MURDER TAKES TIME

Chapter 28

A Cleansing of the Soul

Wilmington—3 Years Ago

Angela Catrino-Ferris dragged her tired body up the hill toward the three-story brick building that housed St. Elizabeth’s. Kids of all ages rushed past her on their way home. School had started a week ago, and most of the kids were still in summer mode with a boundless supply of energy waiting to be expended. She had long ago learned the joy of walking, one of many things Rosa Sannullo taught her. A smile that accompanied any thought of Rosa lit Angie’s face. 

The smile broadened as she crossed Banning Street. Sister Mary Thomas stood at the door, waving to the children as they left, the ever-present pointer in her hand in case it was needed on some of the more rambunctious ones. Angie waved to her and climbed the six steps to the landing. 

“Angela, how nice to see you. How is little Rosa doing?”

Angie blushed. “She’s fine, Sister, but I’m sure you know that. You’re the only one she talks about.”

A vague smile appeared, one only nuns can produce—the kind that told nothing. It could make a person feel warm or frighten them, depending on their state of mind. Sister Mary Thomas ushered the last few kids out the door, nodding and waving to their chants of “goodbye, Sister Thomas” or “see you tomorrow, Sister Thomas.” When the last of them had gone, she turned to face Angie. “Come up to the classroom, Angela.”

Angie followed her up the stairs, amazed at how fit Sister Thomas was for her age. When they got to the second floor, they entered the first door on the right, same as it had been many years ago. The door closed behind them, and Angie broke silence. “Why did you want to see me, Sister?”

“It’s nice that you still get to the point right away.” Sister Mary Thomas set her pointer on the desk, erased the chalkboard, and pulled a desk next to the one Angie sat in. “I pass Rosa in the hall quite often. I’ve seen bruises on her too many times to blame it on accidents.”

Angie lowered her head. 

Sister Thomas wrapped her hands around one of Angie’s. “Would you like to talk about it?”

She kept her head lowered. “Sister, I have wanted to talk to you for a long time, but…”

Sister Thomas waited five, perhaps ten seconds. “But?”

Tears welled in Angie’s eyes. “There are things I can’t tell anybody. Not even you.”

Sister Thomas stood, walked a bit across the room and back, mostly in small circles. “I’m not going to tell you that you can trust me. You know that. I’m not going to tell you what you need to do. You know that as well. What I will remind you of is what I taught you in my class: Embarrassment and guilt are the two most powerful deterrents to truth. They are also two of the worst reasons to avoid the truth.” Sister Thomas reversed her course and stopped in front of Angie’s desk. “Talk to me if you like, or go talk to Father Tom. Do whatever you have to…but if I see bruises on that child one more time…” Somehow the pointer had gotten back in her hand. It wagged as if it were a cobra ready to strike. 

“Sister, it started just a short while ago. I think Marty realized Rosa wasn’t his daughter.”

Sister Thomas looked at her. “She does bear a resemblance to her father.”

Angie lowered her head, embarrassed. “Yes, Sister, I know.” She buried her head in her hands and sobbed. 

Sister Thomas rubbed her shoulder, then moved the long hair from Angie’s face. “I think Father Tom is in church now. I’m sure he would be glad to hear confession or just talk.”