Alibis & Angels

by Olivia Matthews

  “Yes, she’s fine. Thank you for asking.” Sister Lou smiled, remembering the congregation’s Fat Tuesday celebration yesterday evening. Shari and Sister Carmen had once again bonded over the chocolate mini-cupcakes.

  Halfway down the hall, Sister Lou pushed open the metal door that led to the subterranean passageway that wound its way between the motherhouse and the congregational offices. The space wasn’t long. The motherhouse wasn’t far from the offices.

  Sister Lou stepped aside as she held the door open, allowing Sister Barbara to precede her. “Mayor Stanley needs our help.”

  Despite being underground, the space was bright and cheerful. Its pale walls displayed dozens of vibrant, original artwork—paintings, wall hangings, and mounted sculptures—lit by fluorescent bulbs. Some pieces had been donated by patrons of the congregation, but the majority were original art by congregational members who used their talents to express their love for God.

  Sister Lou matched her steps to Sister Barbara’s brisk strides. The passageway was comfortably cool in deference to the art. Their low-heeled shoes tapped against the pale blue concrete floor. Sister Lou was comfortable speaking openly in this space. They were alone since most of the sisters preferred to walk outside to get to the congregational offices—unless the weather was unbearable. In contrast, Sister Barbara preferred the convenience of the passageway. Sister Lou thought the prioress also loved to view the art.

  “Of course.” Sister Barbara inclined her head. “If the mayor needs our help, we’ll do whatever we can to help her.”

  Sister Lou had anticipated the prioress’s response, but Sister Barbara wasn’t yet aware of what the congregation was getting into.

  Do I know what we’re getting into?

  Sister Lou adjusted the strap of her navy purse on her right shoulder. “The mayor has asked to stay in one of the motherhouse’s guest accommodations. She’s been receiving threatening letters. While she was at work yesterday, someone broke into her home. The person left a third letter on her kitchen table. Then later last night, someone attacked her while she was jogging near her home.”

  “Oh dear.” Sister Barbara’s eyes widened behind her glasses. “Is she all right?”

  “She had a mild concussion, but she’ll be fine with some rest.” Sister Lou pushed open the door at the end of the passage. It opened onto the offices of the Congregation of St. Hermione of Ephesus. Her private office was a short distance down the hallway to the left. Sister Lou turned away from it to accompany the prioress.

  Sister Barbara tossed Sister Lou a quick grin as she led the way to her office. “Mayor Stanley doesn’t seem to be the kind of person who knows how to rest.”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Sister Lou thought of her recent encounters with the town official. The young woman seemed to have boundless energy, drive—and determination.

  Who felt so threatened by her that they would terrorize and physically harm her?

  “Of course she can stay with us.” Sister Barbara crossed her office’s threshold and settled onto the powder blue cloth-cushioned chair behind her L-shaped walnut wood desk. “She shouldn’t remain in her home and she definitely shouldn’t be alone, at least not until her assailant is found and taken into custody. Here, she’ll be surrounded by people and we have excellent security.”

  Sister Lou took one of the three matching guest chairs in front of Sister Barbara’s desk. The other woman’s office always smelled pleasantly of cinnamon and peppermints. “Thank you, Barb. Mayor Stanley has agreed to make a donation to cover the duration of her stay.”

  Sister Barbara interrupted Sister Lou with a wave of her hand. “Let’s worry about that later. We have no idea how long it will take to resolve this unfortunate situation, but she can stay here for as long as she needs to. Her safety is our greatest concern.”

  “Thank you.” Sister Lou smiled with relief. “There’s just one more thing. Mayor Stanley doesn’t want anyone to know about the threats she’s been receiving or about her attack. The only people who know are Shari; Chris; Diego DeVarona, Shari’s editor; you; Carm; and me. She’s insistent that no one else know about the threats or attack.”

  “I understand.” Sister Barbara leaned into her desk. “I take it this means she doesn’t want to go to the deputies, either?”

  “No, she doesn’t.” Sister Lou was still unclear about the mayor’s reasoning behind that decision.

  “Will you and your team handle the investigation?”

  Sister Lou leaned back against the thickly cushioned chair. “When Mayor Stanley originally asked for my help, I turned her down. I’m not a professional investigator. I do community outreach.” That’s my charism. These investigations are luck.

  Sister Barbara’s piercing gaze held Sister Lou’s. “I understand why you would be reluctant to take on another investigation. They’re dangerous. But, Lou, you have a gift for them.”

  Sister Barbara’s pronouncement shocked Sister Lou. “I disagree. These investigations are out of my skillset.”

  “You’ve already successfully led two investigations. Each time, you saved innocent people from being charged with crimes they didn’t commit.”

  Sister Lou spread her arms in a helpless gesture. “I have no idea how to even begin this one.”

  “You didn’t know how to start the others, either.” Sister Barbara leaned back against her chair. “You’ll figure this one out, too.”

  “One person has already been killed.” That knowledge drove a fission of fear through Sister Lou.

  Sister Barbara grew solemn. “I realize that these investigations are dangerous, but trust that God gave you this gift for a reason.”

  When did we agree that I had this gift? “I’m also concerned about Marianna. She won’t give up until she discovers the reason Mayor Stanley is staying with us.”

  Sister Barbara waved a negligent hand. “We can handle Marianna.”

  Sister Lou gave her prioress a dubious look. No one could control Marianna.

  Chapter 9

  Later Wednesday morning, Sister Lou met with the rest of the congregation’s leadership team for their daily meeting in the small conference room. Today’s meeting had been rescheduled to a later time to accommodate the seven fifteen Ash Wednesday morning Mass.

  Sister Barbara sat at the head of the oval-shaped walnut wood conference table. Sister Marianna sat to the prioress’s right. Sister Marianna’s blue, gold, and violet scarf complemented her royal blue blazer and a crisp, cloud white blouse. Sister Lou recognized the scarf as one of the original handmade designs by Sister Katharine “Kathy” Wen. The proceeds benefited the orphanage in Haiti that the congregation sponsored.

  Sister Paula Walton sat beside Sister Marianna and across the table from Sister Lou. Sister Paula’s red hair glowed as it curled above the shoulders of her white skirt suit. Sister Angela “Angie” Yeoh sat to Sister Lou’s right between her and Sister Barbara. Her pale gold sweater matched her modest stud earrings.

  The prioress led the leadership team in prayer before their meeting. At the conclusion, Sister Lou added her “Amen” to the voices of the other team members before she made the sign of the cross, touching the tips of her right index and second fingers to her forehead, chest, and left and right shoulders.

  Sister Barbara’s warm gaze touched on each sister seated at the table. “I have two news items to share before we move to our agenda. First, Kathy and her talented team of scarf makers have raised almost eight thousand dollars for our orphanage in Haiti.”

  “That’s wonderful.” Sister Paula clasped her hands together in enthusiasm.

  “Yes, it is.” Sister Barbara smiled. “Please continue to spread the word about the scarves. They made wonderful Christmas presents. They’ll make lovely gifts for all occasions.”

  “Perhaps we should update the website to include how much money we’ve raised for the orphanage.” Sister Lou glanced from Sister Paula back to Sister Barbara. “Knowing their purchase supports such a worthy effort would
encourage other people to buy the scarves as well.”

  Sister Barbara inclined her head. “That’s a good idea, Lou.”

  Sister Lou made a note on her blue-lined writing tablet. “I’ll speak with Kathy about it.”

  “Thank you.” Sister Barbara turned her attention to the rest of the team. “Second, Mayor Heather Stanley will be our guest during this Lenten season. She’ll be staying in one of our guest accommodations starting today.”

  A sense of surprise wove through the silence. Sister Lou noted the curiosity in Sister Paula’s brown eyes. Sister Angela’s eyebrows knitted in question. But neither woman could match the burning inquisitiveness in Sister Marianna’s gray gaze.

  Sister Angela looked puzzled. “Will she be staying for the entire season?”

  “I’m afraid I don’t know how long she’ll be with us.” Sister Barbara waved her hands in a vague gesture. “She assures us that her presence will be unobtrusive. And she’s committed to making a donation to cover her stay, which is very generous.”

  “Indeed.” Sister Paula nodded. “Even if she only stays a few nights, it’s a donation that we hadn’t expected. Are there any special instructions, like don’t talk to her?”

  “Nothing so dramatic.” Sister Barbara smiled. “We can certainly interact with her. All she asks is that we respect her privacy. She’s asked for our discretion. Please don’t let anyone know that the mayor is staying with us. I’d appreciate your help in conveying that message to all of our members.”

  “I don’t understand, Barbara.” Sister Marianna adjusted the silk scarf around her neck. “Why is the mayor staying with us? Why can’t we tell people that she’ll be here during Lent? Why don’t we know how long she’ll be here with us?”

  Still smiling, Sister Barbara turned to Sister Marianna. “Those are the requests the mayor has made. They seem simple and innocent enough. In any event, this is an excellent opportunity to teach the mayor about our congregation and our mission. I believe I read somewhere that the mayor is a lapsed Catholic. Perhaps we can also bring her back to the Church.”

  Sister Marianna’s expression grew more stubborn. She fiddled with her scarf again. “Yes, but why is her stay here a big secret?”

  Sister Lou felt guilty for putting Sister Barbara in the direct path of Sister Marianna’s interrogation. “This is by the mayor’s request, Marianna.”

  Sister Marianna turned her probing gaze on Sister Lou. A light shifted in her gray eyes. Sister Lou knew the moment Sister Marianna identified her as the source of information.

  The scarf slipped a bit from Sister Marianna’s shoulders. “Do you know why the mayor’s coming here?”

  Now I’ve put my foot in it. “Barb and I assured Mayor Stanley that the congregation would be discreet about her staying here. Are you comfortable with that, Marianna, or should we ask the mayor to go elsewhere?”

  Sister Marianna looked taken aback. Her scarf floated from her shoulders. “Of course, I’m comfortable with that. There’s no need to ask the mayor to leave. I was simply asking a question.”

  More than one. Sister Marianna’s curiosity conflicted with the mayor’s need for privacy. Could her prying jeopardize Heather’s safety?

  * * *

  “Welcome to the motherhouse.” Late Wednesday morning, Sister Lou unlocked the guest room the congregation had offered to Heather. She pushed the door open and stepped aside to invite the mayor in. “You’re welcome to stay for as long as you’d like. We hope you’ll be comfortable here.”

  “I’m sure I will be. Thank you for allowing me to stay in your motherhouse.” Heather wheeled her large, black cloth-and-metal suitcase across the threshold. She turned to face Sister Lou in the center of the room. Her vibrant emerald green pantsuit emphasized her slim, fit figure. Her matching green pumps added three inches to her above-average height.

  Sister Lou ignored the quick, furtive glances Heather kept giving the cross that was drawn on her forehead with ashes in recognition of Ash Wednesday. She was used to the startled looks. “You’ll be safe here. After the situation with one of our motherhouse tours, we increased our security awareness. In addition, private rooms aren’t part of our tours.”

  “I forgot that today was Ash Wednesday.” Heather blurted the admission.

  “It’s understandable. You’ve had a lot on your mind.” Sister Lou spoke as she did a visual inspection of Heather’s accommodations.

  The room was bright, cozy, and clean. Its walls were painted powder blue. Its floor stretched wide beneath warm rose carpeting. The main area included a walnut wood dressing table on the left. A small, black television stood on the dressing table. The scent of peppermint teased the air from the bowl of potpourri beside the television. On the right were two single beds and a walk-in closet. Opposite the room’s door, a writing table stood beneath a picture window framed by warm rose curtains. A full blue-and-white-tiled bathroom was tucked behind a partial wall.

  “I wish I could blame my not knowing it was Ash Wednesday on my being busy, but the truth is I never thought about it.” Heather stood her suitcase at the foot of the far single bed.

  “That’s all right. You know now.” Sister Lou sensed Heather’s agitation and frustration. Why is Heather making such a big deal about her oversight?

  “I’d planned to take an early lunch break to move some additional things into your motherhouse.” Heather pulled her right hand through her hair. “I didn’t realize I’d be disrupting your holy day.”

  “You’re not disrupting us.”

  Heather didn’t look convinced. “All right. Good.” She planted her fists on the hip of her emerald pantsuit. Her shoulders were squared. She tilted her curved chin at a defiant angle. “You should probably know that I’m a lapsed Catholic.”

  “Only God is perfect.” Sister Lou gave the public official a beatific smile.

  Heather looked puzzled. “Does that mean that I can still hide out here?”

  “Of course.” It was Sister Lou’s turn to be confused. “Our hospitality isn’t based on a person’s religious practices—or lack thereof.” She smiled. “We welcome everyone. In fact, the Catholic Church has a long history of providing sanctuary to those in need. Pope Francis, our Holy Father, has emphasized the importance of the culture of relationships and the culture of encounters. That’s how people meet Jesus Christ. Making that personal connection marks the beginning of your relationship.”

  “I see.” Heather looked uncomfortable.

  Sister Lou linked her fingers together in front of her. “We celebrate Mass at seven fifteen and ten o’clock Sunday mornings, and four thirty Saturday evenings. We also have daily Masses at seven fifteen and eleven o’clock in the morning, and five fifteen in the evening. You’re always welcome to join us.”

  Heather’s nervous gaze swept left, then right. “I don’t think I can make any of those times during the week, but perhaps I can try a weekend Mass.”

  “You’re not required to attend Mass while you’re here. I just want you to know that you’re welcome to join us at the chapel.”

  “Thank you.” Heather lowered herself onto the powder blue–cushioned seat at the writing table. She crossed her long legs and gestured toward the bed. “Do you have time to talk with me?”

  Sister Lou checked her crimson Timex. It was just after ten o’clock. “I have a few minutes.” She lowered herself onto a corner of the bed, smoothing her ivory polyester skirt over her lap. The thick mattress was firm beneath her thighs.

  “Thank you.” Heather drew her fingers through her hair. “I was relieved—and grateful—when Shari told me you’d agreed to investigate these ridiculous threats against me.”

  “I don’t know whether I’ll be able to identify the person behind the threats, but I’ll do my best.” Sister Lou knotted her fingers together on her lap. Lord, I hope I’m not promising more than I can deliver.

  “I appreciate that.” Heather sat straighter on the cushioned seat. “Where do we begin?”

  We
? “You’re going to take part in the investigation?”

  “Of course.” Heather leaned forward on her seat. “These letters have been sent to me. These are threats against me.”

  “Yes, I know, but—”

  “You don’t expect me to hand the case over to you and meekly bow out, do you? I’m not going to just hang around knitting da—sweaters while you conduct an investigation about me without me.”

  Sister Lou saw the determination in the mayor’s eyes. She also recognized the fear. “You have my word that we’ll keep you completely informed of our progress.”

  Heather was shaking her head before Sister Lou finished speaking. “That’s bu—not good enough. I want to help with the actual investigation.”

  “This could get dangerous.”

  “I’m already in danger, Sister Lou.” Heather wasn’t going to back down.

  Sister Lou conceded to Heather’s resolve. “All right, we’ll work together on the investigation.”

  “Great.” Heather smiled.

  Sister Lou rose. “I’ll leave you to settle in.”

  Heather stood with her. “Thank you again for your hospitality—and your help.”

  “You’re welcome.” Sister Lou turned to leave.

  The arrangement may work to the mayor’s satisfaction, but Sister Lou had her doubts. Why do I have the sense that I’ve just put my team in jeopardy?

  * * *

  Shari sat on the visitor’s chair opposite Diego’s desk late Wednesday morning and considered the black ash cross drawn on her editor’s broad forehead. Before she’d left for work that morning, Shari had read a few pages of the booklet about Lent that Sister Lou had given her. She understood the significance of the ash cross. She didn’t understand why it had to be on one’s forehead, though.

  “What’re you giving up for Lent?” She was fascinated by the things people chose to sacrifice for the season.

  “TV.” Diego took a sip of coffee from his Toronto Raptors mug. The scent of caffeine was giving Shari cravings.