House of the Rising Nun

by Dakota Cassidy

  “There are, and I’ll keep that in mind. For now, we need to ask Higgs if there were any gorillas at the party and if there are cameras in the rec room.”

  “How will you do that without raising suspicion? It’s a very specific question, Trixie.”

  Now I tipped my cup of coffee at her. “Also a good point.”

  How would I do that? I was still on shaky ground here. I didn’t know how far was too far if I asked Higgs questions regarding Dr. Mickey’s death. Not that he’d know much anyway. He was as in the dark as I was. Though, while he’d helped me the last time I’d investigated Suzanne, he’d also made it clear his priority was the shelter—not playing at the role of detective. I didn’t want to burn any bridges with him, or upset him if investigating was still a sore spot, but his advice as a former officer of the law had been invaluable.

  No matter. Time was of the essence, and we were wasting the day. I’d figure it out later.

  As I put my makeup away and grabbed some lip balm, I spied my sketch pad on the bed through the door that led to my bedroom.

  A cold chill slithered down my spine. “We need to put that sketch away, Coop. We can’t ever let anyone see it. If the killer turns out to be someone who dressed in a gorilla costume, the police will wonder, if I thought I had evidence, why I’d drawn a picture of him rather than turning him in. No one’s going to believe for a second I drew the alleged murderer in a demonically possessed state.”

  I could only imagine that conversation with Detective Tansy. What’s that you say, love? You’re possessed by a demon? Jolly good then! Off you go to the hoosegow for obstructing justice.

  My stomach turned at the thought.

  “I agree, but we must save it, too, Trixie. It’s too important not to keep.”

  What I really wanted to do was burn it at the stake. I didn’t see the point of saving it.

  I gave her an odd look before I scooted around her and headed into my room to grab a sweater and my puffy vest. “What for?”

  “Because someday, you’ll need to prove to Higgs and Knuckles, and maybe even Goose, what lives inside you. That sketch is proof.”

  Her words stopped me cold. Heaven forbid that day ever happened. We couldn’t just explain my behavior away with the seizure bit we’d been using. That would never fly with someone like Higgs, who had a good investigative eye and intuition for days.

  “Maybe that’ll never happen, Coop,” I murmured, mortified by the possibility, and praying it never came to pass. “Maybe we’ll get rid of this Artur before anyone else sees me go into a demonic rage.”

  She tucked her hair behind her ear. “You do know Suzanne told Knuckles about what happened that day you attacked her, don’t you?”

  Ah, Suzanne—Knuckles’s ex-girlfriend, and the last victim of my possession rage. Coop told her I’d had a seizure when I attacked her—which was brilliant—but that didn’t stop her from telling anyone who would listen that I’d beaten her up, including Knuckles.

  He’d gone to see her one last time before she was indicted by the grand jury for conspiracy, among many charges, and he’d told me what she’d said. She hadn’t bought the seizure bit, so why would anyone else?

  Of course, he’d poo-pooed it, but that was only because she’d proven herself a liar. Knuckles had laughed it off as crazy in a quick conversation, and both Coop and I had kept our lips zipped to avoid lying, but the possibility my friends would witness me behaving like some monster was very real. I never had any warning when a possession might go down.

  Pulling the strap of my purse over my head, I winced at the memory of Suzanne. “I do remember, Coop. But you also remember he didn’t believe her, don’t you?”

  She caught my arm to prevent me from leaving my bedroom. “I do remember, and I remember how much you hated lying to him. But you do know you can’t hide this forever, Trixie. Someday you’re going to be caught, and we won’t be able to hide any longer. It will happen. The odds are not in our favor.”

  I stopped short, suddenly concerned about the burden I was putting on her shoulders. But I also worried about the things she had to hide. “Do you worry about that, Coop? Being discovered?”

  “I worry for you because you’re my friend, and I want you to be happy without the stress of this demonic possession hanging over your head. As for me?” She shook her head, her lush hair falling around her shoulders. “I don’t worry about me at all. All outward signs point to me being an odd duck. I actually heard someone say that about me once when they thought I wasn’t listening.”

  “Aw, Coop, I’m sorry.” People could be cruel. I hated that they were cruel to my friend.

  But she brushed it off. “Yet, even though I’m different, they still appear to like this odd duck, and that’s all that matters to me—that I’m well-liked and respected for my word and my kindness. No one has to know how strong I am or how quickly I can disembowel them with King Arthur.”

  Coop never failed to make me chuckle. I reached up and gave her chin a tweak. “Don’t you worry about me, Coop. I don’t want you to have that kind of stress, either.”

  And I didn’t. I didn’t want her worried about when my next attack would hit or how she’d keep me from doing a bit of my own disemboweling. I wanted her to enjoy her freedom from Hell unencumbered.

  But she placed a hand on my shoulder and stared me down. “But I do worry about you, because we’re friends. You’re my very best friend ever, Trixie Lavender. You’re all I have here on Earth besides Livingston. I would never want anything bad to happen to you.”

  My heart clenched and tears stung the corners of my eyes, threatening to make my mascara run. Patting her hand, I smiled as I prepared to head out the door.

  “Then I guess I’d better keep my disemboweling to a minimum, huh?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “There is no keeping that to a minimum, Trixie. Trust me. It’s so very messy.”

  I laughed the entire way to the front door as I gathered up Livingston and made a break through the rain and gloom to our car.

  * * * *

  “There you are,” Higgs called as I exited Inkerbelle’s, satisfied everything was in order for a couple of hours while I went off to investigate Dr. Mickey’s murder.

  I tucked my puffy vest closer to my chest and up under my chin. We’d had a cold snap since last night, and the ceaseless rain didn’t make it any better, the water pelting my face with an icy sting making me shiver—but this was Oregon in the fall, and I loved it. For every rainy day, there were a few filled with bright sunshine and the glorious colors of the fall leaves

  “I was just thinking about you,” I answered with a smile. I was always happy to see Higgs, and when we didn’t catch up with each other for a couple of days in real time instead of only texting, I found I missed his solid presence.

  He pulled his knit Duck’s cap down over his ears and grinned at me. “Music to my ears. You want to grab some coffee with me?”

  I paused a moment, ducking back under our awning to stay out of the rain. “I’d love to, but first I have an errand I have to run and a question for you.”

  He peered down at me, his dark-chocolate eyes amused. “I bet I know what it’s about…”

  “The errand or the question?”

  “The question.”

  “Really? Are you psychic now? What’s next? A shelter-owning, crystal-ball-reading ex-cop?”

  He laughed that deep laugh I loved so much and shook his finger at me. “You’re going to ask me if I know anything about the investigation into Dr. Mickey’s murder, aren’t you?”

  I put my hand to my throat in clutch-my-pearls fashion and widened my eyes. “You are psychic! Why, I do declare, Cross Higglesworth, aren’t you just full of surprises, bless your heart,” I teased in my best Southern accent, fanning myself.

  “You really are good at accents, you know.”

  I laughed his compliment off as a couple walking hand in hand passed us, giggling with one another. “Okay, yes. I do have a question, but
not necessarily about the investigation. It’s more a question about your party.”

  He held out his muscled arm to me. “Can we grab a coffee while you ask?”

  I hooked my arm through his and nodded, deciding to wait on the errand. “Absolutely.”

  As we began to walk down the sidewalk, passing the shops I’d come to associate with a sense of home, he said, “So talk to me, Sister Trixie. How can I help?”

  “I know this is going to sound strange, but do you remember anyone dressed as a gorilla at the party?”

  The hitch in his step told me he was thinking, and then I saw him shake his head. “Nope. Of course, I had those big Nicki Minaj eyelashes on. It was hard to see much.”

  Darn. As we passed people along the sidewalk, avoiding the potholes and cracks, I asked, “Do you have a camera in the rec room? Maybe one that was videotaping the party that night?”

  “Yep. I sure do. But the police already asked me that—and that’s when we found out someone had turned it off during the party.”

  “Turned it off? Purposely?”

  “It would appear so, but there were no prints on the camera but mine and Cal’s. Anyway, why do you ask, Sister Trixie?”

  I flapped a hand at him as we stopped in front of Betty’s to grab our coffee. This was the part where I had to lie, and I hated it, so I stared off at the mountains in the distance, wondering how much snow they’d accumulated at this time of year.

  “Trixie?” Higgs prompted.

  “Just some muttering I heard about how great the costume was. I wondered if it really was as good as everyone claimed.”

  He pulled the glass door to Betty’s open and smiled at me. “Are you sure that’s why you’re asking?”

  I tried not to avoid his eyes, but lying wasn’t exactly a skill I’d mastered due to the fact that I detested it and I was bad at it—especially when it came to Higgs. But I had to consider the greater good, and the possibility Higgs would use all those connections he had to have me committed if I told him I was possessed and Coop was a demon.

  “Uh-huh,” I answered vaguely, looking ahead at the counter, where Delores manned the espresso machine, the delicious scent of freshly brewed coffee wafting to my nose.

  After he hopped in line next to a burly guy dressed in a red flannel jacket and placed his order, he then turned to me and crossed his arms over his chest, bunching up his black sweatshirt. “So I guess you’re only asking me about cameras in the rec room because you’re suddenly interested in cameras, and it has absolutely nothing to do with gorillas, right?” he asked with a gleam in his eye.

  I paused for a moment. He was so annoyingly smart sometimes—especially when he was catching me in a lie.

  As I was about to stutter an answer, one he’d know I wasn’t being truthful about, he got a text, buying me some time to figure out what I’d say next.

  But I ended up being saved by the bell. Sort of.

  As he read the text, he glanced over the top of his phone at me, his eyes amused. “So, Sister Trixie…care to tell me how you knew about the gorilla costume? The one the police suspect is what the person who murdered Dr. Mickey was wearing?”

  Chapter 10

  I winced. Yeah. That could come off as suspicious if you didn’t know the whole story.

  A whopper of a lie and some fancy footwork were going to be the least of what I needed to get myself out of this one.

  He turned the phone around to face me, pointing to the text with the label Anonymous Source.

  Golly, that anonymous source was going to be the death of me. And who was it, anyway? It always had a convenient answer or helpful clue, and even though Higgs claimed he didn’t know who it was, I wondered if he wasn’t telling me an untruth to protect his source—which would make us both liars. Somehow, that made me feel a little better. I chalked it up to us both working toward the greater good.

  Still, I decided to be as truthful as I could without being truthful, if that makes sense.

  So I rolled my eyes and gave him a guilty look. “Okay, fine. It’s like I said, I heard some distant chatter about someone in a gorilla costume, but I didn’t see anyone in a gorilla costume. It was the only person I didn’t see being questioned or anywhere at the party, for that matter. I sort of made some lame assumptions based on deductive reasoning, you know, the way I do. All I did was put two and two together, but then after you said you hadn’t seen a gorilla costume, I came down from my Nancy Drew high and figured I was jumping to conclusions. But I don’t know anything more about the gorilla than you do. Honest.”

  Which was technically true. Although, this did prove Coop’s theory about Artur working through me to taunt me with clues about Dr. Mickey’s murder. Which was frightening as all get out, by the way, but a piece of information I just couldn’t dwell on right now.

  When he didn’t say anything, I gave him a playful punch to the arm. “But hey, that anonymous source, huh? Way to go. Booyah, anonymous sources.”

  Higgs’s gaze was skeptical, but he tucked his phone back in the pocket of his jeans. “So apparently, according to my anonymous source, they found fibers of black synthetic hair on Dr. Mickey’s costume and in his hair. Someone assumed they had to be from a costume because, hello—Halloween party. From there, they traced the fibers and found they’re most commonly used in costumes that simulate hair or fur. You can guess the rest, can’t you, Nancy Drew?”

  “Oh, lay off. It was just a lucky guess. I think we all know how good I am at this—which is to say I’m not good at it at all. It was a wild shot in the dark.”

  “So you don’t need me to tell you they did an extensive search of the kind of costume the fibers came from and narrowed it down to gorillas, blah, blah, blah. And I guess you also don’t need me to tell you they’ve begun canvassing costume stores in the area for anyone who purchased a gorilla suit, right?”

  “What if the person bought it online—like at Amazon?”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “What if they did, Sister Trixie? Why would that concern you?”

  My sigh was ragged. I had to come clean or I was going to die of the guilties right here in front of him. “Okay, listen. I have a small confession. You know Dr. Mickey and Dr. Fabrizio’s staff, right? The two hygienists who were at the party the other night?”

  “I do. Two nice ladies, both of them.”

  There was no point in beating around the bush, word would get around one way or the other. “They sort of came to me and asked me to help investigate Dr. Mickey’s murder, which is why I was wondering about the gorilla costume.”

  I didn’t bother to tell him about the money they’d offered. He’d probably laugh at me and the very thought someone would pay me to help find a killer.

  He shook his finger at me in teasing admonishment. “I knew it! I knew something was up.”

  As I placed my order, I only half-looked at him over my shoulder. “That’s why you’re the ex-cop and I’m the ex-nun. Because you’re good at figuring things out and I’m aces at the ten commandments.”

  “You’re also aces at avoiding me when you’re doing something you think I’ll beat you up for,” he said, taking the Styrofoam cup I handed him as we made our way out of Betty’s. “I’m not going to try and stop you from nosing around, Trixie. I just want you to be safe when you do it. I mean, you have to admit, you’ve been in some sticky situations—with guns, no less. But all that aside, now I have a question.” He held the door open for me, and we pushed our way back out into the chilly gloom of the day.

  “Okay, question away.”

  “Why didn’t you ask me to help you with your impromptu investigation? That hurts, Trixie—right here,” he said with a chuckle, thumping his chest.

  My eyes widened in shock as I glanced up at him. “I’m sorry, aren’t you the one always teasing me about getting involved?”

  “That would be me, but I never said I didn’t want to get involved. So stop pussyfooting around and tell me where we are?”

  I stopped
in my tracks, speechless. I honestly never thought Higgs would want to get involved. Yet, now that he wanted to, I wondered if it was a good sign or a bad one. Would it upset him to be doing the thing he once left his career for, or was this an itch he’d always need to scratch?

  Either way, I could use the help and his expertise, but not before I teased him.

  “So you want to help me?”

  He winked a luscious eye at me, the dark fringe of his lashes sweeping his cheek. “I always want to help you, Trixie.”

  Now I gave him a skeptical look. “Why?”

  “Because I’m afraid if I don’t, you being you, won’t listen to me when I express my wish you’d stay out of it, and because you can’t stay out of it, my fear is you’re going to land in hot water again. And don’t bother to tell me you won’t, and the last two times were just accidents. Hot water is hot water, no matter how you fall into the boiling pot. I want to be there if you do. Is that so wrong?”

  I gave him a sheepish glance. “No. It’s not wrong,” I whispered.

  He smiled. “Good. Just call me your safety net. Now,” he said, hitching his jaw. “Where are we?”

  “Pretty much nowhere. I scoured social media to start and came up dry.”

  “Did you poke around Amber and Nadia’s pages, too? Just in case?”

  He was referring to my last debacle with Suzanne and her blatant request I help find her husband’s killer, only to find out she’d hired someone to kill her husband.

  “I did, and still dry as a bone. But that errand I mentioned?”

  “Uh-huh,” he said, sipping his coffee.

  “I was thinking it might help if I saw some of Dr. Mickey’s personal things—maybe his apartment. I can’t get a good sense of who he was because the only thing online about him is his practice. Same with Dr. Fabrizio. There’s nothing personal for either of them, unless they have pages under different names. Which I guess stands to reason. It wouldn’t do for them to post memes or personal opinions about various subjects due to professionalism.”