Then There Were Nun

by Dakota Cassidy

  And then it became clear. Jay was the launderer.

  He’d told me he did all the financials and fundraisers for the shelter, which meant he had access to donations and all manner of things. So he’d been laundering money for Fergus? He was the mad guy?

  Every last ounce of energy drained from my body right then and there. I didn’t understand entirely how he’d done it—or even what laundering entailed in the long run, but murder?

  Jay?

  “It wasn’t me, Higgs!” he yelled, tears flowing from his face as Detective Primrose shot from her car and ran to pull Higgs from Jay.

  “Higgs! Stop messin’ about!” she cried, pushing her way between the two men, giving Higgs a shove—a hard one, which I had to admire. Higgs was no slouch in the fit department. “Higgs! Let him go!”

  Higgs finally saw something other than the color red, I suppose, because he let Jay go, hurling him toward one of the officers who caught him, but not before he almost took him out like a bowling pin.

  My feet were finally able to move and they carried me to the cluster of people gathered on the sidewalk in front of the shelter.

  I heard Jay’s cries, his words of denial, and my stomach turned. “It wasn’t me, Higgs! I didn’t do it!”

  “You stole from me!” Higgs thundered over Detective Primrose’s shoulders. “You stole from helpless people—people who trusted you—and then you framed me to cover your sorry hide!”

  “Higgs!” Detective Primrose shouted once more, putting her hand on his chest. “If I have to tell you one more time to back off, mate, I’m going to cuff you and throw you in the cage!”

  Higgs’s nostrils flared, but he took a step back, and that’s when I approached. Cautiously, mind you, and Higgs was so rigid, so tense, every muscle in his body thrumming a palpable vibe, I was almost afraid, but I needed to understand what just happened.

  As the officers kept the two men separate, and they began to question them, I eavesdropped while my knees wobbled and my breathing came in short huffs of air.

  Jay was, in a word, hysterical as he pleaded with Higgs to listen to him from behind the officers who’d cornered him. “I swear to you, man, it wasn’t me! I didn’t kill Fergus!”

  “Higgs,” Detective Primrose ordered, using two fingers to point at her eyes. “Look at me and tell me what you know. Don’t look at him, or in the paddy you go. Now talk. Explain this text.”

  Higgs rolled his head on his neck, but he appeared to have calmed enough to speak his thoughts rather them spit them in anger. “Okay, I don’t know if he took Fergus out for sure, but he was using the shelter to launder money for Fergus. I know he was.”

  Detective Primrose, her lipstick faded, likely from a long day, squared her shoulders. “And you know this how, Higgs? Give me something to work with here. Give me something solid.”

  Running a hand over his chin, his eyes said it best. He was in pain—and that left me very sad. “I know because of Trixie. I know for certain because of Trixie.”

  “And where is our lovely ex-nun?” Tansy asked, her eyes scanning the crowd forming.

  “Here,” I squeaked from behind a tall onlooker, trying to summon some bravado and not sound like a total chicken. I wanted to see justice done, but I somehow couldn’t wrap my head around Jay being a murderer. “How can I help?”

  Higgs pointed a finger at me, his lips a grim line. “Tell her how you saw Jay at three different banks today. That’s what tipped me off, Tans. Remember that money-laundering ring we worked eight years or so ago?”

  Tansy nodded her blonde head, her eyes sharp and clear. “You mean with Bulldog Joe?” she asked.

  “That’s the one,” he confirmed, his jaw so tight, I thought it might snap. “Remember how he’d make deposits in a bunch of different banks to keep the IRS off his back? Trixie saw him today at three separate banks. He was dumping the money for whomever Fergus works for. That’s classic laundering behavior, Tans.”

  Ahhh. Now I understood. Almost. Not entirely. I didn’t understand why he used three banks, but I understood certain amounts of deposits one made could flag the IRS. I knew very little about this sort of thing, but then, I hadn’t planned to launder money through Inkerbelle’s.

  Detective Primrose looked down at me, her glasses at the tip of her nose. “Is that true, Trixie?”

  I nodded my head slowly as I attempted to parse the hows and whys of money laundering. “Yes. It’s absolutely true. I saw him at three different banks, all unaffiliated with one another, just today.”

  Higgs’s nod was sharp, his expression tight. “And do you remember how Bulldog cooked the books? I’d bet my kidney if you get a search warrant, you’ll find two sets of books for the shelter. The one I have and the one Jay has.”

  Jay had become quite silent as he watched with frantic eyes from the other side of the shelter. In fact, he looked quite miserable and haggard. His clothes askew from his scuffle with Higgs, his hair, usually brushed neatly, mussed.

  Detective Primrose chewed on her lip, dragging a hand through her hair. “Then we’ll haul him in for questioning. But that doesn’t mean he’s guilty of murder, Higgs,” she said, but it sounded so pleasant with her British accent, it almost didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

  Higgs’s eyes went hard. “I think it at least warrants an investigation, don’t you? It’s pretty suspicious, all those bank runs, don’t you think? If Fergus was a loan shark, it’s not a stretch to think he’d launder money, Tansy. If Jay got caught up in this somehow, and he wanted out, what better way to get out?”

  Tansy looked doubtful. “And frame you with something as obvious as leaving a mark on Fergus’s neck like your tattoo?”

  “Well, why not? You guys sure don’t have a problem thinking I’d do something as stupid as carve a sign in his neck that matches my tattoo, now do you?”

  “Higgs,” Tansy said, her tone full of warning. “You know it’s not just that, mate. You know.”

  Higgs lifted his chin, his eyes hardening. “Yeah. I know. My hair and a phone call. You don’t suppose my hair could have been planted there by Jay? He’s in my apartment all the time, Tansy,” he said with disgust.

  Clearly, she wasn’t going to elaborate or theorize anymore with her onetime colleague and friend. “Gentleman, let’s take him in,” she ordered with a wave of her hand.

  “Nooo!” Jay howled, so loud it reverberated around the street. “I swear, I didn’t kill him! Higgs, you have to listen to me! I didn’t kill him! Please listen!”

  I’m pretty sure my eyes were bulging out of my head as he begged and pleaded with Higgs and Tansy, but I found myself rooted to the spot, unable to process all of this. How did you process this kind of betrayal?

  Detective Primrose tapped Higgs on the shoulder. “Hear me now, Higgs. You do know you’re still our prime suspect. Don’t you dare think about going anywhere or it’s my backside, understood?”

  “Aw, Tansy, would I leave you high and dry without anyone to wrongfully convict of murder?” His words weren’t malicious at all. In fact, they were pretty light on the sarcasm.

  Man. I’m glad someone could joke about this. I wasn’t quite ready. I was emotionally invested now, and I wanted to understand. “Do you really think he killed Fergus, Higgs?”

  Now his face looked raw under the streetlamp, his eyes dull and glassy, probably from lack of sleep. “I don’t know, but it’s likely, don’t you think?”

  As I thought about that for a moment, I waffled. Something just didn’t feel right.

  “It makes sense. If Fergus was threatening him, and let’s say he wanted out. Which also makes sense because of what Solomon said about him being mad about the laundry. And I’m convinced that’s what Solomon meant. Sure…he could have been angry enough to kill him. But to plant your hair at the crime scene and carve that gang sign in his neck—does that sound like Jay?”

  Higgs rocked back on his heels, driving his hands into his pockets. “Money laundering didn’t sound like Jay either
, but the more I think about it, the more I realize I had an inkling all along—for at least the last six months or so. I didn’t want to believe there was the problem. He’s my best friend. My judgment is pretty cloudy these days—and especially since I left the force. I let my attempt to detach from my old life keep me from paying attention to what was going on right under my nose, Trixie. All the ‘charitable donations,’ all the times he had to go take care of ‘business,’” he spat. “And no, that’s not murder. But could he have murdered Fergus? Sure.”

  “And that’s just it?” I asked, throwing my hands up in the air, feeling this odd sense of unfinished business. An emptiness of sorts. I definitely didn’t feel the way Stevie said she felt after she’d solved a crime. “You just decide your best friend is a murderer? That he framed you for murder? No ifs, ands or buts? I mean, money laundering is one thing, Higgs. It’s bad. Yes. Very bad. A broken law, for sure. But it’s not murder. Murder.”

  He crossed his arms over his chest and looked down at me as a cool breeze blew and the bustle of commerce on our street slowed. There was so much hidden behind his eyes, I didn’t know where to begin, and he wasn’t sharing how much this hurt him, I can tell you that much.

  “After what I’ve seen, anything is possible, Trixie. I realize you’ve been cloistered a good deal of your life, and I’m sorry if that sounds unfair or I sound jaded, but I’ve seen brothers kill brothers over minor infractions like changing the position of the driver’s seat of their car. It’s not a stretch to think Jay might have killed Fergus and framed me if he was panicked enough.”

  Well, okay then. What was left to say? And he was correct. I hadn’t seen a lot of the outside world. I did live in a semi-bubble of love and understanding, at least until my untimely demise as a nun. But I wasn’t completely ignorant to the goings on of the world.

  Detective Primrose didn’t say anything about her feelings on who’d killed Fergus, but she did nod her head as we spoke. I imagine she was right there with Higgs in terms of seeing the horrors of the world.

  Finally, she turned to me, a smile on her face. “So, I see you’re knickers deep in this Fergus’s murder, aren’t you, Miss Lavender?” she said, but she didn’t say it with malice. Her tone was more teasing.

  I shrugged my shoulders and sighed. “I didn’t mean to be. Not really, anyway. I was just in the right place at the right time, I guess.”

  “That’s not what I’ve been hearing around the station, love,” she said with a wink. “I hear you had yourself a jolly brawl with some tossers who were picking on one of the homeless.”

  Suddenly, I was very tired. I fought a yawn and tried to downplay my role in that particular incident. I didn’t need any more trouble. “I scared them off. Nothing more, nothing less. So is there anything else you need from me, Detective Primrose?”

  “I’ll need you to come down to the station and make a formal statement about what you witnessed today.”

  “Can’t it wait, Tansy?” Higgs asked as people began to shuffle in impatience now that Jay was being loaded into a police car and the drama had passed. “She looks exhausted. Trixie needs to go home and get some rest.”

  My cheeks warmed a little at the thought Higgs had noticed I was dead on my feet, but I forced myself to ignore his concern. I was, after all, his best witness at this point. Certainly he’d want to see after me until I gave a formal statement.

  “It can. But I have your word you’ll come to see me directly tomorrow morn, Miss Lavender?”

  I saluted her with a smile, my eyes grainy and tired. “Are you kidding? Miss the chance to be grilled by Portland’s finest while I drink burnt coffee and eat food from a machine that costs as much as a steak dinner? I wouldn’t miss it.”

  She smirked at me, but her eyes twinkled. “Good enough then. On the morrow. For now, I have work to do. Higgs? I meant what I said, bloke. No trouble from you.”

  “Not a chance. Let me know when you get that search warrant to Jay’s place, would you? I’m dying to know what you find.”

  “I most certainly will not,” she said on a chuckle as she stepped off the curb and moved toward her car. “You’re a murder suspect, and don’t you forget it.”

  Now Higgs chuckled, thought I still couldn’t find the funny in this. “Night, Tans.” He held up a hand and waved as Detective Primrose left us standing there together.

  “So that’s that then, huh?” I asked, pushing my hands into the pocket of my jeans, feeling deflated, though I couldn’t say why. For now, I wanted to go home, crawl into that amazing bed in my new bedroom, and sleep for a year.

  “Maybe. I don’t know. I guess we’ll see when they question him.”

  He shook his dark head, his eyes changing from dark to light. He didn’t want to talk about this accusation against Jay, and I sort of understood that. It hurt to find out you’d been betrayed by someone so close to you.

  I put a hand on his arm, noting just how intricate his sleeve tattoos were. I wanted to see them in the light, but for tonight, we both needed some rest. “Will you be okay, Higgs?”

  “I will.” He sounded determined to be okay, but no one was okay after finding out their best friend had been using something as important to them as their life’s passion to siphon dirty money.

  “Listen, I know we don’t know each other very well, Higgs, but if you ever want to talk, call me—anytime, day or night. Or stop by the store. I’ll always have an ear.”

  Suddenly, he smiled, warm and bright. “I’ll do that. But first, are you okay, too?”

  I flapped a hand upward, my cheeks red. “Aside from the impact of that G-force-worthy ride over here? I’m fine. Just tired and thirsty. I’m ready to go home and sleep this murder-mystery hangover off.”

  Higgs laughed and pointed inside the shelter. “I knew he was here at the shelter. I didn’t want him to get wind of this and run before we could confront him.”

  I coughed, my throat still scratchy. “Fair enough.”

  “You want a bottle of water for the ride?”

  “That would be awesome. Hey, can I have your keys? I left my sketch pad in your car.”

  He dug them out of his jeans and tossed them to me. “Back in a sec.”

  I zipped across the road as fast as I could, my legs sluggish and achy, still pondering the idea Jay was potentially a killer. Maybe I was being naive, but it still felt wrong.

  As I popped the lock on Higgs’s car door and reached in to grab my sketch pad, I heard something faint. Stopping, I tilted my head and listened again.

  “Fair maiden!” someone cried, hoarse and deep, making me whip around and peer into the dark spots where there were no streetlamps. We needed more streetlamps on this dang street. I don’t know who I’d have to contact to make that happen, but I was sure going to try.

  “Fair maiden, helllpp me!”

  And then I heard a cough. A phlegm-filled cough, and someone gasping for breath.

  Solomon?

  Adrenaline rushed through me as I lunged across the street. Naturally now, it was virtually empty of all the rubberneckers.

  “Solomon?” I yelled.

  “Help me, please! Stop! Solomon says stop!”

  Gosh, now he sounded kind of far away. But his words had chills racing along my arms. So I stopped cold in my tracks and listened, my pulse beating in my ears. “Solomon! Answer me—where are you?”

  But all I heard was the sound of traffic on the bridge and the quiet of the night now that most of the shops had closed.

  “Solomon!” I hissed into the night, clinging to my sketch pad.

  And then that dreadful, awful hacking cough—only curiously muffled this time—sounded again.

  My heart began to race as I ran toward the dark alleyway , stopping only to call his name and listen for a response. “Solomon! Where are you?”

  Just as I rounded the corner of the building to the alleyway four doors down from the shelter and Inkerbelle’s, I saw someone ,and relief flooded my veins.

  �
�Oh, Solomon! Thank goodness you’re okay! Where have you been, my liege?” I asked as I ran blindly into the dark alley.

  Note to self: In future, when doing a good deed, do it where there’s a lot of light.

  Chapter 15

  As I ran toward Solomon’s voice, two things happened at once. I tripped (go me), and dropped my sketch pad, and someone with strong hands grabbed me and shoved me to the ground.

  I fell with a small yelp of surprise, the force of the shove leaving me breathless as I hit the ground—which was pretty hard and slimy, by the way—and scraping the palms of my hands.

  “What the…?” I cried out, rolling to my back to find someone standing above me with a shaking and stiff-as-a-board Solomon in front of them.

  My first thought was, he didn’t like to be touched. Whoever was holding on to Solomon had a fierce grip on him.

  I attempted to rise without using my hands (I vow to work on my core and lay off the Voodoo Donuts, if I live), but a foot came down hard on my abdomen. “Don’t move!” the voice above me shouted, stomping the heel of their foot into my gut.

  I gagged and sputtered, the searing pain in my belly shooting upward to lodge in my throat. “Stop!” was all I managed to cry out before I attempted to roll away again.

  “Get up!” someone hissed into the dark with a raspy, husky voice—a voice I couldn’t distinguish as male or female. “Get up, and keep your mouth shut, lady, or I swear, I’ll shoot this blabbering idiot!”

  Those words forced me to push myself to my knees and rise, leaning back against the side of a building for support.

  Also note to self: Don’t let yourself get backed into a corner—ever.

  “Solomon’s not an idiot—not an idiot! No idiots!” he cried, making my stomach turn and my heart ache for him.

  And that was when everything became clear, and it wasn’t just my eyes adjusting to the dark. I mean, I fully understood what was going on.

  A terrified, shaking, cringing Solomon, still in his Viking hat, was held captive by none other than Gilligan. Who’d said the word shoot, and as I glanced at the hand he had driven into Solomon’s ribs, I saw what he’d shoot him with.