The Smoking Nun

by Dakota Cassidy

  Goose, sitting on the other side of me, tapped my hand with a gnarled finger. “Have we thought about a memorial for Sister Ophelia, Trixie?”

  I wiped my mouth and sighed. As good as Goose’s creamy beef stroganoff was, I just wasn’t hungry. “I didn’t want to interfere with any plans Father Rico might have, but some of the parishioners are meeting tonight at eight for a candlelight memorial. I thought I might go, if you’d like to join me.”

  Goose bobbed his do-rag-covered head and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “You bet I do. I’m sure we all do. But we’d better get cleaned up if we’re gonna make it.”

  Nodding, I pushed my chair back and began to gather dishes. My heart was so heavy tonight. I’m sure my sudden low had a lot to do with how tired I was, but I found myself fighting the urge to break out in a fit of tears.

  “Trixie?” Coop said, bringing in a stack of dishes and placing them on the counter. “Did you learn anything at the school today?”

  We hadn’t had a chance to talk since my return after speaking with the sisters. Coop had been busy with tattoo appointments all afternoon, and I’d been busy sketching for some upcoming clients.

  I shrugged my shoulders as I began rinsing dishes and Higgs rolled up his sleeves to stack them in the dishwasher. “We found out some interesting stuff, for sure. I don’t know that it has anything to do with Sister Ophelia’s murder, though.”

  “What she means, Coop, is she doesn’t want what we found to have anything to do with Sister Ophelia’s murder,” Higgs corrected with a teasing smile.

  I made a face at him and explained to Coop what we’d learned.

  Coop began wiping down Knuckles’s glossy counters, but she nodded her head when I was through.

  “I know you won’t like this, Trixie, but I think Higgs is correct. You’re allowing your feelings to cloud your judgment. This Daniel sounds like a prime suspect. I wouldn’t take him off the list until you have absolute proof he’s innocent.”

  Sighing, I almost agreed. Each time I relayed what Daniel said, it sounded worse to my ears.

  “I’m not discounting him entirely, I’m just relegating him to the back burner for now.”

  Yes, that sounded like a big fat excuse, but my gut was talking, and I was trying to listen.

  Knuckles gave my shoulders a squeeze, pulling me against his burly side and dropping a kiss on the top of my head.

  “Trixie girl, you’re a good egg, but I’m gonna agree with everyone else here. This kid sounds like he’s capable of killing someone.”

  “Okay, okay,” I conceded, patting him on his round belly, but I still didn’t like it because it didn’t feel right, my feelings of sympathy for Sister Ophelia aside. “How about we focus on getting to the candlelight vigil for Sister Ophelia and talk about the rest of this later?”

  “Deal,” Knuckles agreed. “And guys? Don’t worry about the rest of this, I’ll clean it up when we get back.”

  But Coop shook her head as she pulled her auburn hair up on top of her head and secured it with a rubber band. “No, Knuckles. That’s not how we do it. We clean up after ourselves, especially when we’re in someone else’s home. It means we respect them, and I definitely respect you.”

  Knuckles tweaked her cheek and grinned, dropping a kiss on the top of her head, too. “I like you, too, Coopie.”

  She stared up at him, and I knew she was trying to smile on the outside, the way her heart was smiling on the inside.

  I loved that Coop was so free with her heart. She never held back a compliment or any of the emotions she was beginning to experience. In most cases, that was a good thing. Though, I wondered if there wouldn’t come a time when she would need to keep her cards closer to her chest.

  For now, I’d just admire her freedom to express herself and revel in the fact that, each day, she made a new milestone and became more and more a part of this family of strays we’d patched together.

  On that note, I needed some air before this candlelight vigil. Calling Jeff, I grabbed his leash and latched it to his collar. “I’ll take Jeff for a walk before we go.”

  “Thanks, Trixie,” Higgs called over his broad shoulder from the kitchen as I opened the door and ran down the steps, with Jeff pulling me the entire way.

  Jeff loved to walk, and I was happy to accommodate. Not only was it good for me to get my heart pumping, but it allowed Jeff to be the real him. He could talk to Coop and me, express any worries or troubles he was having with us as his sounding board, before he had to go back to his life as someone’s pet.

  I blew out a breath as we strolled along our darkened neighborhood, tired and worried that I hadn’t heard anything from Tansy about Daniel or Sister Ann.

  “You okay there, Trix?” Jeff asked in his light Bostonian accent as he lifted his leg on his favorite maple tree. Who am I kidding, all the trees lining the street were Jeff’s favorite.

  “I’m fine, Jeff,” I whispered, sitting on my haunches to give him a hug around his neck. “How are you these days? I feel like I haven’t checked in enough.”

  He nuzzled my cheek and licked my nose. “As good as can be expected when you’re stuck in a dog’s body. But the real question is, how are you? I’m wicked sorry about the sister. She used to sneak me scraps of her lunch all the time when she came to help feed the guys at the shelter.”

  I scratched his ears and smiled at his concern for me. Jeff was stuck in the body of a dog with the sometime mentality of a twelve-year-old, but he was as sweet as pie, and if not for he and Livingston, I’m not sure anyone would have found us the night both Coop and I were kidnapped by Dr. Fabrizio and Detective Griswald. I’d never forget that as long as I lived.

  “Determined to figure out who killed her, is how I am. Which, speaking of, can you keep an ear out tonight at the vigil? No one suspects the unassuming dog. You’re kind of my ace in the hole,” I teased.

  He circled my legs, brushing up against me as he wound around my calves. “Aw, you don’t think Sister Ophelia’s killer will show up to the vigil, do ya?”

  As the wind picked up, I shivered and tucked my sweater around me a little tighter, watching the shadows from the branches play against the houses along the street.

  “I’ve heard some killers go back to the scene of the crime. So anything’s possible, Jeff, but what I really want to know is if anyone knows about this nun who was having an affair. I think that’s more likely to come up in conversation than the killer showing.”

  “An affair, huh? You can bet for sure I’ll keep an ear out and report back to ya if I hear anything worth repeating. But maybe I won’t have to. Maybe you’ll sketch something like you did the last time you were huntin’ a killer. That was ca-ra-zy pants.”

  Closing my eyes, I could only hope that were true. The last murder, the demon in me (we’d finally discovered his name is Artur), rather than become violent and unruly, had instead, through me, sketched what he’d seen the night Dr. Mickey, a local dentist, was killed. It had turned out to be very helpful once we understood what the heck it all meant.

  But I hadn’t had an attack in months now, and my sketches were done without the aid of Artur. Don’t get me wrong, I know he’s still lurking in there, his greasy black claws firmly latched on to my soul, but life had been quite peaceful since the mess with Dr. Fabrizio.

  I can’t say that makes me unhappy, even though I know I need to spend some serious time investigating what’s going on inside me. I wanted to believe Artur would up and disappear so I didn’t have to think about exorcisms and all manner of supernatural goings on. But I also knew that was as unlikely as me ever being allowed to return to the church as a nun.

  “We’ll see, but I wouldn’t count on it. It’s been a while since I last sketched with Artur as my guide. So for now, just be my eyes and ears, okay?”

  “You bet, Trix. Promise me one thing though?”

  “Anything. Well,” I added on a chuckle, “almost anything. There’ll be no more sausage for you on my watch, buddy. I w
ant to indulge the human in you as much as the next person, but that was a complete mess and it stunk to high heaven.”

  Jeff let his head hang between his shoulders as he sniffed the sidewalk. “Ugh. That was wicked bad. Didn’t feel right for days.”

  Chuckling once more, I nodded and wrinkled my nose. “It sure was. I didn’t think we’d ever get the smell out of the throw rug in the living room. Anyway, what do you want me to promise, buddy?”

  “Promise you’ll stay safe. If this person’s out there, whackin’ nuns, he’ll whack just about anyone in his path. I don’t want that anyone to be you. I only have you guys, unless you wanna tell Higgs I can talk. I don’t know what the heck I’d do if I couldn’t talk to you and Coopie, and even that flappy-mouth feather coat on wheels of yours. I’d miss ya somethin’ awful.”

  Dropping a kiss on his head before rising, I whispered, “I love you, Jeff.”

  “I love you, too, Trix.”

  As we walked back to Knuckles’s, passing the houses of our neighbors in all their Craftsman glory, seeing the heads of tulips poking out from various lighted gardens, I sent up a silent request to Sister Ophelia.

  Hey, up there, Sister Ophelia. I hope you’re settling in and there’s plenty of Unsolved Mysteries to watch. I know you’ll rule the roost in no time flat. But while you get situated and establish supremacy over the remote control, some ideas on who killed you would be most appreciated.

  Miss you,

  Trixie

  Chapter 6

  Coop and I stood outside Our Lady of Perpetual Grace by the long string of steps leading to the doors, candles in hand as a light mist of rain began. Goose and Knuckles were off somewhere in the crowd, while Higgs stood with some of the men from the shelter who were still having trouble dealing with the death of their beloved Sister Ophelia and the fear of a killer on the loose.

  So many people had shown up to pay their respects, from the children at Our Lady’s middle school, accompanied by their parents, to parishioners galore.

  Carla Ratagucci waved to me, her eyes shiny with tears. Even Carla, who’d sparred with my favorite nun, had loved her. My fervent hope, despite my misgivings about the existence and rules of Heaven, was that Sister Ophelia had grabbed a soft, cushy cloud to sit on while her legs dangled and she watched all these devoted people gathered in her honor.

  As each battery-operated candle illuminated, the sidewalk dotted with light and the hushed voices of mourners, I swallowed back more tears. I wasn’t looking forward to saying goodbye.

  My tired mind continued to twirl theory after theory around in my fried brain, but I kept coming up with the one answer I didn’t like. It was entirely possible Daniel had killed Sister Ophelia.

  He had motive. He had the strength. He likely had the opportunity, if what Higgs said about his negligent parents was true.

  “Miss Marple.” Tansy drawled her nickname for me in my ear. “How are we this eve, love?”

  I gave her a bleak smile but found myself warmed by her concern. “Tired. How goes the investigation?”

  “Like molasses uphill in the winter. I’m still waiting on prelims from the coroner about what was used to strangle the old gal. It surely wasn’t anything obvious. Nothing—not to my naked eye, anyway—was visible on her neck. Whatever it was, it didn’t cut her skin. Yet whoever did it was strong—incredibly strong.”

  Those words made me think of Daniel, and I had to fight a cringe. “Did you talk to Daniel?”

  “I bloody well did,” she scoffed in disgust, scuffing her feet against the rippled sidewalk and squinting off into the distance. “What a three-ring circus that turned into. His parents, some lot of nonces they are, eh?”

  Nodding, I shook my head in complete understanding. The more I heard about the Colettis, the more I sympathized with Daniel’s plight. “Ah, so I guess you were treated to the Colettis’ special brand of snobbery? Lovely pair, aren’t they?”

  She scoffed again and made a face, the glow of the candlelight illuminating her aggravation. “They’re certainly no treat, love. They definitely thought us hoi polloi if I ever did see.”

  I gave her a confused glance. “Hoi who?”

  “Hoi polloi, you Yank,” she teased with a swift wink. “It means they thought we were nothing more than mere commoners.”

  I smiled and nodded. “Like I said. Snobs. Anyway, Daniel…?”

  “Yes, the lad. He has a solid alibi for where he was the night Sister Ophelia was murdered.”

  I gripped the candle tight and held my breath. “Where was he?”

  “In a private jet on his way back from some fundraiser his parents hosted in Vancouver, BC. La-di-da, eh?”

  “And it’s a solid alibi? No if, ands or buts?”

  “Solid as Jason Momoa’s abs, darling.”

  My shoulders sagged in relief and every muscle in my body enjoyed a brief respite. “I hate to tell you, but I’m glad to hear that. I know it doesn’t bring us any closer to the killer, but I talked to the sisters at the school today, and they told me he has it pretty rough with those two for parents.”

  “Hah! I don’t doubt that. Getting them to speak to me, even when it was in the lad’s best interest, was like making an appointment with the good Lord himself. Mr. Coletti had a whole team of attorneys lined up before we could ask him a simple question. And the Missus? Oi! Smelled like my old vicar after a night of vespers.”

  So Tansy had noticed her drinking, too? I really was off my game. “Okay, so we can cross him off our list. Did you speak to Sister Ann? Did she tell you what she heard in the coat closet at the school? I told her to call you with the information.”

  “She did, and we’re going to canvass all the nuns again tomorrow. Maybe someone else heard, too. Someone must know if one of the other nuns is a little loosey-goosey, shouldn’t they? Gossip spreads like wildfire in the church, I hear. They’re a bit like hospitals. Doctors and nurses are always having affairs.”

  I tried not to bristle at the suggestion my former kind were all like a batch of dirty birds, breaking their vows left and right, but the part about gossip couldn’t be denied. There was plenty of that to go around, even if it was mostly harmless chatter.

  In fact, I’d bet my bippy I’d been the subject of plenty of wagging tongues once I’d skulked off from St. Aloysius, so I couldn’t deny gossip existed.

  Tansy must have noticed me cringe, because she rubbed my arm and threw me an apologetic glance.

  “Bah, that came out wrong, Trixie. My apologies.”

  “Not necessary. I understand we see the landscape of the church from very different perspectives. There is a lot of chatter from the peanut gallery, that’s true and affairs do happen. But if what Sister Ann said is correct, that’s a bigger scandal than I’ve ever seen up close and personal. At Saint Aloysius, the most scandalous thing to happen was when Sister Bettina used her rosary to fish a bobby pin from the toilet. We talked about that for days on end.”

  Tansy’s chuckle was low as the wind whispered through her hair. “Though, definitely not the same as murder. Anyway, we’re talking to everyone at this point and doing all the appropriate background checks. We even did one on Father Rico.”

  The wind began to really pick up, making me regret not bringing a warmer jacket. I tucked my chin into the neck of my hoodie. “And?”

  “Did you know he wasn’t always a priest? He used to work at a gas station in Kansas City, Missouri, back in the late ’80s.”

  “Really?” But then I shrugged. That wasn’t as uncommon a story as one would think. “It doesn’t surprise me, though. Lots of people come to faith later in life.”

  “Indeed. Though, can’t say as I blame him for turning to the church after what he went through.”

  I didn’t know a lot about Father Rico’s background other than he’d been at Our Lady Since the early 2000s and he was a friend of Higgs’s. “Went through? What happened to him?”

  “He was held hostage by some disgruntled employee of the gas stati
on he worked for. Mind you, negotiations went on with his captor for twenty-two bloody hours.”

  “That’s awful! Poor Father Rico. I had no idea his past was so tragic. Did they catch the guy who held him hostage?”

  She gave me one of her direct gazes. “He’s dead. Taken out by a sharpshooter on the scene.”

  “Any lingering angry family members who hold Father Rico responsible for the death of a loved one?”

  Goodness knew, I’d seen plenty of victim blaming in the first case I’d been caught up in with Higgs, and even some of the cases I went on with Tansy. It wasn’t unheard of for a family member to hold the person their loved one harmed responsible for their death.

  She winked at me and nudged my shoulder before she pulled her phone out of her blazer pocket. “You’re thinking more like a copper every day, Trixie love.” She showed me her phone, and an article she’d pulled up from the Kansas City Star. “Only one remaining survivor to the hostage-taker—whose name was Leslie Turner, as a by the by. The relative was his mother, and she died ten years ago of heart failure. His was the usual MO. Loner, angry, sullen. Read the article about it. That’s how I know Father Rico went off to seminary after that. He said, and I quote, ‘Angels surrounded me and held me in their arms the entire time I was held hostage. I was never afraid once because I knew the Lord would keep me safe.’”

  “Wow,” I whispered in awe as I skimmed the article. That was some real, true faith. The kind of faith I wasn’t so sure I still had not just in my head, but deep in my heart. “He’s a wonderful vessel for the Lord. I can tell you true, his sermons are full of love and hope, and I’m so glad he found his calling. But that still leaves us at square one. I mean, that’s if you’re certain Leslie Turner has no angry loved ones, looking to exact revenge by way of killing Father Rico’s crew.”

  “Not a one, and Deacon Cameron and Deacon Delacorte? Also clean as whistles, but it wouldn’t hurt to have a chat with them if you’re up to it. They were both a little on edge today, which is totally understandable, given their colleague was so brutally murdered.”