Chloe Babineaux Private Investigator Read online

  Chapter Four

  Cheri was ready when I arrived but sans surveillance gear. I wasn’t surprised; the woman had no sense of adventure. She was all, ‘But I’m a CPA. I could lose my license if I looked into the private bank accounts of my clients. And yes, super stud had a nice car but we couldn’t break into his house to see what kind of TV he had. I just had to go out with him first.’

  I really didn’t have a whole lot of gear anyway. I bought one of those turbo ear things off an infomercial. The ad said I would be able to hear across a room. I also brought a step ladder because it was easier to carry than an eight-foot ladder, rope, and gloves. I thought about going to a costume shop to rent a nun’s habit, but I had no idea what kind of habit they wore. I was not in the habit of checking out such things.

  We stopped by a deli for lunch and then took off for Shloe. It was slow going to Shloe. A neighborhood was on the highway. I called it that because it was several semi-trucks pulling oversized mobile homes. We were finally able to pass them, and we made good time.

  The convent was down a dirt road, and we eventually found it. I had printed out the directions and also put the address in my GPS, so I only took about thirteen wrong turns. For some odd reason, people around here don’t believe in putting up road signs. And the GPS said we were on unknown roads and froze up.

  Our Lady of Hope was a massive square brick building. Shade trees surrounded it on all sides, and it looked more like an evil palace than a convent. The area in back of the convent was surrounded by a tall brick wall. The website had said the convent had been here for almost two hundred years, so I guess that had something to do with the creepiness. We parked in the lot and sat looking around. A few work trucks were in the lot, but that was all.

  The site also said only a few of the nuns had taken a vow of silence so I was sure I would be able to talk to someone about Sister Bonita.

  Okay, I could jump the back wall, belly crawl to the back door, shimmy my way in and track down Sister Bonita. Or we could walk to the front door. We got out of the truck and walked to the front gate.

  I took a deep breath and rang the bell out front. I was almost shaking I was so nervous. Get a grip. They can’t all be like Sister Angelina. Can they? No, I was sure they weren’t. Yeah, keep that happy thought.

  The door opened without a squeak. Okay, good sign. Standing there was a young woman who couldn’t have been more than sixteen. How old did you have to be to become a nun? She had to be older than she looked.

  I realized she was waiting for me to answer her question but I didn’t hear it. I was so surprised I didn’t hear her question. Why did I think all nuns were old? Surely they had to start out young. Some of them anyway.

  “I’m sorry,” I said smiling. “You’re so young. I was expecting my old Confirmation teacher to answer the door. But that’s just silly because she had to be ninety then.” Cheri elbowed me, so I added, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…”

  “No, don’t be sorry,” she cut me off, smiling. “You didn’t offend me. We have all ages here. I had only taken my vows a short time ago. How can I help you?”

  “We were hoping to speak to Sister Bonita,” Cheri answered. I guess she thought I was going to ask her if she owned a ruler, so she spoke up and asked her question first.

  “I’m so sorry, but Sister Bonita has taken a vow of silence and cannot speak to you today. You must come back Sunday.” She smiled and closed the door before we could say anything more.

  Cheri and I looked at each other shrugged and walked back to my truck. We drove a short distance away, far enough not to be seen from the convent parking lot.

  “Huh,” I said, “she didn’t even tell us her name. How am I going to finesse my way in if she didn’t tell me her name?”

  “It shouldn’t be that hard to come up with a nun’s name. Use Sister Angelina, I’m sure there’s an Angelina somewhere in there,” Cheri said twisting off the cap of her bottled water. She then narrowed her eyes at me and asked, “What do you mean finesse your way in? How are you going to get in there? Everything is blocked.”

  “I’ll jump the back wall, belly crawl to the back door, shimmy my way in and track down Sister Bonita,” I said with a far away look in my eye, smiled and nodded just to freak Cheri out.

  “You’re crazy. You know that, don’t you?”

  “What are they going to do, rap my knuckles? I’ve been there, have the scars to prove it. Do you have any questions you want me to ask her? Like, what does she wear under her habit or if a nun decides to quit the nunnery does she kick the habit?” I was laughing, Cheri was grinning.

  “You’re going to hell,” Cheri said shaking her head but still grinning.

  “Maybe, but at least I’ll know what a nunnery looks like from the inside, hidden from the public. I bet they were dancing and drinking, of course, some will have to lip sync because of the vow of silence thing.” Cheri laughed hard.

  I carried the step ladder while Cheri carried the rope and gloves. I brought my turbo ear thing because I thought it made me seem professional. It looked like a blue tooth cell phone device, but if Sister Bonita decided to whisper instead of using her full voice because she really wanted to get rid of me, I thought it might come in handy.

  We kept to trees and walked to the back wall of the convent. There were trees all around the wall, so we picked one that looked easy to climb. I placed my step ladder beside the wall near the tree, climbed to the top of the wall and stopped to take a good look around. A vegetable garden was dug near the back wall, but since this was January nothing was growing. An outbuilding was on the inside of the wall not too far away from the back door. I heard a noise and ducked back into the tree. A nun was coming out carrying a basket of clothes. Ah, the laundry. Perfect. Maybe I could borrow a habit to get inside. I had hung from the wall before I dropped to the ground. Wait. How was I going to get back over?

  I took out my phone and called Cheri. “You’re gonna have to drop the step ladder over so I can get over the wall when I’m ready to go. I’ll make a clicking sound like a squirrel when I’m ready.” I can’t whistle, but I can click.

  “You have got to be kidding me. Really? Click? Why don’t you…oh, I forgot you don’t know how to whistle,” Cheri said sarcastically. “It’ll be easier if you just call.”

  “Smartass. Just throw the damn thing over when I need it.”

  “I’m the smartass. You didn’t think about how you were gonna get back over the wall, but I’m the smartass.”

  I didn’t answer; I just hung up. I didn’t have time to explain how I was the intelligent one because I was going to dress like a nun to get in. Dressing as a nun would be a habit that would be easy to break.

  I didn’t belly crawl; I put my back to the wall and slowly worked my way to the laundry. I tried the door. YES! The door was unlocked. Inside was a habit. I smelled it first in case it reeked of sweat from all that dancing I was sure was happening in the convent.

  I pulled it on over my clothes because it was way too big. It must have had fifty buttons down the front, and the head gear was confusing. I really need to brush up on my nun lingo if I was ever going to come back. Then again what was I going to say to the rental people, “So, do you know where I could rent a habit so I can break in a nunnery and what do you call the headgear?”

  I looked around then walked to the back door, opened it and walked in. Problem: Where was Sister Bonita? Is it segregated? Are all the talking nuns on one floor and the vow of silencers on another? I took a deep breath and started down the hall.

  The doors didn’t have signs on them saying what they were used for, and they were closed. Dang. Now, what was I going to do? I couldn’t knock on all the doors and say, ‘I was looking for Sister Bonita. Would you happen to know where she is?’

  The first floor looked to be more of a working area so I found the stairs and as quietly as I could, started up them. I took four steps when someone started down the stairs. I kept my head down with my hands in my
pockets. I realized I didn’t have a rosary hanging from my belt like the other nun, but I was hoping they were so used to seeing them she wouldn’t notice.

  “Good afternoon, Sister,” she said as we passed.

  “Good afternoon,” I answered. My heart had stopped. I was hoping she had taken a vow of silence.

  Vow of silence. It wouldn’t do any good to listen outside doors. If Sister Bonita wasn’t talking, she wouldn’t answer my knock by telling me to come in. But then again she couldn’t tell me to go away. This might work. I’d just stick my foot in the door. She’s a nun. She won’t try to break my foot by closing the door on it. Unless she was like Sister Angelina, then she would probably hit me over the head with her bible. Yeah, she did that once too. It really hurt because it was a really big bible.

  I arrived at the top of the stairs. I looked around at the doors, and my eyes popped. I couldn’t believe it. God really did want me to find this old dancing, drinking, and tobacco smoking nun. Okay, to be fair she probably didn’t smoke. Or drink. Or dance. But I was starting to sweat and really wanted to get this over with.

  I walked down the dark hall looking at the names on the outside of the doors. Yes, I said names. I could not believe my luck. Names on the outside of the door, I couldn’t believe it. I was bowled over.

  I found it. I found the door. It was the second from the end. I knocked and listened carefully. To what? I have no idea. But hey, was that music and singing in there? She was lip syncing. I wonder if she was dancing. Probably not. It was a religious song, very operatic.

  The door opened and an older, about a sixty-year-old version of the one I met on the stairs, flinched. The smile on her face left instantly, and she tried to close the door. I stuck my foot out to block it, but she kept shoving. What is it with me and nuns that don’t get along?

  I eventually whispered, “Stop. Don’t close the door. Petunia hired me to find the painting. I brought paper to write on unless you know sign language, but I don’t so that won’t help.”

  She stopped shoving long enough for me to push the door open and walked in. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it. I took several deep breaths before saying, “Jeeze Louise. You’re stronger than you look.”

  Sister Bonita glared, shook her head, turned her back to me and then walked back to a small table by the window.

  I took a good look around and saw she had a good size bible on the table, so I stayed where I was. She looked like she was thinking, ‘I have a bible and I know how to use it. Come near me, and I’ll bop you on the head.’ The only decoration in the room was a crucifix hanging over the door and another one on the wall over her small bed.

  “Sister Bonita,” I said softly, “Petunia just wants to know where the painting is. If another family member has it, that’s fine. She’s okay with that. She just wants to make sure it’s safe.”

  Sister Bonita continued to glare and frown at me. Her face didn’t have a lot of wrinkles, but if she kept this up, she would have plenty.

  “Why is this painting so bad you won’t tell her about it? What does it look like?” I asked. “What is it a painting of? I didn’t ask Petunia that. Does she know or does she only know it’s a family heirloom and worth…I don’t know? Is it worth anything?” I paused then shook my head and said, “If I would’ve told her no I wouldn’t look into it because her mother is a nun, someone else would have. I’m a Catholic. I respect you.” I smiled and said, “I’ll respect you a lot more if you don’t hit me over the head with your bible like Sister Angelina my Confirmation teacher did.”

   I finally got a response from her. I slight smile. I smiled bigger and said, “I know what you’re thinking, ‘Having met me you know why I was bopped on the head.’” She chuckled and nodded.

  “Can you answer my questions now?” I asked.

  She looked me up and down, picked up her habit slightly and shook her head.

  “I didn’t steal it. I’m borrowing it. I’ll give it back, I promise. What am I gonna do with a nun’s habit? Especially one that’s way too big. I also don’t have a fancy schmancy rosary like yours hanging from my belt,” I said pointing at her rosary.

  Sister Bonita shook her head again but called me over to her with her hand. She started writing on paper the answers to my questions. Halleluiah, now we’re getting somewhere.

  1. I don’t want Petunia to find it.

  2. The artist was not famous, so I don’t know if it’s worth anything.

  3. The painting is an old farm house in Shloe. In fact, the farm is called Old Shloe Farm. I’m not sure the house is still there. If it is, it’s on Old Shloe Farm House Road. Don’t go. The painting isn’t there.

  “How do you know it isn’t there?” I asked.

  ‘I know,’ she wrote. ‘My mother told me nothing is in that house. The house is empty. When everybody left the house, the furniture and everything in it, was either taken by family or sold.’

  She got up from the table and walked to the door and opened it. Conversation over. I looked out cautiously, turned back and whispered, “Thank you for talking to me.” I took a step out then stopped, smiled and asked, “What do you wear under that?”

  Sister Bonita tightened her lips and shook her head and rolled her eyes.

  I winked and walked out. Good, no one was on the stairs, but there was a congregation of nuns on the first floor. Great. Now what? I thought about going back upstairs to sneak out of Sister Bonita’s window, but she probably would have broken her vow and yelled for help. There had to be an empty room somewhere upstairs.

  I ran quickly up the stairs and started looking for doors left open. They’re nuns; surely they aren’t going to steal from one another. There couldn’t be that many people like me coming here.

  I found a door left ajar. The very last room. It wasn’t a bedroom but some kind of closet. It had a window, so that’s all I needed. I looked out of the window to get my bearings and almost cried. It opened out onto the roof which was good. The roof led out to the backyard with a tree near it, which was good. Problem: I was afraid of heights. Well, not so much heights; it was hitting the ground part that bothers me. Okay. I had to either go back downstairs and face the music and dancing or climb out the window.

  I opened the window and squeezed my huge habit through it. I started to break out in a sweat again. I had calmed down when Sister Bonita answered my questions, but now the sweat was running down my sides. I made it onto the roof when a thought hit me. What if someone was looking out the window? I cautiously looked around. The windows didn’t have curtains, but I also didn’t have much choice. I was hoping they were all downstairs discussing the hoedown. I hiked up my habit and marched off, took two steps and stopped. I couldn’t run that would make more noise than if I walked. Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap. I was in a nunnery I had to watch my language. I made it to a tree when I heard someone yell something. Please, oh please let that be God calling me.

  “Sister! Are you alright? What are you doing out there?” Someone other than God asked.

  Oh shit, oh shit. I mean, oh crap, oh crap. “Yes, I’m fine. I thought I saw a wounded squirrel but its fine. I’ll be right in. Go back in. It’s cold out here,” I said keeping my face turned to the side.

  “Do you need help?” she asked.

  Yeah, I do. Can you help me over the wall and oh, by the way here’s a habit I borrowed. “No, I’m fine. I see it’s not wounded,” I repeated. “Please, go inside I would feel just awful if you came down with a cold because of me.” I was going to hell.

  “No, let me help you inside. Come to my window its closer,” she insisted.

  Dang, dang double dang. “You know what? I kind of like it out here. I can contemplate with the feeling that I’m in the trees. I feel one with nature,” I said still not turning my head. One with nature my big toe. How am I going to get off this roof without breaking my neck? I was lying to a nun. I was so going to hell.

  “Well, if you’re sure. I’ll let you be,” the nun said and ble
ssedly closed the window.

  I wanted to glance back but knew I wouldn’t be able to see anything because of the brightness outside and dark rooms inside. And I also didn’t want her to see my face. She would have known I wasn’t one of the dance participants.

  I stood there counted to one hundred and took hold of the nearest branch and threw my legs over. I made it, but I didn’t take the time to listen for someone yelling at me. I shimmied down the tree, putting my feet on the branches below. Not easy in a nun’s habit; my feet kept getting caught in the hem. I got stuck about eight or nine feet from the bottom. Cheri would have said it was seven or eight feet, but I knew it was more like nine or ten. I hung on to the branch and dropped down to the ground. It would have been better if I had bent my knees. I twisted my ankle.

  I called Cheri and told her I was over the wall and to stay where she was, and I would meet her there. I hobbled over to her, still sweating like a pig and saw she was laughing.

  “What is so damn funny?” I snapped.

  Cheri held up her phone and took a picture of me. “I saw you on the roof. Who were you talking to?”

  “A nun had stopped me before I could climb down. I couldn’t leave the way I came in. There was a meeting for the next barn dance going on downstairs.” I leaned on my sore ankle and grimaced.

  “Did you hurt your ankle climbing the tree?” she asked and took another picture of me.

  “No. I hurt my ankle jumping from the tree,” I answered sharply. “But I still need to get this habit back. I don’t suppose you’d want to put it back for me?” She shook her head. “Look at me. I’m hurt,” I said leaning against the wall massaging my ankle.

  “No. You started this; you’re finishing it. Just throw it over. Someone will find it,” Cheri said waving her arm toward the top of the wall.

  “No. I can’t do that. If something should happen to it and they have to buy a new one, it would be like I stole it. You know you can’t steal from a church. You steal from a church you’re going to hell.” Like I wouldn’t go to hell for lying to a nun.

  We stared at each other for a minute or two. I took a deep breath exhaled loudly and said hard, “Fine. I’ll put it back. But if I hurt my ankle more than it already is because of all the extra pressure I’ll be putting on it, I won’t be happy. And I’m taking it out on you.”

  “Okay.” She shrugged one shoulder. “I’ll help you with the ladder.” She was obviously not afraid of my wrath.

  I climbed over the wall the same way I did the first time. Twisted my ankle again when I dropped from the wall and returned the habit to the laundry. This time I called Cheri and told her to drop the ladder over to me. I used it to climb to the top of the wall, lay down on top of the wall and stretched my arm for the curve back of the ladder. I then used it to climb over to the other side.

  On the walk back to the truck I told Cheri all about my talk with Sister Bonita.

  “So we still don’t know anything do we?” she asked.

  “We know what the painting is of and where the old farm house is. We don’t know where the painting is and what nuns wear under their habit.”

  Cheri rolled her eyes, and I started the truck and headed home.

  It was too late to drive to the farm, so we drove back to the office. Cheri did her CPA thing, and I called Petunia.

  “Mrs. Andreneaux, this is Chloe Babineaux. I was able to talk to your mother today.”

  “You talked to her?” she asked, amazed. “Please call me Petunia.”

  “Well, maybe talk is the wrong word. I talked, she wrote. I found out the painting is of the Old Shloe Farm House. I had forgotten yesterday to ask you if you knew. Did you know?”

  “Well, I knew it was of an old farm house, but I didn’t know where the house was,” she answered. “Did she say if it was still there? My mother would never talk about it when I was a child.” She paused and before I could say anything she continued, “I know that sounded odd, but she really wouldn’t talk to me about it.”

  “That’s okay; she told me she wasn’t sure if the house is still there, but there’s nothing in the old house if it is. I’ll need to come to your house tomorrow to get addresses of your relatives so I can ask them about it. They might talk to me a stranger rather than you a relative.”

  “That’s fine. I live in Alexandria but some of my relatives live in Gardener. Do you mind going there to talk to them?”

  “No, of course not, I’ll be at your house tomorrow morning around nine thirty. Is that okay with you?”

  “Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She sounded pleased like I actually got something accomplished besides a sore ankle.

  I went home and took a shower. I felt dirty after all that climbing, sweating and wearing someone else’s clothes. By the time I was through drying my hair, it was time to follow whatshername again.

  Cody called me and asked how I liked my new truck.

  “It’s great,” I said. “I have to get used to driving a bigger truck, but other than that it’s all good.”

  “I’m glad. Why don’t you come over and show it to me?” he asked.

  “I can’t; I have to work. I’ll let you see it when I can, but it might not be until Sunday.”

  “Okay. Be careful.” We disconnected. I didn’t tell him about my day. He would have flipped. Breaking and entering a nunnery can’t be legal.

  Whatshername and I went straight to the cosmetology school. I stayed for about thirty minutes to make sure she didn’t sneak out and then went home. Popped a frozen dinner in the microwave and watched TV, until eight thirty then I went back to the school. She went straight home. I stayed there for about an hour after all the lights went off. I then took a ride to Rick’s house. His truck was there, and all his lights were off. It’s very dark in serial killer land so I couldn’t get a real good look at the house. I could tell it had a porch and had white vinyl siding, but that was about all I could see. I went home turned off all my lights and went to bed.