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“My God, that was the best enchilada I’ve ever had in my life. And the chilies rellenos?” She cast her eyes upward, as if giving thanks. “Why is this place on the other side of the world from my apartment? On the other hand, I’d gain five pounds just sniffing the air in there.”
“Now you can walk it off. Take the subway and go home. I’m going to tug at those other angles, and I’m not driving back down to the other side of the world. I’ll work at home.”
“Mag. I can probably get home from here only about an hour past end of shift. I’m practically early. Dallas, will you really leak that stuff if we don’t get the dental by noon?”
“Do
n’t make threats unless you intend to follow through. Start running the names of known attendants from this morning. Take the first twenty-five. That ought to keep you busy on the ride home.”
For herself, Eve drove back to the church. People walked in and out of the bodega—seemed to slink in and out of the pawnshop. Groups of young toughs hung out in doorways, on the sidewalk.
She walked to the church door, broke the seal, used her master.
She walked down the center aisle, and had to admit it was just a little weird hearing her own footsteps echo while she strode to the altar and the suffering Jesus over it. At the anteroom door, she broke the second seal, unlocked it.
Came in just like this, she imagined. Maybe through the back or the side, but just as easily. Bottle of cyanide in a pocket or a purse.
Had the keys, that’s what I think. Had the keys to the box. Just had to slip into the rectory, take them, walk over, walk in. Unlock the box, take out the little decanter. Sealed or gloved hands. Pour in the cyanide, replace, relock, walk out. Return keys to the rectory.
Five minutes, tops. Ten maybe if you wanted to gloat.
Did you attend the morning Mass? Maybe, maybe, but why stand out? Why stand out in so small a group when later you’d be covered by a crowd?
You know what time the service starts every day, what time it usually ends. You just have to wait for the priests to leave the rectory, go in, take the keys. You could step into the vestibule, listen outside the door if you wanted. Wait until they leave, do the job, go wait—stay close. Priests return, Rosa comes over to the church to help her family. Keys go back to the rectory, you circle around, join the mourners.
You had to watch it happen. You’d need to watch him go down.
Because it’s revenge. Public poisoning. Execution. That’s vengeance. That’s punishment.
For what?
She stepped back out, replaced the seal, locked the door.
Then looked up at the cross. “Didn’t worry about you, or didn’t care. Hell, maybe he thought you were on the same team. Eye for an eye? Isn’t that one of yours?”
“That’s from the Old Testament.” López stood just inside the front doors. “Christ taught forgiveness, and love.”
Eve gave the cross another scan. “Somebody didn’t listen.”
“This was His purpose. He came to us to die for us.”
“We all come here to die.” She waved that off. “Do you lock the rectory when you come over to do Mass?”
“Yes. No.” López shook his head. “Rarely.”
“This morning?”
“No. No, I don’t think I did.” He closed his eyes, rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I understand, Lieutenant, all too well, that our faith in our neighbors may have helped cause Miguel’s death. The church is never locked. The anteroom yes, because of the tabernacle, but the church is always open to anyone in need. I know someone used that to murder my brother.”
“Will you lock it now?”
“No. This is God’s house, and it won’t be closed to His children. At least not once you allow it to reopen.”
“The scene should be cleared sometime tomorrow. The next day latest.”
“And Miguel? When will we be able to wake and bury him?”
“That may take longer.”
