Sister O'Marie - A Novena for Murder

“By finding the murderer.” The dismal moan of a foghorn punctuated the last sentence.

“And just how do you propose we do that, when the entire San Francisco Police Department doesn’t seem able to?”

“By investigating on our own. What do you think, Eileen?”

“ ‘You may as well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb,’ ”. Eileen said.

Anne stopped to remove a small stone that had caught in the thong of her moccasin. “Which reminds me,” she said, “with all that happened yesterday afternoon, I never got a chance to tell you about the lists.”

“Lists?” The change of subject came too fast for Mary Helen.

“Yes. Remember, I asked Marina for a list of people Joanna interviewed? Well, I got it, plus the list the police asked for, the one of the people the professor had helped. I was going to give them to you, but then…” Anne left her sentence unfinished.

Slowly, she rose and faced Mary Helen. “I’ll go to my office and get them, and you two can start with your investigating.”

“Not ‘you two.’ We three,” Mary Helen said. A determined dimple pitted each of her cheeks.

“You’re really serious about this, aren’t you? Why not leave it to the police?” Anne asked.

Detective fever would be too hard to explain. Mary Helen decided to get to the heart of the matter. “Because I’m like you,” she said, “and this whole murder business makes me so damn…” The word just shot out. But when it did, it tasted so good she said it again. “This whole murder business makes me so damn mad!”

They were just finishing breakfast when Sister Therese whizzed by, brandishing the Chronicle . “Look at this,” she said, pointing to the banner headlines. “This paper is nothing but a scandal sheet.” She rolled her eyes toward Eileen, who, as librarian, always felt obliged to defend the printed word.

“No doubt about it, two murders at our college may be a scandal,” Eileen said, “but no one can deny they are also news. And you must admit that’s a nice picture of Cecilia.” Even she had to admit later, however, that HOMICIDE HITS HOLY HILL in 72-point did smack a little of the sensational.

After Therese left, Mary Helen took her last swallow of coffee. “Where are the lists?” she whispered.

“My office,” Anne whispered back.

“How about meeting there in twenty minutes?” Mary Helen looked at the other two. “We can go over the lists and decide what to do.”

Both nuns nodded.

Anne put on the kettle for hot water, and the three were just settling around her large desk when the public address system clicked on. “Sister Mary Helen, please report to the Sisters’ Residence parlor, at once,” a tunnel voice announced.

“What now?” Mary Helen pushed away from the desk.

“Sister Mary Helen, please report to the Sisters’ Residence parlor, at once,” the voice repeated, then added, “Inspector Gallagher will meet you there.”

“Oh, oh,” Anne said. “Do you think he knows about our getting these lists?” She shoved the papers toward the middle of the desk.

“Don’t be silly,” Mary Helen said. “How could he?”

“Shouldn’t we tell the police we want to help?”

“Why bother them with it?” Mary Helen asked, fooling not even herself. “We are doing nothing wrong. We are simply interested citizens helping our police force. It’s the decent thing to do. After all, it is our duty. Why, Inspector Gallagher will be grateful.”

“Good night, nurse, Mary Helen,” Eileen said. “You had better stop before you begin to believe it yourself.”

“Don’t you think I’m right?” Mary Helen turned toward Eileen.

“Old dear, you don’t want to know what I think,” Eileen said, then added, smiling, “what is it you want us to do while you’re gone?”

“Why don’t you go through the lists? Maybe pick out the names that appear on both papers. We can start to call those people.”

Mary Helen left the two huddled over the desk.

Mary Helen walked quickly down the driveway toward the Sisters’ Residence. She hugged the right edge of the road, leaving the student drivers enough room to speed up the hill. No sense being run down by a ten o’clock scholar, she thought, watching out for the few cars racing up the hill.

She stopped for a moment to admire the formal gardens. The primroses spread an elegant apron of color in front of the main building. They look so perky and well-mannered, she thought; in fact, the whole campus looked so stately and safe it was hard to believe what had happened here. An unmarked police car swished by. The grim faces of the two officers brought her back to reality.

Both Inspectors Gallagher and Murphy were waiting in the parlor when the old nun arrived. Kate smiled warmly when she saw Mary Helen. “Sit down, Sister,” she said, motioning toward an overstuffed chair.

Gallagher squirmed. He seemed too big for the tiny parlor. Finally, he perched on the edge of a straight-backed mahogany chair. “We’d like to ask you a few more questions, Sister,” he said.

“I think I told you everything I know last night,” Mary Helen said, remembering her hour-long session in the sacristy.

“There’s one thing we wondered about.” Kate took out her narrow note pad. “When you reported the body, why didn’t you tell us who it was?”

“I wasn’t really sure,” Mary Helen answered.

“You weren’t sure?” Kate interrupted. “You mean you had never seen the girl before?”

“Not exactly. I saw her once over the side of the hill. She looked like Marina, and so I asked Eileen who she was.”

“Over the side of what hill?”

Reluctantly, Mary Helen explained her special spot to Kate. She thought she glimpsed a look of camaraderie cross the young woman’s face when she mentioned her addiction to “whodunits.”

Why not? Hadn’t she heard that it was a notorious fact that detective stories were the favorite reading of statesmen and college presidents? Why not police inspectors?

“I saw her with Tony, the gardener.”

“What were they doing?” Kate looked up from her notes.

“Kissing-but in my opinion, not too affectionately.”

Gallagher cleared his throat. “Could you explain what you mean, Sister?”

“Yes, Inspector. Tony grabbed her and gave her a very rough kiss. It didn’t look much like love to me. And by the time you are my age, you begin to recognize love when you see it.”

Kate changed the subject. “What did you tell me you were doing just before you found the body?” she asked.

Gallagher turned and frowned at Kate. Mary Helen couldn’t tell if he was surprised or frustrated. In either case, she didn’t blame him. Tony the gardener seemed like an excellent choice of suspect to her. For a moment, she wondered why Kate didn’t pursue the subject. Then it dawned on her. Of course! She had struck a chord. Kate suspected that she had picked up the chemistry between Jack and her. Well, she had.

“What were you doing just before you found the body?” Kate repeated. Her eyes avoided Mary Helen’s.

“I told you. I was looking up Dom Sebastiao in the library.”

“How did you happen to know that the statue was Dom Sebastiao?”

“Leonel told me.” As soon as she mentioned Leonel, Mary Helen knew she had made a mistake. Kate looked up from her notes.

Gallagher rose. Putting his foot on the chair, he bent forward, and his face came close to Mary Helen’s. “When did he tell you about the statue, Sister?”

Sister Mary Helen resisted the temptation to tell him to get his foot off the good mahogany chair. “The day after the professor’s…” She hesitated a moment, recalling the scene in the man’s office.