Oliver and Felipe stood up to let the women take their seats. Sister Mary Elizabeth regarded them with suspicion while Sister Mary Ignatius seemed almost eager as she leaned forward in her chair to watch them. Readying his notebook, Oliver raised his head to find Felipe replaced by Inspector Galvan.
“Before we get started, I want to be clear that everything we talk about in this room will remain confidential. We will not report this to Sister Mary Agnes or Father Gareth.” The brown-haired woman flinched at the priest’s name. “We are trying to solve your friend’s murder.”
“So Sister Mary Agnes was murdered?” Sister Mary Ignatius asked. “It wasn’t a tragic accident, like Father Gareth said.”
“No, it certainly was not an accident. I know you talked to Inspector Newman when we came to investigate the first time, so I apologize if any of our questions are redundant. Do you know of anyone within Sister Mary Agnes’s circle who had magical abilities?”
Sister Mary Elizabeth stilled like she was holding her breath while the redhead swallowed hard, her gaze flickering away from Felipe before returning to him with a shake of her head.
“There is someone,” Oliver said, keeping his voice low and soft. “You can tell us. We just want to find her killer. And you have my word that we won’t tell Sister Mary Margaret or get you in any trouble. Did anyone with magic try to hurt her?”
“Father Gareth,” Sister Mary Ignatius blurted, her eyes dampening with tears. “He tried to hurt her and succeeded many times. He’s hurt several of us. During confession, he tried to make her tell him things. When he didn’t like the answer, he tried to make her believe things that weren’t true. She told us to stay away from him as much as possible. We tried, but he still found us. Still compelled us to tell on each other.”
“But he was the worst to Sister Mary Agnes. She said that he made her see horrible things when she disobeyed him, but she knew better. That the Blessed Mother would protect her,” Sister Mary Elizabeth added. “She was strong in her convictions, stronger than his magic. We tried telling Sister Mary Margaret about Father Gareth, but she told us we were being hysterical.”
“That’s because he never does it to her. Or if he did, he was quieter about it, and she never noticed he was violating her mind.”
“We know about Father Gareth and his compulsion. We believe you,” Oliver replied gently.
Sister Mary Elizabeth and Mary Ignatius visibly relaxed, and Oliver hated that it took so long for someone to believe them. How many times had the priest compelled them to do something they didn’t want to do? How many times had Sister Mary Margaret dismissed them? Even if she hadn’t, what repercussions could there be for a man who stood so high on the pulpit?
“But is there anyone else with magic that you know of? Dr. Barlow and I both have abilities. It isn’t that uncommon. Anyone who might be friends with Father Gareth?”
The women shook their heads, but something nudged at Oliver’s brain. “Why did Father Gareth pick on Sister Mary Agnes?”
The brown-haired nun who had been closest to Sister Mary Agnes closed her eyes and released a tight breath. “None of this leaves the room?”
“You have our word.”
“Sister Mary Agnes had visions. Some were mundane. She saw new girls before they entered the order or foresaw some minor disaster, like when a branch fell on the chicken coop last year. They were harmless, not some ability that should keep someone out of a life of devotion. She kept them quiet until she told me that she had been having visions of heaven for years and had been writing them down to leave behind one day. They only happened at certain times, but they were regular enough that—” Sister Mary Elizabeth’s voice broke in a wet sob. Fishing into his pocket, Oliver handed her his extra handkerchief and waited for her to catch her breath. The nun drew in a long sniff and said in a rush, “That when she was found dead, I knew she had been down in the chapel because she was having a vision. That’s what she did on Thursday nights. I stayed with her until late on Thursday night talking, and I went to bed when she went to the chapel to pray. If I had gone down with her, she would still be alive.”
The other sister wrapped her arm around her and whispered soothing nothings into her ear as she broke into tears again. So Sister Mary Agnes was a sybil with divine visions, and Father Gareth knew. It made sense now why he had wanted to portray her as ill or delusional. She knew magic, she had her own, and she recognized his. She was a liability.
“Sister,” Felipe said softly in velvet tones, “I know you will continue to feel guilty about this for a long time, but if you were there, you may have been killed as well. The people who did this to your friend are dangerous.”
“I’ve tried telling her that,” the redheaded nun replied with a shake of her head. “Do you know when we can have Sister Mary Agnes’s things back?”
“What things?”
“Her papers. When we looked in her room after the other investigator left, the writings on her visions were gone. I assumed he collected them as evidence, but I would like to turn them into a book if I can. Sister Mary Agnes’s life won’t have been in vain, then, if her visions could give someone comfort or insight.”
Felipe and Oliver exchanged a look. The summary Inspector Newman turned in hadn’t mentioned any papers. “Did Father Gareth ever go into her room the day she was found?”
“No, I don’t think so. He saw the body, told us to call the undertaker, and left.”
“Her rosary is gone, too,” Sister Mary Elizabeth croaked.
Felipe thumbed through his notebook with a frown and replied, “The one in her pocket? We left it there after our investigation.”
“No, there was another.” Drawing a ragged breath, the nun pulled herself together and patted her eyes with Oliver’s handkerchief. “She snuck another in when she entered the order. It was made of gold and an expensive wood. It looked quite old. I thought her family might want it back, that it might have been an heirloom, but when I went through her things, I couldn’t find it.”
“It wasn’t on her body. The only things she had on her person were a plain rosary, a pencil, scissors, the beginnings of a letter, and a saint medal.”
“We buried her with the St. Catherine medal.” A bittersweet smile crossed Sister Mary Ignatius’s lips. “She was her patron saint of sorts. She had visions, too.”
“Do you think someone could have killed her for the rosary?”
“It wasn’t bejeweled, if that’s what you’re asking. It was kind of sad looking, actually. The gold was soft and thin, and poor Christ’s arms weren’t even fully attached on the cross.” The nuns laughed softly as if this was a common joke between them. “But it was valuable to her. She said it helped her focus during her visions.”
