by Lynne Hinton
He opened the door. “When I’m gone, you should probably go around the back of the guest quarters and by the offices and then go to my room from that side. Anthony will still be there.”
Eve watched as the abbot made his departure. She didn’t quite understand everything Father Oliver seemed to be saying to her, but she knew that she had only a few seconds if she intended to search for the pages or for any other clues that might be in the room. The time was very limited before she would need to make an exit without being seen by the approaching officers.
The door closed behind him, and Eve hurried over to the desk and began rifling through everything that was there. She flipped through the books, opened the binder, and picked up every page and notebook still on the desk, understanding that she was leaving prints on everything but deciding that she would have to worry about that later.
She pored over the entire desk. There seemed to be nothing that resembled what must have been the pages written by Sister Maria, nothing that appeared old or brittle, no pages tucked inside a folder pocket or envelope, just the books and the professor’s papers. “Who did this to you? Who took the writings?” she asked, still searching.
She was just about to leave when she glanced down once again at the dead body and suddenly noticed the victim’s hand, the one held to her heart. Eve walked closer and bent down.
Kelly’s hand was slightly clenched, and Eve could see that something was being held in it. She leaned in closer, and when she studied the curled fingers, she could see that the victim had grasped at something, torn something that had been close to her, something belonging to the killer, perhaps.
Eve turned Kelly’s hand over, and when she did a small fragment of blue fabric fell out, its edges frayed and clearly ripped from a larger piece of cloth.
Without time to consider the consequences, Eve grabbed the scrap of material, made the sign of the cross over the victim once more, stood up, and moved toward the door. She opened it carefully, stuck out her head, and looked to the left, in the direction of the front entrance of the monastery.
There were two black-and-whites already there, and she could hear more sirens coming. She watched as a couple of officers got out, and she could see Father Oliver standing at the top of the steps. She headed out of the room, turned, and quietly closed the door. She stuffed the stolen piece of blue material in her pocket and dashed in the opposite direction without ever noticing the curtain as it fell back into place in the room next door.
NINE
Eve ran behind the long building only recently dedicated to guesthousing, past the small parking lot at the end, which was filled with cars, and down behind the administrative offices, the wing of rooms that used to house her and the other sisters, to the back door of the main facility near the chapel. She pulled on the handle, opening it, and slipped inside. The hallway was dark and quiet, lit only by the Exit signs near the doors at both ends. She knew that to get to Father Oliver’s room on the south wing she needed to walk through the main entrance, where the main door and large windows opened onto the parking area out front.
There was a clicking sound, the hot water heater still working after late-night showers, she presumed, something she became used to when she lived at the monastery, often walking the halls late at night. She heard the scratching sounds of pigeons nesting in the eaves of the old building and the ticking of the grandfather clock, a gift from a benefactor that had been placed across the hall from where she stood. These were all the sounds she recognized and remembered from the long nights when she couldn’t sleep, leaving her room at the north end of the monastery where the nuns had lived for years, sitting in the chapel for hours or working in the kitchen, preparing for the morning meal.
She closed her eyes, steeling herself to walk toward the front entrance, hoping Father Oliver and the officers had already gone from where the abbot had met them upon their arrival.
She moved past the chapel doors, stopping only a minute to peek through the narrow windows, making sure Anthony hadn’t returned there after speaking to the vice superior. The only light was the large candle still burning inside the red cylinder next to the altar, but it was enough for her to see that the pews were empty and that no one was inside. She thought of the young monk, how distressed he was when she first saw him in there no more than an hour before. She hoped Father Oliver had calmed him, something she had been unable to do, and that he was at peace in the abbot’s room, waiting for guidance and instruction. She could only hope that he hadn’t heard the sirens and made some unwise decision to meet the officials outside and make the same confession he had made to her.
Eve headed in the direction of the main entrance, observing no overheard lights turned on and hearing no conversation between the abbot and the police or between Brother Anthony and the officers. Thinking that the coast was clear, she peeked around the corner, saw three police cars parked in front and an ambulance, its red lights still glowing, backing away. From where she stood she could make out several voices, but it appeared as if no one had come inside; rather, the conversation, the voices, seemed to be moving farther away.
She breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that Father Oliver was doing exactly what he said he would do, meeting them at the front and then leading them in the direction of the guest quarters and to the room of Kelly Middlesworth. Following his direction, Eve headed to the other side of the monastery.
She had gotten past the entryway and made the turn to the south end, the long hall of rooms where the monks resided, when she heard footsteps and the swishing sound of a long robe, a noise she probably knew better than any. One of the monks must be up, she thought, understanding that the sirens and the lights most certainly had awakened everyone sleeping in the monastery proper as well as in the guest quarters. She glanced down the darkened hallway but didn’t see anyone. She paused, expecting a monk to be following her, heading in her direction, but when she turned back around, the footsteps had stopped and there appeared to be no one else there.
She hurried in the direction of Father Oliver’s room at the end of the wing and was standing right in front of the vice superior’s room, her hand on the knob, when the door next to his suddenly opened.
“Sister Evangeline?” It was the sleepy voice of Brother Matthew, one of the older monks, one of the men who had lived in the monastery for more than four decades. “Sister Evangeline, is that you?”
She drew in a breath, pulling her hand away from the abbot’s door, and turned in his direction. “Brother Matthew,” she answered him, smoothing out her voice. “I am sorry if I woke you.”
He stepped out into the darkened hall, glancing in both directions. He was wearing a heavy brown bathrobe held together by both hands. His hair, hanging in long white locks, was messy and uncombed. “I thought I heard sirens. Are there police officers on our grounds?” he asked.
Eve smiled. “They are certainly loud, aren’t they? It’s being handled, Brother Matthew. I hope you’ll be able to go back to sleep.”
“Has something happened? Have you come to wake Father Oliver?”
Eve hesitated. “Father Oliver has gone to greet the officers; I have come to get something for him.”
The old monk narrowed his eyes at Eve, the fake smile still plastered on her face. She stuck her hands in her pockets.
“There was someone in his room,” he said. “I heard weeping. I was awakened by the sounds of a man crying, not by the arrival of first responders.”
She didn’t reply, waiting for more.
“I have been praying since I first heard him.”
More sirens were heard in the distance.
“But I didn’t come out. I didn’t come next door because I am sure Father Oliver gave prudent counsel. The young man came to the right place if he seeks guidance.”
Eve lowered her eyes.
“Brother Anthony,” he said, suddenly g
etting the attention of Sister Evangeline. “It’s our young brother Anthony. I heard him weep, and I recognized his voice when he made a grave confession. And I heard Father Oliver offer him absolution for his sins.”
Eve didn’t know what to say. Does Brother Matthew also know of the murder of the young professor? Is there now someone else involved? How many of the others living on this wing heard the same thing? She glanced down the hall, waiting for other doors to open, other men to join the conversation. But there was nothing.
“He left just before the police arrived,” Brother Matthew explained. “Only a few minutes ago.”
And without a reply, Eve quickly turned and opened the door to Father Oliver’s room. The older monk was right. There was no one inside. She stepped in. The bed was unmade and the closet door stood open. The bathroom light was on, and Eve could see that the small room adjoining the one in which she stood was also empty. A lamp revealed a piece of paper positioned on top of the small wooden desk. She walked over to see what it was and immediately discovered that it was something signed by Anthony, a letter, perhaps, but she wasn’t sure and didn’t take the time to read it right then. Instead, she kept the piece of paper in her hand and headed out of the room to ask the older monk what else he knew about the night visitor to Father Oliver.
Out in the hallway she saw Brother Matthew’s door was closed, and beneath the door she could see that the light in his room had suddenly been extinguished. Surprised that he hadn’t waited for her, surprised that he had apparently gone back to bed, she walked over, planning to knock, wanting to talk more and needing to ask the old monk questions about Anthony. Just as she leaned in and started to knock, however, she heard the voices moving in her direction.
TEN
Quickly, Eve stepped back and glanced around. She thought if she hurried, she could make it to the exit only a few feet away from Father Oliver’s door, but just as she started to head in that direction, she realized that she was too late. From behind her a light came on.
“Excuse me, are you looking for someone?” the voice called out.
Eve froze for a second, and then, realizing there was no way out of this, she turned around as two men came toward her, a light in the next hall creating shadows as they moved. She tried to sound cheerful. “I heard all the racket, the sirens and everything. I wanted to see if Father Oliver knew what was going on.” She dropped her hand behind her back, trying to fold up the letter and stick it in her pocket. “But he’s not answering. I guess that means he’s somewhere else on the grounds.”
There was a pause as the two men before her seemed to be studying her. “Don’t I know you?” one of them asked, the older of the two.
Eve didn’t reply. She squinted, trying to see who was talking to her.
“I’ve seen you before,” he added, switching on his flashlight and shining the light in Eve’s face.
Eve covered her eyes and figured she’d been recognized from one of the many activities she attended with her father, but she waited for him to figure it out for himself.
“You’re Jackson’s girl, the oldest, the nun.” He waited. “You live up here?”
Eve gave her best smile. The bright light had been lowered, turned off, but the bursts of color were still blurring her vision, and it was still hard to make out the identities of the men in front of her. She wasn’t sure that she knew either of them, but she thought it was good that one of them knew the Captain. With the letter folded and shoved into her back pocket, she walked closer and stuck out her hand.
“Evangeline,” she responded. “Evangeline Divine. And yes, I still belong to the Benedictine Order here,” she added, deciding not to reveal everything about her situation.
The older officer took her hand. “You came home to take care of Jackson last year,” he commented. He was about sixty, with graying hair and a bulging midsection, and he was chewing on a toothpick.
She nodded, squinting up at the nameplate pinned to his shirt underneath his jacket. “Jared Bootskievely,” it read. She smiled, feeling somewhat at ease.
“Detective Boots,” she said, recalling her father’s colleague and friend. It had been awhile since she had seen him, but she certainly remembered the nickname.
He grinned and leaned back on his heels. “Evangeline, the nun,” he said. “And your sister …” He pushed the toothpick from side to side and seemed to be thinking.
“Dorisanne,” she replied, filling in the blank.
“Dorisanne, right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “The Vegas dancer.”
Eve nodded.
“You two were quite a pair.” He thrust the flashlight back into its holder on his belt and rested his hands on his hips, nodding.
Eve shrugged, unsure of what to say. She cleared her throat nervously.
“Man, I was so sorry to hear about Jackson,” he continued. “But I understand from Hively he’s doing okay now, one-legged and all.”
He turned to the officer at his side. “Captain Jackson Divine, spelled like divine, served on the force for more than thirty years, runs a PD agency up in Madrid. Good guy,” he explained. “Used to be paired up with Daniel Hively. You know him, right?”
The other man nodded.
“Yeah, good ol’ Captain Jack. But whatever you do, if you meet him, don’t get that last name wrong. Don’t call him Captain Divine,” he added, mispronouncing the last name. “He hates that.”
The younger officer turned and looked again at Eve. “Detective Earl Lujan,” he said, introducing himself.
“He’s new,” Officer Bootskievely noted, pointing his thumb at his partner. “Just transferred down from Taos.”
Eve turned to the other man, suddenly feeling a strange flutter in her stomach. With only the distant light, she couldn’t see much, but he appeared to be about her age, dark-skinned, probably from the pueblo, Eve assumed, recognizing the last name as a familiar one in Taos. She nodded and held out her hand to him, and he shook it. “Evangeline Divine,” she said, unable to pull her eyes away from the man standing before her.
There was an awkward pause.
The older officer cleared his throat. “So, anyway, one of the monks pointed us in this direction to find your guy. Oliver, same one I guess you were hoping to see.” Officer Bootskievely stepped toward the vice superior’s door. He leaned in. “He didn’t answer?” He turned back to Eve, who immediately realized that she was still gazing at the other officer.
“Um, no.” She quickly looked away, feeling slightly flushed but trying to shake it off. “He’s not there,” she added, not giving away any clue that she knew exactly where Father Oliver was.
“Yeah, we’re the last ones up here. I guess some deputies got the call first, over at the county office. Sent an ambulance and another set of paramedics. Then somebody got smart and called us in Santa Fe.” He winked at Eve and elbowed his partner.
Eve nodded again. She was starting to feel like one of those bobblehead dolls Dorisanne used to collect.
Detective Boots studied her. “You don’t know anything about where the other officers and the man in charge might be, do you?”
Eve reached up and fingered the cross necklace she was wearing. “Um … I came from the chapel,” she explained. “I went there earlier to pray, and as far as I know there was no one else in there, and I didn’t see anyone else down the other hall.” At least, she told herself, it isn’t really a lie.
“What’s down the other hall?” the seasoned detective wanted to know.
“Offices,” she answered, deciding not to explain about the recent changes from residential quarters to administrative offices, with the nuns forced out. “And the dining hall is on the other side of the main entrance. I don’t know if you saw anything down there when you came in.”
He shook his head. “No, it was dark and quiet. Only saw the one monk, you
ng guy, tall, blue eyes. He said he had been awake awhile and was watching everything out the window.”
The description he gave sounded to Eve a lot like Brother Anthony, and she wondered what he was doing in the dining hall and where else he had gone. She thought about the time and guessed that it had been more than an hour since she had last seen the monk.
“He was the one who told us the head honcho lives down here.”
Eve nodded again and then stopped herself from speaking for a moment. “Yes, that is true,” she finally responded, trying to figure out a way to leave the conversation and find Anthony. “Father Oliver is the vice superior of the abbey, and this is indeed his room.”
“Which he’s not in?” Boots asked.
“Right, which he’s not in,” Eve replied.
“So, besides this main building, chapel, offices, dining hall, and residence wing, what other buildings are on the property?” Detective Bootskievely wanted to know.
And finally here was the out she was looking for. “The guest quarters,” she answered. “If you just go out the main entrance like you came in and head left, you can’t miss them. I’m sure everyone must be down there.”
“Uh-huh. Guess you’re right,” the man responded. The toothpick moved to the other side of his mouth and he reached up and took it out. “You tell your daddy Boots said hey. Maybe I’ll come over to Madrid sometime and take him out to lunch.”
“I’m sure he would love that,” Eve responded.
She felt the officer studying her.
“You don’t want to go down there with us? You don’t want to know what’s going on?” Boots asked.
She turned away and shook her head. “I don’t want to get in anybody’s way,” she said, trying to smile.
“Good nun response, I guess,” he replied.
“I guess,” she answered, nodding again.
“All right, good to see you, Sister.” And the older officer turned to walk away.