“Well, this isn’t exactly an official type of decision. It’s more a matter of acquiring information.”
“Indeed, go on.”
Lauren shifted, unsure of how to begin. “My brother was murdered the other night.”
“Oh my heavens, I’m terribly sorry to hear that. Are you all right?”
Lauren shrugged. “We weren’t really on the best terms. Still, his death was a bit of a shock to me. He was the last family I had.”
“And you’re troubled by this naturally.”
“In a manner of speaking, yes. I’m most troubled by the way in which he died.”
“How did he die?’
Lauren hesitated. How was she going to phrase this? “There were no apparent causes for his death. He simply…died.”
“How peculiar. And the authorities? What have they told you?”
“That’s why I’m here actually. The lead detective on the case has seen this type of death before. When he worked for the FBI, he investigated several episodes of this throughout the entire country. He shared some information with me and I told him it sounded almost as though someone had performed some type of reverse laying of hands on the victims.”
“Laying of hands?”
“Yes, the old stories of those with the ability to heal by touch.”
“I’m well aware of the stories, Lauren.” Sister McDewey frowned. “Unfortunately, that’s all there is to them. They’re simply stories.”
“There’s nothing legitimate about them?” Lauren found that hard to believe.
Sister McDewey smiled. “Let me tell you something. As you might know, I worked a long time doing work overseas. In the service of the Church we are sometimes sent to the most inhospitable places on earth to do His bidding. Obviously we go to do the goodness that needs doing. I’ve seen an awful lot in my years abroad. And I’ve been to countless tiny villages where someone was reputed to have the gift of healing.”
“What happened?”
Sister McDewey shrugged. “What generally happens in cases like those: it turns out to be some sort of charlatan at work whose only motive is to gain some type of control over the local populace. Sometimes it’s for money, other times not. But never — not once — have I seen any real evidence of the ability.”
“But don’t you think it might be true?”
“Even if it was, this thing you’re speaking of — a reversal? It’s never even been documented. Not that I’m aware of.”
“I did research in the school’s library and couldn’t find anything. I thought I’d come to you and see if you knew where there might be additional information.”
“And how would I know about that?”
Lauren raised her eyebrows. She was about to skirt dangerous ground. “I’ve heard rumors of another library here in Boston. One that has certain types of information on arcane subjects.”
Sister McDewey laughed. “I see that rumor still lives, huh? Well, you can put it right out of your mind. There’s no such place around here. I’d certainly like to think I’d know about it if there was. Although I need hardly remind you that even if it did exist, you wouldn’t be granted access to it unless you were a fully ordained nun. You understand that such a place wouldn’t be open to the public.”
“So, it doesn’t exist.”
“No.”
Lauren stood. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.”
Sister McDewey smiled. “No waste at all, Lauren. I’m glad to see you again. How are your preparations coming for entering the service?”
“Well enough I suppose.” Lauren tried to smile. “I should be going. Thank you so much for your help.”
“Any time.”
Lauren turned and walked out. In the outer office, the older nun was nowhere to be seen. Lauren shrugged her coat on and walked out of the administration building, back into the November cold.
Was Sister McDewey lying about the secret library? Probably. Lauren had heard the rumors long enough to suspect that there was some measure of truth to there. It was simply a matter of finding out its location.
The worst part, she decided, was having to tell Steve that she hadn’t been able to find anything out. She felt guilty, like she’d lied about being able to help him. Why did I tell him I could find something out? Why did I do that?
She turned up a side walkway and headed toward Commonwealth Avenue where she could catch the Green Line train that would take her into Boston. Better to tell Steve face-to-face than by telephone.
I owe him that much at least, she thought.
“I hope you didn’t believe her.”
Lauren jumped. She turned. The old nun from the administration building stood in the recessed shadows of the nearby building. A thin trail of smoke encircled her head, coming from the cigarette in her mouth. Lauren thought the picture looked a bit silly. An old nun in a habit hanging out with a cigarette in her mouth.
“Don’t mind the cig, it’s the only vice I’m sure I’ve got.” The old nun smiled and dropped the cigarette, grinding it underfoot with her black shoe. She looked at Lauren. “Walk with me.”
She led Lauren down another side pathway, away from the buildings. The wind blew strong in the confined space. When they’d gone a few hundred feet, the old nun dropped onto a bench and smoothed her coat and leaned back.
Lauren sat next to her and waited.
“It’s not really a rumor.”
Lauren raised her eyebrows. How had she heard?
“Don’t seem so shocked. There’s an intercom system that I can use to listen in one what happens in every office there. Yes, I know I shouldn’t, but I’ve always been interested in keeping abreast of what goes on.”
“Okay.”
“She told you it was a rumor. It’s not.”
“The library?”
“Most rumors have some measure of truth to them, dear. The trick is figuring out which part is truth and which part is a load of hooey.” She smiled. “Sister McDewey is a fine woman, but it’s her duty to keep the young and inquisitive — “ She smiled at Lauren. “- that’s you, dear — focused on their studies.”
“So, in this case, which is the truth?”
“The truth is that there is indeed a building containing research material on the strange and bizarre. The Church has been engaged in missionary work for so many years that our people in the field have run into almost every known and unknown thing out there. It had to be catalogued somewhere.”
“In the library.”
“Well, that’s the false part of the rumor. It’s not a library. Not in the traditional sense of the word anyway.” The old nun’s eyes took on a faraway look and almost seemed to mist over. She sighed. “Are you familiar with the Back Bay?”
“Pretty well.”
“There are brownstones along Marlborough Street that the Church owns. In fact, there are several all in a row that we control. You wouldn’t find a record of the property holding anywhere since private citizens who do favors for the Church conceal it. But we own it.
“And this…material is kept there?”
“Yep.” The old nun frowned. “Is it true what you told Sister McDewey? About the death, I mean.”
“Yes.”
The old nun looked away. “Then you’ll need to go there.”
Lauren eyed her. “Sister, have you heard of this thing before?”
“Which thing?”
“The deaths. The mysterious deaths.”
The old nun lit a fresh cigarette and inhaled deeply. After a moment, she let the stream out in a sudden rush. “No.”
