Murder at the Convent,
Working Readers' Radio Theater script from book
Murder at the Convent
Jessica Stewart Student Nurse Series,
by Patricia Hanrion Copyright pending 2014
Setting: Phoenix
Arizona in the early 1960’s,
Characters:
Ben Watts: Detective who is reminiscing and tells the story.
Isaiah Irons: Chief of Detectives in the Phoenix Police
Department
Dr. Alice Dunn: Coconino County Coroner.
Mother Superior: Sister Mary of the Lamb, Abbes at the Good
Shepard Convent
Sister Mary full of Grace: Cook for the Convent
Novice Sister: Josetta Mary of the Rose
Novice Sister: Mary Gabriel the sanctified
Student nurse: Jessica Stewart, first year
Opening
Music: theme song…fades as Ben begins to speak
Ben: Back then when I was a cub detective I cut my
teeth on a series of murders across the Phoenix area that would curl your hair
and taught me all about the importance of bloodhound research, when looking to
solve a crime. My boss, and mentor at
the time was Isaiah Irons, a stub of a man, but in this case size does not
matter. He originally hailed from the Chicago area, and was as hard as his name
implied. His thin grey comb-over was slicked
across his rapidly balding pate which was in sharp contrast to the bunched muscles
under his cheap suit.
I was very young and didn’t even have the money for a cheap
suit, so after the promotion wore a white shirt with a frayed collar and the
tie my mother gave me when I turned 18.
I answered the call for my first case at seven am one
summer day with the innocence of a baby needing a pacifier but was soon shocked
into adult hood when I heard the unyielding voice of the Mother Superior at the
Convent of the Good Shepard.
Foley
(phone rings)
Mother
Superior: Please help us.
Detective, please, I didn’t know who else I should call…please…come out to
the convent. I know it’s a bit of a drive in this heat but Sister Josetta Mary of
the Rose didn’t come to morning mass so I went to her cubicle thinking she was
ill with the cold so many have been cursed with in the past few weeks. But I found her on her cot, not breathing,
with no pulse, and as chilled as the winter wind.
Ben: I told
her to take a breath and calm down.
“You’ve done the right thing calling us mam; we’ll leave immediately and
should be there within the hour. Don’t touch or move anything. Don’t let anyone in the room and if there is
a window keep the area under the window blocked off until we can collect
evidence. If possible, tell as few as
possible.” I heard her weeping softly,
“Do you understand mam.”
Mother
Superior: “Yes, I do, and since none of our doors lock, I will close
the door and have one of our novitiates sit guard until you can arrange to get
here. (She sniffs) Oh Dear, Sister
Josetta was only a young girl and about to take her final vows so could not
have died from any age related ailment.
I can’t imagine what has happened, but I fear she has condemned her
soul.
Ben: She hung up and I gave the information to the
Chief. He gave a low whistle.
Isaiah: I
heard there was a cloistered convent out a ways on a side road near Surprise
but in all my years at this station don’t think we have ever gotten a call from
there. They are in our county
jurisdiction so we had best get out there… (laughs)
Ben: He
laughed uncomfortably.
Isaiah: And
get on with this investigation so we can stay on the right side of the Lord,
son. First of all, I’m sure whatever happened
was an accident, or natural. Growing up
in Chicago, there was a church with either a seminary or a convent on every
corner and one thing I learned was you can always trust the nuns, though most
are tough as nails. If it wasn’t an
accident then we need to find out who else goes out there, and why. Call Dr. Dunn and see if she can come along
with the coroner van.
Foley:
dialing phone, vehicles moving…
Ben: It
took us an hour to travel across the desert to the remote convent tucked
between two dry knolls dotted with saguaro cactus. The chief spent most of the ride with his
head back and eyes closed as if taking a nap.
The air was already beginning to heat up and I heard tower bells chime as
we drove up. The entire convent
consisted of several cottages, four large dormitory type buildings and an Abby
Church on about fifteen acres of sandy desert, all surrounded by ten foot tall
fences with secure gates front and back.
As we drove near, the front gate opened as if by magic and we pulled
past a wide green lawn surrounded by an abundance of flowering plants that gave
it the appearance of an English garden. The
scene was out of place in this sweltering valley where water was at a
premium.
Foley
(Gate creeks open…car comes to halt, doors open and close under dialogue)
We parked in the small dirt lot in front of the main
building; and were followed closely by the coroner in her van who parked next
to our squad car. Mother Superior, was
as crisp as new fallen snow in her blinding white habit when came out of the
main building to meet us. Isaiah took
the lead while I recorded notes and scanned the surroundings for unusual
circumstances.
Isaiah: Mam,
Mother
Superior: (Interrupting) you may call me Mother Mary if you like…
Mother Superior visits Alaska
Isaiah: Mam…uh,
(Uncomfortably mumbles) Mother Mary, I’m Isaiah Irons…chief detective and this
is Ben Watts my assistant, the man you spoke to when reporting
your…um…incident. We’ve brought with us
the coroner, Dr. Alice Dunn, to examine the um…Sister in question. Now first off; have you discussed this with
anyone else here at the convent since you phoned?
Ben: I
noticed the chief sounded unusually formal and stiff as he went through the
litany of routine questions.
Mother
Superior: Why, No Sir, Ah, I
mean detective, not even the novice sitting at Sister Josetta’s closed door.
Ben: She
wrung her hands and spoke so softly I had to lean forward to hear the rest of
her response.
Mother
Superior: I’ve done as you directed and let none of the sisters, or
any of the help, know of the, er incident, although due to my vows I was
obligated to contact our Holy Mother home in San Salvador.
Isaiah: And
you told them…what?
Mother
Superior: Well, um, because of the time change, I could not reach
them, so left a message that I would call them back with a matter of immediate
importance.
Now… Please follow me. Shhhh. We’ll take the short cut
through the Abby chapel where the Sisters are at morning joined prayer.
Foley:
(Slight swish of clothing, footsteps door creeks open, chanting prayers in a
high pitched melody reciting the rosary or some Gregorian chant. another door
creeks open and closes then footsteps are heard echoing down a hall,-under
dialogue)
Ben: Her robes flowed around her and the blue band
on the edge of the long cloth over her head was as stiff as a one hour
corpse. She folded her arms over the
heavy cross that hung from a narrow ribbon around her neck and placed her hands
under the long sleeves of the gown. She glided
in front of us like a sheet covered ghost without a rustle or movement from her
heavy clothing. It must have been over
110 degrees in the building which had no air conditioning. There was very little help from the few fans pulling-in
blasts of hot air from the outside.
Foley:
Fan blowing in back ground until they enter the room of Sister Josetta
After rapidly passing through a maze or corridors we reached
a young woman sitting on a stool in front of a closed door. I noticed there was not one bead of sweat on Mother
Superior’s creased face, while I had sweat rings to my ankles. She placed a hand on the shoulder of a great
lump of a girl and introduced her.
Mother
Superior: Sister Gabriel here…is a Novice who came to our Mother
House as an infant from our orphanage in Ecuador. Her cubicle is just across from Sister
Josetta’s. I set her as guard, so to
speak, and instructed her not let anyone in or (clears throat)…echm, out. You
see we have no locks on any of the doors within our convent, and all are left
open for anyone to enter as they choose.
The only locks are on the gates.
One at the front gate, the automatic electric one we recently had
installed with a donation from a relative of one of our novitiates…and the service
gate at the back where one must press a buzzer to have someone come out and
open the lock. As far as I know no one
entered or left after about five last evening.
And I left all as I found it for you to examine.
Ben: Even
now I remember how intently I observed everything and wrote in my new notebook. I was trying to appear full of efficiency
with spare sharpened pencils on hand to impress my new boss. My first note stated the novice had her head
down as if in prayer.
Isaiah: Ah, I see. Thank you,… so now…Sister Gabriel,
young lady, I’m Chief Detective of Coconino County and need to ask you a few
questions…I understand you came from Central America… you speak English?…intiendo
Englase?
Sister
Gabriel: Sir, although I was left on the doorstep of the orphanage
and then passed on to the convent when an infant, I was sent here to the United
States when only three, my English is fine…
Ben: Her
voice was lilting, hypnotic, as if singing softly as she spoke.
Isaiah: (interrupts) mmm… good…So you were-are, friends with Sister
Josetta?
Foley:
(stool scrapes)
Sister
Gabriel: Sir, we are not what you would call friends. Although we began our final training together,
I was assigned to kitchen nutrition and chanting as my Divine Calling, while
Sister Josetta went to the infirmary, and was given the Sacrifice of silence
and recollection. We never see one
another except at meals, and she is usually on assignment during prayers, and anyway,
as Sisters of the Good Sheppard we are to have no friendships, except with our
Lord.
Mother
Superior: Thank you for your little service here my dear… you may go
to the kitchen and ask Sister Mary Grace to find you something to eat since you
have missed morning meal. Please, stay there and don’t speak to anyone until I
come to get you.”
Ben: I saw
Sister Gabriel, head down with her face covered by her loose scarf go slowly down
the hall… but before she turned the corner she lifted her head to give a
questioning look at Mother Superior.
When the cloth fell away from her face I could then guess why she was at
the convent. She was horribly deformed
with puffy strawberry marks covering it on one side from chin to forehead. She had very small eyes so close together
they appeared crossed. Her large crooked shoulders crowded into the grey novice
habit which fell to her substantial ankles and she walked with a limp. Wisps of
damp stringy hair escaped from her head covering. However, her strange face and demeanor was quickly
forgotten when I recalled her hypnotic voice, much like the melodic tinkling of
a bell.
Foley:
scrape of stool, latch lifted, door opens
Isaiah: Are
all the rooms alike?
Mother
Superior: Yes, captain, we only need a small personal space as there
is naught a need to store personal items.
We only have what we need, and no more.
Ben: The
captain stood there blocking the doorway for a moment silently observing and
when he finally entered with the others following I could finally see in the
room. The sparseness was what I
expected. Plain, with everything beige
or some shade of tan, a bed, table, stick lamp, a chest, and a small high window
which had no glass with crossed bars imbedded into the thick adobe walls. The
room was so small it seemed like a closet and barely held the few pieces of
furniture. After I maneuvered my way to the end of the bed around the wall of
warm bodies, I could see there was no life within the girl before me. She was prone; and had a white rose clutched
tightly in her right hand and a bible in her left. My first thought was of a photograph advertising
a perfume in Life magazine; like a set stage for what I saw on the bed
surprised me; the tiny and very shapely young lady dressed in novice attire had
an absolutely enchanting face. Her
headscarf was on the bedside table so her long fair hair was loose and framed
her face like a halo. She looked like an
angel. Yet underneath the skin was the unnatural waxy grey of death and her closed
eyes were circled with dark lavender. If
I didn’t know better I would have thought her sleeping; she looked so much like
a figure frozen in time. My first
thought was “What a shame.” Not because she was dead but because such a young
and beautiful girl had entered the convent without experiencing life. My second thought was about the queasy
feeling in my stomach, and the thickness of the air. And then, I noticed something
out of place; peeking out from under her skirt; a tiny scrap of pale pink lace.
Isaiah:
Mother um…Mary, can you tell me about this young woman? Was she having any problems, with other
sisters or second thoughts about taking her final vows? This feels like a suicide to me, and looks
like one too; I’m quite sure it was not a
natural death considering her tender age and what I see, but we need to rule
out both suicide and murder.
Mother
Superior: OH! My no…I don’t see how that can be, it must have been
something else…a fright, or from the cold we all have had, pneumonia perhaps,
but I must admit, when I entered the room it felt wrong, like a light had been
put out.
Ben: Inspector Irons took a pen from his lapel
pocket and carefully pried the flower from the dead girls’ stiff fingers placing
the evidence in an envelope and passing it to Dr. Dunn. I took the camera from
around my neck and began taking photos of the scene from every angle including
the furnishings and walls. After dusting
for fingerprints, I opened the drawers of the chest and took photos of the meager
contents, noting two of the underthings in the bottom drawer were edged with the
same delicate pink lace I had seen under Sister Josetta’s skirt. Since everything within the convent was
without adornment I considered the garments unusual and wrote down these
thoughts to convey to the Inspector when we drove back to the precinct. Dr. Dunn began her work and pulled out a
thermometer, soon after I saw her write the time of death as between two and
three AM. After concentrating on taking
two rolls of film, I finally began to pay attention to the questioning when Mother
Mary was halfway through her description of the deceased.
Foley:
(Mother Superior is heard speaking under last few words of Ben, and then gets
louder)
Mother
Superior: …and her family was also from Central America. Her mother died of malaria when she was young
which is why she believes her calling is to the sick. Many feel the call to a vocation in our order
from that area although we have now gathered some to our nest all the way from
Europe. And, um… Well now, I must admit Sister
Josetta has had a difficult time in transition to our life since she arrived
three years ago, and I believe still clings to the memory of her father, who is
a lace maker by placing small scraps of his work in places where she thinks it
can’t be seen. I know the bits of froth give her comfort. It
is such a small transgression that I have turned my head, especially since she
can only serve in the infirmary due to her disability…which keeps her from devotional
service elsewhere.
Ben: I
wondered what that disability could possibly be as I looked once more on the
still and lovely body of Sister Josetta.
Mother
Superior: I’ve assisted her
to keep it a secret for her years with us as a postulate and then a novice, but
it has now been revealed. You see…
Ben: She
leaned forward as if to tell a tremendous secret.
Mother
Superior: She cannot carry a tune, not one wit! Has no ear for music, so to speak and has
been excused from choral prayer until now.
But…for final vows one must participate with the other novices in song so
she has recently begun to join in…and now everyone knows of her ungodly curse. You see…A good part of our worship has to do
with harmonic prayers…singing. We strive
to have the most angelic of all voices so the Lord will listen to ours first,
but Sister Josetta has been a trial and often ruins an hour of lovely prayer
with some very sour notes. Such a pity. Even with lots of practice her voice is grinding,
and as flat and sour as a miner’s pancake and I do believe she IS a bit
deaf…or, oh dear…was…a bit deaf….
Ben: Her voice trailed off and her eyes filled with
tears. I looked over at the still
lifeless girl while Inspector Irons droned on with questions that buzzed in my
head like a hive. I began to look more
closely at my cramped surroundings and started to feel claustrophobic. When my
vision blurred I stepped into the hallway to gulp at the still heavy air but
found no relief from the feeling of being closed in. My head began to spin so I leaned against the
wall and slid down to sit on the floor. Then…
I heard a voice…
Isaiah
:
Watts, what’s wrong, are you Okay?
Ben: My
first murder case and there I sat, on the floor like a swooning little
girl. I would never live it down. I told him I was fine…as I watched the body
roll past me on its way to the Coroners van, and said I thought it was the heat
and stammered the excuse that I didn’t have time for breakfast. So…as a result…got a full hour of lecture on
the way back to the station about always, without fail, having something in my
stomach before going out on a potential death call.
Isaiah: Even if it’s not a murder call, if it’s some
bloody accident you could lose your lunch or pass out and look like a fool to staff,
and the public you need to question. No
low blood sugar is permitted! And if you must faint…fall backwards so you don’t
contaminate the crime scene.
Ben: Never
NEVER do that again was his mantra, repeated several times. And finally he said;
Isaiah: Son, (yelling)
I will not speak of this, do you hear?
And thank goodness I know Alice is closed mouthed. You could lose all
credibility if you pull that kind of a stunt in front of someone less
considerate than I…young man!
Ben: He
blustered along like an old pirate. I
kept silent all the way back to the station and vowed not to disappoint him
again because if this was him being considerate, I’d hate to see him angry…my
eardrums would most likely be blown out…
(this
is logical time for station break…if needed)
Foley:
car parking break set, doors open and close, footsteps and then office sounds.
Isaiah: I’ll go over these staff and vendor folders,
and you can review the backgrounds of the others including the elderly nuns and
the priests living in the nursing home building. We’ll meet with Dr. Dunn at five for
preliminary reports so make sure you have your review completed by then.
Ben: I
watched him go into his office with a small stack of papers, while I was loaded
down with a huge box bulging with folders.
Sitting at my desk surrounded by the hum of police activity I set to
work.
Foley:
sound of office activity rises louder…then softens
Ben: Four
hours later I headed toward the conference room with my cursory report and saw
Dr. Dunn sitting at the table tapping her finger on a single sheet of paper.
This time I made sure my belly had one of the stale ham and cheese sandwiches
from the hallway vending machine and I carried with me a large bottle of my
life liquid…Coca-Cola.
Isaiah: I’ve called the convent and
told the Mother Superior we would be there by 9 tonight and ‘ave given her a
list of person’s I need to interview. Hmmm,
my investigation has resulted have a few twisted facts that could lead
somewhere, But let’s hear yours first, Dr. Dunn, then you Ben.
Dr. Dunn:
After a complete autopsy I
found this was basically a young healthy virginal female. There was evidence of some unusual joint
deterioration in her long bone extremities. My final results were inconclusive
but I have a suspicion she was somehow poisoned. Large amounts of oleander were found in her urine
and blood and a small amount in the contents of her stomach. I also found strychnine in her blood. The rest of her body was unremarkable except
for what appeared to be several bee stings on her legs, and I think cat
scratches on her legs and hands then there were the puncture wounds on her
right hand, from the thorns of the rose she held. I cannot tell you if the
cause of death was accidental or intentional; suicide or murder.
I called the head gardener at the convent who resides in
one of the dormitory cottages. He told
me the back hedge of the convent is oleander. He’s familiar with the poisonous
properties of the plant, as he was originally from the Philippines where the
plants are native. I also inquired about
any bees on the premises. Evidently
there are three retired priests in the ambulatory care area of the small infirmary
and all three have become hobby bee keepers.
They have several hives behind the back fences and gave the kitchen
staff their first harvest of honey about a month ago. Honey made from the nectar of the oleander
flowers can cause some severe symptoms not from the pollen or the blossoms, but
from the leaf oil on the pads of the bees which can contaminate the honey. I have only heard of death from eating the
leaves, or steeping them into a tea. There
is an urban legend of a family that died because they roasted their hotdogs on
branches from an oleander, but that has been proven a myth. Ben called me to investigate an unusual
stickiness of the rose which I found to have been immersed in strychnine, whose
origin is a tree. There are three
strychnine trees in the back orchard surrounded by orange and apple trees. I need to find out more about the combination
of those elements as neither one had enough in her body fluids to cause death,
but combined… I’m just not sure.
Before we left the convent this morning I spoke with Sister
Gabriel again and she told me Sister Josetta thought she had some disorder of
the bone and that she chose not to complain of the pain and used silent prayer
as solace. Also of note is the
appearance of the room, the bed and the body, none look as if there was any thrashing
or restlessness which occurred before death.
Her body wasn’t contorted, her clothing was smooth, not twisted or
undone, and her face was serene as if she had fallen asleep. Most poisons cause cramping and pain. And, thank you Ben for all the pictures you
processed and sent to me as they confirmed my memory of how the body was
positioned, and showed no evidence of distress.
Then also there was the unusual bluish, pale tone under her skin, but then…I’m
more used to seeing tan bodies here in the Valley of the Sun.
Isaiah: Thanks Alice, you’ve done your usual through job
and your thoughts go along with my theory of a poison, not a natural death. I agree the serene position of the body
doesn’t fit with any kind of distress and I’m not sure about a suicide as that would
put her in a bad position with her sacred vows… sooo anything else? No, Okay….Ben? shoot…
Ben: The
first thing I noticed at the scene out of place was… um… her undergarments. (I
don’t know why, but the fact that I noticed the lace embarrassed me and I
continued on with a red face) I explained the lace seemed out of place, when
everything else was so plain and disciplined, but then realized it was an
innocent reminder of her home after the Mother Superior’s description of her
childhood. I agree the way the body was positioned seemed like a set-up, flowers
in hand, it seemed like she was sleeping, or ready for a funeral viewing. It
simply felt wrong.
Anyway, did you know every sister takes on the name of Mary
in this convent, and adds another of their choosing; their old name is left
behind and discarded. For some reason
that fact fascinated me and by looking at their entrance records I made a list
of the original names of each sister to see if that would give us a clue. One thing I discovered was that Mother
Superior, and the sister guarding the door; Sister Gabriel Mary, and Sister
Josetta had the same surname as one of the gardeners, but then Garcia is such a
common name, it most likely means nothing.
But then again…there were no other duplicates. I also found out Sister Josetta has an older
brother who immigrated here and became a citizen of the US six years before she
was sent here. He recently returned from
Viet Nam and was hired here at the convent as a general handy man and
custodian. We should have him on the
list to question as he lives with some of the other workers on the premises.
As far as the priests go, I could never find out much about
them, one had recently arrived from South America. They live in the long term conservatory; I
guess that’s where some of the frail retired priests live.
After I examined the flower sample, I could easily identify
it as a rose, from the smell alone, but there was a particular sweetness, and
the stem and thorns were sticky. So I
sent it on to Dr. Dunn, and you heard about it being coated or dipped in a
strong solution of strychnine.
Most of the work is done by the nuns, laundry, cooking and
such, even a lot of the gardening. One
of the custodians who doubles as a gardener came from the same orphanage in San
Salvador as Sister Gabriel and lives at the conservatory also. The total number
of persons at the facility is 48. 7
retired priests, 34 nuns including 5 novices, and 7 other staff. I saw on the record there are 3-4 others who
come in from time to time for repairs who live in a nearby town of Surprise
Arizona. They keep a record at the front
gate and the back one of persons who enter so we know during the evening before
the death the only ones at the facility were the 48 full time residents. I agree
with Dr. Dunn about a poison which still leaves the question, Murder or
Suicide.
Irons: Well
good work, Murder or Suicide. Suicide is
unfortunate, sad and a waste, but no danger to the rest of the living out
there, but if its murder we have to find out quickly, because one murder could
lead to more. And the convent is so
isolated; all those ladies are basically trapped out there, and needless to say
unprepared to defend themselves. I
checked the small shed toward the back gate and the only means of transportation
for the sisters is an old station wagon.
Good work everyone.
Ben: At that point a 911 dispatcher ran in to say
there had just been a call and a hang up from the convent, and when they tried
to return the call, all the lines were dead.
The three of us snatched up our papers, ran out to the squad car, and
took off with lights flashing.
Foley:
Doors slam…Police car sirens start up and fade to, music and
Commercial break
Without even stopping to scold myself I pulled it together and went to work with cleaner and got the soot removed immediately. I moved around some of my decorations and filled in the empty places where things had gone up in smoke. The only thing left was the smokey smell and I got rid of that by opening all the windows and doors (learned from experience) and lighting some candles. By the time Patrick came back down the stairs with a camera to record my fiasco...HA! the mess was gone! And thank goodness there was no record of my mistake to show our guests or tease me with....
