Peril & Prayer

by Olivia Matthews

  The fine lines across Kelsey’s brow deepened as she considered Shari’s question. “No, I don’t really think so. She may have come once or twice before. Why? Is it really important?

  “Probably not.” Sister Lou sighed. Her frustration mounted as she tried to find clarity over the motivation behind Autumn’s murder.

  Her gaze wandered the resort’s lobby. A few guests were coming in and out of the main cabin and crossing between rooms. It was a warm, welcoming space. Sister Lou could see its potential for great success. She was sorry that Autumn wouldn’t realize that dream. What would happen to the resort now?

  She turned her attention to Kelsey again. “Rita said Autumn told you everything.”

  “Did she say that really?” The pink flush filling Kelsey’s cheeks enhanced her Kewpie doll appearance. “Well, I really don’t know about that.”

  “Did Autumn mention anything to you about her relationship with her cousin? Do you know if she was having trouble with anyone else?”

  “No.” Kelsey’s eyes widened as though in distress. “Although, she did have an argument with her ex-husband’s new wife a couple of days before she was killed. I don’t really know what that was about.”

  Sister Lou suspected that Kelsey was aware of the topic of the other women’s argument. The nagging feeling returned that there was something else Kelsey knew but wasn’t ready to discuss. What could Sister Lou do or say to persuade the other woman to be more forthcoming? “Autumn deserves justice, Kelsey. That’s all we’re after and the reason we’re asking you these questions.”

  Kelsey nodded. “That’s all I really want, too. Justice for Autumn.”

  Then why did Sister Lou have the impression there was someone else the other woman was trying to protect?

  Chapter 23

  “Why are you keeping secrets?” Shari crossed her legs, smoothing the material of her cobalt blue pants as she sat on the other side of Diego’s desk in his office early Friday morning.

  “What secrets?” Diego looked fresh and alert in a baby blue shirt paired with a crimson tie. His large, white ceramic coffee mug was within easy reach of his right hand.

  “I’m convinced that you and Mayor Stanley have baggage.”

  “I’ve told you that we don’t.”

  Shari took a sip of coffee from her own mug, the one Diego had given her when she’d returned to the newspaper in October. “Then why did you assign me to spy on her?”

  “I didn’t.”

  “That’s how it feels.”

  Diego continued as though she hadn’t interrupted him. “I asked you to monitor the mayor’s and town council’s offices for suspicious activities”

  “And I found something, just as you expected me to.”

  “I know.” Diego lowered his eyelids as though he was trying to mask his frustration.

  Shari didn’t feel a need to mask hers. “Then confront Mayor Stanley. Tell her you think the town council president is trying to undermine her authority.”

  “She wouldn’t believe me.”

  “Why not—if, as you say, the two of you don’t have a history?” Shari was certain she’d caught him in his deceit. If she weren’t so irritated, she’d be gloating.

  Diego gave her a cautious look. “When I was a reporter in El Paso, I uncovered government corruption in the local agency she worked for. She was meant to take the fall but, luckily, the investigation found that her boss had set her up.”

  “Did your article name her as a suspect?” A reporter’s nightmare: getting the story wrong and hurting innocent people in the process.

  “Initially.” Diego’s regret still lingered in his sigh. “In subsequent articles, I stated that her boss was charged with the crime, but by then, the damage had been done.”

  “So you do have a history, and it’s a negative one.”

  Diego sipped his coffee. It was an obvious stalling tactic. “We’ve crossed paths before and, no, it didn’t end well. But that’s in the past and better left there.”

  Shari blinked. That’s what she’d been telling Chris about herself, but perhaps the college administrator had a point. She could see how Diego’s past still affected him. He seemed remorseful. Had he had feelings back in the day for their stunning mayor? Had his coverage of her agency prevented him from pursuing those feelings?

  She’d probably never know the answers to those questions, but she wanted to know one thing. “Did you follow Mayor Stanley to Briar Coast?”

  “Yes.” His tone closed the door on that line of inquiry.

  Shari respected his privacy—for today. “So far, I haven’t found anything else that raises a red flag. The council’s and mayor’s agendas match up for the most part. Their budget projections are similar.”

  “Similar but not the same.” Diego’s eyes held hers, but his thoughts seemed miles away. “There are different interpretations of their agendas and different calculations on some of the town’s budget line items.”

  “It’s politics.” Shari had read, seen, and heard it all. “Both offices dislike each other intensely. No surprise. The council members are all ultraconservatives and make the mayor seem like a flaming liberal.”

  “There’s something more than the town council president’s political challenge going on and it’s staring us in the face. We just can’t see it yet.” Diego took a deep drink of his coffee. His large hand masked the Toronto Raptors logo emblazoned on the mug. He settled farther back onto his chair. “I’ve got a gut feeling about this, and my gut hasn’t failed me in almost thirty years in the news business.”

  “What does that make you, fifty-two?”

  “Fifty-one.”

  “At least now I know what you did to tick off a government official.”

  A ghost of a smile hovered around Diego’s firm lips. He wasn’t going to let her bait him into telling her more about his past with the mayor. “Something else we have in common. You have an entire sheriff’s department giving you the silent treatment. Have you been able to mend those fences?”

  This must be how Chris felt when he was trying to get answers from her and she changed the subject. It was annoying, but that didn’t mean she’d stop doing it. “I’m working on it. Sister Lou and I are going to meet with them. We’re hoping they’ll agree to an information exchange.”

  “Good.” Diego hesitated. “If you’d been assigned that story in El Paso, you wouldn’t have made the same mistake I did.”

  “Then why did you?”

  He frowned. “I didn’t listen to my gut. I listened to my editor when he told me to report the information the officials gave me. I should have done my own investigation.”

  Shari wanted to remove the brooding expression from Diego’s classic features. “As you said, it’s in the past.”

  “The past shapes us. It can make us stronger or it can rule us.”

  There was a message for her in those words. It made her uncomfortable. Shari rose. “I’ll let you know how the meeting with the deputies turns out.”

  Diego arched a dark, blunt eyebrow. “We should run an update on the story soon. We don’t want to put this on the back burner. Someone in our community was murdered. It should be everyone’s priority to find out what happened.”

  Shari turned to leave, calling over her shoulder, “Instead, it seems like someone is doing his or her best to hide the truth about what happened—and why.”

  * * *

  “I’m not supposed to speak to you.” Urban Rodgers, the Briar Coast Cabin Resort’s head chef, called out to Sister Lou and Shari as they waited for him in the main lobby late Friday morning.

  Once again, Urban was dressed all in black: T-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. His close-cropped salt-and-pepper hair was uncovered. Evidently, the chef rejected the traditional white pants, smock, and toque.

  In her peripheral vision, Sister Lou caught Kelsey’s wide-eyed reaction from behind the registration desk. When she’d offered to page Urban, he must not have given any indication that he intended to shoot
down Sister Lou’s hope of getting helpful information from him about their deceased employer–and from the length of the hallway.

  “Let me guess.” Shari adjusted her handbag on her shoulder. Her winter coat was unbuttoned, revealing her robin’s-egg blue knit sweater and navy slacks. “The deputies warned you about us.”

  “Right.” Urban stopped, scowling at them from about an arm’s length away.

  Shari exchanged a side look with Sister Lou. “This seems to be the deputies’ new standard operating procedure.”

  Sister Lou sighed her agreement before addressing their reluctant source. All the while, she was aware of Kelsey’s observation. “Mr. Rodgers, if you could just give us a few minutes of your time—”

  “I won’t give you a scapegoat for Autumn’s murder.” He leaned forward as though trying to intimidate her. Sister Lou didn’t move.

  The chef was a mountain of a man, perhaps three hundred pounds and six feet six inches tall. His torso could double as a brick wall. The muscles straining the sleeves of his black jersey could stop a speeding locomotive. His black jeans were loose on his tree-trunk legs.

  Urban’s broad, dark brown face was scarred as though someone had realized they’d need more than harsh language to get past him. The deep knife cut extended down the side of his face from the corner of his grim left eye to the edge of his clenched square jaw. Sister Lou shivered, imagining the pain from the encounter. The resulting mark added a sense of danger to angular features that would have been attractive if they weren’t so dour. He was probably in his late fifties or early sixties, but his scowl made him seem older.

  In the face of such blatant hostility, how should she proceed? Walking away wasn’t an option. There was too much at stake. She asked God for guidance and found the answer in Urban’s eyes. Their black depths held more than anger. There was a wealth of grief and pain as well. He’d cared for Autumn, perhaps more than he was willing to accept.

  His emotion moved Sister Lou. She reached out, placing her hand on his upper arm. It was like concrete beneath her fingertips. She met his glare, letting him see the hurt she still felt from losing Maurice. “I know what it’s like to have someone you care about taken from you so brutally. You think that, if only you’d come in earlier that morning, you could have saved her. You’ll never know. But you do know that you can help her now by finding the person who killed her—the right person. I assure you, Mr. Rodgers, we’re working toward the same goal: justice for Autumn.”

  The monumental chef was silent for several long seconds. His gaze went between Sister Lou and Shari. Sister Lou sensed him debating whether he could trust them.

  Finally, he straightened. “Urban.”

  Sister Lou extended her hand to him. “I’m Sister Lou, and this is Sharelle Henson of The Briar Coast Telegraph.”

  Urban’s hesitation was brief before he shook their hands. “A reporter?” He looked to Shari. “You’re doing a story on Autumn’s murder?”

  “I’ve already written one. I’m working on a follow-up.” Shari released Urban’s hand. She followed him and Sister Lou to the sofas and chairs arranged in the far left section of the lobby, out of sight of casual attention.

  Urban waited until Sister Lou and Shari sat on the pine green sofa before positioning himself on the nearby matching armchair. “I don’t read the paper.”

  Shari stiffened beside Sister Lou. “You should. If you had, you would’ve known that Sister Lou solved the last murder in Briar Coast last month.”

  “Yeah?” Urban settled his sphinxlike stare on Sister Lou.

  Sister Lou returned his gaze. “How long have you known Autumn?”

  “Ten months.” Urban didn’t elaborate.

  “How long have you worked for her?” Shari sounded as though she’d guessed the answer.

  Urban switched his attention to the reporter. “Ten months.”

  Sister Lou empathized with the exasperation she recognized on Shari’s expressive features. She called again on God to grace them both with patience. They couldn’t give in to their frustration. Urban reminded her of some of the high school and college students she’d taught before leaving academia to work in the congregational offices. They masked their emotions beneath layers of attitude. Many, many layers.

  Sister Lou tried again. “Do you know whether Autumn was having any problems with anyone?”

  “Yes. Sister Marianna.” Urban’s thoughts weren’t revealed by even a flicker of his expression.

  Was he being honest or was he trying to goad them? Sister Lou’s gaze swept the lobby area again. Its open floor plan was beautifully decorated in natural walnut wood and fluffy pine green furnishings. The large picture windows allowed sunlight to flood in. The scenic paintings on display around the room looked like original artwork. Several guests enjoyed the spacious accommodations, but many more were on the resort grounds enjoying the final days of fall.

  Sister Lou swept her arm to draw Urban’s attention to their surroundings. “Her business was struggling. Her ex-husband’s new wife was harassing her. Her cousin threatened to kill her, but you sincerely believe that the greatest conflict your friend faced was a menu dispute for our congregation’s retreat?”

  His wavering gaze was Urban’s first sign of uncertainty. His voice softened. “Autumn mentioned that she needed Rita to do more, but Rita wanted to sell the resort. Said it wasn’t fun anymore. Autumn wasn’t complaining. She was just tired and frustrated. She worked all the time, but she loved this place. She’d never have sold it.”

  Sister Lou had a memory of Autumn being irritated that her partner had brought an older gentleman to the resort. Was he the potential buyer? “To whom did Rita want to sell the resort?”

  Urban frowned as though trying to recall the name. “Montgomery Crane of Crane Enterprises. Wealth.”

  “I recognize that name.” Shari sounded excited. “The guy’s filthy rich. He owns resorts all over the country that cater to specific types of vacations: skiing, hunting, camping, fitness, amusement parks, you name it.”

  But would he kill for a resort? Would Rita?

  Sister Lou considered the chef. “Did Autumn know you loved her?”

  Urban looked amused. “I care—cared—about her, but not like that. There aren’t a lot of restaurants that want a big black man with a scarred face as their head chef. Autumn was a good person. She gave me a chance. Didn’t ask a lot of questions about my past.”

  Shari tipped her chin toward Urban’s face. “So who gave you that scar?”

  His smile was meant to intimidate. “A reporter. I got the scar, but she didn’t get the story.”

  Shari looked smug. “Now I know you’re pulling my leg. She would’ve gotten the story.”

  Urban’s laughter was rusty. He stood to leave. “Maybe the deputies are wrong about you. You seem like good people, but you may be too late to help your friend.”

  “What do you mean?” Shari stood, too, and buttoned her coat.

  Urban glanced toward the registration desk. Kelsey jumped as though she’d received an electric shock, then disappeared from the desk, bouncing on her toes.

  He turned back to Sister Lou, who waited beside Shari. “Your friend left her scarf in Autumn’s office, right? The deputies found it.”

  A cold chill raced through Sister Lou.

  Chapter 24

  “You found a scarf in Autumn’s office?” Sister Lou confronted Deputy Fran Cole at her desk in the Briar Coast County Sheriff’s Office late Friday morning.

  She sensed Shari’s tension behind her. It reflected her own. They’d come to the sheriff’s office straight from their conversation with Urban Rodgers at the resort. They were convinced that someone was setting up Sister Marianna for Autumn Tassler’s murder. They needed answers. That’s the reason they bypassed Deputy Ted Tate’s desk. Uncooperative was in his DNA. Trying to get information from him about this critical matter would lead to an inescapable slide into insanity.

  Fran looked up from her computer. Sever
al unruly blond curls had sprung free of the bun at the nape of her neck. Her bottle green gaze was steady. “Yes, we found a black-and-gray-patterned silk scarf in Autumn Tassler’s office.”

  Sister Lou couldn’t penetrate Fran’s enigmatic expression. Her grip tightened on the strap of her shoulder bag.

  Shari moved to Sister Lou’s side. “When did you find it?”

  “What’s it to you?” Ted barked from his desk. Sister Lou ignored him.

  Fran’s attention shifted to the reporter. Her expression didn’t change. “Yesterday.”

  Shari crossed her arms over her chest. She’d again unbuttoned her winter coat. “Ten days after the murder. Doesn’t that seem a little strange to you?”

  “What are you trying to say?” Ted’s pale gray eyes were blazing.

  He circled his desk to join them in front of Fran’s. His tan shirt and spruce green gabardine pants were even baggier than they’d appeared last time.

  Shari turned to face him. Her hair floated around her shoulders. “You searched Autumn’s office November sixth right after her body was discovered. No scarf. Almost two weeks later, you happen to search her office again and—ta-da!—scarf.” She turned back to Fran. “I want in on the magic trick.”

  Sister Lou understood Shari’s sarcasm but the deputies didn’t appear to appreciate it. Their little quartet also seemed to be attracting attention. The deputies seated at other desks as well as the ones at the coffee station, surrounding the inevitable box of pastries, kept glancing their way. Despite the office’s cheerful décor and the tantalizing aroma of fresh coffee and cheese Danishes, Sister Lou knew she and Shari weren’t in friendly territory.

  “Are you accusing us of planting evidence?” Ted crowded Shari. His voice was unnecessarily loud.

  “Did you?” Shari angled her pointed chin.

  “Of course we’re not accusing you of such a thing!” Sister Lou shouted over Shari’s response in a vain attempt to drown her out. She put her hand on the confrontational reporter’s shoulder, then turned to Fran.

  “What prompted you to take a closer look at the crime scene?” Sister Lou could read Fran’s expression now. Her green eyes were hard with temper. She was probably thinking of charges to level against Shari and Sister Lou.