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  PRAISE FOR OLIVIA MATTHEWS’S SISTER LOU MYSTERY SERIES!

  Peril & Prayer

  “A second case of murder nearly as close to home as her debut gives Sister Louise LaSalle another chance to show off her sleuthing chops.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  Mayhem & Mass

  “The possibility of romance between two of the characters provides a pleasant foil to Sister Lou’s pursuit of the truth for the sake of her old friend . . . in this debut of a saintly sleuth with some very human failings.”

  —Kirkus Reviews

  “Although Sister Lou took the vow of obedience, she doesn’t always play by traditional rules, as readers of this first-in-a-new-series will soon find out. Mayhem & Mass is a promising addition to the cozy mystery genre, and its protagonist is delightful!”

  —Suspense Magazine

  “Kudos to Olivia Matthews, who has created a new ‘hook’ to draw in readers.”

  —Mystery Scene Magazine

  “A spunky leading lady—who just happens to be a nun. Lou will go to the ends of the earth to uncover the truth. The plot is fast-paced and believable . . . A worthwhile mystery series here that fans will adore.”

  —RT Book Reviews

  Also by

  OLIVIA MATTHEWS

  Mayhem & Mass

  Peril & Prayer

  Alibis & Angels

  A Sister Lou Mystery

  OLIVIA MATTHEWS

  KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

  www.kensingtonbooks.com

  All copyrighted material within is Attributor Protected.

  Table of Contents

  PRAISE FOR OLIVIA MATTHEWS’S SISTER LOU MYSTERY SERIES!

  Also by

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by

  Kensington Publishing Corp.

  119 West 40th Street

  New York, NY 10018

  Copyright © 2019 Patricia Sargeant-Matthews

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  If you purchased this book without a cover, you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher, and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book.”

  KENSINGTON BOOKS and the K logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

  ISBN: 978-1-4967-0942-4

  Electronic edition: March 2019

  ISBN-13: 978-1-4967-0943-1

  ISBN-10: 1-4967-0943-8

  To my dream team:

  • My sister, Bernadette, for giving me the dream;

  • My husband, Michael, for supporting the dream;

  • My brother Richard, for believing the dream;

  • My brother Gideon, for encouraging the dream; ♥ And to Mom and Dad, always, with love. ♥

  This series is dedicated with respect and affection to the

  Congregation of the Dominican Sisters of Peace

  for inspiring me with their great courage, strength,

  determination, and joy.

  Chapter 1

  “You’re giving up coffee for Lent?” Sharelle “Shari” Henson gaped at Christian “Chris” LaSalle. He sat across the table from her at the cozy Briar Coast Café on Sunday morning. “That’s like giving up bathing.”

  Seated beside Shari, Sister Louise “Lou” LaSalle struggled with a smile as she watched the exchange between the young couple during brunch. Ash Wednesday, the start of the Lenten season, was just four days away. Sister Lou and her nephew, Chris, the vice president for College Advancement with the College of St. Hermione of Ephesus, had attended Mass before picking up Shari. Sister Lou and Chris still wore their sober Sunday finery. Shari had met them wearing a lemon yellow crewneck sweater, moss green jeans, and well-aged tangerine sneakers.

  Chris sliced into a turkey sausage patty. His onyx gaze, which was so like his father’s—Sister Lou’s deceased brother’s—dropped to Shari’s white porcelain coffee mug. “I can see how you would think that. Is that your second or third coffee today?”

  Shari’s gaze dropped to her mug before returning to Chris. “That depends. Are you counting the coffee I drank at home while waiting for you and Sister Lou?”

  Sister Lou’s eyebrows jumped. She sliced into her vegetable omelet as she contemplated Shari’s coffee. They’d been in the café for less than an hour and already the newspaper reporter was on her second mug. Chris was still nursing his first coffee of the day.

  Sister Lou was drinking chai tea, her hot beverage of choice. She’d need a refill soon. “Lent helps us recognize the things that we’ve become too dependent on; things that have taken hold of us in negative ways. By fasting from them during Lent, we’re declaring that we won’t let them control us anymore. That’s why Chris’s decision to give up coffee is an excellent one. It’s also not the first time he’s chosen to fast from coffee for Lent.” Sister Lou gave her nephew an indulgent smile.

  Shari’s reckless cocoa eyes widened in horror. “You’ve done this before?”

  Chris smiled as though he enjoyed Shari’s dismay. “Several times.”

  Shari’s winged eyebrows soared. The Briar Coast Telegraph newspaper reporter looked dumbstruck. “But I bought you that cappuccino maker for your birthday.” They’d celebrated Chris’s thirty-fourth birthday three weeks ago on January twenty-first.

  Chris’s perfectly proportioned sienna features softened with love and appreciation. “I’m using it now, and I’ll look forward to using it again on Easter Sunday, April first.”

  Shari wrinkled her long nose. “It seems wrong to celebrate Easter Sunday on April Fool’s Day.”

  “It kind of does.” Chris returned to his toast.

  Sister Lou was silent in her dissention. What did it matter that Easter Sunday fell on April first this year? She would be celebrating Easter and the joy of the resurrection. Sister Lou took a moment to relax into the laughter and chatter that ebbed and flowed from the tables around them.

  Shari shoved her mass of unruly raven tresses behind her narrow shoulders. Her gaze settled on Sister Lou. Her diamond-shaped features—high cheekbones, pointed chin, and bow-shaped lips—conveyed a mixture of confusion and frustration. “What’re you giving up for Lent?”

  Sister Lou understood that Shari wasn’t actually asking what she was giving up. Her young friend wanted guidance as to whether she should participate in some form of fasting during the Lenten season. Religious traditions were new to the reporter. Sometimes Sister Lou forgot that Shari hadn’t been exposed to them from childhood the way she and Chris had.

  Sister Lou shifted on her seat to face Shari. The bracing early Feb
ruary air of Briar Coast in upstate New York leaked through the window beside her. Despite her Southern California roots, Sister Lou didn’t mind the chill breeze.

  “The practice of exercising self-discipline is meant to draw us closer to Jesus Christ.” Sister Lou touched the blue, gold, and white Hermionean pin she’d affixed to the right lapel of her pale blue blazer. “Our efforts remind us of how much we have to be grateful for, but we don’t have to give something up to do that. During Lent, we’re also encouraged to modify our behaviors.”

  Shari’s brow furrowed with concentration. “You mean like being polite, not getting angry, and not cursing?”

  Chris sipped his orange juice. “Being more intentional in what we do and say can improve the way we treat other people even after Lent.”

  Sister Lou drank more of her chai tea. The warm, sweet beverage had a cinnamon-like bite going down. “We’re also encouraged to volunteer with nonprofit organizations like food banks, homeless shelters, and animal centers.”

  “Like the programs that your congregation sponsors.” Shari referenced Sister Lou’s congregation of Catholic sisters, the Congregation of the Sisters of St. Hermione of Ephesus. The reporter’s expression brightened as she began to understand the bigger picture of the meaning and purpose of Lent.

  Sister Lou took a sip from her nearly empty mug of chai tea. “That’s right.”

  Shari’s eyes sharpened with interest. “Are you giving something up or changing your behavior?”

  Sister Lou finished off her omelet. She was sorry the culinary delight was over. “Both. In addition to giving up pastries—”

  “You’re giving up pastries?” Once again, Shari’s voice reflected scandal and horror.

  Sister Lou recognized the irony of making her announcement in a café that was full to bursting with the scents of chocolate, confectioners’ sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. “I’m also recommitting to praying the rosary.”

  Shari gave her a blank look. “The rosary? What’s that?”

  Sister Lou fought against a smile. “I’ll show you the next time you come to my apartment.” There was a high probability that Chris and Shari had planned to do something together after Chris drove Sister Lou home. For that reason, she wouldn’t commit the couple to visiting with her today.

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Shari split a look between Chris and Sister Lou. “In the meantime, what should I give up for Lent?”

  Chris seemed surprised. “You don’t have to give up anything. It’s optional.”

  Shari shrugged her narrow shoulders. “If you two are doing it, I want to do it, too.”

  Chris lowered his fork and gave Shari a steady look. “Making the decision to fast during Lent is a significant commitment.”

  Shari nodded. “I understand that.”

  Do you really? Sister Lou wrapped her hands around her cooling porcelain mug of tea and contemplated her young friend. Her goal wasn’t to dampen Shari’s enthusiasm. It was to ensure that Shari understood the solemnity of the tradition.

  One didn’t fast on a whim.

  Sister Lou prayed for the right words. “I love your willingness to embrace something that’s so important to Chris and me, but I want to make sure you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

  “I’m not doing this just because of you and Chris,” Shari assured Sister Lou. “I want to experience this, too.”

  Sister Lou smiled. “All right, then. Instead of giving up something, perhaps you can join me in modifying our behaviors.”

  Shari gave her a wary look. “You want me to do that rosary thing with you?”

  Sister Lou almost laughed at the dread in the younger woman’s voice. Perhaps now the reporter was getting a sense of the seriousness of this season. “Let’s start small. Giving up something is far more fulfilling when there’s a clear understanding of why you’re doing it.”

  Shari glanced at Chris before returning her attention to Sister Lou. “Okay. What should I do?”

  Sister Lou sat back on her seat. “This year, commit to learning more about the Lenten season, and its traditions, including fasting and reconciliation.”

  Shari looked disappointed. “Learn about Lent? That’s it? For forty days?”

  Baby steps. “It’s a lot more than you may think.”

  Shari gave a decisive nod, then turned to Chris. “Can we go to a bookstore today so I can buy some books?”

  Sister Lou cupped Shari’s warm, slender hand where it lay between them on the table. “I have a booklet that I could give you.”

  Shari looked surprised. “To keep?”

  Sister Lou squeezed Shari’s hand before releasing her. “Of course, you can keep it.”

  “Thank you.” Unshed tears sparkled in Shari’s cocoa eyes. It was as though she still wasn’t used to receiving gifts.

  Sister Lou tossed her friend a grin to lighten the mood. “Maybe you can give up coffee for Lent next year.”

  Shari snorted. “I’d rather give up bathing.”

  * * *

  Laughter—carefree, high-pitched, and feminine—filled the reception area of the Briar Coast mayor’s office early Monday morning.

  Mayor Heather Stanley turned away from her administrative assistant’s desk and toward the sound of the levity. “Good morning, Kerry.”

  Kerry Fletcher’s laughter left behind a radiant smile. The administrative assistant’s light brown eyes sparkled and a faint blush dusted her milky cheeks. “Good morning, Mayor Stanley.”

  Heather had just placed a report on Kerry’s desk, which was outside of her office, when her administrative assistant had appeared as though on cue. Kerry’s new boyfriend, Jefferson Manning, was with her. Heather estimated that the couple had been dating for almost a month.

  Jefferson worked for a conservative city councilman in Buffalo. In decent traffic, Buffalo’s city hall was at least forty minutes from Briar Coast. Despite his comparatively long commute, Jefferson had been chauffeuring Kerry to and from work every day, and met her for lunch on occasion. That meant some days Jefferson wouldn’t get to his job until well after eight a.m. and he’d leave his office before five p.m. His boss must have very forgiving office hours. Heather enjoyed a good love story as well as the next employer, but she wouldn’t stand for such a blatant lack of commitment from her staff.

  “Good morning, Mayor.” Jefferson inclined his head toward her. His wavy golden blond hair was expensively cut to complement his sharp features. His dark brown eyes were watchful as though not quite certain of his welcome.

  The clock above the office entrance they’d just walked through showed that there was still ten minutes before the eight o’clock hour. Jefferson was welcome for the next nine.

  “Hello, Jefferson.” Heather made a point of looking at her rose gold Shinola bracelet wristwatch, a gift from her well-off parents, before returning to her office.

  Her three-inch navy pumps were silent as she crossed her office’s thin wall-to-wall slate gray carpet. She rounded her well-organized walnut wood desk, which stood beside her matching rectangular conference table. Heather settled onto her padded, black faux leather executive chair. She logged back on to her computer and continued reviewing her e-mails. The accumulated flood of transmissions would have been so much greater if she didn’t monitor her electronic in-box over the weekend. Still, judging by the time stamp on many of this morning’s messages, she wasn’t the only early riser.

  Several minutes later, Kerry strode into Heather’s office. The younger woman’s curly strawberry blond hair swung around her plump doll-like features. Her navy blue coatdress skimmed her curvy figure.

  Heather completed her final e-mail reply. She took a bracing drink from her second cup of coffee as she watched Kerry deposit a daunting bundle of mail into the black metal in-box that stood on the corner of the desk.

  Heather fought the urge to ask her assistant to take the mail and bury it in the landscaping behind the town hall. “Thank you, Kerry.”

  The bright smile the youn
ger woman tossed her way shimmered with the reflection of young love. It was also infectious. “You’re welcome, Mayor Stanley. It’s a lot easier getting to work on time now that I’m carpooling with Jeff. And we have so much in common since we both work for local government.”

  “That’s nice, Kerry. I’m happy for you.” Heather kept her smile in place as Kerry gushed. “Let me know as soon as you’ve received the minutes from Friday’s town planning meeting, please.”

  “Right away, Mayor Stanley.” Kerry’s curls swung as she turned to stride from the office.

  Heather switched her attention to her physical mail. She bit back a groan. Whose bright idea was it for her to handle her own correspondence?

  Oh, that’s right. It was mine.

  She grabbed a handful of correspondence off the top of the stack and started sorting through it. A plain white business envelope stood out from among the customized stationery, postcards, and oversized manila mailers.

  The cheap envelope was addressed to her only by name, Mayor Heather Stanley. There was no stamp. No return address. Still the mail piece was eerily familiar. She’d received correspondence like this one last Wednesday.

  Heather retrieved her black ink retractable pen from her desktop. It shook in her grip as she used it to open this latest mysterious letter. Dread weighted her muscles. With trembling fingers, she pulled out the plain white eight-and-a-half-by-eleven sheet of copier paper. It also had a disturbing familiarity. Heather read the brief message. Her heart lodged in her throat. This second note was verbatim to the first. Outsider, if you know what’s good for you, don’t run for reelection. Leave Briar Coast.

  Chapter 2

  The threat was direct, succinct, and chilling. The message left no hint of the culprit’s identity. Who would send these anonymous notes?