several long moments, then shook his head. âI didnât notice anyone, but thatâs not to say they werenât there. I had my attention focused on other things.â
âHow did you happen to arrive on the crime scene when you did?â Sister Agatha asked.
âOne of our biggest campaign contributors showed up late, just in time for the fireworks. I wanted him and Robert to meet face-to-face, but by then Robert had slipped away. I searched around the park looking for him, but . . . I was too late,â he added, shaking his head.
She was about to press him for more details when she saw Mayor Garcia working his way toward them from across the room. His look made it clear that she was as welcome as bubonic plague.
âIf the sheriffâs claiming it was self-defense, Sister, heâs got a big credibility gap to cover,â Russo continued. âEven with the stick Robert was holding, the sheriff could have easily overpowered him. He could have just sprayed him in the face, for one. I saw the can of Mace, or whatever, on the sheriffâs gun belt.â He paused. âIf I were you, Iâd concentrate on saving souls and let law enforcement officers solve the crimes. Your interference will only complicate matters in this community. Why donât you go home, Sister Agatha?â
âWe came to let the family know weâll be praying for them and everyone whoâs involved in this tragedy, Mr. Russo.â
âThatâs not the only reason youâre here. You came hoping to learn something that might help you get the sheriff off the hook. Iâm used to putting spin on just about everything, Sister, so donât try to kid a kidder.â
Glancing past Russo, Sister Agatha saw the mayor pointing her out to another man, probably one of his security staff.
âI donât want to be responsible for unsettling the family, so Iâll leave now,â Sister Agatha said.
âExcellent decision,â Russo answered.
Signaling Sister Bernarda, whoâd been watching them, she hurried to the door. Less than five minutes later, they were in the Antichrysler heading down the highway.
âI think the mayor would have had you escorted off the property if weâd stayed even two more minutes,â Sister Bernarda said.
âYeah, I saw what was going on. Thatâs why I figured it was time for us to go.â
âIâm going to stop by Smittyâs on our way back,â Sister Bernarda said. âI promised to pick up a few things for Maria Victoria.â
âPlease tell me itâs not more salsa,â Sister Agatha said with a groan.
Sister Bernarda smiled. âNo, we lucked out on that. Maria Victoria wanted us to see if Smitty could be persuaded to donate some fresh green chiles. One of our neighbors brought us a huge roasting chicken, and Sister is making chicken enchiladas tomorrow.â
âMake real sure that theyâre
mild
chiles, will you?â Sister Agatha asked. âThose last burritos of hers nearly burned through the roof of my mouth.â
âThatâs because Maria Victoria used green chiles from Mrs. Sernaâs garden. To the Sernas, that
is
mild.â
âI grew up eating green chiles in this part of the country,â Sister Agatha said, âbut if that wasnât hot, Iâd sure hate to taste what is. I was sweating, and my eyes were tearing. And did you see poor Reverend Motherâs reaction? She took a bite, gasped, and reached for her waterâwhich, of course, is the worst thing she could have done. Crackers or bread puts out the fire; water just spreads it around.â
Sister Bernardaâs lips twitched; then she burst out laughing. âThe only one who came out okay that day was Sister Ignatius, whoâd been feeling under the weather and decided to have Sister Clothildeâs chicken soup instead.â
âI really miss Sister Clothilde,â Sister Agatha said
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