The back-and-forth with the deputy had been brutal, but it had been worth it.
What would Ted and Fran say when they read her article tomorrow morning? Whatever their reaction, it probably wouldn’t be printable.
Chapter 30
“Louise, why did the mayor come to see you today?” Sister Marianna’s question preceded her into Sister Lou’s office late Wednesday afternoon. She settled onto the guest chair directly in front of her.
Sister Lou made a show of lowering her pencil and setting aside the report she’d been revising. She’d expected this visit much earlier. Sister Marianna had either been busy or she was slipping.
Sister Lou gave her guest a gracious smile. “Good afternoon, Marianna. Did you have a pleasant lunch?”
“Yes, yes.” Sister Marianna was as cranky as ever. “Now, tell me about the mayor’s visit. It’s not a good sign that a public official has come to see you out of the blue.”
Sister Lou’s smile held fast. “I’m looking forward to tomorrow’s Thanksgiving festivities, aren’t you?”
Sister Marianna gritted her teeth. “Certainly, I am. Now, about the mayor’s visit, Louise . . . ?”
Her mission accomplished, Sister Lou grew serious. “Your instincts are correct. Mayor Stanley wants us to drop our investigation into Autumn’s murder.”
“Well, she’s right, of course. We’ve cleared the congregation of any and all suspicion. I can now focus on my responsibilities to the congregation and you should do the same. Surely, the deputies can handle the cleanup.”
Sister Marianna wore a warm brown skirt suit. Today’s handmade, one-of-a-kind scarf was a cheerful citrus orange pattern. In a way, it was a relief having the old Sister Marianna back. Sister Lou had missed the other woman’s assertiveness, condescension, and officiousness while she’d been under the deputies’ scrutiny. She hadn’t missed their regular confrontations, though.
Sister Lou shifted to sit at an angle on her executive chair. She toyed with her pencil as she contemplated the watercolor rendering of St. Hermione of Ephesus that hung on the opposite wall of her office. “Aren’t you curious as to why the mayor wants us to stop investigating Autumn’s murder?”
“Not at all.” Sister Marianna’s lack of curiosity was amusing.
“I am.” She faced the other woman with a smile. “Someone went to the mayor to ask her to tell us to stop asking questions about a murder. Don’t you want to know who, when, or why?”
“Really, Louise.” Sister Marianna’s impatient sigh bordered on dramatic. “Is it so surprising that the deputies would complain about you to the mayor? You know things between you and the sheriff’s office have been tense ever since you stepped on their toes with your amateur sleuthing into Dr. Jordan’s death.”
If my previous investigation was so amateurish, why did you ask for my help when the deputies made you a suspect? “The deputies weren’t the ones who asked the mayor to intervene.”
“Then who did?” Sister Marianna’s smooth brow creased with confusion. Her recently discovered inquisitiveness was somewhat satisfying.
Sister Lou glanced at the half-full mug of chai tea beside her forearm. It had helped to settle her stomach after she’d rushed through lunch to get back to her projects. “The mayor wouldn’t say, but she led me to believe it was a wealthy political supporter.”
Sister Marianna threw up her arms. “That’s even more reason for you to stop traipsing all over Briar Coast, interrogating people. You don’t want to aggravate the mayor’s supporters. They could be our supporters, too.”
“Someone was murdered, Marianna. Someone we knew. I’d think that would be important, as well.”
“Of course it’s important, but the deputies can handle it. It’s their job. It’s time you focused on yours.”
Sister Lou ignored the shot of temper through her veins. She sipped her cooling chai tea. “The deputies may not consider you a suspect any longer, but the congregation’s still the subject of gossip and speculation. There are people who don’t think it’s a coincidence that we’ve had a connection to the town’s last two murders.”
Sister Marianna spread her hands. “We can’t help what other people believe.”
“Actually, we can, by finding the real killer. We owe that to Autumn and to ourselves.”
Sister Marianna’s sigh was long and deep. “Do you know what I think, Louise?”
“I’m sure you’ll tell me, Marianna.”
“I think you investigate these cases because doing so makes you feel special. I think you enjoy being the center of attention.”
Do you also think I enjoy putting myself and the people I love in harm’s way? “That’s not the reason I agreed when Barb asked me to clear the congregation’s reputation, nor is it the reason I said yes when you came to me for help.”
Sister Marianna stiffened. “I appreciate your intervention, but why did you do it if not for the attention?”
“There are easier, safer ways of attracting attention, Marianna.” Sister Lou’s lips curved in a small smile. “I chose to look into Autumn’s murder to protect the congregation and to find justice for someone I respected.”
“The congregation is no longer in danger and you didn’t even know Autumn Tassler that well.”
Sister Lou considered Sister Marianna’s words. They made sense. Why, then, were questions still plaguing her? “If the congregation’s out of danger, why did someone try to frame you and why did someone ask the mayor to warn me off the case?”
* * *
“What is this crap?” Ted snarled from behind Shari as she sat in her cubicle, absorbed in her work first thing Thanksgiving morning.
She must have jumped a foot off her padded gray desk chair. She spun her chair to confront the deputy, her pugilistic personality coming to the forefront.
“What is your problem?” Shari stood.
She’d been so involved in her work, she hadn’t noticed the ringing phones, the clacking keyboards, or the shouted conversations all around her. So much noise and it was only eight o’clock in the morning.
Her glare swung from Ted to Fran, who stood beside him, then back to Ted. Both deputies were in full uniform, thick brown winter jackets, tan shirts, black ties, spruce green gabardine pants. They each carried their brown felt campaign hats tucked under their right arms. Emergency services and daily newspaper personnel had something in common: neither took federal holidays off. It was Thanksgiving and they were all on the job.
“What is this?” Ted waved the Thursday edition of the Telegraph at her like a bat. She thought she could smell the smoke billowing from his ears.
Shari’s eyes dropped to the newspaper. She didn’t have to see her article to know it was at the center of today’s storm. Its headline read: Deputies Throw Resources at Stalled Murder Case.
Apparently, the bill had come due. “You mean the update on the Tassler murder case.”
“Why did you say that we’re stalled?” Fran jabbed her index finger at the paper.
The deputies were vibrating with tension. Shari could feel it from where she stood almost a yard away. “Do you have any leads?”
Fran scowled at her. “We don’t have to share our evidence with you.”
Shari folded her arms over her chest. “I disagree and so would the community you serve. We have a right to know.”
“Where did you get that quote?” Ted swung the newspaper again.
Shari knew the quote he was referring to. There was only one in her article: We’re throwing all of our resources at this case, working long hours, chasing down information. We know how important this case is and we’re not going to rest until it’s solved.
She raised her eyebrows. “You gave me the quote during our telephone interview. It’s good.”
“I didn’t give you permission to use it.” Ted sounded outraged.
Shari shook her head. “You knew I was interviewing you. If you didn’t want to be quoted, you should’ve said, ‘No comment.’”
Ted’s gray eyes widened with realization. “You deliberately goaded me into responding to you.”
“Did I?” Guerilla interview tactics. Shari hoped she’d pulled off the innocent act. Her attention dropped to the paper in Ted’s fist. “I think I made you look pretty good.”
“You made me look good?” Ted’s mouth moved but it took a moment for the words to come. “Who do you think you are, Dan Rather?”
“More like Gwen Ifill.” She gave Ted a cheeky grin.
Fran practically sneered. “Not even close.”
So the deputy was familiar with the late, great Peabody Award–winning journalist and television news anchor. That was surprising. Fran didn’t strike Shari as a fan of public broadcasting. “Look, the public needs to know there’s a murderer in Briar Coast. My job is to arm them with information to help them protect themselves. Who knows, they might even be able to provide you with useful information, like Sister Lou and I have.”
Fran inclined her head toward the paper. “You also let them know that Sister Lou and her congregation are in the clear.”
“They needed to know that, too.” Shari shrugged.
“You think you’re clever?” Ted’s lips tightened with anger. “You’re not going to get another word out of us about this case or any future ones. From now on, it’s No comment all the way.”
Shari watched the deputies march out of her cubicle. That probably hadn’t gone as well as it could have. She stared at the Telegraph lying on her desk. Ted’s quote was good. Diego had been pleased with it, which had made her feel redeemed in his eyes.
But what am I going to do the next time?
* * *
“You should apologize to the deputies.” Chris’s unjust ruling triggered all of Shari’s defenses.
They were continuing the conversation they’d begun in Chris’s car late Thursday afternoon. Insisting they should ride together, he’d picked up Shari from her apartment and driven them to the motherhouse for the congregation’s Thanksgiving buffet dinner.
The festivities were held in the same room in which the congregation had hosted the celebration for the new and returning members of its leadership team. As soon as she’d entered the spacious hall, the mouthwatering aromas of the Thanksgiving meal had assailed her: savory meats, seasoned vegetables, warm breads, and sweet pastries.
“Why should I apologize? I haven’t done anything wrong.” Shari frowned as she moved through the main serving line in the recreation hall. Why was she bothering to add green bean casserole to her plate of turkey and stuffing if Chris was just going to ruin her appetite?
The room was bursting in vibrant fall colors—red, gold, orange, and brown—in the tablecloths, napkins, and recyclable paper plates and cups. The hall was filled with the friends and family members of the sisters who’d chosen to celebrate the holiday at the motherhouse rather than travel out of state or even across town for the weekend.
“I know how uncooperative the deputies are.” Chris accepted the casserole serving spoon from Shari and added the side dish to his plate. “But Diego’s right. Their comments add credibility to your story.”
Urgh! Chris had a point even if she didn’t want to hear it. Shari turned to scowl at him but was temporarily distracted by how handsome he looked in his burnt umber sweater, navy slacks, and canvas shoes. He’d had the day off. He had tomorrow, Friday, off, too. The perks of working for a college.
Shari, however, had worked a full day and hadn’t had time to change before dinner. She was still in her garnet sweater, turquoise pants, and matching stilettos.
“I’ve tried to work with them.” Did Chris hear the defensive note in her voice? “We told them about January Potts’s false alibi. They haven’t followed up with her. We gave them the list of employees for the background check and the vendor’s name. They haven’t told us what they’ve learned from it.”
Shari added still-warm whole-grain dinner rolls to her plate and Chris’s plate before leading him to the beverage table. Their options included fruit punch, lemonade, iced tea, and a choice of sodas, beers, and wines. Shari waited to see what Chris chose.
“The run-in you had with them this morning probably drained all of that goodwill.” Chris selected a bottle of beer.
With an inner sigh of relief, Shari took a bottle as well. “And that’s my fault? I should apologize? Even if I did, they probably wouldn’t accept it.” She moved on to the dessert table, looking for her sugar solace.
“It’s a first step toward reconciling with them.”
The pastries and baked goods spread across the small dessert table rendered Shari speechless: apple pie, pumpkin pie, chocolate cake, coconut cake, and various puddings, cookies, and brownies.
Shari selected two chocolate-frosted brownies with walnuts. The thick, rich treat seemed to know her name. These sisters knew how to lay out a buffet. She took one of the brownies and put the other on Chris’s tray.
He gave her a puzzled smile. “Isn’t pumpkin pie more appropriate?”
“Chocolate is appropriate in every situation.” She noticed that he didn’t change the selection. “Anyway, the deputies should be reaching out to us. We’re the ones who’ve provided critical information toward solving the case. They need us more than we need them.”
“And that, Padawan, is why you fail.”
Shari smiled at his paraphrased reference to the Star Wars saga. “What do you mean?”
Chris maneuvered around furniture and people as he escorted Shari to a table for four where Sister Lou sat conversing with Sister Carmen. “That attitude isn’t going to help with your investigative reporting.”
Shari sighed. “How do you suggest I build these bridges with the deputies, then?”
“For starters, consider limiting your outer voice.” Chris’s tone was dry and he continued his weaving path across the room. “Your assertiveness is one of your most attractive traits, but it also puts people on the defensive.”
“You find my assertiveness attractive?” Shari was caught off guard by his comment and forgot to be offended.
He looked at her over his shoulder. “I’m in the minority.”
She scowled. “Right. So refrain from speaking the truth.”
“That’s not what I said. You need to choose when to compete and when to cooperate. Right now, the deputies aren’t our enemies. Whoever killed Autumn is.”
Shari caught Sister Lou’s eye as they approached the older woman’s table. “Then I should channel my inner Sister Lou?”
“That would be a good start.” Chris took a seat beside Sister Carmen, leaving the chair beside Sister Lou for Shari.
Sister Carmen said the grace over the meal. Shari had become more comfortable with the prayer, bowing her head as Sister Carmen gave God thanks for another year of friendship, health, and prosperity.
Once the grace was complete, Sister Carmen smiled at Shari. “Good work on the article.”
“Thank you.” Shari returned Sister Carmen’s smile. “The deputies didn’t like it. They said they’ll never speak to me again.”
“Oh dear.” Sister Carmen looked troubled. “What are you going to do?”
Shari flicked a look toward Chris. “I’m going to meet with the deputies tomorrow to start building that bridge Chris recommended.”
“That’s a good idea.” Sister Lou’s tone was pensive. “We have less than two weeks until the congregation’s Advent retreat, but we haven’t made any progress on finding Autumn’s murderer. I think the investigation would go faster if we could persuade the deputies to partner with us.”
Sister Carmen sipped her beer. “What makes you think that?”
Sister Lou looked at her friend. “They have access to evidence and materials that could help unlock information on Autumn’s murder.”
Shari turned to Chris abruptly. “You’re a good friend. I wanted to say that before the moment passed.”
The look of surprise on his strong, angular features made the admission worthwhile. “Thank y
ou. What makes you say that?”
She should have known he wouldn’t take the comment at face value. “You didn’t tell me what I wanted to hear. You told me what I needed to hear. This isn’t just about getting along with people. It’s about my career.”
“We’ll go with you.” Sister Lou patted her forearm where it lay on the table beside her walnut brownie. “There’s strength in numbers.”
Shari had hoped they’d say that. “The deputies will probably appreciate the protection.”
Chapter 31
Shari couldn’t concentrate. At work Friday morning, she sat at her desk blindly staring at the same page of the four-page town council meeting memorandum for at least ten minutes. Questions bounced around her mind like a tennis ball. How would the sheriff’s deputies respond to her, Chris, and Sister Lou later that afternoon? Could she convince the deputies to work with her despite their angry exchange yesterday morning?
Her desk phone rang, pulling her out of her thoughts. Her caller identification revealed a Buffalo Today newspaper phone number. Curious. “Telegraph. Sharelle Henson.”
“Sharelle, it’s Becca Floyd, managing editor of Buffalo Today.” The familiar voice was jovial and energetic. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”
“Yes, I did. Did you?” Shari was still amazed at how wonderful it felt to have real friends with whom to celebrate the holidays.
“Your reporting keeps getting better and better.” Becca sounded excited. “Your Thanksgiving article on the Tassler murder case update was your best article yet.”
“Thank you.” She wouldn’t be human if she wasn’t flattered. She wouldn’t be Sharelle Henson if she wasn’t suspicious. Would the Buffalo Today managing editor call her every time she enjoyed one of her articles? Should she be offended if Becca didn’t call?
“That quote you got from the deputy was great, really strong.” Becca’s compliment seemed over the top.
“He didn’t think so.” Shari’s tone was dry. She checked the time on her computer monitor. It was just a few minutes after nine a.m.
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