Murder Superior(64)

“I think I just had this identical conversation with Sister Mary Alice,” Gregor said.

“I don’t think so,” Sister Mary Celestine told him. “You see, I was standing right next to her. To Sister Joan Esther, I mean. When she died. I was standing right up against that table the whole time the sculptures were being brought in and Reverend Mother General was making her speech and—well, everything. Do you see?”

“I don’t know,” Gregor said.

“I think I do,” Bennis jumped in. “I think Sister saw something.”

“Well, I didn’t see anything sinister.” Sister Mary Celestine shook her head. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time. I mean, I’m assigned to St. Elizabeth’s. I live and work here. I’ve met Norman Kevic a dozen times.”

“What has Norman Kevic got to do with it?” Gregor asked.

“He picked up the ice sculpture,” Sister Mary Celestine said promptly. “I saw him do it. He was weaving in and out among the tables, trying to get something to eat. You know how he is. And he’s good at that, at insinuating himself in places where he’s not supposed to be. Not that anyone was paying any attention to him. I mean, Norman is Norman. And there was such a crowd.”

“But he picked up the statue,” Gregor prompted.

“That’s right.”

“When?”

“While Reverend Mother was making her speech. All the sculptures had been put down on the tables, and he was at the table closest to the door. When Reverend Mother started talking he picked that statue up there—I forget who that belongs to—and then he started working his way down the line of tables. He’d just got to Mother Mary Bellarmine’s table when Reverend Mother started to wind up her remarks, and he stopped.”

“But he picked up the statue.”

“Oh, yes.”

“By the head?” Gregor asked. “By the feet? How?”

“Oh, by the feet,” Sister Mary Celestine said. “It was most definitely by the feet and by the shoulders, if you know what I mean. He picked it up the way you’d pick up any statue and turned it over in his hands.”

“And then what?”

“Then he put it down again,” Mother Mary Celestine said. “Oh, dear. This all sounds so trivial. And it probably was trivial. Norman was probably just being Norman. He’s like that.”

Gregor considered everything she had told him. He didn’t like it. It was too complicated, and it seemed to rest too much on chance. Granted, there was a huge crowd. If Norman Kevic had been intent on poisoning the pâté and killing someone, he couldn’t have counted on going unseen. He had been, after all, a man in a crowd of nuns.

“Did Norman Kevic know the Sister who died? Sister Joan Esther?”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Sister Mary Celestine said. “Joan Esther lived in Alaska, and before that she lived in California, at the Provincial House. I don’t think she’s been out East since her formation.”

“What about Mother Mary Bellarmine? Would Norman Kevic have known her?”

“Well, they certainly would have met Norman has been very involved in our field house project, and Mother Mary Bellarmine was a consultant on that. That’s because she’s built similar things for our Order in other places. They must have been at meetings together off and on all last week.”

“I thought you said you weren’t going to be involved in this case,” Bennis said.

“Involved or not involved, I like my world to make sense,” Gregor told her.

Bennis raised an eyebrow. Sister Mary Celestine was still standing patiently before them, her hands clasped next to her waist and her face expectant. Gregor tried to concentrate on her.

“Well, Sister,” he said, “I’m glad you told me all this. I hope you understand that you also have to tell the police.”

“I’ll tell the police,” Sister Mary Celestine said, “and when I do I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

“Yes,” Gregor said. “Well. My point here is that this is very significant information, even if it comes to nothing, and you shouldn’t think you don’t have to say anything to Lieutenant Androcetti because you talked to me—”

“I don’t think that,” Sister Mary Celestine said, “but I tried to talk to three different police officers and none of them would listen to me. I suppose they were the wrong police officers, but what was I to do?”

“I don’t know,” Gregor said. “Did you notice the young black officer giving orders in the reception room?”