Shari’s cheeks flushed and she lowered her eyes. It was apparent that the reporter couldn’t see what others saw in her: strength, intelligence, kindness. Hopefully, in time she’d realize that and so much more.
Sister Lou turned her attention to the paintings that hung on the warm yellow walls of her cozy little sitting room. The soothing religious scenes and landscape images helped clear her mind. “How should we approach this investigation?”
Shari raised her gaze to Sister Lou’s. “I’ll check out the Telegraph’s archives and learn everything I can about Autumn Tassler and her resort.”
“Thank you, dear. That would be wonderful.” Sister Lou was already gaining confidence in their mission.
Chris cocked his head. “Have you identified other possible suspects?”
Sister Lou placed her hands on the arms of her chair. The overstuffed cushions were soft to her touch. “I told the deputies that Autumn’s cousin, January Potts, accused Autumn of having an affair with her husband and threatened to kill her. She’s at the top of my list.”
Shari blinked. “No doubt.”
Chris’s eyes were wide with disbelief. “Why isn’t she on the top of the deputies’ list?”
“Deputy Tate said she has an alibi, her husband.” Sister Lou spread her hands. “She claims she was helping him get ready for work and making his breakfast at the time Autumn was being murdered.”
Shari turned to Chris. “If you were married and your wife accused you of having an affair, would you eat the breakfast she made for you?”
Chris gave Shari a cautious look. “Remind me to stay on your good side.”
“I’m serious.” Shari raised her hands. “Her alibi is suspicious.”
Sister Lou had the same suspicions. “Unless he doesn’t know she suspects him of having an affair. Let’s find out.”
Shari rubbed her hands together. “It’s exciting to have the team back together.”
Sister Lou shared Shari’s enthusiasm. “I appreciate your help. We’re stronger together.”
“Yes, we are.” Chris echoed their sentiment, but Sister Lou heard the hesitancy in his voice and knew he was still worried.
Sister Lou understood his unease. Are we in over our heads?
* * *
“We should train for next year’s marathon.” Sister Carmen’s proposal startled Sister Lou from her thoughts during their early Friday morning jog.
“What brought this on?” Sister Lou gaped at her exercise partner.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” Sister Carmen’s short raven curls bounced around her round face as she kept pace with Sister Lou. “I’ve estimated that we’ve been jogging thirty miles a week for the past seven years. How much more would we have to run to train for a marathon?”
Sister Lou jogged up the winding driveway that led from the motherhouse toward the visitor parking lot that separated the congregation from the College of St. Hermione of Ephesus.
It sounded so reasonable when Sister Carmen explained it that way. But... “Running a marathon is a huge achievement. It’s not something we can take lightly.”
Sister Carmen snorted. “Seven years of dedicated running isn’t taking anything lightly.”
“When’s the marathon?” Sister Lou felt the walls of inevitability closing in on her.
“The end of May.”
Sister Lou was loath to squash the hope she heard in Sister Carmen’s voice. “I’ll think about it.”
“Don’t take too long. Registration goes up five dollars each month.”
Sister Lou was tempted to decline now and save the money. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“In the meantime, you keep speeding up. What’s wrong?”
Tension was returning to Sister Lou’s shoulders. The confidence that had been building yesterday evening as she’d brought the amateur sleuth team back together had evaporated when her radio alarm clock went off this morning. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
“You’re running five miles, and I’m running them with you.” Sister Carmen’s flippant response tempted Sister Lou to turn around and go back to bed.
“Carm.” Sister Lou used her warning voice.
“Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” Sister Carmen tossed her a cheeky grin. “What’re you talking about?”
Sister Lou looked ahead to the parking lot that separated the congregation’s property from the college’s campus. Mission-style wrought-iron lampposts lit their improvised jogging course in the predawn shadows. Sister Carmen’s neon orange wicking jersey also kept the darkness at bay. She practically glowed. In comparison, Sister Lou’s gray jersey was lost in the shadows.
“Chris and Shari have agreed to help me investigate Autumn Tassler’s death—”
“That’s fantastic news!” Sister Carmen’s coffee brown eyes sparkled in the dim light. “How did you get Chris to agree?”
“As soon as he learned that the deputies were focusing on Marianna, he agreed to help.” Sister Lou drew in a deep breath, filling her lungs with cool morning air and familiar fall scents—moist earth and faded leaves.
Sister Carmen sobered. “The threat to Marianna makes it personal to all of us.”
“It also makes it more urgent.” Sister Lou felt the strain.
“You’re right. There’s a lot at stake.”
Sister Lou gave a mental groan. “Marianna’s reputation, the congregation’s reputation, and donors for the congregation as well as the college. What made me think I could do this?”
“Do you have a choice?” Sister Carmen’s voice was somber.
They jogged in silence for a time, their pace perfectly synchronized after seven years of exercising together. The path was silent except for the periodic crunching of fall leaves under their running shoes. They climbed the incline on their way to the college’s residence halls, leaning in and shortening their strides.
“Is it true that some of the college’s donors want the college to separate from the congregation?” Sister Carmen managed the question as they crested the short hill.
“It’s true.” The idea still hurt Sister Lou’s heart. Did those donors realize what they were asking? The congregation had founded the college and was still very much involved in its well-being.
As they circled the residence halls, Sister Lou glanced up and scanned the windows. Most of them were dark as students remained safe and warm in their beds. Not surprising; it wasn’t yet six o’clock. But a few rooms were lit. Either those students left desk lamps on or there was a small group of early risers, hitting the books.
“We have to clear Marianna’s name. Soon.” Sister Carmen’s declaration cut short Sister Lou’s musings.
“I agree, but it will take me forever to learn about Autumn before I even start investigating.” From her peripheral vision, Sister Lou caught Sister Carmen’s quick glance.
“Then get to know her while you work the case.” Sister Carmen’s use of the law enforcement slang reminded Sister Lou that her friend enjoyed police procedural TV shows. “Besides, it’s not just what you know. Your strength is what you observe. That’s how you solved Maurice’s murder.”
“I hadn’t considered that my strength.” Am I like Shari in that I’m not aware of how people view me? “I don’t want to disappoint anyone.”
Sister Carmen snorted again. “You’re not disappointing us. We just want you to try. The only person you’d possibly disappoint would be yourself.”
There was that.
* * *
Never let them see you sweat.
First thing Friday morning, Shari stood on the threshold of the bullpen in the sheriff’s office. She inconspicuously inhaled a deep, steadying breath. She could almost taste the warm pastries and fresh coffee. How could a sheriff’s office smell like a bakery? She’d bet cash money that no other law enforcement office in the country smelled like this one.
She spotted Deputy Fran Cole and her partner, the ever-grumpy Deputy Ted Tate, at their respective desks toward
the center of the room.
Shari swaggered up to them. Her sky blue stilettos tapped a cocky tattoo against the silver marble flooring. “Morning, Deputies. How’s the case going? Any leads?”
Ted spun on his desk chair to face Shari. He gave her a wide-eyed look of mock surprise. “You’re asking us for a lead on a murder investigation? But we thought you, Sister Lou, and Chris LaSalle were the crack detectives.”
“Wow, you guys are really thin-skinned, aren’t you?” Shari glanced at Fran, who seemed absorbed with something on her desktop computer. She turned again to Ted. “So is that a no, you don’t have any leads?”
“None that we’re going to share with you.” Ted gave her a look that was even more belligerent than his normal expression.
Shari bit back an irritated sigh. “The first forty-eight hours of a murder investigation are the most critical. It’s been four days.”
“Thanks for the update,” Fran responded without looking away from her computer monitor.
Shari gave the taciturn Ted a hard look. “Have you lost weight?”
Ted straightened on his chair and sent a self-conscious look toward his partner. “A little.”
“Well, good for you. Must be torture resisting those pastries.”
Ted gave her a noncommittal grunt.
Shari turned away to scan the bullpen. The sunny yellow walls and white trim were uncharacteristically cheerful for a law enforcement bullpen. The low level of activity that hummed around the room wasn’t surprising. Briar Coast wasn’t exactly a hotbed of criminal activity. Speeding, vandalism, and jaywalking usually topped the police blotters that ran in the Telegraph. The two murders during her time here were tragic outliers.
As everyone in town liked to remind their neighbors, Briar Coast had had only three murders in the past eight years, with the last two occurring in the past three months.
Shari returned her attention to the uncooperative deputies. “Do you have any suspects other than Sister Marianna Tuller?”
Fran looked away from her computer file long enough to send her a baleful look. “You’ve been talking with Sister Lou.”
Shari considered the tall, slender deputy, from the disorderly blond hair struggling to stay together at the base of her neck to her tan sheriff’s shirt. “Why do the two of you always fixate on the congregation? Bad memories of Catholic school?”
Fran returned to her computer monitor.
“Why are you here?” Ted rescued the deep red McIntosh apple from beneath a pile of papers and folders on his table. He tossed it back and forth between his hands.
Shari gestured toward the fruit. “Is that what’s keeping you away from the pastries? Kind of a poor substitute, huh?”
Ted glowered at her and returned the apple to his desk. “What d’you want?”
Shari waved her reporter’s notebook. “I’m covering the investigation for the Telegraph. Do you have anything for me?”
Fran looked up again. Her green eyes scrutinized Shari. “You, Sister Lou, and Chris are investigating this case as well, aren’t you?”
“Don’t you people have enough to do?” Ted was disgusted.
Shari sighed. “I’ve got an article to file for my paper.” And if she didn’t get a quote from at least one of the deputies, Diego would make her wish she’d never heard of the Telegraph.
“You write stories.” Fran’s tone was less than complimentary. “Sister Lou saves souls. Chris raises money. We’re the ones who investigate murders.”
Shari spread her arms. “Then tell me about your investigation so I can write my story.”
Ted grunted. “Why should we?”
“I’d expect that response from a seven-year-old.” Shari rolled her eyes. “Prove to me that you’re too evolved to hold childish grudges.”
“We don’t have anything to prove.” Fran’s attention was still on her monitor as though Shari’s presence in the bullpen didn’t register with her anymore.
“Fine.” Shari threw her hands up. “But this town needs to feel safe. They need to know their law enforcement is doing everything they can to find whoever murdered Autumn Tassler.”
“And we are.” Fran’s tone was sharp.
“Like what?” Shari responded in kind. “What are you doing to find the killer hiding in plain sight in this community?”
Ted turned on her. “You can’t come in here, demanding answers.”
Shari stepped closer to his desk and leaned in. “I want answers. My readers deserve information. Are you going to give me an update or not?”
Ted held her gaze with his cold gray eyes. “No comment.”
Shari straightened and looked toward Fran. No response there, either. She inclined her head. “All right. I’ll let my readers know that the Briar Coast County sheriff’s deputies assigned to the case have confirmed that they haven’t made any progress.”
She turned to march out of the bullpen. She didn’t have to wonder about Diego’s reaction to her update. She knew it wouldn’t be pretty.
Chapter 17
Two o’clock on a Friday afternoon was an off-hour for the Briar Coast Café. The eatery was crowded, but less so than Chris was used to seeing it.
He sat with Sister Lou and Shari at a blond wood table near a window toward the front of the café. Chris took a deep drink of the dark roast coffee, black, no sugar, that filled his white porcelain mug. His aunt was drinking unsweetened chai tea, but Shari also had chosen coffee. He’d watched in horror as she’d added sugar, French vanilla–flavored cream, and cinnamon to her hazelnut coffee. The brew danced a fine line between coffee and candy.
He lowered his mug and his gaze shifted to the thick unfrosted brownie on the delicate white porcelain plate in front of him. He cut a piece with his fork. Its fresh-from-the-oven scent exploded toward him. It became part of the enticing fragrance of warm pastry, cinnamon, chocolate, confectioners’ sugar, and butter that swam around the café. The treat was rich and sweet to his taste buds. Its texture was soft and moist in his mouth.
Beneath those bakery scents, Chris detected the aromas that lingered from the lunchtime crowd: fresh vegetables, soups, and well-seasoned meats.
“I know it hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet, but have you learned anything that could give us a starting point?” Sister Lou’s brownie had both chocolate chips and walnuts.
Shari pulled a notebook from her oversized olive green handbag. Before opening the notebook, she swallowed a bite of her chocolate chip and walnut brownie with sour cream frosting. Looking at it made Chris’s teeth hurt. She hastily swallowed. “I did an Internet search of Autumn Tassler and the resort. She opened her place three years ago.”
Chris drank a mouthful of his hot, strong coffee. The mug was warm in his palms. “I remember. The Telegraph ran an announcement about the opening, but the article focused more on the resort. It didn’t have much information on Autumn.”
“That’s why I widened my search beyond the Telegraph’s archives.” Shari licked frosting from the corner of her mouth. “Autumn Tassler was an interesting person.”
“In what way?” Sister Lou sat forward.
Chris could see and feel his aunt’s interest. She wore a pale pink blouse with her brown pantsuit. He’d noticed that she’d started adding brighter colors to her outfits. Was that Shari’s influence?
Shari looked up from her notebook. “Autumn married Roy Fortney when she was twenty-six. He decided to go back to school for his master’s in finance degree and she worked two jobs to support them and help him with his tuition.”
“That’s a lot of responsibility.” Chris had a feeling this wasn’t a happy story.
“I know. Unfortunately, her sacrifices weren’t appreciated.” Shari’s chocolate brown eyes promised retribution for all unappreciated wives. “After Autumn supported his education and helped him build a successful company, Roy filed for divorce and married a much younger woman.”
Sister Lou shook her head in disgust. “Such a shame.”
&nbs
p; “I’m sure he thought that every time he wrote her alimony check.” Shari’s dry tone brought a smile to Chris’s face.
Sister Lou smiled as well. “How did she come to start her resort?”
Shari sipped her candied coffee. “It seems to have taken her five years to get her act together. Her monthly alimony was pretty significant.”
“She deserved it.” Chris finished his first mug of coffee. He wanted another but Shari’s report was too compelling for him to excuse himself to return to the coffee station.
Shari continued, “She used her alimony to get her MBA and open her resort. Her ex-husband was still paying her alimony, which she apparently reinvested in her resort.”
Chris’s attention perked up even more. He scanned the room to make sure no one in the café was eavesdropping. “That gives her ex-husband motive. Maybe he didn’t want to continue the alimony payments.”
“It also gives his new wife a motive.” Sister Lou sipped thoughtfully from her mug of tea. “She probably didn’t like the fact that her husband was still paying alimony to his ex-wife.”
Chris inclined his head. “Good work, Shari.”
“That was an excellent report.” Sister Lou smiled. “Thank you. There’s something we need to follow up on, though.”
“What’s that?” Chris finished off his brownie.
Sister Lou cradled her mug between her small palms. “Rita Morris, Autumn’s business partner, said the resort was making very little money. That was one of the reasons she wanted to sell it. But if the resort is booked solid with events from all over this region and Autumn is reinvesting in it, why is it losing money?”
Shari frowned. “Do you think someone’s cooking the books?”
“It’s possible.” Sister Lou finished her brownie, then washed it down with the rest of her unsweetened chai tea. “Autumn didn’t want to sell the resort, though.”
Shari’s winged eyebrows took flight. “Do you think that gives Rita a motive for murder? She wanted to sell but Autumn didn’t?”
“It’s possible.” Sister Lou spread her hands. “I sensed tension between them. But if we’re looking at Rita for the sale, we should also look at Crane Enterprises, the company that wanted to buy the resort.”
Peril & Prayer Page 14
