Kicking the Habit (3 page)

Ace struggled to clear
his head and focused on Wallace. “Nun-sitting will never fly with my captain. This
is my jurisdiction; therefore, my case. I don’t need the Feds getting involved,
telling me what to do.”

“You don’t have a
choice. Not when a senator’s involved. Like I said, we’ll look into other
avenues while you babysit Sister Mary Stubborn. Let us know if she comes to her
senses or if you find anything.”

The sister’s face
puckered up. “Why, I never—”

“Ain’t
that the truth?” Rogers grunted.

“Watch your mouth.” Ace
stepped between the sister and the assholes in front of him.

“Come on, Wallace—we’re
wasting our time here.” The men headed for the front door.

Ace was onto their game.
He knew exactly why they’d given up so fast. They had some other big lead they
were going to follow and obviously thought it was more important than whatever
the sister had to say. Ace was sure they figured with him babysitting her, he’d
stay out of their way.
Screw that.

“I’ll be sure to give
you everything I’ve got, so long as you do the same,” Ace shouted after them.

They just kept walking
and, with a push of the door, they were gone.
Share information, my ass,
he thought. They weren’t about to share
anything with him, and they didn’t intend to let him solve this case either. He’d
be damned if he’d let them win. This case would advance his career tenfold. Besides,
he never was one to turn down a challenge, especially from the likes of Beavis
and Butthead.

Ace clamped his teeth
together so hard his molars ached. The last thing he wanted was to nun-sit, but
he knew the sister was in danger. “Listen, I think it’s a good idea if we hide
you somewhere far away from here.” He turned and looked way down at her as she
stood beside him, the top of her head only reaching the middle of his bicep.

She didn’t stand a
chance on her own.

“What on earth for?” she
scoffed, standing a bit straighter. She might be a little thing, but she had a
stubborn streak and more backbone than most people, including himself. That
could be a problem.

“Whoever killed the
Senator means business,” he said. “They obviously don’t want whatever he said
to get out and, like it or not, you are the only one with that information. You’re
a sitting duck, especially without your habit. You might want to reconsider
leaving the sisterhood.”

“I will not cower in
fear. If it is my time to pass on from this earth, then nothing I can do will
change that.”

He put his hands on his
hips and leaned over her in his most intimidating stance, but she didn’t so much as blink. “Why don’t you get it?” he asked in
frustration. “All you have to do is tell me what he said and let me put you
someplace safe.”

She stared off in the
distance as if pondering his words and making a decision about something. At
last she nodded. “There’s a reason I was in that booth at that precise moment. Obviously,
I was meant to hear Senator Sloan’s confession, just as I am meant to solve
this case,” she said so matter-of-factly that he almost missed it.

“Excuse me?” he blurted,
taking a step back.

“I never said I wouldn’t
help you solve this case. I simply chose not to help you in the way you would
like. I’ll take what I know, and I’ll find the clues that will put whoever
killed Senator Sloan away so he can’t hurt anyone else.”

“You can’t be serious!”
he sputtered.

“Oh, I’m dead serious.” Her
eyes narrowed in that determined, stubborn way he’d already come to recognize,
which basically meant she wasn’t giving in anytime soon. “I owe the man that
much,” she went on. “Besides, I now know what I was meant to do with my life. Open
my counseling clinic so I can help the citizens of New Hope, both the living
and the deceased, and that is exactly what I plan to do.” She smiled as though
she’d just told him she’d decided to plant a rose garden.

He couldn’t have formed
a complete sentence if he’d tried.

“If that will be all,
Detective, I have things to do as well.” The stubborn woman turned and strolled
away, her fuzzy white slippers peeking out beneath her robes, whispering across
the floor like a gentle breeze.

Ace stared after her,
rubbing his jaw, his mind scrambling for a way to control his temper. A way to control this situation. A way to
control her. No way would he let her help solve this case. She could get
hurt. Nun-sitting just took on a whole new meaning.

Who
the hell did she think she was—Sister Mary Sleuth?

Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. Yes, it’s me
again. Guess I haven’t kicked the habit completely. Okay, not funny. Anyhow, I
didn’t mean to curse or take your name in vain. I promise, I only did so in my
mind, but you have no idea how hard it is to live with my granny and sister. “Lord,
give me strength,” just didn’t cut it this time. If you knew them, you’d
realize forgiveness is in order here.

The next morning, Cece stood on
Main Street, staring at a small building with a furnished studio apartment
upstairs. Granted, the building needed a lot of work. But with a little tender
loving care, she was confident she could make it into something special. Besides,
it wasn’t like she had other offers. Ever the optimist, she tried to look at
the bright side. She had a place of her own, and that was a start.

Who would
have thought she’d been ready to take the final step in becoming a full nun? Now
here she was, living as a normal person, getting ready to open her own
business. Okay, so she wasn’t exactly “normal,” and her business was more of a
way to keep doing what she’d been doing all along: counseling the good citizens
of New Hope, Massachusetts. But things were different now. Cece
would have to adapt to living on her own.

She hadn’t
lived in the “real” world for almost a decade. She might be unconventional with
her pink toenails, and okay, not very nun-like with her sexy dreams and the
wacky things that happened to her, but inside she still felt like a sister. That
ought to blend in well with today’s generation, she thought wryly.

She took a deep breath and decided this was a blessing. A
way to help people from the outside, starting with Senator Sloan. She’d prayed
long and hard for guidance, and felt confident she was meant to seek out truth
and justice for all … whether the good detective liked it or not.

Pasting on a
smile, Cece spoke to the bald-headed man beside her,
who wore a grin so wide it made her own face hurt. “Thank you, Mayor Evans. I
don’t know what to say.”

“Sister Mary Cecelia—”

“Please, call me Cece. I’m not
a nun anymore, you know.” She might have lived in the nunnery for nine years,
but she’d spent a lot of time at Our Lady of Glory over the years. Several
people who hadn’t felt comfortable talking to a priest had sought her out for
her advice. That was what had first given her the idea to open her clinic.

“You’ll always be Sister Mary Cecelia to the citizens of
New Hope. The people adore you. Don’t you know that by now?”

“Well, I’d like to think they—”

“And they do, my dear. They most certainly do.” His grin
widened, if that was possible.

“Are you sure the town wants to donate this building for
my clinic? It seems like a lot to me.” She chewed her bottom lip, glancing at
the crowd gathered to watch her cut the ribbon. They acted as if this were the
opening of some million-dollar complex. Nothing like pressure
to make a person doubt herself.

A lightning bolt streaked through the darkening sky. Five
seconds later, a boom of thunder clapped so loud it made the windows on the
ancient, dilapidated building rattle.

Cece looked up.
Okay, okay, I
get it. Quit doubting yourself and stick to the plan, already.

“Sister, you may have left the church, but the citizens
of New Hope will never leave you. They still want to know they can confide in
you, that you will keep their secrets safe.” Mayor Evans focused on her, and
something in his gaze made her scalp tingle, sending a feeling like jagged
fingernails scraping her flesh as they tracked a path down her spine. “Just as you
did for Senator Sloan,” he finished, and then his eyes narrowed a fraction
before he turned to the crowd and smiled once again.

Maybe he had
another motive for giving her this building. It was a known fact he’d supported
Senator Sloan’s opponent. Could
he
have killed the senator to ensure the election went to his candidate? After
all, the senator had been leading in the latest polls. His biggest stance had
been on gun control, while his opponent had offered more funding for improving
the town.

“Besides,
several people have come forward and donated enough money to cover what I would
have sold this old building for, anyway,” the mayor continued, flashing his
pearly whites, blinding Cece. “Rest assured, the
money will go right back into improving the town. Now cut the ribbon and smile
pretty for the Senior Scrappers. I want to make sure this picture gets into
next week’s edition of the town photo album.”

Although Cece might be a woman
of simple means, she was a firm believer in “waste not, want not” and wasn’t
above accepting donations for the cause. She smiled wide, cut the ribbon, and
blinked rapidly as she attempted to adjust her eyes to the strobe light of
flashes going off.

The Senior
Scrappers were a force to be reckoned with and more agile than outsiders could
ever fathom, but New Hopians knew: “When in doubt,
don’t pout.” It didn’t matter if the shot was horrible; it still went in “the
book.”

With their
ever-ready cameras dangling from their necks like fine pieces of jewelry, the
relentless senior citizens snapped a zillion pictures for the town scrapbook in
an ongoing competition to capture the perfect shot. Over the past forty years,
there wasn’t a single event in New Hope that hadn’t been recorded in the town
scrapbook.

A movement
high above caught Cece’s eye, and she gasped. “Is
that a scrapper in that old oak tree?”

“It sure is.
Who knew she could climb so high?” the mayor muttered behind his sparkling
teeth. “Just keep smiling. That angle might make for a better shot.”

“She’s gonna break her neck,” Cece said,
as the first drops of rain hit the ground. “I think it’s time to call it a
day.”

“Oh, it’ll
pass, just give it a—”

Another
crack of lightning streaked through the darkening sky, followed by a boom of
thunder even closer than the one before. The rain started to come down harder.

“You were
saying?” She folded her hands in front of her and looked up at the mayor.

“You’re
right, Sister. My mistake. After all, we wouldn’t want
anyone else getting hurt, now would we?”

The corners
of her lips tipped down as she faced the crowd. Had she heard a threat in the
mayor’s words, or had her imagination gotten a little too active? She wiped the
rain off her forehead and decided this was not the time to dwell on it.

Raising her
voice to the crowd, she said, “Thank you so much, everyone. I promise I won’t
let you down. In fact, I don’t have much to pack up. So tomorrow, right after
Senator Sloan’s wake, Cece’s Counseling Clinic will
be open if anyone needs me. But for now, I think you should all return to your
homes. There’s a nor’easter coming, and it looks like a doozy.”

Everyone
dispersed, and with the key to her new apartment in hand, Cece
trudged through the wet leaves to her granny’s house, which happened to be
within walking distance of her clinic. She looked over her shoulder but didn’t
see anyone, even though she could have sworn she heard something
. Hmmm. Probably just
another scrapper. Or worse, that persistent detective
who insisted on nun-sitting.

How was she
supposed to find proof with him around? When she’d told him she intended to
solve the senator’s murder, he’d looked like the Terminator, ready to terminate
her
. She had a suspicious feeling if
he caught her in the act of snooping, he’d throw her in the slammer just to
keep her “safe.” She couldn’t let that happen.

Pushing her
annoyance aside, she let the excitement at the thought of starting something
new fill her. But her excitement quickly faded and anxiety set in. Growing up
with a crazy granny and a rebellious older sister had left Cece
lost and confused. Entering the convent had given her the one piece of sanity
in the insane life she’d been trapped in.

Now that she was no
longer a nun, she’d moved back home; only she’d never intended to stay. Her
clinic was open, which meant she would have to tell her granny and her sister
something she knew neither one wanted to hear.

She was moving out
again.

Ace pulled up in front
of Sister Mary Cecelia’s house that afternoon. Peering through the pouring rain
at the number on the garage, he double-checked the address. This wasn’t the
first time he’d been to this residence. He groaned, knowing this wasn’t going
to be pretty. He stepped out of his Chevy truck, then climbed the front steps
of the old colonial with dread, preferring the soaking rain to the inevitable
storm headed his way once he stepped foot in that house.

Knocking
three times, he rocked back on his heels and prayed the nun’s sister wouldn’t
answer. Moments later, the door swung open, and a vision of pure sin stood
before him. Dark, almond-shaped eyes stared back at him. She had skin like
silk, curves in all the right places, and a head of hair more magnificent than
anything he’d ever seen—thick, dark chocolate curls cascading all the way down
to her waist.

He stood
there, speechless for a moment, and then found his tongue. “Uh,
hi. I—I’m Detective Jackson, ma’am.” He cleared his throat. Twice. “I’m looking for Sister Mary Cecelia.”

“You’re
kidding, right?” A bewildered look crossed her heart-shaped face. “I’m standing
right here, Detective, and please call me Cece. I
told you, I’m not a nun anymore.”

“Get the
fuck out of here!” he blurted, wishing instantly he could snatch the words
back.

Her jaw
unhinged so wide, he could see clear back to her tonsils. “
Excuse
me?”

“I am
so
sorry, Sister. I had no idea.” This
woman in no way, shape, or form resembled the short, little nun in billowing
dress he’d met yesterday morning.

“Y–y–you
just look so different,” he finally got out, feeling like a complete ass. “I
mean, I’ve only seen you once; and in my defense, you were buried beneath that …
that … ‘thing.’ How was I supposed to know all
that
—” he waved his hand up and down through the air, gesturing
from her head to her toe several times, “—was hidden beneath those robes?”

The sister turned cotton-candy pink. “Oh,” she said. “I
guess I didn’t realize I look that different when I’m not wearing a habit and
gown.”

“Different? Not even close. You look like someone else
entirely.” What the hell was he doing? She was a
nun
, for God’s sake. “You just took me by surprise.” He swiped the
moisture from his forehead with the back of his hand. “I’m fine now. So, can I
come in?”

“I’m sorry. Where are my manners? You’re soaked to the
bone.” She led the way into the house, and he couldn’t help noticing that her
jeans hugged her curves in all the right places.

Christ.
He hung
his sports jacket on the wooden coat tree in the foyer, still recovering from the
thought of finding a nun attractive, and wiped his shoes on the Berber throw
rug. “Thank you, Sister.” He would continue to call her “sister” to ensure his “bone”
would behave.

“You caught me just in time.” She stopped in the kitchen
and turned on the kettle.
What was it
with these “holy” people and their goddamn tea?
he
wondered. “I was about to leave for my new apartment,” she continued.

He frowned as he sat at the old Formica table and studied
her. “Wow, you work fast. How did that come about?”

She took a moment to open the packets of a couple of tea
bags, her hair swaying like a cloud of temptation. He squeezed his fingers into
fists, keeping them firmly beneath the table as he tried to focus on her words.
“Well, the town donated a building for my new clinic, and it has a studio
apartment above. It’s right on Main Street, so it’s perfect. Isn’t that
wonderful?” Turning around, she smiled at him.

His lips twitched, and he had the urge to smile back …
until her words sank in. “No, it’s not wonderful. Main Street is in plain
sight. You really don’t get that you’re in danger, do you?”

She pursed her full lips and
cocked her head. “Please, Detective, methinks you’re being a bit dramatic.”

“Methinks?”
Jesus,
who the hell talked like that?
Then he realized
she was doing it on purpose. Treating him like a child because she didn’t take
him seriously at all. “Well,
me
thinks you’re being a lot pigheaded.” He threw up his hands.
“There’s a killer on the loose. Nothing dramatic about that.”

“I’m twenty-eight. I can take care of myself.” She set
his cup of tea before him and sat across from him.

“Take care of yourself?” He pushed his cup away, unable
to believe what he was hearing. “Please. You’ve been sheltered for most of your
life.”

“I have not.”

“You have too. First your
parents, then your grandmother, and then the sisterhood. From what I’ve read,
you’ve never been on your own. What in God’s name makes you think you can take
care of yourself?”

“You checked up on me?” Her eyes widened and her lips
parted.

“I’m a detective, and you’re involved in a high-profile
murder case. It’s my job.” He shrugged. “You heard the Feds. I’m supposed to
stick to you like a bad habit.”

She narrowed her eyes and stiffened her spine. “Well,
I’ll thank you to do your job someplace else. Go investigate something, would
you? I have my own clues—I mean things to do.” She leaned forward and glared at
him.

Riiight
.
He slapped his hands on the table and matched her stance,
glaring right back. “Which is exactly why I’m not letting you out of my sight,
sweetheart.”

She gasped, her cheeks turning flamingo-pink this time.
“Well, good luck with that, Detective. When I was a nun, we
sisters
were very quiet and had an
uncanny knack for slipping in and out of places without being seen or heard.
Feel free to follow me,” she smirked, “if you can find me, that is.”

“Just because you wore slippers beneath your robes
doesn’t make you quiet.” She looked surprised, and his smile came slow and
sweet. “Don’t you worry, Sister, I’m very good at my job. In fact, I’m—”

“You’re the devil himself, is what you are,” a gravelly
voice cackled as an old woman ambled into the kitchen. She wore a different set
of black robes and hat that spoke of an order that stood for the complete
opposite of everything a nun represented.

Cece sighed. “Detective, meet
my granny, Hester Monroe. She thinks she’s a witch.”

The old woman, whose long gray curls resembled a frizzy
version of the nun’s, scowled at the sister. “I don’t
think
, lovie; I know. I was born a witch,
and I’ll always be a witch, but you were born with the seven holy virtues.
You’re a nun, and you’ll always be a nun. But he is the devil incarnate.” She
pointed a crooked finger with a long jagged nail at him.

“He’s the
reason you left the church. My crystal ball told me so, but I was too late to
stop it. Don’t you worry, though. I put a hex on him
that should send him back to the gates of hell, where he belongs.” She walked
over and poured herself a cup of tea. “And if that doesn’t work, I’ll just sic
my lucky black cat on him.”

What was it
with these old crones condemning him to hell? Was he really that bad?

A one-eyed, brown-haired dog trotted into the kitchen,
stopping to sniff Ace’s feet. Dropping lazily to the floor, the dog’s tongue
rolled out and he began to pant.

Her granny
screeched, “Sic him, Kitty. Scratch his eye out, and maybe we can have it put
back in yours, my precious.”

What the
hell
did he say to that?
Ace thought. At a
loss for words, he stared from the nun to her whacked-out, color-blind granny.
Jesus, she lived in the Twilight Zone.

“Granny, please.” Cece stared
up at the ceiling and closed her eyes for a moment, and then she winced as she
looked at him. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” He lifted one shoulder. “In my business, I
meet all sorts of strange characters. You should see some of the people I’ve
busted.”

Right on cue, the nun’s sister waltzed into the room,
with a smirk on her face, her shoulder-length bob bouncing as she walked. “Like
me, Detective?” A perfect ten, she had most men eating out of her hands. But he
wasn’t most men. He preferred the softer, more natural look of a real woman
like … his gaze shot to Cece.
Well, hell!

“Candy Monroe.” He focused back on Cece’s
sister and blew out a long, exhausted breath. He had a sinking feeling
nun-sitting was going to be a humongous pain in his ass. “Nice to see you with
some clothes on—for a change,” he added.

“You two know each other?” Cece
gaped.

Oh, yeah. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

Candy scowled
at Ace then turned to her sister. “He’s the asshole who busted me a month ago,
hauled me in with a bunch of prostitutes during some sting operation at the
club. I tried to tell him I was a pole dancer, not a hooker, but he wouldn’t
listen until we got to the station. When he found out the truth, he had to let
me go, right Jackass?”

“It’s Jackson.”

“There’s a difference?”

Everyone had
to mangle his name. It was getting old. “You mean there’s a difference between
a stripper and a hooker? Who knew?” He threw her words back at her, knowing he
was baiting her and angering her sister, but he’d had enough. Patience might be
a virtue in the nun’s world, but he was fresh out.

“Why, you—” Candy started.

“Okay, then,” Cece interjected,
“I’d better get going so I can move my belongings in before it gets too late. I
have a bunch of things to do this afternoon. The sun sets so early during fall,
don’t you think?” The nun stared at him intensely.

“Right. Let me give you a hand. Do
you have a U-Haul?”

“What for?” She pointed to the
box in the corner. “My stuff’s over there.”

“That’s it?” He gaped.

“Waste not, want not, right?”

“I guess.” But he couldn’t imagine existing in a world
where all that he owned fit into a single box. He headed to the corner and picked
up the box as she said her good-byes.

“I’m not going far, Charity, just down the street this
time. I promise I’ll stop by more often,” Cece said.

“My name’s Candy now. I’m not, nor have I ever been,
someone’s charity case.”

“I know that, but I can’t call you Candy. You’ll always
be Charity to me,” Cece said softly, and Candy rolled
her eyes as she tossed up her hands.

“You could always come to church with me, you know. Then,
you’d see me more. We could get to know one another better. We only have each
other, Charity. Please don’t shut me out.”

“Don’t push it, Cece. It’s
enough that you’re back, so let’s just take it from there, okay?”

Cece squeezed her sister’s
hand. “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow after the wake. Maybe we’ll have lunch.”

“It’s
a date. Gran, you wanna join us?” Candy asked over
her shoulder.

“Got plans.” Granny shot a
wicked glance at Ace and cackled in a way that made his skin crawl. “Big plans
that involve my cauldron and a special brew,” she hissed. “Just gotta find me a squirrel’s tail in the woods and a pinch of
gunpowder at the mini-market.”

“Gran, you can’t get gunpowder at the mini-market.” Candy
looked at Cece and tried to hide a grin.

“That’s what you think.” Gran cackled louder, her eyes
never leaving Ace.

He ignored her crazy ramblings and looked away. Damn
woman gave him the creeps. “You ready, Sister?” He hefted the box.

She kissed her granny’s cheek, patted Kitty on his
sleeping head, then grabbed her coat and led the way outside.

Ace stored her box in the back of his pickup, because the
rain had let up, and jogged around to open her door. He might not be a
church-going man, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a gentleman. His mother did
teach him a few things before he’d gotten the hell out of there and joined the
service.

“I really do appreciate the help, but after this you
don’t need to stick around, okay?” Cece said.

He could feel her eyes boring into him, but he wasn’t
about to leave her alone. Rocco had told him the ballistics report had come back
this morning, and the bullet used to kill the senator had come from an M16A2 assault
rifle. That weapon was a military-issued gun, not something a simple hunter
could buy. She had information; therefore, she wasn’t safe.

“You’re
welcome, and I don’t mind,” he said. “My partner is handling the rest of our
caseload, and my sole job is to focus on you. If I leave, I won’t have anything
to do, Sister. Have mercy on me, would ya? Besides,
what if you get into trouble and need me to save you?”

“You don’t need mercy; you need to cleanse your soul. In
fact, I think you should go to confession.
You
are the one in need of saving. It will probably take a week to confess all your
sins, but you’ll feel much better when you’re done.”

Confession?
Not in this lifetime
, he thought. “I
don’t need saving, and even if I did, your clinic is more my speed.”

She gave him the same look Sister Mary Ethel used on him,
like she could see right through him. “Trust me; you look like you need a full priest.
Someone much more experienced, like Father Flannigan. He’ll steer you down the
right path.” She patted Ace’s arm, again making him feel like a child.

How the hell had the conversation turned from him saving
her life to her saving his soul?

Before he
could utter a single protest, she glanced out the window and said, “Oh, look—here
we are. You can drop me off at the curb, and I’ll be on my way.”

He stared up at the rundown excuse for a building.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Whoever
donated this building to her wasn’t looking out for her best interest,—that was
for damn sure. He made a mental note to check out that lead. “Drop you off? Not
a chance. I’m not leaving you alone until I see for myself that it’s safe. You
need all new locks, among other things, in this dive if I’m ever going to be
able to protect you.”