Nun the Wiser (A Deadly Habit Cozy Mystery Book 2) (5 page)

Chapter 9.

On Sunday Adam stopped by in the morning to pick me up. As I climbed into his car, he explained exactly what we were doing again, even though he had already told me on the phone.

“So there’s a big to-do at the convent this morning,” he said. “A bunch of people will be there I guess, and some high-up Bishop is coming in from the Hunter Valley. I think we need to be there, ‘cause it might give us a good chance to snoop.”

“Snoop?” I asked. This was a new development from the conversation we’d had on Tuesday. I had thought we were going there simply to see how the fake man-nuns reacted with something they knew nothing about, such as mass. And now there was talk of snooping.

“This thing,” Adam said as he pulled out on the highway, narrowly missing a speeding truck, “it’s a celebratory Mass for the founding of something or other. The convent I guess. The point is, they’re going to be busy.”

“They won’t know what to do,” I said hopefully. “Everyone will know they’re a sham. At least the Bishop will.”

Adam shook his head. “I don’t know. I’m sure Sister Maria, or whatever her real name is, has drilled and drilled them. She won’t want to let it up,”

We didn’t talk much on the ride to the convent, and I was sure that Adam was just as nervous as I was. He had told me to wear something that would not draw attention to myself, so I had opted for black slacks, a gray shirt, and minimal make up. Gemma would have a fit if she could see me.

The parking area was packed, but I figured it was better for our cause if plenty of people were going to Mass. We blended in with the crowd as we stepped inside.

The church in the convent was small and was rapidly becoming cramped, and the lighting was dim. That suited me just fine. Adam and I sat on a pew in the back row and waited for Mass to start.

The Bishop who had come into town was an older man with a shock of white hair, though it was thin enough to see his pink sunburned scalp underneath. He was short and portly, and although he had a warm smile, his speech was high-pitched and excited.

After ten minutes Adam nodded to me and we slid from the pew. No one paid us any attention. Sister Maria and her fake nuns were in the front rows. I was sure that when they kneeled in prayer, a few hairy ankles would poke out from the hems of their habits. I hoped someone would pay attention.

Adam led the way back out of the church, and into the hall. I followed him as he cut to the left. Thankfully, no one was in the hall.

“How much time do we have?” I asked. I was trembling.

“I would guess an hour at the most,” Adam said.

“Where to first?”

“Bedrooms.”

I nodded and followed Adam into the convent proper. We soon found the bedrooms down a long hall. “I’ll check it out,” I said, nodding to the first door on the left. While I didn’t want to be alone, I knew I’d be out of there faster with the two of us searching separately. My mouth was dry and I had to fight waves of nausea. I’d wanted to be a spy as kid — now I wanted to be anything but.

I looked about the room. It was small, with a plain bed in one corner and a large but plain oak closet in another. A writing desk stood along one wall, and there was a small end table with a radio upon it next to the bed. I went to the writing desk first. I pulled open the drawer. Inside were handwritten envelopes addressed to Reverend Mother, and a few drafts of reply letters. And then in the bottom of the drawer, a fat envelope stuffed with money. I pulled out my cell phone and took a picture of the envelope and the money inside of it, and then quickly returned everything to the drawer.

I hurried to the large closet and opened the double doors. Hanging inside were several habits, and in a drawer below were sets of women’s underwear. I shut the closet and went out into the hall.

Adam had managed to get through two rooms. He was in the third one down when I found him.

“Anything?” I asked.

“Men’s boxers, men’s razors.”

“We already know that they’re men.”

Adam held up his phone. He too had been taking pictures.

“And now we have proof,” he said. “What did you get?”

I showed him the picture of the envelope stuffed with cash.

“Wow,” he said. “I didn’t find any in the guys’ rooms.”

“Sister Maria might be managing their ill gotten gains,” I guessed.

“You’re probably right,” Adam said. “Let’s forget the other rooms — I want to check out the other hall.”

I nodded and let Adam lead the way. We had to cross the entrance to the chapel, but everyone seemed to be still listening to the Bishop. I was glad for Catholic priests and their dislike of short services.

The other hall was just as long, but with fewer doors. The first door opened up into a shallow closet that was filled with mops and brooms, and was overflowing with cleaning equipment. The unpleasant and sharp smell of bleach flooded into my nostrils as soon as I opened the door, so I shut it quickly.

The next door opened into another restroom, like the one at the end of the living quarters hall. The next door was locked. Adam tried the doorknob a few times, no doubt hoping that it was merely stuck, but no, it was locked, a deadbolt turned tightly.

“I wonder what they have in there?” Adam said quietly.

“I’d love to find out — it’s the only locked door in the place,” I said. I wasn’t exactly sure that was true, as we still had many more doors to check. We were debating whether to try to find some way into the room, when I heard footsteps coming our way, nearing the corner.

“Come on!” I whispered, grabbing Adam by the arm and pulling him toward the janitorial closet. I threw the door open and practically jumped in, leaving Adam to do the same and close the door behind him.

We waited in the closet. My breath was caught in my throat. I was so scared that I didn’t even delight in being squashed into a closet with Adam. It was so quiet and still that I could hear my own heartbeat. It seemed so loud that I was sure whoever was now walking down the hall would hear it too.

The steps approached the closet door. I imagined someone throwing the door open and catching us, but to my enormous relief, there was no pause at the door and whoever was walking kept right on past.

Then the steps stopped, and I could hear the jangle of keys on a key ring.

“The door?” I risked whispering, and Adam nodded.

I could hear the door unlock — a loud metallic click that echoed in the otherwise quiet hall. That was followed by more footsteps as someone went into the room. I reached for the door handle, but Adam stopped me.

“We could see what’s in there,” I whispered.

Adam shook his head. “Too risky.”

Just then the footsteps grew louder, and I could hear the door being locked. The footsteps approached again and then mercifully passed. They faded from earshot as whoever they belonged to went around the corner, back toward the chapel.

“We need to get out of here,” Adam said, and I nodded. I needed no persuading.

We opened the door slowly, and I peered carefully into the hall. It was empty the one way I could see, so I could only hope it was empty in the other direction as well. I pushed the door open fully and stepped out, glancing over my shoulder to make sure no one was there. Mercifully, the hallway was empty.

We rushed around the corner, and then to the front door of the monastery. We heard singing coming from the chapel, but we didn’t look back. Adam pushed open the heavy front door, and we both hurried down the stone steps to the sidewalk. Then it was a running walk to Adam’s car.

As I opened the passenger side door, I threw a glance over my shoulder to the convent. There was Sister Maria watching us.

I was chilled to the bone. “Adam!” I said urgently.

“Oh,” was all he said, and then he sped away from the curb.

“How did she know?” I said. I pushed my feet into the floor in an attempt to stop my legs from trembling.

“Know what?” Adam asked.

“That we were there. Was she following us?”

Adam shook his head. “It had to be a coincidence — she only saw us when she stepped outside.”

Adam sounded sure of that, but I wasn’t convinced. Sister Maria was trouble. Apart from being the leader of a gang of vicious bank robbers, the woman was unbalanced. I knew that from our little chat at the festival. Still, I didn’t want to push the topic with Adam. I didn’t want to admit how much Sister Maria scared me, even more so than the man-nuns.

Chapter 10
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The day started like every other usually did. I made myself some coffee and then flipped over the sign that hung on the front door. I smiled as I looked out over the busy street. It looked like the tourists were already milling about, so I headed out the back to bring out some new furniture that I’d recently repaired and restored.

I lifted a large table from the work area and was carrying it to the front when the bell signaled that a customer had entered. I put the table down and made my way to the front. When I reached the sales floor, I slipped behind the front counter.

The customer was a tall, strong-looking man with sharp features. His face had a familiarity to it, but I couldn’t quite remember where I’d seen him before. I figured I must have seen him around town recently. Still, a little trickle of apprehension ran up my spine. “Good morning,” I said, looking at the man with a smile.

The visitor turned to look at some of the furniture that lined the left side of the shop. I figured that he hadn’t heard me, or perhaps was too lost in thought studying the pieces. After I few moments, I spoke again. “Good morning. May I help you with anything, or are you happy to browse?”

The man turned around and looked at me. He stared at me, almost as if he were studying me. His face broke into a thin-lipped smile. “Good morning,” he said. “Some of this furniture is interesting. Do you do the work yourself?”

I was caught off guard by the question, but regained my composure quickly enough to respond. “Actually, yes, I do. I specialize in repairing and restoring old, damaged furniture.”

“That’s wonderful; it really is. I used to be a bit of a carpenter back when I was young,” the man said.

“Oh, that’s interesting. My father worked in construction and taught me a few things about sanding, varnish, and all that good stuff,” I said with a smile.

“It’s always good to know how to work with your hands,” the man said with a strange grin on his face.

“So, was there anything you were looking for specifically?” I asked.

The man turned back toward the furniture briefly, but then walked to the front of the store and peered out the windows. “Honestly, I’ve just been window shopping around town a bit. You guys have some amazing stores here.”

I wasn’t quite sure what to think of the customer. He made me uneasy, but the business side of me wanted to try to make a sale. I walked out from behind the counter and pointed to a large oak dresser that sat in the corner of the shop. “If you’re in need of a nice dresser, I’m selling that one quite cheaply. It’s been sitting around the shop for quite a while due to its size, but it’s probably the best value in here when you compare its price to the new prices.”

The man walked over to it. “That really is a beautiful dresser,” he said. “I’m not sure I would be able to transport it though. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in town.” He opened up the two doors and looked inside. He almost looked like an ostrich hiding its head in the sand. Suddenly he whipped his head out and slammed the doors. “Nice and roomy in there, too.”

“Yes, it would come in handy for the packrats and people with large closets,” I said. “I can recommend the couriers I deal with on a regular basis. I sometimes send large pieces interstate.”

When the man turned back to me, I was sure I noticed a strange look in his eyes. “I’m just looking around. If I make any purchases it’ll probably be after I talk to my —” The man paused for a moment. “My wife,” he added after a lengthy pause. “She would go crazy if I dropped a ton of cash without consulting her first. I’m a brave man, but not that brave,” he said with a chuckle.

Again, a strange sensation ran up my spine. Something didn’t feel right, but I knew that hunches weren’t always accurate. “Sure, I understand that,” I said. I walked back behind the counter, and after the visitor turned his attention back to the windows, I flipped through a catalog for an upcoming auction that was resting near the cash register. “If there’s anything I can help you with, just let me know.”

The man looked back over his shoulder and spoke softly. “If you don’t mind me asking, how long have you had this place open?”

I looked up and locked eyes with him. “It’s been a few years, but it seems like forever.”

“Yes, I know what you mean. Time tends to fly by without you realizing where it’s gone,” the man said, still inspecting some of the furniture in the shop. He seemed interested in one of the sideboards that I had recently added to the sales floor. “So, how has business been?”

I looked up from my catalog once more. “It’s been good,” I said, wondering where his questions were leading, if anywhere.

“That’s great, but you’d think there would be more customers in here at this time of morning,” he said, looking at his watch.

“Oh, it really varies depending on the tourists and such. I usually get a rush around noon, so it’s not unexpected for the morning to be a bit slow.”

“Ah, I see,” he said. He started to pace back and forth. “This might seem an odd question, but before you opened up this shop, what did you do for a living?”

I shot the man a confused glare. “Excuse me?”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to come off as intrusive or anything. I’m just trying to make some conversation while I decide which of these pieces of furniture my wife might let me bring home when we finally leave this town.”

I wasn’t sure what to think, but figured I’d take him at his word. “I never really settled on anything for too long. I just drifted from one thing to another until I figured out what I really wanted to do, which was own a shop like this. I’ve always enjoyed working on furniture since it reminds me of when I was a kid, working with my dad in the garage.”

“Fond memories, I’m sure. Have you ever been a journalist? I’ve always thought investigative journalism seemed like a blast. Who wouldn’t want to feel like a detective, right?”

A sour feeling washed over me — the man’s question perplexed me. Something wasn’t right. “What did you say your name was again?”

“Oh,” he said, turning. “My name is, um, Pete, Peter Smith.”

I studied the man’s face. “Well, Pete, it’s nice to meet you. I’ve never been a journalist, but I can imagine it might be fun. Why do you ask?”

“Oh, no reason. I’m just being a bit curious. I like to know about people’s pasts — it helps me better understand who they are. What about a cop? Have you ever worked in the police force as a detective, or anything like that?”

Another odd question. I remembered that I’d thought he looked familiar when he entered the shop. Again, I tried to think where I’d seen him before, but still came up blank. “No,” I replied. “I’ve just done the normal kinds of jobs, like retail and such.”

“Oh, that’s respectable,” he said. He then headed toward the back area.

“Sorry, but customers aren’t allowed back there,” I called after him.

Pete turned, apparently a bit startled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I was just curious about the place. Is there no second floor?”

“Excuse me?” I said.

“I noticed when I was walking in that this building is a lot taller than it seems to be when you’re actually inside,” he said.

“Oh. That’s because there’s an apartment above the shop, but access to that staircase is off limits to the public.”

The man walked over to the counter and gently rested his arms on it. I noticed his strong, muscular arms. They were almost intimidating. “So, is that where you live?” he asked.

I was now truly afraid. I eyed the shop door, but the man was blocking my way to it. “Yes it is, but I don’t feel that where I live is relevant to our conversation.” I had done my best to sound brave, but I could hear the tremor in my voice.

“Fair enough,” he said, sliding his arms off the counter. He shot me a strange look and cracked a crooked grin. He raised his right hand quickly, scaring me, until it went to his head and his fingers combed back his already slick hair. “I think I might be interested in that large chest over there, but I don’t know when I’ll be back for it if the wife allows.”

“Great,” I said, still eyeing the exit.

To my relief, the man headed to the door. He turned back at me and pointed. “See you later,” he said. His tone was ominous.

I clutched the counter, and then as soon as he shut the door, I ran to it and locked it, flipping the sign to Closed.

As soon as I did so, I made the connection. I had seen that face before, and right then, I knew why he had looked familiar in the first place. He was one of the bank robbers that I had seen in the photos.

I let out a loud shriek, upset at myself for not remembering such crucial information when he was still in my store. The way he was interrogating me had given me reason enough to suspect that he wasn’t who he claimed to be.

I walked toward the front of my shop and looked through the window, to see where the man was headed. To my horror, he was standing across the street watching the shop. He waved to me, a satisfied expression on his face.

I was sick to my stomach. I hurried back to the front counter and picked up my cell phone. I called Adam right away.

“Hello?”

“It’s Rose. I think we have a problem.”