of good, Margaret Mary. You may stall her for a while, but sooner or later she and Reverend Mother will get what they want. Unless we do something about it, St. T's is doomed."
The last melodramatic sentence rang into the dead silence that had fallen suddenly over the room. Miriam raised her head and looked around, her cheeks reddening. Mother Winifred was standing at a table near the front of the room. She was so short that I had to move my chair to be able to see her.
"I am sure you have all heard that Sister Perpetua died this afternoon," she said with dignity. "Father Steven will
celebrate a Requiem Mass later in the week. In the meantime, following our tradition, we will say prayers in the chapel for Sister Perpetua's soul." She didn't mention the fact that Sister Perpetua's body would be somewhere else.
When she finished, she introduced me and told the sisters that I was there to look into the fires. She paused for a moment, looked around at her silent audience, and added, "I am sorry to tell you that letters of a quite destructive nature have been delivered to several of our sisters." She spoke in measured, emphatic phrases. "This unfortunate business must be brought out into the light. If you have received such a letter or have any information about the writer, I request-no, I direct you to speak to me or to Ms. Bayles immediately."
I watched the sisters as she spoke. Their eyes were on Mother Winifred, their faces expressionless, with that look of calm serenity I was beginning to think of as a convenient camouflage. If one of them had received a letter or had written one, the guilty knowledge was not written on her face.
The night sky was lit by a sliver of low-hanging moon when Maggie, Ruby, and I walked in the direction of the cottages, our flashlight beams glancing along the path in front of us. We were all shivering in the frosty January air. As if by mutual agreement, we said nothing about Maggie's decision to return to St. T's, although Ruby must have been quivering with curiosity and I still wasn't convinced that Maggie didn't have an ulterior motive. I couldn't help noticing, though, that her step was lighter and she was smiling. Whatever burden she'd been carrying she seemed to have left behind.
But there was something else on my mind. I was trying to puzzle out what to do about the shooting that afternoon. Had it been accidental or deliberate? The answer to that question-if there
was
an answer-was on the Townsend side of the river.
I caught up to Maggie. "What's the best way to get to the top of the cliff?"
"You can cross the river at a narrow spot about fifty yards upstream from your cottage," Maggie said. "The path begins on the other side. The climb takes about half an hour, maybe less."
"It's not straight up, is it?" I asked. I eyed the cliff, which seemed to loom over us. I'm not in bad shape, but I'm not a mountain goat, either.
"It isn't very steep, but it's a bit treacherous. Would you like to go up there tomorrow?"
"Actually, I'd rather go tonight," I said. "If I'm going to snoop, I prefer to do it when I'm not going to run into anybody." I wasn't sure there was anything to find, but I wouldn't know unless I climbed up there and looked.
Ruby zipped up her jacket. "Isn't it a bit cold for us to snoop?''
"You don't have to come," I said. "After all, you've got to get up pretty early tomorrow." Ruby was leaving for Albuquerque before breakfast.
Ruby gave me a look. "Of course I don't
have
to come. But did George and Beth desert Nancy in her hour of need? Anyway, two of us up there snooping are less suspicious than one."
"Three of us," Maggie said. "You need me to show you the path. It's not a snap in daylight-it'll be harder at night."
The path was definitely not a snap. Halfway up the cliff, I stopped to catch my breath and take a look at the moon-washed landscape. Above me, rhinestone stars glittered against a matte black sky and the moon, a quarter-round of stamped silver, was
The last melodramatic sentence rang into the dead silence that had fallen suddenly over the room. Miriam raised her head and looked around, her cheeks reddening. Mother Winifred was standing at a table near the front of the room. She was so short that I had to move my chair to be able to see her.
"I am sure you have all heard that Sister Perpetua died this afternoon," she said with dignity. "Father Steven will
celebrate a Requiem Mass later in the week. In the meantime, following our tradition, we will say prayers in the chapel for Sister Perpetua's soul." She didn't mention the fact that Sister Perpetua's body would be somewhere else.
When she finished, she introduced me and told the sisters that I was there to look into the fires. She paused for a moment, looked around at her silent audience, and added, "I am sorry to tell you that letters of a quite destructive nature have been delivered to several of our sisters." She spoke in measured, emphatic phrases. "This unfortunate business must be brought out into the light. If you have received such a letter or have any information about the writer, I request-no, I direct you to speak to me or to Ms. Bayles immediately."
I watched the sisters as she spoke. Their eyes were on Mother Winifred, their faces expressionless, with that look of calm serenity I was beginning to think of as a convenient camouflage. If one of them had received a letter or had written one, the guilty knowledge was not written on her face.
The night sky was lit by a sliver of low-hanging moon when Maggie, Ruby, and I walked in the direction of the cottages, our flashlight beams glancing along the path in front of us. We were all shivering in the frosty January air. As if by mutual agreement, we said nothing about Maggie's decision to return to St. T's, although Ruby must have been quivering with curiosity and I still wasn't convinced that Maggie didn't have an ulterior motive. I couldn't help noticing, though, that her step was lighter and she was smiling. Whatever burden she'd been carrying she seemed to have left behind.
But there was something else on my mind. I was trying to puzzle out what to do about the shooting that afternoon. Had it been accidental or deliberate? The answer to that question-if there
was
an answer-was on the Townsend side of the river.
I caught up to Maggie. "What's the best way to get to the top of the cliff?"
"You can cross the river at a narrow spot about fifty yards upstream from your cottage," Maggie said. "The path begins on the other side. The climb takes about half an hour, maybe less."
"It's not straight up, is it?" I asked. I eyed the cliff, which seemed to loom over us. I'm not in bad shape, but I'm not a mountain goat, either.
"It isn't very steep, but it's a bit treacherous. Would you like to go up there tomorrow?"
"Actually, I'd rather go tonight," I said. "If I'm going to snoop, I prefer to do it when I'm not going to run into anybody." I wasn't sure there was anything to find, but I wouldn't know unless I climbed up there and looked.
Ruby zipped up her jacket. "Isn't it a bit cold for us to snoop?''
"You don't have to come," I said. "After all, you've got to get up pretty early tomorrow." Ruby was leaving for Albuquerque before breakfast.
Ruby gave me a look. "Of course I don't
have
to come. But did George and Beth desert Nancy in her hour of need? Anyway, two of us up there snooping are less suspicious than one."
"Three of us," Maggie said. "You need me to show you the path. It's not a snap in daylight-it'll be harder at night."
The path was definitely not a snap. Halfway up the cliff, I stopped to catch my breath and take a look at the moon-washed landscape. Above me, rhinestone stars glittered against a matte black sky and the moon, a quarter-round of stamped silver, was
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