Chris considered the view through the window beside him as he processed the information they’d already collected on the case. His car sat beside Shari’s in the parking lot behind the café. Beyond the lot, the tree-lined streets hosted mostly small businesses that already were decorated for Christmas weeks before Thanksgiving. Some of the stores had started posting their Christmas decorations right after Halloween. Was he the only one who found that commercial ploy obnoxious?
He turned back to his aunt and Shari. “We’ve been here less than an hour, and in that time, we’ve identified five possible suspects: Autumn’s ex-husband, his new wife, her business partner, someone with access to the resort’s accounts, and the company that offered to buy the resort. Are the deputies looking into these people as well?”
Shari finished her heavily doctored coffee. “I spoke with them this morning. They didn’t give me any information but I had the sense they were only looking at Sister Marianna.”
“We also need to speak with the employees.” Sister Lou leaned into the table and folded her arms on its surface.
“I thought they had alibis.” Chris frowned. “Several of them arrived together.”
Sister Lou pursed her lips in thought. “Autumn was murdered between six and seven in the morning. The killer could have left her office unseen and then entered the main resort cabin with a coworker, giving himself—or herself—an alibi.”
Shari blew a breath. “Wow, our list of suspects just got a lot longer.”
Sister Lou frowned. “And, as usual, time isn’t on our side.”
* * *
She couldn’t concentrate. Late Friday afternoon, Sister Lou gave up all pretense of productivity. She saved the electronic document she’d told herself she was drafting and pushed away from her desk. Restless, she wandered across the room. The thick rose carpeting was soft beneath her sensible black pumps.
Through her office’s rear window, Sister Lou studied the nearly naked maple trees that stood beside the winding driveway. Along the rolling lawn, dying and detached autumn leaves tumbled and tossed in the faint breeze. A deep breath released the knotted muscles in her neck and shoulders. The white tea scent from the tiny basket of potpourri that stood on a corner of her desk soothed her.
It had been more than an hour since she’d returned from meeting with Chris and Shari at the Briar Coast Café. Parts of their conversation still played on a loop in her mind.
Wow, our list of suspects just got a lot longer.
And, as usual, time isn’t on our side.
Her shoulder muscles tensed again. She lifted her gaze to the cloud-covered gray sky. “I don’t know what to do. So many people are depending on me, but I feel inadequate to this task. I need Your guidance. Help me to understand what I’m meant to do.”
The knock on her half-open door surprised her. She looked at her crimson wristwatch. It was a few minutes past four in the afternoon.
“Come in.” She turned toward the door.
Sister Marianna walked in. Sister Lou went cold at the expression on the other woman’s face. The aggressive force of nature she’d come to know and try to love was absent. She didn’t recognize the uncertain, confused, and frightened person who’d entered her office.
“Marianna, what is it?”
“Louise, I need your help.”
Chapter 18
Sister Lou gestured to the cushioned seats in front of her desk. She watched in growing apprehension as Sister Marianna walked toward them on unsteady legs, then collapsed onto the closest one.
“What’s happened, Marianna?” Sister Lou resumed her seat behind her desk.
Sister Marianna drew a shaky breath. “The sheriff’s deputies came here—to my office—to interrogate me.” Her gray eyes were wide with disbelief. Her voice strained with incredulity. “Me.”
Dread left a metallic taste in Sister Lou’s mouth. “What did they ask you?”
“They wanted to know about my scarf, what it was made of, the design, the length, and when was the last time I’d used it.” Her eyes seemed to plead with Sister Lou. “Louise, they swabbed the inside of my mouth.”
They have Marianna’s DNA!
Sister Lou’s mind wiped blank. She pressed against her chair’s padded back. The deputies were putting all of their efforts on Sister Marianna. Why won’t they even consider any of the leads I’ve offered them? “Start from the beginning and tell me everything the deputies said to you.”
Sister Marianna made a visible effort to pull herself together. Against the material of her navy skirt suit, her already pale skin appeared almost translucent. Her deep breaths caused her shoulders and chest to rise, then abruptly drop.
“All right. They arrived shortly after three o’clock.” Sister Marianna folded her hands together on her lap. The skin above her knuckles showed white. “I escorted them back to my office from the reception area and they immediately went on the attack. I find it impossible to believe that Deputy Tate was educated in a Catholic institution. He is an especially odious man.”
Finally, something on which we can agree.
Sister Marianna continued, “They asked me where I was Monday morning at the time that Autumn was murdered. Then they told me they were continuing their search for the murder weapon. That’s when they pulled out a very large cotton applicator and demanded a sample of my DNA. The entire process was demeaning, demoralizing, and invasive.”
Continuing their search. Why had the deputies gone back to the scene of the crime?
“But they haven’t found a scarf?” Sister Lou was grasping at straws but even small details mattered.
“No, they have not. I also told them that I knew that they were very well aware of the fact that I’d misplaced mine.”
“What was their response?”
“They said that they were confident they’d find it. Once they did, they’d send it to their forensics lab for testing. They said they wanted me to be aware of that. Why? Why would I need to be aware of that?” Sister Marianna’s voice rose in near hysteria.
“Marianna, stay with me. I need you to continue to concentrate.” Sister Lou considered everything Sister Marianna had just told her as she rolled her pen between her right thumb and index finger.
Why are they still so focused on Marianna and her scarf ?
“Louise, they were so feral.” Sister Marianna interrupted the heavy silence.
Sister Lou’s mind worked to find the missing pieces of this dire puzzle. “Someone’s framing you, Marianna.”
“What?”
Sister Lou waited for her hearing to return. “The deputies want to believe our congregation is somehow involved in this tragedy and someone is feeding their conspiracy.”
“But how do I prove my innocence when someone is deliberately trying to make me look guilty?” The fear was stark on Sister Marianna’s face and in her voice.
Who could blame her?
Sister Lou stood to pace the room. “Chris, Shari, and I have started investigating Autumn’s murder.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Cautious relief crept into Sister Marianna’s words.
Sister Lou turned to pace back toward her desk. She stopped an arm’s length from Sister Marianna’s chair. “Where were you the morning Autumn was murdered?”
The other woman’s expression closed. “I told you. I was running late. I overslept.”
Sister Lou shook her head. “You never oversleep. If you want us to help clear your name, you have to confide in us. We can’t prove your innocence if you keep us in the dark.”
Sister Marianna returned Sister Lou’s stubborn stare. Finally, she leaned back on her seat, crossing her arms and legs. “Very well. If you must know, I was sulking.”
The image of Sister Marianna sulking wasn’t any more believable than her excuse of oversleeping. “Why?”
Sister Marianna threw up her hands. “Because Barbara assigned you to assist me with the retreat, and you seemed to be taking over the event planning. It was my project. I
asked Paula and Angela to meet with me to give me their insight. That was about seven-thirty Monday morning.”
Sister Lou was taken aback. She returned to her desk, searching her mind for a suitable response and coming up with . . . nothing. “I’m sorry that Barb’s decision caused you pain, Marianna. I’m sorry for my part in that. But, unfortunately, your feelings haven’t given you an alibi, though. The deputies will claim that, although the timing would have been tight, you could have killed Autumn at six o’clock and returned in enough time to meet Paula and Angie by seven-thirty.”
Sister Marianna shifted forward on her seat. “I want to help with the investigation.”
Oh, now that would be unwise. “That won’t be necessary, thank you. Chris, Shari, and I can handle it.”
“Ridiculous.” Sister Marianna tossed her hand in a cutting gesture, a clear indication that she’d regained her self-assurance. Sister Lou felt equal parts of relief and regret. “This investigation is to clear my name. I should definitely be involved.”
“Actually, Marianna, this investigation is about finding Autumn’s killer. That’s the only way we can repair the congregation’s reputation.”
Steely determination glinted in Sister Marianna’s gray eyes. “What’s our next step?”
Sister Lou swallowed a sigh. To paraphrase Star Trek: The Next Generation, resisting Sister Marianna was futile.
How am I going to explain this to Chris and Shari?
* * *
Shari closed the passenger-side door of Sister Lou’s orange compact car late Saturday afternoon and waited as Sister Lou emerged from behind the steering wheel. Sister Lou had driven the two of them to January Potts’s house Saturday morning. The ride had been an adventure.
“We must have made it here in record time.” Shari was still reeling from Sister Lou’s driving and her announcement that Sister Marianna had invited herself to join their amateur sleuth team. “How exactly does Sister Marianna want to help us?”
Sister Lou adjusted the strap of her navy blue purse on her right shoulder as she walked down the tree-lined block toward the Potts’s residence. “She wants to participate in our interviews, help with research, and attend our status meetings.”
“Oh wow.” Dazed, Shari fell into step beside her friend. Together, they navigated the minefield of running, screaming, laughing children. It was still early in the day. Shari wondered about the quantity of sugar the children had already consumed.
Sister Lou just smiled. Shari considered her friend’s serene expression. On the surface, Sister Lou seemed at peace with this unexpected event. Shari hadn’t realized the other woman was such an accomplished actress.
“Does Chris know Sister Marianna’s going to be helping us? I got the impression they don’t get along.”
“I told him this morning. They’ll be fine.” Her mysterious smile suggested otherwise. “Here we are.”
Shari set aside her doubts and prepared for the upcoming interview.
The Potts residence stood on the corner of the block. It was a big Craftsman-style stone home with dark brown wood trim and a low-pitched brown roof. Shari followed Sister Lou up the stairs to the wide, stone front porch and waited while she rang the doorbell.
Minutes later a tall woman with dark blue eyes and a cap of light brown hair opened the door. Irritability marred her thin features. “May I help you?”
Her navy blue slacks and soft white long-sleeved jersey looked expensive, too expensive for puttering around the house. Was she on her way out?
Sister Lou gave the other woman a friendly smile. “Mrs. Potts, I’m Sister Lou LaSalle, and this is my friend Sharelle Henson. I was one of your cousin’s clients.”
January Potts barely glanced at Shari. She gave Sister Lou a dismissive look. “I had nothing to do with my cousin’s business. You’d be better off speaking with her partner, Rita Morris. I’m sure you can reach her through the resort.”
“We’ve actually met.” Impressively, Sister Lou’s smile remained in place. “You may not recall, but I remember you. I was the client in Autumn’s office when you came to discuss a rather personal matter with her.”
January’s face flooded with embarrassed color. Shari wished she’d witnessed the confrontation that caused the other woman such discomfort. She almost felt sorry for her. Almost.
“Oh yes. I remember now.” January’s voice cooled even as her face heated. Neat trick.
Sister Lou nodded toward Shari. “We wanted to express our condolences on your loss.”
January considered them for a brief, silent moment before stepping back. Her movements were almost insultingly stiff. “Come in.”
Shari followed Sister Lou across the threshold. The house’s open floor plan was more space than Shari had ever seen in one person’s home—or even in a furniture store. She adjusted the strap of her oversized olive green handbag farther up her shoulder as she followed their unwilling hostess into her foyer. January’s white canvas shoes were silent against the honey wood flooring. Shari froze on the edge of the spacious foyer.
The room looked as though someone had spilled bubble bath all over it with vicious abandon. Everything was a nauseating shade of pink. Thick rouge drapes framed sheer blush curtains that allowed natural light to flood the square room. Salmon throw pillows nestled on the rose sofa and matching armchairs. Shari was reluctant to sit.
Sister Lou didn’t appear distracted by the abundance of pink. She took off her brown wool winter coat and rested it on the arm of the sofa. Shari debated sitting on her emerald coat before reconsidering. She tentatively lowered herself beside Sister Lou and folded the garment across her thighs. By letting them keep their coats, January avoided giving the mistaken impression that they were welcome in her home.
Sister Lou set her handbag on her lap. The dark blue material complemented her pale green sweater, one of her new more colorful pieces of clothing. “We felt compelled to pay our respects to you on the death of your cousin. Based on your recent exchange, though, it doesn’t appear that the two of you were close.”
“We used to be.” The expression in January’s dark blue eyes was an odd combination of defiance and embarrassment. On the overstuffed pink armchair, she looked like she’d settled onto a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.
“What changed?” To her knowledge, Shari didn’t have any living relatives, but she couldn’t imagine being so distant in response to their death.
January’s smile was cool, her eyes colder. “Didn’t your friend tell you? Autumn slept with my husband.”
Sister Lou shifted on the thick, frilly rose sofa to better face January. “Autumn and I talked after you left. She denied your accusation.”
“Of course she would.” January sneered as though she thought Sister Lou was as dumb as a stone. Shari disliked the woman even more. “Quite frankly, I’d lost respect for her.”
“That’s unfortunate. May I ask what happened?” Sister Lou sounded genuinely concerned. Shari made a mental note to ask how she managed that.
She concentrated on evaluating their suspect and her environment as meticulously as she was certain Sister Lou was doing right now. The sister had mad powers of observation. What did she really think of the pink theme? What was her assessment of the framed displays of dried roses and flowers that covered the pale pink walls? What did they symbolize? Was January a gardener? Or perhaps those roses and flowers were from bouquets her husband had given her during happier times in their apparently disintegrating marriage.
January exhaled an impatient breath. “Autumn’s husband left her for a younger woman about five years ago. I learned that, ever since her divorce was finalized, she’d had a string of one-night stands—all with married men. It was as though she was trying to be the other woman her husband had left her for. That’s just pathetic.”
“I see.” Sister Lou’s tone told Shari she didn’t “see” anything.
Shari would have to wait to ask her friend what she was actually thinking. For now, she’d just follow h
er lead. “It’s too bad that your cousin slept with your husband. That’s a big betrayal, but it takes two to tango. I’m surprised you haven’t left him.”
January looked taken aback by Shari’s directness. “I threw him out two weeks ago.”
Shari pounced on the information. “Two weeks? But your husband was your alibi for the morning Autumn was murdered.”
“Alibi?” January gave a humorless laugh. “Why would I need an alibi? I didn’t murder my cousin.”
“You threatened to kill her.” Sister Lou offered the reminder.
Shari tilted her head. “If you weren’t making breakfast for your husband Monday morning, what is your alibi for your cousin’s time of death?”
“Did you come to my home to accuse me of murder?” January sat straighter on her armchair. Her gaze moved between Sister Lou and Shari. “Those were words spoken in anger. They weren’t to be taken seriously. I did not kill Autumn.”
“Who would want to kill your cousin, Mrs. Potts?” Sister Lou asked.
“She really had you snowed, didn’t she?” January sneered at them as though she thought Shari and Sister Lou were gullible marks. “Autumn wasn’t some kind of saint, you know. Plenty of people had reasons to want her dead.”
Shari spread her hands. “We’re all ears.”
January looked startled. “Maybe one of her lovers.”
Shari frowned. “You mean, like your husband?”
Sister Lou spoke over January’s outraged gasp. “When did you discover that Autumn was having an affair with your husband?”
January’s dark eyes flared as though the question brought back the memory of her discovery. “Three weeks ago. About.”
“Right before you confronted Autumn.” Sister Lou seemed to already know the answer. She was after a confirmation only.
“That’s right.” January nodded once. The movement was jerky, as though her temper was rising. “I went to face her the next day—after I threw out my adulterous husband. I didn’t waste any time putting an end to their lying and cheating.”
Peril & Prayer Page 15
