Read Online The Bad Kitty Lounge by Michael Wiley - Free Book Online

walked out of the undercroft into another hall. She led me to an office and guided me inside. She stood close to me and said, “You’re intruding on a private moment.”
    â€œI’m sorry,” I said, and meant it.
    The nun seemed to think she still needed to convince me. “Sister Terrano connected with these girls in ways that no oneelse could. She
touched
them and her touch was like—” For a weird moment I thought she was going to say
sex
. “Like the touch of God,” she said.
    â€œI’m the one who found Sister Terrano’s body,” I said. I pulled a business card from my wallet and gave it to her. “I’m looking into the murder.”
    Knowing who I was didn’t impress her. “What’s there to look into? The police have Greg Samuelson.”
    â€œHe didn’t kill her,” I said.
    â€œNo?”
    â€œWhy would he want to?”
    â€œI don’t know why anyone would want to. Everyone loved her. I never knew anyone who wished her harm. She was the purest person I’ve ever known, the—”
    I thought about DuBuclet’s comment on her
complicated
life. “Except when the cameras were off?”
    She adjusted her eyes and mouth. “You’re going to have to leave.” She was a small woman but looked ready to pick me up and throw me out.
    I stepped toward the door to the office. “I understand.”
    We walked up the hall toward the undercroft together. I asked, “Who controls the finances for Sister Terrano’s abstinence program?”
    The nun considered me for a moment. “She did, with some help from Greg Samuelson.”
    â€œWas there any oversight?”
    â€œOf course. We have annual audits.”
    â€œAnd everything added up for her?”
    I was beginning to annoy her again. “I’m not an auditor.”
    â€œOf course not,” I said. “Do you know, when was the last time anyone saw Sister Terrano alive?”
    â€œNo idea.”
    â€œWho would know?”
    â€œGreg organized her schedule.”
    â€œDo you mind if I look at his office computer?”
    She looked liked I’d slapped her. “Yes, I mind. Anyway, the police have it. Judy’s, too.” She put her hand on my shoulder, guiding me toward the door to the undercroft.
    â€œAnyone come to visit her lately who’s not in the church?”
    â€œOut,” she said.
    â€œDid she have a cat?”
    â€œNo. Come on. Out!” She stopped at the door. “You aren’t welcome here now.” She forced a smile. “Her funeral will be early next week. You can come back then.”
    I shook my head. “I’ve gone to too many funerals.”
    As we walked through the undercroft the girls on the video were continuing to give Sister Terrano a hard time. One said to her, “You don’t know what you’re missing, lady.” The thirteen-year-old looked triumphant. “Yeah, you don’t know.” Sister Terrano interrupted, now without a laugh. “Yes,” she said. “Oh yes, I do.” Something in the way she said it—something sad and longing—silenced the girls in the video. A few of them even nodded in sympathy.

THIRTEEN
    THE SMART THING TO do would have been to drive downtown, find a coffee shop near Eric Stone’s office, and kick back until our 3:30 appointment. That also would have been the respectful thing to do. The priests and nuns who promoted teenage virginity would have approved. But Judy Terrano still would have been lying on a stainless-steel shelf in the Cook County morgue, awaiting release to a funeral that even a poor sinner like me could attend. Greg Samuelson still would have been lying in a hospital with half a face. Stone still would have been screwing Samuelson’s wife. William DuBuclet still would have been holed up in his curtained house on the South Side, stirring the pot slowly.
    I took a side door out of the