Merry Sister Mary: Two Can Play That Game

26: Sister Mary and the Final Clue

Gina leaned back in her wheelchair and stared at me over the steam wafting from her cup. We shared a moment of silence; both analyzing the other as powerful queens on a chessboard do when the game comes to its final turn.

"Well," said Gina, her age spotted fingers gripping the handle as she brought the cup to the saucer in her lap. "You did call me out for murder. But why go through all that when all you wanted was one-on-one time with me?"

"I needed your trust. I needed you to know that I had all the answers. I know what you seek and you won't get it from Jenny."

"I see," said the old woman with a chuckle in her throat. "So you are like the press said, a nun with a knack for mystery. What gave me away?"

"A hunch mostly," I said confidently, "but rest assured, my evidence is on its way."

"Oh there has to be something else," cried the old woman in excitement. "To think I had it all planned out. What did I overlook?"

I shook my wrist and pointed.

"Your charm bracelet is quite beautiful. Interesting how one charm became two. Most killers keep trophies, but not all keep them so close to their person."

Gina ran her fingers over two silver camellia blossoms dangling from her bracelet.

"Very observant," she said.

"Those charms were once two necklaces worn by two prominant members of the Wickman family. Ann wasn't killed by her children. Jenny didn't murder Jacqueline or Diana. It was you who did it all."

"And how could I? I'm a cripple."

"There are other ways to kill, but we will get into that later. First I want to get all the information laid out on the table."

Gina tapped her finger on the rim of the cup.

"I'll let you talk, but if you got something wrong, I'll let you know."

"What if I tell the police?"

"You already told them what they want. Convincing them otherwise will be that much harder. Besides this conversation is between you and I, Sister. Any misstep and I will have my son remove those funds he so graciously gave to your charity. Your little nun friends will be homeless and the hero you were painted to be will be all a lie. Would you really risk your nunnery to put an old woman like me away?"

"You underestimate me, Mrs. Maddox."

"And perhaps I do, but right now I hold the outcome to this game. And I see it landing in my favor."

I took another sip of my tea.

"Then let me start from the beginning." I cracked my neck and shook my arms preparing myself for a long explanation. I began. "The Maddox family and the Wickman family share a dark past, a past that has nothing to do with vampires. That whole supernatural ploy was a diversion to throw weak minded individuals off course. Genus really. I worked on my sisters quite well. The real secret lies in a book I found detailing the genealogy and history of New Orleans' most influential families. I read that while the Wickman family owned many great industrial businesses around the turn of the century, your family was part of the working class. An accident happened in the late 1920s that ended in the death of a mother and child in one of the Wickman's factories. The accident as it was determined was so horrific it made headlines and helped spark debates in better work conditions and child labor laws across the country. I assume the husband who lost part of his family in that accident wanted revenge. So he entered the Wickman's backyard and shot the man he believed was responsible. That murderer was your father."