Third Half Read online

  "Okay, Liane. I see it's the only way." The nun sank back against her pillows, drained, as much from making the decision as from her illness. "But what if they find out I'm still in here?"

  "They won't. Why would they look for you once they know where you are?"

  "How long do you think all this will take? I may be discharged soon. Oh Goodness, everything is going wrong! First Jack disappears, then the money, then I get sick, now you're wanted for murder." Mary Catherine wrung her hands, biting her lip. "I have a feeling I may not be going to make my trip to South America"

  "Maybe it won't have to be delayed for too long," Liane tried to reassure her, knowing how much the trip meant to her sister.

  "If you're pretending to be me, and you're well, my trip wouldn't have to be delayed at all. That could complicate things even more. I was going to call the Mother Superior today and explain what happened."

  "I'll tell you what. You give me twenty-four hours. I'll be you until tomorrow night. Then I'll call you and let you know what I've found out. If I'm no closer to an answer, I'll square everything for you with the Mother Superior."

  "And you'll square everything with the police?"

  "Okay, and the police." Liane promised as she opened the closet, taking out the black and white habit. "I hope I can still pretend I'm you as well as when we were kids."

  Mary Catherine sighed and shook her head. "It won't be as easy now that we've grown up, Liane. We're so different now. For one thing, your hair is a little longer than mine."

  "No one will see it under this," Liane said as she looked more closely at her sister's habit. She made a face. "This looks awfully hot. I've often thought that your Order should have switched to something a bit more up-to-date. I've seen some Sisters wearing habits that look a lot more comfortable."

  "Maybe they are, but it's not about comfort. This is what I have, and if you're going to be me you'll have to wear it. Besides . . . I still have my doubts about trying to pull this off." Mary Catherine twisted the corner of her sheet between her nervous fingers. "You know your hair has some lighter streaks than mine."

  "Sun-bleached."

  "Come to think of it, you have more suntan on your face. Oh Liane," Mary Catherine sighed, "Mother Superior will definitely notice the difference. She's very observant."

  "I'll just have to stay out of her way. And if I do cross her path, I'll have the opportunity to see just how good an actress I really am."

  "Are you sure you can do this?"

  "If I chicken out now, we'll never know." Liane crossed the room to the adjoining bathroom.

  Moments later she returned to stand beside her sister's bed. "What do you think?" Liane asked as she did a pirouette. "Do you think I make a pretty good Sister Mary Catherine?"

  "That will depend on that acting you mentioned. How much do you remember about the nuns at the orphanage?"

  "They were quiet and seemed to see almost everything we did. Like they had eyes everywhere."

  "Observant. That's what Mother Superior calls it. And like I said, she is good at it." Mary Catherine frowned, still uncertain. "You don't even talk like me."

  "Okay, I can forget my voice lessons. I'll speak softly, and in a serene voice." She purposely lowered her voice in an attempt to show how she would speak."

  "That's not exactly me either. Somewhere in the middle. Oh . . .never mind." Mary Catherine shook her head. "You'll only have to get through the rest of tonight. Tomorrow is silent Sunday."

  "I remember those. We used to try our best to get the sisters to speak."

  Mary Catherine laughed. "And some children at the orphanage still do. So be forewarned."

  "The children . . .I almost forgot about them. I suppose I'll have to practice patience."

  "They'll be harder to fool. Fortunately, you won't have as much to do with them tomorrow," Mary Catherine said as she watched her sister pick up the telephone. "What are you doing now?"

  "I'm calling the police to ask to speak to someone in charge of the investigation. I'll tell them I'm you, and that I've been hospitalized . . .. And that after hearing the news about my sister, I talked my doctor into discharging me early. I will sound very concerned and . . ."

  Liane turned her attention back to the phone as someone answered. "Hello . . .I'm calling about the murder investigation of the man in Los Angeles. I heard they are looking for my sister, Liane Spencer. This is so upsetting. I have to talk to someone and straighten things out! My sister would never do anything like that. I'm sure she doesn't even know anything about it."

  Liane winked at Mary Catherine, "So far so good. They're getting the man in charge." Liane went on with her act when the man in charge, Sergeant Adams, came to the phone.

  "Well, what did they say?" Mary Catherine asked when Liane hung up.

  "I better go outside right away. They wormed it out of Martin that you're here. But only after going to my apartment, then to the convent, looking for me. The Mother Superior told them she talked to me last night when I told her you were spending the night with me because you weren't feeling well. They already knew I wasn't at my apartment, so they went straight back to Martin. They certainly did their homework. And fast."

  "I'll say so!" Mary Catherine added. "They know all about me, and Martin too."

  "Yes, must be the computers." Liane shrugged. "Poor Martin, he probably feels like he betrayed me. I'll have to let him know it's all right – at least someday I will." Liane opened the door and glanced outside, turning to look first up, then down the long corridor. "But not now. I have to get out of here."

  "Good luck, Liane," Mary Catherine said as her sister looked back over her shoulder one more time and gave her a thumbs-up.

  "All's clear to the stairs. I'll see ya later." With that Liane stepped out of the room and headed straight for the stairs. Once down, she didn't look back as she walked toward the large glass doors leading outside. She could see two men in blue uniforms just ready to step inside the hospital entrance.

  "Oh you are very fast," she said approaching them. "I appreciate that. I'd hate to stand and wait. I'm still very tired, and after everything that's been happening . . ." She sighed and drooped her shoulders in the pretense of exhaustion.

  Both the officers looked at her strangely, before looking back at each other. "We were supposed to see a patient here."

  "Oh my goodness! Then you aren't the two officers Sergeant Adams said would give me transportation to the police station?"

  "When did he say that?" the older of the two officers asked.

  "Only a moment ago, Corporal Rapchinski," she said as she read the name plate he was wearing. "I spoke to him on the telephone. I wanted to tell him I was being discharged and wanted to speak to him about my sister. It seems she's wanted for questioning in some kind of murder investigation. I have to explain that there must be some mistake. Liane would never . . .!"

  "Okay, just a minute," Corporal Rapchinski said before turning to the younger man. "We probably missed the call, Al. You better check."

  Liane held her breath as they guided her toward their squad car. She watched as the younger officer spoke into the radio.

  "Step inside Miss . . .Sister," the young officer said as he opened the car door for her. "We're to take you straight to the station."

  I

  "But Sergeant Adams, I know my sister. She would never take the life of another human being," Liane insisted within moments of being seated by the sergeant's huge metal desk.

  "Now, as I've been trying to explain, she is only wanted for questioning," the kindly gray haired officer tried to reassure her. "She is what's called a person of interest."

  "But the news implied there are no other suspects."

  "At the moment, the L.A. police can't rule anyone out," the Sergeant explained.

  "In that case, since you have no other suspects, Liane is the number one suspect, as they say. Am I correct?"

  The man left out a long tired breath, his pale eyes raised toward the ceiling. Liane wa
s tempted to remind him He was probably more apt to listen to her, but thought better of it. That could be over-acting just a bit.

  "Yes Sister, she is the only person of interest," the Sergeant finally admitted, though still carefully not using the word suspect. "I'm sorry. I had hoped to spare you. I know how concerned you are by the way you sounded on the phone."

  "Of course I am, she's my sister! I only wish there was something I could do to help her. But if she's hiding, and doesn't try to contact me, I don't see how I can."

  "Sister, the best thing you can do for your sister is to call us if she does contact you."

  "And tell you where she is?"

  "Or better still . . " The Sergeant gave a weak smile. "talk her into coming to us herself."

  "I'll try that, Sir, if she calls me. Really I will. I can see the sense in that."

  The Sergeant looked relieved. "Now why don't I have someone drive you back to the convent. You look like you could use some rest."

  "Thank you, but I really would rather be alone for a little while. I may just stop at Saint Patrick's Cathedral on my way. There's something about being there that helps rejuvenate my spirit and restore my strength. I'm sure you understand."

  "Yes, I understand, even though I'm not Catholic."

  "Now, if you don't mind I'll be on my way."

  "Of course, but are you certain you don't want a squad car to drop you?"

  "No thank you, Sir. I appreciate your kindness, but I do think the fresh air and sunshine would be good for me."

  Liane walked a little over a block before turning to make certain there were no policemen in sight. Seeing it was safe, she hailed the first passing taxi cab. She was anxious to get to her apartment to see if the letter from her brother had arrived.

  The bright yellow vehicle screeched to a halt, nearly passing her as she stood on the curb.

  "Thank you," she said, unable to disguise her surprise. She wondered if her sister always found it this easy to hail a cab. Most New Yorkers agreed that getting a cab in this city was next to impossible and when one did pull to the curb it was like racing a herd of thirsty cattle to the watering hole.

  She was even more surprised when the cabby jumped out of his side of the car and opened the door for her. This is unheard of.

  "Ah Sister, get right in," the Cabby said with a heavy Spanish accent. "Where would the good Sister like to go?" he asked after returning behind the wheel.

  She noted the grey streaks in the Puerto Rican driver's dark hair, and the weary lines around his eyes. Yet the smile he gave her was warm and genuine.

  She gave him the address and listened quietly as the man suddenly burst into an account of the problems in his life. Now she knew why he had been so happy to give her the ride. If she

  had been a priest, she supposed, she'd have gotten even faster service. She must have seemed the next best thing to this troubled man.

  "And Sister, if you could light a candle for my daughter, Rosita," the man finally concluded. "Pray that she comes to her senses and doesn't marry that free-loading bum. Please excuse the description – but it is true. Ronaldo hasn't worked a day since he moved in with us. I'm afraid if he marries my Rosita, I will have to support him the rest of my life."

  "I will say a prayer for you and your family," Liane promised, hiding a smile. Then she handed him the fare with a slight tip, knowing she may not be able to spare the extra money.

  He hesitated a moment, as though deciding whether to keep the tip, then smiled and thanked her.

  "So much for the advantages of being M.C.," she said to herself as she approached her building. "Oh well, from the sound of it, that poor man needs the money."

  Tipping the cabby had reminded her that money could be a problem if she couldn't get into her apartment and get her debit card.

  She never carried the money access card with her so she wouldn't be tempted to withdraw cash on a whim. She knew using it now could not be counted as a whim.

  She smiled and nodded to the guard on duty as she approached, hoping he was no better at his job than the man who worked during the week. Often a familiar face was allowed through the second set of doors without calling upstairs on the intercom first. If he called for permission today she knew there would be no answer.

  She clutched her key tightly as she entered the first set of doors.

  Third Half – P.R. Garlick

  "Excuse me, Sister," the doorman said, stopping her. "I have to call upstairs before you can enter." He looked apologetic. "It's the rule."

  "I understand." She forced a smile, knowing under ordinary circumstances she would be grateful for his efficiency.

  "Who are you here to see?"

  "Ms Spencer . . .Liane Spencer," she replied, then the moment he returned to the glass-enclosed area where he'd make the call, she turned quickly to the mailboxes behind her. At least she would have time to check her mail.

  Inserting the key, she opened the metal box, fumbling with the letters inside. She found a letter from a girlfriend, two bills, and another plain white envelope. The tiny, cramped script was quickly recognized as her brother's handwriting and she could see that it had been first sent to her old apartment. That explained the delay in receiving it.

  She stuffed the other letters back into the box and turned just in time to see the Security Guard returning. "I'm sorry, there's no answer," he said.

  "No problem," she replied, knowing she had gotten part of what she came for. Turning she started to leave, noting two men in tailored suits stepping through the doorway and approaching the doorman. She had never seen either of them before, but somehow she knew instinctively they were there to see her.

  Slipping the letter inside her blouse, and squaring her shoulders she stepped past them as they spoke to the guard.

  She passed through the doors and was halfway down the steps when she heard swift footsteps behind her.

  "Excuse me," one of the men said politely as he gently touched her shoulder.

  "Yes, are you speaking to me?" she asked, turning slowly to face him.

  "You're Sister Mary Catherine," he stated.

  She noticed he hadn't asked. He already knew who she was, or was supposed to be. "Yes, I am." She gave him a weak smile. "But I'm afraid you have the advantage. I don't believe I know you." She silently prayed that her sister didn't know this man. "How do you know me?"

  "That's our job," the man responded as the other man joined him. The two men reached into the breast pocket of their suits and simultaneously pulled out small black cases. Opened, she saw their identification. "We're with the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Special Task Force. I'm Special Agent Steel; this is Special Agent Knight."

  "Is there someplace we can talk in private?" Agent Knight asked.

  "I don't seem to understand what you would like to speak to me about."

  "Your sister."

  "Liane! Do you know where she is?"

  "No, we thought maybe you might know that."

  "I wish I did. Everyone seems interested in her whereabouts. They all seem intent on hurting her. And now . . .now the FBI too! Tell me, what are your reasons?"

  "To help her."

  She didn't have to feign a skeptical look as she cocked her head to the side. "And how can you help her? "

  "At the moment, we may be able to help her by just finding her."

  "As I said, many people are trying to do that."

  "You realize she's only wanted for questioning?"

  "Just a moment ago, I spoke to a New York Policeman who seemed to give the impression it would be a bit more than questioning. He called her a person of interest."

  "The police are pushing on this case. It seems that her disappearance has made things look worse than they may really be."

  "Sir, from her point-of-view, I'm sure things couldn't be any worse. You see, she did go to see that man who was killed. She was trying to locate our brother, and had no success. She called me after speaking to him. She was leaving for home. I haven't
heard from her since."

  Liane knew that everything she told them could easily be verified, and besides, she was certain if the FBI was involved, there was a good chance they already knew.

  "When was this?"

  "This afternoon," she replied, then continued her explanation. "You see yesterday we went to our brother's home in Connecticut. He was supposed to be there. We were looking forward to seeing him. The people who look after his home said they didn't know what happened, but that he would ordinarily call if he were delayed. It's not like Jack to leave people wondering."

  "Jack, your brother?"

  "Yes, Jack Spencer. He's an entertainer and travels quite extensively. But as I said, he was supposed to be home when we went there."

  "I see. Did anything else happen that would warrant your sister flying all the way to Los Angeles to see your brother's agent?"

  "Actually, we called Mr. Devereaux first. He insisted he hadn't even heard of Jack. We both knew he was Jack's agent. We couldn't understand why he would lie. I've been so upset, I don't know what to do. And now this horrible murder investigation. First Jack disappears, now Liane. It's all such a mess!"

  "Calm down Sister," Agent Knight said softly, his grey eyes showing true concern. He turned to his partner. "That producer said she hasn't been well."

  "All this is just too difficult to understand," Liane sobbed. "Please forgive me. I guess I'm just letting my emotions get carried away . . ." Then she looked up to judge the effect of her charade, and was pleased to see both men looked worried.

  "Did I hear you mention Mr. Sloane?" she asked, hoping to learn more from them. "Have you spoken to him? He might know where my sister is. He's been seeing her lately and I know she trusts him."

  "We spoke to him just after the police. It seems he doesn't know where she is either. By the time we arrived at the hospital, you were leaving with the police."

  "And you followed me?"

  "We are sometimes more thorough than they are, Sister. We thought that maybe you'd tell us something you didn't tell them."

  "I wish there was something I could tell you. I get the feeling that you may be able to help my sister. And she does need someone to help her."