by Kylie Logan
“Might not be Sister Gabriel at all,” I said. “It’s like And Then There Were None, the man the other guests thought was just one of them was really the killer.”
“And you think—”
“I don’t know what I think, Hank,” I had to admit. “But it is an interesting possibility, isn’t it? Sister Liliosa has all the nuns’ contact information,” I told him even though I was pretty sure he remembered.
Hank went into the living room and both he and Sister Liliosa came out again in a bit and headed upstairs. When he came down again, he had his phone up to his ear.
“I appreciate your help, Sister,” Hank said. “No, no, there’s nothing to worry about. I just wanted to clear up a few things.” He listened for a few moments. “Sister Sheila? Well, of course you heard about that, didn’t you? The story is all over the news. Yes, she was attending the retreat here. Yes, yes. Sister Helene was, too. But those questions I asked you, don’t worry about them, Sister. What I was asking about and what’s happened here, it’s probably not connected at all. Thank you, Sister. Yes, God bless you, too.”
He ended the call and tapped the phone against his chin.
“You were right, Bea,” he told me. “Sister Gabriel did miss the dinner in New York. Sick as a dog and her doctor refused to let her go. But I guess you can understand that. The poor dear is eighty-six years old.”
My mouth fell open. “Our Sister Gabriel was, what? Maybe thirty-five?”
“If she was a day.”
Before we had a chance to figure out what it might all mean and how it related to the murders, Sister Francelle poked her head out of the living room doorway. “We’re ready, Chief,” she told Hank and when he walked into the room and didn’t tell us to wait, Levi and I followed.
I wasn’t surprised to find Sister Liliosa at the center of whatever was going on. She stood in front of the fireplace, her hands clutched at her waist. “We’ve taken a vote,” she told Hank, and then because it was apparent neither Levi nor I knew what she was talking about, she looked our way.
“When the chief arrived here this morning,” Sister Liliosa said, “he informed us that we might all be in danger. Yes, yes, I know,” she added before Hank could interrupt. “It’s a long shot, but it’s a possibility. Kind of like dying and going to hell. You’re pretty sure you’re safe, but there’s always that little chance. So the chief here, he told us there’s a possibility that Sister Gabriel is somehow involved in all this, in the murders and the attempted murders, though how she took a shot at herself . . .” Sister Liliosa and Hank had obviously been at odds over this not-so-little detail. That would explain why, for a second, her expression soured. “Anyway, the chief told us he thought it might be best if we all left here and went back to our own convents.”
“And we’ve talked about it,” Sister Mary Jean put in.
“But it didn’t take us long to make up our minds,” Sister Grace added.
Sister Liliosa took a step forward. “We’re staying. And before you can argue the point, Chief, hear me out.”
Yeah, like anyone would dare not give her the chance!
“It’s already Thursday,” she pointed out. “And we’re all scheduled to leave on Saturday, anyway. That’s only two more days and if your officers can’t be with us the entire time—”
“They’ll be here,” Hank assured the nuns even before Sister Liliosa could finish.
“Our other objection to leaving is far more practical. If we change our airline tickets, our convents are going to have to pick up the bill. We’re not willing to put that kind of financial burden on each convent’s budget.”
“So we’re staying.” Sister Grace stood up and walked to Sister Liliosa’s side. “Besides all that, there’s the question of justice to consider. We need to help you find out what happened to Sister Sheila.”
“And to Sister Helene,” Sister Mary Jean joined them.
“And to Sister Gabriel,” Sister Paul said, stepping up.
“And it’s not like we think we’re professionals or anything,” Sister Catherine said. “Not like all of you. But we have to do what we can to make sure the person who did this answers for it. And we’ve got God on our side, remember.” When Sister Catherine stood shoulder to shoulder with her fellow Sisters, her eyes gleamed.
The rest of the Sisters followed suit, even Sister Margaret, whose head seemed a little higher and whose eyes didn’t look nearly as rheumy when she joined the group.
Faced with the determination of the seven of them, Hank had no choice but to give in.
“But you’ll stay in the house,” he said, wagging a finger in their direction. “And nobody goes anywhere alone.”
“Agreed,” Sister Liliosa said.
Hank’s phone rang. He picked up the call and listened for a moment, held up a finger to tell us all to hold on, and stepped into the hallway and though I tried to eavesdrop, it was impossible to hear anything but the low rumble of his voice and a couple words here and there that pretty much amounted to you’re kidding me and you think it’s true?
By the time he stepped back into the room, he was shaking his head.
“That was the chief of police over in Sandusky,” he said, then explained for the Sisters who weren’t familiar with the area. “It’s right across the lake on the mainland, not that far away. They’ve got our Sister Gabriel in custody. Seems she ran a red light in a stolen car this morning and since we had an alert out on her, the cop who stopped her paid attention.”
“Well, that’s wonderful!” Sister Grace clapped her hands together. “That means the mystery is solved!”
“I’m afraid it’s not as easy as that.” Thinking it over, Hank chewed on his lower lip. “See, they got Sister Gabriel in custody over at the station, and they asked her about the dead nuns and the attempt on her life. She’s not talking.”
“But she did admit killing Sister Sheila and Sister Helene, right?” Sister Paul was sure of it. “She must have! She couldn’t hide a secret that terrible. Did she say she was some sort of hit man?”
“Well, that’s the thing, isn’t it?” Hank scratched a hand behind his ear. “About the hit man, see. She says she’s got nothing to do with killing anybody. In fact, she swears the reason she sneaked off the island is because somebody is trying to kill her!”
17
I stared at the mirror and the reflection that stared back at me—a woman who was vaguely familiar, and vastly different.
The eyes were mine. The nose was the same one I remember my college friends once telling me was perfect: short, slim, turned up just the slightest bit at the tip. The cheeks looked a tad pudgier than I liked to think was possible, and I blamed that on the white linen cap that covered my head and completely hid my hair and the wimple over it where Sister Liliosa was just finishing pinning one of her black veils.
She stepped back and beamed a smile at me. “You look good.”
“Do I?” We were in Levi’s living room in front of a full-length mirror that we’d hauled over from Kate’s, and I couldn’t help but take another gander. I turned to my right. I pivoted to my left. “I look—”
Sister Liliosa laughed. “Like a nun! Just like you’re supposed to look.”
I checked out the long black habit I was wearing, the sturdy and sensible black shoes, and the silver crucifix that hung on my chest and caught the light when I whirled to try to see the back of my outfit.
“It’s amazing,” I said.
“I’ll say.” Levi was in the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his chest and a gleam in his eye that I decided right then and there to ignore. He looked from me in my traditional habit to Kate, who was wearing one of Sister Catherine’s short, gray habits and half-veils, to Luella in jeans and a red sweater much like the one Sister Helene was wearing the day I first met her. Chandra was down at the end of the line, also in a traditional habit, and when L
evi glanced her way, he broke into a smile.
Another thing for me to ignore—that smile and all the warmth it sent flashing through my insides.
Then again, that wasn’t exactly too hard when I took a look at Chandra, too.
Her veil sat at a slant on her head, giving her a dashing, jaunty look I was pretty sure nuns weren’t supposed to have. Her habit was bunched up at the back to reveal the purple capris she wore underneath. And something told me that the sandals with the sparkling, beaded toe band would have to go.
The nuns—the real nuns—gathered around Chandra to get her costume in order just as Hank marched in, a coffee cup in his hand and a look on his face that reminded me of the thunderclouds that built over the lake in hot, summer weather.
“I still don’t like it,” he grumbled.
I shot him a look. We’d had this same argument earlier in the day out of earshot of the nuns, and I didn’t want to bring it all up again when they were around. I moved toward the kitchen, remembering only after it was too late that my habit brushed the tops of my shoes and that I’d need to learn to maneuver in it if I wasn’t going to look like a complete phoney.
“Don’t make them feel guilty,” I mumbled when I breezed (okay, so it was more like stutter-stepped) past Hank and into the kitchen, kicking the long skirt of the habit out in front of me so I wouldn’t trip. I made sure I kept my voice down so the nuns—real and fake—in the living room wouldn’t hear. “I told them that I was sure this was going to work.”
“Well, I don’t like it,” Hank muttered.
“That makes two of us.” Levi joined us over near the kitchen sink, though the way I remember it (and believe me, I remember it very clearly) I had not invited him or asked for his opinion. “It’s dangerous.”
“Not with Hank’s guys there.” This, too, was something I’d pointed out a couple dozen times over the course of the last few hours. “You’ll have guys out on the water, so we don’t have to worry about any potshots from boats—right, Hank?”
He nodded.
“And you’ll have guys stationed out front and in the back garden at Water’s Edge and inside the house, too.”
This, too, was what we’d planned so he didn’t bother to confirm.
“So what can possibly happen?”
I didn’t give either one of them a chance to answer. I was a fiction writer at heart, after all, and given enough time to noodle the situation, I could think of a million things that could go wrong, each more complicated—and gruesome—than the last.
This, I should note, is exactly why the League of Literary Ladies had offered its services.
“We can’t let something happen to another one of the nuns,” I reminded them. “We’ve got to draw out whoever it is that’s after them. And we can’t use them as bait. We all agreed on that. That would be dangerous and it would be wrong.”
“Any more wrong than using you four as bait?” Levi asked.
“I can defend myself pretty well,” I said, and left it up to him to remember the time he’d once followed me down a dark street and I didn’t know it was him. Years of self-defense classes back in New York had paid off; I’d taken him out with a well-placed punch in the nose.
Maybe he did remember. Maybe that’s why he sounded so prickly when he pointed out, “And Kate, Chandra, and Luella?”
I glanced into the living room where the nuns were gathered around my friends, fussing and fidgeting, making sure that their habits looked just right and giving them last-minute advice.
My heart squeezed, and my voice caught behind a ball of emotion in my throat. “You know I’m not going to let anything happen to them,” I said.
Hank gave me the briefest of nods. It might have been subtle, but I knew what it meant—he was done trying to reason with me, and he was finally okay with that. It was time for action and now that he’d committed, he’d do everything in his power to make sure that my plan went off without a hitch.
“We’ve got the property covered from all sides,” he said and as he had done earlier after I presented my plan and we hustled the nuns out of the retreat center and over to Levi’s, he pointed to the piece of paper on the kitchen sink and the rough drawing of Water’s Edge. “I’ve got men here, here, and here.” He poked a finger against the parts of the drawing that represented the garden and at various other places around the property. “And like you said, men out on the water. They’re going to be fishing. Like they belong there, so we don’t give anything away.”
“If there is anything to give away.” From the start, Levi had been even more opposed to the plan than Hank. Some little part of me said it was because the whole thing was my idea. But the kinder, gentler me (the one that didn’t remember what a treacherous snake he was) said he was honestly concerned.
“We don’t even know if she’s telling the truth.” He threw his hands in the air. “You’ve heard it a dozen times today, Bea. The cops over in Sandusky are talking to Sister Gabriel . . . or whoever she really is. They don’t know if she’s lying. All she’ll say is—”
“That someone’s out to get her.” I nodded.
“So she could be making the whole thing up.”
“In which case, nothing ventured, nothing gained, and I’ve got my Halloween costume worked out for this year.” I ran a hand over the skirt of the habit. “But if she is telling the truth—”
“This could work. This could flush out our killer.” I had to give Hank credit, he didn’t want to admit it, but he manned up. “If our guy doesn’t know this Sister Gabriel is already on the mainland, he’ll still be around here, still looking for her.”
Levi leaned back against the kitchen sink. “Well, for the record—”
“You think the plan stinks,” I said.
“I think the plan’s dangerous,” he snapped back.
“So noted,” Hank grumbled. “Again.”
“And I think,” Levi said, “that if anyone’s over at the retreat center with the Ladies, it should be—”
“You need to stay here with the nuns.” It had been a sticking point from the moment I proposed the plan; I should have known Levi wouldn’t give in without a last-ditch fight. I told him what I’d told him before. “If we’re going to make this work, we’ve got to keep them safe.”
Levi shot a look into the living room and grumbled enough of a harrumph to let me know he was surrendering. “Me and seven nuns. Who would have thought!”
Hank clapped him on the back. “The only way up here is through the back door. It’s a perfect place to keep an eye on them and a perfect place to make sure no one comes at them. The living room curtains are closed, right?” He leaned backward to look that way just to be sure. “You tell them to stay away from windows and they’ll be fine.”
Levi sighed with exasperation. “What are we supposed to do all night, watch The Sound of Music?”
The nuns had other ideas. I heard the ruffle of playing cards and Sister Francelle called out, “Five card stud, deuces wild. You in, Levi?”
* * *
By the time seven o’clock rolled around, Luella, Kate, Chandra, and I had pretty much gotten used to jumping at every little noise and gasping at each breeze that billowed the curtains in the living room of Water’s Edge. By eight, we’d settled down to watch a movie, though I have to admit, I was so uncomfortable in my hot, scratchy habit and so attuned to hyper-listening for each and every telltale sound in the house, I didn’t pay much attention to what was on the screen.
I’m pretty certain it wasn’t The Sound of Music.
At ten, Chandra suggested we conduct the book discussion meeting we’d missed on Monday and then again on Wednesday when we said we were going to have our makeup meeting, but I knew from the start that was a no-go idea and Luella and Kate agreed. It was quiet at Water’s Edge. Peaceful. But that didn’t mean we weren’t all fidgety. Too nervous to think about Geo
rge Eliot, that’s for sure. Too antsy to do anything other than sit and wait and wonder what we might be waiting for.
Chandra was seated near the fireplace, and either she wasn’t feeling the same tension in the air as the rest of us, or she was a really good actress who got big points for trying to keep our minds occupied.
And not-so-big points considering what she tried to get us to think about.
She stuck a finger under her wimple to scratch her forehead. “The landscapers are coming tomorrow. They’re going to take the final measurements. You know . . . for the pool.” She glanced my way before she turned to Kate. It must have been the habit and the veil that added such an air of innocence to her wide-eyed look. “And the lamppost.”
A muscle jumped at the base of Kate’s jaw.
“Another movie?” I suggested.
“Nothing about wildlife.” The way Chandra jiggled her shoulders made the crucifix she wore on a gold chain around her neck jump. “I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand to think how we’re mistreating Mother Earth. You know, with hunting.” Her look at Luella was as pure as the newly driven snow. “And fishing.”
Luella slapped the arms of her chair, but before she could say a word, Kate had already popped out of her seat.
“What on earth is wrong with you?” she asked Chandra. “Are you trying to pick a fight?”
“Me?” Maybe Chandra could pass for a nun. In some alternate universe. She certainly had the whole guiltless look down pat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m simply expressing an opinion. We’re all allowed to do that, aren’t we? We’re all allowed to have opinions.”
“We are,” Luella told her, “but not when your opinions trample on other people’s rights.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Chandra assured us. “Besides . . .” She pleated the skirt of her habit with busy, nervous fingers. “I’d think you’d all be happy for me. I made some money last summer. You know, with my tarot card and crystal readings. And now I’m going to use that money to beautify the neighborhood.”