Dick Wolf - owns the world, blah, blah, blah. I just took Goren out for a spin.

Title: Hurricane Katrina

Genre: Humor/Angst

Chap. 10 – Nun Sense

Characters: Goren, Deakins

Location: Major Case Squad, One P.P.

Goren and Katayeva spent the rest of the afternoon tracking down every detail of Sister Mary Agnes O'Toole's life. Bank accounts, credit cards, insurance policies, health insurance claims, news articles, former addresses, former employment, associates, family, friends, etc. Their desks were littered with printouts from databases and faxes. They each sifted through a pile, then swapped piles and did it again to make sure they hadn't missed anything.

"I cannot see a thing that would set off an alarm that someone wanted to kill this woman," said Katayeva.

Goren ticked off his list, "Her insurance, barely enough to cover a modest funeral, goes to her order. Her bank account has less than a grand in it. No large prior balances showing up. The order's pension plan does not allow for a beneficiary. The funds remain with the plan. Parents already deceased. Her will leaves what little she owns to her order. No one benefits financially from her death. Nothing current on her credit cards, nothing interesting previously on them, nobody we've seen in her past looks like trouble."

"So... why are we both so reluctant to close this out as a stupid pharmacy error caused by a doctor's lousy penmanship?"

"Because she's the Archbishop's cousin?"

"I don't give a rat's ass if she's the pope's cousin," said Katayeva.

"Me, neither. So, that's not it. It's too, uh, easy, too neat."

Katayeva stood up and stretched. "I need a break. I'm going to Starbucks™, want me to bring you back something?"

"Yeah, Guatemala…"

"Antigua. Back in five," finished Katayeva, as she strode towards the elevators.

Captain James Deakins sat in his glassed-in office, observing the bull pen. Everyone was busy and relatively quiet. After that screaming match the first day I was afraid this might not work, but they seem to have found a rhythm, a camaraderie. And she didn't shoot Goren when he was driving. Points in her favor for that. I've been in a car when he's behind the wheel. I just need them to wrap up this nun's case to get everyone off my back.

Deakins saw Katayeva return, Starbucks™ in each hand. She placed one in front of Goren, who looked up, nodded, then asked her a question. Katayeva had been listening to her iPod during her foray to Starbucks™, apparently Goren wanted to know what music was playing. Katayeva responded by taking out one of her earbuds and putting it in Goren's ear. Deakins saw Goren close his eyes momentarily and relax to the music. I wonder what it is? Maybe we should have it piped into the bull pen? Goren has accepted her into his personal space with relative ease. And, lord knows, nothing is ever easy with Goren. I have no idea why this is working, just so long as it is.

"Ahhh, I like Ravel," commented Goren on her musical choice, as he handed back the earbud.

"Confess that you were sure it would be Bolero when I told you it was Ravel," chuckled Katayeva.

"Thanks to that Bo Derek movie it is his best known work, but I like this Alborada del Gracioso -- Dawn of the Graceful One."

"So, when I'm a contestant on Who Wants to Be a Millionaire?™, I can ask you to be one of my phone-a-friends?"

Goren was so taken aback by the question that he didn't say anything for a moment.

"Uh, sure, I guess. Are you, uh…. going to be on the show?"

"It's on my lifetime to-do list," grinned Katayeva, "OK, back to reality. Why is Sister Mary Agnes O'Toole dead?"

"The Nun's Tale…perhaps we should ask Chaucer?"

"Or Candace Robb?"

"Well, in Robb's book, the nun claimed to have returned from the dead."

"Our nun is short a miracle."

"Who or what are we not looking at?" asked Goren, tapping his fingers on his desk.

"Have we scrutinized the pharmacy staff sufficiently?"

"Let's turn up the heat on them."

The pharmacy manager faxed over a list of all employees complete with socials, dates of birth, home addresses. Goren and Katayeva split the list and started running the names through various databases. A few employees had minor beefs on them….teenage shoplifting, possession of pot, traffic tickets, restraining order for a domestic dispute. The restraining order guy was on Katayeva's list. His wife had fled to a women's shelter and filed a complaint against him.

"Goren, didn't Sister Mary Agnes work at a women's shelter a while ago?"

Her partner was flipping through his paperwork, "Yeah, Our Lady of the Lake Women's Shelter…from 2003 through early 2005. Why?"

"This guy at the pharmacy, Immanuel Rupenian, had a restraining order on him in 2005 in a domestic violence complaint. His wife was at a shelter."

"We need to find out which shelter Rupenian's wife used."

Katayeva phoned the shelter. They declined to give out any info over the phone.

"We have to show up in person at the shelter. And bring plenty of photo ID. There's a reason these people are paranoid."

"Let's hit the road."

When they reached the SUV in the parking garage, Goren automatically went to the passenger's side and Katayeva to the driver's side. They drove to Queens to the shelter, listening toRavel as it played on the car's speakers from Katayeva's iPod.

The two detectives' ID and badges satisfied the shelter's director, Sister Mary Angela Carapelli.

"We need to know if the wife of Immanuel Rupenian was ever housed in this shelter during the time Sister Mary Agnes O'Toole was working here," said Katayeva.

Always reluctant to ever reveal any information about the battered women who sought refuge at her shelter, Sister Mary Angela hesitated. She knew about the death of Sister Mary Agnes. And if these detectives were asking, then there was a possibility of foul play.

"Detectives, I am extremely skeptical of any talk of suicide. Sister Mary Agnes had no reason to commit suicide. And I am sure you are well aware of the Church's teachings on the subject."

There was a knock at the door of the director's office. A young woman came in carrying a tray with a teapot, cups and saucers, milk and sugar, and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. She put the tray on the coffee table and then left the room.

Goren gave the director his shy smile. He moved onto the sofa and started pouring tea for the three of them. All the time heaping praise on the home-made cookies.

Oh, he is really good. He knows when and where to turn on the charm. Old nuns are not immune, either.

Sister Mary Angela accepted the cup of tea Goren proffered. She pulled out Mrs. Rupenian's file. Records indicated that Marta Rupenian had resided at the shelter for six weeks at the end of 2004. Her case worker had been Sister Mary Agnes O'Toole. Rupenian had divorced her husband, taken her two children and moved to Atlanta.

Both detectives thanked Sister Mary Angela for her assistance and left the shelter. On their way to the car Katayeva started laughing and just couldn't stop.

"What's so funny?" asked Goren, genuinely puzzled.

"You," snorted Katayeva, "I haven't seen a guy try to sweet talk a nun since I was in eighth grade at St. Thomas the Apostle. Tim O'Donnell was trying to talk his way out of a suspension for kissing a girl in the school library. Didn't work. But, you, Goren, are much better at it than he was."

"I …I was just being… polite."

"You were very polite, Goren, and we got the information we needed. On top of that, you could get an Oscar nomination for that performance," grinned Katayeva, "best actor in the charming-a-nun category."

"So…you really think I might be nominated?"

"Definitely."

"Cool."

At 4:40 pm Katayeva grabbed her gym bag and disappeared. Fifteen minutes later she reappeared at her desk, disguised as a runway model. Wearing one of those slinky little-black-dresses. The kind that showed every curve everywhere. At 5'10" she already had legs up to….well, you know where…add 2" sling-back heels (Goren was a sucker for sling backs on a woman.) and her legs just seemed to go on forever. The dress was sleeveless, showing well-defined arms. It wasn't low cut in the front. But, hello, the back certainly was! Goren suppressed a groan. Thank god she doesn't show up for work dressed like that every day. I'd barely remember my name.

"Uh, Kat…we're not doing any undercover… work at the opera tonight, are we?"

"Oh, no…I have a date with my husband. We're going out to dinner and then we have tickets for Jersey Boys."

"It isn't a date if you're going out with your husband," snickered Mike Logan. Hot looking women attracted Logan like bees to honey.

"Sure it is, Logan, when you're not dragging two kids out with you," grinned Katayeva.

"You remembered the rule about officers being armed whenever they are out in public?" asked Goren.

Before Katayeva could answer, Logan raked his eyes over her and smirked, "I just wanna know where you'll be carrying your weapon. That tiny purse will barely hold a pack of gum."

"Well," replied Katayeva, "there is always the leg holster…"

"Can I watch you put it on?" grinned Logan.

"Sure."

Logan's eyes nearly popped out of his head. Even Goren looked up from his paperwork, not wanting to miss this show.

Katayeva put on her shoulder holster and then the black jacket that matched her dress to conceal the weapon.

"Hey," yelled Logan, "No fair! You said you were using a leg holster."

"You didn't let me finish my sentence. I was about to say how much I don't like leg holsters. You guys oughta try wearing one of those damn things with a dress."

"If you have that little number," he nodded toward her dress, "in a 46 extra long, we could have Bobby boy here try it out with the leg holster."

Goren nearly spit out his coffee.

"Apparently Bobby boy here has never been a decoy in Vice," chuckled Katyeva, "Good night, guys. See you in the morning."

Logan and Goren just stared after her.

"God, can you imagine waking up with her in your bed every morning?" asked Logan.

Goren couldn't imagine it. Was a woman like Katayeva the bonus you received if you won the Nobel Peace Prize? What did a man have to do to have a woman like that love him?

Note: A sound clip of Ravel's Alborada del Gracioso may be heard on Amazon.