“Since you put it that way, when do I return?”
“Can you come back today?”
Shari’s eyebrows jumped. “There’s nothing like being wanted.”
* * *
“Do you have a moment, Lou.” Sister Barbara, the congregation’s prioress, stood in Sister Lou’s office doorway Friday morning.
“Of course, Barb.” Sister Lou saved the computer file she’d started and came around her desk to exchange a hug with the prioress.
Sister Barbara took the visitors’ seat closest to the wall and farthest from the door. Sister Lou returned to her chair. Her pulse was galloping. This must have something to do with the leadership team’s decision on her investigation into Maurice’s murder.
What do I do if they want me to stop? I need more time.
Apparently, her time had run out.
“I received a call from the mayor’s office yesterday.” Sister Barbara spoke as though she was discussing the weather. “It seems Marianna isn’t the only one who thinks you should stop your investigation.”
“That contingent is actually pretty strong in number.” Sister Lou folded her hands on her desk to keep from wringing them. “Marianna, the mayor, the deputies, and everyone I’ve interviewed.”
“If there are so many people who are against what you’re doing, why haven’t you stopped your investigation?”
Sister Lou gave the same answer she always gave when people asked her that question. “Maurice was my friend.”
Sister Barbara’s hazel-green eyes warmed behind her silver-rimmed glasses. “And that means something to you.”
“It means everything.” Sister Lou paused to clear her throat. “Why does the mayor want me to stop?”
“She says your investigation, and I’m quoting, ‘is creating the false impression that Briar Coast is a hotbed of violent crime.’”
“I have to disagree.” Sister Lou’s heart pounded in her chest as though it wanted to be freed. “I’ve been very low key. I haven’t called attention to myself, and I certainly haven’t tried to cause a panic.”
“The leadership team understands your position. The mayor has offered an opposing viewpoint.”
“Which is based on a fantasy.” Sister Lou tensed. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Shari’s penchant for speaking her mind was rubbing off on her.
“I agree.” Sister Barbara’s eyes twinkled with humor.
“I’d like the opportunity to address the team so that I can correct the mayor’s misrepresentation of the facts.” Also known as lies.
“That won’t be necessary, Lou. I respect that everything is relative. Compared with some of the communities and countries we’ve been called to serve, Briar Coast is a paradise. It’s a pity the mayor doesn’t appreciate that.” A layer of sadness coated Sister Barbara’s words. “I voted for her.”
“So did I.” But will I vote for her in November?
The prioress straightened in her chair. “The team discussed the mayor’s concerns and Marianna’s opinion that your investigation is pitting the congregation against the sheriff’s office. After a brief consideration, we arrived at our decision.”
“Which was what?” Sister Lou prompted.
“Don’t blindly follow other people when they tell you the right thing to do. Follow your heart and do what you know is right.” Sister Barbara’s smile was joyous. “For that reason, we’re very comfortable with your investigation. Good luck on your search for the truth.”
Sister Lou felt her lips stretch into a wide grin. “Thank you, Barb. My thanks also to the team. This means a great deal to me.” She was anxious to share the good news with Chris and Shari.
Chapter 31
“This is Sister Lou.” Sister Lou answered her office telephone late Friday morning, but her mind was on the outreach program letter she was drafting. It was a solicitation for agency partnerships. She wanted it to be confident and comprehensive, but she also wanted to keep it brief.
“Lou, it’s Jess.” Jessica Jordan sounded relaxed and relieved. “I just got a call from the sheriff’s deputies who are working the murder investigation. They’re on their way to get Kevin Appleby. They’re charging him with Maurice’s murder.”
Jessica’s announcement claimed Sister Lou’s undivided attention. A wave of shock surged through her system like electricity. It rendered her speechless and scattered her thoughts. She and Shari had intended to confront Kevin later that afternoon.
Sister Lou’s gaze dropped to the clock in the lower right corner of her computer monitor. It was close to ten o’clock in the morning.
From Jessica’s end, Sister Lou could hear conversations in the background, ringing telephones, and whirring printers. Maurice’s widow must be at work.
Sister Lou was ecstatic over this news, but also cautious. The deputies hadn’t seemed especially motivated to work on Maurice’s homicide. Had they been drawn to Kevin by the same circumstances that had persuaded Sister Lou, Chris, and Shari?
She sat back on her blue-padded executive chair and corralled her scattered thoughts. “How did they connect Kevin to Maurice’s murder?”
“That nice female deputy, not the evil male one, called me.” Jessica’s words tumbled over each other in excitement.
“Fran Cole.” Sister Lou was glad she wasn’t the only one who found Ted Tate to be a cross to bear. But was it a burden for Jessica to remember the names of the deputies who’d been assigned to investigate her husband’s murder?
Jessica continued as though Sister Lou hadn’t spoken. “She said Kevin’s administrative assistant had found a second set of accounting logs. She brought it in to them yesterday. The ledger showed large discrepancies in the receipts Kevin had given her for the past two years.”
Sister Lou felt a sense of unease. “The deputies are charging Kevin based on tampered bookkeeping records?”
“No, no.” Jessica sounded impatient. “They believe Kevin killed Maurice because Maurice found out that Kevin was stealing money from the company.”
That made sense. “Beatrix said that Maurice and Kevin often argued over money.”
“Who’s Beatrix?”
Sister Lou swallowed a sigh. She picked up her coffee mug and drained its contents. It had grown cold. “Beatrix Thorne is the administrative assistant and bookkeeper for Spreading the Word Productions.” She set her mug back on her desk.
“The deputies used those books as evidence to get a warrant to search Kevin’s office. That’s where they found the murder weapon.”
Sister Lou froze. “Was it a wooden sculpture of a black bear?”
“Yes, it was in Maurice’s desk drawer.”
Was it possible? Had they finally caught Maurice’s killer? Her caution gave ground to relief. “Kevin has been out of his office every time I’ve gone to see him lately.”
“So? That doesn’t mean he’s innocent.”
Another thought occurred to Sister Lou. She glanced at the drawers in her desk. Why would Kevin keep the murder weapon in a drawer in his office for two weeks? She pushed the question aside. The deputies had found Maurice’s murderer. She closed her eyes and said a prayer of thanks.
Sister Lou opened her eyes. “What happens now?”
“The deputies are on their way to Kevin’s house to pick him up.” Jessica’s voice bounced with happiness and relief. “They’ll charge him and then, I guess, we’ll prepare for the trial.”
The deputies hadn’t been as responsive to her when she spoke with them about the case. Maybe the difference was that she brought them theories and questions whereas Beatrix brought them a suspect.
Sister Lou drew a deep, relaxing breath, filling her lungs with the pleasing scent of the white tea potpourri she kept in her office. “Jess, thank you for letting me know that the deputies caught Maurice’s killer. This is a great relief. I’m sure Maurice’s soul is finally resting in peace.”
Sister Lou wrapped up her conversation with Jessica, then cradled her receiver. She looked forward
to telling Chris and Shari that their stints as amateur sleuths would be over soon. However, the little voice in her mind cautioned her to wait until Kevin was in custody before making the calls.
* * *
It had only been two days, so perhaps it wasn’t odd that Shari’s coworkers weren’t surprised to see her back. Still, she was disconcerted by their low-key reaction to her reappearance. As she walked through the newsroom to her cubicle late Friday morning, the copyeditors, editors, and other reporters greeted her as though she was returning from the break room.
Had they even noticed that I’d been gone?
Perhaps their reaction would’ve been different if she’d said good-bye as she’d stormed out of the building, but she’d been too angry. She hadn’t been thinking straight.
Her three-inch magenta stilettos, a perfect match for her magenta skirt, tapped against the linoleum as she continued across the newsroom to her cubicle. It looked the same as it had the day she’d left. Her Merriam-Webster’s Collegiate Dictionary was open to the Bs. A red pen and a dull pencil lay beside the book.
Her desk key was still in the lock of one of her bottom drawers. She pulled it open to store her purse. She secured the lock, pocketed the key, then turned on her desktop computer.
“Welcome back, Shari.” Diego’s greeting alerted her to his presence outside of her cubicle.
Shari turned to him. As usual, the Telegraph’s news editor—now editor in chief—looked like he’d stepped from the cover of a Gentlemen’s Quarterly magazine issue. He wore a gunmetal gray jacket over a black shirt and tailored black slacks. His shirt was open at the neck.
He extended a gift-wrapped box toward her.
With her arms at her sides, Shari eyed the object with distrust. “What’s that?”
“It’s an I’m-sorry-welcome-back-thank-you gift.”
Shari lifted her gaze to his. She could feel the humor bubbling up inside of her. “All of that wrapped into one package?”
“Yes.” Diego gave her a crooked smile. His coffee-colored eyes gleamed with amusement, deepening the lines beside them.
She took the gift and examined it. The silver-and-white wrapping paper covered a box that was a little taller than her cell phone and wider than her palm. “Kind of small to be three gifts in one, isn’t it?”
Diego’s smile widened. He gestured toward his peace offering. “Just open it.”
Shari took her time peeling the wrapping paper from the box. She’d gotten the occasional greeting card, but no one had ever purchased a gift for her. She wasn’t certain how she felt about that, even if it was to say I’m sorry, welcome back, and thank you. She set the intact wrapping paper on her modular desk, then opened the box.
“It’s a coffee mug.” Shari pulled the white porcelain mug from the cardboard box. She grinned at the question screened onto it: CAN I QUOTE YOU?
“You needed one.” Diego gestured toward the gift. “You can’t keep using the Styrofoam cups. Think of the environment.”
Shari chuckled. The gift meant more to her than she was prepared to admit. “Thank you very much. This was very thoughtful of you.”
“You’re welcome.” Diego braced his right shoulder against the cubicle wall and crossed his arms. “Where are we with the story on the investigation into Doctor Jordan’s murder?”
Shari put the mug on her desk. She was looking forward to using it. “We’re getting closer. Sister Lou and I are going to talk with Doctor Jordan’s former business partner, Kevin Appleby, this afternoon.”
“He’s a suspect?”
“One of ours. More than one person has told us that they’re suspicious of him for one reason or another.”
Diego gave her a dubious look. “Have the deputies interviewed him?”
“The deputies haven’t been willing to share their notes with us.” Shari leaned a hip against her desk and crossed her arms. “To be fair, Sister Lou hasn’t shared her suspicions with the sheriff’s office, either. She doesn’t want to put someone under suspicion if it turns out that they’re innocent.”
“When you write the update on the investigation, include a few quotes from one or both of the deputies.”
“I’ll do my best, but they won’t speak on the record.”
“As long as we give them the opportunity to be included in the article.” Diego straightened from the wall. “Ask them if they want you to report that they declined to comment about the first homicide in Briar Coast in more than eight years.”
“That’ll work.” Shari had almost forgotten how exciting it felt to work on a substantive article. “I’ll have the update to you by today’s deadline.”
“I look forward to it. This sister has been helpful during your investigation.”
“Extremely. And her nephew.”
“Good. Welcome back.” Diego smiled as he turned to leave.
Shari watched him go, then picked up her new coffee mug. She had an extra bounce in her step as she strode to the coffee station in the newspaper’s kitchen. Later, she’d call Sister Lou to confirm their plans to track down Kevin. But she was especially excited to tell her the great news that she’d returned to the newspaper. She was staying in Briar Coast—at least for a while. Shari smiled. What would Sister Lou’s reaction be?
Her smile slowly faded. How would Chris react?
* * *
Early Friday afternoon, the Briar Coast Café had begun to fill with hungry, but happy diners. Chris recognized most of the patrons as students, staff, and faculty members of the college. The rest of the customers were employees from other businesses, including the local library and the Telegraph.
Chris turned to Shari, whom he’d called that morning to invite to lunch. “I hadn’t considered that we’d run into your coworkers. Will you be comfortable eating here?”
“Of course.” Shari tossed Chris a grin as she led him to the diner’s counter to place their lunch orders. “But thank you for thinking about that. You’re sweet.”
Sweet? How deflating. He’d also noticed that Shari no longer ogled him the way she had when they’d first met. That depressed him.
As usual, service was prompt. They received their meals, then claimed one of the few remaining tables toward the front of the diner. Chris followed Shari as she led them to the table through the thick scents of confectioners’ sugar, butter, chocolate, cinnamon, and fresh coffee. Shari sat with her head bowed as Chris said the grace over the meal. She seemed to be getting more comfortable with the tradition. Perhaps next time, he’d invite her to say the prayer. Next time. He liked that idea.
Chris lifted his glass of iced tea. “I’d like to make a toast to your return to the Telegraph. I hope this experience is a much happier one.”
Shari touched her glass to his before sipping her lemonade. “You must be a very successful fund-raiser. With all of your charm, people must be fighting each other to write you a check.”
“Not yet anyway.” Chris grinned as he shook the white paper napkin onto his lap. “Are you and Aunt Lou going to meet with Kevin this afternoon?”
Shari paused with her spoon in her bowl of New England clam chowder. “She wants to wait until tomorrow.”
Chris looked up from his beef vegetable soup and turkey and provolone on multi-grain sandwich. “That’s not like her.”
“That’s what I thought. Do you think she’s more nervous about the threatening letter she received than she’s letting on?”
“If she was concerned, she would’ve told us.” Chris took a pensive sip of his iced tea. “Something else is going on. Maybe she needs to concentrate on her outreach project.”
Shari ate a spoonful of her soup. “You don’t think she’d confront Kevin on her own, do you?”
Chris shook his head. “Aunt Lou always keeps her word no matter what. She promised she wouldn’t do this investigation on her own. That means she won’t leave us behind to confront Kevin.”
“Good.” Shari sipped her lemonade. “So are you ever going to tell me why you don�
��t like reporters?”
Chris bit into his turkey and provolone sandwich. Shari’s question wasn’t unexpected. He just hadn’t expected she’d ask it here, or now. Chewing, then swallowing, his sandwich bought him some time. “It’s not important.”
Shari gave a startled laugh. “You’ve been suspicious of my intentions from the second you found out I was a reporter. I have a right to understand the reason behind your unreasonable accusations.”
“They’re not unreason—”
“Stop stalling, Slick. Why do you hate reporters?”
He was silent for a long moment. Was he ready to share this very personal story? Maybe. With her. “My parents were killed in a car accident about fourteen years ago. A drunk driver. We were living in Los Angeles.”
“I’m so sorry.”
Chris nodded his appreciation. “They were both well-regarded members of the community. They hosted fund-raisers for a lot of social organizations, including homeless shelters, food banks, and battered women’s shelters.”
“They sound like great people.”
“I idolized them.” Chris’s chuckle sounded embarrassed even to his own ears. “Their deaths almost destroyed me. If it wasn’t for Aunt Lou, my grief would’ve consumed me. I was dating a reporter at the time. I’d hoped to marry her.”
“This isn’t going to end well, is it?”
“She was starting out, driven, impatient to build a name for herself.” Chris drank more iced tea. His eyes were unfocused as he gazed into the middle distance. “We spent hours talking about my parents. She said our talks were therapeutic for both of us, and they were helping. I told her family secrets, but nothing bad about my parents. I’d never say a bad word about them.”
“But you told her things you’d never told anyone else.” Shari looked wary.
“We were going to get married. She was going to be family. But her intent wasn’t to use those conversations to help me. She was using the information for an exposé on my family. I woke up one morning and found everything I’d told her on the front page of the community section.”
“I’m so sorry, Chris.” Shari reached across the table. Her small, delicate hand covered his. “What did you do?”
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