by Lynne Hinton
“Frequent guest here at the monastery?” the officer asked.
She shook her head as if to say she didn’t understand the question.
“He called you Sister and yet you’re not wearing your habit.” He paused and still she said nothing. “No robe, no veil. I didn’t know you’re a nun when I met you, so he must know you live here, right? And you do live here? Right? For now, I mean?”
Eve glanced over as the man drove past them out of the parking lot and toward the monastery’s main gate. “We met earlier in the week.” She hesitated. “And I have lived here for twenty years,” she answered, not giving anything away.
TWENTY-FIVE
Eve headed to the main office, wondering if she should have set the detective straight and explained that she was in the discernment process about being a nun. In fact, she was a little surprised that she hadn’t told him, hadn’t just made the announcement to him that she wasn’t sure she wanted to be in a religious community any longer. But she was still confused and she didn’t want to say that out loud, and she certainly didn’t want to say it to a stranger.
She gave the matter no more thought, knowing she had other things more pressing to handle. She wanted to check the room assignments to see who had reserved the room next to the victim, and she also hoped to find Daniel to let him know about her encounter with the two married professors from Texas. If there were ever two likely suspects, she thought, those two fit the mold for sure. She was sure that he would be interested in the conversations, and she also wanted to make sure that she asked him about the tox screen results. Perhaps, if she knew the exact nature of the poison used to kill Dr. Middlesworth, she would be able to find out if any such ingredients could be found elsewhere on the monastery property.
When she arrived through the front door, there didn’t appear to be anyone around, and she wondered if Brother Xavier, the monk assigned to greet visitors and help with accommodations for guests, had gone to the chapel to make preparations for midday prayer. As she glanced around to see if anyone else was nearby, the main phone began ringing. With no one else there, Eve did what she had done for years when she lived at the monastery: she walked around the desk to answer it.
“Our Lady of Guadalupe,” she said into the receiver.
“I’d like to speak to Father Oliver,” a faint voice from the other end responded.
Eve glanced down at the phone but immediately noticed that it was a different system from the one she was accustomed to using. Without knowing how to put the caller on hold, she responded, “I will try and find him for you.” She searched the desk for a pen and paper.
“May I tell him who is calling?” She started to write, but there was a click and the line was dead.
“Well, I guess I won’t,” she replied to no one.
The phone started to ring again, and Eve suddenly understood why the monk responsible for the front desk had left. She let the call roll over to voice mail and looked down both halls, wondering then where everyone had gone. In addition to the phone ringing off the hook, she also realized that once the conference had been canceled, there would be a lot of work that had to be done. With so many registered guests leaving, all of the rooms would have to be cleaned and financial adjustments would need to be made for those requesting reimbursements.
New arrangements would likely need to be made for media and law enforcement officers if they intended to stay on campus. With so many things up in the air, she assumed that somewhere on the premises the monks had likely gathered in a private meeting to go over tasks that would need to be delegated and concerns that would need to be addressed. She could only imagine what a nightmare this was going to be for the entire staff, and she was glad that she was here and in a position to help.
With no one around to stop her, Eve simply made herself at home, taking the chair behind the front desk and booting up the computer. She hoped the monks hadn’t made a change and that she still knew the correct password to unlock the screen and how to open the reservation program they used to assign guest rooms. She was reaching for the keyboard to start her search when she heard raised voices coming from down the hall. She tried to focus but eventually became too curious to stay where she was and got up from her seat, heading in the direction of where she had heard the noise.
Down the hall, she could see that there appeared to be five or six men gathered near the door of Father Oliver’s office. Their voices were loud enough so that even standing where she was, she could hear some of the conversation.
“We have the right to speak to him,” one of the men was saying.
Eve thought she heard Father Oliver make a response, but he was not talking as loudly as the visitors. Unable to hear him, she moved closer.
“He has something that does not belong to him,” another of the men remarked.
As Eve got a better view, none of those standing in the door appeared familiar to her. They varied in age and size, but she could see those with gray hair were standing near the abbot’s desk, and those with darker hair, the younger men it appeared, were gathered behind them. They were all dressed in jeans, long-sleeved shirts, and cowboy boots. She could see them only from behind, but it was clear that they were quite concerned about something.
“He stole from us. He came under the auspices of helping us restore the church and instead he took what wasn’t his.”
Eve could see around the men and noticed Father Oliver sitting behind his desk. His hands were clasped before him and he continued to speak, but she still couldn’t hear the reply.
There were more comments from the elder visitors, and as Eve tried to get a better look, she could see that a priest was in the center of the gathering, standing directly in front of Father Oliver, not a monk from the monastery, but a parish priest, a short man dressed in black, his hair pulled back into a tight braid. When she heard his voice, she recognized him as Father Jonas, the priest to some of the Pueblos in the area. She remembered having met him on several occasions when he came to Pecos on retreat. He was cheerful and personable, and she had always enjoyed his visits.
Father Jonas was born and raised in Mexico, attended seminary there, and had told her once that he had always intended to serve in his home country. Once he had been assigned to the Pueblos, however, he never wanted to leave New Mexico, never wanted to leave this ministry. She remembered how passionate he was about the Native American Catholics, how deeply he felt for the parishioners living on the reservations. He had served the people of the Sandia and the Isleta Pueblos for years, choosing to make his home with them instead of in Albuquerque with the other priests. He and Eve had spoken numerous times about his deep respect and love for the people in his care.
Eve tried to make out what he was saying, but he was speaking more softly than the others, so she crept even closer to hear.
“I did not know of it until this morning,” the priest said, the gentle accent still evident in his English. “We found the letter in the church. One of the deacons was changing the altar cloths and found it under the antependium.”
Eve knew he was speaking of the cloths on the altar, one of which was known as the frontal cloth. She guessed that someone was making changes for the upcoming season of Lent, changing the colors from the white of Epiphany to the purple intended to be used for the forty days prior to Easter. She strained to hear more.
The priest was apparently reading the letter and she couldn’t make out everything he was saying, but from what she could hear, it seemed pretty clear that the letter was written by Anthony, another letter of confession, another missal meant to explain his actions and his resolve to find and return the writings he had stolen.
“I have participated in a grave and sinful act, and I am prepared to suffer the consequences for this commission. I bear the guilt alone and recognize that I have brought great shame down upon my brothers and my father at Our Lady of Guadalupe. I
will seek the guidance of Sister Maria. I will make things right.”
She couldn’t make out the closing remarks, but she could see and hear Father Jonas as he folded up the letter. “Where is the young man?” he asked.
Eve understood from the conversation she was overhearing that Anthony had left the monastery sometime after his sister’s murder and made his way to Isleta to leave this letter for the priest to find. She leaned in, waiting to hear the abbot’s reply.
“What are you doing?”
The question whispered into her ear startled her so much that when Eve swung around, she landed a punch right in the man’s belly.
TWENTY-SIX
“Holy …” Daniel doubled over. “Why would you hit me so hard?”
“Why would you sneak up on me like that?”
She glanced behind her and saw that several of the men at Father Oliver’s door had turned and were staring in their direction. She started walking toward the front desk, pulling Daniel along by the front of his shirt. “Oh, for heaven’s sake … Man up! It didn’t hurt you that much.”
They rounded the corner.
He stood up with his hands on his hips. “You’re right. You punch like a girl.”
She flinched like she might hit him again, and he quickly reacted with the defensive move of crossing his arms in front of him.
She immediately laughed. “Some cop you are,” she said.
“And some nun you are,” he replied. “Okay, what’s going on back there?” He motioned to the area down the hall.
She took the seat behind the desk. “What makes you think I know what’s going on back there?”
Daniel gave her a look of disbelief. “Evangeline Divine,” was all he said, clearly not falling for her innocent act.
“Fine,” she replied. “Apparently it’s the elders from Isleta,” she said. “They’re not very happy with us here at the monastery.”
He waited.
“It appears as if Brother Anthony left them a letter too,” she explained. “The writings that Kelly Middlesworth had, they came from Isleta; that’s where Anthony found them, in the pueblo church. I guess they know they’re missing, which means they knew what they had, which means Anthony didn’t really discover them. They had already been discovered and were kept hidden.” She was starting to sort through this bit of new information herself.
Daniel stepped away to get a better look down the hall and then moved back. He nodded as if he understood. “Is he still at the pueblo?” he wanted to know. “He must have dropped off a letter there sometime after leaving last night.”
Eve shrugged as she tried turning on the main desk computer once again. “Or maybe before last night, who knows?” She hesitated. “It’s strange, don’t you think, that they wouldn’t have ever told anyone about the writings? Why would they keep Sister Maria’s writings secret and never even tell the church authorities?” She tried the old password as she continued talking to herself. “Of course, knowing what we do about the history with the Catholic Church and the Native Americans, I can’t say that I blame them.” She glanced up and Daniel was only watching.
“What?”
Daniel shook his head, apparently confused by Eve’s questions.
“I’m only asking, how long do you think the Isleta elders have known about these writings and never told anyone?” she asked. Suddenly the computer came to life. She clapped her hands together, happy to know the password hadn’t changed.
“I don’t know the answer to that. Is he at Isleta?” He was asking the question again.
“Who?”
“Anthony.”
“Oh no, I don’t think so, especially since they’re here searching for him. Somebody found the letter this morning and apparently got the elders together for this little Pecos meeting.”
Daniel eyed her closely. “So we still don’t know where Brother Anthony is,” he noted.
Eve shot him a look. “He’s not the suspect,” she said.
“He’s not the suspect,” Daniel repeated. “Yet,” he added.
“What does that mean?” Eve asked.
Daniel shook his head and leaned an elbow on the long narrow desk that separated them. “You know what that means,” he answered.
She waited.
“It means he needs to show back up here as soon as possible, or he’s going to be a suspect.”
Eve rolled her eyes. “He’s a monk,” she said to her friend. “He’s the victim’s brother. He loved her. He wouldn’t kill her.”
“We have a letter of confession,” Daniel replied. “We have lots of folks who saw them fighting at dinner.”
Eve didn’t respond.
“Some witnesses came forward,” he said, the announcement quickly gaining Eve’s attention.
He reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small notebook. He flipped it open to a page and started reading: “A witness reports she was sitting on the front porch of the main entrance about eight o’clock last evening when she saw a man dressed in a brown robe like the monks at the monastery wear. He walked out of the side entrance near the dining room and was carrying a tray and walking away from her. She watched as he headed down to the guest rooms. She’s pretty certain it was Brother Anthony.”
“That doesn’t mean anything. Maybe it was tea or maybe it was scraps for the squirrels.”
“She later saw the tray on the table at the victim’s door. There was a pot and a cup and saucer, a small pitcher.”
“That’s completely circumstantial. She’s only pretty certain,” Eve responded, using the same words as the witness. “That doesn’t mean it was Anthony. It could have been any of the monks. It could have been someone impersonating a monk.”
He continued reading his notes. “Another witness saw Anthony preparing tea and placing the pot on a tray while he was in the dining hall, the same kind of pot, the same kind of tray.”
“That still doesn’t prove anything,” Eve replied. “All of our pots are the same, as are all of our trays. Maybe he was fixing tea for himself.”
“Another witness saw a monk who looked a lot like Brother Anthony place a tray outside his sister’s door after the service of compline. This witness was going to his room at the other end, after having been to the parking lot, when he saw a monk walk around the corner and leave the tray.”
She held up her hands in protest. “Again, a monk who looked like Anthony? That’s no proof of guilt. And it is still circumstantial. Somebody else could have walked past the pot of tea later and put poison in it.” Eve was shaking her head. “It doesn’t prove he’s the murderer.”
Daniel closed the small pad of paper and stuck it back in his pocket. “I would very much like to believe you, but that seems way too convenient.”
“Not if the killer was watching. Not if he knew where Anthony was going.”
“We have a confession, a handwritten confession from the guy, and apparently he wrote another!” He motioned toward the group down the hall.
“He thinks he caused his sister’s murder. He thinks that because he gave her these stolen writings, he brought evil to her. That’s all he’s confessing to.” Eve leaned back in her chair, dropping her arms to her sides.
“And I believe you,” Daniel responded. “But it would help his case out a whole lot if he’d just show up and talk to us.”
Eve closed her eyes and blew out a breath. When she opened them, there was something on the screen in front of her, a name on the list of those attending the conference and staying in the guest rooms, that caught her eye.
TWENTY-SEVEN
There was the sound of a loud sneeze coming from around the corner, followed by a deep, booming voice calling out, “Is there a cat in this building? I thought I made it clear that there are to be no cats in our buildings.”
Instantly, Eve jumped up from her seat, catching Daniel by complete surprise, while snagging the electric cord with her foot and yanking it from the socket. In a matter of seconds, the computer whirred, as did the printer, a small fan, and the lights on the front desk. Everything around her powered off. Eve’s face was bright red, and while Daniel watched in seemingly utter amazement, she straightened to a soldier’s pose.
“I don’t know anything about a cat,” she protested, a bit too loud and a bit too quickly, she soon realized. She closed her eyes and shook her head as Daniel maintained the surprised look on his face, waiting for an explanation.
There was another loud sneeze, closer this time, and then came the greeting, “Well, this is a surprise,” and a stocky, barrel-chested man dressed in a black suit with a clerical collar made his way around Daniel all the way to where she stood. He held a handkerchief to his nose and blew loudly. “Sister Evangeline Divine.”
The visitor was older than the others standing near him but not as tall. He was balding on the top of his head with thin strands of red and white hair curling in the front and the back. His hands were small but beefy, and he wore a gold watch on his left wrist and a large gold band on his wedding finger. A jeweled pectoral cross fell out of his front jacket pocket as he sneezed yet again. His blue eyes were turning red and watery, and his pale skin was beginning to splotch.
“Divine,” she corrected him without looking him in the eye. “Divine,” she said again, softer this time. She felt herself standing at attention. She couldn’t help it; she always acted this way around the archbishop.
A young man in a long black cassock quickly came running up behind him. “I am so sorry, sir,” he said, shaking his head. “I did not know they allowed animals in the monastery.” He glanced around as if he might see the culprit. “I don’t see a cat.” He searched from one end of the room to the other. “Is there an animal in this building?” he asked Eve, who did not answer about the cat again.
