The Smoking Nun Read online

  The Smoking Nun

  Book 4 Nun of Your Business Mysteries

  Dakota Cassidy

  The Smoking Nun (Book 4 Nun of Your Business Mysteries)

  Copyright © 2019 by Dakota Cassidy

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the copyright holder.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names or named features are assumed to be the property of their respective owners and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement by the author of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters and storylines in this book are inspired only by the author’s imagination. The characters are based solely in fiction and are in no relation inspired by anyone bearing the same name or names. Any similarities to real persons, situations, or incidents is purely coincidental.

  ISBN: 9781094951195

  Imprint: Independently published

  Created with Vellum

  Acknowledgments

  Welcome to the Nun of Your Business Mysteries! I so hope you’ll enjoy the fourth adventure for Trixie Lavender and her pal, Coop, an ex-nun and a demon, respectively, trying to make their way in the world—together.

  Please note, I currently live in the beautiful state of Oregon, just outside of Portland. And though not a native (New Yorker here!), I’ve fallen in love over and over again with my new home state every day for the five years we’ve been here. That said, I’ve created a district (sort of like the Pearl District, for you natives) in a suburb of Portland that is totally fictional, called Cobbler Cove.

  You may recognize some of the places/streets/eateries I mention because they do exist, but keep in mind, I’m also flagrantly instituting my artistic license with the geography of gorgeous Portland to suit my own selfish needs. Some names for characters or groups/eateries/streets mentioned herein are completely fictitious.

  As I’ve mentioned in my previous cozy mysteries, there’s an ongoing mystery surrounding Coop and Trixie that will play out over the course of the series (sorrysorrysorry!), but the central mystery in each story will be all wrapped up in a pretty package with a nice bow by book’s end.

  That out of the way, welcome to the crazy world Trixie and Coop inhabit. I hope you come to love them as much as I do!

  The Smoking Nun

  Chapter 1

  “Sister Ophelia, lovely day, isn’t it?” I asked as I poked my head around the alleyway’s corner at Our Lady of Perpetual Grace, dragging a bag of garbage to the dumpster where she stood.

  The scent of cigarette smoke wended its way to my nostrils on this unusually lovely pre-spring day. Typically at this time of year in Cobbler Cove, we were still having fits and starts of colder weather that couldn’t make up its mind what it wanted to do.

  But today was the exception, and quite lovely indeed. The trees were standing at attention under the warm sun, hopeful buds on their limbs, the grass along the sidewalks was greening up, and there were people milling about in nothing more than light sweaters.

  I lobbed the bag upward to drop it into the bin as one of my favorite nuns at Our Lady threw a half-smoked cigarette down on the ground, lifting her skirts and stomping it out with her ballet flats.

  Her cheerful, wrinkled face poked out from her habit, riddled with guilt as she huffed a sigh. She held up a petite hand in mock surrender.

  “You caught me, child, and before you say anything, I know they’re bad for me. I know it’s a poor example for the children I teach at the school, but sometimes, in times of great stress, I just can’t seem to kick the habit in its keister.”

  I smiled and winked at her, holding out my arm for her to take. “You know, I’ve heard it said it’s harder to quit smoking than it is to quit drugs. Can you believe that? So with those words of wisdom, I cast absolutely no judgment here.”

  Sister O gave a light chuckle, the sound tinkling on the early afternoon breeze as she curled her knobby fingers around my forearm.

  “That’s ever so true, child. It could be crack I’m smoking, I suppose. Things could always be much worse.”

  I giggled as we made our way out of the alley to the long line of steps leading up to the magnificent walnut-stained doors of the church. I still got a small thrill when I saw the doors to a house of worship, despite my disenchantment with the church and its politics.

  In my heart of hearts, these doors still led to hope, forgiveness, and redemption. All things everyone needs in this life from time to time, and for me, personally, they still brought a true sense of peace when I entered.

  I looked up at the blue sky, puffy with white cotton-candy clouds, and smiled at the feel of the sun on my face, regretting the fact that most of the volunteer work I was doing today was indoors.

  “So, are you ready for the speed-dating fundraiser tonight, Sister Ophelia? I’ve been here all afternoon setting up chairs and tables, and we had tons of people register. It looks like it’s going to be a great turnout.”

  Our Lady of Perpetual Grace was hosting a fundraiser for the youth group’s trip to a village in Africa (as crazy as it sounds to have an adult dating event help fund a youth group event) and me, Coop, and Higgs had been busily setting up the basement all day long in anticipation.

  “I think the question is, are you ready, m’dear?” she crowed in her lilting voice, her smile teasing and light as she patted my arm and inhaled a deep breath of the fresh air.

  I frowned momentarily and cocked my head. “Me? Aw, heck no. I’m not going to participate in the speed dating. I’m on punch duty.”

  Talking to strange men with the intent of having anything interesting to say while I twirled my hair and batted my eyelashes? No, thank you. I’ve never dated except for a little in high school, and I’ve certainly never been very good at flirting.

  Plus, my life is so complicated right now—too complicated for casual dinners and movies. I had a demon inside me I needed to expel. That took precedence over keeping up the task of waxing my legs and dying my roots.

  Sister Ophelia reached up and tugged a length of my hair, which, by the way, I’d been growing out and now was well past my collarbone.

  “A pity. I’d bet a looker like you would have a full dance card by the end of the night.”

  Sister Ophelia knew most everything about my jaded past. From my hasty departure from Saint Aloysius By The Sea—minus the details about my demon, of course—to my faltering faith.

  I’d met her when we’d volunteered to do some neighborhood community service, and both Coop and I liked her almost immediately. We shared a love of crime dramas (her particular favorite was repeats of Unsolved Mysteries) and mystery shows, and it didn’t hurt that she was funny and quick-witted and the first to offer you a hug when you’d had a bad day.

  She didn’t seem to mind that I’d left the convent. She hadn’t even pried when I didn’t give her an explanation for leaving.

  She’d simply said whatever my reasons, it was clear my heart was in the right place. And that, coming from someone I not only respected, but someone from my former sisterhood, warmed me to my core. We’d been friends of sorts ever since.

  Something else to note, during the course of our budding friendship, one I’d entered hesitantly because she was, after all, blessed by the holy spirit and a vessel for the spiritual world. Sister Ophelia hadn’t once sensed the demon in me…

  Not once.

  A relief? Sure. That enabled me to be close to the people I’d once treasured above all else. But didn’t it also mean all the hoopla in the Good Book about nuns and priests sensing evil wasn’t really true?

  I don’t know. I do know, it’s one more
bit of evidence to add to the pile of my rocked beliefs that I’ve packed away to address at another time.

  “So, lovely girl? Are you going to dabble a little in the dating pool, maybe get your feet wet?” she asked, her bright eyes amused.

  I grinned at her and drove my hands into the pockets of my jeans. “For now, I’m going to leave the dating to the experts like Miss Carla. She has the dating thing on lockdown.”

  Miss Carla Ratagucci could find a date at a monk convention, and that’s not a fib. She had this charisma, this…this something that made men flock to her like a medium-rare rib eye.

  Sister Ophelia frowned in clear disapproval, folding her hands together in a fist. “Miss Carla has many things, my child. Middle age and cankles are but two. Shall I go on?” she asked dryly.

  I fought an unladylike snort. It wasn’t kind to gossip, but what Sister Ophelia said was partially true. Miss Carla was definitely middle-aged and she definitely dressed in a manner that had created controversy every Sunday since I’d begun attending services a couple of months ago.

  You always knew when Miss Carla entered and took a spot in one of the pews due to the ripple of sound from the other parishioners.

  And yes, I’ve been attending Sunday services here and there. Oddly, the demon in me hasn’t rejected the idea of my entering sacred ground. Though, I will tell you, I held my darn breath the first time I strolled inside to meet Higgs for lunch and he introduced me to his good friend, Father Rico.

  That I didn’t burst into flames when I shook his hand was a good sign. A good sign indeed. That Coop didn’t either? The best sign ever, because ironically, my Coop loved the church and all the people in it. So far, she’d debunked every myth about demons I’d ever been taught.

  Anyway, I liked Carla’s free spirit, her confidence, and her colorful choice of clothing and makeup. She lived her life the way she wanted to and she didn’t care what anyone said about it.

  Which was a good thing, because everyone said something about it. She’d been dubbed Our Lady’s personal maneater—always on the hunt for the next kill—a catty parishioner’s words, not mine.

  However, she’s the one who’d come up with the idea of the speed-dating event and had somehow gotten it past Father Rico with his full approval. There was something to be said for the magic of Miss Carla.

  I popped my lips. “You know you love Carla, Sister O.”

  She put her hands in front of her and chuckled, her eyes expressing her fondness. “That I do, but a spade’s a spade, don’t you agree, Trixie?”

  “Well, before we judge Miss Carla, we should remember she’s the one who came up with this speed-dating idea in the first place, and it’s brought in a ton of money for the youth group. If no one’s check bounces, all thirty of those children will be able to go to Africa and actually eat while they’re there. You can’t dispute that.”

  Sister Ophelia let out an exasperated sigh and arched a gray eyebrow. “You know how she did that, don’t you?”

  “How?”

  “She invited all her jilted lovers, that’s how. That’ll fill up an entire convention center.”

  I had to hide my laughter as I encouraged her up the stairs, ignoring her stab at Carla’s fickle ways. Yes, Carla was a serial dater, but why settle when you didn’t have to?

  “Now, now, Sister Ophelia. What does the scripture say about pettiness and gossip?” I chided playfully.

  “It says beware of a wolf in sheep’s clothing, and Miss Carla’s picture is right beneath.”

  I rolled my eyes at her when we reached the top of the steps, pulling open the heavy doors to allow her to enter first. “She’s not a wolf, Sister O. Maybe a cougar, but certainly not a wolf.”

  Sister Ophelia’s pixie-like laughter tinkled throughout the entryway to the church as we made our way toward the basement steps, leaving me smiling.

  “Wow, what a turnout!” Higgs said with a whistle as we pushed our way through the throng of people who’d gathered for the big event, waving to Goose and Knuckles, who’d cleaned up just fine for tonight.

  The basement was jam-packed with people, standing under the Edison lights we’d strung from the ceiling earlier today. High, round tables sat in clusters so the speed daters could move from place to place with ease.

  There was a long table covered from one end to the other with all manner of snack foods and small hors d’oeuvres donated by the local restaurants to keep the daters from getting hangry.

  I nodded as Higgs grabbed my hand to help navigate our way through the crowd. “It’s all due to Miss Carla’s magic.”

  He pulled me toward the punch table, where my duty as server awaited. “Is it just me or do you find it ironic that speed dating is going to fund a youth group’s trip to Africa?”

  “Do you know, before I stuck my nose in the middle of everything, what the title of this event was originally?”

  Higgs gave me a skeptical glance. “I’m afraid to ask.”

  I giggled at the memory and breathed another sigh of relief that I’d been able to talk Carla out of it before the flyers went to the printer.

  “Speed Dating For Christ’s Sake—and there was a comma after the word dating.”

  I watched him visualize that sentence in his mind, and then he chuckled. “Hoo boy.”

  I grinned up into his handsome face—a face I liked more every day I spent with him. “Exactly. But better still? I talked her out of an auction for a date with the eligible men around town. Because I’m here to tell you, that idea was bandied about—and you were number one on her hit list, pal.”

  Higgs’s dark eyes sparkled when he laughed and pounded his chest with his broad fist. “Did you take one for the team, Sister Trixie Lavender?”

  I shook a warning finger at him. “I’m tellin’ ya. It took some mighty fancy footwork on my part to talk her out of it, too. The kind that surely requires payback in the way of a dinner on you, kind sir.”

  “So I owe you a salad?” he teased, referring to our ongoing joke about how unhealthy his eating habits were.

  I narrowed my eyes playfully at him and flicked the collar of his eggplant-purple dress shirt. “You know, the youth group is going to need funding for their ski trip in December. An auction could still happen if you’re not careful.”

  Higgs held up his hands and backed away. “I surrender,” he said, his gravelly voice pleasant in my ears. “Now, have I told you how pretty you look tonight, Miss Lavender?”

  My face went up in flames then. My cheeks burned and my toes curled. I was wearing a dress, one Coop had helped me pick out. I loved the feminine pink and white floral print made out of a soft rayon material. It made me feel girly as the ruffles across the hem fluttered around my knees.

  I also had on some soft pink heels; modest heels, mind you, and a little mascara and lip gloss, if you must know.

  Okay, so I wanted to look pretty, but running the tattoo shop kept me in jeans and T-shirts most of the time. It was fun to dress up once in a while.

  Or at least that’s what I told myself as I’d blown out my hair and Coop had made some magic with her curling iron to give me soft curls around my face.

  I curtsied to cover my embarrassment and spread the floaty skirt of my dress with my hand. “Thank you, Higgs. I feel pretty.”

  Out of the corner of my eye—because I always had trouble meeting Higgs’s gaze when he complimented me—I happened to catch a glimpse of Sister Ophelia by the corner of the room where the bathrooms were located, her face flushed, and I wondered if she’d gone outside to have another one of her forbidden smokes.

  Which reminded me, she’d mentioned being stressed, and I hadn’t had the forethought to ask her what was troubling her until I was getting ready this evening. I made a note to myself to find her later tonight and check-in.

  “Trixie!” I heard someone call out my name just as I caught a glimpse of Higgs blanching at the sound of a familiar sultry voice. “Trixie!”

  I turned to find Carla Ratagucci
waving at me, her tight-fitting red and black color-block dress hugging her ample curves—which explained Higgs’s reaction. Carla liked Higgs, and she made sure he knew it because she flirted with him every chance she had. Judging by the way she slinked toward us with a seductive sashay, she had no plans to stop flirting today.

  “Don’t you look gorge?” she cooed at me from a pair of full, very red lips as she grabbed my hand and twirled me around. Her signature perfume, a heavier musky scent, wafted under my nose as I spun.

  I chuckled at her compliment and waved a hand up and down along her very bodacious length. “Forget me, would you look at you! I love your dress, and I’ll never understand how you walk in those shoes, but I sure wish I could manage it because they make your legs look fantastic.” I pointed to her stilettos with a shake of my head in admiration.

  Carla flapped her hands at me and tucked one of her shoulder-length, inky-black curls behind her ear with a flirty smile. “These are nothing. You should have seen me back in the day. No heel or hairdo was too high for this girl.” Then she gave Higgs a coy look and a smoldering gaze.

  Higgs ran a finger around the edge of the collar of his shirt and swallowed, and I have to admit, I got a little kick out of seeing such a big, confidant man fall to pieces around the sexier-than-sin Carla.

  But I decided to save him from her because that’s what friends do. I knew her suggestive language and constant flirting made Higgs feel uncomfortable.

  I slipped my arm through hers and began to walk her away from my favorite ex-cop, who I’d swear hissed a sigh of relief.

  “Have I mentioned what an amazing job you did, pulling this all together, Carla? I mean, this is really something. Just look at what you’ve done.” I pointed to the packed room for effect.

  She patted my arm and let out a huff. “All for the kids. Now, do you have a speed-dating card?”

  “Me? Um, no. I’m running the punch table.” And that was absolutely that.