He continued to grumble mentally as he rode the elevator down to the ground level, then made his way along a covered pathway to the main building of the medical complex. *St. Catherine of Sweden Hospital. There's a mouthful. I wonder if most people call it Cathy's, or The Swede.*

This was a long shot. The Oliphant murders had happened almost twenty years before. What was the chance that any of the staff who might have known Greg Oliphant would still be around?"

There were two women at the small information desk directly in front of the main entrance, both wearing tunic tops of a peculiar pink-lavender shade. They looked up alertly as Randal came in, giving him twin smiles that probably owed more to Polident than Pepsodent. As he approached the elder one piped, "Can we help you, Father?"

That gave Randal pause. He tipped down his shades, examining the two old dears perplexedly. There was no way short of a time warp he could have fathered either of them. "Beg pardon, ladies?"

The middle-aged one looked at him a little more closely, then gave a small laugh. "Clarice, he isn't a father!"

"Not that I know of, anyway," said Randal good-naturedly.

Clarice picked up the glasses that were hanging from the chain around her neck and, not bothering to set them on her nose, peered at Randal through the lenses. She blushed a shade that was alarmingly close to the color of her sprightly uniform top. "Oh, dear! I am, sorry, sir, but..." she waved at him as she let her glasses fall back to rest against her non-existent bosom. "Well, with the way you're dressed..."

Randal looked down at himself. He was wearing one of his usual ensembles--all black suit, with a black Henley shirt underneath. Something clicked, and he grinned at the women. "Oh. Oh, no, ma'am, sorry." His mind flashed back to the booth in Crowley's, licking the blood off Naresha's pale palm as something techno-Goth thumped in the background. "Not by a long shot, I'm afraid."

"Yes, I can see now that you don't have the collar, but some of the younger priests..." she shook her head. "And you can't tell most of the sisters from lay women these days."

"Except by the shoes," commented her companion, "I've never seen a nun who doesn't wear sensible shoes."

Randal nodded gravely. "Makes sense, though I was always told that the most reliable standard was the plain white panties." Both women stared at him, and he smiled charmingly. "Could you direct me to personnel?"

"Second floor, to your left," muttered Clarice.

Randal gave them a short bow of thanks and went to the elevator, singing something by Ozzy Osbourn under his breath because he knew that they were going to watch him till he was out of sight. When the elevator doors slid shut he allowed himself a chuckle, and murmured. "Bad Randal."

Personnel was a rabbit warren of rooms off one side of the main corridor. There was a window labeled INFORMATION at the entrance to the hallway that led back into the building, and Randal went there. It looked into an area that held several desks. A soberly dressed woman, much younger than the two greeters downstairs, looked up alertly and came to the window. "Can I help you, sir?"

"I hope so. I'm trying to contact a few people who worked here nineteen years ago."

She lifted her eyebrows. "That's a long time ago."

"No chance they'd still be here, eh?"

"Oh, I didn't say that. This is a Catholic hospital, sir. We sometimes retain staff longer than the lay facilities. I know of at least three staff members who have worked here for more than a quarter of a century. But you have to understand, we don't just give out our personnel information. I'd need authorization, and a compelling reason, to..." Randal opened his wallet and showed her his badge. She looked at it, but seemed unimpressed. "Very nice. Do you have any papers authorizing the release of information?"

*Shit. Oh, for the good old days before everyone knew their rights.* "I can come back with them," he assured her. "But right now all I want is a simple confirmation of whether or not these people are still employed here, or even if they're still alive."

He tried staring her down, willing her to co-operate. It didn't work. He thought briefly of the compulsion he'd felt to make that CD for Naresha, despite his determination not to. The entire Akuji clan seemed to actually believe that the blood sharing had compelled him. *Fuck, if I thought I could work it, I'd bite my own wrist and shove it in the wench's mouth right now.* Instead he said, "Fine. Obstruct justice," and turned away. She hadn't seemed too remorseful.

He walked back down the corridor, muttering angrily, wondering exactly what sort of forms he'd have to forge, and what kind of favors he'd have to exchange to get them.

"Young man?"

He didn't jump, but he almost did. He turned to find a tiny, elderly woman standing behind him. For a moment he thought she was housekeeping, since she was wearing the sort of head kerchief he hadn't seen on anyone except very old grandmothers of European stock. Then he took in a few more details--the skirt down to the knees, the crucifix, and the clunky shoes with thick, rubber soles. Those were what clinched it--sensible shoes. "Yes, Sister?"

She smiled at him, showing teeth so perfect that they'd never grown-in naturally. "I understand that you're looking for a bit of information about staff history."

"That I am, but I've been told that I have to be papered first."

"That's for official dispersion. Gossip is much easier to come by."

There was a certain sly amusement in her eyes that he liked. "What will it cost me?"

"A cup of coffee and a pastry in the cafeteria."

Randal punched the elevator button. "Cheapest bribe I've ever had to come up with. No, wait--scratch that. Harley can be bought for a Twinkie."

She smiled again. "Harley sounds like my kind of man."

The hospital had a surprisingly good selection of pastries. Sister Mary Ruth, with a plate holding one poppy seed and one apple-cinnamon Danish before her, informed him that the convent had several excellent bakers. It was one of their acts of charity to provide baked goods for the hospital, thus cutting their costs. She took a bite and chewed happily. "Sadly, we are also supposed to practice self-denial, and I don't get these very often unless I can finagle someone into offering me one. Now, what skeletons do you want to rattle?"

He toyed with his cup of coffee, smiling at her. "What makes you think I'm looking for scandal?"

"Young man, it is my experience that no one digs back almost two decades to gather material for a testimonial."

"Were you here then, Sister?"

"Oh, yes. I joined the order just after I graduated with my practical nursing degree. Most of the girls I knew who became nuns entered right out of high school--I was a late bloomer. That's part of why I'm talking to you, I suppose. I've seen a tiny bit more of the world than the others. I might even have remained in the secular world if a certain young man had come back from Korea--but you aren't here for my biography. I have served at this hospital since 1974, and I am a busy body, so I know most of what went on not only here, but in the lives of a good part of the staff. What do you want to know?"

"Do you remember a murder case involving one of the residents back in 1983? Craig Oliphant and his wife..."

Sister Mary Ruth put down her pastry and crossed herself. It was a little startling--she acted so normal that Randal had almost forgotten her vocation, despite the habit. "Lord, yes! What a tragedy. He was a very nice young man. Oh, a little stuffy, a little holier-than-thou, and believe me, that isn't easy to achieve when you work with a bunch of nuns. I met his wife at a few staff functions--a lovely young woman." She shook her head, picking up the pastry again. "Neither of them had reached thirty. Such a waste." She chewed thoughtfully. "But God extends his grace, even in the midst of such horror. Their child survived unharmed."

Randal shrugged. "Physically, anyway. The thing is, Sister, that no one was ever caught."

"Didn't the police decide that poor Craig had killed his wife, then himself?"

"'Poor Craig'? Sympathy for the devil?"

Mary Ruth shook her head firmly. "Even if Craig did do it, he was obviously unbalanced. His sin was great, but not unforgivable, but I don't believe Craig was capable of that. Yes, they'd had troubles. I myself saw Mrs. Oliphant with a bruise on her arm once--one that she had no good explanation for. But they were working on that, getting counseling from one of the fathers--who is a licensed family therapist, I might add."

Randal pulled out his notebook and a pen. "Let's start there. Is the therapist still around?"

She frowned, concentrating. "Father Christopher--Christopher Mancuso. He's retired now, has a nice little apartment in one of those managed care facilities near the suburbs. He'll be listed in the phone book. I'm not sure how much you'll get out of him, though. His dealings with his patients were held almost as sacrosanct as confession. Really, why do you want this information? I doubt if he'd be willing to talk, even to close the case--especially since the officials are satisfied."

"Would he do it to save a young woman's life? Bethany, the Oliphant's daughter, is being stalked. We believe that it may be the original murderer."

Sister Mary Ruth's eyes grew large. "No! Really? My goodness, it's just like one of those police dramas on television. He might be willing to help in that case, but I must warn you--his mind may be cloudy. He's older than I am and, though I don't want to sound vain, he hasn't aged nearly as well."

Randal didn't try to stop his laughter. "What else can you give me?"

Not much more. Randal was only interested in employees who would have had regular contact with Oliphant. Most of those had moved on, or passed on. The most promising was William Sunderland, who had been in charge of residents at the time of the murder. He'd retired a few years before, but still lived in the area. Another possibility was Monica Patterson, a nurse who was now working in an 'extended care facility' ("Think 'upscale nursing home'," Mary Ruth told him). Finally there was Casey Dowd, who had been a resident at the same time as Oliphant, and was now in private practice. "Now he might be worth talking to. He and Craig were best friends--study partners in medical school, and all that."

"Is he still here?"

"Oh, my, yes! He married Carla Haines-Borge."

"That name sounds vaguely familiar."

"It should. She's very active in local charities, and we have the Haines Pediatric Wing here--donated by her late father. The Haines were a good family, but proud. Even though she's a very strict Catholic, she was one of the first women I'd ever heard of who kept her maiden name when she married--you know, like that Charlie's Angels girl, Farrah Fawcett-Majors? She'd been widowed for a few years when she met Casey during one of her regular tours. Each year she'd make a donation, and there's be a little luncheon or dinner, with a tour to show her how they were using her money. She met Casey and it was pretty much zing! They were married after only about three months, and she became Carla Haines-Dowd."

She lowered her voice. "It was a bit of a scandal. She was a good twenty years older, already had a teenage daughter. Everyone expected him to be running around on her in no time, though they figured she wouldn't divorce him. She's a very strict Catholic. There were rumors that she was trying to persuade her daughter to enter our order, but nothing ever came of it. Just as well. She turned out to be a bit wild, though she was quite a nice girl when she was younger. As a matter of fact, she even babysat for the Oliphant child after Casey married her mother, as a favor to her stepfather's friend."

"What's her name?" Randal held his pen poised.

"Mister Turner, she was just a child when this happened."

"She babysat for them. She was in their home, she might have seen or heard something important."

"Well, they called her Betty, but I believe her full name was Elizabeth."

"Married name?"

"She was married--for a few months when she was seventeen. She eloped with a much older man she had met at a club."

"They were divorced? I would have thought that Mama would kick up a fuss, her being a strict Catholic and all that."

"I've no doubt that she would have disowned the girl if she'd gotten a divorce. No, Elizabeth's marriage was annulled. In the eyes of the Church, it just didn't happen. Annulments aren't that easy to come by, Mister Turner."

"Think a bit of influence was used?"

"I think the Haines family pulled more strings than a puppeteer. But anyone who believes that the Church is not political has had their head where the sun doesn't shine for the last eight or nine centuries." She brushed crumbs from her hands. "I think that's all I can tell you. I have to go now--I'm due to rock babies in the nursery." She beamed at him as she stood. "I love my job. If you ever need any more information, come see me again," she said as she walked away. "They have a delicious chocolate cake here, and I'd love an excuse to have a slice."

Randal found a fairly un-mutilated phonebook in a lounge area. *Wow. A phonebook left unguarded anywhere else would be missing wads of pages. Maybe the vandals went to parochial school, and are paranoid that the nuns will swoop down with their yard sticks.* He sat and leafed through the pages. Luck was with him--he found addresses for everyone but the Haines daughter. He had no idea if she was using her married name, her maiden name, or a combination--like her mother. *Though if the marriage was made to go poof, she probably wouldn't keep her husband's name. Nothing to say she didn't remarry sometimes between then and now, though. Maybe I can find out from Mom or Casey.*

It was early evening by the time he made his way back to the parking garage. He sat in his hearse for a moment, debating his options. Sunderland had a home in an upscale section of the suburbs--a good half-hour drive away. The nursing home that employed the Patterson woman, and the priest's apartment complex were nearby. So were the offices of Casimir (Casey) Dowd, but if he were anything like most doctors Randal had known, he'd be gone home by now. The Dowd household was in a gated community on the outskirts of town--that one might be a bit difficult to crack, so he'd leave it for the moment.

*Let's see--I can try to catch Dowd at his office, see if Patterson is on duty tonight, or go interrupt the Padre at dinner.* He started the car, smiling to himself. *Or I could go dangle my information in front of one or two Akuji noses, and see what develops.*