Nun of That (A Deadly Habit Cozy Mystery, Book 1) (6 page)

Chapter Nine
.

The following morning, I met Adam outside my furniture store just after ten. Our plan was to visit the Phillips & Sons auction house to see if the staff would be willing to discuss any recent dealings between the nun and the auction house. I had no idea if the staff would be so forthcoming, but until Adam and I could find some tangible evidence, I knew that the cops would just laugh at me again.

Adam offered to drive, so I jumped into his Jeep and we headed north to the auction house. “So, how well do you know them? Do you think they’ll be willing to tell us why a nun was hanging around the establishment?” Adam asked.

I shrugged. I’d been going to the auctions for quite a while, but I didn’t know the staff too well - on the occasions that I had talked to them, most hadn't been especially friendly towards me, though there were a few exceptions. “It’s possible. I’m still a bit irritated that the police didn’t take me seriously when I told them that I’d seen a nun running away from Dave’s that morning.”

Adam looked over at me and frowned. “I’ve never laughed at you, have I?”

I smiled and shook my head.

“I believe you, and that’s what matters. With any luck, we can get some information that we can take to the police.” He smiled and glanced at me once more. “Either way, I think we’re on the right track with this, so even if you do get laughed at again, we can have the last laugh when this case is solved.”

I was encouraged by his words. “Thanks. I suppose you’re right. I just hope that if we’re right about this whole thing, no harm comes to the Reverend Mother. I’ve been worried all night thinking about that poor woman being in danger.”

“Hey, don’t be so worried,” Adam said, as he overtook a small car doing half the speed limit. “She’s been fine so far, so I think we need to just keep our minds clear and focused. If the police are more likely to laugh off actual leads than to follow them, then we’re the only ones that can stop those guys.”

“You really think a journalist and an upcycled furniture store owner can make a good enough team to take down a notorious gang of robbers?” It sounded more like the synopsis of a summer blockbuster than reality, but it was all actually happening. I turned toward Adam and sighed. “This is all so surreal.”

“Yes, it is, but that’s the world we live in nowadays.” Adam’s tone was solemn. “Society has become a little intoxicated with the idea of freedom; many people use those very freedoms that they’ve been afforded to deny others their own rights. That’s why this story is so important to me. I want to make a difference, as clichéd as that might sound.”

I smiled, but did not respond. I looked out the passenger window to see the trees zipping by in a blur as the car sped onward. The light blue sky appeared to be the backdrop to an enormous mountain of soft, fluffy clouds that slowly drifted in the distance. The contrast between the crawling clouds and the fast-moving trees was mesmerizing.

Adam pulled his car into the nearly empty parking lot, and we wasted no time heading inside. I led the way. “I know a few of the staff by name and have spoken to them a bit, but the only one who can probably help us is the manager, Mark Cornford.”

“I just hope we can get something out of them,” Adam said. “I suppose it’s illegal to give out a client’s information without permission.”

“Oh, dear, I’m sure you’re right.” I sighed.

“If you aren’t buying something at an auction, wouldn’t that imply that you were selling something instead?” asked Adam.

I hadn’t thought about it that way, but now that I did, I felt like a right idiot for not realizing it sooner. It was so obvious. At any rate, there was nothing else to do now but to push on. I continued toward the manager’s office in the back of the building. When we turned the corner, I saw a few of the staff unenthusiastically unpacking some items. “Let’s go ask them if the manager’s in.”

As we walked toward the workers, I heard Mark Cornford’s voice. “Excuse me? Is there anything I can help you two with?”

I turned. “Hi, Mark. I’m sorry to be wandering around back here, but we were just hoping to talk to you.”

“Ah, hello, Rose.” Mark smiled. “Who’s your friend?” he asked, looking over at Adam.

Adam and Mark shook hands. “My name’s Adam Bowen. I’m a journalist writing a book about crime. Rose recently attended one of your auctions, and we’d like to ask you a few questions about one of your patrons,” he said.

Mark frowned. “I’m sorry, but it’s against our policies to disclose such information.”

Adam crossed his arms over his chest. “Look, we’re just trying to find out what’s going on. If you can’t help us, the police are going to have to get involved. Do you really want them milling around your business for days? I know how much red tape and paperwork is involved with selling secondhand goods.”

The manager looked somewhat agitated. “Okay, follow me to my office; we can talk about it there.” He led us down a long corridor.

When we reached his office, Mark gestured to two chairs behind his desk, and he himself took a seat. “You say you’re familiar with the red tape involved with selling secondhand goods, so you must know that we receive extensive paperwork on all stolen goods. We have to check those lists before we sell anything here. Secondhand dealers and auction houses have to be so careful with selling stolen goods, so if that’s what you’re going to ask about, I really doubt there can be any substance to such claims. We always go through all the appropriate channels and none of the merchandise we’ve sold recently has ever been listed as stolen.”

“Sure,” I said, “but it’s not about that. There was a nun at your last auction. We just need to know who that nun was, and what she was doing here, if you don’t mind telling us.”

“Nun?” Mark said. “You want to know about a nun?” His jaw fell open.

“If you could possibly tell us if a nun from the Sisters of Temperance convent sold any items here at the last auction, it would be a wonderful help,” Adam said.

Mark frowned for a while, and I doubted he would help us, but he finally punched some keys into his computer. “Sister Bertrand of the Sisters of Temperance convent sold six 18 karat gold chains, all without insurance certificates or valuation certificates,” he said. “Now, you didn’t hear this from me. I’m only telling you because Rose is a good, long term customer. Understood?”

“Yes, thank you so much, Mark,” I said gratefully.

Adam stood up. “Okay, thanks. That’s all the information we were looking for.” Adam extended his hand to Mark.

“May I ask how that information helps with your investigation?” Mark asked as they shook hands.

“It confirms our suspicions, but that’s all I can really say,” Adam said.

I thanked Mark again, and we walked back to Adam’s Jeep.

Adam spoke as soon as we were in the Jeep. “Now that we know this, it’s very likely that the nuns are indeed part of the gang, so we should probably go directly to the police.”

“So you really think that the nun was just one of the robbers in disguise, selling items through auction? And if they’re using Sister Bertrand’s name, where is the real Sister Bertrand?” I asked.

“I don’t know if it’s a good idea to jump to conclusions,” Adam said, “but I can’t honestly say it looks very good. There’s a chance they had to do away with her somehow.”

“Do away with?” I gasped. “Surely you don’t think that they…” My voice trailed away.

Adam glanced at me briefly, but then returned his eyes to the road. “I think if they were willing to hurt Dave to get their way, it is unlikely that they would stop there. I’ve said it before, and it’s always true. People won’t stop until they get what they’re after.”

I sighed. “So, is the police station our next stop?”

“Yes, but I’ll do most of the talking, if you’d prefer,” he said.

After arriving at the police station, we walked inside to see a heavy-set officer sitting behind an old desk that was covered with papers. I knew the officer as Constable Jones, one of the two officers who had interviewed me after Dave’s death. “Good afternoon, how may I help you?” he asked.

“Hi,” Adam began. “I’m a journalist in town writing a book about the Shadow Gang. I believe they’re hiding in the local convent.”

The officer stared straight at him without blinking for nearly a minute. I was perplexed, but I couldn’t imagine what Adam was thinking during that long stare down. Suddenly, the man burst out laughing and turned back to yell, “Hey Sergeant! Get over here. You have to hear this.”

Sergeant Barnes walked up to greet us at the front desk. “Hello, Rose Taylor, isn’t it?” he said. “I remember talking to you recently about Dave Jameson’s unfortunate death. May I ask what you and your friend just told my fellow officer that made him laugh so rudely?”

The other cop’s expression changed, and he stopped smiling.

“This is my friend, Adam Bowen, a journalist,” I said to Sergeant Barnes.

Barnes nodded at Adam. “How can I help you?”

“I’m writing a book about the Shadow Gang.”

Sergeant Barnes kept nodding.

“Well, I think that they might be hiding somewhere close,” Adam said. “We think that they’re somehow linked to the nuns at the convent. In fact, we think the bank robbers are disguising themselves as nuns.”

Sergeant Barnes threw back his shoulders and narrowed his eyes. “Okay, I’m trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but are you guys hearing yourselves? First, she says that she saw a nun running away from a murder scene, and now you think that the gang members are posing as nuns? Nuns always have a Reverend Mother or someone in charge. Wouldn’t she know if she had criminals staying under her roof? Or are you implying that she’s in on it?”

“No,” Adam said. “However, one of the new nuns used Sister Bertrand’s name to auction off six gold chains recently.”

Barnes shifted from one foot to the other. “Let
us
investigate any crimes or concerns that might arise. If we find any evidence of bank robbers posing as nuns, then we will arrest them.” He crossed his arms and glared at us, while Constable Jones twittered behind his hand.

As Adam and I left the small police station, we could hear loud laughter behind us, and I shuddered angrily.

Chapter Ten
.

Gemma had a very comfortable home, which she was always redecorating to suit her mood. One of the perks of her trade was having the money to redecorate at any time - another perk was her ability to make me intensely jealous on occasion, though this particular instance hadn't left much to be desired. This time, she had a nostalgic seventies theme, complete with lava lamps and beaded curtains.

And just like in the courtroom, Gemma had left no detail undone.

I leaned over to study the exotic fish tank. The creatures seemed completely indifferent to the neon plastic plants and the giant multi-colored peace sign that had found its way into their home. Then again, they probably saw it as an improvement. Last month Gemma was into an Asian theme, and their tank was invaded by a sushi cutting board, a menu background, and a hungry looking statue. Neon wasn't so bad in comparison.

“I'm sorry that I'm not better prepared for company,” Gemma said apologetically as she arranged the boxes and disposable tubs over the counter. “If I knew we were meeting tonight, I'd have made, well, okay, who are we kidding? I'm just not into the Domestic Diva thing. It would’ve been something from a bag. We all know it.”

She chuckled and spooned the re-fried beans into a bright yellow bowl with a classic smiley face grinning on it.

I smiled as I helped sort through the food. “I'm just grateful you guys could make time. Thank you again.”

“So why the sudden get together?” Gemma asked.

I shook my head as I unwrapped the tacos and stacked them on a plate. “I'll tell you and Janet at the same time. It's going to take a little while to tell the whole thing. Janet should be here soon.”

Gemma sighed and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling, “I can't wait.”

“Be nice,” I chuckled.

“I have been nice. She hasn't been thrown off a balcony - yet.” Gemma’s tone was amused, but I knew there was more than an element of truth to her words. “But I can wait until she gets here. As long as it’s not about that handsome reporter you've been tailing. You aren't eloping, are you?”

I turned red as Gemma gave me an exaggerated, worried expression. “No. We have to wait until sunset, so he can get on his white horse and take me to his castle on it," I said, trying my best to deflect her attention.

Gemma laughed and shook her head. “Oh, the look on your face. You must have it bad, Rose-dear. Please say you guys have at least gone out for coffee or something. If he hasn't invited you for coffee, I’ll find a balcony to throw him off.”

“What is it with you and balconies this evening?” I asked, just as the doorbell rang.

“I’ve been listening to a news story about this balcony thing. Wish I was representing in that one. Balconies leave lots of room for reasonable doubt,” Gemma explained as she crossed the room to open the door. There stood Janet with a casserole-sized, Tupperware dish balanced between her hands. Gemma plastered on a big, welcoming smile. “Oh well, speak of the devil, and here she’s come a-knocking.”

“Goodness gracious, Gemma. What in the world did you do?” Janet demanded, as her eyes darted around the living room.

“You like it?” Gemma asked with exaggerated graciousness. “I was thinking about black lights and a disco ball, but it just seemed like they would clash with the lava lamps. What do you think?”

“Oh, I agree. We all know how you like, um, subtle decorating.” Janet nodded her head toward a vintage, plastic, hula girl lamp.

“I know, right?” Gemma took the Tupperware container from Janet. “Why don't you get comfortable, so Rose can tell us what this special meeting is about? It was so nice of you to bring something. What is it?”

“I know you’re cooking impaired, and there aren't many places in town to buy a good, healthy meal. So I just threw something together.” Janet’s tone was cheerful. “Rose, you really must try this pumpkin meatloaf.”

“A what?” Gemma asked, as she did a slow head turn.

“A pumpkin meatloaf.” Janet’s tone was matter of fact.

“Is there any actual meat in the meatloaf?” Gemma eyeballed the woman, who gave her a very annoyed, patronizing look in return.

“Of course, or it wouldn't be a
meatloaf
.”

Gemma opened a small corner of the Tupperware. “What kind of meat?”

“Free range wild turkey, with gizzards.”

“You are a sick puppy,” Gemma said, closing the bowl. “Come eat something normal for a change. You might actually like it. I was even nice and bought Mexican. You've been going on about how wonderful Mexican is, right?”

Janet sighed loudly and dramatically. “No, I was talking about
Mediterranean
diets.”

“Ah. Well, I knew it was something that started with an
M
. Close enough, right? And look. Lettuce and beans. You like beans. Lots of fiber and stuff.”

“They are fried and processed, Gemma.” Janet gave a long-suffering sigh, and then looked at me, presumably wanting back up.

“And fried again,” Gemma said helpfully.

“I'll stick with what I brought with me, thanks.”

“Your loss. I tried.” Gemma gave a half shrug, and for a second I wondered if she really had tried to make an effort with Janet's diet. The moment passed quickly, however, as Gemma started piling plates. “Okay Rose, time to spill your reason for the surprise dinner gathering. Why didn’t you want Bunny to come?”

Janet fixed her gaze on me. She looked surprised, but then I figured that might have been due to her latest eyebrow lift. “You didn’t want Bunny to come?”

“Is she driving you crazy already?” Gemma asked. “She's not like stalker clinging or anything? I wonder how she got her name? If she starts boiling bunnies or anything, you let me know. I can get restraining orders.”

“What's wrong with eating a rabbit?” Janet demanded. “They are very lean meat.”

“It's a creepy, stalker movie reference, Sherlock.” Gemma was visibly annoyed. “Where have you been? It’s been out for like twenty years.”

“Oh, it will go with the rest of the décor, then.”

I rolled my eyes. “Actually, I need some help, and I just can't see Bunny not telling the wrong people. Plus, she was married to Dave, and this might have something to do with his murder.”

“What is it you need help with?” Janet asked.

“I need to stake out the convent.” My declaration caused Janet to gag on a piece of her pumpkin thing.

“You need to do what?” Gemma asked, as Janet cleared her throat. They both looked at me in surprise.

“Stake out the convent,” I repeated. “You know that I saw a nun running from the scene of Dave’s murder, and then Adam and I went to the convent, and met the new head nun? She said that Sister Bertrand has gone overseas on a pilgrimage, and then when I went to a bathroom, I saw a nun with very hairy legs.”

“Say what?” Gemma’s mouth had fallen open. “Do you think a convent full of nuns would be starting a crime ring? I know the world is a crazy place nowadays, but even that's a bit of a stretch.”

I shook my head. “Let me finish; I’m just giving you a potted summary. And by the way, this is all top secret. This has to stay between the three of us. Adam is in town to write a book on the Shadow Gang. Adam and I now think that Dave was the gang’s fence.”

Janet gasped. “You can’t be serious.”

I nodded. “Remember when we last had dinner with Bunny, and she said that Dave was laundering money?”

Gemma shook her head. “No, she said Dave owned a laundromat.” She paused for a moment. “Oh! I see!”

“And Adam thinks that the alleged new nuns at the convent are actually the Shadow Gang disguised as nuns,” I continued.

Gemma and Janet 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 Dave’s murder. Two, I saw a nun in a calf-length habit and she had very hairy legs. Three, the fact that they are wearing traditional habits is suspicious in itself. Four, one of the nuns sold six gold chains at the auction the other day.”

Gemma held up her hand. “What?”

I gave them both a rundown of the nun and the auction and what the manager had told us. “Although I can’t see how they would manage to sell gold chains that had been stolen,” I concluded, “because there are police lists that the auction house has to check against.”

Gemma took a gulp of wine and wagged her finger at me. “On the contrary, mass produced chains all look alike. Gold jewelry doesn’t have hallmarks like silver. If they’re made in Australia, they would just be stamped 18c, and if made in USA, they’re stamped 850, or even 18k. There’s no way to tell most gold chains from one another; they’d easily slip through the stolen items police lists. How much did they sell for?”

“About $16,000 all up.”

“Perhaps someone donated some gold chains to the convent, and they were selling them to raise money,” Janet said.

“Perhaps.” I nodded as I gingerly tried a tiny bite of the pumpkin thing. No one could convince me it was a meatloaf, but it was a little tastier than it sounded. “But that's what I want to find out.”

“How are you planning to do that, exactly?” Gemma asked. “Rose, I love you. I adore you. I'd give my left kidney for you, but 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. “Actually, I want to go in and talk to the Reverend Mother again, and while I do that, have someone watch 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 she’s busy with guests, and one of you can be up on the hill looking into the walled courtyard with binoculars.”

“Oh come on, Gemma. It sounds harmless enough,” Janet said. “There's no crime in looking into a yard, right?”

“You really want me to make you a list?” Gemma asked, which seemed to be exactly what Janet was waiting for.

“Well then, it's settled. You go watch from the hill, and I'll go in with Rose to talk to the Reverend Mother.”

“Now, why would I be the one on the hill?” Gemma demanded, turning her attention to Janet. “I’m the one in the news with these big success stories, so it wouldn’t be strange to see me making a donation to a convent.”

Janet looked as if she wanted to argue with her. With a sigh of resignation, she looked at me. “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.

“She's trying to impress the hot eye candy,” Gemma said helpfully, giving me a playful nudge with her elbow. “Gumshoe detective and the witty junior reporter. It's adorable.”

“It's not about that at all,” I protested, feeling my face turn red as they both stared at me, skeptically.

“What’s going on with you and what’s-his-name anyway?” Janet poked at her food and took another hearty bite. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“No. One bite of her cooking, and he would have already proposed to her,” Gemma said, with a sigh. “You need to make him something, Rose. Bait him. Reel him in before he gets away.”

“He's a guy, not a fish,” I muttered.

“No, he's a man. You know what they say. The closest way to a man's heart is with Rose’s chocolate fudge-cake,” Gemma said. “C'mon. He's a nice enough guy, right?”

“We're supposed to be discussing a convent.” I didn’t want the attention focused on me and my love life, or lack thereof. Adam was a nice guy. I liked his energetic approach to getting his story. His smile. The way his brow furrowed when he was mulling over a potential clue. But that didn't mean I was ready to make the first move. Or any move at that.

“And discuss it we did. Now it's time to discuss the hot-off-the-presses reporter.” Gemma grinned at me.

“Down girl, Rose saw him first,” Janet said in warning.

“That doesn't mean I can't drool a little. So sue me.” Gemma smirked in challenge at Janet.

“Absolutely not.” Janet sniffed, and glanced around the place. “I might end up with those awful lamps. Honestly, Gemma, let me recommend a decorator.”

“And have my place look like it was attacked by a bleach factory? No thanks.” Gemma shook her head. “I'll save you the money and come decorate for you sometime. Give your place some character.”

I thought now was a good time to interrupt. “Anyway. This weekend?” I asked hopefully.

“For what? Your date?” Gemma shot me a blank stare of confusion.

“Wait, I thought they weren't dating?” Janet looked between us.

I sighed. “The stakeout. Nuns? Convent?” Had they really gotten so distracted by talk about Adam and the decorators, that had they forgotten? Or were they teasing me?

“Oh, sure.” Janet pulled out her planner and gave it a glance. “I’m completely free actually, so it’s perfect timing. Just let me know what’s best for you.”

“I have an early morning meeting at the courthouse; otherwise I'm free,” Gemma added agreeably. “Is the reporter going to be there too?”