The Christmas Night Murder Read Online Free

happened.” She looked at Jack.
    “That’s about it,” he said. “We don’t know if that’s where he called from or even if the clothing belongs to him, but the state police are taking this very seriously and they’re not waiting the usual twenty-four hours to start a search for a missing person. Sister Joseph just called Buffalo and it’s certain he was dressed in a clerical suit at Christmas mass this morning, but no one is sure whether he changed before he got into the car. We’ll just have to wait and see what happens.”
    “I think it’s time for evening prayers,” Joseph said, and there was a murmur of agreement. Everyone went for a coat.
    As Jack offered me mine, Arnold and Harriet joined us. “I don’t like the sound of it,” Arnold said.
    “Me neither.” Jack put his coat on and we followed the nuns to the door.
    “Want to drive over to the scene and take a look? After prayers?”
    “Good idea.”
    It gave me some comfort to know that Arnold was personally interested in Hudson’s fate. We walked out into the darkness together, the nuns in a long line making their way to the chapel.
    If anything brought back memories, that did. How many evening prayers does one attend in fifteen years? Thousands of them, and thousands of morning prayers. The nuns were singing now, their voices drifting back to us on the cold breeze as the line curved along the path, a gracefully moving silhouette. It was Christmas Night and the joy of the day had been rent from us, torn from our hands and hearts. The sharp cold of the wind brought tears to my eyes; the anguish of the situation clutched at my throat.
    We entered the chapel and I heard Harriet say softly, “How lovely.” The four of us sat in the last row, Harriet beside me. She patted my hand and told me not to worry. Then I listened to the service, once again becoming part of the convent family.
    —
    The nuns filed out first, looking peaceful, but I knew they felt as unsettled as I. We drove in Jack’s car, getting on the thruway at the first opportunity. The rest stop, when we reached it, looked like any other with a large gas station at one end and a low building with food and other conveniences alongside a parking lot at the other end. What made this one different was the police presence. There were several marked state-police cars and numerous tall state-police officers wearing the distinctive campaign hats. Jack introduced himself to one of them and there was a brief exchange of confidences, Jack opening the scuffed leather case, a flash of the gold badge, and the trooper respondedby leading us to the place where the clothing had been found. It was behind the buildings and over a small rise. A dog walker had found the jacket and collar.
    A state policeman was standing guard at the taped-off area, but inside the yellow plastic tape there was nothing to see except trampled snow. The small, roughly square space was illuminated by four hand lanterns at the corners.
    “Any sign of a struggle?” Jack asked.
    “Nothing we could see. Maybe a little dancing around in the snow back here.”
    “Find his car in the parking lot?”
    “ ’Fraid not. We were told to look for Wyoming plates and there weren’t any. Checked with the gas station, too. No one from Wyoming charged gas today and none of the attendants remember any Wyoming plates.”
    “You mind if we look around?”
    “Don’t mind at all. I don’t think you’ll find anything. We’ve had so many boots over the area, if anything dropped you’ll have to wait for the spring thaw to find it.”
    “Any estimate on the size of the man from the suit of clothes?”
    “Tall,” the officer said. “Thin. Got a waist smaller’n mine, I can tell you that.” ’ He grinned. He was in great shape.
    The sketchy description fitted Hudson to a tee. Tall and lanky, he had never shown an ounce of fat during the years I knew him.
    “I guess you guys have been all over the area,” Jack said.
    “Up and down