“No,” I said and signaled for him to return to the backseat.
Sirius obeyed in slow motion, his body reluctantly inching to where I pointed. As he grudgingly returned to his place, he made a plaintive sound in his throat, begging me to reconsider.
I was surprised by his acting out, and I assumed the alpha male pose while spitting out “Lass das sein!” the German for “Don’t do that!” Sirius shrank a little at the rebuff and stopped his noises, but he appeared to be more sidetracked than chastened.
Before leaving the car, I made sure all the windows were opened several inches. As I walked away, Sirius pressed his muzzle as far as he could out the driver’s window and whined. His persistence almost made me stop, but I knew that cloistered monasteries don’t make a point of welcoming two-legged outsiders, let alone four-legged ones.
Outside the monastic enclosure were displays showing the Stations of the Cross. Each of the stations portrayed Christ on his fateful journey from Gethsemane to Golgotha. The women inside the monastery, I thought, had devoted their lives to remembering that journey.
I passed by the stations without stopping. There wasn’t a soul at the deserted meditation garden-Nordstrom was probably having a sale-and I continued on to the gift shop. Standing inside the door and finishing up with a customer was a woman I assumed was Karen Santos. Karen and the woman she was talking to were both Filipinas, and as they said their good-byes they spoke a combination of Tagalog and English. I held the door as the woman made her way out. She looked to be weighed down by her package, which meant she was probably carrying a loaf of the pumpkin bread.
Karen turned to face me with a tight smile. She extended her hand and in unaccented and precise English said, “You must be Detective Gideon. I’m Karen Santos.”
Second generation, I decided. Her parents would have pushed her to succeed in the new land, and her dignified bearing made me think that she had. We finished our handshake, and then Karen did a little hand wringing. “I just wish Dottie had arranged for you to call me before you made your trip here, Detective. She seems sure that I can help you with your case, but I have my doubts about that, and I am hoping this won’t turn out to be a fruitless journey for you.”
I tried to put her at ease: “Well, it won’t be fruitless, because I’m picking up a loaf of pumpkin bread. Or are pumpkins a vegetable?”
“Pumpkins are a fruit, I believe, because they contain seeds.”
“Then my visit will be fruitful, although I do have some non-fruit-related questions.”
“I’ll be glad to answer them if I can.”
The fruit icebreaker had her looking more relaxed. “Dottie told me that you waited on a customer that bought some blue and pink bootees, and a loaf of pumpkin bread.”
Karen nodded. “I think she was here last Friday. It was the blue and pink bootees that made me remember her visit. Most of the time people buy one color or the other, but she bought both.”
“Tell me about her.”
“I wish I could. I’ve been trying to remember anything that might help you, but I’m afraid our encounter was brief and not very memorable.”
“Let’s start with a description.”
“I am fairly certain she was Latina, but she didn’t speak with any accent. She had a dark complexion and had brown eyes and black hair. As far as I recall she was of average height, but on the heavy side. She was shy, but after we talked a little I saw that she had a beautiful smile with very white teeth.”
“What did you talk about?”
“I commented on the bootees. I think I said something like, ‘Are you buying for twins?’ And then the girl said they were for her aunt, who wasn’t sure if she was having a boy or a girl. After she told me that I said, ‘You’re smart to not take any chances.’ And then I said that she could return one pair of the bootees if she brought the receipt back with her.”
“How did she react to that?”
“I think she nodded, but she was too shy to make much eye contact.”
“You said she was heavy. Do you think she could have been pregnant?”
Karen hesitated before answering. “That thought did cross my mind, but I learned long ago that you never ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless you’re absolutely sure she is. All you have to do is make that mistake once and you’ll never do it again. As soon as she told me the bootees were for her aunt, I took her at her word.”
“How old was she?”
“She could have been anywhere from fifteen to twenty-five, but now that I think about it I’m guessing she was in her late teens.”
I encouraged Karen with a nod and a look that reassured her so that she continued talking.
“I think she was wearing costume jewelry, and her makeup was on the heavy side, with lots of black eyeliner.”
“Can you recall the clothing she was wearing?”
Karen grimaced. “I seem to remember she had on jeans and an oversized sweatshirt with an animal logo on it. It had writing of some kind.”
“You don’t remember what that logo was?”
“I wish I did. It feels like an image I should know, but the more I think about it, the more it won’t quite show itself, which I now know is even more frustrating than trying to pull out a word that’s stuck on the tip of your tongue.”
I nodded and tried to give off the impression that it was no big deal. “Don’t sweat it. When you least expect it, the image will probably just pop into your head.”
“That’s what I have been telling myself.”
“How did she pay?”
“We only take cash here.”
“Maybe you should have one of those signs that say ‘In God we trust, all others pay cash.’”
Karen laughed and then said sotto voce, “I don’t think the sisters would approve.”
“What else can you tell me about this woman?”
She thought a moment, shook her head, but then thought of something. “I don’t think she had very much money.”
“Why is that?”
“When she was buying the bootees, she kept sniffing the air and taking in the aroma of the pumpkin bread. I told her that over the years I’d probably gained ten pounds from inhaling pumpkin bread, or at least that was my story and I was sticking to it. That got a little smile out of her, and then she asked how much a loaf cost. When I told her the price, she thought about it, and after some deliberation she decided to buy a loaf. It wasn’t an impulse purchase but one that she weighed out, as if debating whether she had enough money. I remember feeling almost guilty taking her money.”
“What time of day did she come in?”
“It was in the early afternoon, probably somewhere around two o’clock.”
“Was it your impression that this woman was familiar with the gift shop and monastery?”
Karen shook her head. “I am fairly certain she’d never been here before. When she walked into the gift shop she looked around the way people do when they come here for the first time.”
I mulled that over. “What do you think brought her here?”
“Some people visit the monastery to reflect. It’s a holy place.”
I smiled, encouraging her to talk. A witness that is comfortable tends to remember more than one who is on edge.
“I thought the monastery was closed to the public,” I said.
“The cells are cloistered, but there are gardens and public areas open to visitors, and on occasion there are services open to the public. They’re very simple but beautiful. When I attend I usually find myself looking at the monstrance. It’s shaped not only in the form of a cross, but also that of the sword of Saint Michael.”
I didn’t have any idea what a monstrance was, but I nodded knowingly.
“Were you named after the Archangel Michael?” she asked.
I shook my head. “I was named after my great-uncle Mike, and as far as I know he was about the opposite of an archangel. Uncle Mike had a lot of fishing poles, but I don’t think he had a sword.”