Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  Sister Lou took Jessica’s hand in both of hers. “Jess, you’re in my thoughts and prayers.”

  Jessica’s blue eyes were bloodshot but dry. She greeted Sister Lou in a low voice. “Thank you, Lou. Thank you for coming.”

  Sister Lou released Jessica’s hand. She took a final look at Nestor’s profile and the tears crawling unheeded down his cheeks, before making room for the guests behind her, waiting to express their condolences.

  Nestor was learning a bitter lesson about forgiveness and the fact that tomorrow’s never promised. Sister Lou knew what he was feeling. She was getting a forced refresher of the same lesson.

  * * *

  “What does it say about the people at Maurice Jordan’s wake that, even dead, he was still the most well-liked person in the room?” Shari settled onto the armchair in her tiny apartment’s even tinier living room. She’d gathered Sister Lou and Chris there after the wake.

  “It wouldn’t have been wise for anyone to say anything negative about him at his own wake.” Chris lowered his half-empty glass of lemonade.

  “How are we supposed to figure out who wanted him dead?” Shari sipped her lemonade as she regarded Chris seated beside Sister Lou on the sofa. She’d lay odds he’d been an altar boy.

  Shari wasn’t equipped for company. She didn’t have serving trays, coasters, or even those festive party napkins. It was a choice rather than an oversight. Socializing was a slippery slope toward planting roots. But Sister Lou had wanted to get their impressions while they were still fresh, so Shari had suggested that Chris take them to her apartment, which was the closest to the funeral home. It had made sense at the time.

  Shari had served Sister Lou and Chris their lemonades before making a second trip into her tiny kitchen for her own glass. In her living room, she’d taken the secondhand armchair, leaving the secondhand sofa for her guests. That didn’t seem very hospitable now, watching Chris shift on the lumpy, rock-hard cushions for the third time in less than fifteen minutes.

  Shari turned her attention to Sister Lou. “Who was that good-looking older guy you chased out of the funeral home?”

  “Emmett Wagner, Jess’s lover.” Sister Lou sipped her lemonade.

  Shari’s jaw dropped. There was a moment of stunned silence before she could speak. “Jessica Jordan, Doctor Jordan’s widow?”

  “Why do you think he’s her lover?” Chris asked.

  “She told me.” Sister Lou leaned back onto the sofa. “They’ve been together for several months.”

  “Months?” Shari echoed in amazement.

  Sister Lou nodded. “I think Mo suspected Jess was having an affair. Nestor told me he knows about their relationship.”

  “How did he know?” There was concern in Chris’s voice.

  “Apparently, Emmett is often at Jess’s house.” Sister Lou’s eyebrows knitted. “Nestor’s dealing with a lot right now. He’s angry about his mother’s affair and grieving that he and Mo hadn’t reconciled before Mo’s death.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Chris sounded as though he meant it.

  “So am I.” Sister Lou sighed. “We should include Emmett on our list of suspects. He has a compelling motive—Jess.”

  Shari was amused. “Just because they’re having sex doesn’t mean they’re in love, Sister Lou.”

  “True.” Sister Lou tilted her head. “But a man who attends the funeral of his lover’s husband is wearing his heart on his sleeve.”

  That was a very good—and very romantic—point. Maybe Sister Lou knew more about life than Shari had thought.

  Shari rose to get a pen and a writing tablet from the bookcase tucked into a back corner of her Spartan living room. A battered television and a stereo system that had cost the earth—but had been worth it—joined her secondhand sofa, armchair, and bookcase in the cramped space the building manager called a “living room.” The blank beige walls and plain white venetian blinds probably made it seem as though she was still moving in. In fact, Shari had been living in her apartment for two months. She was as moved in as she was ever going to be.

  “We have four people on our suspects list.” Shari wrote the names as she returned to her seat. “Jessica Jordan, Maurice’s widow; Kevin Appleby, his partner; Nestor Jordan, his son; and Emmett Wagner, Jessica’s lover.”

  Chris seemed surprised. “Why’s Nestor on the list?”

  “You heard Sister Lou.” Shari gestured toward his aunt. “Nestor had had a grudge against his father for years.”

  Chris shook his head. “If this grudge was so volatile, why did it take him years to act?”

  “I don’t know.” Shari settled back onto her armchair. “But if you disagree with me, make your own list.”

  “I don’t think we should include someone if we don’t have a strong motive for them.” Chris folded his arms over his broad chest. “It would give the sheriff’s deputies the wrong impression.”

  Shari looked up from her list. “Why would our list give the deputies the wrong impression?”

  Chris’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “Aren’t you going to give them the list for their investigation?”

  Sister Lou shifted toward her nephew. “We’re going to look into these individuals ourselves. As you said, we don’t want to label someone as a suspect to the deputies unless we have strong evidence.”

  “Aunt Lou, you’re putting yourself in danger.” There was clear concern in Chris’s expression, and in his voice.

  Shari would have felt sorry for him if she wasn’t still stewing over his insulting comments about her profession.

  “I thought you said you were going to help us.” Shari crossed her legs, balancing her writing tablet on her right knee. “You haven’t contributed even one name.”

  Chris arched an eyebrow. “I can offer you insight instead. I spoke with an alumnus who works for Buffalo East Christian University, where Maurice worked. He said that since the day Justin Carr joined the theology faculty, he’s been after Maurice’s position as head of the theology department.”

  “Why does the alumnus believe that?” There was more than a spark of interest in Sister Lou’s voice.

  Chris balanced his right ankle on his left knee. “Carr submits his papers to the same journals as Maurice. Whenever Maurice was quoted in a publication, Carr would send a press release about himself to the same magazine. But what’s worse is that as soon as the university announced Maurice’s death, Carr offered to find an adjunct for his own classes so that he could take over Maurice’s upper-level courses.”

  Sister Lou wore an expression of disgust. “That’s incredibly distasteful.”

  “I agree.” Shari wrinkled her nose. “We should definitely add Doctor Carr to our list of suspects. Why did it take you so long to give us this information?”

  Chris looked unhappy. “I’d hoped you both would have changed your minds about this investigation.”

  “Not a chance.” Shari scribbled Justin Carr’s name onto their list. “Buckle up, pal. This operation has launched. Who are we going to tackle first?”

  “Chris’s information about Justin Carr is too compelling to ignore.” Sister Lou stared into her empty lemonade glass. “But I want to find Emmett Wagner. We didn’t finish our conversation.”

  Shari exchanged a glance with Chris. Had he also heard the coldness in Sister Lou’s voice? “All right, we’ll find Emmett in the morning.”

  * * *

  “You can play navigator.” Shari passed to Sister Lou the directions to Fit Up: A Health Space, on Wednesday morning.

  Sister Lou buckled herself into the passenger seat of Shari’s ancient sage green, four-door Honda Civic before taking the two sheets of paper. “Don’t you have a GPS system?”

  “I always print directions when I have to drive to someplace unfamiliar, just in case my navigation system loses its connection.” Shari had learned the importance of preparation at a young age.

  “Good idea.” Sister Lou skimmed the sheets, then waited for further instruction
s.

  “After you left last night, I looked up Emmett Wagner on Facebook.”

  “You’re on social media? You don’t seem the social media type.” Sister Lou sounded incredulous.

  “I’m not. That’s why I’m not on social media. I’m on Facebook.” Shari backed out of her parking space in the motherhouse lot. “I signed up last night.”

  “You do know that Facebook is social media, don’t you?” Sister Lou’s dry tone surprised Shari. She wasn’t used to the sister being sassy. Her sarcasm was growing on Shari, though. It made her seem more . . . approachable. “You signed up just to friend Emmett Wagner?”

  Shari scowled. She checked the traffic before merging into it. “Not to friend him, to research him. He’s not Facebook Friends with Jessica Jordan.”

  “That’s surprising. What else have you learned?”

  “He’s fifty-eight, divorced three times, and has seven kids. He pays alimony to three ex-wives and child support for all seven children.”

  “Those are enormous financial responsibilities. I wonder whether Jess knows.”

  Shari snorted. “I doubt it. How would he bring something like that up? ‘I’m sorry, but I’m on a budget’?”

  “Jess said she never planned to leave Maurice for Emmett. She was only with Emmett for sex.”

  The shock of hearing that statement from a Catholic sister gave Shari a coughing fit.

  Sister Lou shifted on her seat and leaned toward Shari. “Are you OK?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  Sister Lou returned to her contemplation of the passing scenery. “Still, why would Jess stay in a relationship for so long if she wasn’t going to leave Mo?”

  “Maybe she knew Maurice was going to leave her—one way or another.”

  Tension dropped into her sedan, settling between her and Sister Lou. The silence lasted one beat, then two. Shari merged onto Interstate 90, heading east to Buffalo. They’d missed the rush hour. Traffic on the interstate moved at a brisk pace. Shari worked her way into the far left lane.

  Sister Lou sighed. “I hate to suspect her, but I need to know.”

  “I understand. Maurice was your friend. She was his wife. It would be easier if his killer was a stranger to you.”

  The silence felt heavy with sorrow this time.

  “Does Chris dislike all reporters, or is it just me?” Shari ended the quiet, struggling to sound casual. In truth, the question worried her more than she wanted to admit, even to herself.

  Sister Lou hesitated. “Have you asked him?”

  “Twice. Each time, he changed the subject.” When Sister Lou remained silent, Shari continued. “Have I offended him?”

  “Not that I know of.”

  Shari smothered a sigh. Trying to get information about Chris from Sister Lou was worse than pulling teeth. Much worse. It must be a family loyalty thing, something she had no experience with.

  She tried another strategy. “Did he have a bad experience with the media?”

  The rustling coming from the passenger seat indicated that Sister Lou had shifted to face Shari again. “Chris is the best person to answer questions about Chris. He’ll tell you in time. Just be patient.”

  “Fair enough.” Shari inclined her head in acceptance.

  In the companionable silence, Shari allowed herself the opportunity to enjoy the vivid blue sky, sparsely dotted by fluffy white clouds. A gentle breeze ruffled the forest-green treetops that followed the interstate’s winding path.

  They were five miles from Buffalo when Sister Lou spoke up. “I should have made an appointment with Emmett.”

  Shari slumped in her seat. Sister Lou had offered variations of that theme since last night. “I know you don’t like to arrive anywhere unannounced, but part of our strategy involves the element of surprise.”

  “We’ll be the ones surprised if he refuses to see us.”

  “We don’t want to give Emmett time to prepare for us. We want his answers to our questions to be honest and unrehearsed.”

  “It feels rude.” Sister Lou turned away to stare out of her passenger-side window.

  “‘Well-behaved women seldom make history,’ Sister Lou.” Shari smiled as she quoted Laurel Thatcher Ulrich, a Pulitzer-Prize-winning historian.

  “I’m not trying to make history. I just want to know who killed my friend, and why.”

  Shari contemplated the winding freeway in front of her, dotted on either side by the still-green trees. She glanced toward Sister Lou. “Then we want the same thing. We’re just going about it in different ways.”

  “All right. We’ll try your way.” A slight smile curved the older woman’s lips.

  “You won’t regret it.”

  Sister Lou may be amused, but Shari knew her strategy was right. For the first time in a long time—perhaps ever—she felt as though she knew what she was doing.

  Chapter 14

  Fit Up: A Health Space looked more like a hotel than an exercise facility. Sister Lou studied the company as Shari pulled into the parking lot that surrounded it. The building reminded Sister Lou of a right triangle. Its façade was its longest side, rising at an angle to meet its rear. As Shari drove her car around the lot looking for a parking space, Sister Lou leaned forward to peer into the glass and metal building. The view was good advertising for the business.

  Through the clear glass walls, she could see the mini food court on the first floor. On the upper story, most of the exercise equipment—treadmills, weight machines, ellipticals, and more—were in use.

  It was a nice facility, but Sister Lou still couldn’t wrap her mind around the reason people would choose to jog indoors. She was a Los Angeles transplant living in Briar Coast, but she still much preferred to run outside. It had to be pretty darn cold for her and Sister Carmen to retreat to the college’s fitness facility, to which the congregation had free membership.

  Shari stopped her car to wait for another driver to pull out of a space toward the middle of the lot. “It’s nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning. How could this place be packed? Don’t these people have to work?”

  Sister Lou settled back on her seat. “Not everyone works an eight-to-five job.”

  “I don’t have an eight-to-five job, either,” Shari groused. “Remember, I was still on the clock while you and Chris were sipping lemonade in my living room at nine o’clock last night.”

  “The lemonade was delicious. The company was good, too.” Sister Lou smiled as she caught Shari’s startled look.

  “Thanks.” The reporter pulled into the now available space. “Finally.”

  The wait hadn’t been that long. “Patience is a virtue.”

  Shari tossed Sister Lou a dry look as she climbed from the car. “Time is money.”

  Sister Lou set a brisk pace across the parking lot. Shari strode beside her. Unlike her companion, Sister Lou wasn’t in a hurry. She was trying to outpace her nerves. It was a habit she’d had since childhood and turned up whenever she faced tests or bullies or new experiences. Interviewing a murder suspect qualified as a new experience.

  The smell of rich soil and cut grass teased her senses, cajoling her to slow down and live in the moment. The landscaping streaked around the facility like an outdoor track. The selection of plants was pleasing and well plotted with verdant evergreens, vibrant perennials, and stunning annuals. The diverse selection meant the landscape would be alive in every season.

  Once inside the exercise facility, Sister Lou took a moment to get her bearings. The lobby was wide and modern, and filled with natural light from the glass exterior walls. To the right was a large fitness shop. To the left was a variety of eateries offering juices, vegan dishes, salads, and vegetarian meals.

  An information counter sat in the center of the floor. Sister Lou approached the young, beautiful, and fit couple who staffed it.

  “Good morning.” The young man with flowing blond hair looked like he belonged on the cover of a historical romance novel. He gave Sister Lou a dubious look, but
his smile warmed for Shari. “How can I help you?”

  Sister Lou straightened her shoulders and adopted an authoritative tone. “We’d like to speak with Emmett Wagner, please.”

  The model-thin young woman with big dark eyes and alabaster skin rose from her chair to step forward. Her dark hair was styled in a pixie cut, making her look like a disgruntled Disney fairy. “Do you have an appointment?”

  The question brought Sister Lou’s thoughts to a screeching halt. This is what she’d worried about. After driving all this way, were they really going to be turned away at the information center?

  “Tell Mr. Wagner that we want to discuss Jessica Jordan. He’ll want to talk with us.” The bold look in Shari’s eyes dared the other woman to refuse.

  Sister Lou was struck by Shari’s bravado. She never would have had the guts to throw down such a challenge.

  Would it work? Sister Lou barely breathed as the sullen fairy stabbed a number into the desk phone. Her call must have been answered right away.

  “Some women want to talk to you about Jessica Jordan.” She listened, then cradled the phone. “He’s on his way.” Her tone was huffy when she spoke to Sister Lou and she ignored Shari.

  “Thank you.” Sister Lou inclined her head toward the fuming fairy before leading Shari a few steps from the counter. Hopefully, the waves of ill will would dissipate with distance. They spent their wait time window shopping at the novelty store and studying the food court menus.

  “Isn’t that him?” Shari nodded in the direction of the escalators.

  “Yes.” Sister Lou was surprised by how quickly Emmett had arrived.

  He wore a brick-red jersey, navy running pants, and black sneakers.

  “Is that the dress code?” Shari asked the question Sister Lou had been thinking.

  Emmett stopped in front of Sister Lou. “Is Jess OK?”

  “No, her husband just died.” Shari’s voice was packed with sarcasm.

  Emmett spun toward the reporter. “Who are you?”