Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

Justin’s confusion cleared. His big, brown eyes landed on Sister Lou. “Ah, you’re Sister Lou. Maurice spoke of you often.”

  Sister Lou returned his smile as she studied his handsome, youthful features. She adjusted her pale gray skirt as she settled onto the blue-cushioned visitors’ chair. “I’m sorry we didn’t get a chance to talk during Maurice’s wake.”

  “We were colleagues for almost five years.” Justin reclaimed his seat. “His death is a great loss, personally and professionally.”

  Sister Lou heard the note of sadness in Justin’s voice. It sounded sincere. Her gaze took in the condition of the theology professor’s third-floor office. It was meticulous. His desk was well organized without a single loose sheet of paper on its surface. Manila folders were filed neatly in a wire-frame stand beside his computer. A handful of brown interoffice envelopes lay in his inbox, probably not for long.

  The computer file open on his flat-screen monitor stirred her curiosity. What was he working on?

  “I understand competition in academia is pretty fierce.” Seated beside Sister Lou, Shari seemed to take Justin’s measure. “Are you competitive, Doctor Carr?”

  Justin switched his attention to Shari. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

  “Shari Henson. I’m with The Briar Coast Telegraph.”

  Justin’s eyebrows knitted. “Are you doing a story on Maurice’s murder?”

  “No, this is just background information.” Shari waved a negligent hand.

  “I see.” Justin’s expression said he didn’t see at all.

  “I used to teach at the college level.” Sister Lou drew her attention from the almost empty black coffee pot standing on top of the black mini refrigerator behind Justin’s desk. “Often, there is competition to be published.”

  Justin gave a slight smile. “Sometimes competition is bad. It fosters ill will between colleagues. I think competition is necessary. It helps to encourage research.”

  “Were you in competition with Maurice?” Shari asked.

  Justin’s expression clouded again. He looked from Shari to Sister Lou, then back to the reporter. “Why are you here again?”

  Sister Lou glanced at Shari before answering. “Doctor Carr—”

  Justin lifted his hand, palm out, to stall her. “Please call me Justin.”

  Sister Lou smiled. “Justin, we want to ask you about Maurice.”

  Maurice’s former colleague looked confused but not angry. In fact, by this point, Kevin Appleby, Emmett Wagner, and Goodwin Barrow had all become irate, and thrown her and Shari out of their offices.

  Sister Lou noticed the long twelve-month calendar hanging on the wall behind Justin’s desk. He’d highlighted dates in a rainbow of colors. Green appeared to be academic holidays. Blue were perhaps the midterm and final test dates. Red seemed to indicate the dates grades were due. It was very meticulous.

  “How would you describe your relationship with Maurice?” Shari asked.

  Justin took his time answering the reporter’s question. “I liked and admired Maurice. He was my mentor. I learned a lot from him. I also considered him to be a friend.”

  Shari tilted her head to the right. “But now that he’s gone, you’re the university’s star theologian.”

  The blood drained from Justin’s round cheeks. His jaw dropped before he caught himself. “Do you think I killed Maurice?”

  Shari didn’t back down. “Were you jealous of him?”

  The theology professor stood and rounded his desk. “I was not jealous of Maurice.” He crossed his office to close the door, then returned to his desk. “Why would I be jealous of him? Maurice was my friend and mentor. He gave me career advice. And I helped him, as well.”

  “How did you help him?” Sister Lou held Justin’s gaze as he reclaimed his seat.

  Justin studied Sister Lou for a moment. “Maurice trusted Kevin Appleby. God only knows why. He was just going to sign Appleby’s contract for their Spreading the Word Productions project. He wasn’t even going to have a lawyer review it first. I told him he was nuts.”

  That sounded like Maurice. Mo, you were always too trusting. That trait got you into trouble even before your marriage to Jessica.

  “Did Maurice listen to you?” Shari’s question pulled Sister Lou out of the past.

  “Yes, thank God.” Justin scowled as though the mere thought of Maurice’s close call with the contract upset him. “My sister’s a contract lawyer. A really good one. Maurice hired her. She went through the contract with a fine-tooth comb.”

  Sister Lou was almost afraid to ask what her friend had gotten himself into. “What did she find?”

  “A lot.” The sound of Justin’s voice and the look in his eyes were grim. “Among other things, the contract was worded to give Spreading the Word Productions, not Maurice, final ownership of his work. If he left the partnership, he’d have to buy out Appleby to get his work back.”

  “Ridiculous.” Shari’s eyes stretched wide.

  “That’s outrageous.” Sister Lou felt sick to her stomach.

  “That’s only the beginning.” Justin sat back on his thick black executive chair. His wide lips twisted in disgust. “The profit calculation favored Appleby, but the distribution of responsibilities put the burden on Maurice.”

  Sister Lou’s temper was stirring. Kevin had a lot to answer for. “Did Maurice tell you what he was going to do about the contract?”

  “My sister and I both advised him against signing it.” Justin pulled his blunt fingers through his thick curls. “I told him, for God’s sake, if Appleby didn’t change the terms of the contract, walk away from it.”

  Shari shifted on her seat. Her movements seemed impatient. “But now that Maurice is out of the picture, are you interested in taking his place?”

  Justin’s eyebrows jumped to his hairline. “Have you been listening to me? Appleby’s a crook. Why would I even consider a partnership with him?”

  Shari shrugged. “To increase your name recognition.”

  “There are far more equitable ways of building my name.” Justin’s chuckle was dry and lacking in humor. “Why are you interrogating me anyway? Isn’t law enforcement working on Maurice’s case?”

  “Yes, but we also had a few questions of our own.” Sister Lou pressed herself to her feet, indicating that their impromptu meeting was over. “Thank you for your time, Doctor . . . Justin.” Sister Lou returned his smile. “If you can think of anything that could help us identify the person who killed our friend, please let us know.”

  Justin stood. “Please do the same. Maurice was a good friend to me. I owe him a lot that I will never be able to repay now. Helping to find his killer would be a small way for me to repay his kindness.”

  Sister Lou and Shari returned to Shari’s compact sedan in contemplative silence. The entire meeting had taken about fifteen minutes, leaving plenty of time for Justin to meet his first class.

  Shari settled in behind the steering wheel. “He sure gave a convincing performance.”

  “Justin didn’t kill Maurice.” Sister Lou buckled her seatbelt.

  “It doesn’t sound that way. But what makes you so sure?”

  Sister Lou stared across the parking lot. She tuned out the brilliant sunlight, the groups of students crossing campus, and the groundskeepers tending the landscaping. Instead, she sifted through the words and images from the meeting they’d just left, searching for the truth.

  “Maurice’s murderer hadn’t planned to kill him that night.” Had it really been more than a week ago, nine days, to be exact? “It was an impetuous act. Justin is very meticulous. He would have planned Maurice’s murder and not left anything to chance.”

  Sister Lou thought back to the professor’s color-coded calendar, nearly empty inbox, and detailed filing system.

  “We also lost our motive for him since he insists he’d never go into business with Kevin Appleby.” Shari put her car in gear, then navigated through the parking lot, past students, staff, and faculty on her
way back to the street. “I’m beginning to feel like a spinning top with each interview pointing our investigation in a new direction.”

  “It’s more like a ping-pong match with each interview sending us back to a previous direction.”

  At the parking lot’s exit, Shari stopped at the red light. She activated her right-turn signal. “What’re you talking about?”

  “Most of our interviewees—Goodwin Barrow, Wanda McClane, Justin Carr, even Jessica and Emmett—have pointed us back toward Kevin.” Sister Lou gave Shari a moment to think that over.

  “You’re right. Jessica said Appleby owed Maurice more money. Justin said Appleby was a crook, and Barrow said he was exploiting Maurice’s work.”

  “And Wanda was afraid that Kevin would sensationalize Maurice’s research. We need to speak with Kevin again.”

  “The documentary producer has a lot to answer for.” The traffic light turned green. Shari guided her car onto the street and pointed it back toward Briar Coast.

  Chapter 19

  Shari had been back at her desk barely an hour when Perry cast a shadow over it.

  “My office. Now.” He turned and marched back toward his office.

  Shari scowled at the managing editor’s back. Who did he think he was? And who did he think she was? She soared down the hallway on a full head of steam. Her army-green stilettos were silent on the thin gray carpeting.

  Perry held open his office door. “Sit.”

  Sit!?! Oh, no.

  Shari pushed her fists deep into the pockets of her army-green, tapered slacks to keep from snatching Perry by the scruff of his neck and shaking him like a rat. She inhaled a deep, soothing breath and caught the stench of burnt coffee, evidence of Perry’s breakfast of doughnuts and coffee.

  She studied the room: cluttered desk, half-empty dark wood bookcase, matching mini conversation table. Based on his office, what would Sister Lou and her crazy powers of observation have to say about the newspaper’s managing editor? She was tempted to invite Sister Lou to The Briar Coast Telegraph’s offices to ask her.

  Shari took a position behind one of Perry’s two blue-gray visitors’ chairs and turned to confront him. “What’s the problem?”

  Perry closed his door and strode to the black, padded executive chair behind his desk. “Have you been talking to people about Maurice Jordan’s murder?”

  She couldn’t lie. Not for the first time, she wished that she could, but she really couldn’t. She could, however, prevaricate, and that was the next best thing.

  “You told me not to.” Now, turn the table by going on the attack. “Why?”

  “One of the sheriff’s deputies investigating Jordan’s murder called this morning, complaining about you and some nun.” Perry took his seat, then pinned her with a warning glare.

  Shari had grown up in the state of Illinois foster system. She wasn’t intimidated.

  “She’s not a nun. She’s a sister.”

  Perry’s glare wavered under Shari’s hostility. He must not have expected her to challenge him. “Kevin Appleby called the sheriff’s office. He accused you and the nun of harassing him.”

  Shari’s startled laughter was genuine. “I wouldn’t call what we were doing ‘harassment’—unless he feels guilty and wants law enforcement to help get him some breathing room.”

  “What would you call it?” Perry’s heated glare had cooled.

  “Expressing our condolences.” Shari was sticking to her story.

  Perry stared at Shari in silence for several moments. He didn’t impress her with this flimsy intimidation tactic any more than he had with the previous one. “I told you not to cover Jordan’s death. You wouldn’t listen. Now, because you think you know this town better than me, you’ve created enemies for us in the sheriff’s office.”

  “How could I be interfering with the deputies’ job when they aren’t doing it?”

  Perry’s eyes flared with surprise, then narrowed with anger. His features darkened with temper. “I’m giving you one last warning. Your final one. Don’t investigate Jordan’s death. You disobey my orders again, and you’ll be out on your ass. You understand?”

  Shari unclenched her teeth. “Perfectly.” She turned on her four-inch heels and marched out of Perry’s office.

  She understood, but that didn’t mean she agreed.

  Give up the most thrilling story of her life, or find herself out of a job. Was there a door number three?

  * * *

  Sister Lou stepped into the lobby of the congregational offices late Friday morning. The receptionist had called minutes before to tell her she had visitors: Briar Coast County sheriff’s deputies. Sister Lou was both anxious and irritated. She doubted Fran Cole and Ted Tate had stopped by to update her on their investigation into Maurice’s murder. The chances were greater that they were here to put a stop to hers.

  “Thank you, Sister Jane.” She exchanged a smile with the older sister behind the receptionist’s desk before turning to her guests. “Good morning, deputies. What brings you to our offices?”

  Fran and Ted looked official in their brown lightweight jackets, tan shirts, black ties, and spruce-green gabardine pants. They’d taken off their brown, felt campaign hats. Fran held hers in her hand. Ted had tucked his under his arm.

  Fran exchanged a look with Ted. “Can we speak with you privately, Sister?”

  That couldn’t be good.

  “Certainly.” Sister Lou swallowed a resigned sigh as she led the way back down the wide hallway to her office.

  Their footsteps were silent on the thick, warm rose carpeting. The pale gold walls made the fluorescent lighting appear even brighter. Sister Lou guided her unexpected guests past conference rooms, administrative assistants’ desks, offices, and a break room. Most of the doors were open. Murmurs of conversation floated from those rooms and workstations, and followed them down the hall.

  Sister Lou stopped at her office door to let the deputies precede her inside. She gestured toward the well-cushioned powder-blue and honey-wood guest chairs in front of her desk. “What is this about, deputies?”

  “Stop meddling in our investigation.” Ted didn’t disappoint with his blunt response and rude nature. Scowling, he dropped onto the guest chair on Sister Lou’s right.

  You’re investigating a murder? When?

  “What makes you think I’m interfering in your investigation, Deputy Tate?” Sister Lou took her chair behind her desk. She gave Ted a curious look.

  Ted’s gray eyes sparked with irritation. “We got a call from Kevin Appleby. He said you and the news reporter from the Telegraph have been harassing him.”

  Kevin had complained about her to the sheriff’s office? That was awkward. It also made it more difficult to question Maurice’s partner again. She’d have to find a new strategy to get the information she needed.

  “Did you question Kevin about Maurice’s murder?” Sister Lou directed the question to Fran, who was seated beside Ted.

  “Yes, we did. Doctor Jordan died before their partnership was finalized.” Fran crossed her legs and arms.

  Sister Lou considered that information from Kevin’s perspective. “And if their partnership wasn’t finalized, then Kevin wouldn’t have a motive for murder.”

  Fran nodded. “That’s true.”

  Sister Lou leaned back in her chair. “I believe Kevin and Maurice argued about the contract.”

  Ted was still scowling. “What makes you think that?”

  Well, while you were investigating my congregation, Shari and I were investigating people with actual connections to Mo.

  Sister Lou turned to Ted. “Shari Henson and I spoke with several of Maurice’s associates.”

  Ted arched an eyebrow. His irritation had been replaced by surprise. “Who are these associates?”

  Sister Lou spread her hands. “I’ll make a list.”

  Ted narrowed his eyes at her. Perhaps her response was more sarcastic than she’d intended.

  “We’d appreciate tha
t.” Fran braced her hands on her lap and pushed herself up from her chair. “We have a new lead in the case.”

  Sister Lou was startled. “Who is it?”

  Ted stood. “This is an ongoing investigation, Sister. We aren’t at liberty to discuss the case, but we’d appreciate that list of associates you spoke with.”

  “You’ll have to trust us, Sister.” Fran paused on her way to the door. “We’ll find the person who killed your friend. But stop interfering with our case.”

  Ted held the door open for Fran. Sister Lou watched the deputies disappeared beyond her door. She wasn’t inclined to put all of her faith in their crime-fighting abilities. For one thing, there hadn’t been a murder in Briar Coast for more than eight years. To the best of her knowledge, that was the only experience with a homicide investigation either deputy had had, and the killer in that case had confessed before the investigation had even started. For another, Fran and Ted appeared to be more interested in chastising her for her interference than in the information she’d collected from Maurice’s associates.

  Still, how could she find out about this new lead?

  Chapter 20

  “Thanks again for coming with me this afternoon.” Sister Lou allowed Chris to help her step out of his bronze compact sedan and onto the Spreading the Word Productions parking lot.

  It was late Friday afternoon. The slight warm breeze helped blow away the tendrils of stress left over from her tense exchange with the deputies earlier this morning.

  “It’s not a problem.” Chris closed the passenger door. “I want to help with your investigation.”

  “Thank you, Sweetie.” She rubbed the sleeve of his smoke-gray shirt as she walked beside him to the building’s front entrance. Chris had coupled his shirt with gunmetal-gray slacks. He’d loosened his tie and left his jacket in the car.

  “I’m not convinced that this is a good idea. Kevin’s already complained to the sheriff’s office about you. It’s probably unwise to keep harassing him.”

  “I’m not harassing him.” Sister Lou’s temper stirred again at the thought of Kevin grumbling about her to the deputies. “Instead of going to the deputies to complain about me, why didn’t he ask them for updates on finding Maurice’s killer? Maurice was supposed to be his business partner.”