The Sinner Read Online Free PDF

the way we found it this morning,” said
Mary
Clement.
    “Didn’t she go to sleep last night?”
    “It’s more likely she rose early. She usually
does.”
    “How early?”
    “She’s often up hours before Lauds.”
    “Lauds?” asked Frost.
    “Our morning prayers, at seven. This past summer, she was
always
out early, in the garden. She loves to work in the garden.”
    “And in the winter?” asked Rizzoli. “What does she
do
so early in the morning?”
    “Whatever the season, there’s always work to be done,
for
those of us who can still manage it. But so many of the sisters are frail now.
This
year, we had to hire Mrs. Otis to help us prepare meals. Even with her help, we
can
scarcely keep up with the chores.”
    Rizzoli opened the closet door. Inside hung an austere collection
of
blacks and browns. Not a hint of color nor embellishment. It was the wardrobe of
a woman for whom the Lord’s work was all-important, for whom the design of
clothing
was only in His service.
    “These are the only clothes she has? What I see in this
closet?”
asked Rizzoli.
    “We take a vow of poverty when we join the order.”
    “Does that mean you give up everything you own?”
    Mary Clement responded with the patient smile one gives to a child
who has just asked an absurd question. “It’s not such a hardship,
Detective.
We keep our books, a few personal mementoes. As you can see, Sister Ursula
enjoys
her African violets. But yes, we leave almost everything behind when we come
here.
This is a contemplative order, and we don’t welcome the distractions of the
outside world.”
    “Excuse me, Reverend Mother,” said Frost. “I’m
not Catholic, so I don’t understand what that word means. What’s a
contemplative
order?”
    His question had been quietly respectful, and Mary Clement favored
him with a warmer smile than she had given Rizzoli. “A contemplative leads
a
reflective life. A life of prayer and private devotion and meditation.
That’s
why we retreat behind walls. Why we turn away visitors. Seclusion is a comfort
to
us.”
    “What if someone breaks the rules?” asked Rizzoli.
“Do
you kick her out?”
    Maura saw Frost wince at his partner’s bluntly worded
question.
    “Our rules are voluntary,” said Mary Clement. “We
abide
by them because we wish to.”
    “But every so often, there’s got to be some nun who
wakes
up one morning and says, ‘I feel like going to the beach.’ ”
    “It doesn’t happen.”
    “It must happen. They’re human beings.”
    “It doesn’t happen.”
    “No one breaks the rules? No one jumps the wall?”
    “We have no need to leave the abbey. Mrs. Otis buys our
groceries.
Father Brophy attends to our spiritual needs.”
    “What about letters? Phone calls? Even in high security
prisons,
you get to make a phone call every so often.”
    Frost was shaking his head, his expression pained.
    “We have a telephone here, for emergencies,” said Mary
Clement.
    “And anyone can use it?”
    “Why would they wish to?”
    “How about mail? Can you get letters?”
    “Some of us choose not to accept any mail.”
    “And if you want to send a letter?”
    “To whom?”
    “Does it matter?”
    Mary Clement’s face had frozen into a tight,
lord-give-me-patience
smile. “I can only repeat myself, Detective. We are not prisoners. We
choose
to live this way. Those who don’t agree with these rules may choose to
leave.”
    “And what would they do, in the outside world?”
    “You seem to think we have no knowledge of that world. But
some
of the sisters have served in schools or in hospitals.”
    “I thought being cloistered meant you couldn’t leave the
convent.”
    “Sometimes, God calls us to tasks outside the walls. A few
years
ago, Sister Ursula felt His call to serve abroad, and she was granted
exclaustration—permission
to live outside while keeping her vows.”
    “But she came back.”
    “Last year.”
    “She didn’t like it out there, in the world?”
    “Her mission in