The Corporal Works of Murder (13 page)
Read The Corporal Works of Murder Online
Authors: Carol Anne O'Marie
“How long have you been undercover?” she asked, shoving the paper plates into a waste paper basket.
“A couple of weeks,” Tim said, explaining that the real owner of the New You Tattoo Parlor, a retired cop, was taking some time off to renovate his kitchen. “But I guess I've blown my cover now,” he said.
“You know, Tim,” Kate said, her voice as nonchalant as she could make it, “my partner and I were wondering why nobodyâand by nobody I mean none of the brassâtold us that you were here, just yards from where Sarah Spencer was shot.” Kate watched the color flood Moran's face.
He shrugged. “When you find that out, find out why nobody told me Sarah was digging around right under my nose. If I'd have known, I could have kept my eye out for her. Maybe this would never have happened. She was just a kid.” His eyes filled. “Just a kid!”
“Thanks for the lunch.” Gallagher's voice startled them both. “We'd better hit the street, Kate.”
“Right,” she said, noticing that enormous water spots had replaced the soy spots on her partner's tie.
“It'll dry,” he said in response to her look of horror.
After they left the New You, Inspectors Kate Murphy and Dennis Gallagher sat in the front seat of their unmarked car talking. Kate watched as several women leaving the Refuge spotted them.
Who do we think we're fooling
? she wondered, watching the women deliberately cross the street. One good thing about it was that everyone in the neighborhood knew a police carâmarked or unmarkedâwhen they saw one. So they were assured absolute privacy.
Who do we think we're fooling
? she wondered, watching the women deliberately cross the street. One good thing about it was that everyone in the neighborhood knew a police carâmarked or unmarkedâwhen they saw one. So they were assured absolute privacy.
“What the hell do you make of it?” Gallagher asked.
“Make of what?” A number of things had Kate confused.
“Both of them undercover in the same area. Each one not knowing about the other.” Gallagher sighed. “I'm assuming that if Moran didn't know about the girl, she didn't know about him. Makes you wonder why.” Gallagher stared straight ahead. “Just like that old nun to stumble on it, isn't it?” he asked.
Kate laughed. “You're right,” she said, twisting a piece of hair.
“It's almost as if Moran and Spencer were set up to spy on one another,” she said, wishing she hadn't eaten so much.
“It's almost as if Moran and Spencer were set up to spy on one another,” she said, wishing she hadn't eaten so much.
“That's what I was thinking, too,” her partner answered softly. “Do you suppose that Donaldson will tell us what this undercover operation was all about?”
Kate shook her head. “I doubt it. But it must be something big. Maybe Sweeney will find out for us,” she said, confident that their own lieutenant would if he could.
Gallagher squirmed in his seat. “I feel a little hog-tied, not knowing exactly who is on whose team.” He turned the key in the ignition. “Maybe we should head back to the Hall and find out.”
“Before we talk to the ladies at the Refuge?” Kate asked.
Her partner nodded his head. “I've had enough of Sister Mary Helen for one day,” he said. “Compared to her, even Pits Donaldson looks good.”
At the Refuge, Sister Mary Helen tried to keep her mind on the refugees and as far away from the goings-on up the street as possible.
After all, at my age who needs murder and intrigue,
she reminded herself several times. But as anyone who knew herâeven slightlyâcould have predicted, it was a losing battle.
After all, at my age who needs murder and intrigue,
she reminded herself several times. But as anyone who knew herâeven slightlyâcould have predicted, it was a losing battle.
All afternoon her world had seemed topsy-turvy, as they used to sayâ
odd word
, she thought and wondered about its origin. Maybe she'd ask old Donata to research it on the Web. Donata was becoming computer friendly and might enjoy a project.
odd word
, she thought and wondered about its origin. Maybe she'd ask old Donata to research it on the Web. Donata was becoming computer friendly and might enjoy a project.
“What the matter with you, girlfriend?” Miss Bobbie asked. “You be so quiet.”
“Sorry.” Mary Helen managed a smile. “I'm just preoccupied.”
“Say what?” Miss Bobbie wrinkled her brow.
“I'm busy thinking about things. My mind is a million miles away,” Mary Helen said and sat down in an empty chair across from the older woman.
Miss Bobbie nodded to show that she understood. “You been mulling,” she said. “And I bet you be mulling about that murder up the street.”
“That and what I should do about it,” Sister Mary Helen said honestly.
“Best thing you can do, girlfriend, is stay out of it.” Miss Bobbie was solemn. “Ain't no good come from messing with the police, especially when one of them be killed.” She took a deep breath. “No good at all.”
You're telling me
, Mary Helen thought.
, Mary Helen thought.
Miss Bobbie leaned forward. Her false teeth clicked as she whispered, “Besides, the word on the street be Junior Johnson the one!”
Startled, Mary Helen studied Miss Bobbie's face, but it might as well have been carved from lava rock. “The one?” she frowned. “You mean the killer?”
Only the older woman's shifting black eyes showed any emotion. At first, Mary Helen wasn't sure if it was excitement or fear. A little bit of each, she concluded, watching Miss Bobbie scoot around in her chair until her back was toward Geraldine. Obviously Geraldine was to be one of the last to know.
Following Miss Bobbie's lead, Mary Helen moved, too. “What makes you think that Junior is responsible?” she whispered.
Miss Bobbie raised her eyebrows, her scar twitching. “I just knows. Trust me. Junior be the one.”
“But I understood that he could not be found.”
“You right. He gone missing! Which proves it for sure. Why else would the man go missing?” Miss Bobbie demanded. She waited, daring Sister Mary Helen to come up with a better explanation.
“I don't know,” Mary Helen said, and indeed she didn't, but there could be other reasons. Under different circumstances she would have suggested some, but Miss Bobbie seemed to be running
a little short on patience. “What does his Auntie Geraldine have to say about it?”
a little short on patience. “What does his Auntie Geraldine have to say about it?”
Miss Bobbie's lips curled into a tight smile. “If I be you, I not be asking.” She rolled her eyes toward the older woman. “Not now anyway.”
Sister Mary Helen saw that Geraldine was no longer alone. Olivia had joined her. Although it was next to impossible to tell what they were talking about, Mary Helen knew that whatever it was, it was serious. As Olivia spoke her platinum hair, standing out like a full-blown dandelion, bobbed nervously on her skinny neck. Her entire body was rigid and her gestures wooden.
Mary Helen felt a sudden pang of sympathy as she watched Geraldine. Although the older woman was listening to what Olivia was saying, her head was down and her heavy shoulders drooped as she played with a piece of doughnut on the table in front of her. She looked so sad, so alone, that Sister Mary Helen felt the tears burn in her own eyes.
Abruptly Olivia pushed back her chair and stood towering above Geraldine. Several of the women nearby quietly moved to other tables as if they feared getting caught in the crossfire. Mary Helen felt her own stomach knot. Olivia said something that Mary Helen was too far away to make out, but whatever it was seemed to add to Geraldine's anxiety.
When Olivia left, Geraldine continued to sit and stare, oblivious to the noise around her. As far as Mary Helen could tell Geraldine had been sitting at that same table for hours. Excusing herself on the pretext of refilling the sugar bowl, she went to the kitchen, determined to putter around for a few minutes, then, despite Miss Bobbie's warning, to talk to Geraldine.
“Oh, here you are.” Anne's voice startled her.
“Were you looking for me?” Mary Helen dug a large scoop into an enormous barrel of sugar and filled the smaller bowl.
“Not really,” Anne said, “but now that I've found you, would
you mind helping Judy fix some shower rolls? Several women are waiting to take showers and it seems we've run out.”
you mind helping Judy fix some shower rolls? Several women are waiting to take showers and it seems we've run out.”
Sister Anne took the sugar bowl from her and Mary Helen went to the cupboard to help Judy. After she had put a hotel sized soap, shampoo, and lotion into a washcloth, Mary Helen handed it to the volunteer who rolled it tightly in a bath towel. Soon they had taken care of all the women who were waiting, plus they had a small pyramid of bath rolls on the shelf for tomorrow.
“I think we've done it,” Judy said with a pleased grin.
Sister Mary Helen must have looked at the volunteer strangely because Judy explained, “Caught up with the shower rolls.” Mary Helen was glad that there had been two of them. She was so distracted with thoughts of Geraldine and Junior and murder rolling over and over in her mind that, left on her own, she couldn't be sure what she'd put in the washcloths.
Judy checked her wristwatch. “It's nearly three o'clock, Sister, and if you don't mind, I'd like to leave a little early. I'm going to get my hair cut.”
“Fine,” Mary Helen said, looking around the gathering room. Actually, there was no reason for Judy to stay. Many of the women had gone and most of those who did remain were starting to gather up their bags and sacks, ready to find shelter for the night. Only a fewâthe same fewâmade no effort to go. Mary Helen had noticed that every night these same women stayed until they were asked to leave and the doors locked. Their only reason seemed to be the hope that they would be overlooked, and able to spend the night at the Refuge. Some even hid in the bathroom or the sleep room. Despite their best efforts, Anne was always able to ferret them out.
Heartbreaking, Mary Helen thought, but Anne would need all sorts of permits and permissions to allow the women to spend the night. God willing, someday soon they might be able to expand into an overnight shelter.
Sister Anne had already begun to lock up when Mary Helen finally made her way to Geraldine's table. She was surprised that Geraldine was still there. “How are you doing?” she asked.
Geraldine looked up and without a word Mary Helen's question was answered. Dark half-moons had formed under her eyes and her cheeks were sunken. She gave a tight smile revealing that she had neglected to put in her upper plate. That wasn't like Geraldine at all. Was it a trick of the light, Mary Helen wondered, or did her hair have more strands of gray in it than it had just a few days ago?
Obviously the woman was distraught. Her liquid brown eyes jumped nervously. “Olivia bring me bad news,” she whimpered, her mouth dry. “She say Junior be in trouble. He want me to come.”
“Come where?” Mary Helen reached for Geraldine's hand, which was shaking. “Did Olivia tell you where?”
Geraldine's smile was pinched with pain. “She tell me the words, but she don't know what they mean.”
“Oh?” Mary Helen waited for an explanation.
“It be like a code.” Geraldine shut her eyes. Swallowing hard, she fought to gain control.
“But you know what he is telling you?”
Geraldine sighed. “Of course, I knows.” She studied Mary Helen with a look of pity, then patted her hand. “You not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, girl,” she said, “but you tries.”
Remembering that a silent mouth never did much harm, Mary Helen decided to say nothing. She watched while Geraldine took another bite of her doughnut and a few sips of coffee. When she put down her cup, she seemed more like herself. A little of her old fire had returned to her eyes.
“He be waiting,” Geraldine said. “I be going.” She stood, her chair scratching against the rug.
“You can't go alone,” Mary Helen blurted out. “It's getting
late and wherever you are going to meet him might be dangerous.”
late and wherever you are going to meet him might be dangerous.”
“And who is going with me?” Geraldine leveled her eyes. “You?” she asked with a sneer.
“Why not me?” Mary Helen said. Perhaps she'd have the opportunity to talk to Junior. Besides, she was a little weary of being deprecated. First the police, then Miss Bobbie, now Geraldine. “So, why not me?” she challenged.
“Why not you what?” Mary Helen had not heard Anne walk up behind her. She must have finished locking up quickly.
“Go with Geraldine to meet her nephew Junior Johnson,” Mary Helen said without thinking.
Anne's face paled, making her hazel eyes seem enormous. “If you are going,” she said stoutheartedly, “I'm going, too.”
“All right,” Mary Helen said after some hesitation. “That settles it. Let's go.”
As the two nuns followed Geraldine out of the Refuge, Anne touched Mary Helen's arm. “Sister,” she whispered as Mary Helen turned around. “Where is it exactly that we are going?”
Geraldine insisted on sitting in the backseat of the convent car. Sister Anne would have preferred that she take the passenger seat next to her so that she could hear the directions more clearly. But the woman's mind was made upâbackseat or no seat! After checking that Geraldine was locked in with her seat belt securely fastened, Mary Helen climbed in beside Anne.
“Where to?” Anne asked cheerfully, turning the key in the ignition.
Geraldine flinched. “Get out on the street first,” she said. “Then I tells you.”
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