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

innocent?
    “Sister.” His voice was as cold and cutting as finesteel. “Any young man would consider it an honor to have killed that bloodsucker! It would have been an honor to have killed the animal with Dom Sebastiao’s image.”
    Leonel stared at Mary Helen. She stared back, not knowing what to say. The phone connection made a monotonous hum. Beside her she could hear Eileen suck in air, then wriggle uncomfortably.
    With a sudden bang, the iron door behind Leonel clanged open. O’Donnell reappeared. Strangely, Mary Helen felt rescued. He laid his hands on Leonel’s square shoulders. The young man slumped forward as though the air had been punched out of him.
    Carefully, Mary Helen replaced the phone receiver in its cradle. Well, you were hoping he’d show a bit of fight, she reminded herself. She and Eileen stood. With forced smiles, they waved as O’Donnell led Leonel away.
    Marina and Leonel baffled Mary Helen. What was it she sensed in the couple? Fear? Rage? A certain shrewdness? She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. But it seemed that whenever she ran into them, she had that same uncanny feeling of having stumbled over something without having the slightest idea what it was.
    Then there were Leonel’s sudden changes of mood. His emotions seemed almost hair-triggered.
    “Eileen,” Mary Helen said when they reached the door of the elevator. “I have a confession to make. I knew what the fourth ‘L’ was all along.”
    Eileen shook her head. “It wasn’t lunacy as I suspected,” she said, a twinkle in her gray eyes. Mary Helen ignored the remark. “Furthermore,” Eileen continued, “I knew full well you were stalling.”
    “You did?”
    “Of course no one can keep track of every counter that’s been played during a whole evening of pinochle, old dear, and forget the fourth ‘L.’ ” She winked. “Unless, of course, one wants to. Why did you pretend?”
    “Well, Leonel seems to have hated the professor so. Yet I know in my bones he didn’t kill the man. And I don’t want anyone else to think he did.”
    “Could I have that, one more time?”
    “The fourth ‘L.’ It might seem as if Leonel has it.”
    “For the love of all that is good and holy, Mary Helen, what is the fourth ‘L’? ”
    Mary Helen breathed deeply. She ignored the feeling of dread that overcame her. “It’s loathing,” she said. Beside her, she felt Eileen shudder.
    By the time the two nuns arrived home from the Hall of Justice, the college dining room was deserted. Checking her watch, Eileen decided to grab an apple and run back to her library. “Just in case,” she said.
    Mary Helen was glad to be alone. She needed time to sit quietly, eat, and plot her afternoon, although she was tempted to ask Eileen about her being in the library “just in case” of what? What more could possibly happen?
    To avoid any talkative stragglers, Mary Helen chose a corner table with her back to the dining room and a view of the well-manicured campus. She had been so preoccupied she hadn’t noticed that the dense morning fog had finally burned off. Only one long, narrow roll still clung tenaciously to the top span of the Golden Gate Bridge.
    A brave autumn sun was trying hard to pierce the mackerel sky and warm the city. Its optimism raised Mary Helen’s spirits. As surely as the sun did shine, she knew she’d get to the bottom of this murder business. Of course, the first thing she’d need would be a plan—a logical, well-thought-out plan. Was it Shakespeare who had said something about logic being the “scarecrow of fools and the beacon of the wise"? Or was it Huxley? Mary Helen could never remember which one—or the exact quote, for that matter—but the point was clear. Logic was needed. And what could be more logical than a stop by Sister Anne’s office to see exactly what the young nun had been talking about to Marina?
    Yes, indeed, she’d pursue the logical course, but not before she threw the little bit of salt