A Novena for Murder (21 page)

“Maybe not, but until we know for sure, I think it is foolish and downright dangerous for Anne to be out there alone!”

Eileen stared at her friend in amazement. “Well, if this isn’t a typical case of the pot calling the kettle black, old dear,” she said, “then I’ve never seen one!”

Impatiently, Mary Helen walked to the edge of the clearing and looked down at the two inspectors. Gallagher had removed his jacket and was heaving great shovelfuls of dirt from one corner. Kate stood next to him, holding his jacket and peering into the freshly dug hole.

Abruptly, Inspector Gallagher stopped. On hands and knees, Kate inspected his hole. She mumbled something Mary Helen could not hear. Gallagher shook his head, then helped her to her feet.

“Looks like you were right,” Kate cupped her hands and hollered up.

It was the first time in a long while that Mary Helen could remember not wanting to be right.

Within minutes, the entire hillside had been cordoned off. “This looks like something right out of
The Streets of San Francisco
.” Mary Helen pointed to the black-and-white patrol cars lining the driveway. Their circling red-and-blue lights cut through the fog. Police radios squawked. Floodlights threw
broad beams across the misty clearing. A police ambulance whooped up the hill, followed closely by the coroner and several men carrying metal cases. Crime Lab, Mary Helen thought. Finally, the inevitable van marked “Channel 4—On the Scene” turned in from Turk Street and pulled behind the last patrol car. A jeans-clad, bearded fellow jumped from one door. Hoisting a heavy television camera to his shoulder, he followed a trim, smartly dressed woman. Mary Helen recognized her as one of the reporters from the five o’clock news. Poor Cecilia!

“You two might as well go to the convent and keep warm. There’s nothing else you can do up here,” Kate said. She walked several feet down the path with the two nuns.

“Have you any idea who’s buried there?” Mary Helen asked.

Kate shook her head. “Whoever it is hasn’t been dead too long,” she said. “We’ll get the body out and downtown to be identified. Denny and I are going to pick up Tony. There are some questions we want to ask him. I’ll keep you posted.”

Kate turned to walk away. Unexpectedly, she swung around. “By the way, is there anything else you’d like to mention before I go?” She leveled her eyes at Mary Helen.

“Well, there is something.” Mary Helen swallowed hard, hesitant even to admit the possibility to herself. “I’ve seen Tony digging in several other spots.”

Kate’s face blanched.

Right after the evening news, Mary Helen ran into Sister Anne. Head down, the young nun tried to slide past.

“Are you all right?” Mary Helen asked. One glimpse at Anne’s red-rimmed eyes and death-white face told her that it was a silly question.

“Fine. Just tired.” Anne moved rapidly toward the front staircase.

“Are you sure? Did something happen with Marina?”

“Nothing happened,” Anne snapped. “I’m fine. Just tired,” she said, without turning around.

While Mary Helen was debating whether or not to follow Anne up to her bedroom, the phone rang.

It was Kate Murphy. “Are you watching TV?” she asked.

“Just finished.” Mary Helen’s knees were still weak from the sight of hefty patrolmen struggling up the embankment with a bloated bag on a stretcher—not once, but four times! She still couldn’t believe it. The whole thing was like a horrible nightmare.

“Thanks be to God,” Eileen had muttered when the fourth stretcher appeared. Mary Helen had looked at her friend aghast. “Death always comes in threes,” Eileen explained. “Six means it is all over.”

“Sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner,” Kate continued. “I guess you saw that they uncovered four bodies. Things moved fast after you left.”

“Have you any idea who they are? Are they the four missing Portuguese boys?”

“All we know so far is that they are male and Caucasian. Coroner is still working on positive I.D.’s. Also, we sent that paint to the lab. Nothing, so far. Denny and I are just back from picking up Tony. We’re just about to start the interrogation. I’ll call you tomorrow. And, Sister”—Kate’s voice had a tired ring—“thanks. And for heaven’s sake, tonight sleep well.”

As she opened the door of the phone booth, Mary Helen could hear Sister Therese’s staccato steps coming toward her.

“Imagine! Now it is ‘Homicidal Maniac Haunts Holy Hill’!” Therese rounded the corner waving the front page of the
Chronicle
. Her high-pitched voice filled the corridor. “Disgraceful! Disgusting! Dastardly!

“But, you mark my words.” She shook her thin, arthritic forefinger at Sister Mary Helen. “Tomorrow is the last day of my novena, and we’ll have one haunting homicidal maniac in harness!”

I
t was the first time in anyone’s memory that classes at the college had been cancelled. Rescheduled, yes. But cancelled—never! Sister Cecilia had made the announcement with a quivering voice.

A heavy, silent gloom hung over the deserted campus. The largest gray stone building loomed on the hilltop like an abandoned castle left to ruin. The gargoyles set in the majestic stonework frowned into space. Even the bright yellow primroses bordering the formal gardens drooped.

Sister Therese was desolate. Not a single soul, not even Mary Helen, ventured to mention her novena. “A despicable day in the history of this college,” Therese had proclaimed at breakfast. No one had disagreed.

Unfortunately, someone had forgotten to inform the sun. It rose gloriously cheerful “with all his beams full-dazzling.” Mary Helen stepped out of the Sisters’ Residence. She watched the warm, golden
halo cover the hill and make it sparkle. Where in the world was the fog when you needed it?

She stretched. In spite of everything, she had slept soundly. What was it Cervantes had written? “So long as I am asleep, I have neither fear nor hope, trouble nor glory.” Yet, she woke still tired. Slowly, she rambled up the driveway. Every part of her hurt. You can’t expect to roll down a hill at your age, old girl, and never feel a twinge, she had reminded herself this morning when she pulled her two stiff knees out of bed.

The dirt path was still cordoned off. Several official-looking cars parked along the driveway reminded her that the Crime Lab was still at work. Probably sifting through tons of dirt looking for—she wasn’t sure what. Clues, no doubt, to link someone with these heinous murders. What a job, she thought, peering down the embankment.

It was difficult—no, impossible—to see what the men were doing from the driveway. Mary Helen pulled up the thick rope and was just about to duck under when she heard Eileen call her name.

“For the love of all that’s good and holy, you aren’t going in there, are you?” Eileen’s gray eyes registered horror.

Mary Helen released the rope. “Don’t be ridiculous!”

“We are both wanted in the parlor. It’s Kate Murphy,” Eileen announced, watching the rope bounce.

“I wonder what she wants.”

“I have no idea. But they have a saying in the old
country which I think fits this situation perfectly. ‘Just keep a cool head and dry pants, and you’ll be fine.’ ”

Mary Helen stared at her friend. In all the years she’d known Eileen, she had never heard her quote that saying before. But these were quite unusual times!

The two hurried down the driveway. Mary Helen was puffing by the time she and Eileen sank into the overstuffed parlor couch.

“Good morning, Sisters.” Every freckle stood out on Kate Murphy’s white face. Her eyes, red-rimmed from lack of sleep, shifted uneasily. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

“Let’s hear the good news first.” Eileen leaned over and patted Kate’s hand. You could always count on Eileen to be optimistic. Mary Helen wished they would rid themselves of the bad news first.

“Well, we questioned Tony for hours. Gallagher and I. First, I played the good guy, he was the tough cop. Then we switched. Finally, Tony broke. I think he was actually glad to get it off his chest. It’s some story.”

The two nuns inched up to the edge of the couch waiting for Kate to continue.

“Seems you were right all along, Sister Mary Helen. The professor, this Sebastiao business, and Joanna were all tied in. Apparently, Professor Villanueva was a real bast . . .” She caught herself. “A character. Made trips to the old country. Put himself up as a savior.

“That Dom Sebastiao—reincarnated business you were telling me about. It’s a screwy cult that never seems to quite die out in Portugal. It rises every so often among the young men who can’t help hoping that Sebastiao will return and lead the country to glory, plus take a few of them along on his coat tails. Guess it happens every place.

“Anyway, this guy convinced them that he was their ticket to fame and riches. They could really make something of themselves. First thing he did was bring them to the U.S. without benefit of the Immigration Department.”

“And all for a price, you can be sure.” Eileen shook her head disapprovingly.

“Quite a price, we found out from Luis, your janitor. What he didn’t tell us was that none of them could afford the whole thing, so they had to borrow from the professor, at a huge interest. They would be working to pay him back for years and years.

Eileen could hardly believe it. “Sounds like a combination of loan shark and indentured servant,” she said.

“And the men he duped were only a beginning. If he could bring three or four more over every year and have them repay him, with all the money tax free, in no time at all the man would have a very lucrative business going.

“But these guys were merely poor, not stupid. They weren’t here very long before they realized
they were getting nowhere fast. They began to demand a little something back and
adeus
!” Kate pulled her forefinger across her throat.

“Himself?” Mary Helen was aghast to think of the meticulously groomed professor with the practiced smile slitting someone’s throat.

Kate shook her head. “Dirty his fingernails? Never! He had Tony take care of it. Stalk, kill, and bury. All for one fee.”

“Why Tony?”

“Seems Tony killed a man in a drunken brawl in Santa Clara. At least, the professor told him he had. Tony couldn’t remember. We’ll have to check it out. Villanueva claimed he covered up for him, so the professor had Tony right where he wanted him. The guy was desperate. I don’t think his heart was ever really in it.”

“And there is no accuser so terrible as the conscience that dwells in the heart of every man.” Sister Mary Helen remembered some Roman or other had said that in the first century, but she couldn’t, for the life of her, remember which one.

Eileen shuddered. “Why would anyone in his right mind do such a thing?”

“Simple,” Kate said. “Greed.”

Lucre, Mary Helen thought, relieved the motive wasn’t loathing. All along, Leonel had weighed a little heavily on the loathing. She really should not have worried, however. She had seen it all in the eyes: the professor’s, Leonel’s, and finally, Tony’s.
Those fifty years in the classroom had, indeed, stood her in good stead. One good look, and she could spot innocence or malevolence instantly. She was glad she hadn’t lost her touch!

“Have you identified the bodies yet?” Mary Helen asked.

“Not officially. But Tony told us who they were. By the way, I’d appreciate it if tomorrow you could go with me to see Senhora Rubiero.”

“Her two nephews?” Mary Helen sucked in her breath.

“Plus the two Manuels we were looking for.”

“How does Joanna fit in?” Eileen asked.

“Joanna and her sister were a different story. They did have legal papers. For some reason, the professor didn’t want to mess with them.”

“Leonel did mention that in the village, they were richer and better educated than most,” Mary Helen said.

“Maybe the professor was afraid the family would make trouble.”

“He couldn’t exploit them nor blow his cover by not sponsoring them.” Mary Helen was getting into the spirit of the thing.

“Anyway. It was Joanna’s thesis on Portuguese immigrants that got her into trouble. When she went looking for primary sources and how well her subjects adjusted to life in the United States, she found out too much for her own good.”

“We’ll never know exactly what made her
suspicious,” Mary Helen said. “All the copies have disappeared.

“Even my library copy,” Eileen added.

“I suppose he thought that if Joanna could stumble onto his scheme, someone else reading the thesis might do the same.”

Kate nodded.

“Anyway, after the thesis was finished, she decided to do something about the abuses. When she went back to find these fellows for the second time, they had disappeared.”

“And of course, she got suspicious—went to check it out with the relatives.”

“The little dots on her list!” Eileen beamed.

“Right. What Kevin Doherty told you was correct. When Joanna went to see Senhora Rubiero, she finally realized something was not jibing. She probably guessed what it was. Unfortunately, she told her suspicions to Tony.” Kate faced Sister Mary Helen. “As a matter of fact, the day you saw him kiss her, she had just come upon him digging a grave.”