Goose in the Pond - Earlene Fowler [117]
The bus station. It was as plain as that yellow school bus in front of me. I must be tired, I thought. That’s a clue Nancy Drew would never have missed. I fought the urge to run by the bus station and check myself and decided, for once, I’d tell Gabe immediately and let him decide what to do.
It was almost one o’clock when I reached downtown. The spots in front of the police station were blocked because the city was working on the streets . . . again, and all the spaces in the parking garages were full ... again. I was forced to park five blocks away and walk to the station. I was a block away when I saw Gabe come through the glass doors and start walking up the street with a determined stride. I started to call out to him, but something held me back. Instead, feeling slightly ridiculous, I followed him at a discreet distance. With his hands in his pockets and his head slightly bent so he wouldn’t catch anyone’s eye, he walked until he reached St. Celine’s Catholic Church. He walked up the steps, stopped for a moment to read something on the door, then went inside.
In front of the church a table was set up where a group of citizens were collecting signatures to try to get a proposal on the next ballot to change San Celina’s grammatically improper adulterated name back to its original Santa Celine in celebration of the mission’s upcoming two hundred-and-twenty-year anniversary. I told them I’d catch them later and followed my husband up the stairs. When I reached the top and read the small sign underneath the times for masses, I felt really embarrassed and more than a little pathetic.
CONFESSIONS HEARD—MONDAY AND THURSDAY—1:00 P.M. TO 3:00 P.M.
I turned to leave when the heavy wooden door of the church flew open and a person barreled out, almost knocking me down. I found myself staring into the stricken face of Dolores Ayala. Her dark eyes were full of tears. A look of panic contorted her face when she recognized me.
“Are you all right?” I said, putting out a hand to steady her.
She gave a small cry and shoved me away, running down the steps.
I watched her hurry through the square and disappear around the corner. Questions swirled in my head as thick as the flocks of seagulls circling the mission’s bell tower. Had Dolores just been at confession? What had she confessed that made her so upset? Could she be involved somehow with Nora’s death?
The door of the church opened behind me, and an older woman wearing a white lace covering over her gray hair came out. It occurred to me that Gabe could come back out anytime, so I started walking back toward downtown. The murder of Nora Cooper had so many loose ends that I could imagine how crazy Gabe and his detectives felt. Between that and the pain of grieving for Aaron, I was truly afraid for him. I’d definitely have to tell him about Dolores, too, but this was not the right time. I glanced at my watch. What I could do was go down to the bus station and check my theory about the keys. Maybe I’d be able to hand some evidence over to him that would help solve this case. Then he’d at least have one monkey off his back.
If San Celina had a bad side of town, the area around the bus station would definitely qualify. I was right about one thing. It was the place for the homeless to hang around without being harassed too much. Inside, the smell of Lysol, exhaust, and fried food made my stomach churn. I walked past a group of teenagers sitting on huge duffel bags and smoking cigarettes. Their conversation was in German, and one bare-chested boy sported pierced earrings on both nipples plus one on his upper lip in the shape of