Hit and Nun (Nun of Your Business Mysteries Book 2)

by Dakota Cassidy

  Coop clicked on the tab and brought up another page. She highlighted a paragraph. “Here. It says in order to draw the demon out, you must call it by its name, Trixie Lavender. It’s the only way to exorcise it. You are a descendant of Adam, and God gave Adam dominion over all things. By extension, knowing the name of the demon will give you power or, as it states, dominion over the demon, and then maybe you can control it. But it’s my understanding it takes great will to force the hand of the demon.”

  My head popped up, and suddenly I was totally awake. I knew most scripture like the back of my hand, and I knew all about what the Bible said about exorcism, and some examples of what occurred during an exorcism.

  What Coop said is technically true, if you believe what’s been handed down over the years, but in all this time since I’d left the convent, I’d forgotten entirely how the Bible relates to my possession. And I fully admit, it’s simply because I don’t want to hit this head on. I just want it to go away, and I know realistically, that’s not going to happen.

  But Coop was a demon herself. Surely, she must know about a hard-and-fast rule like this? “Coop, you’re a demon. Have you ever heard of something like this?”

  She stared at me, her eyes blank. “If this rule truly exists, a demon of my rank and status wasn’t made aware of such. But then, I wasn’t a part of possessions. I only know they exist. I can’t vouch for whether calling the demon by name will rid you of him, but surely it’s worth looking into.”

  Surely.

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I’m game if you are. I don’t know how we find out my demon’s name, but next time he shows up at the barbecue, let’s give it a whirl.”

  She shook her long finger at me. “You’re being flippant.”

  I grinned. “I am. Nice word. I thought you were still on the letter A in your quest to absorb the entire dictionary. How’d you get to F so soon?”

  “I got bored, so I skipped around a little to alleviate the monotony.”

  Chuckling, I turned to Livingston. “Hey, pal, you’ve got a new job.”

  “Oh, magnificent. Does it involve peckin’ a churlish woman’s eyes out?”

  “Livingston,” I warned, slipping from the couch to place my laptop on the counter of our small island/bar top, overlooking our amazing white and navy blue kitchen. This kitchen—this glorious, shiny-steel-with-miles-of-snow-white-quartz-countertop kitchen—made me wish I could cook.

  “Yeees?” he drawled.

  “Promise me you won’t hurt Suzanne. I realize she’s difficult, but I won’t have her hurt on my watch. Also, if I’m not around to protect you, you could end up at Animal Control. You’re lucky you didn’t today. So knock it off.”

  His sigh grated, whizzing about the room. “Fine, lass. What is this job you’re yammerin’ about?”

  “Spy on Suzanne. Listen to her phone calls, watch what she does online, do whatever you have to in order to find us a lead in this so she’ll go home. Deal?”

  If Livingston could roll his eyes in sheer irritation, he’d roll them so hard at me right now. Instead, he conceded. “Fine. But I expect to be rewarded with cookies. Oreos, I’ll thank ya kindly. Double Stuf’s. The whole package, not just some namby-pamby crumbs because my cholesterol levels are at stake.”

  I laughed out loud. “Deal. Oreos it is—a whole package.” My phone vibrated on the counter and I grabbed it, hoping against hope it was Knuckles, sending us a text to tell us he was on his way home so we could go to sleep.

  But it wasn’t. It was Higgs.

  As I read the text, I gasped in surprise for the second time today.

  Spoke to my contact at the stationhouse. More news they’ve kept close to their chests since the preliminary reports. The coroner found the broken tip of a dart embedded in the left cheek of his butt-ox laced with a toxin. Toxin remains unknown at this point.

  Someone had shot the poor man in the rump to kill him?

  Well, if ever there was a kick in the pants, Agnar sure had gotten his.

  Chapter 13

  I put my head on my desk at Inkerbelle’s and yawned wide as I waited for Knuckles to arrive after his very long night at the police station. We’d all fallen asleep on the couch, hoping to at least see him, but his text told us Suzanne was beside herself and almost inconsolable (I know you find that as shocking as I did) by the time the police were done with her.

  Still, they’d released both her and Grady after questioning them with the warning they shouldn’t leave town just yet.

  So Knuckles did what he does best—he nurtured her. He made her a cup of her special tea, tucked her in, and texted that he’d see us in the morning. And here it was, morning, and here I was, waiting on Knuckles before I went and had a chat with Grady Hanson, who’d been suspiciously unavailable when I’d requested to meet with him just after we’d found the pictures of him and Suzanne.

  Today was a different story. Today, he’d agreed to meet me in the hotel lobby. But for right now, I needed to see my friend and reassure myself he was all right.

  While I waited, I’d scoured everything I could find on Suzanne on the web. I went to every single fan forum, every single fan site where there were pictures of her at horror conventions or movie premieres or charity events. In essence, I’d been all over the place, trying to find anything suspicious anywhere with anyone and I came up empty-handed.

  I lifted my head and closed my laptop, resting my forehead on my hands and shut my eyes, grainy and tired as though I’d been chopping onions, and all the while, Agnar’s cause of death swirled in my head.

  What toxin was deadly and unidentifiable? I’d done a Google search, but rare toxins were a dime a dozen and there were a million ways to use them as deadly weapons. If it wasn’t the obvious, like strychnine or cyanide, it could be hemlock or your garden-variety arsenic.

  After further texting with Higgs, I found out the broken tip of the dart found in Agnar’s hide is definitely what killed him, but as yet, whatever substance was used hadn’t been revealed—nor had they found the dart responsible for killing him.

  And still, there was no word on how the police had received the news Darren gave me yesterday about the Crown Vic. Both Abel and Darren were kind enough to drop by this morning and let me know they’d given statements to the police (although, I think Abel really only wanted to get a glimpse of Coop). So I knew for sure the police had the information.

  But if my gut isn’t exactly as finely tuned as Coop’s, it sure was standing at attention when I considered the hit and run had to do with Agnar’s death as much as the dart with this mysterious toxic substance.

  But how? And why? Did whoever was driving the car shoot the dart at Agnar, successfully land it, then get distracted and hit his mark by mistake? From the eyewitness testimony, nothing was mentioned about anyone rolling down a window, something you’d surely have to do to shoot a dart, nor does the way Agnar was hit by the car lend to that line of thinking.

  It would have been impossible for the car driver to land a dart if he was facing Agnar when he rammed into his bike. So were the two incidents totally unrelated and was my gut just a big, fat stinker?

  “Who killed you, Agnar?” I whispered out of desperation into my empty office. “If you’re up there, and you can hear me, send me a sign, would you? I know this isn’t very nice, but your wife is really mean. Though, you already know that, don’t you? I just want her to go home and leave Knuckles in peace. I’m worried about him and how vulnerable he seems to be around Suzanne. So lend a girl a hand, would you? Some divine intervention would be most appreciated.”

  “Trixie?” Knuckles entered my office, his enormous frame dwarfing everything around him.

  I hopped up from my chair and scooted around the desk to give him a welcoming hug, my relief very real. He wrapped me in his warm embrace and ran his knuckles along the top of my head. Then he held me at arm’s length. “You okay, Trixie girl? Who were you talking to?”

  I smiled up at him and his tired eyes. “Oh,
just myself. You know how that goes. I’ll always get the answer I want.”

  His rumble of a chuckle even sounded tired. “Very true.”

  I patted his back and asked, “You okay? You had a really long night, my friend. What can I do to help?”

  “You could give me the day off? I’m pretty darn fried, kiddo. I can’t do all-nighters like I used to. My party animal left the building a long time ago.”

  I smiled in sympathy, my heart hurting for him. “Of course you can have the day off, Knuckles. Goose and Coop are here, and you know how business early in the week goes. It’s always slow. No sweat.”

  He pinched my cheek with his beefy fingers. “Thanks, little lady.”

  Gosh, this moment wasn’t one I’d been looking forward to, but I had to ask. “So, you heard about Suzanne and Grady?” I asked on a wince, hating everything about this pending conversation.

  Knuckles stiffened, his massive chest rising and falling as he let out a breath. “I did. I heard you were the one who found the pictures, too.”

  I looked down at my sandals. “It was just dumb luck. I’m sorry, Knuckles. I had no idea I’d find something so incriminating…”

  He shrugged his wide shoulders. “It’s not your fault, kiddo. You did the right thing.”

  Did I? If hurting my friend was “doing the right thing,” I’m not sure I want to do the right thing. “How do you feel about what I found?”

  His hands suddenly dropped from my arms and rested at his sides. “How am I supposed to feel?”

  Oh, dear. Proceed with caution, Lavender. Danger, Will Robinson, danger.

  “I don’t know, Knuck. I’m just checking in with you. If you want to talk about what’s going on, I’m always here… I guess that’s just something I need you to know.”

  “What’s to talk about?” he asked, as though Suzanne hadn’t been memorialized in pictures, wrapped up in a naked clinch with Grady Hanson.

  I bit the inside of my cheek. I’m almost never at a loss for words, but I was surely struggling right now. “Okay, let me start again. Suzanne asked me to help find out who killed her husband. I did that, am doing that, as a courtesy to you—because you’re my friend. I didn’t mean to find what I found yesterday. I wish I hadn’t found what I found yesterday—”

  “Why? Because you bein’ an ex-nun and all means mistakes aren’t allowed?” he cut me off, his words stiff.

  My inhale was sharp. It was as though he’d slapped me in the face, and I had to fight to keep the sting of tears at bay. I knew he was lashing out because he felt defensive about Suzanne and any residual feelings he had for her. It was a kneejerk reaction when you know you can’t help the emotions you have for someone who isn’t very nice, but I think he had the past and the present mixed up. I had to keep that uppermost in my mind.

  “That’s not what I’m saying at all, and I’d like to believe you know that much about me. But there’s a distinct pattern with Suzanne’s behavior here, Knuckles. Surely you can see that?” I asked, tiptoeing into the murky waters of our friendship.

  His resolve was like steel as he folded his arms. “I see a woman who made a mistake—a pretty big one. I also see a woman who’s lost her husband and sorely regrets that he knew about that mistake before he died. Maybe she had an epiphany and didn’t have the chance to tell him? People do that all the time after something tragic happens. That’s what I see. What do you see, Trixie?”

  I see an actress who’s vying for an Academy Award in her mind while she plays you for a fool.

  That’s what I wanted to say, but of course, I didn’t.

  With my heart in my throat, I said, “I see that you’re angry, but I’m not sure why. If you’ll tell me, I’ll try and fix it.”

  Knuckles looked me directly in the eye, and I couldn’t read the emotion, but I’m pretty sure it was disappointment. “I’m not angry, Trixie. I’m disappointed.”

  Yep. I’d read his eyes right. “In?”

  “You’re an ex-nun, Trixie. Of all the people in the world, I’d have thought you’d be the first one willing to forgive someone for their indiscretions, sins, whatever you people with religion call it. She’s apologized, but I guess that’s not good enough. Instead, you’re being judgmental, and I’m here to tell ya, I don’t like it.” Then he shook his head, his eyes full of confusion. “Bah! I don’t know, Trixie. I’m all mixed up inside. I just need some time.”

  Had the floor opened up and swallowed me whole, I couldn’t be more stunned. Tears burned my eyes. I’m sure—no, I’m certain Knuckles was reacting defensively because of his old feelings for Suzanne, and they’re mixed up with his longing for his life partner. The wires are all crossed, but man, those words hurt.

  So I did the only thing I could do. Give him time. I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek. “I’m sorry you feel that way, Knuckles. You take the day off, go home and get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

  “And think about what you’re sayin’, man,” Goose said from out of nowhere as he pushed the door to my office open wide. “You go on and get yourself some sleep, because I’m not gonna have you talkin’ to Trixie like that, and I have to believe it’s ’cause you’re tired and frustrated. Trixie’s good to us. She cares about you. I know I said I wouldn’t say anything more, but I’m not gonna stand around and listen to you hurt the kid’s feelings. That flippin’ Suzanne’s bad news, and you can either like it or lump it. Now go home and get some rest, you big lug, and don’t come back till ya got your pants on straight.”

  Goose pointed to the door of the shop with a knobby finger, his eyes, lined by age, flashing with anger.

  Knuckles narrowed his gaze and thinned his lips but he didn’t say a word. He turned on his heel and marched toward the door, his back stiff, his boots the only sound as his footsteps echoed in the shop.

  I didn’t realize I’d been holding my breath until I let out a long exhale. Goose put a comforting hand on my shoulder. “You all right, kiddo?”

  No. I wasn’t all right. I wanted to sit down and have a good cry, but I nodded. “I will be.” I just needed a minute to get past the shock of Knuckles’s hurtful words.

  Goose lifted my chin with his index finger and winked, his wrinkled face turning upward in a grin. “You listen to me. Knuck’s not in his right frame of mind right now. He’s a little stupid when it comes to that woman—always was until she proved she was nothin’ but a headache. He’ll kick himself later for what he said to ya, but no way I’m gonna let him forget who his real friends are and talk to ya like that. You let him cool off, but don’t take what he said to heart, kiddo. He’s only known you a short time, but he loves you girls like his own. He just needs some time to come around. Okay?”

  I think that’s the most Goose had ever said to me in one conversation, but you know what they say about the silent ones. You have to look out for them because when they finally speak, it’s usually profound.

  On impulse, I threw my arms around his neck and squeezed him hard, hiding my face against his shoulder in an effort to cover up my tears. “Thanks, Goose,” I whispered. “I know you’re right. I’ll just have to give him some time.”

  He leaned away from me and pinched my cheek. “Good girl. Now go on and talk to that dirtball who was messin’ around with Suzanne so we can get this mess over with and send her packin’.”

  “You think I should keep investigating?” I squeaked in disbelief.

  I was ready to pack it in to save my friendship with Knuckles. I didn’t want to find anything else out about Suzanne that could damage our relationship.

  “Yeah, I do. The faster you find out who killed that wretched woman’s husband, the faster she’ll be gone. You wait and see. She’s usin’ Knuckles because she has nowhere else to go, but the second she does, she’ll be outta here lookin’ for greener pastures. That means, you have a murder to solve so I can be the first one standin’ in line to wave goodbye to her.”

  I fought a giggle. “Then I’d better get to it.” I squeezed his h
and, my heart full of gratitude for his soothing words. “Thanks again, G-Man. You’re awesome,” I said as I squeezed past him to head for the door.

  “Just you remember what I said, and be careful, kiddo. Me n’ Coop’ll hold down the fort.”

  I waved my hand over my shoulder, avoiding looking at Coop, who was busy tattooing a young woman’s ankle.

  Mostly I avoided looking at her because I didn’t want to cry, but the moment I stepped outside, I inhaled the warm air and tears began to fall down my cheeks.

  Knuckles’s words had cut me to the quick, and I know they shouldn’t. I know he’s all caught up in the wonder of Suzanne and her dilemma. He was a protector. A nurturer. But if nothing else, his adoration made me that much more determined to find out who killed Agnar.

  If what Goose said was true, and she really would head off to greener pastures, I had to act fast.

  Because you can bet your bippy, I’ll be the second person in line right behind Goose, waiting to wave goodbye to her.

  Chapter 14

  I rose from my seat and stuck my hand out to Grady Hanson and he took it, though his eyes held guilt that was clear as the day is long.

  “Mr. Hanson, thanks for seeing me,” I said as we sat once again in the atrium of the hotel.

  “Did I have a choice?”

  “You did. You could have said no,” I said, my tone showing my displeasure.

  “And have those two nags on my back about owing Suzanne?” he said, referring to Lucinda and Edwin. “Not on your bloody life. So what can I tell you that I haven’t already told the police? It’s obvious I’m not guilty because they let me go. I have a solid alibi.”

  My eyes honed in on his round face. I wasn’t here to mess about. My resolve was steadfast. I wanted Suzanne to go home. The only way to do that was to figure out who killed Agnar. “I’m not interested in your alibi, Mr. Hanson. I’m interested in your relationship with Suzanne.”