Devious by Lisa Jackson Read Free Book Online Page B

before.”
    “No, I know. . . . It was different than that, but . . .” She looked close to tears and blinked. “Hard to explain.”
    “But, in the chapel, you did hear a door close over the sound of the midnight bells tolling?” Amos persisted, not one to be put off by anything, even female tears.
    Lucia seemed flustered. And scared as hell. “It seems that way.”
    Not exactly firm testimony, Montoya thought. He’d never really known Lucia, though one of her older brothers, Pedro, had been in his class at school. What was it about her that Cruz had found so intriguing? Not just her looks, but a bit of ESP or something. But maybe Cruz made that up. Montoya’s younger and wilder brother had been known to tell more than his share of lies.
    They asked a few more questions to piece together the chain of events and time frame; then Montoya and Bentz left Amos to wrap things up.
    “Pretty,” Bentz mentioned. “What happened between her and your brother?”
    “Car wreck. Cruz was at the wheel. Nearly killed them both.” But there was more to the story, Montoya thought; he just didn’t know it, had been off at college when the accident had occurred.
    They met up with the mother superior in the hallway near the chapel, where she was being interviewed by one of the uniformed officers.
    Sister Charity’s voice was hushed and well modulated despite the tragedy. In the dim candlelight, her face seemed far more youthful than the sixty years she claimed to be as she responded to Montoya. “I already told one of your officers, Ms. Erwin, here, everything I know.” Her words, though spoken softly, were underlaid with a thread of steel.
    “We’re going to need to interview everyone in the building,” Officer Erwin said.
    The older woman shook her head slowly. “Everyone was asleep. I can’t see what good waking them will do.”
    “They might have heard something. Or maybe someone was up, passing through the hallway on the way to the restroom. There’s a chance someone saw something,” Randi Erwin insisted. “Or maybe one of the residents could shed some light on motive for killing Sister Camille.”
    “Oh.” The mother superior crossed herself, as if suddenly realizing the magnitude of the tragedy. “I’ll talk to each of them,” the reverend mother offered. “Father Paul will offer them guidance—”
    “It’s not about guidance,” Montoya said crisply as he wondered if the woman was being intentionally obtuse. “Before you speak to them, we need to interview them.”
    “All of them?” She seemed surprised.
    Montoya nodded. “We want to talk with anyone who lives here and anyone who may have been on the property tonight. They’ll need to give their statements to officers.”
    Erwin said, “And I’ll need more information on the victim.”
    “We’re a very private order.” Sister Charity frowned. A roadblock.
    “With one of your own dead? Murdered. I’d say that overrules privacy.” Barely thirty, Randi Erwin was tough, a small, wiry woman who wore little makeup and kept her brown hair cut short and feathery. Once a gymnast in college, she was now a martial arts expert and took no guff, not from older guys in the department who tended to tease her and not from this imperious nun. “I’ll need a list of the victim’s friends. Can you think of anyone who held a grudge against her?”
    “There are no enemies here.” The older nun threaded her fingers in resignation, finally getting it that the police weren’t just going away.
    Bentz snorted. “Surely you don’t believe that. People are people; they make others angry, hold grudges, seek revenge, whatever. A lot of wars have been waged in the name of religion.”
    She bristled. “Not here.”
    “Why is she dressed in that dress?”
    “I have no idea.”
    “Where did she get it?”
    The reverend mother’s eyebrows drew together. “I don’t know,” she said, just as Officer Chris Conway approached.
    “The press is here,” the officer