“Some people don’t believe you sleep.” Chris tensed. He hadn’t meant to say that. Shari’s unfiltered speech must be contagious.
“I’ve heard those rumors.” Mischief winked across her features, then she grew serious. “It’s been brought to my attention that you’ve been interim for almost five months. Chris, I should have had this conversation with you long ago. This is the description and salary offer for the position of Vice President for College Advancement.”
Chris accepted the single sheet Sister Valerie passed to him. There weren’t any surprises with the position description, but the salary was ten thousand dollars more than his previous boss had made. Not only was he not getting the promotion but his new boss would come in, making thousands more, unproven, off the bat.
Unbelievable.
He swallowed his burgeoning resentment. “Do you want me to chair the executive search committee for the new VP?”
“No.” She sounded surprised. “Chris, you’ve far exceeded my expectations. You’ve energized our faculty, staff, and students. Our donors rave about you. I would dearly love for you to accept the position of Vice President for College Advancement, providing you find the terms of the contract agreeable.”
Stunned, Chris’s gaze flew to Sister Valerie’s, then fell back to the sheet of paper in his hands. It was lucky he’d read the document the first time because, now, he couldn’t see a thing.
Unbelievable.
Chris stood, offering the president his hand. “Sister Valerie, I find the terms of the contract very agreeable, and I’m proud and happy to accept your offer.”
“Wonderful.” Sister Valerie’s eyes shone with pleasure. She stood to clasp Chris’s hand. “We have a lot of work to do, but first, a toast. How about that cup of coffee now?”
“Yes, thank you.” Chris couldn’t wait to tell his aunt. He was even looking forward to sharing the news with Shari.
* * *
“Thank you for dinner.” Sister Lou’s words of gratitude made Shari glow with pleasure.
Her dinner guests had followed her for the three steps it took to cross her tiny kitchen Wednesday evening, carrying their plates and utensils to the sink.
“It was delicious. Thank you.” Chris smiled at her as he set his dinner dishes into the sink.
“You’re welcome.” Shari added her dishes to the tiny sink before adjusting her oversized white cotton T-shirt, which she’d coupled with black lounge pants. “Congratulations again on your promotion.”
Shari had treated them to a simple home-cooked meal of a basic green salad and spaghetti with meat sauce. She’d wanted to cook them dinner even before Chris had announced the news of his promotion. She’d been surprised when he’d called to tell her. Her plans and his promotion had been a happy coincidence. Maybe subconsciously, this had been her way of saying good-bye and thanks for the memories.
The dining accommodations had been snug around the unbalanced table. Oddly, that had made the evening even more fun. They’d laughed each time the table rocked, sending their plates and glasses sliding across its surface.
The conversation had focused on their favorite things: books, movies, music, and sports. Not necessarily in that order. Sister Lou and Chris were huge football fans. Shari had waxed poetic—in her opinion—about basketball. Their good company had made the meal the best she’d ever had. Shari hadn’t mentioned quitting her job, of course. Instead, they’d congratulated Chris on his promotion, complimented her pasta, and basked in Sister Lou’s warmth and good humor.
“What are you doing?” Sister Lou gave Shari a confused look.
Shari lifted her hands. In her right, she held a bottle of dish detergent, in her left, she grasped a sponge. “Washing the dishes.”
Her tiny kitchen didn’t have a dishwasher. There wasn’t enough room.
Sister Lou relieved Shari of the sponge and detergent. “You cooked the meal, and it was fabulous. I’ll do the dishes. You and Chris can sit at the table and keep me company.”
Shari didn’t argue when Sister Lou cupped her shoulders to guide her back to her battered table.
When Sister Lou turned back to the sink, Chris had taken her place. Shari’s frilly, lemon-yellow apron looked comical over his bronze polo shirt and coal black slacks.
He smiled at his aunt over his shoulder. “You and Shari can keep me company.”
Shari laughed at the sight of all that testosterone wrapped up in frills and at Sister Lou’s attempt to appear disappointed for escaping kitchen patrol. Most of all she laughed because it felt good to be with people who cared for each other, and for her.
“I enjoyed your company tonight.” Shari refilled Sister Lou’s glass with lemonade, then poured some for herself.
“We enjoyed yours, too.” Sister Lou’s gaze seemed to probe Shari’s mind.
The pitcher of lemonade gave Shari an excuse to break away from Sister Lou’s examination. She turned her back to the other woman and returned the pitcher to her economy-sized refrigerator. She took a moment to center herself before reclaiming her seat.
“I looked into Kevin Appleby as you asked me to.” Shari settled into the chair at the foot of the table. The position gave her an unobstructed view of Chris’s back as he washed their dishes. “He’s carrying a lot of debt, and his credit’s poor. His personal life is pretty straightforward: only child, never married, no children. Both of his parents died a few years ago. Poor guy’s completely alone.” She knew how that felt.
Sister Lou’s eyes darkened with concern. “What is he spending his money on? Judging by the condition of his company, he’s not reinvesting in it. Could you tell whether he had expensive hobbies, like traveling or collecting cars?”
Shari recalled her computer searches. “No, nothing like that.”
“Does he have a gambling problem?” Chris asked over his shoulder.
“Not that I could tell.” Shari pulled her attention from his back to answer his question. “The only thing this guy has in his life is his company. The most exciting posts I saw on his social media pages were his March Madness pools.” As a basketball fan, she’d enjoyed reading his posts on the National Collegiate Athletic Association’s basketball tournament, which took place every year in March. “But he never bet money on them.”
“Thank you for doing that research, Shari.” Sister Lou’s tone was pensive. “Every bit of information helps.”
“What’s next?” Chris’s back muscles flexed as he scrubbed clean the pots and pans Shari had used.
“Let’s review our list of suspects.” Shari counted off the names with her fingers. “We’ve downgraded Jessica, Emmett, Nestor, and Justin. All for good reasons, but I hope those decisions don’t come back to bite us in the butt.”
“I don’t believe they will.” Sister Lou sipped her lemonade. “Jess was having an affair but she didn’t want a divorce. Emmett is a serial cheater, so he wouldn’t want to end Jess’s marriage, either. Nestor was estranged from his father, and Justin didn’t have any professional jealousy toward Mo.”
“Not that he’d admit to.” Shari switched her attention from Chris’s back to Sister Lou.
“So our top suspects are Goodwin Barrow, Wanda McClane, and Kevin Appleby.” Chris had finished the dishes and was now searching Shari’s cupboards and drawers. He pulled out a pink-and-white dish towel.
“I think so. What do you think?” The twinkle in Sister Lou’s eyes told Shari that she’d noticed her preoccupation with her nephew’s back.
Shari’s face flamed. She shifted on her seat to face away from Chris. “I’ll do some more research into Goodwin and Wanda. But what about the woman who showed up at the hotel the night Maurice was murdered, claiming to be his wife?”
Chris dried another pan before returning it to the cupboard beneath the sink. “Maybe the killer paid someone to impersonate Jess to frame her while covering for himself.”
Sister Lou inclined her head. “We need to learn why one of them would kill Mo and try to frame Jess.”<
br />
“The tricky part will be figuring out who would be able to frame Jessica.” Shari was fascinated by watching Chris learn his way around her kitchen.
After he dried the dishes with the pink-and-white towel, he searched the cupboards and drawers to put the dishes away. What was amazing was that Shari didn’t feel violated by this invasion of her privacy.
“What do we know about Mo as the victim?” Sister Lou stood to pace. “On the one hand, we’d been friends for more than forty years. On the other, there were so many things that I didn’t know about him.”
“His marriage with Jessica was in trouble and his relationship with Nestor was strained.” Chris continued putting away the dishes.
“And those threats against his life,” Shari added.
Sister Lou lingered near Shari’s bookcase. “On the one hand, he was well-liked as evidenced by how many people attended his wake. On the other hand, he was estranged from his wife and son.”
“Maurice was a study in contradictions.” Chris finished putting away the dishes and returned to the kitchen table. “That’ll make it harder to determine why he was murdered.”
Sister Lou reclaimed her seat. “The deputies didn’t find Mo’s jump drive among his belongings.”
“Then Maurice’s killer may have it.” Chris leaned back on the bruised and battered kitchen chair.
Shari balanced her elbow on the table and tugged on her earring. “If Kevin stole Maurice’s jump drive, why would he need to upload the file to his company’s iCloud account?”
Chris shrugged. “So that he could save it as a backup file.”
Shari dragged her fingers through her hair. “It’s already backed up on the jump drive, though. Why would someone upload a file to an iCloud account if they didn’t have to?”
Chris spread his hands. “A jump drive could easily get lost. The iCloud account’s a secure data storage.”
Shari gave him a skeptical look. “How secure was it? It was hacked.”
Sister Lou touched the Hermionean cross pinned to the right shoulder of her beige blouse. “The person would upload a file to the iCloud for the same reason someone would pretend to be Missus Jordan: to set up someone else.”
* * *
Sister Lou let Goodwin into her office late Thursday morning. The grim expression in his green eyes fed her anxiety. There was only one reason he’d seek her out: Mo’s murder. That’s the only interest they shared. What news did he have for her?
She gestured toward her powder-blue guest chairs as she circled her oak desk. “What can I do—?”
“You can tell me why you’re so determined to focus on me as a suspect for Maurice’s murder.” The conservative theologian interrupted her. He must not have time for pleasantries.
“As I explained the last time we spoke, I need to know who killed my friend, and why.” Sister Lou tried to relax back onto her chair. “If it’s any consolation, Goodwin, you’re not the only person I’m investigating.”
“Didn’t I tell you to leave me out of your games? I thought I’d made myself clear.” Goodwin claimed the guest chair to the left of Sister Lou’s desk. The faint medicinal odor she’d noticed in his office surrounded him.
His dark gray slacks and suit jacket looked expensive. It was a slimming look for his pudgy body. Sister Lou was pretty sure his snow-white shirt and pitch-black tie were silk. They obviously had been purchased before his fortunes had taken a turn.
He shifted on his seat, crossing his right leg over his left. “How many people are you investigating?”
“There are a few people—”
“Did you give the sheriff’s deputies all of those names, or just mine?” His frown darkened as though her response didn’t satisfy him.
Sister Lou frowned from her confusion. “I didn’t give the deputies any names. Who told you—?”
Goodwin didn’t look convinced. “Kevin Appleby contacted me yesterday. You had quite a lengthy talk with him recently. He told me you’d given all of my contact information—phone, email, business address—to the deputies assigned to Maurice’s case. He said you’d told them to put me at the top of their suspect list.”
Sister Lou’s jaw dropped. “He said that?”
Now Goodwin looked confused. But whereas his confusion seemed to make him angrier, Sister Lou’s confusion just made her more confused.
“It was in his email.” Goodwin pulled a sheet of paper from his inside jacket pocket, then shoved it across the desk to Sister Lou.
Sister Lou noticed Goodwin’s swollen fingers before turning her attention to the brief and businesslike email. The message was exactly as Goodwin had described. Kevin wrote that he was contacting Goodwin to warn him not to trust Sister Lou or to speak with her. He claimed that Sister Lou had encouraged the deputies to investigate Goodwin as a suspect in Maurice’s murder.
Sister Lou was insulted. When she’d finished reading the email, she slid the sheet of paper back across the desk to Goodwin. “None of this is true. I haven’t spoken with Kevin since Maurice’s wake.”
Goodwin snatched up the sheet of paper and waved it at her. “Why would Kevin send me this message if it wasn’t true?”
Sister Lou spread her hands. “I have no idea. I did speak with the deputies—”
“So Kevin was right!” Goodwin slammed the paper back onto her desk.
She was tired of his interrupting her, so Sister Lou continued as though Goodwin hadn’t spoken. “—on Tuesday, but that was to tell them who I didn’t think were suspects. I’d never give them names of people I thought were guilty, unless I had evidence—”
“What gives you the right to say who you think is guilty and who you think isn’t?” Goodwin stood. “Are you in law enforcement?”
“I’m Maurice’s friend.” Sister Lou leaned back on her chair and smiled up at Goodwin as though her response explained everything.
He didn’t appear to be impressed. “Don’t bother to show me out.”
I’m not going to.
Sister Lou watched him walk out of her office, apparently too upset to remember his printout. Good. She’d use it as evidence when she confronted Kevin about his lies.
She kept her attention on her office doorway. Goodwin had more than a bit of a temper—but was it a murderous one?
There were so many suspects and they were all taking up too much time.
* * *
Shari returned Sister Lou’s hug as they greeted each other just inside the Briar Coast Café Thursday afternoon.
“Where’s Chris? I thought you’d come together.” She stepped back in embarrassment. “Oh, that sounded wrong. I’m happy to see you.”
Sister Lou chuckled. “I knew what you meant. I asked Chris to give us a few minutes alone first.”
Shari’s discomfort was only minimally eased by the scents of savory stew and freshly baked bread that filled the café. She adjusted the strap of her large, purple tote bag on her shoulder. “Uh, oh.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sister Lou wrapped an arm around Shari’s waist as they walked toward the customer counter.
“I should be asking you that.” Shari eyed her friend. “The last time we had a private moment together, you offered me advice about my crush on your nephew. If it’s all the same with you, I’d rather not repeat that embarrassing experience.”
Sister Lou squeezed Shari’s waist, then released her. “I promise, this has nothing to do with Chris. But let’s order our food first, then we’ll chat.”
“That will take more than a few minutes.” Shari’s tone was dry. Sister Lou’s response was a serene smile.
As usual, the customer line moved quickly. Once their food was served, they were lucky to find a table in the back of the diner. Shari sat facing the door, and set her tote bag under the table, between her feet. She bowed her head as Sister Lou said the grace, then picked up her knife and fork to cut into her Mediterranean chicken salad. “What did you want to talk about?”
Sister Lou swallowed a
spoonful of chicken-rice soup. “Are you leaving Briar Coast?”
Shari sipped her drink before responding, “What makes you think that?”
“You’re always so direct until the discussion turns to you.” Sister Lou gave her a wry look.
Shari arched an eyebrow. “And you’re always so observant. So tell me, What clues did you find that makes you suspect I’m thinking of leaving?”
“Is this a test?” Sister Lou flashed a grin. “All right. Yesterday, the Buffalo newspaper quoted your story on its front page. That’s a big deal. You should have been excited. Instead, I’ve never seen you so unhappy.”
“We’ve only known each other two weeks.” And yet Shari had never felt closer to anyone in her life.
“And during that entire time, you’ve never looked so despondent.”
Shari lowered her eyes to her salad. She’d thought she had trouble masking her emotions. But no one had ever cared enough to ask her about her feelings.
Sister Lou continued. “I also noticed that there are fewer books on your bookcase.”
Sister Lou was incredible. And she was right. Shari had done a little winnowing down of her book collection yesterday afternoon just in case she had to move again. “Why do you think that’s significant?”
“Because your bookcase is the only area of your apartment that looks lived in.”
Shari wasn’t offended. Sister Lou was right again. “You’re a very perceptive woman.”
Sister Lou didn’t crack a smile. “What happened yesterday?”
Shari poked around in her salad. “I quit my job.”
Sister Lou’s eyebrows jumped in surprise. “Why?”
Shari took a couple of deep breaths, filling her lungs. Still her chest felt tight.
“Perry’s angry that the Buffalo paper quoted my story. So’s the mayor.”
Sister Lou’s jaw dropped. “The mayor? Why?”
“She wants to maintain the illusion of a peaceful, family-friendly, crime-free community, even if we have to lie. That was the final straw for me. I won’t make up the news.”
Mayhem & Mass Page 24