Sister Eve and the Blue Nun (21 page)

She finished her drink, dismissing the memories, and tried to imagine where John Barr lived. She knew he had mentioned a cabin to some of the monks, but she wasn't sure if it was somewhere close to the highway or down one of the many forest roads,
out somewhere that might be hard to find. She also wondered how she was going to find the exact location, who would give her such information, and what the man would say when she drove up to his house.

There was also the question of whether Mr. Barr had actually given Anthony a ride out of the monastery the night of the murder. Eve was pretty sure it was his truck she saw exit the grounds, but she never saw Anthony in it. It was of course logical, she thought, that catching a ride with the man he had befriended was a perfect departure for the monk, but she was unclear of how the two of them found each other in the melee that was going on after the police had been called.

Had John Barr seen Anthony in his sister's room? Had he searched for him later and found him in the dining room? Had he approached Anthony after witnessing an action that Eve didn't want to believe happened? Did he see Anthony take the tea to his sister, and was he now hiding Anthony? Was Anthony really the killer after all?

She had so many questions, and she wasn't even sure that she would find John Barr or that he would answer them if she was given the chance to ask. He never had been what she might call a guy “easy” with conversation. He rarely spoke to the women, going out of his way not to have to interact with any of the nuns. He seemed interested only in arguing with Father Oliver as long as the abbot would allow.

She did know that Anthony never seemed to have the same experience as the others with the man from Tererro, that he dismissed the accusations of the community members who called him
delusional and mentally unstable. When questioned by the others, he always sided with the visitor, claiming that Mr. Barr simply disagreed with the changes in the church and desired to please God just like they all did.

“He's just a wounded soul,” Anthony had said once when one of the other monks questioned his compassion for the angry guest. “He served in Vietnam; he struggles with what he had to do as a soldier and how he was received when he returned. He feels as if the church spent more time loosening restrictions and turning its back on the orders of God than it did in offering help and comfort to the veterans of the war. In his mind,” the young monk continued, “everything fell apart in the 1960s—the country, the government, the youth, the church, especially his own life. He just has strong opinions, that's all.”

Eve remembered how the other monks refused to believe their brother, saying instead that the man needed mental help and that he posed a danger to those in community at the monastery. One of the nuns, Sister Jeanne, started calling him John the Baptist because they shared the same initials, JB, and because Barr seemed just as odd as the man who was known to have “prepared the way” for Christ. John the Baptist, the cousin of Jesus, was a man who lived in desert caves, ate honey and locusts, wore animal skins, and preached repentance. The name actually caught on for a while until Brother Anthony reprimanded them, asking them to stop.

However, even Father Oliver, who never denied John Barr's request for counsel, warned Anthony that the monastery visitor was not to be left alone or allowed entry to the rooms of the residents. Even though he never would give a concrete reason for his
caution, Father Oliver seemed to be of the same mind as the others, and he was concerned for the safety and well-being of the community members. He seemed to have additional information about Mr. Barr that troubled him, even though he refused to tell anyone else or ban the visitor from the monastery. As long as Eve lived there, John Barr made a trip to visit at least once a year, usually twice, always creating a kind of nervous tension for everyone there. Everyone, she thought, except for Brother Anthony, who never ceased to welcome the man with a kind heart and a generous spirit.

Eve recalled that she and the other nuns simply chose to stay away from the man. They greeted him, offered him food, and served him, but they all remained on edge when he was there. His visits were not frequent enough or disruptive enough to warrant discussing a specific policy regarding their hospitality toward him, but it was partly because of John Barr that the community devised a plan in case there was a dangerous episode on the grounds. Emergency numbers were listed and code words formulated for various crisis situations.

At the time, it was actually a surprise to Eve that the nuns and monks had decided to have these conversations, but she understood that just because they were a religious community didn't mean they were able to ward off all evil and pretend they didn't need to know how to react in case of uninvited trouble. They agreed to leave the doors unlocked and continue to minister with the gift of hospitality, but they also decided that they would come up with a plan for what to do if violence entered their gates.

Eve checked the truck doors once again, making sure they were locked, and then leaned back against the seat and closed her
eyes. She intended to rest for just a few minutes, to nap just for an hour or so, just take a break before the sun rose and she figured out a way to locate John Barr. She had noticed driving in that there was a café and a post office in Tererro. She hoped that someone in one of the two places might give her the information she needed to find the cabin of the man who might be able to tell her the whereabouts of Anthony.

THIRTY-TWO

It was the horn blowing that finally woke her up. The sun was high in the southwestern sky, and when she looked at her watch, Eve couldn't believe her eyes. She had slept for more than five hours. It was after nine in the morning, and the horn blowing behind her, the one that woke her up, came from a garbage truck there to empty the Dumpster right where she had parked. She hadn't even really noticed it when she pulled in earlier and stopped.

She waved at the driver, signaling her apologies, and started the engine of her truck. She backed out and then drove to the entrance to the wildlife area lot. She paused for a moment to check her bearings and try to figure out where she might go to find the street address of John Barr, who she might ask where the man lived. Eve had lived in New Mexico all of her life, and she knew that residents of the more rural areas of the state known as the Land of Enchantment were often suspicious of strangers and tended to be very tight-lipped about giving out information about neighbors
and fellow citizens. She needed a strategy to ask the locals where to find Barr's cabin.

She noticed a full parking lot at the café and a few people coming and going from the post office. With a stack of Barr's letters showing a return address of a PO box, Eve decided that the mail station might be the best place to start. She pulled onto the main road, making a quick left into the parking lot shared by the Tererro Café and the United States Post Office. She parked the truck in a space, took in a deep breath, turned off the engine, and opened the door. She hoped she could charm the mailperson into giving her directions.

A man was coming out as Eve headed up to the door; he waited, holding it open, and greeted her with a “Good morning.” She smiled, returned the greeting, and walked in.

The boxes, all with small keyholes, were to her right, and the front desk, the area with an employee standing behind the counter, was to her left. She could see the woman working there had watched her come in, so Eve decided to go immediately to her and just ask for the information.

“Good morning,” she said as she made her way to the counter. She noticed the woman was wearing a name tag. She was Rosemary B. There was no last name, and Eve wondered if there was a maximum number of letters allowed for post office employees and Rosemary had used all of hers up with her first name.

“Hello,” the clerk replied. “How can I help you?”

Eve cleared her throat. “I have a friend.” She smiled.

Rosemary made no response.

Eve pulled out the folder with the stack of letters written by John Barr and addressed to Father Oliver at the monastery. “His
name is John and he lives here.” She opened the folder so that Rosemary could see the accumulated mail, hoping that granted her some element of trustworthiness.

The post office worker glanced first at the letters and then back to Eve. She gave away nothing with the look on her face.

Eve closed the folder. “Anyway, I was driving around here and I thought I might drop in on John, you know, surprise him.”

Still nothing from Rosemary. Someone was entering from the rear of the building. Eve assumed it was one of the carriers coming in for the mail to deliver.

“I'm a nun,” Eve said, not at all sure why she thought that might help.

Rosemary nodded. “You camping in your truck?” she asked, obviously having seen her in the parking lot near the office.

She shook her head, glancing behind her at the cars in the lot. “No, just driving through.” She turned back to face her. “Anyway, I thought it would be nice to drop in on John.”

“Right, you said that,” Rosemary replied. She was suddenly sounding bored.

“Well, you see, all I have is his post office box number.” And she opened the folder once again and pointed to the return address.

Rosemary didn't look away from her, didn't follow her pointing finger.

Eve smiled again. “So, I was thinking maybe you might tell me how to find John, give me directions to where he lives, a street name or something.”

There was a pause.

“You try to call him?”

Eve hadn't anticipated the suggestion. She shook her head, the smile still plastered on her face. “I don't actually have a phone,” she said, lying.

“There's one over at the café,” Rosemary noted.

Eve turned around once more and looked toward the restaurant only a few feet away from where she stood. She turned back around. “Actually, I'd rather drop by his place,” she said. “So I just thought if you could give me directions to where he lives . . .”

A man came around the corner. “Hey, Rosemary,” he called out. He had a large canvas bag thrown over his shoulder. “Oh, sorry,” he added when he noticed Eve was standing there. “Didn't know you had a customer.”

Eve nodded in his direction and glanced back at Rosemary. She was still waiting for the woman's answer. She remained hopeful that the direct request might still work and that the post office worker would give over directions to Barr's residence.

“We're not really allowed to give out home addresses of our customers.”

There was a pause.

“Oh, sure, I understand,” Eve replied, trying to sound easygoing and not at all bothered by the post office rules. “It's just . . .” She suddenly noticed that the man behind Rosemary was now watching her. She stopped in midsentence and leaned in so that she was closer to the woman behind the counter. She lowered her voice. “It's just that I wanted to pop over and surprise him, and I don't know where he lives.”

“I could call him and just verify that he knows you, that it's okay if I give you the information.”

Rosemary had her there, she thought. And this was a terrible idea. He would know someone was looking for him, and if Anthony was with him, he'd tell the young man that they had found him. And then there was no telling where they might run. Eve tried to think.

“But that would ruin the surprise, wouldn't it?” She made a face, tried to appear disappointed.

Rosemary shrugged. “That's the best I can do.”

“Who's she trying to find?” The man behind Rosemary asked the question, and Eve's hopes were raised. Maybe he'd tell her the address.

“John Barr,” Rosemary replied. “She has a stack of letters he wrote, says she's his friend, wants to see him.” She turned to face her colleague. “She's a nun.”

The man laughed. “Then she ain't no friend of his.” He put down the large canvas bag and opened it. He pulled out a stack of letters. It appeared as if his job was to sort them.

Rosemary turned back to Eve and shrugged again. “It's a policy. We can't give out personal information.”

Eve brought up a hand and pinched the bridge of her nose. This was clearly not working. “Okay, I'll go over to the café, give John a call, and get the address from him.”

Rosemary responded with a kind of humming noise, a sort of “uh-huh,” as if she didn't believe Eve.

“You all have a good day,” she said and turned to walk out of the office.

THIRTY-THREE