Ellery Queen Mystery Magazine. Vol. 101, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 610 & 611, March 1993

But I felt that he understood.

Miss Butterfingers by Monica Quill

Under the pseudonym Monica Quill, author Ralph McInerny has created one of the most entertaining of all clerical sleuths. Sister Mary Teresa Dempsey, Emtee (M.T.) to the two other remaining sisters of the Order of Martha and Mary, is a habited, overweight, stickler for correct grammar, with an endearing share of faults, and a head for sleuthing. If you haven’t encountered her before, it’s our pleasure to introduce her in the case of Miss Butterfingers...

1

By the second day, there was no doubt that the man was following her; he showed up in too many places for it to be a coincidence, but Kim let another day go by before she mentioned it to Joyce and Sister Mary Teresa. “Tell him to knock it off,” Joyce said, drawing on pre-convent parlance. “Ignore him,” Emtee Dempsey said. But Kim found it impossible to follow either bit of advice. Joyce offered to go with her, but then it was hard to say what Joyce would do for several hours in the Northwestern library. And then suddenly one day there was the man, sitting in the reading room, looking about as comfortable as Joyce would have.

To feel compassion for a pest was not the reaction Kim expected from herself. Now, after days of seeing that oval face, expressionless except for the eyes, whenever she turned around, she felt a little surge of pity.

She settled down to work, driving the man from her mind, and was soon immersed in the research that, God and Sister Mary Teresa permitting, would eventually result in her doctoral dissertation. When she went to consult the card catalogue, she had completely forgotten her pursuer, and when she turned to find herself face to face with him, she let out an involuntary cry.

“Don’t be frightened.” He looked wildly around.

“I am not frightened. Why are you following me?”

He nodded. “I thought you’d noticed.”

“What do you want?”

“I know you’re a nun.”

Well, that was a relief. The only indication in her dress that she was a religious was the veil she wore in the morning when the three of them went to the cathedral for Mass, but of course Kim didn’t wear a veil on campus.

“Why not?” Sister Mary Teresa had asked. As far as the old nun was concerned, the decision taken by the order to permit members either to retain the traditional habit, as Emtee Dempsey herself had done, or to wear such suitable dress as they chose was still in force, no matter that the three of them in the house on Walton Street were all that remained of the Order of Martha and Mary. The old nun was the superior of the house, but would never have dreamt of imposing her personal will on the others. She had subtler ways of getting what she wanted. Of course, when it came to the rule, it was not a matter of imposing her will but that of their founder, Blessed Abigail Keineswegs, the authoress of the particular path to heaven they all had chosen when they were professed as nuns in the order.

“I think it has a negative effect on people.”

“Perhaps a dissuasive effect is what a young woman your age might want from the veil, Sister.”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”

“Indeed.”

The day Emtee Dempsey lost an argument would be entered in the Guinness Book of Records. What had been particularly annoying about the young man was the possibility that he did not know she was a nun and would ask for a date, and then the explanation would be embarrassing. What a relief, accordingly, to learn that he knew her state in life.

“What is it you want?” She spoke with less aloofness. If he knew she was a nun, perhaps he was in some trouble and thought she might be of help.

“Oh, I don’t want anything.”

He looked intelligent enough; he was handsome in a way, dark hair, tall, nice smile lines around his eyes. Still, you never know. People with very low IQs don’t always look it.

“You can’t just follow people around. Would you want me to call a policeman?” The ragtag band of campus guards would not strike fear in many, but they looked like real policemen and as often as not that was enough.

“I am a policeman.”

“You are!” Kim stepped back as if to get a better look at him. “Chicago or Evanston?”

“Chicago.”

“I can check up on that, you know. What’s your name?”

“Your brother doesn’t know I’ve got this assignment. If you tell him, the whole point of it will be lost.”

The allusion to Richard dispelled her scepticism. “What are you talking about?”

“There’s been a threat against his family. You’re part of his family.”

“Who threatened him?”