Chloe Babineaux Private Investigator

by Lisa Clancey

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  I parked in the parking lot of Our Lady of Hope. There were quite a few cars and trucks in the parking lot. Sunday was the day the nuns that took a vow of silence could talk. So I guess those that could only talk on Sundays were having a good gabfest today.

  I opened the door of my truck, and my cell phone rang. Cody was calling me. He’d probably give me a lecture about safety. You would think he would get tired of lecturing me, but he doesn’t. He was like that bunny. He just went on and on and...

  “Hey, Cody.”

  “Hey, have you talked to Sister Bonita?”

  “No, I just got here. I overslept.” I could hear laughter in the background. “Where are you?”

  “We’re at Morgan’s parents’ house. Her sister and brother are here too.”

  “Wow, sounds like a party. The kids must be feeling better.” I was glad I wasn’t home. Morgan and Cody couldn’t call me and ask me to go to one of her family gatherings.

  “Yeah, they do. Why don’t you meet me here later?” Cody said with laughter in his voice. He knew I didn’t like going.

  “Yeah. Not gonna happen. You know her parents don’t like me. The last time I was over there her father said to me, ‘You know, just because you’re twins, doesn’t mean you have to go everywhere Cody goes.’”

  Morgan’s father had waited until Cody had walked off before saying it. I thought about tearing into him. But really, the only reason I was there was because Cody said there would be alcohol. It was some sort of rum concoction. I could have easily gotten drunk. I may have. But as far as I know, I didn’t have sex with any of her eligible cousins.

  “He was only joking, Chloe,” Cody said, sounding miffed.

  “Are you that bored Cody? You need a little excitement over there? You want me to tear it up with an in-law or two?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Nah, I’m not that bored,” he laughed. “Maybe later, though. Call me.”

  “Will do. Bye.”

  As he was saying bye my phone beeped for another call. Great. Rick was calling. I’d never get out of this truck. I was hoping to put him off for a while longer, but if I didn’t answer, he’d call Cody and ask if he’d heard from me. I couldn’t have that. Cody was in a good mood. Why ruin it for him?

  “Hello,” I answered blandly.

  “Hey. Have you talked to Sister Bonita?” No, and at this rate, I never will.

  “No. I just got here, and Cody just called and asked me the same thing.”

  “I thought you were leaving early,” he said in a way that sounded accusing. What the hell does he think I did last night? Does he think I partied after telling him ‘love you?’ I wish I had been partying. Then I could have blamed it on alcohol. No. Then he would say I meant it because the truth comes out while drinking. I was over thinking this. I had work to do.

  “I was leaving early. But I couldn’t sleep last night, so I overslept.” Now I was miffed.

  “I couldn’t either. A woman I was talking to on the phone hung up on me.” Good. He was miffed, as well, but why does he keep talking about me in the third person?

  “You can’t trust women. They’re all so fickle. I really have to go. I have a nun to talk to about a painting. This isn’t the same thing as having to talk to a man about a horse, although, I did drink a lot of coffee this morning.”

  “Okay,” he laughed. “But call me when you’re on your way home so I can meet you at your apartment.” He didn’t sound miffed anymore. I liked it more when he was miffed.

  “Bye.” I disconnected without saying I would call him. That way I could always say I didn’t hear him say that. You know, bad service up here in nun land.

  I walked to the front door and rang the bell. It was opened by a different nun this time. I thought so anyway. This one was also young, with big brown eyes. But I couldn’t remember what color eyes the first guard nun had.

  I asked for Sister Bonita but was told she had her family with her, so I asked the guard to give her a note. I waited a few minutes and then got a response.

  “Could you follow me?” Another nun asked. This one was middle-aged and scary. She glared and scowled. I really didn’t think she recognized me from that one time I was here. Oh, crap. Was this the nun who caught me on the roof? Who knew? I mean, she could have been mad because I interrupted her karaoke.

  I followed her to an atrium. It was bright with wonderful plants all around. Some of the plants were blooming so they must have been forced into bloom. I liked this room.

  Sister Bonita was clipping dead leaves off a ficus tree. Wow, it was a real ficus. I didn’t know if I have ever seen a ficus that wasn’t plastic. She turned to me and smiled. I was glad I wore a black skirt that came a few inches above my knee, a red sweater with a white blouse underneath and black dress boots. I looked nice without looking overdressed. But more importantly, I wasn’t dressed like a nun.

  “I’m glad you could talk to me,” I said, holding out my hand to shake hers.

  She took my hand in both of hers and said in a husky voice. I guess since she doesn’t talk much her vocal cards get sort of rusty. “Your note was interesting.”

  I had written, ‘I know the truth. Please talk to me. Chloe Babineaux.’

  “I want to tell you how sorry I am about your brother and nephew,” I said.

  “Thank you. And now you know why I don’t want you going after the painting,” she said unblinkingly with direct eye contact.

   “T-Jake’s wife told me about the threats Petunia was getting.” I looked down at the floor and said, “Sandy is very sweet. She doesn’t blame me.”

  “She is very sweet. There is no need to blame yourself. Whoever is doing this, started this craziness before Petunia asked you to find the painting,” she said using her fingers to lift my head up.

  We looked at each other for a few seconds, I shook my head and said, “You know, for a while, I considered the frame of the painting had to be gilded, and that’s why it was valuable. Then I thought maybe it was a nude painting. But the nudist would have to be very old or dead even. If it was me and I was that old, I would have hung that thing over my mantle. Pre-sag era.” Sister Bonita laughed. “And then I thought maybe it was a couple. Someone painted a couple in a compromising position, and someone was using it to blackmail. Again the couple would be very old or dead unless the offspring of said couple didn’t want it out.”

  Sister Bonita smiled as I said each suggestion. I knew none of those were right. I just wanted to see what she would say. She said nothing. She was very good at that.

  “No. Petunia and you said it was a painting of an old house and barn. The original house and barn are still standing in Shloe. So that’s what it is. The painting is a representation. It’s a map showing where something is hidden. All you have to do is study it.” Sister Bonita lost her smile, and her eyes grew large.

  “You have the painting. You either have it, or you know exactly where it is,” I said hard. She slowly shook her head.

  “Sister Bonita, listen to me. Someone is out there shooting people. I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. Clearly, this isn’t a person to take lightly. I don’t want this person to hurt your family.” I took several deep breaths. I didn’t want to shout at her. But I did want to throttle her.

  “Let me see the painting. I won’t take it. You can keep it hidden. All I want to do is take a photo of it. Let me compare it to the original house and barn,” I smiled and added. “I know I can do this. And whatever I find is Petunias. All I want is to be paid my private investigating fee.”

   “Petunia and her family are here now. Come back in an hour,” she said and walked out the room.