Free A Novena for Murder by Carol Anne O'Marie Page A

out.
    Stiff-backed and precise, O’Donnell led the two nuns into a narrow, battleship-gray visiting room. Its only decoration was a No Smoking sign in both English and Spanish. A long counter and a glass wall reinforced with chicken wire divided the room in two, making it look even narrower.
    “Sit here, Sisters.” Unsmiling, O’Donnell pulled out two worn chairs near a set of phones. There was a phone on either side of the glass wall. “I’ll get da Silva,” he said. The heavy keys hanging from his wide leather belt jangled as he walked.
    “If this doesn’t look like something straight out of a Humphrey Bogart movie,” Eileen said, fidgeting uneasily, “I don’t know what does.”
    Before Mary Helen could answer, “You said it, sweetheart,” the heavy iron door clanged open. Reluctantly, Leonel entered the visiting room and sank into the hard chair opposite the nuns. His appearance shocked Mary Helen. The tall, muscular body looked almost caved in. The shadow of unshaven whiskers emphasized the blue-black circles puffed under his eyes. His clothes were wrinkled. Even that curly head of hair was matted.
    Leonel looked as if he hadn’t slept all night.Mary Helen searched his drawn face for a hint of his usual sunny disposition. At this point, she would even have settled for finding a touch of anger. What she couldn’t stand was the look she saw—one of a man who had all but given up hope.
    Sullenly, Leonel picked up the phone.
    “Hello, Leonel.” Mary Helen pressed the cold receiver to her ear. “How are you?” she asked, trying to make her voice sound cheerful.
    “Fine, Sister,” Leonel answered, without raising his eyes.
    “Can we do anything for you?” No response. “Is there anything you need or want?” Still, no response, although this time Leonel raised his eyes briefly. Mary Helen caught the hint of tears in his large, dark eyes. Her hand touched the cold glass wall. She wanted so badly to hug him.
    “How is my Marina?” he asked, after a long pause.
    “She’s fine. Upset, of course.” Although Mary Helen had not spoken to Marina herself, she had seen the young woman walking around the campus with Sister Anne just before supper last evening.
    Anne hadn’t taken the time to change her jeans, but had just thrown her corduroy car coat over them. Her hands had been thrust deep into her pockets. Even from a distance, Mary Helen could see a grim expression shrouding the young nun’s usually peaceful face.
    Marina had hovered close to her, a fur-collared coat enveloping her thin, straight body. The turned-upcollar hid her face. Everything about the pair said “upset.” “Upset” was probably a classic understatement of what Marina was feeling. Poor kid! Who wouldn’t be upset? First finding the professor’s body, then learning her sister was missing, and now her boyfriend being held for questioning.
    “She’s upset,” Mary Helen repeated. Leonel raised his brown eyes and studied her face. “But she knows you’re innocent.” That should make him feel better.
    “Did she say I am-a innocent?” Leonel’s dark eyes snapped. Mary Helen caught what she thought might be a hint of fear. That was strange. Obviously, he had misunderstood her.
    “I didn’t really talk to Marina.” Mary Helen spoke slowly and distinctly.
    “You needn’t shout.” Eileen touched Mary Helen’s forearm. “He may not understand English very well, but he’s not deaf.”
    Modulating her voice, Mary Helen continued, “But I’m sure she knows you didn’t kill the professor.”
    “Why do you say that, Sister?” He seemed to be afraid. What on earth was wrong with him?
    “Because she knows you, and she loves you. Anyone who knows and loves you would realize that you are too fine a young man to kill.” Slowly, color began to rise in Leonel’s cheeks. His face contorted. Was it hatred she saw? How could it be? What had she said wrong? Hadn’t she just assured him his girl friend thought he was