Sister Eve and the Blue Nun (15 page)

“That's true,” he said. “But if a person says they're going somewhere to pray and suddenly finds themselves someplace they shouldn't be—
like a crime scene
. . .,” he emphasized, those four words spoken a bit louder, causing a few people around him to turn in his direction. He smiled at them and then turned back to Eve, his tone a bit softer. “Then that person might later wish that they had gone to church.”

Eve waved to her friend without turning around to acknowledge his warning, expecting him to be at her heels.

“Stay out of the way, Sister,” he called out.

She dropped her hand, and when she didn't hear him following, she hurried beyond the front door and down the path to the row of guest rooms.

The yellow tape was still wrapped around the first room, one end tied around the doorknob and then wrapped about two poles outside the room, with the other end tied onto one of the chairs that was sitting outside the door next to the small table. Eve could hear voices from inside the room but didn't recognize any, so she didn't stop.

As she passed the second room, she noticed that the door was partly open and she decided to peek in to see who had been staying next door to the victim. She quietly knocked on the door, opening it wider as she did so, allowing her to get a better look inside.

It seemed uninhabited. The bed was made; there was nothing on the desk. The curtains on the window were closed. No clothes, bags, or shoes anywhere. She wondered if the monk in charge of
cleaning had already done his work that morning or if no one had been registered in the room next to Kelly's.

She snuck in and sat on the bed. She wondered if the guest in that room had heard anything and assumed that an interview with the person next door to the victim would have been one of the first interviews the police conducted. It was clear that someone in this room had the best vantage point for hearing or seeing anything suspicious. A thought came to her:
Kelly had to have known the killer. Otherwise, somebody would have heard a scuffle, a scream, something. Kelly let her killer in either because she knew that person or because the person gained her trust and she invited them in. Or with the unlocked door, the murderer just came in after Kelly had taken the poison.

She stood up, even more resolved to talk to the professors who knew as much about the Blue Nun as the victim did. She walked out and moved past the other rooms, wishing she had gotten the list of assignments from the office at the main building so she could see which guest was in which room, and find out if the two colleagues had made a last-minute room reservation when it was decided they would attend the conference. She knew having that list would have made it a lot easier to find them and subsequently introduce herself to them, allowing her the opportunity to see what they knew about the murder and the discovery of Sister Maria's writings.

Eve knew she had not heard Kelly mention any colleagues from Texas that she expected to come to the event. And Eve recalled that the detectives in charge of the investigation had mentioned that Dr. Pierce had arrived at Kelly's room the night of the murder saying that he had only just gotten to the monastery.

Eve walked around the corner of the guest quarters and began
looking over the cars parked in front of the rooms and in the spaces in the small lot nearby. Most of them appeared to be from New Mexico, with the bright yellow license plates bearing the red Zia sun emblem that was also on the state flag, the state capitol, and highway markers. There were these as well as a few of the new turquoise plates, with the state name and USA clearly displayed.

Eve knew that this information had been added to both styles of license plates in the last fifteen years or so, since more than a few New Mexicans had been stopped while driving in other states and hassled to show an international driver's license because it was thought that they were visiting from another country, Mexico. Eve recalled her recent trip to Vegas with Daniel and explaining to a store clerk that she was from New Mexico after being asked if people spoke English there.

“
No tanto
,” she had finally answered, “not so much.” And the clerk asking simply nodded and smiled, making the final comment that Eve should be careful if she was living out of the States, that it was not always safe to be in those “foreign places.” She and Daniel had a good laugh about that.

In the lot there was a van from California belonging to a group of students and professors she knew who had come from the Jesuit college in Santa Clara, and one from a seminary in Denver. She'd met people from both institutions, and they had enjoyed several meals together. There was also an old white truck just like the one she had seen the night before leaving the grounds. She wondered if the person had left after the commotion and then returned the next morning, and she made a mental note to try to find out who the truck belonged to. She continued searching and finally noticed,
between the monastery station wagon and an SUV with Arizona tags, an old green Subaru with Texas plates. It was the only one she saw from the Longhorn State.

Eve walked over to the car, quickly finding on the back window a University of Texas sticker that marked the vehicle as one driven by faculty. The car was dusty, not uncommon for the vehicles in New Mexico, and there was orange mud on all four tires. She moved a little closer, glanced around, and seeing no one, cupped her hand on the driver's-side window and peeked inside. There was a stack of papers on the passenger's seat. She couldn't exactly see what they were, but they appeared to be something from students. She could make out red marks and a number in the right-hand corner of one. Paper cups and empty bags from fast-food places lay on the floorboard, and a gym bag and a pair of sneakers were on the backseat. She could see a few tennis balls on the floor and a couple of other stacks of papers under the canvas bag.

“Is there something I can help you with?” the voice from behind her asked.

Eve, startled by the question, whipped around and stood face-to-face with a tall woman, her long dark hair smoothed back into a ponytail, her hands held at her sides, and a piercing stare clearly focused on the woman peering into the windows of a car that didn't belong to her.

TWENTY-TWO

“You must be Dr. Taylor,” Eve said, trying to sound as normal as she could and recognizing the professor from the pictures she had seen in her Internet search.

“I must be,” came the chilly response.

Eve held out her hand. “I'm Sister Evangeline,” she noted with her best smile. “I used to be in the community here,” she added.

“Used to be?” the other woman replied, not taking the extended hand. She waited, giving the impression that she wanted to hear more.

“It's now a monastery for the Benedictine monks,” Eve answered, dropping her hand. “The nuns . . . we have all found new places to live and serve.”

“Was there some scandal?” Dr. Taylor grinned, raising her eyebrows, appearing to enjoy the idea.

“Only in the fact that we never had a say in the matter.”

“Well, you are a nun, right?” the professor asked, shrugging.

“That's true,” Eve answered. “And we do take our promise to submit ourselves to the authority of the church quite seriously.”

“Even when they kick you out of your home?” She watched Eve closely.

“Even when they ask us to move,” Eve answered carefully. “Yes.”

The professor didn't respond. Finally, she shook her head. “Well, that's the life you chose,” she said.

Eve nodded, deciding not to explain where she was in her discernment process or to discuss her disappointment and anger about the situation at the abbey.

“So, in spite of your vowed submission, what are you doing here? Looking to steal a car and make your getaway?”

Eve felt her face flush, knowing her hand was clearly in the cookie jar. “I was just admiring the Subaru,” she said cheerfully. “My father needs a new car, and I was thinking this might be a good choice. Is this the '05 model?” She faced the car, sliding her hand across the front, feigning interest in the small wagon. “Four cylinders?”

“I'm afraid I don't know anything about cylinders,” the woman answered. “They teach you that in nun school?”

“No, not in
nun school
,” she said. “As a girl I spent a lot of time with my dad hanging out in the garage,” Eve added. She glanced away from the car and back to the guest from Texas. “Are you here for the conference? Friends with the keynote speaker?” she asked.

The professor studied the woman standing before her. “I got here yesterday,” she answered. “Yes, I know Dr. Middlesworth; we work together at the university.”

Eve nodded.

“How did you know who I was?”

Eve recalled that she had acknowledged the Texan by name when she was startled by her earlier. More backpedaling, she knew. “Kelly showed me a picture.”

Dr. Taylor seemed disbelieving. “Kelly Middlesworth had a photograph of me?”

Eve shook her head. “No, not a photograph, just online, some research she showed me, recent articles about the Lady in Blue. I read some of your work, and I recalled something you had written with Dr. Pierce, I believe, another colleague.”

“Not just another colleague,” came the response.

Eve waited. “Pardon?” she asked.

“Not just another colleague,” the professor repeated. “He's my husband.”

“Oh, I see,” she said. “I didn't realize that,” she quickly added.

“That's because it's not true,” came a reply from behind Eve.

She turned around to see a man walking up to them. He was of a medium build and height, wore his brown hair long, and had piercing blue eyes. She instantly recognized this professor as well. Here was the man she had been searching for.

“Good morning, Lauren,” he said, staring across the car at the other professor.

She did not respond.

“I hadn't heard that you were here,” he noted.

Eve watched the two of them. The tension between them was palpable.

“I was here last night.” She paused. “And you?”

Eve saw a smile form on his lips. “I arrived last night as well.”

There was an awkward pause.

Eve cleared her throat. “I'm Sister Evangeline Divine,” she said, making her introduction. “I used to be in community here at Pecos,” she added, extending her hand again and then dropping it when she realized he was not watching her and was instead staring at the other woman.

The man looked away and extended his hand to Eve. “I'm Peter Pierce,” he said, returning the greeting. “Dr. Middlesworth called me yesterday and asked me to join her here for her speech.” Tears filled his eyes. “I got here too late.” He took out a handkerchief and wiped his eyes. “She was gone before I arrived.”

“Murdered, you mean,” Dr. Taylor noted.

Dr. Pierce and Eve turned to her.

“She wasn't gone; she was murdered,” Dr. Taylor clarified. She crossed her arms across her chest and narrowed her eyes in his direction. “I hate it when you don't state the truth, when you try to make something sound like it's not as dirty as it really is.”

She paused and then faced Dr. Pierce.

“She was murdered. Your girlfriend was murdered. And you don't need to put on a show for the two of us. We're not investigators.”

“This is not a . . .” He stopped.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” he asked, leaving the last response unfinished.

Eve waited for the answer. This was a question she had wanted to ask as well.

“I know about the writings,” Lauren Taylor said, watching the man closely. “I know about Sister Maria's secret writings,” she repeated.

He snapped around to face her.

“Yes, that's right. I know all about them,” she noted. “You should be more careful in picking your assistants.”

Dr. Pierce shook his head. His face had reddened.

The woman smiled.

“Did you think she was going to give them to you?” he asked.

“No, I didn't think that,” she replied. “But I did think that after I told her a few things about you and your promises to her, she certainly wouldn't give them to you either.” Dr. Taylor raised her eyebrows and shrugged. “Never underestimate the power of a scorned woman,” she said smugly. “And never listen to the promises of a desperate man.”

Eve watched the two, her gaze moving back and forth between them as if she were watching a tennis match. The dialogue went from one to the other, insult to accusation back to more insults. She was learning a whole lot about their relationship and a whole lot more about motives for murder.

“You were not scorned or victimized by my relationship,” the man responded. “We both knew this marriage was doomed years ago, long before I started seeing Kelly, so don't start playing the role of the betrayed wife now. It's way too late for that.”