The Case of the Sin City Sister Read online

  ACCLAIM FOR SISTER EVE, PRIVATE EYE

  “Lynne Hinton grabs you and doesn’t let go until the last page is turned. I hope, no, I pray we haven’t heard the last from Sister Eve, private eye.”

  —PHILIP GULLEY, BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE HARMONY SERIES

  “Lynne Hinton has created a marvelous character in Sister Eve Divine. This nun-turned-detective will keep an enduring hold on your heart and mind long after the case is solved and the roar of her Harley fades into the desert air.”

  —MARK DE CASTRIQUE, A MURDER IN PASSING

  “Lynne Hinton’s reverently irreverent Sister Eve is my new hero. This is not just a well-crafted, page-turning mystery—this is a grounded, believable and enlightened examination of family dynamics, internal emotional and spiritual struggles and the choices human beings make. The characters are complex and multi-dimensional—readers will find themselves relating to them with ease. An absolute joy to read.”

  —MAGGI PETTON, AUTHOR OF THE QUEEN’S COMPANION AND HEAVEN’S DAUGHTER

  “In Sister Eve, Private Eye, Lynne Hinton has once again created a central character who is fascinating, flawed, funny, and compellingly human: Sister Evangeline Divine, the Harley-riding Benedictine nun . . . With her signature combination of warm, folksy characters and down-home style, Hinton strikes just the right note with Sister Eve—a blend of humor, suspense, wit, and incisive flashes of philosophical insight. Sister Eve is a winner.”

  —PENELOPE J. STOKES, AUTHOR OF THE BLUE BOTTLE CLUB, CIRCLE OF GRACE AND SAINT SOMEDAY

  “Although Sister Eve, Private Eye is laced with humor, this eponymous nun neatly sidesteps the potential pitfalls of cuteness. Lynne Hinton writes with grace and compassion and I look forward to learning where she’ll take Sister Eve next.”

  —MARGARET MARON, EDGAR AWARD-WINNING AUTHOR OF THE BOOTLEGGER’S DAUGHTER

  “With keen insight into the life of one who has used her life’s calling for God, Hinton paints a complex and realistic heroine who is sure to win the hearts of readers. Fans of The Mitford series and Murder She Wrote are certain to soak up every page of this well written and delightful novel. I can’t wait to read Sister Eve’s next adventure in this series.”

  —MICHAEL MORRIS, AUTHOR OF MAN IN THE BLUE MOON

  ACCLAIM FOR THE ART OF ARRANGING FLOWERS

  “Will leave you with a contented sigh and a hopeful heart.”

  —NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR KAREN WHITE

  “I devoured this book. There is art and beauty in this story that will linger after the final scene.”

  —DEBBIE MACOMBER, #1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF ROSE HARBOR IN BLOOM AND STARRY NIGHT

  “An expertly penned and tender tale about the blossoming of hearts amidst the storms of loss and grief.”

  —RICHARD PAUL EVANS, #1 NEW YORK TIMES AND USA TODAY BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  ALSO IN THE DIVINE PRIVATE DETECTIVE AGENCY MYSTERY SERIES

  Sister Eve, Private Eye

  Copyright © 2015 by Lynne Hinton

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, scanning, or other—except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Published in Nashville, Tennessee, by Thomas Nelson. Thomas Nelson is a registered trademark of HarperCollins Christian Publishing, Inc.

  Thomas Nelson titles may be purchased in bulk for educational, business, fund-raising, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail [email protected].

  Publisher’s Note: This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. All characters are fictional, and any similarity to people living or dead is purely coincidental.

  ISBN 978-1-4016-9148-6 (eBook)

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Hinton, J. Lynne

  The case of the Sin City sister / Lynne Hinton.

  pages cm. -- (A Divine Private Detective Agency mystery ; 2)

  Summary: “When Eve’s biological sister goes missing, the nun heads to Las Vegas to track her down before it’s too late. Years ago, Eve heard God’s call to become a nun, but her recent stint moonlighting at her father’s detective agency invigorates her so much that she’s wrestling with her vocation. She’s working with him on a case involving a miner in New Mexico when alarming news develops: her sister Dorisanne is missing. The authorities won’t act without evidence of a crime, but Eve knows something suspicious -- and possibly deadly -- is afoot. Challenged to put her newfound gifts as a PI to the test, Sister Eve heads west to Las Vegas to uncover clues about her sister’s whereabouts. What nefarious scheme has Dorisanne become involved in? Is her life in danger? And what is Dorisanne’s estranged husband hiding? Sister Eve will discover there’s always more going on in Sin City than meets the eye”-- Provided by publisher.

  ISBN 978-1-4016-9147-9 (softcover)

  1. Nuns--Fiction. 2. Private investigators--Fiction. 3. Missing persons--Investigation--Fiction. I. Title.

  PS3558.I457C37 2015

  813’.54--dc23

  2014044565

  15 16 17 18 19 20 RRD 6 5 4 3 2 1

  This story is about the bond between sisters, so since I have the best sister in the world, it only makes sense that I would dedicate this book to her.

  To my sister, Sharon Bender, I am grateful and blessed to have you in my life. If you ever go missing in Vegas, I will find you.

  CONTENTS

  PROLOGUE

  ONE

  TWO

  THREE

  FOUR

  FIVE

  SIX

  SEVEN

  EIGHT

  NINE

  TEN

  ELEVEN

  TWELVE

  THIRTEEN

  FOURTEEN

  FIFTEEN

  SIXTEEN

  SEVENTEEN

  EIGHTEEN

  NINETEEN

  TWENTY

  TWENTY-ONE

  TWENTY-TWO

  TWENTY-THREE

  TWENTY-FOUR

  TWENTY-FIVE

  TWENTY-SIX

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  TWENTY-NINE

  THIRTY

  THIRTY-ONE

  THIRTY-TWO

  THIRTY-THREE

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THIRTY-FIVE

  THIRTY-SIX

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  THIRTY-NINE

  FORTY

  FORTY-ONE

  FORTY-TWO

  FORTY-THREE

  FORTY-FOUR

  FORTY-FIVE

  FORTY-SIX

  FORTY-SEVEN

  FORTY-EIGHT

  FORTY-NINE

  FIFTY

  FIFTY-ONE

  FIFTY-TWO

  FIFTY-THREE

  FIFTY-FOUR

  FIFTY-FIVE

  FIFTY-SIX

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  FIFTY-EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  READING GROUP GUIDE

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PROLOGUE

  APRIL 19, 1889

  Caleb Alford stood on the rustic, wood-paneled porch of his childhood home and placed the small piece of turquoise in the front pocket of his jacket. The air was still, quiet. He took in a long breath, strapped on his canvas pack, and stepped down. He walked down the front steps and along the dirt path all the way to town without ever looking back.

  It was four o’clock in the morning as he set out, the da
rkness thick, stars and moon barely lighting the way, the night a long woolen blanket pulled across the eastern North Carolina farmland he had called home all of his life.

  His pack was heavy, making the walk a bit slower. He had everything he would need: an extra pair of work pants, two winter shirts, thick wool socks, a leather vest, a new pair of long johns, biscuits, dried beef, two small apples, and the roll of dollars he had saved for fourteen months. He had a few tools—a small pick and two tin pans—roped to the bottom of the pack, along with a lantern given to him by his father, a sleeping mat, a pair of gloves, and a map drawn and labeled by Judah Gardner that included every detail the old man could recall. Mr. Gardner, a comrade of his uncle, had just returned from the mines. He had quite a story to tell, and Caleb Alford wanted to hear it all.

  The young man had been prepared for this trip for a long time, but now that the day had arrived, he felt weighted down, hesitant. He walked at a slow but purposeful pace. Claire had known about his plans before she realized she was pregnant. It had been discussed by the newlyweds for months, Caleb having been completely forthcoming even before they married. He’d learned of the mines in the West from his uncle Jonathan. His mother’s younger brother had been a soldier in the Confederate Army who traveled as far as the territory known as New Mexico, fighting the Union soldiers in a region fed by the Pecos River known as Glorieta Pass.

  The Confederates had planned to break the Union possession of the West along the base of the Rocky Mountains. After they pushed the Union force back through the pass, they had to retreat when their supply train was destroyed and most of their horses and mules were killed or driven off. Eventually, the soldiers had to withdraw entirely from the territory back into Confederate Arizona and then Texas. Uncle Jonathan had returned to North Carolina, wounded and defeated. The light in his eyes was all but snuffed out, except for the fantastic stories he’d tell of the intricate Indian jewelry he had seen in the hills near the battle site.

  “Turquesa” and “chalchihuite,” his uncle called the Turkish stone that was deemed better than gold, a stone more profitable than silver because the Persian mines where the ore was usually found were being emptied. Out in the desert hills of New Mexico, however, just east of Santa Fe, where the Union soldiers had pushed out the Confederates, there the ore was plentiful. And unlike the gold mines of California and the silver mines in Colorado, there weren’t that many who knew about the turquoise or of its increasing value in Europe and the Americas.

  Caleb was not quite a teenager when he heard his uncle’s tales, but he knew even then that he would head west. All he needed to do was earn enough money to cover the wagon fare and, once the railroad line was completed, the train ticket as well as the mining fees that he expected to be charged when he arrived in the territory known as New Mexico.

  Caleb had planned for his new bride to travel with him, and once they arrived she would find a job in the mining town of Cerrillos, waiting tables at the local diner or taking care of the townspeople’s children. Claire, like Caleb, was resourceful. And she shared his dream, making it her own, feeding their love for each other and their desire to marry. But then, even though they had been very careful since their first time together, she had gotten pregnant.

  He stopped and looked behind him, wondering if he should have awakened her before he left. The sun was beginning to light the sky, which meant Claire was awake. He could see her in his mind’s eye, standing at the bedroom window, her hair long and unbraided, her eyes and nose still red from the night’s tears. She was already showing by the time he was ready to leave—her dresses now pulled tight across her belly. She had less than three months to go before the due date, and when he had seen what was really happening, what it all really meant, he almost stayed.

  Claire hadn’t asked him, but he’d come close to using the money they had saved for his mining trip to pay for the crib and stroller in the Sears catalog, almost took the job at the tobacco warehouse, and almost started clearing the land behind the barn, down near the creek, a nice spot for a little house. But when it came time to stake off the building site and drop by the warehouse and ask Mr. Moore when he would start; when he was standing at the counter at the general store, flipping through the catalog, pointing out the desired baby furniture, the store owner’s wife adding up the deposit, he just couldn’t pull the money from his pocket. He just couldn’t settle when he had gotten so close.

  Claire had urged him to go on. He should go ahead with his plan, find a nice place for the family to live, make some money, and send for her. She would be fine, she had told him, her words hardly convincing. She would stay with his parents and have the baby, give the boy or the girl a good start, a strong name, and then she would join him. His uncle, now recovered and restless after the scars of war, had even volunteered to travel with her and the child. It was a good plan B. It was a solid and good plan B.

  Now was the best time for mining. That’s what Judah Gardner, the old man who was a friend of his uncle, the one passing through, the one who had just returned from panning turquoise, had said. The only reason he had come back was because his mother had taken ill, and he was the only one left to take care of her. “I’d head back out there in a skinny second,” he had said. “A skinny second,” he had repeated, smiling at the young man paying for the map he had drawn, grinning with every detail he added. “Rich and ready for the taking.”

  It had been all that Caleb needed to hear.

  “Caleb Alford,” the driver of the stagecoach parked at the edge of town called out when he spotted the man walking in his direction, looking back over his shoulder. “Are you Caleb Alford?”

  The young man turned his sights away from home and toward the voice calling out his name. “Yes, sir, I’m Caleb.” And he walked over to the coach, making his way to the side of the driver.

  “Then I guess you’re going with us,” the wagon master responded, jumping down to take his pack.

  “Yes, sir, I guess I am.” And he handed him his things and walked around to the door of the coach.

  “You can sit back there if you want, or you can ride up front with me. Just the two of us until we get up to the state line, then there will be a family of three joining us all the way to the train station in Richmond. You’ll likely want to claim a seat inside then. Looks like rain.”

  Caleb headed past the door of the coach, grabbed the hand extended in his direction, and pulled himself onto the front seat. The driver waited a minute, letting his passenger settle, then made a clucking noise and shook the reins. The horses moved forward, and the coach shifted and was quickly pulled along.

  The sky was full of light. Caleb reached into his pocket, rubbed the small smooth stone between his fingers, nodded once more, and didn’t look back again.

  ONE

  Sister Evangeline remained in the chapel even as the altar candles were extinguished and all the other nuns and monks had gone to their chambers for the night. She knelt in the dark on the hard oak bench before her and remained quiet, her head in her hands, her eyes closed, for more than an hour, waiting for something she wasn’t sure would come. She wanted an answer from God—a sign to show her the way—and every night and every morning for the last three weeks, she had stayed in the chapel for hours at a time, waiting for God to tell her what to do.

  She listened, but there was nothing. All she could hear were the birds, the flapping of the wings of the pigeons that came and went from their nests along the eaves of the chapel. She also heard the telltale sounds from the habits of her sisters in the hallway, the kind of swishing noises that the long skirts made, and she knew they had gone first to the kitchen to make sure the breakfast supplies were out and now were on their way to bed. She waited another twenty minutes without an answer and was about to leave when she heard a voice from behind her.

  “This has gone on long enough, Sister.”

  She swallowed hard. She had not heard him come in.

  “It’s been almost a month.”


  It was Father Oliver, the monk in charge of the monastery where she lived, and hearing him speak made her wonder how long he had been in the chapel and sitting behind her.

  “You need not pray any longer for wisdom. You have prayed for that long enough. It is time for you to obey what is being given to you. Your path is clear to everyone here, except perhaps to you.”

  She rose from the bench and sat back against the pew but did not turn around to face her superior. She dropped her hands into her lap, the rosary draped across her fingers, her face down. “But I don’t know,” she replied. “How can I be sure?”

  “Your heart knows,” he answered.

  There was a pause. She did not respond.

  “How do you feel when you think about the work you have done with your father, Captain Divine? How was it to solve that murder?”

  Eve closed her eyes and thought about the case she’d helped to figure out working alongside the Captain. She took in a deep and full breath, her heart opening, as she considered what it was like when she made the educated guess as to who had killed the Hollywood director. The satisfaction of it—the completeness of closing the case—it was true; her spirit soared in those days unlike it ever had before.

  “I am right, yes?” he asked. “This work as a detective, it fulfills you.”

  She did not answer at first. She considered what he said, understanding exactly what he meant, knowing in earnest it was true. She felt something so different when she had worked at the detective agency. She felt connected to the world in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She felt useful and engaged. Alive. The monk was right, and as much as she didn’t want to admit to her passions, she knew it.

  “But how do I know to trust those feelings? How do I know that the feelings aren’t just my temptation, something I should surrender and let go of, not trust? How do I know this urge should be honored and not resisted? How can you be sure I’m not just being willful and disobedient?”

  Father Oliver poured out a long breath. Eve felt him then, just at her back, close but not threatening, not hovering. She was glad to have him near her this way, behind her, not in front of her, not looking into her eyes. It was a bit like the sacrament of confession, with a thick veil, a wall, separating the confessor from the one offering redemption.