Sister Eve and the Blue Nun (18 page)

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.

“Never mind,” groused his supervisor.

“Do you want a Zyrtec?” the assistant asked the older man and started patting his pockets, apparently trying to find an allergy pill.

“Well, of course I want a Zyrtec if there's a cat on the premises.” The man blew his nose again noisily. He turned to Eve.

“Yes, yes, how could I forget? Evangeline Divine,” he said again, correctly this time. “Sister.” He bowed his head slightly.

She bowed in response.

“I'll get you a glass of water,” the young seminarian declared, suddenly exiting the group. “The dining room is this way, right?” And he hurried down the hall as Daniel pointed in the right direction.

“Poor boy, he does try.” The archbishop rolled his eyes when he noticed the pitcher of water sitting on a table beside the desk. He turned back to Eve and there was a pause. “Are you working here?” he asked, glancing around and not hiding the surprise in his voice.

She shook her head. “No, sir, I was just—”

“Hello,” he said, cutting her off and turning his attention to the man he had only just noticed standing beside him. He held out his hand to Daniel, and the detective took it, giving a firm grasp and then releasing it.

“I'm Archbishop Donnelly,” he added as an introduction, his Irish accent on show. He smiled. “Are you one of the professors here for the conference?” he asked and then continued without waiting for an answer. “I had hoped to be able to attend one of the lectures this weekend. I, too, am a fan of Sister Maria de Jesus de Agreda. I consider
Mystical City of God
a fine literary and theological document.” He leaned in a bit. “However, I must admit that I agree with those who say her Mariology is incompatible with Vatican II.”

Daniel didn't reply.

The archbishop turned over his handkerchief and wiped his brow. “Yet I still value lectures and conferences that allow theologians and religion scholars to bend the minds of priests and monks, keeping us up to date with the latest in our fields. Where do you teach, and do you read the sacred texts in Hebrew and Greek?”

Daniel looked first at Eve and then back to the archbishop. “I'm not a professor,” he said.

“Oh, a participant then? Here as a devotee of Sister Maria just to aid in your private prayers and devotions?”

Daniel shook his head.

“On private retreat with the monks here at the abbey?”

“I'm Detective Daniel Hively,” he responded.

The archbishop pulled back and waited for more.

“Here on police business,” Daniel obliged.

“Oh yes.” The archbishop drew out the words and placed his arms on top of each other in front of his chest. “The police business,” he repeated and then crossed himself and bowed. He shook his head. “It is too dreadful even to say.” He turned back to Eve. “I'm here to talk to Oliver about this.” He blew his nose again. “However, it appears that someone else has his attention at present.”

Eve nodded.

The archbishop seemed to be waiting for a response other than a nod.

Eve was confused.

“Who is that in his office?”

Eve thought. “Oh, it's Father Jonas and some of the men from Isleta, I believe,” she answered.

The man shook his head at the mention of the priest. “It's likely to be a long meeting, then, if Father Jonas has shown up. What is he doing here?”

Eve didn't answer. She was not about to tell the archbishop of the discovery at the pueblo church.

He waved off the question. “Never mind. Just go and tell Oliver I have arrived.”

“Yes, sir.” She started around the desk.

“Are the other nuns still in residence here?” He peeked behind the desk as if he thought a woman might be hiding.

Eve stopped and shook her head.

He glanced around once more and then sneezed again.

“Bless you,” Daniel said and then smiled.

“Thank you,” the archbishop responded.

Eve had started in the direction of Father Oliver's office when she suddenly stopped and turned back. “No, the others are all gone. They left after you . . .”

The archbishop quickly glanced in her direction.

Suddenly the young assistant hurried back into the room, interrupting. “Here's the water,” he announced, sounding out of breath. “And a Zyrtec.” He handed them both to his supervisor, who smiled and watched as Eve turned and headed down the hall.

TWENTY-EIGHT