Chapter Thirteen
Sunday morning, Judy and her Aunt Barb found themselves completely out of place in the crowd heading from the parking lot to the church. Judy was the only blonde, and they were taller than everyone by a foot, so they stood out like walking lighthouses. Besides that, everyone seemed to know each other, greeting each other with hugs and kisses, and there were kids of all ages holding hands, jumping up and down, laughing and talking, filling the air with Spanish and English, making a collectively happy bubble of families flowing toward the tall, arched doors of the church.
“It’s such a pretty church, isn’t it?” Aunt Barb said pleasantly, as they approached.
“It sure is.” Judy tucked her aunt’s arm under hers, a spontaneous burst of affection. Her aunt had come downstairs this morning determined to go, even though Judy could see that her eyes were puffy, undoubtedly from crying. It had been a tense breakfast, with Judy’s mother characteristically reserved toward her, just short of the silent treatment. If Aunt Barb had noticed, she kept it to herself, and her mother had surprised no one by deciding that she wouldn’t go to church with them, but instead would pack the go-bag.
“The church is relatively new and looks it, doesn’t it?”
“Yes, it does,” Judy said, as they reached the sidewalk that led to the doors. The church was a lovely structure, and its tan stucco exterior, arched windows, and rounded bell tower topped with red tiles, suggested its Spanish design.
“Have you ever been to a Catholic church?”
“No.” Judy wished Mary were here, her guide to all things Catholic. “Will the service be in Spanish?”
“Yes, and this is the one we always went to,” her aunt answered, as they filed in behind the line. “Father Keegan performs it, and your mother would be happy to know he’s Irish, complete with freckles. He always jokes that they keep him here as a token, but he’s not white, he’s pink.”
Judy smiled, but flashed on the $10,000 cash. Her aunt would have mentioned it if she had known about its existence, and Judy didn’t want to tell her about it yet, because she didn’t want to upset her before her operation. “By the way, remember when you were talking about how you used to give Iris clothes and things?”
“Sure, yes.”
“Do you think she ever sold them?”
“No, of course not.”
“Why not?” Judy inched up as the line toward the entrance shifted forward. “Do you know what her financial situation was like?”
“Not really. I paid her well, and she never complained about money. I knew she could live well enough to take care of herself, and she was careful about her money.”
“How so?”
“Whenever we ran an errand, like to the garden center, she never bought anything for herself. Same thing when we went for chemo. I would treat her in the coffee shop. She never spent money.”
Judy doubted that Iris could’ve saved as much money as had been in the garage. “Did she have a bank account, or anything?”
“No,” her aunt answered, lowering her voice as they entered the church. “Generally, you need a passport or a Social Security number for a bank account. I don’t think she had either.”
“So she kept it in cash?” Judy passed through an anteroom with buttery yellow walls and a warm, orange-tiled floor, containing a carved wooden angel, and a blue-cloaked Virgin Mary standing next to the American flag.
“I really don’t know.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but did you ever give Iris money?”
“Sure, as gifts, when I could get her to take it. Why do you ask?”
Judy thought fast, lying even as she walked past a marble stand that held a bowl of holy water. “I’m thinking about her estate, now that she’s gone. I’m wondering if I should try to follow up with that.”
“I doubt that there’s much money in it, but that’s a good idea. Perhaps next week you could try to locate it. Iris’s friend Daniella might be able to help. Thanks so much for thinking of it.”
“You’re welcome,” Judy told her, feeling guilty for keeping the discovery of the money from her aunt, a material omission in front of a painted plaster bust of a smiling Pope Francis, resting on a windowsill. A bank of candles flickered in red glasses below a primitive wooden crucifix, and a bronze plaque on the wall read Madre de Dios Church, with the names of benefactors and supporters.
They walked through a large, tiled lobby where everyone milled about greeting each other, and nuns with blue aprons over their gray habits threaded their way through the crowd, with rosary beads hanging from their waists. One of the young nuns emerged from the crowd, took Judy’s hand, and shook it. “Welcome, ladies,” the nun said in accented English, her brown eyes friendly.
“Thank you,” Judy said, and the nun greeted her aunt, then they passed through modern glass doors into one of the loveliest churches Judy had ever seen. The vaulted ceiling was a full two stories tall, and the walls were of buttery yellow lined with stained-glass windows, but the altar caught her eye. It was white and large, spanning all the way to the ceiling, and its curved shape echoed the exterior of the church itself. A crucifix hung at its apex, and along its right and left sides were painted pictures of men and women farmers, which would have been equally at home in America or Mexico.
The church was packed, and Judy and her aunt slid into the last oak pew and sat down, which was when she realized that everybody else knelt and crossed themselves before they went into the pews. She watched fascinated as one family made double and triple crosses over their foreheads and mouths before they took their seats, and she tried not to feel like a total Spanish-Catholic rookie.
The congregation settled down as Father Keegan swept to the altar, took the oak lectern, and opened his palms, then began speaking in rapid Spanish. He was dressed in white robes with a green overlay, and looked to be middle-aged, with wire-rimmed glasses, graying hair, and a ready smile. Judy got the gist of what he was saying, which was to thank everybody for coming, tell them that God loves them, and that they should have faith in him.
Suddenly Father Keegan’s expression saddened. He continued speaking, but had spotted Aunt Barb and Judy, making eye contact with them. Father Keegan said the name Iris Juarez, and Judy’s aunt nodded, her eyes filming as she whispered to Judy, “He’s telling everybody that Iris died yesterday, of a heart attack. He’s asking everyone to pray for her soul.”
“Oh my,” Judy said under her breath, as murmuring, sniffling, and tears rippled through the congregation. She put her arm around her aunt, who bent her head as Father Keegan began to lead the congregation in prayer, evidently for Iris. The church echoed with the sibilant softness of the Spanish language, and Aunt Barb began to cry, resting her head on Judy’s shoulder.
Judy listened to Father Keegan conduct the Mass, then watched everyone line up to receive Holy Communion, but all the time she was wondering about the $10,000 in the garage. The Mass ended shortly thereafter, and the congregation rose to leave, and by the time she and her aunt stood up, Judy was already getting an idea. “Aunt Barb, why don’t we go see Father Keegan? I think it would be nice to thank him for remembering Iris in the service.”
“I was thinking the same thing, honey.” Her aunt smiled at her, and Judy felt another guilty pang for lying. They walked up the center aisle as the congregation filed past them, the parents falling into conversation and the children skipping ahead in groups. They reached the front of the church and waited their turn to speak with Father Keegan, who was standing beside the lectern talking with an older woman. When his conversation was over, the priest motioned them forward, broke into a sad smile, and extended a hand to Aunt Barb.
“Barb, I’m so sorry about Iris,” Father Keegan said, shaking her hand. “What a terrible shock, for all of us. You saw for yourself the reaction of the congregation. The community is praying for her soul. You have my deepest sympathies.”
“Thank you, so much, Father Keegan.” Aunt Barb’s lips trembled, suppressing her emotion. “I thought the world of her, you know that, and you know she loved you and this church. She talked about you, and how much you’ve done for the community.
“This is my niece Judy Carrier.”
Judy shook the priest’s hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
“And you, too.” Father Keegan smiled, and up close his eyes were a lively blue and his skin actually was freckled.
Father Keegan turned again to her aunt. “Iris was one of our most devoted parishioners, and I was so shocked to hear what happened. It’s a loss for all of us.”
“It certainly is. I will be responsible for seeing that she receives a proper burial.”
“That’s very kind of you. Let me know when you receive her remains from the coroner, and we will have a Mass for her.”
“Thank you.”
Judy interjected, “Father Keegan, may I ask, how did you find out about her passing?”
“I got a telephone call last night from Detective Boone. He’s in charge of the matter.”
Judy took the lead. “He is, and we had a question or two about her death, like why she didn’t go to work that day. We asked at Mike’s Exotics, and they said she just didn’t show up. Can you shed any light on that?”
Father Keegan shook his head. “No, and that’s what I told the detective. It did seem unusual to me. It wouldn’t be like Iris.”
Judy continued, “We’re not sure why she was on Brandywine Way in the first place. Do you have any ideas about that?”
“I can’t help you there, either.” Father Keegan shook his head.
“Could she have been visiting someone, a friend perhaps? Daniella? We spoke with her roommates, but they don’t know.”
“Not that I know of. Iris had Daniella, but not many close friends.” Father Keegan’s gaze shifted to Judy’s aunt. “Mrs. Moyer, I think you were her closest friend.”
Aunt Barb swallowed visibly.
Judy glossed over the painful moment, taking over the conversation. “Do you have the names and addresses of any of her cousins in Mexico? We were wondering about what to do with any monies remaining in her estate.”
Father Keegan cocked his head. “I don’t know any of them, unfortunately. I doubt that she had much money, a will, or anything of that sort.”
“Father Keegan, was Daniella here today?”
“No, she wasn’t, but she isn’t as devoted as Iris.”
“Do you know where we can find her? We don’t even know if she knows that Iris has passed.”
“I’m sure she does. Word travels fast in this community. Daniella would be at the mission. She works there, too.”
“Is that nearby?” Judy asked, thinking ahead.