Sister Lou blinked again. “I’m not law enforcement.”
Still off balance, Wanda stuttered. “Well, I figured you’d already started your own investigation. During the wake, I saw you speaking with the usual murder suspects: the wife, son, colleague, and business partner.”
Sister Lou was appalled that someone had noticed her questioning people at a wake. Had other people realized what she was doing? “Wanda, of course I would express my condolences to Maurice’s family during his wake.”
“What about Kevin Appleby?” Kevin’s name tripped off of Wanda’s tongue with great familiarity. How well did she know the people in Maurice’s life? An uncomfortable feeling about Wanda’s involvement in Maurice’s murder stirred.
“Kevin isn’t under suspicion.”
“That’s because the deputies don’t have a clue. I heard they spent days questioning your congregation. How does that make any sense?” Wanda rolled her hazel eyes.
“I don’t have a connection to Goodwin. Why would he speak with me?” Much less answer my questions about his relationship with Maurice?
“You didn’t have a connection to Kevin Appleby either, but that didn’t stop you from speaking with him the other night.”
“It’s not my place to question Goodwin. I don’t have the authority to compel him to speak with me.” Sister Lou leaned back in her chair, physically and mentally putting distance between herself and Wanda’s proposal.
Wanda reached across the small circular table to take hold of Sister Lou’s hand. “Sister Lou, please. Someone has to find Doctor J’s killer.”
“You should go back to the sheriff’s office and convince the deputies to question Goodwin.”
Wanda collapsed back against her chair. “I’d have better luck teaching a pig to fly.”
Wanda had a point.
But murder investigations are so far out of my comfort zone, I might as well be in another dimension.
Sister Lou took a deep breath. “All right. I’ll do it.”
But how do I convince Goodwin to speak with me?
* * *
Chris hadn’t tasted fear like this since his parents’ death. “You met with Wanda McClane, a complete stranger, by yourself?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Chris.” His aunt was exasperated. “For the third time, yes, I met with a complete stranger on my own. I can cross the street without adult supervision as well.”
Chris scowled. “Aunt Lou, Maurice was murdered. How do you know Wanda McClane didn’t kill him? Anything could have happened to you.”
“But nothing did.” Shari’s reasonable tone set his teeth on edge. “Your aunt’s fine, Chris. Let’s move on now.”
Chris clenched his teeth. Shari couldn’t begin to comprehend his fear at the thought of losing the last living member of his family.
He, Sister Lou, and Shari had retreated to Sister Lou’s room for privacy after dinner. Sister Lou had settled onto her overstuffed armchair on Chris’s left. Shari sat across from him, alone on the loveseat. Chris sat on the sofa, surrounded by anxiety.
“Thank you, Shari.” Sister Lou inclined her head toward the reporter. “I called your office, but I went straight into your voicemail.”
“My editor insisted I cover the senior arts festival.” Shari’s shoulders rose and fell with a disgruntled sigh. “Trust me. I would’ve much rather been with you.”
“Then you both could have been in danger.” Chris paused at the startled expression on Shari’s face.
He’d surprised himself, too. That statement had come out far more vehemently than he’d intended. But he was sincere. Anything could have happened to them before, during, or after meeting with a perfect stranger in connection with a murder.
Am I the only one on this team approaching this investigation with a healthy dose of caution?
Shari seemed to recover from Chris’s outburst and teased him with her smile. “I didn’t know you cared, Slick.”
Chris shook his head at her antics. “Someone needs to. We’re not planning a fund-raiser or a lecture event. We’re trying to catch a killer. We have to be careful.”
“OK. You’ve made your point a couple of times now. Take a breath.” Shari turned back to Sister Lou. “What do you know about Goodwin Barrow?”
Chris stared at her. He’d just made an impassioned plea for their safety, and she’d told him to take a breath. Chris rubbed his eyes with his thumb and middle finger. It was going to be a long investigation.
“Goodwin is the editorial director of a well-regarded, conservative theology magazine, I think.” Sister Lou’s forehead furrowed as she appeared to search her memory.
“Not anymore.” Chris lifted his right ankle to his left knee. “According to one of the college’s donors, the publication dismissed him in early August, right before the school year started.”
Sister Lou’s eyebrows rose. “They did? Why?”
“Speculation is that the publication has a lot of new editorial advisory board members.” Chris shrugged. “They were tired of Barrow rejecting Maurice’s article submissions, seemingly without valid reasons. When he refused to agree to publish Maurice’s research papers in the future, they let him go.”
“Good for them.” Sister Lou nodded.
“You have a lot of connections in this community.” Shari’s tone was pensive.
Chris turned to meet her curious gaze. “It helps with the fund-raising work that I do for the college.”
“What’s Goodwin doing now?” Sister Lou asked.
“He’s the new editorial director of The Catholic Corner.” Chris saw the startled look in his aunt’s eyes. Yes, Goodwin Barrow had taken a significant step backward in his career.
“What’s The Catholic Corner?” Shari asked.
“It’s a small, monthly, conservative Catholic newspaper.” Chris met Shari’s gaze. “But instead of asking about Barrow, a better question would be: What do we know about Wanda McClane? How do we know she’s not sending us on a wild goose chase?”
“I did an Internet search on her name.” Shari pulled a notepad from her oversized brick-red purse. “She’s in her fifties, if she posted her actual birthday on social media.”
“What makes you think she wouldn’t?” Chris asked.
Shari looked up at him. “Would you?”
She had a point. Chris arched an eyebrow. “I’m surprised that you have social media accounts. You seem so . . . antisocial.”
Shari straightened on the loveseat. “It’s just for research.” She shook her notepad. “Do you mind?”
“Sorry.” He struggled not to smile. If he did, she’d probably toss the blue spiral writing pad at him.
Shari returned to her notes. “Wanda McClane has worked as an administrative assistant at a Catholic elementary school for more than twenty years. She’s also a lectern for the church that the school’s affiliated with.”
Chris’s scowl deepened. “That doesn’t mean she’s not crazy.”
“Still, her theory has validity.” Sister Lou had a faraway look in her eyes. “Based on the condition of his hotel room, it appears Maurice’s murder was a crime of passion. I don’t think his killer planned to hurt him. It’s possible that a disagreement got out of control. We should talk with Goodwin.”
“Wait a minute.” Chris rubbed the back of his neck. Tension was building in the muscles there. “First you suspected Maurice’s wife and her lover, which seemed to make sense. It was a classic case of jealousy. Then you suspected Kevin Appleby, and money was the motive. Now you think Goodwin Barrow killed Maurice to prevent his research on Mary Magdalene from getting out? How many times are we going to switch motives?”
“We don’t know why anyone would want to kill Mo.” Sister Lou’s voice was husky with pain. “That’s why we need to look at all of the angles. I don’t want to take the same myopic view that the deputies are taking.”
“I understand, Sister Lou.” Shari leaned forward on the sky-blue loveseat. “But Chris has a point. We hav
e to be careful not to jump at every theory that someone brings us. I think I should do more research on Goodwin Barrow and Wanda McClane.”
“That’s a good idea.” Chris ignored the sharp look the reporter gave him. Her surprise at his praise couldn’t be any greater than his surprise that she would ever agree with anything he said. “Aunt Lou, how do we know Wanda McClane’s not lying to us?”
Sister Lou pursed her lips. “I believe her, Chris. She seemed genuinely concerned.”
“We’re playing guessing games with a murder investigation, and we aren’t trained professionals.” He shared a glance between Shari and Sister Lou. “What happens if we stumble around and actually find the killer? What do we do then?”
Sister Lou frowned. “We’ll take that information to the deputies, of course.”
Chris shifted forward on the sofa, angling his legs toward his aunt. “Then we should leave the entire investigation to the deputies.”
“They don’t seem to be doing any better than we are.” Shari’s tone was dry.
Sister Lou sighed. “You know as well as I do that the deputies won’t listen to us unless we present them with the dates, costs, and timelines of hard evidence pointing to the killer, and wrap that evidence in a red lace ribbon.”
“This is ridiculous.” Chris straightened from the sofa and paced away from the two women. “You have to endanger yourself to make their job easier on them? Is that what you’re telling me? You have to push back, Aunt Lou. Tell them you won’t do their job for them.”
Sister Lou shook her head. “Chris, we should at least investigate the information Wanda McClane gave us.”
Chris grew stubborn. “Tell the deputies to do it.”
Sister Lou matched his obstinacy. “If we review the information, we’ll know whether it’s something we should insist the deputies pursue.”
The tension was getting worse. Chris rubbed the back of his neck again as he wandered his aunt’s living room. “Aunt Lou, I’m concerned for your safety. I love you, and I want you to be safe. You’re the only family I have left.”
Shari rose to her feet hesitantly. “Perhaps I should leave.”
Sister Lou extended her right hand toward her new friend. “No, you’re a part of this.”
“You shouldn’t be investigating murders, either.” Chris turned his frown to Shari. “I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
She blinked at him. “I didn’t know you cared, Slick.”
Chris ignored her.
Sister Lou stood. “I want to be safe, too. I want to live long enough to tell your children all of the embarrassing moments of your childhood. But I also need to know who killed my friend.”
Chris stilled, considering his aunt from across the room. She was wrong to involve herself in this investigation. She wasn’t in law enforcement. She didn’t know what she was doing. Maurice Jordan was her friend, but he was her family, and he wanted her to stop this madness.
But she was also right. She wasn’t investigating a murder on a whim, out of curiosity, or because she was bored. Her actions were motivated by love for a good friend. There was no greater motivation.
Chris faced his aunt. “Promise me that you’ll be careful.”
Sister Lou’s smile was unsteady. “I promise to do my best. I’m not looking for trouble, Chris. I’m looking for answers.”
“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” Chris turned toward the door. “I’ll see if I can get more information on Goodwin Barrow.”
Chris closed his aunt’s door behind him. He’d stop trying to convince her to drop the case. Instead, he’d have to do what he could to keep her safe, to keep them all safe.
Chapter 17
“We appreciate your meeting with us.” Sister Lou sat on one of the cream-colored tweed guest chairs on the other side of Goodwin Barrow’s desk late Thursday morning. She tried to sound casual and friendly, which was the exact opposite of how she felt.
“I’m very sorry for your loss.” Goodwin voiced the sentiment, but his words would have meant more if he hadn’t been rifling through the file folder on his desk when he said them.
Sister Lou glanced at Shari seated on the guest chair beside her. The reporter was gazing around Goodwin’s office. Sister Lou also took stock of the items on display. The room was overburdened with material things. The furniture was worn and battered, including the lumpy chair on which Sister Lou sat.
Photos of Goodwin with prominent members of the Buffalo diocese dotted the stained office walls closing in around them. And more than a hint of a medicinal odor clung to the air. How the mighty had indeed fallen.
Sister Lou would have been more empathetic to the theologian’s plight if he’d been kinder to Maurice while he’d been alive. But his public displays of conflict toward her friend weren’t worthy of him or his previous organization. No wonder Goodwin’s former bosses had requested he leave.
“I was surprised to see you at Maurice’s wake Tuesday.” Sister Lou shifted her attention from her surroundings to her host. If Maurice had known Goodwin Barrow would attend his wake, he would have laughed himself hoarse.
“I’d like to think that Maurice and I shared a mutual respect even though we disagreed.” Goodwin made the understatement of the century with a straight face. He set aside the manila folder and settled back onto his seat. “I believe that Maurice would have attended my wake, if the situation had been reversed.”
Sister Lou felt a tug on her patience. “If you and Maurice had mutual respect, why did the protests you staged during his public appearances so often turn violent?”
“Sometimes the people in my group get a little rambunctious, but I wouldn’t call their actions violent.” Goodwin awkwardly shrugged his shoulders.
“I would.” Sister Lou’s gaze dropped to Goodwin’s hands, which lay flat on his desk in front of him. They were swollen and appeared painfully puffy. She frowned, remembering Goodwin’s uncomfortable movements during the wake.
Shari crossed her right leg over her left, smoothing her metal-gray skirt over her knee. “Where were you the night of August thirtieth?”
“Did you come to my office to accuse me of killing Maurice?” Goodwin gave Shari and Sister Lou a hostile look. “You ladies have balls.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Shari’s tone was guileless.
Sister Lou struggled to remain serious despite Shari’s sarcastic wit. She lifted her gaze from Goodwin’s hands. “Is there anyone in your group who’s been especially critical of Maurice or his research?”
Goodwin shook his head. “Let’s get this straight. Maurice and I had our disagreements, but neither of us would hurt the other.”
“And yet Doctor Jordan was murdered.” Shari’s right foot tapped a brisk, but silent, rhythm against the air.
Goodwin’s expression hardened further. “Word on the Ethernet is that the Briar Coast County Sheriff’s Office is looking at members of your congregation for Maurice’s murder.”
Sister Lou winced. Before she could speak, Shari responded for her. “Your intel is out of date, pal. The deputies cleared the congregation.”
Goodwin gave Shari a dismissive look, then returned his attention to Sister Lou. “Maurice may not have liked me. We may have disagreed on theological perspectives, but none of that means I killed him.”
“You’re gonna have to do better than that, buddy.” Shari spoke the words Sister Lou had been thinking.
“You haven’t answered my question.” Sister Lou didn’t look away from Goodwin’s steely stare. “Are you aware of anyone who has been particularly critical of Maurice in any way?”
“The usual question is who stands to gain from the victim’s death.” Goodwin sighed deeply. “Have you asked yourself that?”
Shari jerked her chin toward The Catholic Corner editor. “Why don’t you take that quiz for us, Godwin?”
Goodwin’s green eyes flashed his irritation. “Goodwin.”
“Sorry.” Shari’s grin was unrepentant
.
Goodwin again turned away from the reporter and addressed Sister Lou. “Have you considered how much Justin Carr’s fortunes would improve with Maurice out of the picture?”
“Justin Carr?” Sister Lou’s brow furrowed. “Maurice’s colleague at Buffalo East Christian University?”
“That’s right.” Goodwin’s expression eased. “Carr’s an impressive theologian in his own right, but compared to Maurice, he’s a schoolboy. Although, most of us stood in Maurice’s shadow.”
“Did standing in Maurice’s shadow piss you off, friend?” Shari tilted her head.
“You’re pissing me off,” Goodwin snapped. His hands remained flat against the desk.
Shari spread her hands. “It’s a gift.”
Sister Lou interrupted their exchange. “With Maurice gone, Doctor Carr’s no longer in his shadow.”
Goodwin took a deep breath, smoothing his thick gray hair with a slow awkward motion. “His professional opportunities have increased significantly. Publishing. The DVDs with Appleby.”
He wasn’t the first person to make the argument that Justin Carr’s professional opportunities had improved with Maurice’s death. The contention was offensive, but it did have validity.
“The same theory applies to you, Goodwin.” Shari stopped tapping her foot. “Isn’t Maurice the reason New England Theologian magazine fired you? Now his shadow’s gone.”
Sister Lou waited and watched for Goodwin’s reply.
His face hardened again. “I wasn’t fired.”
“No?” Shari arched a winged eyebrow. “What’s your version of events?”
Goodwin curled his fingers into his desktop. “The publishers and I had a difference of opinion regarding the direction of the publication, and I chose to leave.”
Sister Lou had seen and heard enough. She stood. “Thank you again for speaking with us.”
Shari gave her a startled look. She rose more slowly. “We’re leaving?”
Sister Lou smiled at their host. “We’ve taken enough of Goodwin’s time.”
They shared a pensive but comfortable silence on the way out of the offices of The Catholic Corner. The streets of downtown Briar Coast were all but deserted. It wasn’t yet lunchtime. Most people were either in school or at work.
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