all that supposed to make me rest easy?”
Janet frowned. “I said there was security. You didn’t see him, but there is a guard in the main parking lot. There’s one in here, too. He must be making his rounds. Then there’s one in the Liberal Arts Building, the Theater, and the Residence Hall.”
“That’s it?”
“Well, there’s more. But it’s sort of intangible.”
“Intangible?”
“Marie, Marygrove has changed. Not just the coed thing. We’re in a mostly black, mostly poor city. Once you get away from the riverfront section of downtown and a few isolated neighborhoods, you’ll find neighborhoods that are near death. But even in those neighborhoods, there are people who want something fine for themselves and their families. A goodly percentage of our students are from those families.
“Marie, this place has become a haven for poor black women-many of them older women-who want an education. This may be hard for you to understand, but these women have declared Marygrove off-limits to hoodlums.”
“And that keeps them out?”
“For the most part, yes.”
“It works?”
“Seems to.”
Marie smiled. “I don’t know. This conference is all about murder, isn’t it?”
“Fiction, Marie, fiction.”
“Sometimes there’s only a thin line between fiction and fact.”
Janet laughed. “Stick to your field, Marie: fiction. Just think,” she added, with a smile of wonderment, “an author-a published author. When we were students here together, who would have thunk it?”
“Not I.”
“How’d you get into it?”
“By accident, mostly, I guess.” Marie sat on the room’s only chair. “I was thinking about all the things that have changed in our lives. Oh, not only the changes in the Church. More the changes in our order.”
Janet nodded. “Almost as day and night. In the beginning, we were teachers-almost all of us in parochial schools.”
“Exactly. If it hadn’t been for teaching nuns, there would never have been a parochial school system. All those parishes could never have afforded lay teachers. Parochial schools almost certainly would never have even been considered without our coolie labor. Some of the religious orders were founded to train nuns as nurses and hospital personnel. Some orders trained nurses and teachers. But, by and large, they mass-produced teachers.”
“That’s right,” Janet agreed. “And so we were. Except for the few who were cooks or domestics, or the few who served the order in management or health care, we were all teachers. And so it was into the fifties and early sixties, and-”
“And then,” Marie broke in, “the roof collapsed.”
“The candidate supply dried up. So many of the Sisters left us. And so many more decided to enter other educational fields-adult ed, continuing ed.”
“As in my case,” Marie said.
“In charge of continuing education for the entire Archdiocese of Miami.”
“Yes, the archbishop himself bestowed on me the freedom to draw up the entire program and set the budget.” Marie laughed. “Then he gave me the freedom to raise all the money for the budget.”
“I wasn’t aware your job was that big. I didn’t know they expected you to be a fundraiser too!”
“I didn’t know that either in the beginning. But then the archbishop said, ‘Welcome to the world, Sister.’”
Janet looked concerned. “How were you able to do it? I mean with all that responsibility, where did you find time to write? I mean, write a book!”
“It wasn’t easy. And I wouldn’t recommend it. But, as I was saying, I got to thinking of how our lives have changed so drastically over the years. And I thought: Why not? I’d always found a lot of fulfillment in writing.”
“Yes, I remember that. But, a book!”
“It was the best way I could think of to tell our story. To create a nun who had lived through all the things we’ve experienced. Life in the old convent, the tightly knit community. Life today, an entirely new ball game.”
“In a murder mystery?”
“Why not? Mystery is no stranger to the Church. You might even say the Church is built on mysteries. Besides, there’s something neat and finished about mystery stories. I’ve always liked how all the loose ends get tied up. I find it very satisfying.
“The biggest problem is finding time. A few evenings, a few early mornings; every once in a while a weekend. It’s a long process under the best of circumstances.”
“I’ll bet!” Janet moved about the room, touching pictures, draperies, fixtures, almost compulsively. “And now? Another one?”
“I don’t know about that. Not right away, that’s for sure. For one thing, the publisher’s got me doing a bit of promotion.”
Janet grew animated. “That sounds exciting. Do you travel much?”
“Not a lot. Some telephone interviews. A bit of radio and television. You know: ‘Why is a holy nun of God writing about murder?’ ‘What does a nun know about murder?’ ‘. . about the world?’ ‘. . about anything-other than how to say the rosary’”
Janet laughed. “Really! That bad?”
“That bad!”
“I’m embarrassed. I haven’t checked, and I should have: Is
It was Marie’s turn to laugh. “Heavens, no! I’m what’s called a midlist author. On a few best-seller lists, but not for any length of time. A soft-cover sale. A book-club offering. It did get reviewed in the
“That’s not fair. I read your book. The only thing missing was America’s favorite ‘F’ word. And not everyone in the country stoops to
“I know. But that’s the way it goes. Actually, I think all the other authors in this writers’ workshop are in the same boat I’m in-mid-list authors.” Marie wandered to the open door in the rear of the room. “Nice bathroom. All for me?”
“All for you. Father Benbow and his wife have their own bathroom. Rabbi Winer’s wife didn’t come with him, so he’s sharing a bathroom with Father Augustine and Father Koesler. And Mr. Krieg has his own facility.”
“No one would wash from the same bowl as he, eh?”
Janet snickered. “Just the way it worked out.”
Marie glanced at her watch. “Just five o’clock. How long do we have before dinner?”
“About an hour.”
“How ’bout a walk? I’d like to see the place again. Besides, I’m a little keyed-up.”
“Sure.” Janet slipped into her topcoat. “Want to borrow one of my coats? It’s getting really chilly out there.”
Marie took a windbreaker from her suitcase. “I haven’t forgotten Michigan weather entirely. Particularly how it changes from hour to hour. Come on; maybe we can find some of those elusive security guards you’ve been bragging about.”
Janet showed her surprise. “Why this obsession with security?”
Marie’s laugh was tinged with nervousness. “Oh, I don’t know. You just never know when a gal’s going to need some security. Call it a premonition.”
“I don’t like to hear you say that. I remember your premonitions. What I remember mostly about them is their accuracy.”
“Forget it, Jan. Let’s just enjoy our walk.”
