Nun of That (A Deadly Habit Cozy Mystery, Book 1) (5 page)

“You have a fear of cats,” Gemma explained.

“Oh honey, you really shouldn't make up words. It just confuses people,” Bunny said, as she shuffled over to shake my hand. “It was a lovely evening, Rose. How about we do this again sometime? My house, though. Well Dave’s house, that is.” Her eyes widened as Bernard squalled even louder, angry at being ignored in his little prison. “See you later. Busy, busy, busy. Gotta start the store bright and early.”

“Well, she's a special bunny, isn't she?” Janet said carefully as the door slammed behind Bunny. She wiped at a stain on her shirt.

“Coming from the human rabbit,” Gemma quipped.

“Oh shush. Rose, I’ll help you clean the floor.” Janet rolled her eyes at Gemma and started to mop up. “But seriously. Thinking that Dave ran a laundromat? Dave?”

I frowned and tried to figure that one out. Why would Bunny think Dave ran a laundromat? That didn't even begin to make sense.

Unless? I slapped my forehead. Oh no, surely not Dave. Bunny just had to be confused. Dave didn't launder anything, certainly not clothes, and surely not money.

Chapter Seven
.

When the alarm clock sounded and startled me from my slumber, I rubbed my eyes and squinted in an attempt to see the time. It was only 6 a.m. Today was the monthly auction at Phillips & Sons, a second-hand auction house located in the next town, about an hour away.

The auction house sold everything from collectibles and books, to fossils and rare memorabilia, but I wasn’t going there for such things. I took the drive once a month to hunt for bargains, particularly wooden furniture I could repurpose.

An old, plain but solid pine bookcase would come up a treat with a dark tint on the top, and the rest painted with chalk paint. Sure, some of the pieces would require more work than others to restore and refurbish, but some pieces of furniture sold cheaply simply because they were dirty or covered in layers of dust.

The drive to Phillips & Sons should have been enjoyable that morning. The sun hung high in the light blue sky and there was not a cloud to be seen. Yet, I couldn’t help but think of Dave and the recent events that had unfolded, and I wondered if his murder would ever be solved.

I pulled into the parking lot of the auction house, and saw with a sinking stomach that the place was more crowded than usual. I hoped they weren’t all here to buy with an eye to repurposing furniture. With a big sigh, I locked my car and headed into the building.

The first person I saw was Paul Hammond, a local antiques dealer. No one knew how old Paul actually was. He was rumored to be in his late seventies, but he looked at least twenty years younger. Paul nodded at the hordes of people lined up for the auction. “I wonder what the attraction is today?”

I shrugged. “No idea, but I hope they’re not looking for what I’m looking for.” I looked around at some of the furniture, and my eyes fell upon a large, wooden chest that was sitting behind an antique credenza. I walked over to get a better look. It wasn’t too old, so wouldn’t attract the antiques buyers, and had clearly seen better days, but if I could get it at a cheap price, it would sell well once I’d upcycled it. My only concern was the large, iron lock attached to the lid. “I wonder if this thing has even been opened in the last decade,” I said aloud.

“It’s the first sign, you know.”

I looked up to see Paul Hammond standing next to me. “What is?’ I asked, puzzled.

“Talking to yourself. It’s the first sign of madness.”

I laughed. “I’m probably onto the fifth sign by now; I talk to myself all the time. Anything here you have your eye on?”

He nodded. “There’s a Victorian cedar meat safe, but look who’s here.” He gestured to the far wall, toward the Mangolds, a mother and son team of secondhand dealers from the nearest large town. The Mangolds had quite the reputation. Most things in their store were horrendously overpriced. They would typically put the ridiculous price of twenty dollars on a cracked, modern plate, whereas a thrift store wouldn’t even put such a plate on sale for five cents, but would just throw it in the trash. However, the Mangolds had no eye for antiques, and sometimes a real bargain could be found in their store, and at a very cheap price. There was no rhyme or reason to their pricing.

Despite the prospect of a bargain, I rarely went to their store, as the son always followed me around and stood way too close. He creeped me out, big time.

The Mangolds were not consistent in their bidding. Sometimes, it seemed that they wanted to outbid people just for the sake of it. I’d fallen victim to them, as had Paul. I supposed everyone had. The one good thing was that they didn’t attend auctions regularly.

After a good look around, and armed with notes I’d made in my catalog, I headed to take my seat at the back of the middle section of chairs. From my vantage point, the auctioneer would see me easily, and I would be able to see most people who were bidding.

I was soon lost in concentration as the auction began. I was outbid on the chest by the Mangolds, but I did manage to buy a solid, wooden chest of drawers, a solid pine closet, and a kitchen dresser, all for a song. I hadn’t been planning to bid on the kitchen dresser, as it wasn’t in the best of condition. It was probably Edwardian era, and had not been cared for. It had lost its original doors, but still had the hinges attached to the frame. There was a vertical crack which ran the length of the piece, right in the middle. It had also been painted within an inch of its life, many times over. However, no one bid on it, not even the Mangolds, so I got it for twenty dollars. I hoped it wasn’t riddled with furniture borer, for it should have sold for more than that, despite its condition.

I had already secured the items on my list, but needed to arrange delivery before I could head home. My stomach growled, and I yawned. It was then that I saw the nun. She was slumped deep in a chair on the far side of the auction room, her head covering pulled around her face.

The nun was in full traditional habit, and I wondered if she was the nun I had seen running from Dave’s that morning. She was certainly the right build, unless her habit had huge shoulder pads sewn into it. The nun hadn’t bid on anything - or had she? I couldn’t be sure. She didn’t look too interested in the proceedings. Why was she there?

As I watched the nun, she suddenly sat upright in her chair, so I looked back over at the auctioneer to see the current item for sale. It was a thick, gold chain, which the auctioneer said weighed thirty grams and was 18 karat.

The price climbed rapidly, but not once did the nun bid. Why was she so interested in this item? During the entire bidding war, she hadn't taken her eyes off the chain for a moment. Even those who were trying to win it seemed to be less concerned by the outcome.

The second chain did not sell for as much as the first, but still attracted eager bidding. Eventually, six chains were sold in total, all 18 karat and of good weight. I looked at the notes I’d made on my catalog and added up the sum on my iPhone’s calculator. $16,250. The nun had not made one bid, but was on the edge of her seat the whole time.

Once the gavel went down and the last item was sold, what was left of the audience made for the exits. Buyers hung back, and I, for one, had to arrange delivery of my purchases. I made my way to the office, hoping to beat what was sure to be a long queue, when out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement from the direction of the nun.

I turned around, but the nun wasn’t there. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen.

I paid for my purchases at the desk, and arranged delivery for the following Tuesday. The woman behind the desk always had a surly expression on her face. I’d been coming here for years, and her manner hadn’t changed. “May I ask you a question?” I asked, realizing that I just had.

She looked up, frowning. “Yes, what it is?” she snapped.

“The nun who was sitting over against the right wall - does she come here often?”

“What nun?” she said, standing and peering over her desk.

“Well, she’s not here now,” I said, “But she was here for the whole auction.”

“I didn’t see a nun,” the woman barked at me. “Next!”

I took that as my cue to leave.

On my way home, my excitement over my purchases was overshadowed by my puzzlement over the nun. She was the same build as the nun who had knocked me down that day. In the whole time I’d been attending local auctions, I had never once seen Sister Bertrand, or any other nun, in attendance. Why was that nun there?

Chapter Eight
.

I walked into my regular coffee shop to see Adam seated at a table in the back corner of the small room, with two cups of coffee in front of him. As I approached, he looked up from his smartphone and smiled. “Good morning.”

I sat across from him. “Thanks for the coffee. How’s your book going?”

He shrugged. “It’s coming along,” he said, glancing back down at his phone. “I think I’m onto something, but I’m still not sure.”

“Well, perhaps if you tell me what specifically you’re here reporting on, I could help in some way.” My real motive for asking was my own driving curiosity.

Adam looked back up at me and smiled. “I appreciate the sentiment, but what I’m investigating is a convoluted mess. You don’t want to get dragged too far into this; I’m already deeper in it than I should be.”

I let out a long sigh of disappointment. “Isn’t there a likelihood that I’ve already been dragged into it? It obviously involves Dave or the town somehow, right?”

It was his turn to sigh. “Okay, I suppose you have a point. Remember, I told you that I’m writing a book on the Shadow Gang?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

“I suppose you’ve heard of them?” Without waiting for me to answer, he continued. “They’re armed robbers, bank robbers specifically, and they target safe deposit boxes. They were finally caught, but all six of them remained tight lipped about where the loot was stashed. They were all convicted and given lengthy sentences. They were on their way to Long Bay Maximum Security prison in Sydney, when they all somehow escaped.” Adam paused, and sipped from his cup.

I nodded. “Yes, it was all over TV at the time -
A Current Affair
,
Sixty Minutes
- you name it. The whole news at the time was full of it. So they were never caught, the second time I mean, after they escaped?”

Adam shook his head. “No, they’re still at large. There’s been a nation wide manhunt for them since. My best sources brought me here, but I’m a very long way from having anything that even resembles concrete evidence.”

I was about to ask another question, when I was distracted by a young child seated with a sibling of around the same age and their father at the front table, which was against the coffee shop window. The child had just spilled food on the floor, and was now throwing a tantrum and holding his hands against the glass window. I held my breath. “Wait for it,” I said to Adam in a low tone. “There’ll be a show.”

“What do you mean?”

Right at that moment, the lady who owned the coffee shop ran out from behind the counter, armed with a damp rag, a bottle of cleaning spray, and an enraged grimace. “Get that child out of here if you can’t control it!” she yelled at the man, who was too busy looking shocked to react. “If your kids have no manners, don’t take them out in public!”

The man grabbed the two children and left the coffee shop in a hurry, muttering to himself.

The coffee shop lady was likewise muttering to herself, but more loudly. She sprayed the window to remove the grubby finger marks plastered all over it. “Bill,” she yelled, “leave that coffee machine and clean this table!”

Her husband, Bill, hurried out, and removed the plates and the mess of scattered food that the children had left, and then scurried away, while his wife turned her attention to scrubbing the table. Bill returned with a cordless vacuum cleaner, and went backward and forward over the floor.

As Fran, the owner, walked past me, she said, “You know, Rose, I can’t stand the buying public. The non-buying public is even worse.”

I nodded in sympathy. I often had difficult customers.

When they both went back behind the counter, Adam leaned over to me. “She was scary,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

I laughed. “That was nothing. Once a screaming child took the menu out of its glass case and took it into the bathroom. That was interesting.” I said it with humor, though the memory still haunted me.

Adam smiled. “I bet.”

“Anyway, I’m confused,” I continued. “Why did you come here looking for Dave? What does he have to do with the Shadow Gang?”

Adam frowned, and I thought for a minute he was going to refuse to tell me. “Honestly, I wanted to talk to Dave because I happened upon some evidence that suggested he might have been acting as their fence.”

I gasped. “You think he was selling the stolen jewelry for that gang?”

Adam nodded. “The problem I have now is that he’s not here to answer any questions about it. I’ve been working to try to find some kind of motive they would have had for killing him, but I’m just not sure what it could be. Why would they kill their own fence?”

I bit my lip and tried to think of reasons why a gang of robbers would murder Dave, especially if he was helping them sell their stolen goods. Something had to have happened between them. “Maybe Dave cheated them, or something,” I suggested.

“Yes,” Adam said. “That’s all that would make sense. What if Dave was indeed acting as their fence, but once they got caught and had to escape, he decided to skim a little bit more off the top for himself?”

I shook my head. “I always thought Dave was a really sweet man; I never pictured him as criminal.”

Adam shrugged. “You know, criminals often look like normal people; they don’t go around with the word
criminal
tattooed on their forehead. Haven’t you ever watched the news where reporters are interviewing the neighbors of someone who has just been arrested, and the neighbors always say that the person was a nice, helpful neighbor?”

“I suppose,” I said in agreement, though I still had trouble picturing Dave as a criminal.

“Perhaps he needed some extra money,” Adam continued. “I don’t know if he’d be brazen enough to try cutting further into their profits, but it’s impossible to know what a person will do when they’re forced to make difficult choices.”

I nodded.

“Okay. So, what do we know for a fact?” he continued. “We know Dave was murdered, and I suspect he was their fence. At any rate, the cops haven’t found the gang, so they must have a very good hiding place.”

“This might sound farfetched,” I ventured, “but maybe the new nuns are sheltering them or something. Do nuns shelter criminals? I think they did in the olden days.”

“That doesn’t sound all that farfetched,” Adam admitted. “To be honest, I was actually thinking the same thing. You had mentioned that the nun you saw that morning was wearing gym shoes and ran from the pawn shop, and that was a red flag to me, and anyone else who would believe the story, I suppose. Then, during our visit to the convent, you saw a nun with hairy legs, and that definitely furthered my belief in the idea that the nuns weren’t what they seemed to be.”

I was both puzzled and intrigued at the same time. “What do you mean?”

Adam leaned closer to me. “I think the nuns are men,” he whispered.

“Men?” I shrieked, and Fran shot me a look.

I grimaced and lowered my voice. “You think the nuns are men? Not nuns, but men?” I asked, trying to take it all in.

Adam nodded. “Think about it,” he said. “You saw a nun running from the scene. You saw a nun with hairy legs. I assume that means the nun’s habit was short?”

“Yes,” I said, still reeling from the shock. “Ill fitting, calf length.”

Adam nodded again. “It all makes sense. Nuns’ habits are floor length; they certainly don’t show calves. And it is strange that the nuns are wearing shoes, considering their order is discalced.”

“But Sister Maria said that it was only in the old days.”

Adam rubbed his chin. “Perhaps. But what if the novice nuns are actually the Shadow Gang members? What a perfect place to hide away, in a convent. That would explain why they are wearing traditional habits, to disguise the fact that they’re men.”

“Oh, and I forgot to tell you; there was a nun at the auction the other day,” I said.

Adam raised his eyebrows. “What? There was a nun at the auction?”

“Yes,” I said. “But she didn’t bid once.”

“That’s probably because the nun wasn’t there to buy anything. If we’re right about the gangsters hiding out, maybe that nun was there for a different reason. But, what would bank robbers be doing at an auction?”

I shook my head. “Do you really think a gang of notorious robbers would hide out in a convent and pretend to be nuns?” I asked. It seemed ridiculous. More ridiculous than this situation had been before, at any rate.

Adam took another sip of his coffee before responding. “Well, like I just said, it’s impossible to know how far someone will go when they have to make these kinds of tough choices.”

“What about the Reverend Mother, though? Wouldn’t she have noticed that the nuns are men? We’re outsiders to them, yet we were still able to see the differences in how they’ve been acting.”

“Hmm, that’s another valid point. Do you think there’s a chance she might be in on it? If Dave was willing to help them for a cut, would it be so wrong to think a nun would be willing to do so, too?”

The thought didn’t sit well with me. “I sincerely doubt it. I think it’s very unlikely that any person so devoted to their religion would commit such a sin. Is it possible? Yes, of course. Almost anything is, but do I think she’s in on it somehow? No, I certainly do not.”

“Okay, but like you just said: how would six convicted felons infiltrate a convent to hide out, without alerting the woman who is in charge of it? Do you honestly think they could fool her this long?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know the daily happenings in a convent; I’m not even Catholic. For all we know, Sister Maria might not actually interact with the novice nuns much at all. I just don’t think she’d be in on it. My heart doesn’t want to believe it,” I added. “First Dave’s unfortunate demise, and now all of this is happening.”

Adam smiled. “Well, I understand that. You’re probably right; it’s just so difficult to know what people will or won’t do. If Reverend Mother isn’t involved and isn’t even aware, then she could be in danger,” he added, his smile fading. “If we’re barking up the right tree here, that means a helpless nun is all alone in a convent with up to six hardened criminals.” 

The thought sent chills down my spine. “Do you actually think they would harm a nun?”

“If they killed Dave for crossing them, I don’t think they’re above doing anything to anyone,” Adam said.

“Well, then whatever it is that we’re going to do next, we probably should do it soon.”

Adam appeared lost in thought for a while. “You said you saw a nun at the auction, right?” he asked, after several moments had passed. “Well, maybe our next step is finding out why that nun was there. Maybe we should go back to the auction house, together. We can ask around and see if that nun asked any questions or spoke to anyone at the auction that day. If we can figure out what they’re up to, maybe we can also find a way to stop them before their plans come to fruition.”

I nodded.

“We just need to keep our heads low and be careful about how we approach this.”

I looked down at my cup and frowned. “I understand. I won’t say anything to anyone, but we need to act quickly. I’m worried about the Reverend Mother now, and about the town in general. Those men are dangerous; you said so yourself.”

“Yes, they are, but we’re not going to let them hurt anyone else. Tomorrow, we can head to that auction house and see if we can’t snoop around and find out why that nun was there.”