Page 13 of Bringing Chelsea Home

“Sister Bernie was like family to me.” Elaine defended her request. “I’ll take leave without pay if necessary. The last time I checked, I had three months’ vacation time built up, and I haven’t called in sick for over a year, so why not use it?”

“Do the police know yet why someone would kill Sister Bernadette?” Gibbons demanded.

“No,” Elaine said, and hearing the lie, Griff sent a silent thanks that Grant Miller’s press release only stated that Sister Bernie’s “tragic death” was a random killing, and the police were actively hunting for her killer without a hint of Elaine being the intended target.

“I don’t think you realize how serious this could be, Prescott,” Gibbons continued. “Since Sister Nolan got herself killed, patients have been cancelling their appointments like crazy. A lot of them knew you were friends, so they’re probably scared to come. That’s not good for business. Why did she come to see you on Monday?” He pushed a hand through a tangle of brown hair, then tugged at his badly tied tie. “Why?”

“I wanted to tell her about my being chosen to work with Tennessee Task Force,” Elaine said. “And Sister Bernie didn’t ask to be stabbed in the middle of the street.”

Gibbons actually pouted, his lower lip jutting out like Griff’s five-year-old nephew when he didn’t get his way. “Lots of strange people go to The Wellness Clinic,” he complained. “Unpredictable and untrustworthy and too often can’t pay for their services.”

“Many of our clients use The Wellness Clinic,” Elaine countered. “Are you calling them strange and untrustworthy?”

“Of course not,” Gibbons spluttered. “But by the first of the year, our clients will have another choice for their primary care. Families United is merging with Windermere Health group and we’ll be offering in-house primary care. In fact, I think we may insist on it. And I’m not at all sure about us being involved with this Tennessee Task Force thing.”

“It’s a done deal,” Elaine argued. “Cliff-”

“Actually, Cliff slightly exaggerated that,” Gibbons interrupted, his smile more of a sneer. “And I’m going to warn you right now, Prescott, Windermere’s board of directors doesn’t like adverse publicity. Being associated with someone who was murdered is adverse publicity. You can have the rest of the week off, but I’ll expect you back in the office next Monday.”

“Wait a minute” Elaine shouted but Gibbons’ image vanished. She slammed down the laptop’s lid. “Idiot!”

“He’s a sweetheart.” Griff joining her, put the tray with the cups on the table and sat beside her. “Why does he call you Prescott and not Elaine or even Ms. Prescott? Sounds downright rude if not disrespectful.”

“He doesn’t like me.” She added cream to her coffee from the pot on the tray.

Griff propped his elbows onto the table and rested his chin in his hand. “No kidding. Why the hell not?”

A twinkle emerged from the depths of her eyes. “Years ago, when Monty and I were both level two social workers, and shortly after I started working at the agency, he learned I played on a women’s inner mural softball team. He claimed it wasn’t like real baseball and his son’s high school team could crush us in three innings. I called him on it, and he challenged my team to a fund-raising exhibition match with all funds from ticket sales going to the charity of the winner’s choice.”

“I think I’m going to love hearing this,” Griff chuckled. “What happened?”

“Word got out and donations poured in from all over the city including the high schools and other social service agencies,” she said after sipping her coffee. “I even heard blows were nearly exchanged at one high school between the men and women’s baseball-softball teams. Monty was calling it ‘the battle of the sexes’ and strutting like the cock of the walk. He really is a throwback.”

“I’m glad I made this coffee extra strong,” Griff declared. “And?”

“When our bus pulled up at the field on game day, the crowd went wild when half our team turned out to be nuns from Bernie’s convent. Wearing postulant’s habits, and most old enough to be the boys’ mothers, no less.”

“Baseball playing nuns?” Griff hooted with delight. “No shit?”

“Oh, yeah.” Elaine’s smile was a lesson in mischief. “I thought those high school boys would do a collective faint. Monty looked like he needed oxygen.”

“I should have put some whiskey in the coffee,” Griff gasped, still laughing. “And the sisters wore shorter versions of a full habit, like that young nun inSister Act?”

“Right,” Elaine agreed. “Easier to field and round the bases in skirts just above the knee while preserving modesty. Usually when we played, the sisters wore the team uniform, but we thought wearing the habits would give us the element of surprise.”

“I’ll bet it did,” Griff agreed, trying to picture the crowd. “Who won the game?”

“We did. Twelve to nine. Those kids played their hearts out, but the other half our team were women who played college level softball and had coached us for years. In the end, the kids thought it was cool and some of them volunteered to paint Bernie’s clinic when the handyman got sick. We raised over five thousand dollars and divided the money between our agency and Bernie’s clinic, but Monty never forgave me for embarrassing him. He implied women who played ball like that were less than feminine, so he started calling me by my last name.”

“A bad loser,” Griff pronounced, wondering how anyone could look at Elaine Prescott and not see classic femininity.

“Appearances can be deceiving, she teased. “You should have seen Mother Winnifred in her day. Her line drive would send you straight to confession.”

“Appearances can be deceiving. And keep your hands where I can see them.” Marda brandished her gun as the men dragged the screaming children from the jeep. Alejandro slumped over the jeep’s wheel,blood sliding down his face from the wound in his temple.

“How long have you been-,” Rage halted Griff’s question.

“Working for the opposition? Years,” she purred. “You Americans are so gullible, we just let you see what we know you want to see. Brave freedom fighters which we are-but just not on your side.” Her smile vanished. “And you think you can take our children-”

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