There's a small convent on the outskirts of our town, stuck between an overgrown playground and a garage that got closed down a decade ago, when mechanics suddenly had to stop using a wrench and learn how to use a computer.

We park in the driveway in front of the garage. Lucy is driving. I asked her to, even though she doesn't have a license because my head hurts and my hands won't stop shaking. She seems a little worried, and that pisses me off. Which makes me feel like an asshole, which pisses me off even more.

There's an old fashioned doorbell on the iron gate in the tall brick wall surrounding the convent. And there's graffiti all over the wall, the most noticeable is one that says Repent! on the right hand side of the gate, and one that says Dykes only! on the left.

The sound tears through my brain like a tracer bullet when I ring the bell. A woman shows up behind the gate, wearing a black robe and a white wimple that encircles her face.

“Yes?” she says and peers at us through narrow, suspicious eyes.

“We're here for the...” I say, but just manage to stop myself from finishing the sentence. Dead nun, is what I was about to say.

“We were told to ask for Sister Agatha,” Lucy says in her sweetest voice.

The woman unlocks the gate and lets us in, glaring at Lucy, and only then do I actually notice what Lucy is wearing. She's in a white top that's tied in a knot below her breasts and a short denim skirt that is made to look ripped and torn. She looks great, but as out of place as a battle tank in a daisy field. Or I should say a daisy flower in a field of battle tanks. Knowing Lucy, however, I'm sure her choice of attire is intentional, so I don't say anything.

We follow the nun through a giant door with copper panels on it, into a nave with half a dozen wooden benches on each side of the aisle. About twenty feet from the altar at the far end of the room there's a black lump on the floor, roughly the size of a human being.

“The abbess, that's Sister Agatha, will be with you shortly,” the nun says, and disappears.

I look up at the crucifix on the wall up ahead, and let my hand draw a line from my forehead to my chest, and then from one shoulder to the other. There you go, James, I think. You're still going to hell, but now maybe they'll at least give you a shot of whiskey when you get there.

We walk to the lump, and it's indeed a human being. A woman, staring at us with dead eyes as we get closer, and dressed in the same outfit as the nun who let us in. She's a lot younger though and has a knife buried all the way to its shiny handle in her ribs, just under her left armpit. There's a pool of blood on the wooden floor under her and around her, and a thin line of blood from the corner of her mouth down her cheek. The color of it is almost black compared to her lipstick, which is smudged around her lips. Her robe is pulled slightly up, and her naked legs are visible up to and above her knees. She's wearing bright red ankle strap shoes with six inch heels. Or more. But the heel of her right shoe is missing. I look around, and see it on the floor several feet away, by the altar.

“She's hot,” Lucy says.

At least I'm not going to hell alone, I think. But she's right.

We hear the giant door open and close behind us, and suddenly Lucy bends at the waist to inspect the dead body closer, sticking her perfect ass in the air.

Another nun, sixty, maybe seventy years old, walks briskly up to us, and I'm sure I catch her ogling Lucy's rear and the panties that must be very visible to her right now, but then a split second later she looks at me.

“Mr. Barlowe?” she says.

“Yes,” I say. “And this is my assistant, Lucy R...”

“There's no need for you after all,” she says, cutting me off and completely ignoring Lucy's outstretched hand.

“Is that so?” I say. “And what about this dead person here?”

“We will handle it ourselves,” she says.

“Are the police on their way?”

“I was just about to call them.”

“You haven't...??” I say, but am interrupted by the pretentious look in her eyes.

“Listen,” I say slowly. “Call the police. We will wait for them here. And when they get here, I suggest you cooperate with them, and us, as much as you can.” My headache is a cacophony of throbbing pain by now, and I'm letting it show. Her look changes from pretentious to outright hateful.

“As you wish, sir,” she hisses and marches away.

“There, there,” Lucy says and holds my hand.

-

She's back a few minutes later, accompanied by a young nun who never looks at us but just keeps staring down at the floor as she nervously writhes a white handkerchief in her hands.

“The police are on their way,” Sister Agatha says. “Please come with me. This is Sister Claudine, she will stay here and guard the... crime scene.”

“I think it's best if we wait here for the police,” I say.

“Nonsense,” she responds. “We must go somewhere else so we can talk. I very much want to cooperate, Mr. Barlowe.”

We follow her through a door behind the altar, and up a narrow staircase. The abbess is clearly a strong woman despite her age, and, unlike me, has no problem at all climbing the steep stairs. At the top of the stairs, there's a door which leads to an office with a huge stained glass window facing east. In front of the window, there's a solid oak desk with a chair that looks more like a throne than anything else behind it. There's also a simple wooden chair in front of the desk, and a lofty oak closet by the wall opposite the window. Right in the middle of the room is a wooden cross with its base nailed to the floor, standing maybe seven feet tall. And on each end of the crossbeam, instead of maybe some representation of old, roman era spikes, are modern hasps with metal rings attached to them. The whole thing is a creepy sight, but somehow fitting in this room.

Agatha sits down on the throne-like chair.

“Yes, Mr. Barlowe. I very much want to cooperate,” she says again, folding her hands on the desktop, in between an old, silver fountain pen on her left and a decorated silver box that seems to serve as a paperweight on her right, with several neatly opened letters under it. “What can I do for you?” she says.

“My job here is to find out who murdered that girl,” I say. “And you can...”

“Oh, I know who did it,” she says.

“You do?”

“Yes, of course. I did say we could handle it ourselves, Mr. Barlowe.”

“Then why did you call us?”

“I didn't. I don't know who did, I must admit. But it was a mistake. And I apologize.”

“And you know who the murderer is?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Who?”

“Sister Claudine. It's quite obvious, really.”

“But...”

“And, of course, she has confessed to the whole mishap. And she is quite prepared to face the consequences of her actions.”

“But... Sister Claudine? That's the girl we left with the victim just now!”

“Yes.”

“That's... bad,” I say. “We have to go back right away.”

“Oh, nothing to worry about,” she says while shaking her hand at me. “Sister Claudine will do as she is instructed. She won't, as you people say, contaminate the victim.”

I close my eyes and massage my temples with the heels of my thumbs. “I don't think I've ever said that,” I say.

When I open my eyes again, the colored glass in the window are all flashing with a blue tint.

“The police are here,” I say. “I'm going downstairs to talk with them.”

“Very well,” Sister Agatha says, “but your assistant must stay here of course.”

“Why?”

“Because she's... well, because the sisters have all taken their vows, Mr. Barlowe, but some of them are... weak. And your assistant is...”

“She's what?”

She shakes her head, annoyed. “I insist,” she says sharply, and I get the feeling Abbess Agatha is used to getting what she wants when she insists. I get the feeling that if Abbess Agatha doesn't get what she wants when she insists, she gets quite upset.

“I don't mind,” Lucy says. “It's a good idea.”

I turn around and head for the door, but then I turn back; “By the way, does anyone else ever use this office?”

“Of course not,” she says. “No one comes into the sacristy unless I'm here!”

I open the door as Sister Agatha says; “I know all about your methods, Mr. Barlowe. I will not have you defiling my girls!”

As I leave, I hear Lucy; “Phew, it's hot in here, don't you think?”

-

“Jim?” Rowe says as I walk towards him down the aisle. Two policemen are lifting the body of the dead nun into a body bag, and I can see her shoes are gone now. Another police officer is carefully putting the murder weapon in a plastic bag and then zips it closed.

“That's not a knife,” I say to myself in my best Australian accent. And it's not. It looks more like a letter opener really, and the blade has to be at least twelve inches long.

Rowe is standing next to Sister Claudine, holding her upper arm. She's already in handcuffs, with her hands behind her back.

“Good morning, detective.”

“What are you doing here?” he says. “Don't tell me you're a man of the cloth now. Does Lucy know?”

“You're funny,” I say. “You guys work fast.”

“This lady right here has already confessed,” he says. “I'm taking her to the station, and then all I have to do is the paperwork.”

“Do you mind if I keep her here a bit? I'd like to ask her a few questions.”

“I guess that's okay. I can have an officer waiting in a patrol car outside. Just don't take all day. And you can't take the cuffs off.”

“I won't,” I say. “Why did you remove her shoes?”

“What?”

“The dead nun. She was wearing shoes. Red high heels.”

“A nun in high heels?” Rowe says. “I think you've got this scene mixed up with something from your video collection at home, Jim. She didn't have any shoes on.”

I look at Claudine, but she just stares at the floor. “Right,” I say to Rowe. “Never mind.”

-

I take Claudine's arm and lead her back the way I came. She follows willingly, still staring at the floor. It feels as if I'm leading a whipped dog around. We go up the stairs to Sister Agatha's office, and I lift my hand to knock on the door, but then I suddenly feel Claudine pulling away a little. I turn to her.

“What's wrong?” I say, but she's just staring at the floor, silent.

“You don't want to go in there?” I ask.

She shakes her head slowly without lifting it.

“Is there somewhere else we can talk?”

She nods.

-

We had to go back through the church, pass Rowe and the police officers and through the giant door to get outside, where we turned right, through a garden where several nuns were working, pulling weeds and turning the soil. Some of them lifted the hem on their robes as they walked around in the dirt and the mud, and I noticed none of them had shoes on. And none of them seemed to even notice us as we passed them.

We're in a different building now, the nuns' dormitory, and we're in Sister Claudine's bedroom, which can't be more than ten by twelve feet, with empty stone walls all around. She's sitting on a stool in the middle of the room, and I'm leaning against the wall by her plain and clearly uncomfortable bed. Except for a small table under a tiny window, there's nothing else there.

I can hardly wait to begin the interrogation, but I can't without Lucy being there. That's the deal.

“I'm going to get my assistant,” I say. “Do not go anywhere.”

She doesn't answer, but I have no doubt she won't even move while I'm gone.

I go back to Sister Agatha's office and knock on the door. No one answers. I knock again.

“Just a minute!” Lucy calls from behind the door, but then just a few seconds later she calls again. “Come in.”

I open the door, and the scene inside doesn't seem to have changed since I left, except Lucy is now sitting on the chair in front of the desk. Agatha is still sitting on her throne.

“I'm about to begin interrogating the suspect,” I say. “I would like for you to be there when I do, Lucy.”

“There are no suspects, Mr. Barlowe. I won't allow it,” Sister Agatha says.

“I'm not asking for your permission,” I say.

“Don't worry,” Lucy says to her and smiles. “I'll keep him in line.”

The old woman seems comforted by that, although not entirely convinced. But she lets us go.

“What happened in there?” I ask as we walk to the dormitory.

“I just asked her a few questions. She did need some... inducement at the tougher ones, though. I made sure she got a chance to sneak a peek or two.”

“What did you find out?”

“Well. Some of the sisters here, as she put it; occasionally engage in unspeakable perversities.

“Unspeakable perversities?”

“Yeah. They get together at night, and then it's all whips and ropes and all things dope.”

“Nice.”

“Yeah. I asked her how she felt about the sisters having, you know, such pastime activities, and if she ever tried to do something about it. And her answer was actually a little insulting.”

“You, insulted? This I've got to hear.”

“All whores,” Lucy says, imitating Agatha's voice, “such as yourself, miss, need to be disciplined.”

“Hoy.”

“I know! But she told me she doesn't do it herself. I am an old woman, miss, and it is only my duty to oversee the chastening, to ensure it's done per the rules I have set.”

“Rules, huh? Anything else?”

“Yeah, one thing. I said something like; Well, obviously the disciplining doesn't work, and she said something interesting. She sort of mumbled it really, and I'm sure she wanted to bite her tongue off after she'd said it. I pretended I didn't hear her, but I did.”

“What did she say?”

“She said; Oh, I've got them under control. And that flat-chested little brat for sure.”

“So who's them? Who else is involved?”

“A Sister Elena. I'll go and find her when we're done with Claudine. But I got the feeling there's more than a few more nuns here doing the naughty.”

“I thought they had all taken their vows,” I say sarcastically.

“Well, some of them are weak,” she says and giggles. “Thank God.”

-

We enter Claudine's bedroom, and as I thought, she hasn't moved. Lucy sits down on the bed. Claudine glances at her as Lucy pulls her legs up and sits Indian style, grabbing hold of her sneakers with both hands, like a child watching her favorite cartoon.

“So, Sister Claudine.” I lean against the wall again. “The abbess wanted us to let you know that she expects you to cooperate fully, and do as we tell you to do,” I lie. “She insisted, actually.”

For the first time she looks at me, and she's beautiful. She can't be more than eighteen or nineteen, with big, blue eyes and snow white skin. I can't really read her expression. It's fear, I think, but just a little. There's some kind of thankful eagerness there as well, as if she's just heard the words she was longing for.

“Of course, sir,” she says. “If she insisted.”

“You killed Sister Mary?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“We had a fight. She ran and I ran after her into church and stabbed her.”

“What was the fight about?”

“We had sex,” she says matter of factly. “She was a little rough, I tried to get her to stop and she got scared and ran.”

“And you ran after her with a knife, caught up with her and stabbed her from behind?”

“Yes.”

“I see. Tell me, Claudine, what do you wear under your robe?”

“Tunic,” she says.

“What?”

“It's not a robe, it's a tunic, sir.”

“Don't get sassy with me now, Claudine,” I say in a harsh voice.

She bends her neck and stares at the floor again, but I spot a tiny, pleased smile on her face as she does.

“I'm sorry, sir,” she says.

“So, what do you wear?” I ask again.

“Just underwear,” she says.

“Stand up, Claudine,” I say and she does.

“Now remove your tunic.”

She looks up at me again. “I can't,” she says, and turns halfway and shows me the handcuffs. I walk up to her and untie the rope around her waist and pull it off. Then I pull her robe up and over her head, but I let her keep her wimple on. The black robe hangs behind her like a cape, caught in her arms.

She's naked and barefoot. Her feet are dirty, but the rest of her is spotless, and her pussy is shaved bare. She's skinny, less than a hundred pounds for sure, and her tits are small, almost non-existent, but with big and rock hard light brown nipples. There are a few, pink marks across her chest, her stomach and her thighs. Scars from the whip lashing, no doubt. As I back up against the wall again, I look at Lucy. She's biting her lip and breathing deep, seemingly unable to take her eyes off the girl.

“No underwear,” I say. “You lied to me.”

“I'm sorry, sir.”

“The abbess won't be happy.”

“I'm very sorry, sir.”

“Tell me more about your relationship with Sister Mary. How often did you get into this rough sex?”

“We, uhm... all the time.”

“Here in your room or in hers?”

“In the, uhm... No, in my room.”

“You're not sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure. Sorry, sir.”

“Do you only like girls, Sister Claudine?”

“Yes.”

“You have never been with a man?”

“No, sir.”

“Would you rather that I got naked now, Sister Claudine, or Lucy here?”

She lifts her head and looks at Lucy, then at me. The eagerness in her eyes is evident now, and she's practically trembling with anticipation.

“You, sir,” she says.

I kick off my shoes and take my clothes off. She looks at me as I do, and I think I hear a short, whimpering sigh escaping her lips as I pull my boxers off. I walk up to her and without a word I put my cock in between her thighs. I don't put it inside of her but slide it in just where I can feel her smooth pussy lips against the top of the shaft. I have to bend a little at the knees to do it.

I grab her by the hips and slowly pull her back and forth on my cock. She has closed her eyes and is breathing through her nose with short, quick puffs. I move my hands around to her ass, letting the tips of my fingers glide into her crack, and then I pull her to me until her clit is pressed against the root of my cock. I keep her like that, just barely grinding against her.

“Tell me more about it,” I say. “In detail. Was it just the two of you?”

“Yes.”

“You had her tied up and you whipped her? Or was it the other way around?”

“No, sir. She did it to me.”

“Strung up, with your arms stretched out?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But then you wanted her to stop? ”

“Yes, sir.”

“Then what?”

“We fought. She ran away.”

I pull away from her, and my cock is glistening with her juice. Then I push back, but this time I use my hand to guide it upwards and inside her pussy.

“No, please,” she says.

“Do you want me to stop?” I ask.

“No,” she whispers.

I fuck her real slow, pushing my cock hard all the way in and pulling it almost all the way out of her each time. I let my hands run up her back, and I feel the scars there. Some are old but some are new, still clammy with blood. She flinches when my fingertips strike those, but her moans are more of pleasure than pain.

“What about the sex?” I say. “Did you ever lick her pussy?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Did she like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Who else have you done that to?”

She doesn't answer. I go just a little faster.

“Answer me, Claudine,” I say. “Who else have you done that to?”

She still doesn't answer, and so I pick up the speed even more.

“Who else, Claudine?”

“Everyone, sir.”

“Everyone?”

“Yes, sir. Almost... almost everyone.”

“Sister Elena too?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And Abbess Agatha?”

No answer, and now I'm fucking her hard.

“Does the abbess make you do it to her?” I say.

“No, sir!” she cries out, and then her entire body shakes as her orgasm rips through her. I slow down when I feel her orgasm subsiding and I stop and carefully pull out when it's over.

I put my clothes back on. My cock is still throbbing, protesting and begging for more as I push it in place in my pants. As I pull my shirt back over my head, there's a knock on the door. I tell Claudine to sit down before I open.

-

The nun outside is probably in her early thirties, but it's hard to tell. Her face has delicate, soft features, and she's maybe just a few inches taller than Claudine. I open the door only so much that she can't see inside the room.

“I'm sister Elena,” she says. “May I speak with you please?”

I consider asking her to wait a minute, but after Claudine's testimony, I don't really see the point.

“Sure,” I say, and let her in.

She looks at Claudine, then quickly looks away, as if the sight of the naked girl bothers her.

“Not while she's here,” she says.

“Could you wait outside, Sister Claudine?” I say. She gets up and walks through the open door, still naked and still staring at the floor, but Helena follows her and dresses her, gently pulling the robe back over her head. Then she comes back in to the room and shuts the door behind her.

“Are you the one who called us?” I ask.

She frowns just a little. “No, sir,” she says.

“Very well,” I say. “We'll hear what you have to say, but there isn't really any need for an investigation here, is there? Sister Claudine murdered Sister Mary, and I'll be taking her to the police station shortly.”

“But you can't,” she says. “She didn't do it.”

“Is that so,” I say. “How do you know?”

“Because I did.”

-

She tells me her side of the story. How she was here in the room with Mary and Claudine, how they had Claudine tied up and how Mary was lashing the whip at the young girl. How she practically lost control and Elena tried to stop her. They fought, Mary ran, Elena ran after her.

I ask her why Claudine would lie about it all. She says that the abbess probably told her to, and Claudine always does as the abbess say. I ask why the abbess would tell Claudine to do that, and she simply says “Because she can.”

I tell her I don't believe her. I tell her Sister Claudine is going to be convicted of the murder, and that there is nothing I can do. That I'm not putting my reputation on the line for such a story, when there's already an arrest made, with a confession that the abbess herself concurs with.

I can tell what I'm saying almost brings her to tears.

“If your assistant could maybe leave us alone for a few minutes,” she says slowly. “Then... then maybe I could... convince you to try. Somehow.”

“How so?” I ask.

“I could... I could...” But she is unable to say the words.

“You know,” I say as I sit down on the bed next to Lucy. “I think maybe you could. But my assistant stays. I'm sure she won't mind.”

She looks back and forth between Lucy and me. Then she walks up to me and drops to her knees in front of me. She opens up my pants and pulls my cock out through the fly in my boxers. It's gone limp since Claudine, but the moment Elena touches it, it springs back to its full glory again.

She puts her mouth over it and sucks me off. Not expertly, but soon enough with excitement and enthusiasm. Lucy watches her intently while she touches herself.

I tell Elena to ride me. She gets up, lifts her robe and straddles me on the bed. She grabs my cock with her right hand and guides it inside herself.

“You don't wear underwear?” I ask as she fucks me.

“No, sir,” she says between her panting and groaning.

“And no shoes?”

“No, sir.”

“Why don't you wear shoes, Elena?” I grab her hips to let her know I want her to go faster. She does, and she closes her eyes as her grunts and moans get louder.

“I can't,” she says.

“Why not?”

“Whores,” she says, breathing fast and heavy. “Whores don't get to wear shoes.”

“Are you a whore, Elena?”

“Yes,” she says. “Yes, sir. I'm a whore. A fucking whore.”

“Who can wear the shoes, Elena? Who gets to wear the red shoes?”

“The dominus,” she says. “Only the dominus.”

“When she punishes all the whores?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Claudine is a whore too.”

“Yes!”

“But you don't like it when she hurts Claudine?”

“No!” She's about to come. I let my hands run under her robe and up her slender body, up to where I can grab her breasts and knead them. Then I let go of them and put my hands on her back, stroking up and down. She has scars just like Claudine's, but no new ones.

“Does the dominus like it when she gets to punish you all?” I ask.

“She still... has to... do it...”

“All you fucking whores?”

“Yes, siraaaaahhh...!”

Her orgasm is intense, and when it's over she practically collapses over me.

I don't come, but that takes all my willpower and self-control.

“I'm not done,” I say to her and push her off of me.

“Jerk me off. Make me come.”

So she gets back down on her knees, grabs my cock in her right hand, and jerks me off as fast as she can, which is fast.

I come, and the first shot hits her right on her lips before she turns her face away. When I'm done I grab her face and kiss her, licking my own sperm from her lips. When I do that, I hear the soft sounds of Lucy's orgasm beside me, as she comes in that beautiful, quiet, subdued kind of way she does.

-

Outside the room, Sister Elena strokes Sister Claudine's cheek. “Everything is going to be all right now,” she says.

Lucy and I walk behind her to Agatha's office, with Claudine between us. On the way, Lucy calls Rowe on the phone. “Hey, it's me,” she says, and then she tells him what we've got, and that he needs to come back. “Great,” she says at the end and hangs up.

Agatha is writing something on a piece of paper when we walk in. She looks at us and quickly puts the pen down exactly where it was earlier. She grins when she sees Claudine in handcuffs.

“Very good,” she says, and my headache is back.