns shelter criminals? I think they did in the olden days.”
“That doesn’t sound all that farfetched,” Adam admitted. “To be honest, I was actually thinking the same thing. You had mentioned that the nun you saw that morning was wearing gym shoes and ran from the pawn shop, and that was a red flag to me, and anyone else who would believe the story, I suppose. Then, during our visit to the convent, you saw a nun with hairy legs, and that definitely furthered my belief in the idea that the nuns weren’t what they seemed to be.”
I was both puzzled and intrigued at the same time. “What do you mean?”
Adam leaned closer to me. “I think the nuns are men,” he whispered.
“Men?” I shrieked, and Fran shot me a look.
I grimaced and lowered my voice. “You think the nuns are men? Not nuns, but men?” I asked, trying to take it all in.
Adam nodded. “Think about it,” he said. “You saw a nun running from the scene. You saw a nun with hairy legs. I assume that means the nun’s habit was short?”
“Yes,” I said, still reeling from the shock. “Ill fitting, calf length.”
Adam nodded again. “It all makes sense. Nuns’ habits are floor length; they certainly don’t show calves. And it is strange that the nuns are wearing shoes, considering their order is discalced.”
“But Sister Maria said that it was only in the old days.”
Adam rubbed his chin. “Perhaps. But what if the novice nuns are actually the Shadow Gang members? What a perfect place to hide away, in a convent. That would explain why they are wearing traditional habits, to disguise the fact that they’re men.”
“Oh, and I forgot to tell you; there was a nun at the auction the other day,” I said.
Adam raised his eyebrows. “What? There was a nun at the auction?”
“Yes,” I said. “But she didn’t bid once.”
“That’s probably because the nun wasn’t there to buy anything. If we’re right about the gangsters hiding out, maybe that nun was there for a different reason. But, what would bank robbers be doing at an auction?”
I shook my head. “Do you really think a gang of notorious robbers would hide out in a convent and pretend to be nuns?” I asked. It seemed ridiculous. More ridiculous than this situation had been before, at any rate.
Adam took another sip of his coffee before responding. “Well, like I just said, it’s impossible to know how far someone will go when they have to make these kinds of tough choices.”
“What about the Reverend Mother, though? Wouldn’t she have noticed that the nuns are men? We’re outsiders to them, yet we were still able to see the differences in how they’ve been acting.”
“Hmm, that’s another valid point. Do you think there’s a chance she might be in on it? If Dave was willing to help them for a cut, would it be so wrong to think a nun would be willing to do so, too?”
The thought didn’t sit well with me. “I sincerely doubt it. I think it’s very unlikely that any person so devoted to their religion would commit such a sin. Is it possible? Yes, of course. Almost anything is, but do I think she’s in on it somehow? No, I certainly do not.”
“Okay, but like you just said: how would six convicted felons infiltrate a convent to hide out, without alerting the woman who is in charge of it? Do you honestly think they could fool her this long?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know the daily happenings in a convent; I’m not even Catholic. For all we know, Sister Maria might not actually interact with the novice nuns much at all. I just don’t think she’d be in on it. My heart doesn’t want to believe it,” I added. “First Dave’s unfortunate demise, and now all of this is happening.”
Adam smiled. “Well, I understand that. You’re probably right; it’s just so difficult to know what people will or won’t do. If Reverend Mother isn’t involved and isn’t even aware, then she could be in danger,” he added, his smile fading. “If we’re barking up the right tree here, that means a helpless nun is all alone in a convent with up to six hardened criminals.”
The thought sent chills down my spine. “Do you actually think they would harm a nun?”
“If they killed Dave for crossing them, I don’t think they’re above doing anything to anyone,” Adam said.
“Well, then whatever it is that we’re going to do next, we probably should do it soon.”
Adam appeared lost in thought for a while. “You said you saw a nun at the auction, right?” he asked, after several moments had passed. “Well, maybe our next step is finding out why that nun was there. Maybe we should go back to the auction house, together. We can ask around and see if that nun asked any questions or spoke to anyone at the auction that day. If we
can figure out what they’re up to, maybe we can also find a way to stop them before their plans come to fruition.”
I nodded.
“We just need to keep our heads low and be careful about how we approach this.”
I looked down at my cup and frowned. “I understand. I won’t say anything to anyone, but we need to act quickly. I’m worried about the Reverend Mother now, and about the town in general. Those men are dangerous; you said so yourself.”
“Yes, they are, but we’re not going to let them hurt anyone else. Tomorrow, we can head to that auction house and see if we can’t snoop around and find out why that nun was there.”
Chapter Nine.
The following morning, I met Adam outside my furniture store just after ten. Our plan was to visit the Phillips & Sons auction house to see if the staff would be willing to discuss any recent dealings between the nun and the auction house. I had no idea if the staff would be so forthcoming, but until Adam and I could find some tangible evidence, I knew that the cops would just laugh at me again.
Adam offered to drive, so I jumped into his Jeep and we headed north to the auction house. “So, how well do you know them? Do you think they’ll be willing to tell us why a nun was hanging around the establishment?” Adam asked.
I shrugged. I’d been going to the auctions for quite a while, but I didn’t know the staff too well - on the occasions that I had talked to them, most hadn't been especially friendly towards me, though there were a few exceptions. “It’s possible. I’m still a bit irritated that the police didn’t take me seriously when I told them that I’d seen a nun running away from Dave’s that morning.”
Adam looked over at me and frowned. “I’ve never laughed at you, have I?”
I smiled and shook my head.
“I believe you, and that’s what matters. With any luck, we can get some information that we can take to the police.” He smiled and glanced at me once more. “Either way, I think we’re on the right track with this, so even if you do get laughed at again, we can have the last laugh when this case is solved.”
I was encouraged by his words. “Thanks. I suppose you’re right. I just hope that if we’re right about this whole thing, no harm comes to the Reverend Mother. I’ve been worried all night thinking about that poor woman being in danger.”
“Hey, don’t be so worried,” Adam said, as he overtook a small car doing half the speed limit. “She’s been fine so far, so I think we need to just keep our minds clear and focused. If the police are more likely to laugh off actual leads than to follow them, then we’re the only ones that can stop those guys.”
“You really think a journalist and an upcycled furniture store owner can make a good enough team to take down a notorious gang of robbers?” It sounded more like the synopsis of a summer blockbuster than reality, but it was all actually happening. I turned toward Adam and sighed. “This is all so surreal.”
“Yes, it is, but that’s the world we live in nowadays.” Adam’s tone was solemn. “Society has become a little intoxicated with the idea of freedom; many people use those very freedoms that they’ve been afforded to deny others their own rights. That’s why this story is so important to me. I want to make a difference, as clichéd as that might sound.”
I smiled, but did not respond. I looked out the passenger window to see the trees zipping by in a blur as the car sped onward. The light blue sky appeared to be the backdrop to an enormous mountain of soft, fluffy clouds that slowly drifted in the distance. The contrast between the crawling clouds and the fast-moving trees was mesmerizing.
Adam pulled his car into the nearly empty parking lot, and we wasted no time heading inside. I led the way. “I know a few of the staff by name and have spoken to them a bit, but the only one who can probably help us is the manager, Mark Cornford.”
“I just hope we can get something out of them,” Adam said. “I suppose it’s illegal to give out a client’s information without permission.”
“Oh, dear, I’m sure you’re right.” I sighed.
“If you aren’t buying something at an auction, wouldn’t that imply that you were selling something instead?” asked Adam.
I hadn’t thought about it that way, but now that I did, I felt like a right idiot for not realizing it sooner. It was so obvious. At any rate, there was nothing else to do now but to push on. I continued toward the manager’s office in the back of the building. When we turned the corner, I saw a few of the staff unenthusiastically unpacking some items. “Let’s go ask them if the manager’s in.”
As we walked toward the workers, I heard Mark Cornford’s voice. “Excuse me? Is there anything I can help you two with?”
I turned. “Hi, Mark. I’m sorry to be wandering around back here, but we were just hoping to talk to you.”
“Ah, hello, Rose.” Mark smiled. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, looking over at Adam.
Adam and Mark shook hands. “My name’s Adam Bowen. I’m a journalist writing a book about crime. Rose recently attended one of your auctions, and we’d like to ask you a few questions about one of your patrons,” he said.
Mark frowned. “I’m sorry, but it’s against our policies to disclose such information.”
Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, we’re just trying to find out what’s going on. If you can’t help us, the police are going to have to get involved. Do you really want them milling around your business for days? I know how much red tape and paperwork is involved with selling secondhand goods.”
The manager looked somewhat agitated. “Okay, follow me to my office; we can talk about it there.” He led us down a long corridor.
When we reached his office, Mark gestured to two chairs behind his desk, and he himself took a seat. “You say you’re familiar with the red tape involved with selling secondhand goods, so you must know that we receive extensive paperwork on all stolen goods. We have to check those lists before we sell anything here. Secondhand dealers and auction houses have to be so careful with selling stolen goods, so if that’s what you’re going to ask about, I really doubt there can be any substance to such claims. We always go through all the appropriate channels and none of the merchandise we’ve sold recently has ever been listed as stolen.”
“Sure,” I said, “but it’s not about that. There was a nun at your last auction. We just need to know who that nun was, and what she was doing here, if you don’t mind telling us.”
“Nun?” Mark said. “You want to know about a nun?” His jaw fell open.
“If you could possibly tell us if a nun from the Sisters of Temperance convent sold any items here at the last auction, it would be a wonderful help,” Adam said.
Mark frowned for a while, and I doubted he would help us, but he finally punched some keys into his computer. “Sister Bertrand of the Sisters of Temperance convent sold six 18 karat gold chains, all without insurance certificates or valuation certificates,” he said. “Now, you didn’t hear this from me. I’m only telling you because Rose is a good, long term customer. Understood?”
“Yes, thank you so much, Mark,” I said gratefully.
Adam stood up. “Okay, thanks. That’s all the information we were looking for.” Adam extended his hand to Mark.
“May I ask how that information helps with your investigation?” Mark asked as they shook hands.
“It confirms our suspicions, but that’s all I can really say,” Adam said.
I thanked Mark again, and we walked back to Adam’s Jeep.
Adam spoke as soon as we were in the Jeep. “Now that we know this, it’s very likely that the nuns are indeed part of the gang, so we should probably go directly to the police.”
“So you really think that the nun was just one of the robbers in disguise, selling items through auction? And if they’re using Sister Bertrand’s name, where is the real Sister Bertrand?” I asked.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to jump to conclusions,” Adam said, “but I can’t honestly say it looks very good. Ther
e’s a chance they had to do away with her somehow.”
“Do away with?” I gasped. “Surely you don’t think that they…” My voice trailed away.
Adam glanced at me briefly, but then returned his eyes to the road. “I think if they were willing to hurt Dave to get their way, it is unlikely that they would stop there. I’ve said it before, and it’s always true. People won’t stop until they get what they’re after.”
I sighed. “So, is the police station our next stop?”
“Yes, but I’ll do most of the talking, if you’d prefer,” he said.
After arriving at the police station, we walked inside to see a heavy-set officer sitting behind an old desk that was covered with papers. I knew the officer as Constable Jones, one of the two officers who had interviewed me after Dave’s death. “Good afternoon, how may I help you?” he asked.
“Hi,” Adam began. “I’m a journalist in town writing a book about the Shadow Gang. I believe they’re hiding in the local convent.”
The officer stared straight at him without blinking for nearly a minute. I was perplexed, but I couldn’t imagine what Adam was thinking during that long stare down. Suddenly, the man burst out laughing and turned back to yell, “Hey Sergeant! Get over here. You have to hear this.”
Sergeant Barnes walked up to greet us at the front desk. “Hello, Rose Taylor, isn’t it?” he said. “I remember talking to you recently about Dave Jameson’s unfortunate death. May I ask what you and your friend just told my fellow officer that made him laugh so rudely?”
The other cop’s expression changed, and he stopped smiling.
“This is my friend, Adam Bowen, a journalist,” I said to Sergeant Barnes.
Barnes nodded at Adam. “How can I help you?”
“I’m writing a book about the Shadow Gang.”
Sergeant Barnes kept nodding.
“Well, I think that they might be hiding somewhere close,” Adam said. “We think that they’re somehow linked to the nuns at the convent. In fact, we think the bank robbers are disguising themselves as nuns.”
