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    Sister Eve, Private Eye
    Sister Eve, Private Eye
    Sister Eve, Private Eye
    Ebook331 pages4 hours

    Sister Eve, Private Eye

    By Lynne Hinton

    3.5/5

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    About this ebook

    Sister Eve knows God moves in mysterious ways. And Eve adores a good mystery. Especially a murder.

    Two decades into her calling at a New Mexico monastery, Sister Evangeline Divine breaks her daily routine when a police officer appears, carrying a message from her father. Sister Eve is no stranger to the law, having grown up with a police captain turned private detective. She’s seen her fair share of crime—and knows a thing or two about solving mysteries.

    But when Captain Jackson Divine needs her to return home and help him recover from surgery, Sister Eve finds herself taking on his latest case.

    A Hollywood director has disappeared, and the sultry starlet he’s been running around with isn’t talking. When the missing man turns up dead, Captain Divine’s case escalates into a full-blown murder case, and Sister Eve’s crime-solving instincts kick in with an almost God-given grace.

    Soon Sister Eve finds herself soul-searching every step of the way: How can she choose between the vocation in her heart and the job in her blood?

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherThomas Nelson
    Release dateDec 2, 2014
    ISBN9781401691462
    Author

    Lynne Hinton

    A retreat leader and writing teacher, Lynne Hinton is the author of numerous novels including Pie Town, Wedding Cake, Christmas Cake, Friendship Cake, Hope Springs, and Forever Friends. She also writes a mystery series under the name Jackie Lynn. She lives in New Mexico.

    Read more from Lynne Hinton

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    Reviews for Sister Eve, Private Eye

    3.5/5

    29 ratings8 reviews

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    • 3/5
      Fun read. I enjoyed it.
    • 3/5
      I wish I could give a 3.5 - this was pretty good for a series beginning. I liked Sister Eve's conflict about her vocation. The mystery itself wasn't terribly compelling, though. I've give her next one a try and see what I think.
    • 4/5
      Sister Evangeline Divine takes a leave of absence from her New Mexico convent to help her father, Jackson Divine, following leg-amputation surgery. While helping him, she becomes embroiled in one of her private-detective father’s cases. The case involves a Hollywood starlet, Megan Flint, who hires Divine Private Detective Agency to help find her missing boyfriend, a director/screenwriter. As the case progresses to a murder case, the agency is hired to help prove Megan did NOT kill Charles “Chaz” Cheston as police believe she did.This is the first book in a new series by Lynne Hinton, author of many novels, most with a religious twist and most non-mysteries. I’ve read and enjoyed many of her books. I particularly like this book and its heroine, Sister Evangeline, known at home as “Eve.” Eve is not a plaster saint, and she’s not a renegade, but she has issues with authority, and difficulty figuring out whether she wants to stay a nun or continue as a detective, which she discovers she’s good at. Maybe it’s because people seem very willing to confess to her, whether or not she’s wearing a religious habit. The writing is professional, the plot is intricate and the characters well developed (for a cozy mystery, which this definitely is). There is a second book in the series, which I hope to read, too.
    • 4/5
      Sister Eve, Private Eye (2014) by Lynn Hinton. When you’ve read what turnout to be a good read from an author you’ve never heard of, it is fun to track down other things they have written. In this case I managed to read the second in the Sister Eve series and had been looking for the first in the set. Finally I found it and dove into it with gusto.
      A first in a series book has to not only introduce a plot with detailed storytelling that grips the reader and doesn’t let up title end, it also has to introduce not only the main character but the people surrounding them. And don’t forget to build in the location, hopefully something new or at least a new slant on what has come before. Toss in a lot of insider details, confrontations and plot twists and you will have the makings of a good series.
      ‘Sister Eve, Private Eye’ is one such book. Evangeline Divine (pronounced Deveen) is the daughter to Jackson Divine, a cantankerous, widowed father of two adult daughters, each so very different from the other. Jackson, or The Captain as those who know him call him, runs a small private detective agency in Madrid, New Mexico. He is also a diabetic and, due to an infection, had a foot and part of a leg removed. Sister Eve gets time away from the monastery she had resided at for the past two decades to take care of her gruff parent.
      A Hollywood director who was staying near Madrid disappears. The director’s girlfriend/leading lady has hired Jackson to find him. When his body is discovered, she quickly becomes the most likely suspect.
      There is so much more here, so many secrets both about the murdered man, the people in town and within Eve’s family. You can feel a second book in the offing by the way the characters are both introduced and mingled in the Eve and The Captan.
      The story is like many other first novel in a series books, slower paced than you might like, a lot of pages used up in bringing in characters and talking about them, but in all the mystery is solid, the interactions believable, and the results surprising.
    • 4/5
      Sister Eve is a 40 something nun in the American Southwest who prefers a Harley and boots to her habit. Her lifestyle is in the process of change, and she is not coping very well. Then comes word that she must return home immediately to give support to her ex-cop/private investigator father who is a mite testy on a good day. Her sister took care of her mother in the days between diagnosis and death from cancer, so now it is Eve's turn. He has just been engaged by a client on a missing person case, and it soon turns into murder and more. The suspense and plot twist in the investigation and beyond are well plotted and keep the reader engaged to the end. But I am a nurse, and I am very pleased to tell you that the dramatics relating to the nearly emergency amputation of a lower leg as a complication of Diabetes, the turmoil and grief following this, and the reactions to adapting to an artificial limb are spot on! Come for the mystery, and leave with a valuable learning experience.
      Hillary gives a worthy performance, and provides sincere voice interpretations which certainly enhance the written word.
      Purchased as Whispersync for less than $5.00.
    • 3/5
      Sister Eve, Private Eye is the May selection for my Book Club, By The Book. We don’t often read mysteries, although some of us are big fans of the genre. To be honest, mysteries don’t always lend themselves to great discussion, other than who figured out whodunit. But we get into reading ruts, so I wanted to mix it up a bit and thought this one would do the trick. I have to say that while Sister Eve may stimulate some good conversation, it won’t be because of the mystery.

      Sister Evangeline Divine (that’s pronounced Diveen, if you please) has been a nun for over 20 years. Her community is undergoing some changes and so is she. After her father, an ex-police captain turned P. I., undergoes an amputation, Eve takes over his care and his one case. Eve has great intuition and insight and maybe likes private detecting a little more than she would like to admit.

      The examination of vocation in Sister Eve, Private Eye, is very interesting. Evangeline struggles with the patience and obedience necessary for her life as a nun. She also has to confront whether her religious life has insulated her from the daily joys and sorrows of her family. All of that was good, but where was the mystery? Yes there is a murder and suspects and clues, but it seemed secondary to the story of Eve and her spiritual introspection. I also was not keen on how the reader is left out of the uncovering of the murderer. I didn’t figure the mystery out mainly because I was not included! There is a second book in the series, but I don’t think I will be reading it.
    • 3/5
      I’ve read many mysteries featuring nuns, priests, rabbis, reverends, and other religiously affiliated protagonists, contemporary and historical. Amongst all these Sister Eve (Evangeline) still manages to make an impression. She rides a Harley, has a need for speed (and the tickets to show for it), collects strays, and even after twenty years has a problem with authority.
      Sister Eve has spent her years in service at the Benedictine monastery in Pecos, NM. She’s been reprimanded recently for speaking out about the Vatican’s decision to move the nuns. Eve believes the funds would be better spent building an animal sanctuary vs new accommodations for the nuns. It’s obvious from the beginning that Sister Eve has reached a crisis. Not in her faith but her vocation. Will going home help her decide? Is it apparent to her superiors? Is that why her superior gave her a two month leave of absence?

      Eve thinks she knows her family but she’s been out of the daily loop for twenty years. As is the case with most families the relationships are never easy. Eve’s sister, Dorisanne who’s living in Las Vegas, refuses to come home during The Captain’s surgery and hospitalization, telling Eve it’s her turn since she took care of their mother. This is the first in a series of familial surprises for Eve. The awkwardness and difficulty of trying to see beyond years of misconceptions surrounding those closest to us is reasonably depicted.

      The mystery of who killed Chaz Cheston, Hollywood director and writer, is mildly interesting. The murder isn’t one readers can solve before the protagonist, the facts simply aren’t there. Readers have to solve it along with Eve and the Captain. Mostly it serves as a catalyst to the Divine’s working out some of their issues.

      SISTER EVE, PRIVATE EYE is set in the austerely beautiful desert landscape of Madrid, Pecos, and Santa Fe, New Mexico. However, the setting isn’t utilized. Sadly, the area isn’t as much a character as the people.

      Personally I’d like to see a bit more depth to the characters, a more engaging mystery, and more use of the setting. SISTER EVE, PRIVATE EYE shows promise.

      Reviewed for Miss Ivy’s Book Nook Take II, Manic readers, & Novels Alive TV
    • 4/5
      Sister Eve, Private Eye is the first book in a new series and I consider this a very promising start. Sister Eve has been a nun for the last 20 years. Her father was a police officer and after retiring years earlier he started his own detective agency. He also happens to be diabetic with complications, one of which is he is getting his leg amputated below the knee. Eve finds out while he’s on his way in to surgery. It is up to Eve to help her dad to recover and get back on his foot as it were.

      Sister Eve’s dad was working on a missing persons case, a rather famous director Chaz Cheston disappeared and his rather famous movie star mistress Megan Flint hired him to find out what happened. By chance a rancher that gives trail rides to both those who love horseback riding to those who don’t know which end of the horse to feed, found him. They stopped to observe a beautiful scenic overlook when one of the guests spotted a body down below and then fainted and fell into a soft spot on the trail provided by her own horse…

      After the discovery of the body, it became a murder investigation and Megan became the number one suspect. She had had a fight with Chaz before his disappearance and she lied about where she was and when she was there.

      I found this to be a great book and I certainly hope that the series continues. It falls fairly close into the cozy mysteries, no gratuitous sex or violence. The mystery was a decent one and the writing was good. Sister Eve is human and she has a lot of things to deal with and taking care of the old man seems to be making her face some of them. I highly recommend this mystery.

    Book preview

    Sister Eve, Private Eye - Lynne Hinton

    PROLOGUE

    Prologue

    Chaz Cheston grabbed his keys and quietly made his way out the back door. He had exactly one hour and fifteen minutes to pick up the final pages of the script and drive to the airport in Santa Fe. A jet was arriving that morning to pick him up and make a quick turnaround trip back to California. He stood beside his prized sports car, patted the bulging pocket of his black leather jacket, and glanced at his watch. He was late.

    Ron Polland had arranged back-to-back meetings in Los Angeles that morning. Cheston was scheduled to check in with the assistant director at ten o’clock, the casting director at ten thirty, and the director of photography at eleven. Polland, the producer, was expecting the director at the studio production offices at noon. There was a lunch planned for the investors later, and the entire afternoon was to be devoted to the final budget approval. Cheston just hoped that Polland wouldn’t ask for a statement from the production account at the bank before the meetings. He jumped in the car, turned on the engine, and sped down the driveway.

    Cheston planned to take the meetings, hand over the finished pages, and get his check so he could make the deposit before the withdrawal had been noticed. The assistant manager at the bank, the tall blonde taking evening acting classes, had already given him a heads-up that Polland had asked for weekly statements for the account. Chaz thought about the woman, recalling how he had arranged a personal studio tour and suggested that she would be great in his next project, a lie he would deal with later.

    He knew that Polland was already suspicious about what had happened to the advance. Just out of rehab, Chaz wouldn’t even be hired by the studio without insurance. He couldn’t shake that monkey off his back no matter how hard he tried. Polland had not been happy when his star writer and director had flown to New Mexico more than a month ago claiming he needed to be on location to finish the script for the film he’d promised would start production in three weeks.

    It was just before dawn, and the sun was still well below the barren peaks of the Ortiz Mountains marking the horizon to the east. The temperature was cooler than he’d expected, and he turned up the heat. He headed down the winding dirt road that would curve and dip for a couple of miles before hitting Highway 14. He recalled that the main drag through Madrid and Cerrillos was known as the Turquoise Trail, a forty-mile stretch of desert highway between Albuquerque and Santa Fe.

    He switched his headlights to bright, taking the curves as fast as he could. He recalled the directions he had used a few times before, trying to remember the exact route number and cattle guards to count. It was at least a thirty-minute drive to the cabin outside of Madrid and then at least forty-five more to the airport. But all he had to do was drive by, pick up the necessary pages, drop off some cash, and he’d soon be on his way to Santa Fe. He’d figure out the other details of explaining his whereabouts later.

    Chaz cursed. If Ross had just e-mailed the pages to him, it would have saved him a needless, time-consuming trip. But he’d refused. He was sticking to his usual writing tool of an IBM Selectric typewriter, and if Chaz wanted this story by Ross Biltmore, he was going to get it the way Ross Biltmore wrote them all: single-spaced narrative style, half-inch margins, Times Roman font, size 12. Somebody else was going to have to indent the pages of dialogue, add the characters’ names to the lines, and supply the scene directions. He didn’t care if there was a close-up on the hero or if the location was an interior or exterior, Ross Biltmore just wrote the story.

    Chaz Cheston headed east toward the rising sun, the sports car throwing up pebbles and raising dust in swirls behind him. Chaz and Ross had known each other since college, rooming together the last couple of years of school, although that didn’t really mean anything since Chaz was never there. By the time Ross left the university and traveled across India to study with some religious guru, Chaz, son of a famous movie director and grandson of a well-respected producer, was already working as an assistant to an assistant director in a major Hollywood production.

    In the beginning, Ross simply wrote term papers and essays for Chaz, but then he began taking his roommate’s exams when he could. However, in twenty years that arrangement had evolved. Ross withdrew from his classes the second semester of his junior year but remained a resident in the luxury apartment near campus paid for by the Cheston family. He turned out to be a gifted writer. No one at the university ever found out about the forged papers, and no one in the industry knew where Chaz Cheston came up with his brilliant ideas for movies.

    Only Chaz and Ross knew the man who was really the genius behind the romantic comedies and the action-packed dramas. And for twenty years, that’s the way it had been for the two friends. As far as Chaz knew, Ross never minded the anonymity, the lack of recognition, and he never asked for more money than what was offered. It was a solid business arrangement, and Chaz couldn’t be happier. Especially now.

    He made the turn on 14 and headed north. The sun was just starting to peek over the top of the Sangre de Cristos. He made the second left onto the dirt road and hit the accelerator. From this point it was a straight shot to the house near Cedar Hill. He was still hoping to make good time.

    When he arrived at the entry to Ross’s property, the fourth cattle guard and the second driveway off the road, he put the car in park and got out. He walked up to the gate, reached around, and slid the gate lock open, as he had been taught by Ross, and grabbed the small key he had been given from the pocket of his jacket. He opened the lock on the chain that was wrapped around the fence and the gate, yanked it through, pushed the gate, jumped back in his car, and pulled in, leaving the gate open. He hurried toward the small cabin built on the north side of a mesa. Stopping at the end of the drive, Chaz turned off the engine and waited. He looked around the house to see if any lights were on and then got out of the car, heading to the back door.

    Why on earth would anyone want to live way out here? he asked himself and shook his head as he searched around him, making sure no one else was there. Feeling confident that he was alone, he walked to the porch and searched for the folder he’d been promised.

    Ross had explained when Chaz called over the weekend that he was heading out of town but that he had finished the script, and the final scenes would be left under a blanket on a rocking chair on the east side of the house. He asked that Chaz put the cash and the gate key in the SentrySafe at the other end of the property. Chaz had been given the combination, and after picking up the script, he planned to drive down to the barn and drop off the bundle of cash he had zipped in his jacket pocket.

    Ross, he had been instructed a long time ago, never wanted a check or direct deposit. He wanted cash only. No paper trail was just fine with the Hollywood filmmaker.

    Chaz eyed the outdoor furniture lining the long porch. There were two rocking chairs near the front door and another near a bench. Sure enough, the thick folder was under the old red Navajo blanket. Relieved, he stuck the folder under his arm and was heading to his car when he saw the lights coming up the driveway.

    It was still not quite sunrise, and the small, round beams of light bounced up and down as they moved closer and closer to him. Chaz stood, frozen, watching as the vehicle pulled up beside his. The driver’s door opened. At first he thought it must be Ross home early, or maybe a neighbor, someone who watched the property when the owner was gone. He was squinting, trying to see who was getting out of the car, when he heard his name called and recognized the voice before he ever saw the face.

    Christ, have mercy . . . He felt a sharp pain in the left part of his chest and the folder under his arm fall. He dropped to his knees, the papers flying all around him, looking down at where he had been shot. He reached for his chest, expecting to find blood, but soon realized that what was lodged firmly under his skin was not a bullet but a short, thin dart. He looked up.

    I always heard the desert was a spiritual place, Charles. The familiar face loomed over him. He felt tightness in his chest and pain radiating across his shoulders and down his left arm. The Hollywood director struggled for breath. I just never figured you for the religious type, were the last words Chaz Cheston ever heard.

    ONE

    Prologue

    Pssst . . . The sound was a faint whisper and came from the chapel entrance.

    Sister Evangeline heard the noise but did not rise from her kneeling position; instead, she simply redoubled her prayers for patience. Breakfast had been served and it was an hour past Lauds. After a quick ride to the town of Glorieta to clear her head, she had returned to the sanctuary for an extended period of scripture reading and meditation meant to aid her spiritual journey. She heard the whisper but remained at the kneeling bench, the narrow beam hard beneath her knees. Candles burned on the altar, and the statue of Mary stood above the nun as she prayed. Saints watched from the stained-glass windows as she closed her eyes and took in a breath. Maybe the whisper was not meant for her, she decided.

    She readjusted herself, folded her hands once again, and bowed lower. The pew she was on was empty except for her helmet, which had been placed beside her. Even though she hadn’t actually worn it during the ride, she took it with her just to keep the questions and criticisms at bay. She couldn’t help herself—she snuck a peek at it just to make sure it was still there. Satisfied that it had not been taken, she drew in a deep breath and began a recitation from the Psalms.

    She wanted to be obedient. She tried to be dutiful, and if being able to accomplish such a feat required extra prayers, Sister Evangeline was willing to do it. Lately the well-seasoned nun had confessed to experiencing difficulty remaining patient with other members of her order at Our Lady of Guadalupe Abbey and with some of the changes being made at the direction of the Santa Fe diocese, especially the new order that was requiring the nuns to move out. She and Brother Oliver, the vice superior of the monastery that historically housed both monks and nuns, had agreed that additional time of solitude and prayers might aid her with her personal weaknesses, especially her anger. He had meant clocking hours in the chapel, but Evangeline knew that a ride on her Harley calmed and centered her more than sitting in a quiet room. So she decided to do them both. She finished the recitation and began her prayer.

    Pssst . . .

    There it was again. She remained bowed. She kept her eyes closed. Maybe someone else was in the chapel, maybe someone was sitting behind her and was being called, she thought. Maybe they would take the cue of her silence and leave quietly. Or maybe whoever was trying to capture her attention would realize Evangeline was in prayer and leave her alone.

    Psssst . . . pssst . . . pssst.

    She rose up and jerked her head around. What?! she barked.

    Clearly Brother Oliver had been right; she needed divine assistance.

    Evangeline shook her head. I’m sorry, she said as gently as she could to the young novice standing at the door, her pale face peeking through the opening. Sister Margaret, please, come in, come in. She sat up from the kneeling bench to the pew and waved the young woman inside. She rested her elbows on her knees.

    Sister Divine . . .

    "It’s Diveen. It’s pronounced Diveen, not Divine. And just call me Sister Eve or Sister Evangeline; you don’t call us by our last names."

    I’m so sorry. I’m sorry. The novice had been at the monastery only a couple of weeks and was still learning the names of the sisters and the proper ways to address them. She was thin and nervous, and she stood just inside the chapel entrance, her voice so low Evangeline could hardly hear her.

    Evangeline blew out a long breath. It’s fine.

    There was a long pause as Evangeline waited. Finally she raised her hands, a clear question being asked.

    Oh, right . . . The young woman cleared her throat, remembering her reason for interrupting her elder. There’s someone here to see you. She didn’t move any closer.

    Likely a guest wanting to talk about the meal schedule or the linens in the room. In her role as manager of Guest Services at the monastery, she handled all the special requests and complaints from those who used the facilities for private retreats or group meetings. Talking over her shoulder, she said, Take down their name and room number, and I will be with them in an hour. Eve turned and bowed her head once again.

    The young nun stood at the door, shifting her weight from side to side, trying to decide what to do. She was breathing fairly loudly.

    Sister Evangeline could tell the novice had not left. Is there anything else? she asked, without looking up and trying not to sound impatient.

    Margaret kept her head down. It’s a policeman, Sister. He said it was an emergency.

    Well, why didn’t you say so to begin with? She stood up, leaving the helmet, and walked to the end of the pew, genuflected, crossed herself, and headed toward the door. Margaret, you have got to learn to be more assertive about these kinds of things.

    Yes, Sister, she said as the older nun hurried past her.

    The police officer stood on the porch outside the main entrance of the monastery. He was tall and wore a dark suit with a badge clipped onto his right front pocket. An investigator, perhaps? He was watching a group of nuns walking down to the river. She opened the door and stepped out, allowing the door to slam hard behind her. The officer, startled, placed his hands securely on the weapons attached to his belt. Sister Eve stood at the door, the hem of her long, gray habit caught in the top of her cowboy boots.

    She studied the man, folded her arms across her chest, and said, I will not talk to you without an attorney present.

    TWO

    Prologue

    Well, if you aren’t going to talk, then I guess I’ll just have to arrest you and take you downtown, the officer replied, maintaining his stance.

    There was a pause and then big smiles from them both.

    Daniel, Eve responded, hurrying in his direction and giving him a big hug. It is so good to see you! She pulled away and looked up at her father’s oldest friend and former partner.

    Did you finally see the error of your ways and come to make your confession? She punched the man in the arm. I hope you packed to stay overnight.

    He was still grinning. Ah, little Sister, maybe I’m here because of all those speeding tickets you seem to forget to pay.

    She rolled her eyes. There has only been one speeding ticket in this calendar year, and I know for a fact the monastery paid it.

    Oh, so now who has to spend all day in confession? He grinned. And it’s still early in the year.

    She laughed.

    You still got your pets? he asked, looking around.

    Not so many, she answered. They told me I could only keep four. She signaled to the building behind her, inferring the powers that be at the convent. They claim I’m trying to turn the monastery into an animal shelter.

    Well, are you? he asked.

    She shrugged. Maybe.

    They still going to make you move? The news had been in the local papers. Everyone knew about the changes being called for at the monastery. Eve had been quoted in the stories and had gotten into trouble for speaking to the press.

    She only nodded.

    You go out riding?

    She smiled.

    You wear your helmet? He looked in the direction of where her bike was parked.

    She cleared her throat and turned away, remembering that she had left her helmet on the pew in the chapel. The sisters bought me a new one, she answered. They gave it to me at Christmas.

    An old dog walked up and she bent down to greet it.

    That’s not what I asked.

    She could feel his stare. She stood up and the dog sat at her feet. Last I heard, New Mexico doesn’t require helmets. She dusted off her hands on the front of her habit.

    Just because there’s no law against riding without a helmet doesn’t mean you shouldn’t use common sense. God don’t honor foolishness.

    Eve laughed. You’re starting to sound like him, she said.

    He’s right about some things. He glanced around the monastery. They get the new building started?

    She looked over at the planned building site for the new living quarters. The fact that the women were being kicked out and not able to have a say in where they went was only part of the reason she was angry about the changes. She thought separating the monks from the nuns and building new housing was ridiculous. She also thought it made more sense to build a kennel for the stray animals than a new housing area for the nuns. It wasn’t like they said—she didn’t want to change the monastery into an animal shelter, but she had been pushing for a facility for stray animals for years. With the new changes pushing the nuns out, she had finally been told to leave the matter of a kennel alone. She shook away the thoughts.

    Still working on it, she answered. She turned back to the officer. Where are my manners? Won’t you come in for a cup of tea? She took him by the arm, leading him to the steps.

    He stopped her. Actually, this isn’t exactly a social call, Evangeline. I came because I need to talk to you about something.

    She dropped his arm and turned to him.

    He looked back to the car he was driving. There was someone sitting in the backseat.

    It’s the Captain, he responded. Your dad, he added, even though he was sure Eve knew who the Captain was.

    Evangeline looked back at the officer, forgetting about his passenger.

    He’s at the hospital. He has to have surgery.

    What kind of surgery? Eve asked. She slid a piece of hair underneath the white veil she wore covering her head.

    It’s his leg, Daniel replied. They have to amputate it.

    Amputate it? I just talked to him last week, and he said the toe was getting better.

    Captain Jackson Divine had been a brittle diabetic for a long time, but in the last year he had battled infections in his lower extremities, including the most recent one involving his big toe.

    Daniel shook his head. After four rounds of antibiotics, it didn’t go away. The infection was spreading faster than they could manage. The doctors told him there was no other choice. It has to come off. He waited. The foot and part of the leg.

    Eve made the sign of the cross and closed her eyes. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. I never thought it would progress this quickly, she noted and paused. Wait, how long have you known the infection was this bad?

    Daniel cleared his throat, uncomfortable with the question. He had been friends with Captain Divine for more than thirty years. He had watched Eve and her sister, Dorisanne, grow up. He was aware that the man had ongoing issues of privacy and pride. He shook his head. This was not easy news for him to report.

    Eve could see his discomfort and waved off the question. Never mind, it doesn’t matter. It’s not your fault that he doesn’t tell me anything. This is just like him, waiting until the last minute and then making you drive out here to break the news.

    A car pulled up and parked in the lot next to the front entrance. The two of them turned and watched as a couple got out and headed in the direction of the chapel. Eve assumed they had an appointment with one of the monks. She had heard about a couple who were planning to have their wedding held in the chapel later in the spring.

    I came to take you to the hospital, Daniel explained. The surgery is this afternoon.

    This afternoon? Today? Eve sighed. Did you call Dorisanne?

    He shook his head. I don’t have her new number.

    Eve nodded. She wasn’t even sure she had a correct number to reach her little sister. Dorisanne was known to change residences and contact information on a fairly regular basis.

    She’s still in Vegas. I’ll try the number I have before we leave. She looked again over at her bike parked near the main building. She reached out, squeezing the man on the arm. Daniel, it was really nice of you to come and tell me the news, but I need to take care of a few things before I go. I’d rather drive myself to St. Vincent’s, she said, knowing that she needed to talk to her superiors about her situation.

    I’d feel better if I drove you, Daniel responded. I have some phone calls to make, so don’t hurry. I’ll just wait in the car until you’re ready.

    And that’s when Evangeline finally remembered the person she had seen in the backseat of Daniel’s car. She peered over in that direction.

    You stop on the way and make an arrest? she

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