SISTER (ALTON RHODE MYSTERIES Book 4) by Lawrence de Maria Page A

week.”
    “I’m relieved. You don’t look much like a Sunday School teacher, either.”
    She looked me up and down.
    “Does your line of bull work on women everywhere, or just inside a convent?”
    She was still smiling when she said it.
    “Isn’t this where you point out that I’m old enough to be your father?’
    She leaned forward and put her elbows on the desk. As a trained detective, I noticed that she did not appear to be wearing a bra.
    “I might have, but you don’t look anything like my father. Are you coming on to me?”
    A Wellesley girl, she could handle just about anything. Or anyone. I had to laugh.
    “Maybe. But I’m not serious. I’m kind of spoken for. I just want to be able to say I did it in a convent. I may never be in one again.”
    “I never met a private eye before. Spoken for, or otherwise. I’m crushed.”
    “No, you’re not. But since you aren’t a nun, I can say you are one gorgeous young woman without worrying about being struck by lightning.”
    “Thank you. Ah, here she is.”
    I turned to see a tall, white-haired woman in her 70’s who looked like a Mother Superior from central casting. She gave me an appraising glance. I suspected she had heard some of our conversation.
    “I’m Sister Barbara,” she said, putting out her hand. “Nice to meet you Mr. Rhode. I see that Ann has you well in hand.”
    “You can’t imagine.”
    “Oh, yes I can. Why don’t we go into my office?”
    As I turned to follow her, Ann whispered, “Busted, again.”
    I followed the Mother Superior through a door to a small inner office and she waved me to a seat. She was wearing a long gray skirt and white blouse with sleeves and a gray cardigan. Sensible, sturdy black shoes.
    “What can I do for you, Mr. Rhode?’
    “As I mentioned on the phone, I’m looking into the murder of Sister Veronica in Worcester. I understand she once worked here.”
    “You also mentioned that you were a private detective. Do you have some sort of identification?”
    I took out my license and passed it over to her.
    “New York,” she said, passing my I.D. back.
    “That’s right.” 
    “Are you working for her aunt?”
    “No. I’m doing this on my own.”
    “Why?”
    “I knew her when she was Veronica Frost. I want to find out who killed her.”
    “Why not leave it to the police?”
    “It’s complicated.”
    She smiled.
    “You were involved romantically?”
    Sister Barbara didn’t get to be a Mother Superior by being slow on the uptake.
    “Yes.”
    “For how long?”
    “About a year.”
    “When was this?”
    “When I was in college.”
    “Sister Veronica went to Rosemont, near Philadelphia.”
    “Yes, I know. She was in high school when we met.” That got me a Mother Superior look. “We dated her senior year at Notre Dame Academy on Staten Island.”
    She smiled again.
    “Don’t look so defensive, Mr. Rhode. I’m not going to smack your hand with a ruler. High school seniors can be quite attractive. We knew that Sister Veronica had a life before finding her vocation. If anything, I believe it made her a better person and a better Sister of St. Jerome.”
    “I think she was a pretty good person to start out with,” I said. “But it did surprise me to find out she took vows. I know she went to church and all, but she didn’t wear her Catholicism on her sleeve. I thought vocations came earlier in someone’s life.”
    “God’s call can come at any time, Mr. Rhode. I was in my early 40’s.”
    “I was just wondering if anything happened after I knew her that set her on the path to a religious order. It may have some bearing on her murder.”
    Mother Superior ignored me.
    “You said you were involved for only a year. What happened?”
    “I went back to school. We corresponded. Then she and her family moved suddenly and I never saw or heard from her again.”
    “Did you try to find her?”
    “Yes. But they left no trail. And then, well ….”
    “Life.”
    “Yes.”
    “And now,