Murder Superior(52)

Bennis whispered in his ear, “You know what Sister Angelus just told me? That woman carrying the ice sculpture for Mother Mary Bellarmine is the unfortunate Joan Esther. How do you think that came about?”

“Coincidence,” Gregor said firmly.

“I say it was deliberate,” Bennis said. “Joan Esther has had enough, so she’s got herself taken on as Mother Mary Bellarmine’s temporary lackey. Only the thing is, she’s poisoned the whatever it is—”

“Bennis,” Gregor warned.

“—as soon as Mother Mary Bellarmine takes the first bite, wham. What do you think of that?” Bennis said this with relish.

“I think you ought to be locked up,” Gregor said.

“My father thought that, too, and he tried, but even with his money he couldn’t make them do it. Look at Norman Kevic. If that man gets any closer to that table, his molecules will merge.”

Gregor looked at the last ice sculpture in the row. There was a hollowed-out part at the back of its head that was indeed filled with food. “What do they have in those things?” he asked Sister Mary Angelus. Sister Mary Angelus shrugged.

“Chicken liver pâté,” she said. “It’s not something I like, but nobody thought to give us any caviar. I suppose they think it isn’t suitable for nuns. That’s Sister Domenica Anne at the end there, by the way, carrying the tray for Mother Andrew Loretta. Mother Andrew Loretta is from Japan.”

“Who’s the woman who looks like Woodstock revisited in old age?” Bennis asked.

Gregor looked in the direction she was pointing and decided that her description was more than apt. The grey-haired woman looked painfully awkward and excruciatingly out of date, as ridiculous as a man would have if he’d shown up in this place wearing plus fours and spats. She was not, however, any one Sister Angelus knew.

“I think she works for the college somewhere,” Sister Angelus said. “I’ve seen her around. What’s she carrying?”

“She’s got a lot of roses wrapped in paper,” Bennis said. “She’s with a nun.”

“Oh, the nun,” Sister Angelus said. “That’s Catherine Grace. She works in the Registrar’s Office. I knew that woman looked familiar. She works in the Registrar’s Office, too. I don’t remember her name. But we all had to go over there to get our room keys, and I met her.”

“Room keys through the Registrar’s Office,” Bennis said. “What a concept.”

“Oh, my Heavens,” Sister Angelus said. “That’s Nancy Hare.”

Gregor swung around to find Nancy Hare, but he didn’t have a chance. The crowd was impenetrable and there was too much going on at the tables. Reverend Mother General stepped forward. She clapped her hands together sharply and silenced everyone in the room. Gregor told himself it happened because the nuns were used to those clapping hands, but it seemed eerie to him nonetheless.

Reverend Mother General raised her hand to her forehead. “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Bless us O Lord—”

The nuns finished. “—and these thy gifts which we are about to receive from thy bounty.

“Through Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with You in unity with the Holy Spirit. Amen.”

“Amen.”

“Sister Agnes Bernadette,” Reverend Mother General told the crowd, “who is Sister Cook for the convent here at St. Elizabeth’s, has made for all the Mothers Provincial and for myself these ice sculptures in our honor, and she has done us the great favor of making them all alike. Not one of us has to be reminded of her imperfections. When I look at this sculpture of myself, I am not old. When Mother Maria Hilde looks at hers, she is not fat. This is what God has promised to do for us all at the Resurrection of the Body, except of course not in ice. I for one very much appreciate this intimation of immortality as provided for me by Sister.”

All the nuns laughed. Gregor didn’t know what for.

“Now,” Reverend Mother said, “I know you’re all hungry—”

A good-humored groan went up from the crowd.

“And I know Sister Agnes Bernadette is anxious to feed you. She’s got enough food coming up to feed the greater metropolitan area. So let’s get started. If the Mothers Provincial are ready—”

“Oh, we’re ready,” Mother Mary Deborah said in her thick Australian drawl.

The crowd laughed again.

“Mother of God, give us food,” someone in the back prayed, and the crowd laughed again.

“I’m sure the Mother of God was a very good cook,” Reverend Mother General said. “Mothers, if you will, please.”