Vengeance Is Mine by Joanne Fluke Page B

completely deserted. Steps echoed hollowly along the corridors, and it had all the charm of a classic horror movie. Even though Dale was sure that Ray Perini had been hit by one of his mob connections, he checked the door again to make sure it was securely locked from the inside.
    He had almost five hours to work before the watchman made his rounds. Dale pulled several books from the shelves and placed them next to his yellow legal pad. The courthouse lobby stayed open until midnight, part of the city’s new extended hours policy. Dale had laughed when he read the new hours. It seemed ridiculous for the lobby to remain open when all the offices were closed, but the midnight curfew was policy now, and Dale doubted that it would be changed in the near future. At midnight the watchman, hired expressly for that purpose, would check the premises and lock the outside doors.
    Dale set his alarm watch for ten minutes to twelve and opened the first book. In no time at all he was lost in the intricacies of an involved Minnesota statute.
    It was a few minutes past eleven when Dale heard the sound of heels clicking on the polished floor of the lobby above him. The cleaning crew had left some time ago. Vaguely he remembered the mop buckets clanging as they stored their things in the janitor’s closet next door.
    The footsteps grew louder as they descended the stairs. A moment later there was a soft knock on the library door.
    Dale stuck a paper clip on the page he was reading. He walked to the door and squinted through the peephole. A nun stood waiting patiently in the corridor outside. There was another figure in a black cape standing behind her, a second nun or perhaps a priest.
    For a moment Dale was perplexed. Then he remembered the pledge he had signed for the Catholic Children’s Fund. They must really need money badly to track him down in the law library after eleven o’clock on a Saturday night.
    There was another knock on the door, a little louder this time. Dale sighed and bowed to the inevitable. He fixed his face in a welcoming smile and unlocked the door.

CHAPTER 8
    Mother Superior spread out her collection of holy cards and selected nine Sacred Hearts for the first page of her album. The Holy Family cards would go next, and then the missionary sisters. She would save the signed cards for last. They were the most precious. And Archbishop Ciminski had promised to bring her a holy card blessed by the pope.
    The album had been a Christmas present, and Archbishop Ciminski had assured her that it was perfectly proper to put her holy cards between sheets of clear plastic. It would keep them safe and clean. Mother Superior only wished that albums like this had been available when she was teaching. She could have ordered them in bulk and given one to every student for a first holy communion present.
    Since she had 412 different holy cards, sorting was difficult. Mother Superior picked out one of her favorites. It was a beautifully colored picture of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. It had been printed in France, with gold stamp around the halo. Mother Superior decided it should go next to St. Frances Xavier Cabrini, the first American saint, canonized only forty years ago. Her holy card was printed in black and white. St. Frances probably had a few years to go before she rated a full-color card with fluted edges and gold stamp.
    Mother Superior smiled as she pulled back the plastic sheet and lined up her holy cards, three across, three down. She felt much better tonight. The throbbing in her head was completely gone. Sister Kate said the new medication was responsible but Mother Superior was sure St. Teresa of Avila, the patron saint of headaches, had finally interceded for her. The power of prayer was absolute, especially when it was addressed to the proper quarter.
    Another hour, and the album was half filled. Mother Superior glanced at the clock by her bed. It was past eleven, and the house was quiet. That nice young