Free The Corporal Works of Murder by Carol Anne O'Marie Page B

been as haunted by Sarah’s murder as she had been.
    It wasn’t until Sister Anne and she had picked up the dayold doughnuts and were nearly at the center that she realized just how drastically the women’s lives actually were being affected by the murder of this young officer.
    â€œLook at the police.” Anne pointed out the car window. They had turned off Geary Boulevard and were making their way down Jones Street. Police officers were everywhere.
    â€œIt’s must be some kind of sweep,” Mary Helen said, watching pairs of uniformed patrolmen circuiting the streets, stopping people. A number of cars that obviously did not belong in the neighborhood were parked along the curb.
    â€œIt looks like a scene right out of a police drama,” Mary Helen said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think they were filming.”
    â€œNash Bridges maybe,” Anne said.
    More like NYPD Blue, Mary Helen thought, but let it go.
    A knot of women stood in the front doorway of the Refuge when the two nuns arrived. “You late, girlfriend,” Miss Bobbie called, “and we needs our coffee this morning.” The scar around her right eye twitched.
    Venus smiled her one-tooth-missing smile. “We sure do,” she said with a shiver.
    â€œWhat’s going on around here?” Anne asked, unlocking the front door.
    Tiny Peanuts held the door back so that the two nuns could
go in and start the coffee. “You don’t want to know,” she said, but that didn’t seem to stop her from telling them. “Them polices are all over asking questions, picking up peoples with warrants, hassling you for jay-walking, asking if you seen any thing—”
    â€œDid you?” Mary Helen asked.
    â€œIf I did, I ain’t telling,” Peanuts said.
    Miss Bobbie sat down at her usual place at her usual table with a cup of coffee and two sugar doughnuts. “It’s that policewoman got herself shot,” she said. “It wouldn’t make no matter if one of us be shot. They’d just go on, business as usual.”
    â€œI don’t think that’s true,” Mary Helen said. “I’m sure the police are very concerned no matter who is killed. Look how quickly they solved Melanie’s murder.”
    For a moment Miss Bobbie looked as if she might argue. Instead she shrugged. “That’s’cause you got into it,” she said. “You going to get into this one, too?”
    Mary Helen stopped short. She couldn’t believe Miss Bobbie had asked that question. Was it just a coincidence or was her question somehow providential? Was it some sort of sign? One look at Anne’s face and Mary Helen knew that she’d better not go there—at least, not out loud.
    â€œMorning, you all.” It was Geraldine. Mary Helen was glad to see her. Something Geraldine had said yesterday was bothering her.
    â€œI can’t stay long,” Geraldine said, pouring herself a cup of coffee and dumping in four teaspoons of sugar. “I can’t stay long,” she repeated, sitting down at the table with Miss Bobbie.
    Almost at once several groups of women came through the door. Soon the Refuge was crowded and Mary Helen was busy giving out shower rolls, replenishing the donuts, making more pots of coffee, and answering the telephone. Unfortunately, one of the calls was from the morning volunteer saying that after yesterday’s murder, her husband was too afraid to let her come
down. Men, Mary Helen thought, hurrying to call a substitute. Judy, who happily was not busy, promised to be there in twenty minutes and she was.
    At the first break in the action, Mary Helen found an empty chair beside Geraldine.
    â€œWhat’s happening, Sister?” the woman’s dark eyes looked wary. “You all right?”
    â€œI was just wondering—”
    â€œâ€™Bout what?”
    â€œAbout something you said yesterday,