Rueful Death

by Susan Wittig Albert

  At the time, I was so totally focused on the case that I put Tom's departure aside to deal with later-something unpleasant that had to be faced, like getting the brakes fixed on the car or replacing the crown I lost halfway through the trial. I didn't feel the pain until the jury came in with a not-guilty verdict and I woke up and realized that where Tom had been, there was now a large and gnawing emptiness. We'd been intimate for less than a year, but he was the first man I ever really loved, and 1 hadn't thought it could end. I hadn't known, you see, that love dies when you don't pay attention to it-especially when there isn't much beside physical attraction to build on. Later, still feeling the loss, I handed in my resignation, moved to Pecan Springs, opened the shop-and McQuaid came along to fill the emptiness.

  I pulled my eyes away. "The Douglas trial," I murmured. "It was a long time ago."

  Tom brushed his blond hair out of his eyes with the boyish gesture mat had always made me want to smile. "Eight years is a long time. Are you in Carr on a case?"

  "I'm not in practice anymore."

  He tilted his head curiously, but didn't say anything, just glanced around the table, taking in Maggie and Ruby in her brown monk's robe. "The three of you are on vacation, then?"

  "Sort of," I said. "We're staying at St. T's for a couple of weeks."

  "Not all of us," Ruby said. "I'm just here for one night. I'm leaving for Albuquerque tomorrow morning." She gave Tom a charming smile, anxious to redeem herself. "What a small world it is. And what a coincidence-you and China running into one another like this. You must be totally surprised." She hesitated, debating, then stepped into it. "How well did you know one another?"

  Tom's tanned face crinkled in the familiar smile that had once made my heart turn over. "Not very well, actually. We only thought we did."

  Ruby's eyes flew to me and her eyebrows became giant question marks.

  "You'll enjoy St. T's," he added. "It's quiet and peaceful-well, mostly anyway. And the Yucca River country is as wild as it gets in this part of Texas." He looked up as Bernice came through the kitchen door. "Hey, Bernie, how ya doin'?"

  Bernice's eyes lit up. "Well, hi there, handsome! Thought mebbe you'd given up eatin'."

  Tom laughed. "Not on your life, beautiful. Took Dad to Dallas for chemo. Miss me?''

  "Did I miss you?" She rolled her eyes expressively. "Nobody calls me 'beautiful' when you ain't around, Tommy."

  "That's their problem. Say, you got any of that world-famous chili back there, darlin'? If you do, I'll take a bowl."

  "Sure thing," Bernice said. She chuckled as she poured his coffee, then refilled our cups.

  I looked at Tom. "Mostly peaceful?''

  "Except for a little excitement from time to time," he replied casually. He turned his chair sideways and crossed his long legs. "A couple of small fires, but no damage." He glanced from me to Maggie. ' 'What would you two say to going riding one day next week? We can get horses from Sadie Marsh-she lives out that way."

  "You know this area, then?" I asked.

  Come to think of it, what was Tom Rowan doing in this little one-horse town? When I knew him, he was a fair-haired, pinstriped superstar at one of Houston's biggest banks. He was talented, confident, and not above using his substantial charm to get what he wanted. Why had he left? How had he ended up here?

  "Does he know this area?" Bernice mimicked scathingly. She put her hand on Tom's shoulder. "Listen, lady, this guy went through all eight grades and high school right here in Carr. He may have had his big-city fling, but he's home now."

  "Tom's president of the local bank, China," Maggie put in.

  "And a member of every community group around,"

  Bernice said proudly, as if she were giving him a recommendation. "Lions, K of C, Community Chest. The town couldn't do without him."

  "He's also chairman of the Laney Foundation Board," Maggie added. At my blank look, she added, "The board that manages St. T's trust fund."

  As Bernice went back to the kitchen to get the chili, Tom had the grace to look embarrassed. "The bank is one of those small, family-owned banks you hardly ever hear about anymore," he said. "My grandfather established it and turned it over to Dad when he retired. Now it's my turn-or will be, when the old man can't handle it anymore. Sick or not, though, he's still the bank's big cheese. I tell him I'm just filling in until he's able to get back to work."

  I was skeptical. The Tom I remembered hated it when somebody else threatened to become a bigger cheese than he was.

  Maggie's face was sober. "How is your father, Tom? Dominica told me he has cancer."

  "Hanging in there. The doc says he's got six months, more or less. He'll be back at the bank for a few more weeks. After that…" He shrugged.

  "I'm sorry," I said, and meant it. I'd met his father a time or two and had enjoyed him.

  "That's the breaks." He smiled crookedly. "Tell you what. The foundation board is meeting at St. T's on Tuesday morning. Sadie is one of the board members, so she'll be there. After the meeting, we'll go to her place, pick up some horses, and take off into the backcountry for a few hours." His eyes were on mine, searching. "What do you say, China?"

  I hesitated. Did I really want to go riding with Tom? Our relationship hadn't so much ended as been broken off, and I'd hungered for him a long time afterward. If I said yes, what would I be letting myself in for?

  But Maggie couldn't know about my reservations. "Why don t you go, she said. "You 11 see some country you won't otherwise see."

  "I think you should, too, China," Ruby put in unexpectedly. "You might not have another chance."

  Tom grinned. "Good," he said. "Tuesday afternoon, then." He looked up with satisfaction as Bernice came in with a bowl of chili. She put it down and turned to Ruby.

  "Well now, Sister," she said, "are you ready for some of that pie?"'

  Outside, a brisk northern breeze was ripping the clouds apart, leaving ragged patches of blue. We had said goodbye to Tom and were about to get into Ruby's car when a man wearing a deputy's badge, a dark blue jacket, and a holstered.357 hurried down the courthouse steps and across the street. He greeted Maggie familiarly, then turned to me. He was a long-nosed man with sagging satchels of skin under bulging brown eyes.

  "Stu Walters," he said, thrusting out his hand. "Miz Bayles?"

  I nodded.

  ' 'Mother Winifred told me you was comin' today. I fig-gered it was you when I saw Sister Margaret Mary here." He looked down his nose at Maggie. "Haven't seen you around lately, Sister."

  Maggie shook her head. ' 'I left the order two years ago. Stu."

  The deputy frowned. "You kin do that? Jes' up an' leave, I mean?"

  "Yes," Maggie said, smiling slightly. "We're not joined at the hip."

  The deputy's puzzlement deepened, as if he were trying to cope with the idea that a nun might not be a nun forever. He gave it up and turned to me. "I was gonna call St. T's in the mornin' an' ask you to come in, Miz Bayles. Guess we kin talk now an' save us both the trouble."

  I turned sideways against the wind. The sun was momentarily bright but there was no warmth in it. ' 'What do you want to talk to me about?"

  "You don't know?"

  "What am I supposed to know?" I said testily. "I've been in your county just long enough to put down an order of chicken-fried steak and onion rings and two cups of Bernice's coffee. If I've broken a law, you'll have to tell me what it is."

  He shifted from one foot to the other. "I guess Mother Winifred ain't told you, then."

  "Told me what?"

  " 'Bout one o' her nuns bein' a firebug."

  "You think one of the sisters is setting those fires?" Maggie exclaimed. "But that's crazy, Stu!"

  " 'Xactly what I told Mother Winifred," the deputy said. ' 'Trouble is, that kind of crazy is well-nigh impossible to catch unless you jes' happen to be standin' next to her when she flicks her Bic."

  Ruby pushed her hands into her sleeves. "Then how do you know it's one of the nuns?"

 
; The deputy gave her a long, squinting look. "Excuse me for sayin' so, Sister, but you ain't in full possession of the facts."

  Ruby sighed. "I'm not a sister either."

  The deputy had had enough. "Then what's that thing yer wearin'? Yer bathrobe?"

  "You're absolutely right," I said hastily. "We're not in possession of the facts, full or otherwise. All we've heard so far are rumors."

  He swiveled to look at me. "You ain't talked to Mother Winifred?"

  "Not about arson."

  "She ain't asked you to look into the fires?"

  I shook my head, but the situation was coming clearer. It became crystal clear when the deputy said firmly, "Well, she will."

  Great. I had thought I was going on retreat. Instead,

  Mother Winifred and God had decided to call me to do an arson investigation. I sighed. "You were the investigating officer at these fires?"

  "Yep. Sheriff Donovan's been laid up since he got broadsided by a drunk a couple months ago." He pushed his mouth in and out. "Gotta tell you, though, Miz Bayles. It's real tough to get a fix on what's goin' on out there. Nobody sees nothin', nobody knows nothin', ever'body covers for ever'body else." He looked from Maggie to Ruby. "They don't call you 'sisters' for nothin'."

  Ruby opened her mouth and Maggie was about to say something, but I spoke first. "In your mind, Deputy Walters, where exactly do I come into this?"

  He scratched his jaw. ' 'Well, Mother Winifred-''

  "No," I said, "what do you think?"

  He puffed his cheeks, debating with himself. Finally he said, "Well, usin' an undercover civilian, 'speshly a woman, ain't somethin' the sheriff's office would norm'ly agree to. But seein's how all the suspects are sisters, an'-"

  "Undercover!" Ruby exclaimed excitedly.

  Maggie pulled at my sleeve. "I swear, China," she said in a low voice, "I didn't know Mother Winifred was going to ask you to do something like this. I thought she meant to ask you to look into the letters."

  "What letters?" I asked.

  The deputy raised his voice and plowed on. "Seein's how the suspects are all women, I says, yeah, sure, go ahead, find yerself an investigator. Just lemme know so's I can clue her in. Couple days later, she gives me yer name." He hitched up his pants. ' T figure what the hell, might as well be you wastin' yer time as me. Them fires was pretty dinky anyway."

  I was beginning to get the drift. Baffled and frustrated, Walters had more or less given up on the investigation. And he was trivializing the fires, which was a bad mistake. They

  might have been minor so far, but fire can be deadly. Dwight might not be around to put out the next one.

  I gave Walters a measuring look. "Just what makes you think I can find the arsonist when you've already struck out?"

  " 'Cause Mother Winifred says you're an experienced investigator." He looked uneasy. "That's right, ain't it? I wasn't expectin' no private license, but you do know what you're doin', don't you?"

  "Of course she knows what she's doing," Ruby said. "China is very smart."

  I turned to Maggie. ' 'What did you tell Mother Winifred about me?"

  "I didn't have to tell her anything," Maggie said, half-defensively. "When I mentioned your name and said you wanted to come for a retreat, she knew who you were. She said she'd heard about Rosemary Robbin's murder, and the way you identified the killer." She bit her Up. "But I had no idea she was going to ask you to investigate arson."

  "Well, if you've had investigative experience, this little job oughta be a cinch," the deputy said briskly, forgetting that ' 'this little job'' had already frustrated him all to hell. "I'll give you a copy of the report an' my notes. All you gotta do is ID the torch an' I'll make the arrest." He frowned. "This don't mean yer offish'ly on the team, though," he added, in case I thought he was inviting me to become one of the Carr County good old boys. ' 'Sheriff says no way kin I dep'tize you, untrained an' a woman an' a ex-lawyer an' all that. You get hurt, you might sue." He narrowed his eyes. "You ain't armed, are you?"

  "Not unless you count my cuticle scissors," I said.

  "That's good," he said. "Anyhow, you won't need no gun. Firebugs don't go in fer rough stuff. Especially a sister." He waved at a silver Trail ways bus pulling up to the corner, belching foul-smelling black smoke. "You won't have no trouble."

  "I knew about the letters, Maggie muttered, "but I can't believe a nun would deliberately set a fire."

  "What letters?" I asked again.

  "Letters?" The deputy pulled his eyebrows together. "Somethin' I shoulda bin told about?"

  The driver got out of the Trailways bus and began pulling things out of the baggage compartment. An old man draped in an ankle-length brown army overcoat and a short, plump blond woman in jeans and a green parka climbed out and stood, waiting for their luggage.

  Ignoring the questions, Maggie turned to me, her mouth set. "The arsonist has to be an outsider. I don't want to accuse anybody, but the Townsends certainly have a grudge against-"

  "Lemme give you the straight of it, Sister," the deputy broke in, speaking with authority. "The Christmas Eve fire was in the sacristy, behind the altar. There was mebbe twenty people in the chapel besides the nuns an' Father Steven. None of the congregation could git into that sacristy without bein' seen. Nope, the torch is a sister. You kin bet yer boots on it."

  Maggie's voice held an edge. "Have you questioned the Townsends? You know how much they hate St. T's. For ten years, they've threatened to-"

  "The Thanksgivin' fire was in the kitchen," the deputy said, raising his voice. "Nobody was on the scene but nuns, the good father, an' the maintenance man. Mr. and Miz Townsend was over at their boy's house all day." He smiled toothily at Maggie. "You 'member their boy, I reckon-Judge Townsend?"

  "What about the maintenance man?" I interrupted. "Did you check him out?"

  He shook his head. "Didn't need to. Hadn't of been for Dwight, the whole place mighta burned down. He's not an employee with a grudge, 'f that's what you're thinkin'."

  Maggie was about to say something else, but she was

  interrupted. The plump woman in the green parka suddenly ran up, flung her arms around Maggie's neck, and cried, "Oh, Margaret Mary, my prayers have been answered! You've come back!"

  And Maggie, calm, serene Maggie, burst into tears.

  Chapter Four

  There is a northern legend that bad fairies gave the blossoms of foxgloves to the fox that he might put them on his toes to soften his tread when he prowled among the roosts.

  Mrs. M. Grieve A Modern Herbal

  The woman in the green parka was Dominica, the friend Maggie had mentioned. We were introduced when I came back from Deputy Walters's office with a copy of the arson report, and I learned that she'd been in Austin at a two-day computer school. She had arrived in Carr expecting to call Dwight to pick her up. But that wasn't necessary now. We shoved her duffel bag into the trunk of Ruby's Honda and squeezed her into the backseat, beside Maggie.

  "Computer school?" Maggie asked when we'd shut the doors. She had regained her equilibrium, but her eyes were still teary.

  Dominica 's round, pleasant face was flushed and she was holding on to Maggie's hand. She might have been thirty-five, but it was hard to tell-she had the kind of youthful face that doesn't betray age. "It was Reverend Mother General's idea. She put Sister Olivia in charge of the bookkeeping, and Olivia put me in charge of the computer." She pulled off her green wool cap and shook out her hair. It was long and a gray ash-blond that added years to her age-and startled me. I thought nuns had to wear their hair short. Obviously, I wasn't up to date on monastic hairstyles.

  ' 'A computerT' Maggie asked wonderingly, as Ruby put the Honda in reverse and backed away from the curb. "Poor Mother Hilaria must be turning over in her grave. She hated the things."

  "Oh, the computer's no problem," Dominica said. She ran her fingers through her hair. "It's what we're supposed to do with it that's the problem. Olivia wants us to keep track of everything, down to the nu
mber of biscuits we eat every morning." Dominica talked fast, without taking a breath. "She ordered Sister Ruth-she's the new housekeeper-to count all the sheets and towels and bottles of Lysol and scrub brushes and things like that, and I'm supposed to enter everything and figure out what it's worth so we'll know how much we've got in assets." She cast her eyes heavenward. "Assets, would you believe? Olivia even told Gabriella to put the garlic into the computer. So we'll know the bottom line, she says."

  Ruby pulled onto the highway and headed west. "The bottom line?" I asked. I didn't know that monasteries cared about bottom lines.

  Dominica made a face. "Olivia says we can't tell how much money we're losing on the garlic because we've never kept track of what we spend. Which of course makes Sister Gabriella look like she doesn't have a brain in her head."

  "Sister Gabriella?" If I was going to keep track of all the sisters, I might need a scorecard.

  "Gabriella runs the garlic farm," Maggie reminded me, and I remembered that she was one of the two candidates. Sister Olivia was the other one. Maggie half-frowned. "She knows everything about garlic, and she's always seen to it that the farm pays for itself. I'm sure Olivia doesn't really think-"

  "Are you kidding?" Dominica asked sarcastically. "Olivia hates our garlic. And she'd do anything to make Gabriella look bad in front of Reverend Mother General." Maggie started to say something else but Dominica shook

  her head firmly. "Don't you lecture me about Christian charity, Margaret Mary. Charity is a virtue that eludes Olivia." She leaned toward Maggie and her voice softened. "I just couldn't believe my eyes when I looked up and saw you standing there, Margaret Mary. It's been two years! Why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

  Maggie hesitated. "Because I wasn't sure I would actually do it," she said in a low voice.

  I glanced at Maggie. Her eyes flickered away from mine and I sensed, once again, that she had a private purpose for coming. What was it?

  "I can't wait to tell you everything.''' Dominica squeezed Maggie's hand and let it go. "I know I should have written," she added repentantly, "but since Olivia assigned me to that wretched computer, I've had precious little time to myself. Would you like to stay in Sister Perpetua's room, next door to me? How long will you be here? At least a month, I hope. It'll take that long for us to catch up." The questions rumbled out in a breathless rush. If Dominica kept on talking so fast, it wouldn't take them a month to catch up-more like a couple of days.