Peril & Prayer

by Olivia Matthews

  “Really?” Becca’s voice jumped a couple of octaves in surprise. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I ask myself that every time I talk with him.”

  The managing editor laughed as though she’d never heard a funnier joke. Shari’s curiosity grew. She glanced at her empty coffee cup and wished she’d gotten a refill before answering her telephone.

  “You have to be pretty tough to work the police beat.” Becca paused. Shari sensed she was measuring her next words. “Are you tough, Sharelle?”

  Shari frowned at the telephone receiver in her hand, then placed it back against her ear. “That’s an odd question. Why are you asking?”

  “I like your style, Sharelle. You’re forthright.” Becca’s chuckle was startled. “The reason I’m asking is that our newspaper has an opening for a tough investigative reporter. We’re very interested in talking with you about this position.”

  Had she heard correctly? Shari sat back on her padded, gray desk chair. “You want to interview me for a job with your newspaper?”

  “That’s right.” Becca sounded amused. “You have a great sense of the news and how to approach it to make your readers understand why the story matters to them. Also, your writing has raised the bar for the other reporters at the Telegraph.”

  It was Shari’s turn to laugh in surprise. “I’m not responsible for the new writing style here. Our new editor in chief did that. He’s improved the staff’s morale and given everyone a sense of purpose.”

  Becca broke the short silence. “You sound as though you really admire him.”

  “We all do. We respect him and he respects us.”

  “That’s impressive.” Becca sounded distracted. Was she taking notes? “In any event, we’d like to bring you in for an interview for our investigative reporter opening.”

  Becca seemed confident that Shari would accept her invitation for an interview. Shari considered the Telegraph’s offices, modest and aged. The walls were dented and dingy. The carpeting was swollen with the stench of newsprint. Buffalo Today’s office was probably much more modern, comfortable, and fresh.

  But the Telegraph was home.

  Shari responded without regret. “Thank you for your invitation. I’m flattered, of course, but I’m happy with the Telegraph.”

  “You are?” Becca’s surprise was almost funny. Shari sensed the other woman composing herself. “I don’t mean to be indelicate, but I think a job with our organization pays better.”

  Shari burst into laughter. “I’m sure it does.”

  “Then why are you turning down an opportunity to interview with us?”

  “It’s about more than money. As I said, I like my boss. He believes in me and encourages me. I’ve never had that before. And I like this town. I haven’t been here that long, but it’s growing on me.”

  “You can still live in Briar Coast and commute to Buffalo. We’re not that far away.”

  “Far enough, but that’s not the point. I don’t want to just live here. I want to be a part of the community. Working for the Telegraph is the best way for me to do that.”

  Becca’s sigh signaled her deep disappointment. “I hope your paper and Briar Coast realize how lucky they are.”

  “I doubt that they do.” Shari attempted a little levity to get through the awkward moment. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. It was pretty cool, if a little uncomfortable.

  “Promise me that if you ever do decide to leave the Telegraph, you’ll call me first.”

  “I promise, but you’ll probably be waiting for a very long time.” Shari paused. “I’d like a promise from you, too.”

  “What’s that?”

  Shari cleared her throat. “I won’t ask you not to offer my editor, Diego, a job, but could you let me know first? I’d be devastated if he left the Telegraph.”

  “Actually, we wanted to offer Diego a job. Just like you, he didn’t even accept an interview.”

  Shari looked over her shoulder in the direction of Diego’s office. “Isn’t that interesting?”

  * * *

  Even though Fran and Ted had agreed to this meeting, Sister Lou sensed they weren’t willing to cooperate with her, Chris, or especially Shari. Their silence was deafening. She and Chris were doing most of the talking as they sat in a small conference room in the Briar Coast County Sheriff’s Office after lunch Friday afternoon.

  “We’d like to assist you with the investigation into Autumn Tassler’s murder.” Sister Lou tried a different tack in an effort to get a response—any response—from the deputies.

  There was a chill in the room. Sister Lou didn’t know whether it was a lack of heat or the deputies’ attitude. The conference room was hidden in the back of the bullpen. Still, the scents of fresh coffee and warm pastries had followed them past the doors. Sister Lou could use a cup of coffee right about now, although she’d prefer chai tea.

  Ted grunted. “It’s been almost three weeks. Now you’re thinking about working with us? Why?”

  “Why not?” Shari shrugged. “Don’t you think you could use some help?”

  “What’s that mean?” Fran pounced on Shari’s question.

  Chris leaned forward, drawing the deputy’s attention away from Shari and toward him. “It’s in all of our interests to solve Ms. Tassler’s murder as soon as possible. A group effort will help us achieve that goal.”

  “This case is complicated.” Sister Lou voiced her perspective. “It’s a lot more difficult than Maurice’s murder because there are so many conflicting opinions about who Autumn was and how well her resort was performing.”

  Ted didn’t appear mollified. “Is it too much for Sister Super Sleuth?”

  “And what do you have to show?” Shari’s cocoa eyes were scalding as she glared at the deputies on the other side of the small, rectangular, maple wood conference table.

  “Shari—” Chris’s low voice held a note of caution.

  Sister Lou caught his eye and gave him an almost imperceptible shake of her head. At times you needed to be diplomatic. At other times, you had to come out swinging. Their diplomacy wasn’t working. Maybe they should let Shari swing away. Chris yielded the floor.

  Shari’s voice was tight as she continued. “We brought you information on January Potts’s false alibi and the fact that someone planted a fake scarf to implicate Sister Marianna. We also gave you the list of Autumn’s employees and the name of the company doing the background check. It’s time you gave us something.”

  Ted’s face flushed. He stuttered with outrage. “We have to give you something?”

  Shari held his wide-eyed stare. “Did I stutter?”

  “The chef has a record.” Fran’s level response seemed to settle the room. Well, everyone except Ted.

  Ted turned to her like a shot. “What’re you doing?”

  “She has a point.” Fran settled back on her padded conference chair and gave Shari, Sister Lou, and Chris a hard look. “They’ve given us useful information. Besides, Shari’s proven that there’s nothing we can do to prevent her from writing about the case. We might as well cooperate.”

  Ted’s expression darkened. “I’d rather not.”

  Fran gave him a sarcastic look. “At least if we work with them, we’ll be able to control the message.”

  Shari interrupted. “I’m not going to let you control—”

  “Shari.” Sister Lou placed a gentle hand on top of Shari’s where it rested on the table between them. No point in pushing their luck.

  “Urban Rodgers was arrested for assault.” Fran sat forward, folding her hands on the surface of the conference table. “Gary Hargreaves, the accountant, has been arrested twice for embezzlement.”

  Shari looked scornful. “We knew about Rodgers and Hargreaves.”

  Sister Lou glanced at the framed color photos displayed on the conference room’s walls. They captured moments in time with the deputies volunteering in the community: Toys for Tots drives, staffing food and game stands during tow
n fund-raising events, packaging meals for families in need. These were events in which the sisters also had participated, proof that on more than one occasion, the congregation and the sheriff’s office had found common ground. It was their interest in and love for the community they both served.

  “Then I guess you don’t need us.” Ted’s response was thick with sarcasm.

  Sister Lou drew her attention from the photographs on the walls. “Our point is that we need each other.”

  “What about Autumn’s other employees?” Chris looked between Ted and Fran. “There were twenty-five names on the list.”

  “The vendor’s got a few left to look at. The rep said he gave Autumn the report, but our guys never found the file.” Ted grunted. “According to the rep, most of the employees came back clean. Rodgers and Hargreaves were the only ones that popped.”

  Fran nodded. “That’s why they’re on the top of our list. Rodgers has a temper, and we’re examining Hargreaves’s bank records for withdrawal and deposit patterns that match those of the resort’s account.”

  Sister Lou detected the excitement in the other woman’s voice. The deputy enjoyed tugging on clues and following leads. Was that the reason she got into law enforcement?

  Sister Lou addressed Fran. “Neither of those gentlemen murdered Autumn.”

  Ted rolled his eyes. “Did God tell you that?”

  Sister Lou wondered whether she should tell Ted that his hostility was losing its impact. “Autumn knew about their criminal records and hired them anyway. They’re grateful to her.”

  Ted barked a fake laugh. “Thanks for your opinion, Sister, but we’ll keep them on our list of suspects. Who’re you looking at?”

  “We’re interested in Isabella Fortney.” Chris propped an elbow on the table. His dark gray suit jacket hung on the back of his maple wood and slate gray–cushioned chair. “Isabella wanted Roy to stop paying alimony.”

  “We haven’t ruled out Rita Morris and January Potts, either.” Shari’s voice held more than a hint of reluctance. “Did you confront January about her false alibi?”

  Fran shrugged. “She’s sticking to her story.”

  Ted sprawled back on his chair, visibly more comfortable with the conversation. “If you’re still looking at the Potts wife, you might as well keep the husband on the list, too.”

  “Keep him on your own list.” Shari gestured toward Ted with her pen. “Sister Lou doesn’t think he was having an affair with Autumn, so he doesn’t have a motive.”

  Ted gave Sister Lou a dismissive look. “She’s a marriage expert, too, now?”

  Shari glared at the deputy. “Her opinion’s good enough for us.”

  Chris nodded his agreement, causing the deputies to give Sister Lou a closer look.

  Sister Lou struggled not to smile at the baffled expressions on their faces. “Who else is on your list of suspects?”

  Ted exchanged a look with Fran before responding. “We’re taking a longer look at Montgomery Crane, unless you disagree, of course.”

  Sister Lou ignored the deputy’s sarcasm. “Why would Mr. Crane give Autumn business advice if he was willing to kill her for the resort?”

  Apparently at a loss, Ted looked to Fran, but her attention was on Sister Lou. “What’s on your mind, Sister?”

  Sister Lou was impressed by the other woman’s perception. “Between us, we have so many suspects: Urban Rodgers, Gary Hargreaves, Sherrod and January Potts, Rita Morris, Montgomery Crane, and Roy and Isabella Fortney.”

  Chris sighed. “And we have strong motives for all of them.”

  Ted dragged his thick hand over his bald pate. “Maybe more than one person was involved.”

  “Autumn was strangled. Isn’t that method too personal for more than one killer?” Shari seemed to delight in contradicting Ted every chance she got.

  Fran drummed her fingers on the table. “We don’t have anything that makes one suspect more suspicious than the others.”

  Sister Lou balanced her elbows on the table and linked her fingers together. “Then we need to take a harder look at the victim. To which motive was Autumn most vulnerable?”

  Chapter 32

  “Which of your wealthy donors wants us to back off of the Tassler investigation?” Diego’s deep voice carried outside of his office in the Telegraph’s building late Friday afternoon.

  Shari froze mere steps from his door. Who was he talking to? Without shame she strained to listen and was rewarded with the mayor’s voice.

  “How many times are you going to rerun the same three paragraphs in your articles about the Autumn Tassler murder investigation?” Heather’s rhetorical question made Shari bristle.

  What the—?

  “My reporters don’t rehash the news, Heather.” Diego sounded almost as irritated as Shari felt. “It’s beneath you to insinuate that. Your time would be better spent asking what your donors don’t want your constituents to know about the investigation.”

  Good question! Shari leaned closer to the wall to hear Heather’s response.

  “I’m not anyone’s puppet, Diego, and it’s beneath you to insinuate that I am.” As a response, Heather’s words were infinitely disappointing. “Tell your Woodward and Bernstein wannabe to investigate something else.”

  Shari’s eyes stretched wide. Woodward and Bernstein wannabe?

  Angry strides swept her into the room before she realized her own intent. She confronted the mayor, who was wearing a very powerful sapphire blue midcalf-length skirt suit with matching pumps, tastefully accessorized with a simple pearl necklace and matching earrings. “Why don’t you tell me yourself?”

  Heather’s perfectly plucked winged eyebrows knitted. “This is a private conversation.”

  “How private could it be?” Shari waved a hand toward the threshold. “The door’s open.”

  “She has a point.” Diego sounded amused. “Besides, we’re talking about her work. She has a right to hear what we’re saying.”

  Shari flashed her boss a grateful look before returning her challenging gaze to the mayor. She wasn’t used to getting support from a supervisor. In the past, her editors had been almost indecent in their haste to throw her under the bus, even when the error was one they’d made during their overzealous editing of her articles.

  “Sister Lou said you’d also asked her to stop investigating Autumn’s murder.” Shari gave the other woman a considering look. “How did the Fortneys word their request for your intervention? Did they explain why they want Sister Lou to stop asking questions?”

  “What makes you think it was the Fortneys?” Heather crossed her arms. Her expression gave nothing away.

  Shari caught the slight shift in the mayor’s reaction. Sherrod Potts? Really? She’d expected better of him. “Don’t you want to know who killed one of your constituents and why? Because I certainly want to know who killed one of my neighbors.”

  A flash of irritation streaked through Heather’s violet eyes. “That’s what we pay our deputies to find out.”

  Diego shifted on his seat. “Mayor Stanley, while your interest in our work is noted and appreciated, you don’t run this paper. I do, and I don’t take editorial direction from your office. I run a newspaper, not your public relations firm.”

  Heather switched her deadly stare to Diego. “Actually, Mr. DeVarona, your publishers run this paper. Perhaps I should give them a call.”

  “Please, use my phone.” Diego gave her a taunting smile.

  Shari enjoyed her front-row seat to this epic battle of wills. She shifted her attention between Heather and Diego. Which titan would blink first?

  Heather gave Shari a cursory look before returning her attention to Diego. “I know you’ve had your bloodhound interrogating my staff. What do you think she’s going to find?”

  “Bloodhound? What’s with the insults? You’re not the only one who’s had a bad day, you know.”

  Heather’s attention was locked on Diego. Shari doubted the other woman had even heard her. Sh
e also didn’t think Diego was going to reply to the mayor’s question. When he remained silent, Heather expelled an aggravated breath.

  “This isn’t El Paso.” She spun on her expensive heels and marched through the door, leaving behind a whiff of her barely there perfume. Her footsteps faded down the hallway.

  Shari took a moment to process the brief exchange before facing her boss. The air was heavy with residual tension. She could almost taste the secrets. “Her parting comment about El Paso was a reference to your shared past, wasn’t it?”

  Diego’s sigh was the closest he’d ever come to revealing his feelings about what just transpired. Even to Shari’s untrained ears, it revealed a lot. “It’s complicated. In El Paso, Heather had trusted the wrong people. That’s how her boss had been able to implicate her in their agency’s scandal. Her poor judgment damaged her political career and hurt the town.”

  Shari hadn’t found this level of detail during her Internet search into the mayor’s background. “Then, it wasn’t just your article that damaged her career. The mayor bears some responsibility, too.”

  “My article didn’t help.”

  “That’s guilt talking.” Shari waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, it’s been thirteen years. Don’t you think she’s older and wiser now?”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Are you asking me to dig through her administration for her sake or for Briar Coast?”

  “Both.”

  Shari headed toward the door. “Then, if we save the mayor from herself, we’ll save the town. Easy enough.”

  * * *

  “So, my past. How do people even start a conversation like this?” Shari’s tone was an interesting mix of defiant and defensive.

  Chris sat across the table from her in the Briar Coast Café late Saturday morning. She’d invited him for coffee and pastries—and presumably conversation. He was almost done with the former and still waiting for the latter.

  Weekend traffic at the café was even heavier than it was during the week. The line at the counter extended out the door, but most people were taking their orders to go. This explained how he and Shari were able to get a table.