Chapter 16

Sister Alice waltzed through the door just as I’d come from checking on Tony and Sister Eunice. Tony had been getting ready to leave, and Sister Eunice was all but pushing him out the door so she could work without Tony lurching over her shoulder. 

“How’s the apprentice doing?” Sister Alice asked. 

“Itching to get rid of her supervisor. I got an application today for a sous-chef. Sounds too good to be true.”

“Then it probably is.” She glanced around the room. “Where’s Aspen?” 

“Roaming. Pursuing the attention he hasn’t gotten from me today. Or yesterday.”

“Why’d you want me to come here instead of meeting at the coffee shop? You need a ride?”

I snorted. “That’d be a hard no.” I crooked my finger so she’d follow me to the office. “I want your input on something. I could have brought it with me into town, I guess.”

“Define ‘it,’” she said.

I glanced back toward her as we reached my office door. “I pulled together all the information we have so far—suspects, motive, opportunity, you name it.”

She parked herself in the chair, and I settled in the chair behind my desk. I pushed the notebook toward her. “I love those teal frames, by the way. Why’d you changed from the orange?”

She pushed them up with her pointer finger and smiled. “Because I could.”

“You have more eyewear than I have underwear.”

She looked at me over the teal rims. “You best get some more underwear.” She studied the list before tossing it across the desk toward me. “Good work, Grasshopper. Organization is your strong suit.” She sat back. “Keeping my mouth shut is mine. Not.”

I chuckled and tilted my head. “Welcome to my world. What’d you do now?”

“Father Vincent called me into his office for a chat today.”

“And?”

“He wasn’t happy when I asked him about Deacon Molotov. And less so when I didn’t stop asking.” 

“That’s why he wanted to chat? How did he know about it?”

Sister Alice shook her head and waved her hand in dismissal. “Nah. The why has nothing to do with this case and everything to do with Sister Ida. She wants Father Vincent to mediate our differences.”

“What did you do to Sister Ida?”

“Nothing. And that’s the truth.”

“Right,” I said, striving to keep a straight face. “That’s why she wants Father Vincent to mediate. Because you didn’t do anything.”

She looked at me, her lips pressed together. “It’s the truth. I missed prayer group twice.”

“And here you said you’d done nothing. Why’d you miss?”

“Once I got called into work at the hospital.”

“And the other?”

“What are you, in cahoots with Sister Ida?” she asked, looking at me over the rim of her glasses again before standing. “I might have been caught up with helping you here at the inn. That presented the perfect opportunity to bring up Luka to Father Vincent. So I did.”

“What did he say about him?” I caught my reflection in the window, my frizzed red curls wild. Slipping a hair elastic from my wrist, I whipped the mess into a ponytail. 

“Nothing helpful. But he gave sage advice about not ruining lives by falsely accusing someone. It is a valid point, you know. I bet we could look at any of the people on this list,” she nodded to the notebook on the desk, “and find something to make them appear guilty. We need to gather all the information carefully to assure the evidence fits the person instead of forcing the person to fit the evidence.”

I sighed and stretched my arms above my head as I stood and led the way to the door. “I know.” As I pulled it closed behind us, I said, “That same book was lying on a table in the library again earlier. Along with another one about an unlikely suspect. Maybe the ghost is telling us something about Luka.”

“Ha,” Sister Ida exclaimed. “Sounds to me like you’ve become a believer in ghosts.”

I smiled. “Maybe. The verdict’s not in yet.”

“Don’t look so hard to find something that you see what’s not there, Grasshopper. The ghost isn’t interested in trivial matters.”

“How do you know that? Does it talk to you?”

“Everyone knows ghosts don’t talk,” she scoffed. “I’m simply realistic. Please tell me you didn’t re-shelve the books again. You’re only making more work for the poor person trying to read it.”

“I didn’t. I left both of them where they were.”

When we passed the front desk, Lily and Jade were deep in conversation. Both stopped when we arrived. 

“I like your sweater, Jade. It’s festive,” Sister Alice said. “And appropriate.”

Jade scowled at Sister Alice, obviously not forgiving her for her last comment about her wardrobe. 

“We have to run into town,” I told them. “Either of you need anything?” 

“Have you heard any more from that detective, Andie Rose?” Lily asked.

“Not yet.”

“Does he still think it’s one of us?” Jade asked.

I shook my head. “I don’t know. But I’ll let you know when I do.”

“I’m riding with Andie Rose,” Sister Alice called over her shoulder. “Don’t let Sister Eunice take my moped.”

“Like she’s going to hot wire the thing or what? You keep the key in your bra.” 

“At least I wear one,” she said, just loud enough for Jade to hear.

I elbowed her, and after closing the door behind us, I said, “You know that bit you said about not keeping your mouth shut was your strength? Yeah,” I said without waiting for her to answer, “you need to find a different one.”

She grinned. “Just because I’m a sister doesn’t mean I’m perfect.”

“Wonders never cease,” I teased as we strode to my car. “Come on. We need to find the murderer before Detective Griffin arrests someone from the inn.”

“Any news from Brad yet?” she asked.

“No, but I—” My phone rang, and I slipped it from my pocket and looked at the display. “Creepy,” I said. “It’s Brad. It’s like he heard you asking about him.” I pushed the button on my phone. “Hi, Brad.”

“What the hell, Andie Rose?” 

Again? I jerked the phone away and took a moment and a breath before putting it back to my ear. “Let’s try this again, Brad, starting with, at the very least, a hello.”

“Hi,” he grumbled. “Detective Griffin called me asking a bunch of questions.”

My curiosity spiked; my breath hitched. “Like what?” 

“Like about the altercation you had with the murder victim and how I felt about it.”

“Did you tell him you didn’t feel anything at all?” As soon as the question tumbled from my lips, I realized the tricky spot I’d put him in. I knew full well it hadn’t bothered him, but if he admitted that to Detective Griffin, he’d look like the worst boyfriend ever. If he admitted he was torqued about it, he would look guilty.

“How can you even ask that?” he said, skirting around an impossible answer.

“I just meant that it hadn’t bothered you, so—”

“It was a harmless spat, honey. It’s not like it was dangerous.”

His downplay of the incident raised my ire. “Wow,” was all I could spit out.

“Can we talk about something a little more pleasant?”

The distinct sound of cracking knuckles traveled through the airwaves. It was a habit when he was either annoyed or uneasy about something. And it was one of the most emotional signs he displayed.

“What did you have in mind?” I asked, still a little miffed. Unlike Brad, I didn’t have difficulty expressing my emotions. Not much ruffled my feathers, but when it did—well, let’s just say people knew about it.

“Have you decided about my proposal? It’d sure be nice to put all of this behind us, get you out of that town to where it’s safer. I want us to get married.”

I sighed and looked at Sister Alice, who’d already gotten into the passenger side of the car. Aspen, albeit reluctantly, crawled into the back seat. “I believe you, Brad. That you want to be married. But not necessarily to me. And it seems like you want to get married for reasons that feel wrong to me.”

“What’s wrong with wanting to start a family? Andie Rose, we’ve been dating for over five years.”

He didn’t get it. In fact, during the past six months, perhaps longer, I wouldn’t even call what we were doing dating. I looked at Sister Alice and Aspen again. Knowing it would turn into a debacle and an argument if I told him my answer—again—at this moment, I said, “We’ll have to talk about this later. I was just leaving with Sister Alice.”

There was a pause. “Sure. How about this evening?”

“Okay. Hey, Brad?” I said, hoping to catch him before he hung up. 

“Yeah?”

“No accusations or judgement here, I promise. But I’m curious where you went after leaving the pub that night?” Silence, then more knuckle cracking. “Hello?” 

“I’m here.”

There was another, longer pause, and I thought he’d hung up.

“I did not kill that guy, Andie Rose. Why would I do that? You say no accusations, but that’s exactly what it was.”

I admit shame fell on me, landing me as the worst girlfriend ever. Ex-girlfriend. I’d devised a new variation of breaking up. I cautioned my coaching clients not to use the overused, It’s not you, it’s me, because it skirted around the truth. Suspecting a partner of murder isn’t what I’d suggest either, and it wasn’t one of my prouder moments. I rolled my eyes, exhaled, and rubbed my temples with my thumb and middle finger. “Sorry. I’m just desperate to find out who killed Ivan, so my staff and I can get back to business without this hanging over us.”

There it was again, the telltale knuckle cracking. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you, except it wasn’t me.” And then the line went dead. His voice had been so sharp, it probably cut the phone line.

I glanced at Aspen before getting in the car, but he refused to look at me—punishment for backseat treatment. I sighed and slammed my door.

“Are Aspen and I safe with you behind the wheel right now?” Sister Alice asked, looking at me sideways. “Maybe we should take my moped.”

“And what, Aspen can sit on my lap in the sidecar?” Although, when I glanced behind me to find him staring at me with the most pathetic and accusatory look, I thought he might prefer the sidecar. I sighed and rubbed the nape of my neck.

“What bit you in the butt?” Sister Alice asked.

I exhaled slowly before speaking. “That was Brad.”

“Obviously. What happened?”

“He’s mad because Detective Griffin asked him a bunch of questions about the pub the night someone killed Ivan.”

“And?”

“And then I asked him where he went that night after he left Brewski’s.”

Sister Alice looked out the windshield. “Ah. And he didn’t like you questioning him.”

I looked at her. “Would you?”

“He didn’t seem to have a problem questioning you. Did you give him an answer to his proposal since he didn’t want to hear it the first time?”

I turned the key in the ignition and began backing out of my parking space. “I didn’t feel like getting into an argument. We’re going to talk tonight.”

“Seems like your plan didn’t work. There was an argument anyway. Just shoot it and kill it already, for goodness’ sakes.”

Instead, I let my eyes do the talking and shot her a killer look.

The short drive into town was silent—I stewed, Aspen pouted, and Sister Alice remained cleverly cautious.

We got lucky with a parking space on the street in front of the door of Hallowed Grounds. Aspen hopped out right after me, and Sister Alice shut her door and came around the car. I opened the coffee shop door and held it for her, noticing for the first time that her eyeglass frames matched her teal and black jacket. Her white hair stood out, reminding me of meringue on a pie.

The smell of freshly roasted coffee beans met us at the door, a scent I never tired of and one of my favorites in the world. 

I looked around at the packed tables in the coffee shop, noticing a man and woman from the inn. I waved at them, called out a “hello,” and then looked at the barista behind the autumn-decorated counter. Definitely not Roman. She had long black hair tied in a ponytail and coal-black eyelashes that looked an inch long. I instinctively scrunched my nose and touched one of my eyes. I’d tried lash extensions once and took them off the same day. I was used to wearing heavy mascara, but with the last extensions, every time I blinked, I thought my eyelids might fall off. They weren’t for me. Unlike the dragonfly tat on my shoulder. Most of the time, I forgot it was even there; to be honest, I couldn’t remember getting it in one of my drunken stupors. The price of sobriety—I actually felt things. Even if I didn’t want to.

“Is Roman working?” Sister Alice asked the barista.

The girl grinned and stood straighter, as if her teacher had caught her cheating. “Hi, Sister. Roman’s working today, but he left on a break with a buddy. He’ll be back in about an hour.”

“Wow, that’s a long break,” I said. 

She smiled and looked at Sister Alice, her cheeks turning carnation pink. “Yeah. He just left. We kinda take longer breaks when the boss isn’t here.”

Sister Alice patted her hand. “No need to explain to me, dear. I’m not your boss. But remember, I have a direct connection to the Man upstairs.”

“Sister Alice,” I scolded, and she tittered. 

“I’m teasing, Tara,” she told the girl. “Say hi to your mom for me.” She turned to me and said, “Let’s take a stroll down Spirit Lane and enjoy the fall weather and the decorations. Maybe we’ll run into Mike Swanson or Ella.” 

“Can I at least get you a coffee?” Tara asked. The last word ended an octave higher, causing me to rock onto my tiptoes and back down.

After assuring her we’d be back in an hour and get one then, we turned and left.

“She’s a sprightly young thing,” I said. Sister Alice only smiled. “Why does it seem like there’s a story between the two of you?”

Aspen stayed against my leg as if to remind me he should ride shotgun when we got back in the car. I reached down and scratched his head. When the door closed behind us, I asked Sister Alice, “Why did you say that to her?”

Her eyes widened behind the frames. “About the direct connection?” she asked. “I told her I was kidding.”

“Right before you told her to say hi to her mom. Passive-aggressive much?”

Sister Alice shot me a devilish smile. “Tara and I have…let’s just say we have an understanding.” I stopped, tipped my chin down and looked at her, and she went on. “I caught her and Billy, a boy from her catechism class, together in the alley. Let’s just say they weren’t studying the faith.”

My jaw dropped open. “And you’re holding that above her head? That’s cruel.”

She turned toward me with wide eyes. “I’m not holding anything above her head. I agreed to keep quiet about it, but reminded her that God sees everything. Since then, she seems to get nervous around me and eager to please. I can’t figure it out.”

I rolled my eyes and scoffed. “I wonder why.” I shook my head and reached for Aspen, ruffling his fur. “Good Lord.” 

“Hey,” she said and winked. “I may have prevented a pregnancy.”