A Novena for Murder Read Free

hungry look.”
    “Welcome, Sister.” He ushered her inside. “We are so glad to have you.” He ran his hand over his straight hair. “Your wisdom will be a real asset to our history department.”
    Mary Helen knew bunk when she heard it. Why, the man had just met her. How in the world would he know whether she was wise or not? Unless he thought it came with age. She wanted to tell him that someone had once said, “The older I grow, the more I distrust the familiar doctrine that age brings wisdom.” Instead, she threw back a little bunk of herown. “I’m looking forward to working in your department, Professor.”
    Professor Villanueva dropped into the high-backed swivel chair behind his desk. “Please, be seated.” His smile was broad and practiced. Mary Helen sat on the edge of a small, brown chair facing him. His eyes remained untouched. After fifty years in the classroom, she considered herself an expert on eyes.
    She glanced around the office. Like everything else about the professor, it was a study in perfection. Polished oak desk, elegant, yet understated desk set, a
ficus-benjaminus
flourishing in a muted ceramic pot, an oil painting of three mallards flying into a soft sunset.
    Macho, down to the last neatly housed paper clip! She looked through her bifocals at the leather-bound volumes lining the bookshelves. Only a large bronze statue precisely placed at the end of the third row broke the symmetry.
    Rapidly, the professor outlined several research projects. She might be interested in pursuing one, he suggested. She wasn’t, but he didn’t pause long enough for her to reply. As he spoke, he nervously clicked his pencil against his front teeth and swiveled his chair toward the small window behind the desk. Obviously, the young man had other things on his mind.
    So did Mary Helen. Nonetheless, she folded her hands in her lap and forced herself to look attentive. It was all she could do to fight down her schoolmarm urge to tell him to sit still and stop fidgeting.
    Abruptly, the professor stood. “You think about these ideas, Sister. Perhaps you have some of your own, as well. We’ll talk more later.”
    Meeting adjourned. Ushering her out of his office, the professor gave her a big smile and a handshake. But the smile still didn’t reach his eyes.
    The college bell gonged out the hour. Ten o’clock. Perfect timing for her coffee break, Mary Helen thought. For fifty years she had considered her morning and afternoon coffee breaks essential. She regarded those few quiet moments she took twice daily to blow and sip and think a contemplative experience. At this stage of her life, she had no intention of changing that habit.
    Turning right, she moved down the long corridor leading to the back of the building and the kitchen/dining-room area where both the students and the nuns had their meals. Separate but equal dining rooms, her friend Eileen called the arrangement.
    “Glad to see you’re finding your way around.” Sister Anne’s voice startled Mary Helen. Curious, she had not heard the young nun pad up behind her. She glanced at Anne’s feet. They were shod with laced moccasiny-looking affairs.
    “Paiutes.” Anne wiggled her toes.
    “Humph!” was the only comment Mary Helen could think of to make.
    “It’s ten o’clock,” said Sister Therese, who preferred her name pronounced “trays,” rushing by. Loose tiles clinked under her busy feet. “You knowhow the kitchen staff likes us to get our coffee and get out so they can get on with lunch.”
    Sister Therese did not wait for a response. In addition to being slightly high-strung, Therese was slightly deaf.
    Anne spoke out of the corner of her mouth, just in case. Apparently, she had learned from experience that it was difficult to predict when Sister Therese’s hearing would suddenly improve. “I know what young Leonel likes,” she said. “He wants us to finish coffee so he can have some time alone with his girl friend before starting