Bart raised her head. “I’m a light sleeper. Even though everyone on the streets knows me, there’s always a chance some random junkie will decide Crankenstein looks beat up on purpose to hide gobs of cash, like I told you.” Her voice trembled along with her hands. “I heard a voice. I couldn’t tell if it was a man or a woman. I picked up the baseball bat we keep by the back door.”
“Why?”
Olive said, “You’re not thinking again.”
Bart kneaded the mug. “Diane and I are the stars of the annual Catholic Charities softball game. Either of us can break an arm or a kneecap.”
“Disabling a criminal doesn’t contravene our principles of non-violence.” Sister Olive plucked the tea bag from Bart’s mug and pushed the mug and Bart’s hands to Bart’s lips.
Bart looked at her hands like they belonged to someone else but sipped the hot liquid. “I checked this floor first, but all the doors and windows were locked.”
Two EMTs carried a stretcher into the house and down to the cellar. Everyone at the table turned to watch their progress. More voices reached the kitchen through the open front door, but their words were unintelligible. A firefighter stomped through the hall and stopped in the kitchen doorway.
“Would you Sisters have a ladder we could use?”
“I’ll show you where we keep it.” Olive led him to a utility closet off the kitchen and he carried a step ladder down to the cellar.
Bart couldn’t seem to look away even after the ladder vanished. “When I didn’t find anything, I opened the cellar door. I smelled something burning so I ran for the fire extinguisher under the kitchen sink.” She shuddered. Sister Olive took the mug from her hands as it tipped. “I saw flames under the window and emptied the extinguisher onto them. I didn’t see him right away.”
Giulia said in a quiet voice, “Did you check to see if he was alive?”
Bart gasped, giggled, and lost it. She rocked back and forth in the wooden chair, laughing and hiccupping. Tears ran down her face.
Giulia went to the sink and poured a small glass of water. With the dish towel in her left hand, she returned to the table and dashed the water in Bart’s face. Bart gave a louder gasp, hiccupped once more, and the laughter stopped. She stared up at Giulia through beaded eyelashes. Giulia handed her the dish towel.
As Bart wiped her face in silence, Giulia heard a voice outside the kitchen door. She hadn’t paid any attention to the door and now saw it was ajar. As she sidled along the far wall, the opening revealed Ken Kanning’s eyes shining in the moonlight. He spoke in an undertone at a rapid clip, his smooth voice promising delightful scandal to The Scoop’s viewers. Pit Bull, The Scoop’s cameraman, adjusted its light as Giulia watched.
She did not slam the door because slamming it would’ve ramped up Kanning’s “fox hunting chickens” method of reporting. Instead, she shut and locked it as though she were merely trying to keep out the night air. As an added precaution, she checked that all the blinds in the kitchen were closed.
“What are you doing?” Olive said.
“The Scoop is lurking outside.”
“Who?” Bart said.
“Really? I love their show.” Olive turned toward the door, but its small curtains were drawn.
Giulia fist-bumped a befuddled Bart. To Olive, she said, “We’ll have to agree to disagree.”
“But you were great on the Doomsday Cult episode.”
Loud noises came from the front hall. Giulia put her forehead on the table. “Faster than a slamming door. More powerful than a restraining order. Able to leap any barrier in a single bound.” Scuffling sounds joined the voices in the hall. “It’s a skunk. It’s a leech.”
Ken Kanning and Pit Bull leapt into the kitchen.
“It’s The Scoop,” Olive said.
Sister Agatha’s wails billowed down the stairs, cutting off all conversation.
Thirty-Three
“The Scoop never sleeps! Despite the misguided efforts of flatfoot cops and firemen with nothing better to do, we’re in the Convent of the Assumption in the dead of night—literally.”
Kanning gestured and Pit Bull swung the camera to the kitchen clock, then back to his boss.
Even in the dead of night Kanning’s hair radiated perfection. His teeth stopped just short of gleaming. His button-down shirt, open at the collar, conveyed the impression of a pressured executive working overtime for the good of the project.
“These women of God have been dragged from their ceaseless prayers by Criminals In Our Midst.” He gestured again and Pit Bull aimed the camera at Sister Olive’s open mouth. “Sister, could you tell our faithful Scoopers what’s happening?”
Dorothy came running down the stairs. “Is there any cocoa left?” She skidded to a stop as the camera’s light hit her full in the face. One hand went up to smooth her hair.
“I’ll make some.” Bart pushed herself up from the table.
Olive snapped out of her stupor. “I’ll tell you what got us out of our beds in the middle of the night. Victor Eagle himself is stuck in our cellar window like Winnie the Pooh. He tried to burn us out of our home but set himself on fire instead.”
Kanning threw off sparks like a Fourth of July firecracker. His hair stood on end for an instant before he oozed closer to the table.
Dorothy said, “You’re Ken Kanning.”
The Smile beamed on her. “I am, Sister. The Scoop is here to champion the underdog and to do our part to ensure might doesn’t automatically equal right.”
Sister Olive applauded. Giulia suppressed a groan.
“We watch your show whenever we get the chance.” Another wail from the second floor interrupted Dorothy. She closed her eyes for a moment.
Bart waved a plastic tray with penguins dancing around the edge. “Two minutes until the water boils.”
Kanning’s gaze flicked to Bart and back to Olive. He took Bart’s abandoned chair and aimed the microphone at the door warden. “Sister—?”
“Olive. I’ve been a Franciscan for fifty-three years. That’s Sister Dorothy, who takes care of our invalid Sisters. At the sink is Sister Bartholomew.” She straightened her posture. “What do you know about Eagle Developers buying out this entire block and the next for its latest whim?”
Kanning lapped it up. He gestured for Dorothy to sit with them and she came like a star-struck teenager with a backstage pass.
Giulia helped Bart scoop—no, spoon, a much better word—cocoa into four mugs. The instant steam escaped the kettle’s spout, Bart shut off the gas.
“I don’t want to interfere with the news,” she whispered.
“They’re not the news.” Giulia matched her whisper. She didn’t want Kanning the lamprey glomming onto still-shaken Bart. She stirred the cocoa until it dissolved.
Bart brought out the milk and added a little to each mug. “Helps us pretend it’s not the extra-thin bargain basement kind.”
The other nuns were telling Kanning about Sister Matilda’s sudden death when the EMTs brought the intruder’s body up from the cellar. Giulia said a silent prayer of thanks the face was covered.
Bart shuddered and turned away. When she faced the room again, the tray was in her hands. It shook a bit as she stepped forward. Giulia relieved her of it before disaster occurred.
“Sister Dorothy, the cocoa’s ready. Would you like me to bring it upstairs?”
Kanning’s eyes tried to bore holes into Giulia as his unspoken questions dive-bombed her: Why are you here? Who’s your client? Can I trick you into giving something away because it’s late and you’re probably tired?
Dorothy ran a hand through her hair again. “I’ll take it.”
Kanning slithered in. “Let me, please.”
Olive shook her head. “This is a convent.”
Dorothy sagged. “He’s a visitor. It’s been done before.”
“What a great idea.” Olive beamed at Pit Bull, since Kanning’s attention wasn’t on her.
A third wail reached them, longer and louder than the others. Dorothy winced. “Let me make sure everyone’s properly dressed.”
Kathryn opened the back door. “Sister Bartholomew, the detectives want to talk to you.” The briefest pause. “I asked the police to keep reporters out of our house.”
Pit Bull lowered the camera. Kanning dialed his charm meter up to nine. “Sister, we’re The Scoop. We’re so much more than the mainstream news.”
Giulia watched the Superior’s expression also become “fangirl” for a moment before resuming its authority. “Mr. Kanning, I would have preferred to meet you under less trying circumstances.”
Olive interrupted. “He’s already got his eyes on Eagle. He’s on our side. Wait until you hear his plans.”
Giulia nudged Bart. “Get out while he’s distracted. The detectives are Frank and his partner. You’ll be fine. Go.”
Bart went. Dorothy came to the foot of the stairs. “You can come up now.”
Giulia handed Kanning the cocoa tray. When he and Pit Bull were out of sight, she said to the Superior, “I’ll keep an eye on them, but they’re not stupid. They’ll treat the Sisters with respect because it will make good television.”
She ran upstairs. Pit Bull’s camera panned the stairwell and the hall. Kanning carried the tray of mugs like an offering into Helena’s room. Dorothy glanced around and muttered, “At least Olive kept out of it this time.”
“This is Ken Kanning and his cameraman, Sister Helena. They’re the TV show called The Scoop.”
The bedridden nun’s eyes widened and her mouth worked itself into an upward grimace.
“They’d like to interview us as part of an episode on that developer.”
Garbled sounds came from Helena’s mouth. The nurse dipped a teaspoon into one of the mugs and held it to her charge’s lips to drink.
Ken Kanning proceeded to do the impossible: Impress Giulia. He modulated his voice into a semblance of gentleness and asked very few questions. Dorothy translated the replies, but Kanning appeared to win Helena’s heart by maintaining eye contact with her as though he understood every syllable. At the end of the interview, he took her knotted hand with a courtly gesture.
Giulia caught Dorothy’s eye and pointed to herself, then to Kanning. The nurse nodded.
“Mr. Kanning,” Giulia said, “let me introduce you to the second of the three retired Sisters.”
Kanning blew all the ground he’d gained by winking at Giulia like they were a team. Eugenie forestalled any reaction from Giulia by wheeling herself into the hall.
“Ken Kanning in our convent? You, Ms. Driscoll, take our picture. I’m going to frame it when you send me a print of it.” She bumped Kanning’s legs with the chair. “Come down here next to me, Mr. Kanning. You’re the only celebrity I’ve ever met.”
The Scoop never turned down a fan’s request. Eugenie’s smile rivaled Kanning’s in brilliance. Giulia took three shots with her phone, just in case.
“Now all of you come into my room so the noise doesn’t disturb us. Don’t worry about the proprieties, you men. I’m too old and you’re too famous for anyone to think inappropriate thoughts about us.”
Giulia joined The Scoop in the bedroom. The combination of Sister Agatha’s wails, the fire truck’s idling engine, and various shouts from the emergency personnel still on the grounds made conversation difficult. She closed the window.
Pit Bull took an establishing shot of the room before he and Kanning each got down on one knee.
Eugenie wasted no time. “First of all, why are you wasting your lives in Cottonwood? You need to go national. TMZ is celebrity gossip. You’re real news. You’re ripe for a larger audience.”
Giulia was certain only the remaining ambient noise kept her from hearing Kanning purr. Eugenie and Olive were joined at the hip when it came to Eagle Developers, and Kanning got his easiest interview of the night. Eugenie started with Sister Matilda’s death and backtracked through the harassment stories. Kanning interjected an occasional syllable and let the conspiracy theories flow.
The fire truck drove away at the same time Dorothy appeared in the doorway.
“Mr. Kanning, it’s nearly three a.m. and our Sisters need their rest.”
He took the hint and concluded the interview.
“Don’t forget to print out the picture,” Sister Eugenie said to Giulia.
“I’ll bring it later today.”
Kanning invaded Giulia’s personal space. “Who’s the dead guy? Or is it a dead woman? A renegade nun trying to torch the place out of revenge?” He said over his shoulder to his cameraman, “Bull, we may want to add a terrorist angle to the intro.”
Dorothy joined them in the hallway, rubbing her bloodshot eyes. Her face had a gray tinge. Giulia wished she could order the nun to bed and take over Scoop-wrangling duties.
“Thank you for your help, Ms. Driscoll.” She led them to the door at the end of the hall. “Mr. Kanning, let me explain about our third invalid. Sister Agatha has advanced Alzheimer’s. In addition to the usual symptoms, it manifests vocally.” She raised her voice over the moans coming from the other side of the door. “Tonight’s events have unsettled her. She may not be able to address you.” Her hand grasped the doorknob. “If this is the case, please follow my lead in exiting the room.”
“We’ll take our cue from you, Sister.”
Ken Kanning had never sounded so compliant. Giulia turned her head to hide a smile.
When Sister Dorothy opened the door the moans hit them with physical force. The camera’s light made a wide circle on the pillow. The bedridden nun’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“Is it possible to dim your light?” Dorothy hurried around to the other side of the bed and shielded her charge’s face.
“Sure. Sorry about that.” Pit Bull lowered the camera and adjusted the settings.
The moans stopped as the invalid pushed her nurse’s hands away. Pit Bull raised the camera to his shoulder.
Sister Agatha said in a clear voice, “Clarence Finch, why did you desecrate your body with tattoos?”
Thirty-Four
Giulia and Ken Kanning stared at Pit Bull. Pit Bull and Sister Dorothy stared at Sister Agatha.
Pit Bull broke the tableau first. “You’re that Sister Agatha?”
A fresh groan started and stopped. The watery eyes blinked and opened wider. “Clarence, why haven’t I seen you in church for a month?”
Pit Bull aimed a helpless look at the nurse.
“She’s been like this for the last four years.” Sister Dorothy kept her voice low.
Kanning never wasted time recovering from a surprise. “Bull, you know her?”
“She was my sixth-grade teacher.”
Sister Agatha was still staring at Pit Bull. “Well, young man? I’m waiting for your answer.”
In a voice nothing like his usual efficient responses, Pit Bull said, “I work for TV now, Sister. My job, uh, if there’s a breaking news story I have to, that is, I’m supposed to be available to cover it.”
His tone of voice gave Giulia flashbacks to her years in the classroom. The forty-something tattooed biker dwindled into the schoolboy caught cheating.
“If you’re here then you will film me next. Where is my veil? I can’t be seen without my veil.” She pointed a broad finger at the nurse. “Bring me my veil.”
&n
bsp; As Dorothy opened drawers, Ken Kanning moved between Giulia and the bed.
“Sister, I’m Ken Kanning, the voice of The Scoop. We’re here tonight for—”
“Your teeth are false.” Sister Agatha dismissed him with a gesture toward the opposite wall. “Go away. I want Clarence, not you.”
Giulia pushed her face into her arm and almost choked turning laughter into a sneeze.
“Here we are.” Dorothy worked a short modern veil over the invalid’s loose wimple. “You’re all covered now.”
Pit Bull raised the camera into position and the red recording light appeared. “What do you want to say, Sister?”
She raised her index finger. “Remember to keep the principles I’ve taught you. Summer is a source of temptation. Your biggest temptation will be to slack off.” The finger began to shake. “You didn’t think I knew that…that slang…” Her voice shook now. “But I’m not too old…old…” The vowel elongated into a low moan.
Kanning and Pit Bull glanced at each other. Before they could make a decision, the moan turned back into words.
“I can’t make you attend Mass when you’re on vacation, but you know your duty to God and your family. You need the stability and inspiration more than ever. You…you need…you…”
This time when the moans returned her eyes closed and her head sank into the pillow. Pit Bull glanced at Kanning, who held up one hand in a decreasing five count. When his last finger closed into a fist, the cameraman’s hand flicked the switch to “off.”
“This is great copy,” Kanning said. “We’ll do you Sisters proud. For the moment, is there a bathroom I could use?”
Dorothy pushed herself off the wall. “I’ll escort you.”
Everyone filed out. When Kanning closed himself in the half bath between two of the bedrooms, Pit Bull maneuvered in front of Giulia.
“What’s going on?”
Giulia gave nothing away. “Victor Eagle died in a break-in and arson attempt.”
His expression was much ruder than his words. “You know what I mean.”
“Mr. Bull, we are not working together.”
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