by Morgana Best
“I’d better get going. It’s getting late,” Rosalind said.
“But you haven’t eaten,” Ursula pointed out.
Rosalind looked in the direction of the laundry room. “Early to bed, early to rise.” She hurried away, so I followed her to show her out.
When I returned, Isabel said, “Seriously. Thinking that Harrison ran a laundromat? Harrison?”
I slapped my forehead. “Money-laundering!” I said to Ursula and Isabel, who both nodded.
“It looks like we’ve all reached the same conclusion,” Ursula said. “Anyway, we can cross Rosalind off our suspects list, unless she’s a very good actress.”
“That only leaves the running nun,” I lamented, before hurrying to the laundry room to let out Pudding.
He hurried out and jumped on the table. “I thought I smelt a mouse. Any leftovers?”
I fed him some cat treats. “Be careful not to speak in front of that AVC agent.”
Pudding looked affronted. “I’m not stupid! I never speak in front of mundanes.”
Isabel finished her glass of wheatgrass juice. “Could Harrison have been a vampire or shifter? I mean, why is that agent so interested in his murder?”
“AVC agents do investigate mundane matters as a cover for their witch-hunting activities,” Ursula said. “I told you that already, Isabel.”
Pudding jumped on her lap. “Adeline fancies that agent.”
“I do not!” I said, a little too quickly.
Ursula and Isabel stared at me. “Are you crazy?” Isabel said. “He’d throw you in prison in a heartbeat if he knew what you are.”
I glared at Pudding. “I know that.”
Chapter Seven
I walked into my regular coffee shop to see Jackson seated at a table in the back corner, with two cups of coffee in front of him. As I approached, he looked up and smiled. “Thanks for joining me.”
I sat across from him. “Thanks for the coffee. Any leads?”
He shrugged. “It’s coming along,” he said, glancing down at his phone. “I think I’m onto something, but I’m still not sure. Have you heard of The Squad?”
Without waiting for me to answer, he continued. “They’re armed bank robbers and they target safe deposit boxes. They were finally caught, but all six of them remained tight-lipped about where the loot was stashed. They were all convicted and given lengthy sentences. They were on their way to Long Bay Maximum Security prison in Sydney when they somehow escaped.” Jackson paused and sipped from his cup.
I nodded. “Yes, it was all over TV at the time, A Current Affair, Sixty Minutes. So they were never caught, the second time I mean, after they escaped?”
Jackson shook his head. “No, they’re still at large. There’s been a nationwide manhunt for them since. My best sources brought me here, but I’ve run into a dead end.”
“Why did you come here looking for Harrison? What does he have to do with The Squad?”
Jackson frowned, and for a minute I thought he wouldn’t tell me. “I wanted to talk to Harrison because I thought he might be their fence.”
I gasped. “You think Harrison was selling the stolen jewellery for that gang?”
Jackson nodded. “Yes, but why would they kill their own fence?”
“Maybe Harrison cheated them, or something,” I suggested.
“Yes,” Jackson said. “That’s all that would make sense. Maybe he decided to skim some off the top for himself.”
I shook my head. “I never pictured Harrison as a criminal.”
Jackson shrugged. “You know, criminals usually look like normal people.”
My stomach clenched. Witches looked like normal people too. Did Jackson suspect me?
“Okay. So, what do we know for a fact?” Jackson continued. “We know Harrison was murdered, and I suspect he was their fence. At any rate, the cops haven’t found the gang, so they must have a very good hiding place.”
“This might sound farfetched,” I ventured, “but maybe the new nuns are sheltering them or something. Do nuns shelter criminals? I think they did in the olden days.”
“That doesn’t sound all that farfetched,” Jackson admitted. “To be honest, I was actually thinking the same thing. You saw a nun running from the pawnshop that morning, and during our visit to the convent, you saw a nun with hairy legs. I think the nuns aren’t what they seem to be.”
I was horrified. Did he suspect they were witches?
Jackson leant closer to me. “I think the nuns are men,” he whispered.
“Men?” I shrieked. I grimaced and lowered my voice. “You think the nuns are men? Not nuns, but men?” I asked, trying to take it all in.
Jackson nodded. “Think about it,” he said. “You saw a nun running from the scene. You saw a nun with hairy legs. Nuns’ habits are floor length; they certainly don’t show their calves. And it is strange that the Reverend Mother and the running nun were wearing shoes, considering their order is discalced.”
“But Sister Maria said that it was only in the old days.”
Jackson rubbed his chin. “Perhaps. But what if the novice nuns are actually The Squad members? A convent is the perfect place to hide out. That would explain why they’re wearing traditional habits, to disguise the fact that they’re men.”
I shook my head. “Do you really think a gang of notorious robbers would hide out in a convent and pretend to be nuns?”
Jackson took another sip of his coffee before shrugging.
“What about the Reverend Mother, though?” I persisted. “Wouldn’t she have noticed that the nuns are men?”
“She might be in on it. How would six convicted felons infiltrate a convent to hide out, without alerting the woman who’s in charge of it?”
I bit the tip of one fingernail. I couldn’t tell him Sister Maria had been genuinely surprised about Harrison’s murder without admitting I was a witch. “For all we know, Sister Maria mightn’t interact with the novice nuns much at all.”
Jackson frowned. “If you’re right, it means a helpless nun is in a convent with up to six hardened criminals.”
The thought sent chills down my spine. “Do you actually think they would harm a nun?”
“If they killed Harrison for crossing them, I don’t think they’re above doing anything to anyone,” Jackson said.
“Well, then whatever it is that we’re going to do next, we should probably do it soon.”
Chapter Eight
“Thanks for coming,” I said to Ursula and Isabel.
“So why the sudden get together?” Ursula asked me.
Pudding spoke. “Adeline wants you to stake out the convent. No pun intended.”
Ursula raised her eyebrows. “Pun?”
“Stake. Vampires. Get it?”
I shook my finger at Pudding. “Pudding, you promised you would let me tell them this time!”
His whiskers twitched. “I’m a cat. I lie.”
I shook my head. “As you know, I saw a nun running from the scene of Harrison’s murder, and then Jackson and I went to the convent and met the new head nun. She said Sister Bertrand has gone overseas on a pilgrimage, and then when I went to the bathroom, I saw a nun with very hairy legs.”
“Say what?” Ursula’s mouth fell open.
“Let me finish. And by the way, this is all top secret. This has to stay between the four of us. Jackson and I now think Harrison was the gang’s fence.”
Isabel gasped. “You can’t be serious.”
“What’s this ‘Jackson and I,’?” Ursula said, mimicking my voice. “You two seem to be a little too comfortable with each other. Have you forgotten he’s the enemy?”
“She sure has forgotten!” Pudding said, before pausing for a moment to lick his paw.
I ignored him. “And Jackson thinks the alleged new nuns at the convent are actually The Squad disguised as nuns.”
Ursula and Isabel looked at me as if I had completely taken leave of my senses.
I held up my fingers and tapped each
one as I continued. “One, I saw a nun fleeing the scene of Harrison’s murder. Two, I saw a nun with very hairy legs. Three, the fact that they are wearing traditional habits is suspicious in itself.”
“What are you planning to do, exactly?” Ursula asked. “Adeline, I’m a lawyer. I can’t help with any breaking and entering.”
“No, nothing like that. Not exactly.” I raised my hands and shook my head for emphasis. “I want to speak with the Reverend Mother while someone is watching the courtyard from the top of the hill.”
“What would that accomplish, though?”
“I really don’t know,” I admitted, “but it’s worth a shot. If one of you comes in with me, the other nuns might do something because they think Sister Maria is busy with guests, and one of you can be up on the hill looking into the walled courtyard with binoculars.”
“Oh come on, Ursula. It sounds harmless enough,” Isabel said. “You watch from the hill and I’ll go with Adeline to talk to the Reverend Mother.”
“Now, why would I be the one on the hill?” Ursula demanded. “I could make a donation to the convent. That would be a good cover.”
At first, Isabel looked as though if she wanted to argue with her. With a sigh of resignation, she said, “Okay, sure, whatever you want. Anyway, what brought on this sudden need to stake out nuns?”
“I’ve already explained…” I said, but I was interrupted.
Pudding made a choking noise and at first I thought he was trying to cough up a fur ball, but I realized it was a sound of disgust. “She’s trying to impress the hot eye candy,” he said. “Just be careful said eye candy doesn’t arrest you and the next thing you know we’re on our way to Tartarus Island. You should be hexing him, not crushing on him.”
Ursula and Isabel nodded agreement.
“There will be no hexes! And we’re supposed to be discussing a convent.” I didn’t want the attention focused on me and my love life, or lack thereof. I was attracted to Jackson. Still, that didn’t mean I forgot for a moment he was, indeed, my enemy.
Chapter Nine
We were in Ursula’s BMW speeding towards the convent. I was nervous, whereas Ursula and Isabel appeared to be excited. Isabel was less enthusiastic, however, when we took a detour down a tiny lane that ran to the base of the hill overlooking the convent.
“Watch the walled garden the whole time, and see what they do,” I said as Isabel hopped from the car, binoculars in hand. I watched as she extended her bat wings and flew to the top of the hill, scaring a flock of cockatoos and at least one goanna.
Ursula turned the car around, and soon we were back on the lonely road leading to the convent. “Now, what are we looking for exactly?” she asked me again.
I shook my head. “We’ve been over this a hundred times. I’m hoping the other nuns do something while the Reverend Mother is busy with us.”
Ursula grunted. “This is costing me a hundred dollars and it won’t be a tax deduction.”
“I’m sorry,” I said in a small voice.
Ursula shrugged and hurried off as fast as she could in her stilettos, while I walked after her.
A shiver ran up my spine as the ancient bell echoed. “It’s like being in a horror movie,” Ursula whispered.
The bell was followed by an alarm, the same sound I had heard on my previous visit to the convent.
Sister Maria duly opened the door. “Adeline Bloomwood,” she spat, unable to mask the look of distaste on her face.
A chill ran up my spine. I was certain I had introduced myself simply as ‘Adeline,’ no surname, on my last visit. “This is my friend, Ursula Incisore,” I said. “She would like to make a donation. Ursula, this is Sister Maria of, um, of…”
“Sister Maria of Saint Leonard,” she supplied, looking at Ursula. Her face lit up at the mention of the word donation. “Won’t you come in?”
Ursula made her way awkwardly over the uneven tiles, her stilettos catching every now and then. Just as we reached the reception room door, Ursula’s stiletto caught and she fell forward, throwing out her arms to save herself. In doing so, she knocked Sister Maria hard into the edge of the door.
“^%$#!” Sister Maria exclaimed.
I gasped and looked at Ursula.
“What did you say?” Ursula asked Sister Maria, who was visibly shaken.
“I said, Sheep!” Sister Maria said. “All we like sheep have gone astray, we have turned, every one, to his own way, and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.”
Ursula and I just stared at Sister Maria. “Yes,” Sister Maria continued, “your fall reminded me of a sheep that has gone astray.”
I had to give her marks for quick thinking, but I know what I heard and it certainly wasn’t sheep.
Sister Maria was still talking. “Please go in and take a seat. I’ll fetch tea.” She ushered us into the room, and then closed the door behind her.
“Did you hear what she said?” Ursula whispered.
“I sure did,” I said, “and it sure wasn’t sheep.”
Ursula pursed her lips. “I know.”
“Perhaps she’s not really a nun, either.”
Ursula shrugged. “Nuns are only human.”
“Not that human,” I said. “Besides, when I was here with Jackson, he said the head nun should call for another nun to bring the tea, but Sister Maria herself did it last time and she’s doing it again now. That’s not standard procedure. Also, Jackson said that the nuns always bake the cakes themselves, but last time, it was Tim Tams.”
Ursula beamed. “Tim Tams!”
I let out a sigh of frustration. “Concentrate, Ursula, seriously.”
The door opened and Sister Maria entered, carrying a tray. She set it down on the round table in front of us. I shot Ursula a significant look and wiggled my eyebrows when I saw the plate of Tim Tams.
Ursula rummaged in her bag and fished out one hundred dollars in cash. She handed it to Sister Maria. “Just a small donation,” she said.
Sister Maria appeared genuinely grateful. “Thank you so much. You do realize that we are not a registered charity in Australia,” she said, “so it will not be a tax deduction.”
“Yes, I realize that all too well,” Ursula said with a sigh, “or I would’ve given you more.”
I rolled my eyes.
“I’ll write you a receipt,” Sister Maria stood up.
Ursula waved her back down. “No, please don’t trouble yourself. A receipt is no use to me.”
Sister Maria offered a tight-lipped smile. “It’s very kind of you.”
I nibbled on a Tim Tam, uneasy in the ensuing silence. The longer we gave Isabel, the better. After a few minutes of discussing the ongoing drought and the weather forecast, Ursula stood up. “Thank you for your hospitality, Sister Maria. We’d better be going. I just came to make the donation.”
Sister Maria followed us to the door, keeping her distance this time as Ursula made her way carefully over the uneven, tiled floor. It was with apparent relief that Sister Maria shut the heavy oak doors behind us.
Before we reached the car, the alarm sounded again.
Once we were safely in the car, I turned to Ursula. “Why did you get out of there so fast?” I asked her. “We needed to give Isabel as much time as we could.”
Ursula pouted at me. “There is only so much inconsequential small talk one can make. Besides, I was afraid she’d ask me why I made the donation, and then I’d have needed to come up with a likely reason on the spot.”
I had to agree.
“Did you smell the mothballs? She must keep her dress in mothballs.”
“It’s a habit,” I said.
“Bad habits can be broken,” Ursula said with a smirk as she started the engine.
I rolled my eyes and texted Isabel. Coming to get you now.
By the time we arrived at the bottom of the hill, Isabel was waiting for us, her face flushed. She scrambled into the car, and Ursula floored it, the acceleration throwing me back against my seat
. I turned to look in the back seat. “You saw something?”
“Yes!” Isabel exclaimed. “You’ll never guess what!” She leant forward. “There was no one in the courtyard at first, but then, six nuns came out.”
I interrupted her. “What did they do?”
Isabel motioned for me to be quiet. “They all sat around a table, and they were all smoking. Some of them had their legs up on the table.”
Chapter Ten
Jackson was standing on my doorstep. “I was up all night. I spent all night and most of the day making notes and trying to figure out what I’m missing. I’ve come to the conclusion Sister Maria must know that the nuns are the bank robbers.”
I breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t here to arrest me, and motioned him to follow me into the back room. I had already hidden all my herbs and potions along with my grimoire in a cupboard upstairs. “Two friends of mine went with me to the convent yesterday to see if we could find some evidence.”
Jackson’s eyes widened. “Did you find anything?”
“The Reverend Mother fell over during our visit and swore aloud but then tried to cover it up.”
“That’s unusual.”
I shot a warning look at Pudding, who was sitting in the doorway, studying Jackson. “And that’s not all,” I said. “Ursula, my lawyer friend, came with me into the convent, and I’d sent my other friend, Isabel, with binoculars up the hill overlooking the walled enclosure. She saw six nuns sitting around a table. Some of the nuns had their legs up on the table, and they were all smoking.”
“How did your friend climb that hill? It’s practically a cliff face.”
“She’s a health fanatic,” I said quickly.
Jackson looked confused but thankfully did not pursue the matter. “Well, some nuns do smoke, but it is strange that they had their legs up on the table. They do sound like men rather than nuns. Also, it’s strange that the Reverend Mother swore.”
“Coffee?” My Nespresso machine had heated up.