was a statue of San Xavier, reclining under a coverlet adorned with tokens representing desired miracles.
These tiny arms and legs and hearts had been pinned in place by visitors.
We made a slow round of the church, then left to visit the museum in a wing off to the right. There we found historical pictures and artifacts going back hundreds of years. The building had been started by Father Eusebio Kino in 1700, but most of it had been constructed by Franciscans and completed almost a hundred years later. Exiting behind the building, we walked through a beautiful courtyard with flowering plants and tropical trees.
“What a wonderful place,” Joseph said, “and built by Franciscans. If I saw nothing else on this trip, I would consider it successful to have come here.”
On the way back, we stopped and bought candles that we tookinside to light. Whenever I have the opportunity, I light three, one for each of my parents and one for Aunt Meg.
Outside in the hot sun, we decided to take a hike up to the cross.
“I think we'll both be a few pounds lighter when we get back,” Joseph said.
“And more muscular. I feel every step in my legs.”
We took it slowly, spending close to an hour on the hill. Many of the people around us spoke Spanish. Others looked as though they might be Indians from nearby reservations.
Back at ground level, we sauntered toward the car, the late-afternoon sun beating down on us. A priest walked by and stopped to talk to Joseph. I left them and continued toward the car, which was as hot as an oven. I opened the windows and turned on the air conditioner till it was cool enough to close up. Joseph was striding toward the car. She got in, thanking me for cooling it off.
I drove back to the hotel, Joseph turning to look at the mission for the last time.
* * *
We ate at a well-known Mexican restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It was pleasant enough that we could eat outside in the garden. In the desert, I learned, the nights were cool most of the year, affording relief after the hot days. The food was different from any I had ever eaten. Unsweetened chocolate was used as a flavor with the meat, and skeptical as I was when I placed my order, it was delicious. I knew Jack would love it.
“This was certainly a successful day,” Joseph said. “We learned some important things connected to your investigation and I satisfied a desire I have had for more than twenty years. We couldn't ask for much more.”
“But I have much more to find out. Now that I suspect there was another person present when Heinz fell, I know I have to continue digging into this. I've been wondering whether Heinz traveled to Arizona alone. He might have come with someone from school.”
“His airline ticket was missing. It may have been in the missing suitcase.”
“Or among the things that were stolen out of the backpack.”
“Good thought,” Joseph said. “Twenty years ago you didn't need picture ID to travel. Any man could have posed as Heinz Gruner and gotten a free flight back to wherever he came from. I think you have many questions to ask his mother, Chris.”
I agreed. “I hope she doesn't find it too stressful.”
“She'll overcome it. This has been the agony of her life. She wants answers, most of all to the question of whether her son committed suicide. While it seemed a likely possibility a few days ago, it doesn't anymore.”
“It's hard to imagine anyone would have wanted to kill him,” I said. “He wasn't a bully, he kept to himself, he was pleasant enough even if he wasn't outgoing. I know so little about him, it's hard to know where to begin.”
“You know little about any of the victims whose deaths you have investigated. They come to you out of the blue with no history, no known friends or business associates. You learn all that when you look into their deaths. You're ahead of the game here. You remember this person and you've met his mother. That puts you two giant steps
These tiny arms and legs and hearts had been pinned in place by visitors.
We made a slow round of the church, then left to visit the museum in a wing off to the right. There we found historical pictures and artifacts going back hundreds of years. The building had been started by Father Eusebio Kino in 1700, but most of it had been constructed by Franciscans and completed almost a hundred years later. Exiting behind the building, we walked through a beautiful courtyard with flowering plants and tropical trees.
“What a wonderful place,” Joseph said, “and built by Franciscans. If I saw nothing else on this trip, I would consider it successful to have come here.”
On the way back, we stopped and bought candles that we tookinside to light. Whenever I have the opportunity, I light three, one for each of my parents and one for Aunt Meg.
Outside in the hot sun, we decided to take a hike up to the cross.
“I think we'll both be a few pounds lighter when we get back,” Joseph said.
“And more muscular. I feel every step in my legs.”
We took it slowly, spending close to an hour on the hill. Many of the people around us spoke Spanish. Others looked as though they might be Indians from nearby reservations.
Back at ground level, we sauntered toward the car, the late-afternoon sun beating down on us. A priest walked by and stopped to talk to Joseph. I left them and continued toward the car, which was as hot as an oven. I opened the windows and turned on the air conditioner till it was cool enough to close up. Joseph was striding toward the car. She got in, thanking me for cooling it off.
I drove back to the hotel, Joseph turning to look at the mission for the last time.
* * *
We ate at a well-known Mexican restaurant a few blocks from the hotel. It was pleasant enough that we could eat outside in the garden. In the desert, I learned, the nights were cool most of the year, affording relief after the hot days. The food was different from any I had ever eaten. Unsweetened chocolate was used as a flavor with the meat, and skeptical as I was when I placed my order, it was delicious. I knew Jack would love it.
“This was certainly a successful day,” Joseph said. “We learned some important things connected to your investigation and I satisfied a desire I have had for more than twenty years. We couldn't ask for much more.”
“But I have much more to find out. Now that I suspect there was another person present when Heinz fell, I know I have to continue digging into this. I've been wondering whether Heinz traveled to Arizona alone. He might have come with someone from school.”
“His airline ticket was missing. It may have been in the missing suitcase.”
“Or among the things that were stolen out of the backpack.”
“Good thought,” Joseph said. “Twenty years ago you didn't need picture ID to travel. Any man could have posed as Heinz Gruner and gotten a free flight back to wherever he came from. I think you have many questions to ask his mother, Chris.”
I agreed. “I hope she doesn't find it too stressful.”
“She'll overcome it. This has been the agony of her life. She wants answers, most of all to the question of whether her son committed suicide. While it seemed a likely possibility a few days ago, it doesn't anymore.”
“It's hard to imagine anyone would have wanted to kill him,” I said. “He wasn't a bully, he kept to himself, he was pleasant enough even if he wasn't outgoing. I know so little about him, it's hard to know where to begin.”
“You know little about any of the victims whose deaths you have investigated. They come to you out of the blue with no history, no known friends or business associates. You learn all that when you look into their deaths. You're ahead of the game here. You remember this person and you've met his mother. That puts you two giant steps
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