by JD Faver
Angel raked his fingers through his hair. “Okay, Bernie. Tell me what happened.”
“Colin was dead when Teri found him. She hid in the closet when the killers returned.”
Angel’s heart rate increased, but he tried to keep his expression neutral. “You’re telling me she can identify the killers?”
The waitress set large glasses of iced tea in front of them.
She squeezed her lemon in no apparent hurry. The spoon tinkling against her glass sounded unnaturally loud as it echoed against the hard surfaces in the confined space.
“Go on, Bernie,” he urged, struggling to keep his cool.
She leaned forward in a conspiratorial manner. “Apparently, one of the men killed Colin over money. Then, in the parking garage, the killer shot at her. They know who she is. She’s terrified.”
He frowned at her. “Your sister found the body and saw the killers?”
“Only one of them. The other man was yelling about where Colin might have hidden the money.”
“Ah, the money,” he said. “How much money are we talking about?”
She studiously wiped the sweating iced tea glass with a paper napkin.
“Colin didn’t tell her about it?”
She shook her head adamantly. “Teri didn’t know anything. She never even had a chance to unpack.”
He spread his hands. “Why the rush? She could have stayed home and returned the bag another later.”
A tinge of color appeared high on her cheeks. “I don’t have the answer, Angel.” She turned the blue eyes on him. “May I call you Angel?”
He had to stop himself from saying, ‘Yes, Sister’. “Of course, Bernie.” He had to grin at the way she pronounced his name. Such a little gringa. “She wasn’t tired of him after two weeks of togetherness?”
“They were in love.”
“I see,” he said, with a smile. “I didn’t realize you knew so much about love, Bernie.”
“I know my sister.” She leaned forward, entreating him with her baby face.
This little one doesn’t have the skill to lie convincingly. She’s been holding back out of loyalty, but now she’s spilling her gut. Angel tried not to stare at her lips. He gazed at her for a long serious moment. “She needs to come in. I can protect her.”
She caught her lower lip between her teeth, causing a tightness in his chest. He reached for his iced tea and drained the glass. He welcomed the stab of pain to his head since it chased away all impious thoughts.
She sipped her tea and answered a few more questions for him. He paid the check and held the door for her as they stepped outside into the liquid heat.
“I forgot how hot it is here,” he said. “I’ve been melting since I got back.”
She turned sharply, looking up at him with something like fear in her eyes. “You’ve been here before?”
“I grew up here. My parents, aunts and uncles, sisters, brother and cousins all live here.” He opened the car door for her, indicating she was to get in.
“But you live in New York City now?” She slid onto the seat as he went around and got in.
“Yes. I joined the Navy after high school. I was on a battleship in the Gulf. I fell in love with The City during Fleet Week. I was the kid who walked around staring up at the tall buildings.”
“Me, too.” She bit her lower lip again.
“You lived in New York City?” Angel’s attention riveted to her eyes. She was holding something back.
“Just to visit Teri.” She gnawed her lip. “She gave me the grand tour.”
“What did you like best?” She was definitely nervous but this information seemed inconsequential. What would make a nun misrepresent the truth?
“Everything.” Her brow furrowed. “The harbor. The Statue of Liberty. Central Park. China Town. Little Italy. Broadway.” Her face puckered like she was going to cry, but she pressed her lips together and drew in a breath.
Probably worried about her sister. “It’s a lot cooler there.” He smiled, hoping to put her at ease. Something I said set her on edge again.
“Try to wear cotton,” she said. “For the heat. Cotton breathes and keeps you cool.”
“I’ll try to remember that, Bernie.”
He drove the short distance to the convent, but she redirected him to on aging brick apartment complex.
“You don’t live with the others?”
“I live with three nuns,” she said. “We’re all in our twenties. Mother Superior thought we would be happier with our own place.”
“That’s pretty radical,” he said.
“For a nun, you mean? It’s because the nuns here are mostly pretty old. Mother didn’t want to lose us so she’s made our environment youth friendly, as she says.”
“She sounds like quite a lady.”
“Mother Immaculata is very dear to us.” She opened the door and stepped out onto the curb. “Thank you for the tea, Angel. Please forget about Teri and find the men who killed Colin. When she knows they’re in custody, she’ll be able to go home.”
“And you’ll get the word to her when I do?” Angel looked at her skeptically.
Large blue eyes assessed him. She shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“It would be easier if I could talk to her in person. I could use a description of the killers. If she comes forward I can protect her as a witness.”
“She doesn’t know anything more than I’ve told you.” Closing the car door, she turned, stepping onto the sidewalk leading to the maze of older apartments shrouded in overgrown shrubbery.
He watched Bernie disappear into the shadows. Although he hadn’t gone to church in some time, he thought he could still go to hell for staring at a nun’s ass.
“What a waste!” He put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.
His only key to this murder was a hot nun. He couldn’t treat her as he would anyone else who withheld information. He couldn’t threaten her with incarceration. He couldn’t sweat her. No good cop/bad cop.
But he could keep her under surveillance because he knew she would eventually lead him to Teri.
Angel pulled into the Alamo Motor Lodge and parked in front of his room. He went inside and gathered the case files from his bed. He felt restless and dissatisfied with his progress. Another shower cooled him off.
He tried to sleep, but the photographs of Teri Slaughter tormented him. Teri Slaughter, rich young professional with power in every molecule. They had lived in the same city, but might as well have been on different planets.
Then there was Bernie. Angel knew if he’d tracked her, the killers could, too. She took chances. Keeping her safe would be difficult. She was too naïve to realize there were bad people out there.
He closed his eyes, visualizing her translucent skin and eyes the aquamarine color of sea glass. Bernie’s hair was the same color, but Teri’s haircuts cost a fortune. Bernie’s hair was cropped at the nape of her neck. There was a hint of curl but it looked wash and wear. The two women were poles apart though there was a strong bond between them.
He needed to question Teri. If she was as innocent as Bernie claimed, she needed protection. She could describe the killers, talk to the police artist, look at mug shots. She needed to do it soon if she was to stay alive. If Bernie was to stay alive.
#
Quietly, Teri slipped inside the darkened apartment. She locked the door behind her and twisted the deadbolt into place, feeling a little more secure for having done so.
From the kitchen, the clock on the stove cast an eerie illumination. She made her way to her bedroom, thankful that Clem had the A/C cranked down.
Teri sat on the edge of her bed and slid out of her shoes. Pushing them under her bed, she took off the rest of her clothes. She pulled her cotton gown from under her pillow and sat holding it against her breasts.
She didn’t like the way Detective Garcia made her feel, especially when he smiled. Teri Slaughter knew the look he was giving her. She’s known it all her life. Even
with the extra pounds, she knew he was attracted to her, no matter how unlikely the pairing.
That didn’t bother her as much as the incredible attraction she felt to him. He stirred something deep inside her that she didn’t want stirred at the moment. Sitting beside him in the restaurant had felt dangerous, like she was being drawn down into a vortex. Where would she land if she let herself fall?
A single tear slid down the side of her nose and dropped onto the cotton gown. In her previous life, she’d slept between the finest Egyptian cotton sheets with a thread count so high they’d felt like silk against her skin. She had rested her head on plump down pillows and slept in an array of lovely silk gowns.
She stood and let the stream of cool air from the window A/C blast over her nude body. Inhaling deeply, she swallowed her tears and pulled the gown over her head before she slid between the coarse cotton sheets.
It was ten-fifteen on a Friday evening. Friday was the night she and Colin always went out to dinner. They should have been dining at a trendy restaurant and laughing and enjoying an excellent wine.
She could hear Clem breathing over the whir of the A/C.
Teri felt so alone. Another tear blazed a trail from the corner of her eye to her ear. She wiped it away.
Colin was dead and Teri had given up her entire life just to stay alive. She hoped she’d been right in trusting Angel and that he would find the killers soon. She hoped his handsome choirboy face masked a nimble brain and Superman’s heart.
She wondered if she was going to hell for lying while impersonating a nun.
#
CHAPTER FOUR
Angel tossed and turned. He kept drifting off to sleep only to wake fitfully with a beautiful face haunting him. But he couldn’t tell if it was Teri or Bernie. He got up and splashed cool water on his own face.
He sat in the chair in front of the air conditioning vent and thought about the two women.
He recalled Colin Dowd’s sunburned face, evidence of his recent vacation, and his bright blue eyes staring vacantly at the ceiling.
The small caliber bullet wound in the middle of Colin’s forehead turned out to be a .25 caliber hollow-point, the same kind that had been extracted from the door of Teri’s car. It had exploded inside Colin’s skull. A close quarters assassin’s bullet.
Colin’s boss and co-workers had described him as being brash and cocky, but with a winning personality. If Colin had a fault, Martin Kelso said it was promising more than he could deliver. If he got in trouble, it was Teri who bailed him out.
When Angel checked Teri’s apartment, he searched for a glimpse of her in her lavish lifestyle. Pale buttery shades in various textures from silky sheers to heavy weaves defined her space.
Teri had been fond of having her picture taken and the camera loved her. Tall and slim yet athletic looking, she had a deceptively simple style that took time and money to achieve. Teri’s appointment book was filled with manicures, pedicures, massages, facials, body waxing, personal trainer, haircuts and a diet and exercise regimen that was followed with a religious fervor. The making of Teri Slaughter was an enterprise in itself.
Still, Angel was in awe of her beauty and style. He stared at her photographs until he could almost feel her silky hair on his fingertips. He smelled the perfumes in her dressing room and opened her lingerie drawer. Nothing was good enough for Teri Slaughter, especially Detective Angel Garcia.
Angel had expected to have the case wrapped up long before Sister Bernadette returned from Ireland, but that hadn’t happened.
This lack of results had led him to be slumped in front of the air conditioner in a humid motel room in San Antonio that smelled a little of mold and bleach, unable to cool down enough to sleep. Unable to get Teri Slaughter and Bernie off his mind.
Something was bothering him and he couldn’t quite get a grasp of it. When he’d first met Bernie he’d been amazed by her resemblance to her sister. She sat across from him, looking sweet and slender and he’d been overwhelmed by the urge to protect her.
But he’d gotten a flash of something strong underneath her seemingly fragile exterior. He’d never met a nun who couldn’t hold her own. She was wearing Teri’s face, translucent skin and a cropped version of Teri’s hair. The eyes were disarmingly clear, ringed by a fringe of unadorned lashes and brows.
Angel jerked upright, grinning in the dark. The brows had been professionally done at one time and were growing out. He was glad that he’d been raised with four women and was familiar with their grooming routines.
“Hello Teri,” he whispered.
#
Angel Garcia leaned against the stone balustrade under the portico connecting the schoolrooms to the chapel. Classes were over and the uniformed students poured out the double doors. Some of the girls cast flirtatious glances at Angel as he waited.
Most of the students had thinned out before Teri made her appearance. “Detective Garcia?” She sounded surprised.
He took the hand she offered, holding it longer than was necessary. “Bernie, I thought you were going to call me Angel.” He gave his name the Spanish pronunciation.
“Angel.” She smiled as she tried to say it his way.
He liked the way her lips formed his name. “Where can we talk privately, Bernie?”
“The memorial rose garden beside the chapel.” She gestured to a path that wound through beds of fragrant roses of every variety.
“Let’s go for a walk, Bernie.”
They strolled silently, not looking at each other and not touching, although Angel had to stifle his desire to reach for her hand again.
She led him to a stone bench under an ancient oak tree and sat down, averting her gaze. She was anxious, not controlled as she had been at the café.
Angel stretched comfortably, extending his arm across the back of the bench. He stared at her, determined to wait her out. He’d invaded her turf without invitation.
She turned to him. “Why are you smiling, Angel? Is something funny?”
“Why did you decide to become a nun?” He watched her color rise. Not unattractive.
“You called me out here to ask me about my vocation?”
“You’re a very beautiful woman, Bernie. You must have had lots of choices. I was just wondering what made you think you could be a nun.”
“You don’t think I’m a nun?” she snapped.
“Not like any nun I’ve ever known.”
She looked flustered. After a moment she said, “I was in college when I made the decision.”
“Did you date in college?” He thought that question should stir her up.
“Not a lot. Teri was the popular one. I was the bookworm. Why do you ask?”
“I’m having trouble with your decision to serve the Lord. Most pretty women would choose to be what Teri became. You could have made the same choice.” He could almost see her spine stiffen.
She raised her chin and gazed at him steadily. “I don’t have to justify my choices.” Her voice rose in timbre.
“No, but if I had gone to school with you, I would have been knocking on your door day and night. You could have my heart at your feet.” Consider that fair warning, Chica.
Spots of color appeared high on her cheeks. “That’s a little dramatic, Detective.”
“It’s my Latino nature, Bernie. We’re a very passionate people. We feel all of our emotions strongly. Love, anger, jealousy, desire.”
She squirmed under his intense scrutiny. “Are you flirting with me, Detective?”
“Would you like it if I was?”
“It would not be appropriate. I have to go now.” She rose, walking back to the chapel with a very straight back.
Angel watched her departure. She was much tougher than she looked. He hoped he was right about her true identity.
He’d have a lot to apologize for if he was wrong.
#
Teri gasped for breath. It was all she could do to walk at a moderate pace. Getting away from Angel and his prying que
stions was her only goal. He must have learned her true identity. Otherwise, he would never have spoken to her as he did.
Why was he flirting with me? She knew he found her attractive, but would he make a play for a nun? Did he know she wasn’t? Did it matter to him either way?
“Good evening, Sister Bernadette,” Father Conlyn broke into her thoughts. “You look upset. Is something wrong?” He stood smoking his pipe under the portico in front of the chapel.
“I’m fine, Father.” She leaned heavily against the fluted pillar and expelled the breath she’d been holding.
“Mother Immaculata told me your sister was missing. Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing helpful, Father.”
“What is your sister’s name?” He tapped out the ashes from the bowl of his pipe.
“Teresa. Her name is Teresa.” Now I’m lying to a priest. I’m going to fry.
“I’ll pray for her, Sister Bernadette.” He tucked the pipe into his breast pocket and entered the chapel to hear confessions.
Teri glanced around and saw Angel Garcia watching her from the end of the walk. He lifted his hand as she turned and fled into the shadows of the chapel.
Father Conlyn entered the confessional. Several nuns and a few area residents wandered into the chapel.
Teri crept behind one of the curtains. When he opened the window she poured her heart out.
“My dear child,” he said. “You cannot continue to live like this.”
“I know, Father,” she said. “But I feel that I have no choice. My life is in danger and I’m so afraid.”
“The students say your classes are excellent. You must have a gift for teaching.”
“I’m trying my best, Father but I know I’m a complete fraud.”
“Indeed.” Father Conlyn was silent for a long moment. “I cannot advise you to endanger yourself. Are you asking for absolution?”
“No, Father.” A sudden thickness in Teri’s voice betrayed her emotion. “I needed to confide in someone who could keep my confidence and bolster my courage. It seems to be fading.” Tears rolled unnoticed down Teri’s cheeks.
Father Conlyn cleared his throat as though he, too, was having trouble managing his emotions. “Let me bless you and pray for your safety.”
