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Chapter One
Sister Bernadette Ohlson anticipated her annual vacation with her best friend more than any other event all year, but before she could leave The Abbey: Senior Living, she had to complete the to-do list she’d written on the back of an old envelope. She’d washed her breakfast dishes and emptied the trash bin beneath her kitchen sink so she wouldn’t return from her trip to Seattle to a foul smell. Her apartment windows were locked, an unnecessary precaution since The Abbey, a senior living facility converted from a Catholic convent and grade school, was in a safe neighborhood. Well, Eugene’s West Jefferson Neighborhood was safe if you didn’t count the murders last fall, which Bernie excused because of the extenuating circumstances. Sometimes she caught herself thinking fondly of her old neighbor, Bruiser Wojcik. She’d written to him three times with updates about his old neighbors at The Abbey, including a long letter detailing what happened with Fern, but Bruiser had never replied.
Remembering these events brought Bernie’s attention to the row of assorted potted plants lined up on the windowsill of her living room. She took them from Toni Travi’s apartment after the police released the crime scene to Meadow Jackson, The Abbey’s building manager. Now she poked her finger into the soil of a philodendron. The plants all looked limp and straggly, they needed more sunshine than late February provided. Bernie pinched off a few wilted leaves and crumpled them in her fist.
“Knock-knock.” Jan Kovitz, a sturdy woman in her late seventies who favored sequined tops and bright lipstick, bustled through Bernie’s open apartment door. “Here’s the neck pillow you asked to borrow.” Jan patted a horseshoe-shaped cushion covered in bright blue fabric. “I only used it a few times and it makes napping in a seat much more comfortable. I slept all the way to Philadelphia for my niece’s wedding thanks to this pillow.” She passed it to Bernie who inspected it with a critical eye. “Did you take your Dramamine yet?”
Jan was Bernie’s best friend at The Abbey, one of Bernie’s favorite dinner companions and a woman who was up for anything. Finding anyone over seventy-five with an adventurous spirit was rare and Bernie appreciated Jan’s willingness to try new experiences.
“I’ve traveled before, Jan,” Bernie reminded her, but she hadn’t taken any Dramamine yet. She really should. “Thank you for the pillow.” She positioned it around her neck and leaned her head to one side to test it out. It did feel comfy.
Jan plopped on the couch and leaned forward to examine the jigsaw puzzle laid out on the coffee table. “Oooh! I found your missing edge piece!” She slid the navy-blue segment into place with a satisfied hum. “What’s this one again?” Jan lifted the box cover.
“Giotto’s Madonna and Child.” Jan had added a bit of Mary’s robe, one of the more difficult sections of the puzzle Bernie was saving for last.
Bernie filled a glass at the kitchen sink and carried it to the houseplants. Her apartment, a former sixth grade classroom, still had its original crown molding and hardwood floors. Her other close friend at The Abbey, Rin Sato, already occupied Bernie’s old classroom by the time she returned to live out her golden years. It hadn’t taken long to make the apartment feel like home with her overflowing bookshelves, a large coffee table for assembling puzzles, and an expensive leather recliner with a floor lamp perfectly situated for evening reading and afternoon naps. Tall windows provided plenty of natural light and a view of The Abbey’s courtyard.
As she watered the plants, Bernie looked outside and saw Cliff Warneke balanced on a stepladder violently pruning the shrubs near the garage. Bernie took credit for brokering Cliff’s arrangement with Meadow to perform odd jobs in exchange for a break on his rent. Meadow needed help keeping the old building in working order and Cliff needed to live here because if he lived alone, he’d sink into a bitter stew of anger and self-pity. Bernie got huge satisfaction from managing people’s affairs. It wasn’t sinful pride. She was good at it, and it made her happy to help. God knows you’re supposed to use your gifts to help others!
“She looks annoyed.” Jan pointed to the picture on the puzzle box. The Virgin Mary’s pale face was tilted away from the baby on her lap. “The artist was crap at painting babies though. Baby Jesus looks like a he’s making a business presentation! He has a widow’s peak!”
Bernie sniffed. Jan was right. The Renaissance painters had no knack for painting babies, their work depicted adults holding smaller, pudgier adults in their laps. Bernie blamed the strangely masculine-looking babies on most of the artists being bachelors. Fathers would know what babies looked like. She’d shared this insight with a museum guide in Italy, and her comment was met with an arched eyebrow. Bernie told Jan what she’d said to the guide that day: “I like to think it’s God’s way of frustrating human attempts at capturing His divinity. Have you ever seen a reproduction of the Christ and thought That’s exactly right?”
Jan’s brow furrowed while she thought about Bernie’s insight before saying, “No. But I haven’t seen that many pictures of Jesus. We Lutherans aren’t into statues and saints like you Catholics are.” Jan paused. “But that Michelangelo made David look pretty fine with his washboard abs and all.” She waggled her eyebrows at Bernie. “Come on, Bernie, just because you’re a nun doesn’t mean you don’t notice men. You know, God created them, too. It’s not a sin to rejoice in all of creation.”
“Bride of Christ, Jan. Bride of Christ.”
Jan flapped her hand dismissively and selected another puzzle piece. She tried wedging it into the edge of Mary’s halo. “Tell me, what do a couple of retired nuns get up to on a girlfriend’s getaway? Strip clubs and skydiving?”
“Eleanor and I visit museums, tour historic sites, hike, and enjoy local culture. We go out to eat and listen to live music when we can. Sometimes we sing karaoke.” It’d been a year since Bernie last saw her old friend and colleague Sister Eleanor Field. She wondered whether Eleanor had fully recovered from her heart procedure last fall. Bernie maintained a regular habit of daily walks which she tracked on a pedometer. Her tall, imposing figure had broadened after menopause, but her weight held steady. According to articles in the AARP monthly magazine, strength training was essential to staying in shape. Meadow bought some kettlebells for the exercise space on the stage of the old sanctuary, and Rin Sato had taken it upon herself to teach everyone basic exercises. Bernie preferred kettlebells to yoga and had worked her way up to curling eight pounds. She wanted to stay strong so she could keep up with Eleanor, who hiked, camped, and climbed for fun—and during their last phone conversation, Eleanor insisted she was back in top form.
“Sounds like fun. I can’t recall the last time you’ve taken a trip.” Jan discarded the puzzle piece and got up to browse the bookshelf near the window.
“Because it’s been over a year.” Bernie had traveled around the world after retiring from teaching and before settling down at The Abbey. She’d come full circle, spending her career working as a middle school English teacher in the building where she now lived as a resident. “I’ve been in a rut all winter, so it’ll be nice to reset myself with this trip.” Bernie tucked Jan’s neck pillow into her tote bag. “Eleanor booked us a room in downtown Seattle. The hotel didn’t look all that fancy online, but it’s expensive for some reason. I guess it’s been a while since I’ve traveled, and I suppose hotel prices suffer inflation like everything else these days.”
It really didn’t matter; she’d pay a fortune to see Eleanor again.
The Jedi warrior’s light saber slashed through the air while he feinted left and pivoted to land in a deep lunge to avoid the Sith Lord’s attack. The saber’s blue beam glowed brightly in the shadowy room. The warrior ducked and spun before thrusting the blade deep into his opponent’s belly. “Argh!” he yelled, before pulling back the saber and waving it victoriously over his head.
He sheathed the weapon and adjusted his dark brown cloak over his shoulders. The fabric draped beautifully over his black vest and his gauntlets matched the leather belt around his waist. Adrenaline twitched through his veins, warming his fingertips as he thought about the adventure ahead. His gear was packed. He’d arranged his affairs. Soon he’d begin his journey—a pilgrimage, really—along with his closest friends.
A fluttering movement to his right alerted him to more danger and he whirled around to face the Sith. Crash!
“Damn it!” Detective AJ Lewis tore off his virtual reality headset and rubbed his right shin. He tumbled backward to land on his couch, and he scowled at the coffee table before shoving it with his left foot. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten carried away with his new gaming gear and wound up the victim of the table’s sharp edges. The table in front of his couch worked great for propping up his feet after a long day, but he collided into it every time he played with his new toy. He either needed to stay seated or play in an empty room, which he didn’t have in this one-bedroom apartment.
It had taken him months, but he’d made the space feel like home and wasn’t in any hurry to move again. His Star Wars action figures posed on the bookcase, in front of paperback copies of fantasy and science fiction novels organized by series. Plastic crates housed his comic book collection and canvas prints of a TARDIS and framed mock-ups of Hoth and Tatooine travel posters, this year’s Christmas gift from his parents, hung on the wall above his couch. AJ’s galley kitchen was tidy. Five cereal bowls sat on a wire rack beside the sink and a dishtowel hung neatly over the oven door handle. His neatness didn’t extend to his bedroom, however. He never made his bed and left clothing heaped on the floor. AJ believed in keeping his collectibles meticulously arranged and arranging his comic books in chronological order, but he didn’t believe in using drawers.
A ping from his phone alerted him to a new message on the UP Crew group text. The gang from his college days at the University of Portland had a regular habit of gaming online together but their busy lives made it tough to get everyone together in person. This weekend they were finally meeting up in Seattle to attend the Jet City Comic Con after years of talking about it.
AJ couldn’t wait. Since he’d last seen the UP Crew in person, he’d broken up with his fiancée, moved into this new apartment, and solved a string of huge cases, including two murders at The Abbey and a stalker at Alton Baker Park. In his spare time, he’d caved in and bought a pair of running shoes to join the throngs of fitness buffs pounding the pavement around Eugene. Genetically blessed with a lanky frame, his running goals focused on building endurance so he could climb stairs without losing his breath. The cardio conditioning was paying off, proving the value of naming a goal and sticking to it. With his broken heart mended, boxes unpacked, cases solved, and improved physical stamina attained, he started a bucket list of experiences he wanted to have. Attending a Comic Con with his best friends from college topped that list. He felt proud to cross off an item after this weekend. It felt like progress.
Wags had sent the group a photo of the gang at the opening of his restaurant, Ong’s Kitchen, the last time they’d been together. AJ smiled at the memory while studying the photo. The shortest and friendliest of the bunch, Kou Wagner lived in Vancouver with his partner, Choua. His round cheeks squeezed his brown eyes into narrow slits when he smiled. Mike Quinn, A.K.A. Mikey, loomed behind Wags with his arms draped over AJ and Garret’s shoulders. Mikey’s goofy face with its slightly bulging eyes and crooked nose was topped by thinning blond hair combed forward to disguise his receding hairline. He lived in Spokane with his college sweetheart and their two sons, giving him the longest drive to Seattle. AJ looked younger than his friends. He was thinner and his almond-shaped eyes and faded freckles made him look boyish and innocent. Garret Eich had thick curly hair, long eyelashes, and a sharp jawline. Women always tried to get his attention, but he never caught on. Garret scaled the corporate ladder, and now he was the CFO for a big company in Chicago. He’d offered up his parents’ basement in Seattle for this trip, but the others agreed they’d reached a stage in life where they preferred hotel beds over sleeping bags, so Garret booked two suites downtown using his corporate connections.
AJ skimmed over the texts he’d missed, a combination of trash-talking and confirming their plan to meet at five. He couldn’t wait for all of it—seeing his friends, experiencing his first Comic Con, meeting writers and illustrators and actors from his favorite series. And the gaming and gear he’d get to check out. He felt like a little kid the day before Christmas Eve, except now he had money and no older people holding him back from having fun.
Bernie guided her suitcase down the wooden stairs to the lobby with a steady thump-thump.
“Bernie, I would’ve helped you with that.” Meadow walked over from her desk in the lobby. The young building manager wore her honey-blonde curls tied up in a batik print headband and few tendrils brushed against her cheeks. A pair of bright-green Doc Martens showed beneath the bottom of her cuffed jeans.
“Don’t be silly.” Bernie pulled her bag to the building’s main entrance and poked her nose in the common area to say goodbye to her friends. Rin Sato and the Harringtons looked up from their craft projects with cheerful smiles.
“Have fun,” Rin told her. “If you think of it, bring us back something good.”
“Like coffee?” Bernie asked.
Rin shot her a disgusted look. “Very funny! Everyone knows Portland’s Stumptown is superior to anything you’ll find in Seattle.”
“So long, farewell!” The Harringtons began singing. Bernie forced a laugh. The sisters could be so irritating with their penchant for show tunes. She waved and rejoined Meadow at her desk.
“Just a sec.” Meadow wrapped a hand-knit wool shawl over her shoulders. She flipped the sign hanging from the front of her desk, so it now read GONE—CALL MY CELL! “All set.”
“I appreciate the ride,” Bernie said while Meadow squeezed the suitcase into the trunk of her tiny hybrid car. Bernie folded her body into the passenger seat, her knees brushing against the glove compartment, and prayed her seat on the train would be more spacious. She hugged her carry-on bag in her lap.
“How do you plan to pass the time on a seven-hour train ride?” Meadow asked while craning her neck to check for traffic.
“I have a few books in this bag, and I plan to take a nap.”
“Sounds reasonable. When’s your friend meeting you?”
“Eleanor flew in earlier today. She called me an hour ago. I’ll meet her at the hotel.”
“And you remember how to get a ride from the train station to your hotel?”
“I do. Thanks for installing that on my phone.” Bernie looked down at her liver-spotted hands gripping the leather handle of her bag. I feel nervous. How silly. She’d traveled around the globe by plane, train, automobile, and boat. She’d hiked, skied, and even rode a horse some distance through the Sahara Desert. A train trip to the next state shouldn’t have her worked up. Seattle was a tame destination compared to other trips, like one to Laos and another to Brazil. And of course, no place was more hostile than Australia and she survived that! It annoyed her to discover growing older did not eliminate fear. Her fingers reached for the cross pendant she wore around her neck and Bernie took a few mindful breaths while praying for peace.
What could possibly go wrong on a trip to Seattle?
End of Excerpt
