Oliver perked, but when Newman turned his full attention to Felipe without even a glance in the dark-haired man’s direction, he deflated and returned to the last of his soup with a frown.
“While you were busy, I took statements from all the nuns and the staff who were around last night, and I searched Sister Mary Agnes’s room.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Nothing of interest to the case. You can imagine how little she had. What about you?”
Felipe pointedly tipped his head toward the cook. “We can discuss that back at headquarters.”
Returning their empty cups to the sink, Felipe motioned for Newman and Barlow to follow him into the hall. “What did you find out from the sisters?”
“Not a whole lot. They all saw her last night when they prayed before going up to bed.” Newman flipped through his notebook with a frown. “The one sister— the one Sister Mary Margaret had me speak to first apparently spoke to the deceased until around ten-thirty about a spiritual matter. She confirmed Sister Mary Agnes was still in her habit and that she had mentioned staying up to read. One of the other sisters thought she heard a door open and close, but she couldn’t say when exactly.”
“Did they hear anything else? See anything suspicious? Any recent visitors?”
Newman shook his head. “No, nothing out of the ordinary. They’re all deeply upset and frightened.”
Technically none of them had been given the lead role for the case, but Felipe didn’t like that Newman had gone off on his own without touching base with him or Barlow. When Felipe worked with Jed Monroe, they worked as a team, dividing the labor but always running things past each other. He didn’t know how things worked in the other field departments, but he couldn’t imagine Newman took the lead anywhere unless he worked alone. Even if the head inspector and the priest had wanted this case closed fast, Felipe wasn’t letting whatever killed Sister Mary Agnes slip through the cracks that easily.
“Make sure you write up a thorough report when we get back. Details are very important here, so you will need to type up transcripts of your interviews if you have them.”
“I know. I always do.”
“This isn’t like hauntings and possessions. Someonediedhere, and we still don’t know what sort of monster is on the loose.”
Newman’s jaw tensed, but he turned to Felipe with a blithe expression. “Understood. Is there anything else or should we wrap this up and head back?”
“Barlow, is there anything you can think of that we missed?”
For a long moment, Barlow said nothing. They had walked the entire property, checked the body, and all that was left was to interview the sisters, which had already been done, yet Felipe hoped Barlow would give him a reason to stay. It felt like they were missing something important, and he thought Barlow felt it, too.
“I can’t think of anything, but I think we should ask Sister Mary Margaret about talking to Father Gareth in the near future. His hesitance about us taking the body or being called in, in the first place doesn’t sit right with me.”
“Quite right. I’ll speak to Sister Mary Margaret, and I’ll meet you back at the car in a few minutes.”
Newman set off without a word, but Barlow lingered. His grey gaze caught Felipe’s as he took a step closer. His lips parted, and for a moment, Felipe thought he might speak. Instead, Barlow swallowed and gently took Felipe’s bag from his hand. Casting him another furtive glance, the dark-haired man disappeared down the hall.
Felipe was once again left alone.
***
The ride back fromthe Corpus Christi Monastery was far more subdued than the ride up. Uncomfortably so. Silence hung thickly in the backseat to the point that Oliver felt the need to break the tension by asking how Sister Mary Margaret took the news about Sister Mary Agnes’s unexplained death. She took it as well as could be expected. She and the other nuns would travel in pairs as much as possible and make certain every door was locked before bed. That and pray. Oliver sighed to himself as they entered Manhattan and the streets grew more familiar.
He had rarely been involved on this end of cases, but this didn’t feel like closure. He had done what he could with what he had, yet it wasn’t enough to conclusively say anything. It weighed on Galvan as well; he could see it in the furrow of his brows as he stared out the window. The best thing Oliver could do was type up his findings and get them to Galvan. Then, he would do some research on his own. He had hundreds of cases to pull upon, thousands if you counted all that came before his tenure at the society, even if they weren’t nearly as scientific or rigorous. But it would do. They would figure it out, and maybe something in Newman’s notes would be useful, something the man missed.
Pulling up to the stone façade of the Paranormal Society, the knot in Oliver’s chest loosened. The building loomed like a temple with its massive columns and frieze depicting skeletons, men, women, and monsters in something akin to a danse macabre. At the base of the steps, two sphinx-like gargoyles stood sentry. It should have been spooky and garish, but no matter how many times Oliver entered through the massive doors, it felt like home. The foyer was quiet as they entered with most of the members already at work in their departments or out at their day jobs.
“Well, if you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I’m off to type my notes. I should have them to you this evening, Galvan, as long as there’s an open typewriter in the archives.”
As Newman headed for the steps, Galvan trotted after him, pulling the letter they found in Sister Mary Agnes’s pocket from his coat. “If you’re going to the archives, can you stop by the library and show this to Reynard? We found it on Sister Mary Agnes’s body and can’t read it. We figured someone Reynard knows can translate it.”
Newman glanced at the letter before tucking it into his notebook. “I’ll make sure to give it to him.”
Oliver busied himself with his bag as Newman’s steps echoed and faded. He wanted desperately to say something to Galvan, but anything beyond the usual script eluded him.
He swallowed hard. “I’ll make sure to have my report to you by tonight as well, but I want to do more research before I submit anything to the head inspector. We have so many questions and so few answers. It bothers me. I—” Oliver caught himself about to run his hand through his pomaded hair and let his hand drop as a fist at his side. “I want to go through my old case files and the archives and see if I can find anything that might help us figure out who did it. Or what did it.”
Galvan’s eyes softened. “Doing research like that, that’s not your job. It’s far more than I can reasonably expect from you, Barlow.”
