Merry Sister Mary: Two Can Play That Game

18: Sister Mary, A Patron of Plunder and Profit

The funeral ended with Jacqueline Wickman being lowered in a coffin covered in camellia flowers. Very few individuals cried, Gina Maddox being the loudest of them all. A chilly autumn breeze twisted through the cemetery causing me to press my ankles together and wrap my arms about my body. Louisiana was not a place known for cold but this particularly odd chill turned an already cold and drab place into something bewitching.

I admired the elaborate tombs and statues, but it was the one gracing the outside of the Wickman tomb that intrigued me the most. I waited until all the mourners had said their final farewells before I stepped closer. A statue of a woman, not an angel, stood by the names engraved on the tomb. She held her head high to the sky in a silent prayer while carved flowers fell across her body.

Jenny stood by the longest, quietly observing the men fill the pit with dirt. She rubbed her wrists with terrible nervousness and grimaced as Nathan came to retrieve her. Eventually Sophia spoke breaking the otherwise placid atmosphere.

"That was a lovely funeral," she said cupping her hands. "Father Filbert always knows the exact words to say."

"Did you notice how Jenny was reacting?" I asked changing the subject.

"She seemed a bit off, not quite the same girl from the other night."

"Exactly," I said. "And if my suspicions are correct, I have a feeling she is about to do something drastic."

The nuns of St. Clare's and I spent the rest of the afternoon prepping for the big festival tomorrow. A group of parishioners came to help set up tables in the courtyard. Sister Mabel worked diligently in the kitchen making jambalaya, pot roast, potato salad, and sweet potato pie. Sister Nora sat in the crafting room twisting her fingers madly around crochet needles. By her feet were boxes of scarves, hats, booties for babies, and turtleneck sweaters. Sister Carter danced about her room laying about the jewelry she had made. I could see crosses of twisted copper wire inlaid with precious stones, rosaries of all colors, and the occasional St. Christopher medal dangling from a sterling silver chain. Sister Aster sat at a small white table covered in paint splotches. She carefully put the final touches on her hand painted ornaments. One ornament showed a trolley car, another an image of Jackson Square, and finally the most iconic symbol of New Orleans, the fleur-de-lis. Sister Beth had finished her projects early and stood by admiring her many tiny models of buildings. Then finally, Sister Sophia had sewn together many quilts over the year, each one covered in different geometric patterns. She asked for my help in folding them. Needless to say everyone had something planned, but no one expected what I had waiting to arrive in the early morning.

...

The sun arose to a perfect October day. Halloween was only a few days away, and for the Catholics, all souls day. Excitement drifted through the halls of St. Clares. Even Mother Ariel was in high spirits.

"Sisters, sisters," she announced during our morning meeting in the chapel. "Today is our big day for the community. As you know part of today's proceeds will be donated to the poor, hungry, and to the children's hospital down the road. Of course some of those funds will also be for us to stay afloat for another year." Mother Ariel got teary eyed. "I'm so proud of all of you. You have all done wonderfully preparing your god-given talents for this day. May the lord shine on us." She looked up while unclasping her hands. "Oh and let us also thank our newest member, Sister Mary, for taking charge in spreading the word about our event." There was a soft clap among the sisters. "Now let us lower our heads in prayer."

We all lowered our heads, but the silence was short lived. Suddenly a loud series of knocking rapped on the chapel door and the hoots and hollers of men and women crowded the calm air.

"What ever could that be?" asked Mother Ariel as she approached the exit. Instantly upon opening the thick wooden doors she was greeted to the gayest sight imaginable. Men skimpily dressed and women in tight shirts and short shorts filled the outside gates. They cheered and held up signs as Mother Ariel poked her head out. The signs said Save the Sisters, Gays and Lesbians for God and Good Tidings, Car Wash for the Clares, and finally a sign saying, Merry Sister Mary Patron Saint of New Orleans with a drawing of me jumping for joy. Mother Ariel arched her back and squeezed her hands into fists. "Sister Mary," she whispered calmly while shutting the door, "what did you do?"

"I did what you asked," I said grinning from ear to ear. "I brought the community together. Just you wait and see."

Again another round of cheers filled the air as tv crews and journalists crowded the streets along with a parade of cars waiting to park or better yet get that well-to-do car wash. By now we had all exited the chapel just in time to see the mayor of New Orleans and Senator Wickman's car drive up.

Mother Ariel stood struck by an overwhelming sense of confusion and anger as Senator Wickman entered the gates with the mayor and stood on the steps with the sisters and I. Both walked up to me and shook my hand. Camera flashes hit us from every angle.

"Good morning, people of New Orleans," said the mayor. "Today we honor not just a special part of our diverse community but also to honor a special person who without her, our beloved Senator Wickman would not be here today."

Perhaps I should have filled my sisters in to the article published the day before, about how I single handedly saved someone's life. But no matter, this was my time to shine and I was ready.

Waving my hand like the Queen of England and blowing kisses to my adoring fans, I was offered the key to the city and reasonable donation. I glanced over my shoulder just long enough to see everyone's jaws drop including Mother Ariel. The mayor went on to thank the Poor Clares for their constant prayers and feeding of the homeless. Senator Wickman ended the speech by welcoming everyone inside. I watched with great glee as my plans unfolded in glorious success. Families and their children piled into the courtyard ready to eat Sister Mabel's food and shop around at all the Sister's wonderful crafts. The crew of gays I had asked to participate used the car wash as a time to promote their community and all the good things they had planned for the community in the months to come. Even my sisters, initially shocked by the crowd, were laughing and selling their wares at a rapid pace. The only person not joining in on the festivities was Mother Ariel.

Mother Ariel had a face of deep anger and frustration. She stomped her foot only twice before returning inside the monastery not stepping out again until later that evening. Ignoring her shallow attempts at throwing a fit, I turned my attention to the car wash, twirling signs, acting a fool while carefully avoiding the spray of the hose, and waiting for the final part of my plan to arrive.

Only an hour later did I see the car drive up and the face of Investigator Dorsey glisten through the window. He rolled down his window smiling at the ridiculous sight that was a nun rolling around on a unicycle.

"My my, Sister Mary," he chuckled. "You are something. Even got the mayor involved. I'm impressed."

"Oh don't flatter me, Mr. Dorsey," I said strolling up to his car window. "Here for a car wash?"

"I suppose I am," he said.

"Just drive up to that lot and park your car. Feel free to wander the courtyard and get yourself some tasty jambalaya."

The man did not hesitate, and before I could blink an eye, he was off to the monastery's front entrance. I wasted not a second to open his car door and search around. Sitting on his backseat was a briefcase. I snapped the lid open and saw exactly what I had hoped I would find. The tiny book of his notes and the tarot card with the strange cipher written on the back.

"God is certainly on my side today," I said as I shut the door with the two items in hand. "All I need to do now is copy this information down and I will be one step closer to solving this murder. Sometimes I scare myself by how crafty I am." I chuckled a maniacal laugh, threw D. Thomas over my shoulder, and vanished down the road to the nearest bus stop.