Sister O'Marie - A Novena for Murder

Quickly, Gallagher spread-eagled Leonel against the college building, patted down his sides, and slipped on the handcuffs. With a steady rhythm, Kate read him his legal rights, then grumbled something into the car radio. Gallagher wedged Leonel into the back seat.

Sister Mary Helen stood speechless, a phenomenon that many later remarked was most unusual. Kate Murphy walked toward her. “Are you all right, Sister?” she asked.

Mary Helen nodded. “But why Leonel?”

“We dusted that statue for prints, Sister, and his turned up.”

“Only his?”

“No, but his were the only ones that didn’t belong there. We understand he threatened to kill the professor. ‘Crush the life from him,’ was the direct quote.”

“But Kate.” Mary Helen reached over and touched the young woman’s forearm. “Leonel may have touched that statue, but he could not have killed anyone with it. Just look at his eyes-such gentle eyes.”

Kate compressed her lips. “Sister,” she said politely, “right now we are not looking at eyes; we are looking at motive and opportunity.”

Sister Mary Helen chose to ignore motive. “Did you check on where he was that night?”

“Yes,” Kate answered. “With Marina, he says. And she says so, too. They are each other’s alibi. Yet she was alone when you saw her. Claims Leonel stayed in his room while she went to the office to pick up some work. You thought someone was in the upper hall, right? Could have been he. Anyway, we’re taking him downtown for a few questions.”

“Ready, Kate?” Gallagher called from the car.

“Talk to you later, Sister.” Kate slid in beside him.

Even before she turned around, Mary Helen felt the silent stares of the kitchen help crowding the doorway. Their stained aprons covered the opening like a patchwork curtain. Only the small, black figure of Sister Therese, eyes wide, mouth shut, broke the pattern.

Even poor Therese is stunned into silence, Mary Helen thought as she turned back to watch the taillights of the Plymouth round the building.

Almost instantly, the kitchen burst into a babble, with Therese’s voice rising above the pack.

Forgoing her coffee break, Mary Helen walked down the driveway toward the Sisters’ Residence. Poor, poor Leonel! She knew he hadn’t killed the professor. When lined up beside motive and opportunity, nice eyes and instinct were hardly a logical argument. Mary Helen realized that. Yet she knew, as surely as she knew the sun would rise in the east, that Leonel was innocent. Well, old girl, she thought, squaring her shoulders, with the police making that mistake, the burden of proving it seems to be falling directly on you!

Opening the front door of the convent, she suddenly remembered why she had gone to the professor’s office. Joanna. She had forgotten to tell Kate Murphy that Joanna Alves was missing.

“Thanks, Sister.” Kate Murphy replaced the phone and walked across the Detail to the small interrogation room. She called Gallagher out. Reluctantly, he left Leonel.

“That was Sister Mary Helen,” she said, replacing her right earring.

“What did she want?”

“Seems she forgot to tell us that Joanna Alves is missing.”

“Who the hell is Joanna Alves?”

“The secretary’s sister. You know… Marina Alves-Joanna Alves.”

“How long?”

“Only overnight, but the sister is very worried. Called relatives, friends, everyone she can think of, and Joanna’s not with any of them. You don’t suppose something has happened to her?”

“Naw! She probably just has a boyfriend.”

“Wouldn’t her sister know?”

Gallagher yawned, then checked his watch. Most of the Detail had gone home for the night, and Kate was starting to perk. He yawned again. “I think we’ve got enough to hold this guy overnight. Let’s give him to the lads upstairs and get the hell out of here. We can question him again first thing in the morning, after we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.” He emphasized the “all.”

Kate didn’t answer.

Gallagher sighed. “What’s on your mind, Katie girl?”

“I was just trying to piece the day together.”

“Yeah?”

She flipped open her note pad. “Marina found the body. Swears she was with Leonel in his room until then. If she’s telling the truth, maybe we have the wrong guy in there.” Kate was thinking aloud. “Or, maybe she did it. But then, it doesn’t seem logical to hit him, then run out and raise such a commotion.”

“Who says women are logical?”

“No sexist jokes.” Kate’s blue eyes leveled on him.

Gallagher cocked his head toward the interrogation room.

“Far as I can see, the guy in there is our best bet so far. His prints are on the statue. His and Marina’s. She’s the secretary. Secretaries sometimes move things. Dust. But him? What are his prints doing on it? Which, if you remember, is why we picked him up for questioning in the first place.”

Kate chose to ignore the sarcasm in Gallagher’s voice. “He claims that Sunday night he was with Marina. And he might just be telling the truth about the prints. He could have helped Marina replace the statue. The shelf is high.”

“If not, he is a quick thinker.”

“Or maybe the two of them could have been in it together. He bashes the professor, then disappears.”

“Wouldn’t it seem more chivalrous for him to stay with the body and let her slink away?” Gallagher yawned again.

“Chivalry is clearly dead, Gallagher,” Kate said. “Besides, he would have no valid reason to be in the office.”

“True. The girl says they were together in his room up to just before she found the body. And she’s sticking to the story, which is one of the reasons we don’t have an open-and-shut case, Katie girl.”

Again, Kate chose to ignore the sarcasm.

She ran down her notes. “Let’s see, there was the janitor, Luis Neves-says he was sweeping at the time. Officers found a pile of dirt that looks like he is either very clever or very innocent. Tony Costa is the only other person who lives on the property, besides the nuns, and he claimed he was with about one hundred other Portuguese at a hang-out in Santa Clara. I checked it out. Bartender remembers him.”

“How come the bartender remembered one guy in a crowd that big?”

“Seems Costa is a regular. Plus he gets as belligerent as hell when he has had more than his share. So the bartender keeps an eye on him.”

Gallagher shrugged. “Figures. What about the nuns?”

Kate stared at him in disbelief. “They were all together in the Community Room. Several verified that. All, that is, except Cecilia, the president, who was at an important Board of Directors’ Meeting. Mayor’s sister-in-law was with her. It’s this shadow on the stairs, the one the old nun thinks she saw, that interests me. Now, I’ll bet that’s our murderer. Maybe one of the Portuguese the professor helped, but didn’t help enough. Maybe a disgruntled student he flunked.”

“Good thinking, Kate!”

“Anyway, in case our Leonel doesn’t work out, I’m getting a list of failing students from the Registrar’s Office. And Marina told me she’d put together a list of people Villanueva is known to have helped.”

“We can pick that up tomorrow.” Gallagher checked his watch again. The Homicide Detail was growing dim. “Let’s take the guy upstairs and get the hell outa here,” he said.

The two inspectors rode down in the elevator. “Do me a favor, will you, Kate?” Gallagher asked as they walked across the Hall of Justice parking lot.

“What is it, Denny?” Kate fumbled for her car keys, unlocked the door, and slid in.