Mayhem & Mass

by Olivia Matthews

  “Oh, it was really easy, right?” Wanda’s spirits perked up. “I found the instructions on the Internet.”

  After lunch, Sister Lou was going to change all of her passwords. She’d encourage Chris and her friends to take that precaution as well. “Why did you hack into the Spreading the Word Productions’ iCloud account?”

  Embarrassed color flooded Wanda’s pale round cheeks and clashed with her red hair. “The Internet was buzzing with rumors about Dr. J’s latest research topic, right? Well, after he was killed, I thought, are we ever going to know what it was? So I hacked into their account, thinking they might have his notes or something.”

  Chris’s bowl of soup stood forgotten in front of him. “Why didn’t you break into Maurice’s account if you wanted to find his research?”

  “Doctor J doesn’t have an online account.” Wanda shrugged. “Everyone knows he saves his work onto a jump drive.”

  Something didn’t sound right to Sister Lou. “After he was killed, you went looking for his research paper and found the second contract?”

  Wanda nodded. “Yes, there were two PDFs, right? One was labeled CONTRACT ONE. The other was CONTRACT TWO. I wanted to know what the difference was.”

  “So you read them?” Chris’s voice was swollen with disbelief.

  Wanda shrugged. “Right.”

  Sister Lou dropped her sandwich. “What were the differences?”

  “There were a lot.” Wanda paused as she appeared to search her memory. “The biggest difference was that the second contract made Doctor J an equal partner in Spreading the Word Productions, but not an equal partner of Appleby Productions.”

  Had Mo signed the second contract before he was murdered? If so, he’d been an equal partner. If not, Kevin owned any research Mo had shared with him. Unless Mo hadn’t signed either contract.

  “Did you find his research paper?” Sister Lou held her breath while she waited for Wanda’s response.

  Wanda blushed again. “Yes, and it was really good. It’s on Mary Magdalene’s role as the Apostle of the Apostles and the First Preacher of the Resurrection.”

  Before his death, Maurice had told her that his paper was in draft form, and that he hadn’t shared it with anyone else. How, then, had his paper ended up on Spreading the Word Productions’ iCloud account after his death?

  Chapter 24

  “Aunt Lou, calm down.” Chris lowered himself onto the chair beside Sister Lou rather than the one behind his office desk.

  Sister Lou was so agitated, Chris had suggested they discuss their investigation in his campus office rather than return to the congregational offices where they might cross paths with Sister Marianna. For that Sister Lou was grateful. She didn’t need more complications right now. Chris’s heavy mahogany door was closed, muting the bustling sounds of the advancement and alumni teams at work. Conversely, his coworkers couldn’t hear them discussing their murder investigation.

  “Why should I calm down?” Sister Lou’s muscles shook with anger. Her ears buzzed and her pulse raced. She didn’t want to be rational. She wanted to punch a wall, kick a tire, have Kevin Appleby taken into custody and ensure he never saw the light of day. Ever. Again.

  “I’m angry, too, Aunt Lou, but we need a plan. We can’t charge into Appleby’s office and demand to know how Maurice’s file got into his iCloud account.”

  “Why not?” That’s all she’d talked about as Chris had driven her to the college and escorted her to his office. She should have known he was letting her vent, hoping she’d calm down.

  And he should have known his strategy wouldn’t work.

  Chris countered her heated glare with a level stare. “Appleby will either deny having Maurice’s file, or he’ll demand that you tell him how you know the contents of his account. Either way, what will you say?”

  “I’ll tell Kevin that one of Mo’s fans told . . .” The lightbulb came on. “I see. Wanda broke the law.”

  “Right.” Chris seemed to relax. “Unless you want Wanda arrested, which is what she deserves for hacking someone’s computer, we need another way to expose the fact that Kevin has Maurice’s jump drive.”

  Sister Lou fisted her hands. “This is insane. He’s a murderer, but if I expose him, I could get a hacker arrested.”

  Sister Lou took a few breaths, trying to control her temper. Chris’s first-floor office was in a two-story cottage on the edge of the college’s main campus. She suspected it was a converted sitting room. The bay window behind his desk was slightly open, letting in the scents of the waning summer. That would explain why his office smelled like dark-roast coffee and fresh cut grass. The window framed the view of the rolling green lawns and groups of evergreens that grew behind the building.

  “We should go to the sheriff’s deputies, find out where they are in their investigation.” Chris stood and made his way to the chair behind his desk.

  Sister Lou gave her nephew a skeptical look. “I don’t have any confidence that they’ve gotten far, but we can ask if they found Mo’s jump drive among his belongings in his hotel room. If they didn’t, we’ll know the murderer has it.”

  * * *

  Shari fidgeted on her seat in the congregation’s reception area late Monday afternoon as she waited for Sister Lou. The area was spacious and full of natural light. The color scheme was a very feminine pink and gold. A variety of religious periodicals were arranged on the small wood laminate table beside her. But her gaze kept straying back to the large, wooden crucifix on the wall behind the receptionist. It was big. Very big.

  She stood and crossed to the wall on her right. Hanging from that wall was an oversized, gold-framed painting of a woman in a nun’s habit. Was this Saint Hermione of Ephesus?

  “Shari.” The joyous greeting came from behind her.

  She turned and found herself folded into a strong embrace and surrounded by the scent of vanilla. Sister Lou.

  It was empowering to know you were so welcomed in someone’s life. How different would her life have been—would she have been—if she’d known someone like Sister Lou during her formative years?

  Shari burst into laughter and returned the hug. “I guess you’re happy to see me.”

  Sister Lou stepped back and turned to escort Shari back to her office. “Of course. How are things?”

  “Interesting.” Shari’s tone was dry. “How are things with you?”

  “The same.”

  Shari’s laughter joined with Sister Lou’s. The tension she’d carried in her neck and shoulders since Friday started to ease.

  Her feet sank into the thick, warm rose carpeting as she walked with Sister Lou down one of the hallways, past conference rooms, offices, administrative desks, and a break room. The pale gold walls were soothing.

  Sister Lou opened the door of an office at the end of the hallway and gestured Shari toward one of two well-cushioned, powder-blue guest chairs. The older woman settled beside her instead of taking the chair on the other side of the oak desk.

  Sister Lou crossed her legs, folded her hands, and gave Shari a warm smile. “How’s work?”

  Shari’s sigh came from deep inside. “If Perry’s going to fire me, I might as well continue to work with you and Chris on the investigation.”

  Sister Lou’s onyx eyes darkened further with concern. “What makes you think Perry’s going to fire you?”

  “He said he would.” Shari heard how crazy that sounded, which only served to make Perry sound even crazier. “I’d rather be fired for doing something, than have him think all he has to do is threaten me to get me to act like his wind-up toy.”

  “Why is he so determined to keep this news out of the paper?”

  “Who knows? But I want to write an update on the investigation. Will you help me?”

  “Of course.” Worry drew lines across Sister Lou’s forehead. “You have a lot of courage.”

  Courage? No, but she was a survivor.

  Shari pulled her reporter’s notebook from her tote bag. “I hat
e to interrupt you in the middle of your workday, but I want to make the deadline for tomorrow’s paper.”

  “I understand. What would you like to know?”

  “Thank you.” Shari opened her notebook to a blank page and clicked her pen into position. “The last time we spoke, you were on your way to see Jessica. What did she have to tell you?”

  Sister Lou’s gaze dropped to the notebook. “The deputies took Jess in for questioning and searched her home.”

  Shari’s eyes widened. “She’s a suspect? I knew it.”

  “No, Shari, wait.” Sister Lou held out her hand. “We can’t implicate Jess, not at this time.”

  “Why not?” Shari frowned. “I can state in the article that the congregation has been cleared, and that the deputies have questioned Doctor Jordan’s widow. It’s the truth.”

  “Yes, those are truths, but even the truth has consequences.” Sister Lou leaned forward as though to add weight to her words. “If we implicate Jess in your article, that shadow will remain over her forever, despite her innocence.”

  “What about Emmett?” Shari put away her pen and notebook. This first article, at least, would be more of a personality piece on Dr. Jordan, and Sister Lou already had given her information for that.

  “Mo knew his killer. He wouldn’t have let Emmett into his hotel room.”

  “So we need to focus on people Maurice knew, and who had a compelling motive to kill him.” Shari frowned at Sister Lou. “Who’s left?”

  “Too many people.” Sister Lou brought her attention back to Shari. “Chris and I are going to the Sleep Ease Inn Hotel this evening to show them pictures of Jess. I’ll explain later. Can you join us?”

  “Of course. Thanks for inviting me.” A familiar bolt of excitement surged through Shari.

  “Great. Could you also help me gather information on Kevin Appleby?”

  “Sure.” Shari pulled her pen and notebook out again. “What are we looking for?”

  * * *

  Sister Lou struggled not to laugh that evening as she listened to Chris try to explain Alvin Lyle to Shari. The fussy hotel manager defied explanation.

  “He’s arrogant, which is probably one of the reasons he doesn’t listen to other people.” Chris stepped aside to let Sister Lou and Shari precede him into the Sleep Ease Inn Hotel. “And don’t call him Al. He doesn’t like it.”

  Sister Lou led the way across the lobby to the reservations desk. The ivory-and-orange décor pulled her mind back to the last time she’d been in the hotel. Her legs stopped moving. Her muscles were staging a full-on rebellion, insisting that she leave, but her mind needed her to move forward. Her eyes lifted as though she could see through the ceiling to the room on the eighth floor. Maurice’s room, eight thirty-two.

  A warm hand cupped her elbow. Startled, Sister Lou looked up. Chris was standing beside her. His touch had broken the spell.

  “Let’s do this together, Aunt Lou.” His quiet words offered understanding and encouragement.

  Sister Lou started forward again. Chris didn’t let go until they reached the reservations desk. The young man and young woman staffing the desk looked like college students. They offered Sister Lou and her team polite smiles.

  “Good afternoon, I’m Sister Louise LaSalle. Alvin Lyle is expecting us.” She watched the young man disappear into an office behind the reservations area. He returned with Alvin. The hotel manager didn’t look happy to see them.

  “You’ve brought a friend.” Alvin took a position opposite Sister Lou.

  Shari stepped forward and offered Alvin her hand. “Sharelle Henson of The Briar Coast Telegraph.”

  Alvin dropped Shari’s hand as though her skin had burned him. “You brought the media to my hotel? It’s not bad enough that you brought law enforcement, but today it’s the media? Are you working for my competition?”

  Shari raised both hands, palms out. “Simmer down, Al, we’re not—”

  “I’m not Al.” Alvin spoke slowly as though to ensure Shari’s comprehension. “It’s Alvin or Mister Lyle, never Al.”

  “Alvin, we just have a few questions.” Chris’s voice was hard and cold. “We’d like to talk with you and the members of your staff who saw Missus Jordan the night of the murder. Then we’ll leave, and you’ll never see us again.”

  Alvin looked from Chris to Shari to Sister Lou, then to Chris again. “Is that a promise?”

  “And our greatest desire.” Sister Lou’s patience was fraying.

  Alvin had the nerve to appear offended. “Let me make a call.” He excused himself before returning to his office.

  Chris confronted Shari. “I warned you not to call him Al. You couldn’t resist, is that it? I asked for self-restraint, but you chose to antagonize him.”

  Shari gave Chris a serene smile. “It’s a gift.”

  Alvin returned as abruptly as he’d disappeared. “Violet and Tina should be here shortly. What else do you need? You’re taking up a great deal of my time.”

  “It seems to me, Al, that we’re helping each other.” Shari leaned into the front desk and lowered her voice. “Your guest was murdered in one of your rooms. Do you want to help us catch his killer, or do you want your hotel to earn a reputation as a safe haven for murderers?”

  The young clerks across the counter wore identical expressions of wide-eyed, slack-jawed amazement.

  Alvin’s normally pale complexion burned cherry red. “My name. Is Alvin.” He sounded as though he was chewing glass.

  “You wanted to see us, Alvin?” The hesitant voice was a timely interruption.

  Sister Lou stepped closer to Shari and Chris to give the newcomers room at the counter.

  “Violet Fisher.” Alvin gestured toward a tall, slender woman with bone-straight ash blond hair and tired brown eyes. “Tina Manly.” The twenty-something employee was short and curvy with a riot of strawberry blond curls and shy green eyes. “They were on duty when Missus Jordan asked for her husband’s room.”

  Sister Lou shook each woman’s hand. “I’m Sister Louise LaSalle. This is my nephew, Chris, and our friend Shari.” She pulled a photo from her oversized navy purse and offered it to Violet. “Could you tell me if this is the woman you saw that night?”

  Violet and Tina scrutinized the photo. Maurice had sent it to her a couple of years ago. Jessica and Nestor had an arm around each other while they grinned at the camera.

  “That’s not her.” Tina shook her head. “The one who was in here was bigger. She had a fatter face. That one in the picture’s too thin.”

  Violet handed the picture back to Sister Lou. “This lady seems older, too. The one we saw was younger.”

  Sister Lou returned the photo to her bag. “You’re certain?”

  Violet shrugged, glancing at Tina. “As sure as we can be.”

  Tina gave a brusque nod. “Yeah.”

  “Thank you for your time.” Sister Lou exchanged a look of excitement with Chris and Shari. The deputies’ witnesses had just cleared Jessica.

  “Thank you, ladies.” Alvin waited until the two hotel employees had left. “Is there anything else that I can do for you?”

  Sister Lou gathered her thoughts as she resettled her purse strap on her shoulder. “Maurice’s murder was a crime of passion. The killer used whatever was nearby. The medical examiner said Maurice’s wounds had been caused by a blunt, rectangular object.”

  Alvin narrowed his eyes. “A rectangular object? The housekeeper who made up that room after the . . . unfortunate incident . . . said she had to replace the sculpture. It’s our signature sculpture, and the one in that room was missing.”

  “What’s it a sculpture of?” Shari asked.

  “I have one in my office.” Alvin hurried away. He came back carrying a hand-sized, cherrywood sculpture of a black bear. The bear stood on all fours on a rectangular platform. “We also sell it in our gift shop. It’s thirty-nine ninety-nine. As I said, it’s our signature sculpture.”

  Sister Lou took the sculpture to examine
it more closely. A chill went through her. She was holding a replica of the weapon that had killed Maurice. She was certain of it.

  * * *

  Shari hurried across The Briar Coast Telegraph parking lot Tuesday morning. It was not yet eight o’clock. She was over-the-moon excited about her front-page article on the homicide investigation, but the confrontation with Perry was going to be brutal. She needed time to prepare.

  “You must be Sharelle Henson.” The unexpected voice jerked Shari to a full stop.

  Shari’s eyes followed the greeting to the top of the Telegraph’s front stairs. Mayor Heather Stanley and her entourage were blocking the newspaper’s entrance.

  Shari mounted the stairs. “Good morning, Mayor. Is there something I can help you with?”

  “No, but I’ll help you with some good advice. Stop trying to cause a panic in my town.”

  “And how am I doing that, Your Honor?” Shari stood at arm’s length from the mini-mob.

  Heather Stanley could be a Vogue fashion magazine cover model. A scarlet skirt suit complemented her tall, slender figure. Her salon-styled chestnut hair flowed to her shoulders. Her porcelain skin and perfect features were expertly made up.

  “I saw your story on the cover of today’s paper.” Heather’s violet eyes were piercing as she stared through Shari. “Why are you trying to scare good people?”

  Shari’s sarcastic grin masked her feelings of inferiority. “The only people who are afraid of knowledge and facts are politicians.”

  Heather was beautiful even when she was angry. The mayor stepped forward, crowding Shari, but the reporter held her ground.

  “Be careful who you cross in Briar Coast.” Heather stomped down the steps in her expensive scarlet pumps, which were a perfect match to her skirt suit.

  Shari watched as the mayor marched across the parking lot. She’d just met Briar Coast’s version of the Wicked Witch of the West and her flying monkeys.

  Putting the exchange behind her, Shari entered the newspaper’s office, grabbed some coffee, and strode to her cubicle. She took another peek at her article. It did a better-than-decent job of informing the public of Dr. Jordan, his murder, and the investigation. Diego had placed it on the front page of Tuesday’s Telegraph.