“Sister Regina, I don’t know what to tell you. I never expected anything like this. Never. If we had only looked into their luggage last night, but how could we have imagined anything like this? What is the Vatican committee going to say about Sisters in jail?”
Giulia stopped her. “What? What are you talking about?”
Sister Arnulf stepped forward. “Jag stoppade honom för Bridgets skull.”
Sister Winifred translated. “She did it for Bridget. Those poor girls were too afraid to say anything, but Bridget told her what that priest did to them. Bridget thought it was safe because no one else understood Sister Arnulf.”
Sister Arnulf poked Giulia’s arm and resumed speaking.
Sister Winifred translated: “When I realized you came here to find the truth, I showed you. I drew a picture of his mole for you. That should have pointed you in the right direction.”
“Why would a mole have done that?” Giulia said.
Sister Winifred translated question and answer.
“Don’t they teach young girls anything? His mole location means ‘treachery.’ How much more of a hint could I give you? You tried to learn my language, but there was no time. Besides, Sister Fabian attached that one to spy on me.” She pointed to Sister Theresa. “I knew I had to act before little Bartholomew gave up.”
Sister Theresa’s mouth fell open. “What does she mean?”
Giulia said, “Sister Fabian and Father Ray addicted the Novices to drugs and used them as their personal delivery service. She also forced them to have sex with Ray to keep them controlled.”
Horrified exclamations from the English-speaking Sisters, including four who were hovering near the Communion rail.
“I’m sorry to spring it on you like that, but since Sister Arnulf knew about the situation, I can see why she’d be suspicious of anyone appointed by Fabian.” Giulia said to Sister Arnulf, “I’m sorry I didn’t understand you.”
Sister Arnulf shrugged when Sister Winifred translated this. “I knew what I had to do. That man—” Arnulf said it with a spitting motion— “was as bad as the Nazi who raped and killed my mother. He even looks like him. As we knew then, so we knew now it was time when God uses His people to mete out His justice. So I emailed Peregrin and Georgia. They contacted one of our American friends from the Resistance. She procured the supplies.” Sister Arnulf smiled. “When you picked up that hockey bag, I thought Peregrin would have a heart attack.”
“Hockey bag? Right—the one in the trunk of the car last night.” Giulia looked at the three visitors. “What did you do?”
Sister Winifred said, “They made a pipe bomb.”
The firefighters carried the used extinguishers out through the opening in the Communion rail.
Giulia stared at the three innocuous elderly women, shaking her head. “We underestimated you.”
Sister Arnulf said one word and the others repeated it, like a secret handshake.
“I had no idea,” Winifred said. “I thought the hockey bag had souvenirs in it. Apparently they haven’t forgotten what they learned in the war. They made the bomb in Peregrin’s room last night. This morning, when the ‘Canon’ began and we heard loud voices from the vestry, she left her seat and walked up to the Communion rail. When Father Ray’s behind crossed the threshold, she pulled the pipe from the folds of her skirt, lit the fuse, and threw it.” Sister Winifred shook her head. “She blocked it from everyone’s view until the last minute. From a tactical standpoint, it was perfect.”
One of the detectives trotted down the steps to them.
“They’ve got the priest stabilized and are taking him to the hospital. The nun doesn’t need it.”
“Thanks, Tony,” Frank said.
Sister Winifred translated for Sister Arnulf and refused to reveal to the group the first part of her reply. Sister Arnulf kept talking.
“She’s angry because her arm isn’t what it used to be. When she was sixteen, the bomb would’ve landed square in the middle of Father Ray’s back.”
“Dia naofa.”
Giulia elbowed Frank.
“You don’t even know what I said.” He gestured toward the Swedish line of defense. “Tony, this is Sister Arnulf. She’s responsible for the pipe bomb.”
Tony stared at Frank, then at Sister Arnulf, whose posture radiated the opposite of remorse. “Driscoll, you’re not telling me I have to arrest a nun old enough to be my grandmother.”
“I’m afraid I am. Correct, Sisters?”
Sister Winifred opened her mouth, but Sister Arnulf spoke first.
Winifred sighed. “She says she can tell you’re a policeman, and she is quite ready to go to prison for stopping that … I won’t translate the rest.”
“It’s bad enough we’re arresting a nun and a priest in there. How the hell am I going to explain this in Confession on Saturday?”
Giulia thought at Winifred: Think of something! Every idea I’m coming up with to prevent that sweet old nun being taken to jail is either lame or ridiculous.
Winifred stepped between Arnulf and Tony. “Gentlemen, I understand that you have a duty to perform. However, Sister Arnulf is a citizen of Sweden and also under the protection of the Vatican.” Her eyes never wavered from Tony’s face. “She also has several health problems in addition to her advanced age.”
Tony returned her steady gaze. “So she isn’t a flight risk.”
Winifred gave him a wide-eyed look. “If you’re reaching that conclusion as a representative of the law, it’s not my place to argue with you.”
“Right, Sister. Let me see what I can do.” He hit the Call button on his cell phone. “Ann? It’s Tony. Give me the captain.”
He walked away, still inside the Communion rail, staring at the statue of Saint Joseph while he talked.
Frank touched Giulia’s shoulder. “You want to keep her out of jail, too, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
“You’re wrong. I don’t care how sweet you think she is. She tried to murder that priest.”
Giulia turned on him. “She blew up arms depots during World War Two. Criminals died because of that. He’s a criminal. How is this different?”
“Simple. It’s against the law. Besides, innocent till proven guilty, remember?”
“He admitted it to my face. If I’d known Sister Arnulf’s plans, I might not have stopped her.”
“Will you listen to yourself? You once said you were all about Franciscan ideals: peace and forgiveness and all that. What happened in three days to make you toss it in the garbage?”
She opened her mouth and closed it again. A cold breeze hit her face; to her left came the sound of a stretcher bumping over the vestry threshold and out the garden door.
“Well?” Frank said, looking in the same direction.
“If I’m honest with myself I think I wish her arm had been what it was in the war.” She sat on the top step. “What does that say about me?”
Sister Bart came out of the vestry and picked up the least-trampled carnations. “They’re not symmetrical anymore.”
“No one’s going to have a cow about that now.”
“Yeah.” Her smile lost its guilty air. “They’re both gone now. They’re not coming back, right?”
Giulia looked up at Frank.
“Yes, Sister. You’ll be called on to make a statement and testify at their trials.”
Bart nodded. “Good. Vivian will too. Sister Gretchen will take care of it.” She sat next to Giulia. “When you two kissed each other back there, it was like watching your hero crumble to bits.” She ducked her head. “I kind of started to look up to you this week. You’ve got balls.” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sister Gretchen will kill me.”
Frank studied the painted ceiling.
Giulia
laughed. “Thank you for the compliment. I’m sorry I had to lie to you, but it goes with the job.”
“Bridget will stop haunting the laundry now.”
Sister Gretchen came over to them. “I want to corral everyone into the refectory. It’s early, but coffee and tea will give them something to occupy themselves. They need to get out of this insanity.”
Bart stood. “I’ll start with the Blessed Virgin side.” One step down, she turned back to Giulia. “You’re going, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I have paperwork to fill out.” She struck a pose. “My work is finished here.”
Bart wrinkled her nose. “That sounds like a line from a corny Western.”
“It made you smile.”
“Cheater.” She held out her hand. “Thanks.”
Giulia stood and clasped it. “Bridget wasn’t haunting the laundry.”
Bart looked skeptical, but turned her attention to the milling, gesturing groups in the nave.
Giulia said to Frank, “That’s why I may not have stopped Sister Arnulf from throwing that pipe bomb. When I get back to the world, I’ll get my head on straight. You got the psychiatric rider on the insurance, right?”
Tony beckoned to them. “Sister—Gretchen, is it? Thanks to some fast talking, our no-longer-retired bomber is under house arrest. A female officer will be stationed outside her door for the next few days.”
Gretchen visibly exhaled. “Thank you, Officer. I’ll be available to help sort things out whenever you require me.”
Frank said, “I’ll drive Giulia to the station and we’ll get the process started.”
“Good. It’s going to be a long day.” Tony went back into the vestry.
“Where did you park?” Giulia adjusted her veil.
“In the driveway. When we missed the priest at his house, we came over here in a hurry. Why is that thing still on your head?”
“Because I have to go upstairs to pack my clothes, and I don’t want to be delayed by a lot of questions.” She smoothed her habit. “See? Just another Sister dealing with the Saint Francis Day Scandal. I’ll meet you outside in ten minutes.”
She weaved through the stragglers in the hallway and main hall. No one stopped her. She stuffed her clothes in her old black suitcase any which way. “Out of here,” she practically sang to herself. “Home. Free. The Novices safe. The scum locked away.” Desk drawer emptied. Dresser drawer emptied. Toiletries, spare habit, pantyhose both pristine and wrecked. Her Godzilla slippers. “Huh. Never took them out of the wardrobe.”
A last look around the room with her hand on the doorknob. “Goodbye and good riddance, cell. Never again.”
As soon as she’d closed the door behind her, Sister Mary Stephen launched herself from across the hall.
“Regina, what horrible scandal have you involved the Community in?”
Giulia set down her suitcase and held out her hand.
“Allow me to introduce myself, Sister Mary Stephen. I’m Giulia Falcone. I’ve been working undercover here for the past few days, and now I’m going home.”
Mary Stephen took Giulia’s hand with an automatic motion, but simply stared without returning the handshake.
Giulia squeezed and released the limp hand. “The Community may be saying good things about me again. I’m afraid you’ve been sucking up to the wrong people.”
She walked away, open raincoat flapping against her suitcase.
“Regina?”
“Offer it up, Mary Stephen. Offer it up.”
The din from the chapel seemed twice as loud now that it was trapped inside the refectory.
Poor Sister Gretchen. Now that she’s taken temporary charge, the ten-ton weight from Fabian and Ray’s sins will get dropped on her shoulders.
Giulia reached the hall. She didn’t detect any smoke odor this far from the chapel, but muddy bootprints discolored the rug. Scuff marks marred the paint in the foyer and dirtied the floor. Of course—firemen aren’t interested in the floor polish when they’re trying to save your house. Fabian would have a cow if she could see it.
She turned the door handle. And what Fabian wants doesn’t matter anymore. Her grin stretched her cheeks so wide, her veil popped off the tops of her ears.
Frank’s Camry idled in the same spot the Convent Clown Car had parked the night before.
Giulia paused in the doorway and took a huge breath of cold fall air. Then she ran down the steps.
Thirty-one
At ten o’clock the next morning, Giulia rang the Motherhouse doorbell—the habits, veils, crucifix, and wedding ring in their box under her arm. Her rented Kia Soul—she couldn’t resist—was parked on the street behind the wall.
Sister Alphonsus answered, her smile more mechanical than sincere.
“Good morning, miss. May I help you?”
“Good morning, Sister. I have a package for Sister Gretchen. She’s expecting me.”
“I see. I’m glad it wasn’t with Sister Fabian—oh. Oh, dear, please don’t mind me. We’re all discombobulated today. Let me find Sister Bartholomew.”
Bart walked into the foyer at that moment.
“Sister, what perfect timing. This young lady is here to see Sister Gretchen.”
Bart looked from Giulia to the doorkeeper and back again. Giulia shook her head slightly, and Bart put on her cheerful smile.
“Good morning, I’m Sister Bartholomew. Just follow me.”
When they were on the first flight of stairs, Bart said, “She didn’t recognize you?”
“Everyone looks different without the veil. How are the troops holding up?”
“The older ones are handling it better than the middle-aged ones. Vivian had to be sedated. The Postulants called home, and they’re both leaving.”
Giulia’s stride broke. “I didn’t think about them. Were they forced into dealing too?”
“No. He waited for vows.”
“To add to the guilt and pressure. Bastard. Oops.” She glanced around, but no one else was on that flight of stairs.
Bart laughed.
Giulia said, “If you’ll forgive a cliché, you look like a different person.”
Bart’s smile dimmed, but not for long. “We’re free. I didn’t realize the weight of it all till the ambulance took them both away. The cops were amazing. They let Sister Gretchen stay with me when I told them everything. I felt kind of bad for her, because there was some stuff I didn’t get a chance to tell her in all the craziness.”
“Frank and I were with them for a good three hours after the Mass that didn’t happen.”
They reached the fifth-floor landing.
“Where is everybody?” Giulia said. “I counted maybe ten people in the halls.”
“Lots of them are in the chapel, praying. Most of the visiting ones hit the road right after breakfast. Sister Gretchen’s been huddled with the Superiors from the other Communities off and on, working out a stopgap plan to run the place.”
When they reached the Novices’ living room, Bart took Giulia by the shoulders. “You look so different. It’s not just the pants and sweater and makeup. You look, I don’t know, bouncier.”
Giulia smiled. “I’m free again. Leaving here—for real—was the hardest thing I ever had to do. Coming back and pretending to belong, and lying, and searching out a murderer, well … let’s say I looked for premature gray hair in my mirror last night.”
“I’m staying, you know.” Bart held her head high when she said it. “Sister Gretchen and I talked till some ungodly hour this morning. I didn’t expect to reach that decision, but when I said it out loud, I knew it was right.”
“Good for you. If God’s talking to you, then you have to listen.”
Sister Gretchen’s door opened. “Sister Regina? No, wait. I’m sorry. I’ve fo
rgotten your name. It’s been crazy here.”
“No problem. It’s Giulia.”
The Novice Mistress closed her sitting room door and pulled out two chairs at a small round table.
Giulia set the box on top of the table. “Everything’s in there. Two habits, two veils, crucifix and wedding band.”
Sister Gretchen placed one hand on the box. “Bart told me what you’ve been doing here this week. She insists that the situation is not my fault, but I disagree. I’m responsible for them, body and soul, for a year and a day. I should have noticed that there was more to everything than the standard adjustment period.”
“You didn’t get invested with psychic powers when Fabian promoted you. Don’t beat yourself up over this. Ray had been dealing for six years after he took over his father’s ten-year business.”
“Oh, my Lord.”
“There’s a sad story behind his father’s fall, but I have no sympathy to spare for Ray. He’s a criminal and a predator, and if I had my way I’d slice his junk off with a serrated knife and feed it to him.” Giulia’s fists clenched and then relaxed. “I’m glad Bart’s content with her decision to stay. I know I don’t have to ask if she and Vivian will be getting counseling.”
“Their first appointments are tomorrow.” Sister Gretchen rubbed her temples. “I know about the box of razor blades, too. Now that the danger is gone, Bart told me everything. The police assured me that she and Vivian won’t be prosecuted.”
Giulia sighed with relief. “There is justice in the world. I wish there was some kind of deal the Community could make for Sister Arnulf.”
Sister Gretchen looked down at the tabletop. “You don’t have to worry about that.”
“Really? Why?”
“They’re gone.”
Giulia’s forehead wrinkled. “I’m sorry?”
Sister Gretchen bit her cheek. “Sister Winifred was on the phone for hours yesterday with the Swedish consulate and the Diocesan office. We all thought she was arranging lawyers and more interpreters and giving them the details of what the three of them had done. The police officer sent to guard them arrived before noon. She stayed in the hall outside their doors, followed them down to the refectory, went everywhere with them except the bathroom.”
Back in the Habit Page 24