understand — he was not a part of this convent.”
“He took mass here.”
“Indeed. But that was his only involvement.”
“You seem very sure about that.”
“You can hardly fail to have noticed that we have fallen on hard times. We can barely support the building. But we are about to benefit from a significant investment — discussions are at a crucial and sensitive stage. We cannot — we must not — suffer any adverse publicity. The order — all our good works — could so easily … perish.”
“I’m sorry, Sister,” said Sarah. “Are you suggesting we don’t go to the police with what we’ve found?”
“I’m asking you to … please … give us a few days to allow God to do his work.”
“I’m not sure we can do that. We are talking about a possible murder.”
The Mother Superior shook her head.
“Then we are done here. And I must ask you to leave.”
With that, the nun got up from her seat and showed Sarah the door.
9. A Tale of Two Countries
Sarah walked out of the convent and took a deep breath, as if the cloistered atmosphere of the building — paired with the stern glances of Sister Mary — had made it difficult to breathe.
And she also now had the distinct feeling that the building and those inside it could keep secrets quite well.
Did they have any secrets? And would she and Jack be able to learn them?
They had faced difficult situations before, people who clearly didn’t want to talk. But with Father Byrne’s death looking more like murder — albeit one she didn’t understand — Sarah felt a drive to get answers somehow.
I’ve become a bit like Jack, she thought.
Not happy until I know what really happened, how it happened, and who did it.
But real life was beckoning — tons of work waiting to be done back at her office. That was a good thing. Though it would be hard to shake off the thoughts of this — what was now — the mystery of Eamon Byrne.
As Sarah turned down the path heading to the small car park and her Rav-4, she saw two people strolling together, engaged in animated conversation.
She had spotted them first, walking side by side, a young woman nodding, a tall man gesturing.
Then, as Sarah kept walking, they finally noticed her.
And as if a brake had been applied, the pair stopped talking.
Sarah recognised them from the fête: the other two retreaters.
Out for a stroll…
And another quick thought: Gustav had said that the three went their own ways. Yet these two seemed tight, chatting furiously.
Then — that suspicious moment, seeing her and they stopped.
With thoughts of the “brick wall” that Mother Superior had become — now when she might face the scandal of a murder — Sarah wanted to talk to these two.
Only steps away, with the two people looking in the other direction, Sarah stopped and said, “Hi.”
A quick glance from the pair, a nod from the man, as they kept on moving.
Sarah turned to face them as they tried to sail past.
“Excuse me — I’m wondering if you could help me?”
And then, getting a palpable feeling of reluctance from them, they finally stopped.
The woman still looked away; the man though, grim-faced, looked right at Sarah.
‘Yes,” he said. “What is it?”
An American.
Interesting. To come all the way here…
“I’ve just been speaking with the Mother Superior. I’ve been looking into the death of Father Byrne.”
The woman gave a quick look to the man at her side.
Struck a nerve there.
“Yes, very sad. The whole community here … all very sad at the news.”
Sarah nodded.
“And you, you’re here for the retreat?”
Now the woman finally made eye contact with Sarah.
“Yes,” she said, in a gentle French accent. “We are.”
“Right. I’m Sarah by the way.” She stuck out a hand.
The man took it for a perfunctory shake. “Tom.”
“Isabel,” the woman said, timidly extending a hand as if at gunpoint.
These two look scared, Sarah thought.
“I’m wondering if I might
“He took mass here.”
“Indeed. But that was his only involvement.”
“You seem very sure about that.”
“You can hardly fail to have noticed that we have fallen on hard times. We can barely support the building. But we are about to benefit from a significant investment — discussions are at a crucial and sensitive stage. We cannot — we must not — suffer any adverse publicity. The order — all our good works — could so easily … perish.”
“I’m sorry, Sister,” said Sarah. “Are you suggesting we don’t go to the police with what we’ve found?”
“I’m asking you to … please … give us a few days to allow God to do his work.”
“I’m not sure we can do that. We are talking about a possible murder.”
The Mother Superior shook her head.
“Then we are done here. And I must ask you to leave.”
With that, the nun got up from her seat and showed Sarah the door.
9. A Tale of Two Countries
Sarah walked out of the convent and took a deep breath, as if the cloistered atmosphere of the building — paired with the stern glances of Sister Mary — had made it difficult to breathe.
And she also now had the distinct feeling that the building and those inside it could keep secrets quite well.
Did they have any secrets? And would she and Jack be able to learn them?
They had faced difficult situations before, people who clearly didn’t want to talk. But with Father Byrne’s death looking more like murder — albeit one she didn’t understand — Sarah felt a drive to get answers somehow.
I’ve become a bit like Jack, she thought.
Not happy until I know what really happened, how it happened, and who did it.
But real life was beckoning — tons of work waiting to be done back at her office. That was a good thing. Though it would be hard to shake off the thoughts of this — what was now — the mystery of Eamon Byrne.
As Sarah turned down the path heading to the small car park and her Rav-4, she saw two people strolling together, engaged in animated conversation.
She had spotted them first, walking side by side, a young woman nodding, a tall man gesturing.
Then, as Sarah kept walking, they finally noticed her.
And as if a brake had been applied, the pair stopped talking.
Sarah recognised them from the fête: the other two retreaters.
Out for a stroll…
And another quick thought: Gustav had said that the three went their own ways. Yet these two seemed tight, chatting furiously.
Then — that suspicious moment, seeing her and they stopped.
With thoughts of the “brick wall” that Mother Superior had become — now when she might face the scandal of a murder — Sarah wanted to talk to these two.
Only steps away, with the two people looking in the other direction, Sarah stopped and said, “Hi.”
A quick glance from the pair, a nod from the man, as they kept on moving.
Sarah turned to face them as they tried to sail past.
“Excuse me — I’m wondering if you could help me?”
And then, getting a palpable feeling of reluctance from them, they finally stopped.
The woman still looked away; the man though, grim-faced, looked right at Sarah.
‘Yes,” he said. “What is it?”
An American.
Interesting. To come all the way here…
“I’ve just been speaking with the Mother Superior. I’ve been looking into the death of Father Byrne.”
The woman gave a quick look to the man at her side.
Struck a nerve there.
“Yes, very sad. The whole community here … all very sad at the news.”
Sarah nodded.
“And you, you’re here for the retreat?”
Now the woman finally made eye contact with Sarah.
“Yes,” she said, in a gentle French accent. “We are.”
“Right. I’m Sarah by the way.” She stuck out a hand.
The man took it for a perfunctory shake. “Tom.”
“Isabel,” the woman said, timidly extending a hand as if at gunpoint.
These two look scared, Sarah thought.
“I’m wondering if I might
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