Read Online A Novena for Murder by Carol Anne O'Marie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Carol Anne O'Marie
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sense of confidence in the system.
“Well, what can we do for you today?” Kate set two Styrofoam cups on the desk.
“Sister Eileen and I would like to visit Leonel.”
“You’re a bit early,” Kate said.
Mary Helen cleared her throat and stole a glance at Eileen. This was the time Eileen should have jumped in with a bit of her blarney and saved the day. One glance at her friend told Mary Helen that Eileen’s mind was definitely not on the conversation. Eileen was minutely studying Kate’s beige, tailored suit. Mary Helen realized Eileen was looking for the gun bulge.
Adjusting her glasses with one hand, Mary Helen tapped Eileen’s knee with the other. “I guess we are early . . .” She let the sentence dangle.
“But how could we ever be too early to give thatpoor, dear lad a little support?” Good old Eileen was coming through!
Mary Helen could feel Kate’s blue eyes studying them, deciding what to do. She picked an imaginary speck of dust from her navy skirt.
“Just imagine yourself, Kate, an exile in a strange country,” Eileen began with a lilt. This time Mary Helen crossed her fingers. “Imagine yourself jailed, bewildered . . .” Eileen did not have to go any further.
“I’ll call upstairs and see if Bucky O’Donnell can arrange something.” Removing one gold earring, Kate picked up the phone and dialed.
“Bucky’s a graduate of St. Ignatius,” Gallagher explained, as if the man’s alma mater justified his bending the rules. “And I don’t know why she wears those things.” He pointed to Kate’s gold loop on the desk. “She must take that one off twenty times a day.”
Kate, her back turned toward the nuns, was talking quietly into the mouth of the phone. Gallagher covered any conversation they may have heard with more loud, harmless chatter.
Sister Mary Helen could not distinguish the words, but Kate’s tone was unmistakable. Kate was conning Bucky O’Donnell. She hung up, then dialed a second time.
“Everything’s fixed!” Kate turned toward the nuns with a look of triumph. “I’ve asked Jack Bassetti from Vice to take you up.” She replaced her earring.
Gallagher’s face clearly registered a nonplus. “Bassetti?”
“Yes,” Kate answered.
Without a word, Gallagher picked up his cigar and rolled it into the corner of his mouth.
I wonder what that was all about, Mary Helen thought. “Before we go,” she said, “there is something else I thought you should both know.” She paused. “I know why Leonel can’t be guilty.”
“His eyes?” Kate asked, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. Gallagher sank back into his swivel chair and laid down his pencil.
“No,” Mary Helen answered primly. “The motive.”
“Motive?” Gallagher perked up. “You know the motive?”
“Not exactly, but I am an avid mystery fan and I read recently, in one of my books, that there are only four basic reasons why anyone murders. Interestingly enough, they all begin with the letter ‘L.’ ” Holding up her hand, she counted off on her fingers, “Lust, love, lucre, and . . .” She stopped. “I can’t remember the fourth, but I know Leonel has none of these reasons.”
Kate and Gallagher stared open-mouthed. Even Eileen frowned.
Before anyone could speak, Jack Bassetti arrived. He flashed Kate a love look that Mary Helen did not miss. Kate flashed one right back.
“Sisters,” he said, “it’s my pleasure.” He motioned for them to lead the way.
Nice face, wide, generous mouth, Mary Helenthought, stepping in front of him. Altogether a handsome hunk. Kate and Bassetti? There certainly was some chemistry between them. The idea pleased her. She turned sideways to avoid hitting the desks on her way out of Homicide Detail.
Eileen followed closely behind. “I’ll bet the fourth ‘L’ is lunacy,” she whispered, “and, I swear by all that is holy, old dear, you are getting a touch of it.” Turning, Eileen smiled sweetly at a sinewy, young detective
“Well, what can we do for you today?” Kate set two Styrofoam cups on the desk.
“Sister Eileen and I would like to visit Leonel.”
“You’re a bit early,” Kate said.
Mary Helen cleared her throat and stole a glance at Eileen. This was the time Eileen should have jumped in with a bit of her blarney and saved the day. One glance at her friend told Mary Helen that Eileen’s mind was definitely not on the conversation. Eileen was minutely studying Kate’s beige, tailored suit. Mary Helen realized Eileen was looking for the gun bulge.
Adjusting her glasses with one hand, Mary Helen tapped Eileen’s knee with the other. “I guess we are early . . .” She let the sentence dangle.
“But how could we ever be too early to give thatpoor, dear lad a little support?” Good old Eileen was coming through!
Mary Helen could feel Kate’s blue eyes studying them, deciding what to do. She picked an imaginary speck of dust from her navy skirt.
“Just imagine yourself, Kate, an exile in a strange country,” Eileen began with a lilt. This time Mary Helen crossed her fingers. “Imagine yourself jailed, bewildered . . .” Eileen did not have to go any further.
“I’ll call upstairs and see if Bucky O’Donnell can arrange something.” Removing one gold earring, Kate picked up the phone and dialed.
“Bucky’s a graduate of St. Ignatius,” Gallagher explained, as if the man’s alma mater justified his bending the rules. “And I don’t know why she wears those things.” He pointed to Kate’s gold loop on the desk. “She must take that one off twenty times a day.”
Kate, her back turned toward the nuns, was talking quietly into the mouth of the phone. Gallagher covered any conversation they may have heard with more loud, harmless chatter.
Sister Mary Helen could not distinguish the words, but Kate’s tone was unmistakable. Kate was conning Bucky O’Donnell. She hung up, then dialed a second time.
“Everything’s fixed!” Kate turned toward the nuns with a look of triumph. “I’ve asked Jack Bassetti from Vice to take you up.” She replaced her earring.
Gallagher’s face clearly registered a nonplus. “Bassetti?”
“Yes,” Kate answered.
Without a word, Gallagher picked up his cigar and rolled it into the corner of his mouth.
I wonder what that was all about, Mary Helen thought. “Before we go,” she said, “there is something else I thought you should both know.” She paused. “I know why Leonel can’t be guilty.”
“His eyes?” Kate asked, a note of impatience creeping into her voice. Gallagher sank back into his swivel chair and laid down his pencil.
“No,” Mary Helen answered primly. “The motive.”
“Motive?” Gallagher perked up. “You know the motive?”
“Not exactly, but I am an avid mystery fan and I read recently, in one of my books, that there are only four basic reasons why anyone murders. Interestingly enough, they all begin with the letter ‘L.’ ” Holding up her hand, she counted off on her fingers, “Lust, love, lucre, and . . .” She stopped. “I can’t remember the fourth, but I know Leonel has none of these reasons.”
Kate and Gallagher stared open-mouthed. Even Eileen frowned.
Before anyone could speak, Jack Bassetti arrived. He flashed Kate a love look that Mary Helen did not miss. Kate flashed one right back.
“Sisters,” he said, “it’s my pleasure.” He motioned for them to lead the way.
Nice face, wide, generous mouth, Mary Helenthought, stepping in front of him. Altogether a handsome hunk. Kate and Bassetti? There certainly was some chemistry between them. The idea pleased her. She turned sideways to avoid hitting the desks on her way out of Homicide Detail.
Eileen followed closely behind. “I’ll bet the fourth ‘L’ is lunacy,” she whispered, “and, I swear by all that is holy, old dear, you are getting a touch of it.” Turning, Eileen smiled sweetly at a sinewy, young detective
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