1, 2, 3,  4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 11,

The detective stood up and took the basin from the floor. “It is indeed, but let’s recap,” he said, pouring the blackish liquid into a gorgeous aspidistra.

“OK,” she replied.

He sat back down on the bale of hay and flipped back a few pages in his notebook.

“You said that the first time you noticed the abbess was missing was last Friday night.”

She nodded.

His phone rang. “Sorry, Sister, I have to take this.”

She looked up at the sky and yawned.

“Hey, Parker. Any news? ... I’m talking to one of the sisters. ... What do you need to check? ... OK, I’ve got her right here.”

“Sister,” he said, covering the phone, “my partner needs to check the abbess’s full name. He says there must be some kind of mistake.”

The nun folded her hands and put on the most serious expression she could. “Sure. Her name is Abby Rose Downton.”

“Get out of here! Abby Rose Downton? And what’s the detective’s name — Philip Marlowe?” the voice asked.

“I don’t see why not. I think it’s a funny coincidence...” Samuel replied.

“Are you serious? A funny coincidence is when a convent’s Wi-Fi password is ‘Amen123.’”

Samuel stopped to think for a few seconds. “Now that you mention it, I think I’ll use that in the story. You don’t mind, do you?”

“It’s your story. You do you...”