Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  “And I’m not walking away.” Her voice broke on her words. She blinked as though fighting back tears. They trailed down her rounded cheeks anyway.

  Chris had anticipated her obstinacy. He hadn’t expected such sorrow. It wrecked him. He wished he could go back in time and change something . . . anything . . . to spare her from this pain. But he couldn’t.

  Chris rose to his feet, then knelt beside her chair. He held her small, soft hands between his. “I’m so sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

  She squeezed his hands. “You’re doing it by helping me to find closure.”

  Closure? He thought he was keeping her safe. Oh, well. “Who’s left on our suspect list?”

  “Kevin Appleby, of course. And Jessica asked us to speak with Emmett again. It’s gotten a lot shorter since Shari was able to confirm that the few people on the list Jess gave us haven’t contacted Mo in years. I’d also like to speak with Alvin Lyle.”

  “The manager of the Sleep Ease Inn Hotel? Why?”

  “He may know the employees who claimed Jess was at the hotel the night Mo was murdered.”

  “Good thinking.” Chris rose from the hardwood floor. “I’ll pick you up in the morning.”

  “We should get Shari, too.” Sister Lou looked up at him. “I’m sure she’ll be anxious to join us, especially since she missed both of our interviews today.”

  He experienced a strange combination of dread and anticipation. “Maybe you can help her keep her temper in check.”

  “And you can help her control the crush she has on you.” Sister Lou smiled as she pushed herself from her chair.

  Chris could only stare at his aunt. He was thirty-three years old. He knew when a woman was interested in him, and he couldn’t deny his fascination for the sharp-tongued reporter. He just hadn’t realized their mutual attraction had been so obvious.

  Sister Lou raised a warm hand to Chris’s shoulder. “Shari won’t be able to find herself while she’s staring at you, and she needs to find herself before she gets involved in a serious relationship.”

  “If you’ve noticed the way she looks at me, then you know I’m the one you should be worried about.” Chris kissed her cheek, then turned to leave. “I’ll see you in the morning, Aunt Lou.”

  He walked down the hallway and waited for the elevator that would carry him to the lobby. His aunt was right. Beneath Shari’s veneer of tough confidence, she had a layer of insecurity. It wouldn’t be easy, but he’d have to find a way to keep from responding to her challenges and taunts.

  The elevator arrived and he stepped in, pressing the button for the ground floor. Starting tomorrow, he’d have to pay closer attention to the line between friendship and romance. Patience was the key. He’d need enough for both of them, since he was fairly certain patience wasn’t a concept Shari was familiar with.

  * * *

  The phone rang the next morning as Sister Lou was leaving her apartment. She closed her door and retraced her steps. She checked her telephone’s identification screen, hoping the caller was Shari, returning the messages she’d left for her this morning.

  It wasn’t.

  The motherhouse’s main number appeared on the screen, which meant the call had been transferred from the receptionist’s desk. Not exactly helpful. Her red wristwatch indicated it was about ten minutes before nine o’clock Saturday morning. Sister Lou was on her way to Shari’s apartment. She hoped the reporter would join her and Chris when they spoke with Emmett later at Fit Up: A Health Space. Perhaps the receptionist had transferred Shari’s call.

  She lifted the receiver, cutting off the simple ringtone. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Sister Lou, I’m glad I caught you.” The voice was familiar, but it wasn’t Shari’s. It belonged to Wanda McClane, Maurice’s fan.

  His stalker?

  “I’m in a bit of a rush, Wanda. How can I help you?”

  “I won’t keep you, Sister Lou. I’m calling for an update on the investigation.”

  She hadn’t expected Wanda’s request. “Shouldn’t you speak with the sheriff’s deputies in charge of the investigation?”

  “The deputies went to the motherhouse yesterday.” Wanda made the statement as though she thought it wouldn’t surprise Sister Lou that she knew who was visiting the motherhouse.

  She was wrong. “How did you know that?”

  “What did the deputies tell you? Do they have any new information?”

  Sister Lou massaged her forehead with her index and middle fingers. She took a deep, calming breath, drawing in the scent of apples and cinnamon from the bowl of potpourri beside her telephone. “Wanda, are you monitoring the motherhouse?”

  “I happened to be driving by.”

  Sister Lou didn’t believe that for a second. “Why don’t you ask the deputies your questions?”

  Sister Lou heard a faint tapping as though Wanda was drumming her fingers against a heavy wooden table.

  “The deputies aren’t asking the right people the right questions.” Wanda sounded irritated. “I know this. If you haven’t realized it yet, then you’re not asking the right people the right questions, either.”

  OK, my curiosity is piqued. “What questions should I ask, and of whom should I ask them?”

  “If I were you, I’d start by asking Goodwin Barrow if he’s been offered his old job back.”

  Sister Lou wasn’t impressed. She didn’t consider Goodwin to be a viable suspect. Not only was he physically incapable of the murder, he didn’t benefit from Maurice’s death. “All right. Thank you. Is there anything else?”

  Silence trickled down the line as Wanda hesitated. “Then I’d ask Kevin Appleby whether Maurice had signed the second contract before he died.”

  Sister Lou stiffened. “That’s a very good question.” But not for the reason Wanda believed.

  How does she know about the second contract?

  * * *

  Shari opened the door to Sister Lou Saturday morning.

  Sister Lou gave her a relieved smile. “I was beginning to worry. I didn’t hear from you, and you didn’t return my calls.”

  Shari frowned as she stepped back to let her guest inside. She’d never before been accused of causing someone to worry. How should she respond?

  “I’m sorry.” Her voice lifted as though asking a question. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d given the right answer.

  Sister Lou paused to hug her before walking farther into the apartment. “There’s no need to be sorry. I’m glad you’re all right.” She took a closer look at Shari. Her forehead creased in concern. “You are all right, aren’t you?”

  “Not really.” Shari curled up at one end of the second-hand green-and-black plaid-fabric sofa and waited while Sister Lou sat at the other. “The deputies complained to my editor yesterday about our investigation. They said we were interfering with law enforcement.”

  Sister Lou’s eyes widened. “Oh, Shari, I’m so sorry.”

  “We knew that could happen.” Shari shrugged. “The problem is, my boss had already told me not to cover Doctor Jordan’s murder. He was pretty ticked when the deputies told him I was doing it anyway. He threatened to fire me if I don’t back off.”

  Sister Lou pressed a hand to her chest. “What do you want to do?”

  “I can handle losing my job.” Shari gave a humorless laugh. “I want to continue our investigation, but if the story’s published, I’m afraid a colleague will lose his job.”

  “It’s a much more difficult decision when someone else’s welfare’s involved.”

  “Exactly.” Shari unfolded herself from the sofa to pace the cramped confines of the Spartan room. The threadbare puke-green carpet was thin and rough beneath her bare feet.

  A restless night had driven her out of bed. It was now after nine o’clock. She’d already completed an hour-long run around her neighborhood, showered, changed into emerald sweatpants with a ruby-red oversized T-shirt, ate breakfast, finished two loads of laundry, and cleaned her bath
room.

  Three strides carried Shari from the sofa to the dull eggshell wall between the kitchenette and her living room. The wall had a built-in bookcase on which she’d arranged her prized collection of keeper books. These were the well-worn favorites that she packed and carried with her every time she moved. She moved a lot.

  “I don’t want to just investigate this murder. I want to report it.” Shari spoke with her back to Sister Lou.

  “I want that for you.” Sister Lou’s quiet words meant the world to her.

  “But I can’t risk that my colleague will lose his job.” Shari turned. The intensity in Sister Lou’s onyx eyes kept her rooted in place.

  “If being a reporter is your dream, then I have faith that you’ll find a way to make it work.”

  “I’ve wanted to be an investigative reporter since I was twelve years old, but now I’m beginning to wonder whether I’m cut out for the newspaper business.”

  “Why are you doubting yourself?” When Sister Lou asked a question, she was genuinely interested in the answer.

  “There are too many rules. My editor can prevent me from covering a story without any reason.” Shari planted her hands on her hips. “I don’t want to report just the safe events. I want to cover news like Doctor Jordan’s murder, things that matter to the community.”

  “Shari, I believe the fact that you don’t blindly follow rules makes you exactly the right type of person for the news business.” Sister Lou leaned forward as though to emphasize her message. “You follow your instincts, and that’s what the community needs.”

  “Unfortunately, not everyone agrees with you.” Shari wrapped her arms around her waist.

  Sister Lou shifted a bit on the sofa again. Shari would have suggested her guest move to the lopsided army-green recliner in the opposite corner of the little living room, or one of the lumpy yellow kitchen chairs, but the alternatives weren’t any better. The furniture had come with the apartment, and it appeared the landlord had purchased the pieces for cost not comfort.

  Sister Lou stood and approached Shari. “The deputies asked me to stop investigating Mo’s murder as well.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I respectfully declined. But my situation is different. We each have to make the best decision for ourselves. I can’t tell you what to do, but I believe your charism is to expose the truth.”

  “My charism? What’s that?”

  “It’s your calling, your way of serving God.”

  Shari straightened from the wall, inexplicably uncomfortable. “Sister Lou, you know I’m not a religious person. I don’t believe in that stuff.”

  Sister Lou gave her a warm, teasing smile. “That’s all right, Shari. You may not believe in God, but He believes in you.” Her smile faded. She searched Shari’s eyes. “Whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

  Shari swallowed the sudden lump in her throat. “Thank you.” Her voice was distressingly husky.

  Sister Lou squeezed Shari’s shoulder before turning toward the door. “In the meantime, Chris and I will continue the investigation. Call me or stop by anytime, and I’ll give you updates.”

  Chris.

  If I back out of the project, will I ever see him again?

  Was she kidding? This was Briar Coast, population less than one thousand. She’d probably see him every day.

  “He’s really been amazing on this case, hasn’t he?” Maybe her words were too eager. She sounded like a boy-crazed adolescent.

  Embarrassing.

  Sister Lou hesitated, then turned to Shari. “Chris is an amazing person. I’m so proud of him. But Shari, before you can be comfortable with anyone else, first you must be comfortable with yourself. I don’t think you are yet.”

  “I . . . don’t know what you mean.” Shari struggled not to stutter.

  Sister Lou smiled as though she recognized the lie but wouldn’t call her on it. “I don’t want you to be hurt—or Chris, either.” She paused. “I’d better leave. Chris and I told Jessica we’d speak with Emmett one last time.”

  Shari arched her eyebrows. “Good luck with that.”

  “Good luck to you as well. Let me know what you decide.”

  “Of course.” Shari closed the door behind Sister Lou.

  She looked forward to making that decision as well.

  Chapter 22

  “Shari’s instincts are right. Her editor is the one who doesn’t belong in the newspaper business.” Chris stepped out of his bronze sedan, which he’d parked in the lot of Fit Up: A Health Space, Emmett’s place of employment.

  He shouldn’t be disappointed that the testy reporter wouldn’t be joining them this morning, the second Saturday in September, but he was. With an effort, he shrugged off the feeling. He was supposed to be focusing on helping his aunt find her friend’s killer.

  He circled his five-year-old sedan and helped Sister Lou from its passenger seat. It had taken some doing, but he’d convinced her to let him drive. A major victory.

  He crossed the parking lot with her. “Based on what you told me happened the last time you spoke with Emmett, I’m surprised Jessica asked you to speak with him again.”

  The glass structure that served the exercise facility was impressive. Its sophisticated style contrasted nicely with the warm landscaping that outlined the grounds.

  “So am I.” Sister Lou’s lips tightened as though she was remembering her last encounter with Jessica and Emmett. “But you heard her. She doesn’t think she’d know whether he was lying.”

  Chris switched his attention from the grounds to his aunt. “Do you think Emmett is only with her for Maurice’s money?”

  “I think it’s possible.” Sister Lou sounded distracted. “I also think it’s time she asked herself that question.”

  Chris took in her thoughtful expression. “What’s on your mind, Aunt Lou?”

  “It’s been almost two weeks since Mo’s murder. The deputies still don’t have any viable leads.”

  Chris’s heart hurt for his aunt. He could only imagine the pain she felt, not knowing who killed her friend and, just as important, why. He rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Aunt Lou, we’ll find Maurice’s killer. I’m sure of that.”

  “I just never thought it would take this long.”

  “Have faith, Aunt Lou.” Chris searched his mind for something appropriate to say. “You’re not in this alone.”

  Finally, she found a smile for him.

  “Jess didn’t tell me that Emmett wasn’t always honest with her until after the deputies brought her in for questioning.”

  “She probably didn’t want to implicate her lover without proof.” Chris escorted Sister Lou up the concrete steps to the exercise facility’s entrance. At the top, he held the door open, then followed his aunt into the building.

  He cast his gaze over the reception area. It was spacious and modern. The glass exterior walls filled the room with natural light. Four large, flat-screen television sets hung suspended from the ceiling. Each was tuned to ESPN’s SportsCenter. Chris had to force himself not to get distracted by the day’s headlines.

  “Kevin cast suspicion on Justin, Mo’s colleague. Now Jess has asked us to take another look at Emmett.” Sister Lou’s words refocused Chris on the investigation rather than the ESPN program.

  Chris voiced his aunt’s unspoken question. “Are Kevin and Jessica misdirecting us?”

  “I don’t believe that they’re the only ones who’ve not been forthcoming. We’re going to have to reconsider all of the information people have given us.”

  Chris rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sure we’ll be able to salvage something from our notes.”

  “We also have to identify the murder weapon.” Sister Lou stopped to face Chris. “What was it? Where did it come from? Where is it now? This was a crime of opportunity. The perpetrator didn’t plan to kill Mo. He must have used something that belonged to Mo or something he found in Mo’s hotel room.”

  “Our pal Alvin Ly
le won’t be too thrilled to see us again.”

  Sister Lou raised an arched eyebrow. Reluctant humor flashed in her wide dark eyes. “No one we’ve spoken with has been thrilled to see us. Besides, I’m not looking forward to seeing him again, either.”

  “Then that makes us even.” Chris followed his aunt to the information counter in the center of the room.

  Sister Lou recognized the beautiful, young, fit couple behind Fit Up: A Health Space’s information counter. Judging by the sulky expression of the wrathful, Disney-fairy lookalike, Sister Lou was remembered as well.

  She countered the young woman’s sour demeanor with a cheerful smile and did her best Shari Henson impersonation. “Please tell Emmett Wagner that Jessica Jordan sent us.”

  The model-thin young woman gave Chris a second look and a warm smile, then turned to Sister Lou with a resentful sigh.

  “Hold on.” She stabbed a number into the desk phone. “One of those women is back again. She brought a friend.” After a pause, she cradled the phone and settled her gaze on Chris. “Emmett’s on his way.”

  “Thank you.” Sister Lou raised her voice, hoping to break whatever spell the grumpy fairy was trying to cast over her nephew. She took Chris’s arm to lead him away from the information counter and toward the novelty shop.

  “What made you think to use Jessica’s name to get Wagner to agree to come down?” Chris sounded impressed by the bait.

  “Not what, who.” Sister Lou released Chris’s arm and faced him. “Shari used Jessica’s name to convince Emmett to see us the last time we were here. That young woman is a quick thinker.”

  While they waited for Emmett, Sister Lou and Chris got each other caught up on the previous week, and events at the congregation and college. They discussed Chris’s fund-raising ideas for a few of the college’s upcoming initiatives. Sister Lou gave Chris an update on her Briar Coast Community Outreach Project. As they talked, Sister Lou considered some of the workout outfits displayed in the novelty shop’s windows. The styles were pretty and the patterns were vibrant, but to label the costs prohibitive was putting it mildly.

  “Is that him?” Chris asked.