ahead of most of your other inquiries.”
I had begun writing notes to myself as she spoke, things I wanted to ask Mrs. Gruner, other things I wanted to find out from Heinz's college. They might have a record of the people in his dormitory, especially those whose rooms were near his. It made sense that he would live near friends he had made in previous years.
“I'm going to have to contact his college,” I said. “I'm sure Mrs. Gruner will remember where he went. The college has to know what happened to Heinz. A catastrophe like that doesn't happen often.”
“That's a good start. When you start putting out feelers, more things will pop up. Old acquaintances will surface. Not that I'm telling you something you don't already know.”
We had managed to talk all through dinner. Now we sipped our coffee, hearing voices and laughter from nearby tables. It was so peaceful here, it almost seemed wrong to be talking about a possible murder.
We drove to the Desert Museum after breakfast on Friday morning. It opened early, and we were both early birds. The trip itself was worth the drive. The road wound through mountains covered with saguaros and other cactus plants that were beginning to look as familiar to me as oaks and maples and sycamores in the East.
We received maps of the paths through the museum grounds as we entered. We knew there was too much tocover in one morning, so we elected to go to our left toward the hummingbird aviary, and after that, to the large aviary. In between we saw the plants and trees of the Sonoran Desert, mesquite and palo verde trees that were green from the ground up to the top, like those Deputy Gonzales had pointed out on the mountain. There were numerous varieties of chollas and agaves, beautiful golden barrels, and cactus plants that looked like works of art—the way they crept here and there, coiled around themselves, and occasionally bloomed.
“I am done in,” Joseph said as we neared the main building after wending our way along a mile of paths. “I think the other half of this wonderful place will have to wait for another visit.”
“If I can persuade Jack to come, you'll have to join us. I think he would just eat up everything we've seen and want more.”
We went inside and looked around the gift shop, enjoying the air-conditioning. I bought a small jar of Sonoran honey and a T-shirt for Eddie. By the time I finished this trip, his summer wardrobe would be complete. Joseph picked up some honey, too, a larger jar to share with the nuns who breakfasted with her. Then we hiked to our car and drove back to the city.
“I must say I like being a tourist,” Joseph said as we sat under the trees in the courtyard of Old Town, sipping lemonade and eating southwestern salads. “I've become quite adept at it in very few days. Do you think we'll have time to visit the convent?”
I looked at my watch. “Of course we have time. We can visit the museum and then drive out there.”
Joseph opened a map of Tucson and located the conventshe'd heard about. “It's quite far east. It may take us half an hour or more to get there.”
“That's what we're here for,” I said. “We'll get there.”
After lunch we walked through several of the Old Town shops, coming out near the entrance to the Museum of Art. We stopped in their gift shop first, where everything was made by southwestern artists. I picked up a few things for Eddie, Jack, and my mother-in-law, happy that I could give them beautiful and unusual gifts one would never see on the East Coast.
Then we tooka swing through the museum to see the new exhibit. The afternoon was half over when we finished. I took the wheel and Joseph guided me east and north, giving us a new part of the city to admire. There were hills and canyons in the northeast, saguaros growing everywhere, the scenery wonderful.
We reached the convent, which appeared to be empty, the church locked, a Spanish-speaking gardener unable to answer our questions. What
I had begun writing notes to myself as she spoke, things I wanted to ask Mrs. Gruner, other things I wanted to find out from Heinz's college. They might have a record of the people in his dormitory, especially those whose rooms were near his. It made sense that he would live near friends he had made in previous years.
“I'm going to have to contact his college,” I said. “I'm sure Mrs. Gruner will remember where he went. The college has to know what happened to Heinz. A catastrophe like that doesn't happen often.”
“That's a good start. When you start putting out feelers, more things will pop up. Old acquaintances will surface. Not that I'm telling you something you don't already know.”
We had managed to talk all through dinner. Now we sipped our coffee, hearing voices and laughter from nearby tables. It was so peaceful here, it almost seemed wrong to be talking about a possible murder.
We drove to the Desert Museum after breakfast on Friday morning. It opened early, and we were both early birds. The trip itself was worth the drive. The road wound through mountains covered with saguaros and other cactus plants that were beginning to look as familiar to me as oaks and maples and sycamores in the East.
We received maps of the paths through the museum grounds as we entered. We knew there was too much tocover in one morning, so we elected to go to our left toward the hummingbird aviary, and after that, to the large aviary. In between we saw the plants and trees of the Sonoran Desert, mesquite and palo verde trees that were green from the ground up to the top, like those Deputy Gonzales had pointed out on the mountain. There were numerous varieties of chollas and agaves, beautiful golden barrels, and cactus plants that looked like works of art—the way they crept here and there, coiled around themselves, and occasionally bloomed.
“I am done in,” Joseph said as we neared the main building after wending our way along a mile of paths. “I think the other half of this wonderful place will have to wait for another visit.”
“If I can persuade Jack to come, you'll have to join us. I think he would just eat up everything we've seen and want more.”
We went inside and looked around the gift shop, enjoying the air-conditioning. I bought a small jar of Sonoran honey and a T-shirt for Eddie. By the time I finished this trip, his summer wardrobe would be complete. Joseph picked up some honey, too, a larger jar to share with the nuns who breakfasted with her. Then we hiked to our car and drove back to the city.
“I must say I like being a tourist,” Joseph said as we sat under the trees in the courtyard of Old Town, sipping lemonade and eating southwestern salads. “I've become quite adept at it in very few days. Do you think we'll have time to visit the convent?”
I looked at my watch. “Of course we have time. We can visit the museum and then drive out there.”
Joseph opened a map of Tucson and located the conventshe'd heard about. “It's quite far east. It may take us half an hour or more to get there.”
“That's what we're here for,” I said. “We'll get there.”
After lunch we walked through several of the Old Town shops, coming out near the entrance to the Museum of Art. We stopped in their gift shop first, where everything was made by southwestern artists. I picked up a few things for Eddie, Jack, and my mother-in-law, happy that I could give them beautiful and unusual gifts one would never see on the East Coast.
Then we tooka swing through the museum to see the new exhibit. The afternoon was half over when we finished. I took the wheel and Joseph guided me east and north, giving us a new part of the city to admire. There were hills and canyons in the northeast, saguaros growing everywhere, the scenery wonderful.
We reached the convent, which appeared to be empty, the church locked, a Spanish-speaking gardener unable to answer our questions. What
Similar Books
