False Witness

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  Ernesto and his two male companions reacted exactly the way she’d hoped.

  “Uh … okay, Sister. Maybe later. But I gotta go now,” Ernesto said, reaching for the door handle on the low-slung car just behind him.

  The other two boys with him avoided eye contact with her as well and, muttering excuses, shuffled toward an adjacent vehicle as quickly as their “cool” walk would allow.

  By the time Sister Agatha looked back at Liz, she saw the girl was trying to slink away. Using her best teacher/nun voice, she snapped, “One moment, Liz.”

  The girl stopped in her tracks, rolling her eyes as Ernesto drove away, in case he was watching, then finally turned to face her. “You want me for something else, Sister? Please tell me it isn’t that gate thing again!”

  “Liz, it’s just you and me here now … well, and Pax,” she said, noting that the girl had her eyes on the dog, who was still in the sidecar. “Relax.”

  “You’re so lucky to have him, Sister,” Liz said, going over to pet him. “He’s really beautiful. When I leave home that’s one of the first things I’ll be getting,” Liz said, then started to put her hands into her pockets before she realized her slacks had no pockets. Awkwardly, she crossed her arms in front of her chest.

  Sister Agatha allowed the silence to stretch out between them, sensing Liz wanted to tell her something, but was finding it difficult to put into words.

  “You know I’m not involved in what happened at the monastery, right, Sister Agatha?” Liz said. “And I don’t drink or go cruising with anyone who would do that either.”

  “You’re still hanging around with the wrong crowd,” Sister Agatha said softly. “And when that becomes a habit, you can get caught up in trouble you never intended.”

  “I’m not part of a gang, honest. But the people I thought were my friends at St. Charles just don’t want to hang with me anymore. Guys like Ernesto at least don’t look down their noses at me.”

  “Liz, you’re still dancing around the big issue. You know something about the accident at our gates that you’re not telling me.”

  “You’re wrong, Sister. I don’t know anything about who stole that SUV, and I wasn’t there when someone used it to ram your gates. I swear! I can’t figure out how those beer cans got there. Maybe someone put my prints on them. It’s possible to do that, you know. I saw it on TV.”

  Sister Agatha gave her an incredulous look. “Come on, Liz. Give us both a break.”

  Liz sighed and stepped closer to Sister Agatha. “Okay,” she whispered, “but you can’t tell anyone.”

  Even under these circumstances Sister Agatha couldn’t bring herself to purposely mislead Liz. “Will Sheriff Green need to know what you’re going to tell me in order to make an arrest?”

  “No,” Liz answered flatly.

  “Okay—go for it then. I’m listening.”

  “Leeann and I got invited to Sheila Conner’s house that night for a kind-of party. Sheila’s parents were out of town, so we snuck out after Leeann’s parents went to bed. One of the guys Sheila invited brought a six-pack and we each had one beer. That’s it, Sister. And I didn’t even finish mine. I just sipped it for a while. I hate beer, and this wasn’t even cold. It almost made me gag.”

  “Then how does the wrecked SUV fit into this? I don’t understand,” Sister Agatha asked.

  “Neither do we. We never left her house—well, except for one time—until we snuck back into Leeann’s at around two in the morning.”

  “What happened that one time, Liz? What did you do?”

  She tugged at her ring and stared at her hand. “That was when Sheila and I dumped the empties in her neighbor’s trash can across the street,” she muttered. “If Sheila’s dad had seen the cans in their garbage, he would have grounded her until after the Second Coming.”

  Sister Agatha nodded thoughtfully. She knew the Conners. Sheila’s dad had been arrested for domestic abuse, and his wife had spent time at the battered-woman’s shelter. “Sheila took quite a chance,” Sister Agatha said softly, “and so did you and Leeann.”

  “I know, but we all feel sorry for Sheila. Sheila’s parents don’t allow her to do anything. I don’t blame her for cutting loose once in a while. But as God’s my witness, Sister Agatha, none of us have the remotest idea how those cans got into that SUV. We put them in the neighbor’s recycle bin. There was no lid, and it was full already, so the cans were on top. But why would anyone go pick them out? To take the last sip? Yuck.”

  “That still sounds like a strange story, Liz. Someone stealing basically empty beer cans?” Sister Agatha challenged her with a long, skeptical gaze.

  “Sister, I’m telling you the truth. Macho—Ernesto—was there trying to make his move on Leeann. And, yeah, we were drinking beer. But no way we’d steal a car.”

  “Gangs have been known to do that, and Ernesto’s in a gang,” Sister Agatha pressed.

  “The Diablos Locos act tough and all that, but none of them will risk the D-home or jail. Macho’s uncle is a cop, and he leans on Macho pretty hard. That’s why Macho stays clean—not including the beer, of course.”

  Sister Agatha heard voices, one she recognized, and turned to look. Macho had returned, and appeared to be arguing with another teen—a slender kid with styled hair and clothes that didn’t suggest a gang affiliation.

  Liz saw what was going on, too. “Don’t worry, Macho won’t throw blows. Not here in public, anyway.”

  The boy Macho had been confronting walked away quickly, not running but close to it.

  “See?” Liz lowered her voice. “Macho got arrested once and his uncle took him to the D-home. He left him there overnight just to show him what jail was like. Then he told Macho about prison and made sure he met a couple of ex-cons. Since then, Macho has been straight—well, except for a little drinking, and giving some of the kids at school a hard time.”

  Hearing footsteps on the asphalt, Sister Agatha turned her head and saw Macho approaching. Pax got to his feet suddenly, his gaze on the boy, but Sister Agatha reassured him quickly. “It’s okay, boy.”

  “Noticed you stuck around, Liz. You guys talking about the beer cans again?” Seeing Sister Agatha nod, he added, “I don’t know what Liz told you, Sister, but someone set us up.”

  “She knows what happened,” Liz confirmed.

  He looked at Liz then back at Sister Agatha. “Did she tell you where she and Sheila left the empties?”

  “Yes, she did,” Sister Agatha answered.

  She knew that it was almost a direct route from where the cans had supposedly been dumped by the girls to the site where the SUV had been stolen. The beer cans could have been picked up en route by the SUV’s driver. She wouldn’t rule out the possibility that it had been a deliberate act to target the kids.

  Knowing how easily violence could escalate between rival gangs, she added, “But if someone had wanted to deliberately frame you or your friends, they would have been more careful handling the cans. Most of the prints were lost—smeared. The police only got one partial and one full print.”

  “Yeah, maybe you’re right, Sister, but it could be they weren’t too smart about it. You never know,” Macho said. “I’m going to keep my eyes and ears open. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks,” Sister Agatha replied.

  “You coming, Liz?” Macho pointed toward his car, which was parked several slots down. “I’ll meet you there in a sec.”

  As he strolled away, Liz turned to Sister Agatha and in a whisper-soft voice, added, “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you. The nuns have made some enemies in town, so watch your back.”

  “Enemies? What on earth are you talking about?”

  “That’s all I’ve got to say, Sister.” Liz started to walk away, but Sister Agatha placed a hand on her arm.

  “Tell me what you’ve heard, Liz,” she pressed.

  “That’s all I know, Sister. Just remember what I said,” she whispered urgently, then jogged
over to join Macho, who’d stopped to wait about halfway to his car.

  Sister Agatha watched Liz for a moment, trying to figure things out. Liz wouldn’t have said something like that without reason. She suddenly had a strong feeling that the monastery’s problems were just beginning.

  By the time she returned to the monastery it was after six. Although the parlor was locked to visitors now, she knew that either Sister Bernarda or Sister de Lourdes would be there, waiting for her return.

  Sister Agatha knocked lightly and Sister Bernarda came to the door immediately. “We were beginning to worry about you,” Sister Bernarda said, her voice hard.

  “I’m sorry. I was delayed,” she answered. “Let me help you lock up and then we’ll go to recreation. It’s been a long, tough day and you and I could both use some time to unwind,” Sister Agatha said.

  Sister Bernarda shook her head. “I’m going to chapel. I need to sort some things out.”

  “Your Charity, won’t you tell me what’s bothering you?” she asked, pleading with her eyes as well as with her words. “You’ve been so upset lately and I’d really like to help.”

  Sister Bernarda stared thoughtfully at the gold band around the fourth finger of her left hand, the symbol that distinguished her as a Bride of Christ. “I need to get a better handle on this before I can talk about it. But there is something you can do.”

  “Name it.”

  “Pray that I can find peace again.”

  “I will, Sister Bernarda. And remember our Lord always takes care of his own.”

  After making sure the parlor was locked up, Sister Agatha went to the communal room. When she arrived, Reverend Mother and Sister Gertrude were preparing for their daily walk. Sister Gertrude’s doctor had advised her to find an “exercise buddy” for the times she left her wheelchair so that she wouldn’t overexert herself. Reverend Mother had insisted on taking the job.

  Before Sister Agatha could join them, Sister de Lourdes took her aside. “Your Charity, I need to speak to you. Something’s been weighing heavily on Sister Bernarda. I found her almost in tears earlier today, though she tried to hide that as soon as she saw me. She instantly muttered something about hormones acting up, and said I shouldn’t give it another thought.”

  Mood swings and emotional outbreaks were part of menopause, and Sister Bernarda was the right age for that, but it wasn’t really something they’d ever talked about. Before she could answer Sister de Lourdes, Sister Clothilde came up, and, mindful of her vow of silence, signaled for Sister Agatha to follow her. They ended up in the kitchen, where Sister Clothilde placed a bowl of vegetable soup and a slice of bread in front of her.

  “Sister Clothilde, this is very kind. You saved me something from collation,” Sister Agatha said, using the term for dinner. “But it wasn’t necessary.”

  “Yes, it was,” another voice piped in from behind her.

  Sister Agatha turned her head and saw that Sister Eugenia had followed them in. “You’ve been neglecting your arthritis medication, Sister Agatha, and tonight I intend to see to it that you take your pill. We’re expecting rain, and you know how your hands swell when the humidity is up.”

  “It really hasn’t been bothering me so much lately,” Sister Agatha protested. “I don’t want to take any medication unless there’s a need.”

  “If you wait until the symptoms start, you’re in for a rough time, and I’m here to make sure we avoid that.”

  Sister Agatha glanced down at her hands. Her joints were misshapen but not badly. Still, arthritis made her feel ancient and far older than her midforties. As she glanced up at Sister Eugenia, she saw her bright blue eyes shimmering with uncompromising determination—a sure sign that any argument would be futile.

  As Sister Agatha began to eat, Sister Eugenia took out the medicine bottle from her pocket and placed one pill before her. “Take it after you finish eating—not during. And don’t forget!”

  Sister Agatha felt guilty sitting there eating while Sister Clothilde gave up recreation, but the older nun refused to leave her side. After she finished, Sister Agatha washed the dishes and helped sweep up and clean the kitchen. They were nearly done and anticipating the bell for Compline when Sister de Lourdes came in looking for her.

  “Sister Agatha, tomorrow after morning prayers, will you come help me in the scriptorium? The orders are getting all fouled up again. We’ve also received some letters that I need to talk to you about. They’re very—”

  The bell for Compline rang, and immediately they stopped speaking. Their bridegroom called. Heads bowed, they silently made their way to chapel.

  7

  THE NEXT MORNING SISTER AGATHA MET WITH REVEREND Mother and went over the details of her meeting with John Gutierrez.

  After reading the copies of the legal agreement, Reverend Mother looked up. “This looks like a great opportunity, but do you think you’ll be able to find Angela Sanchez? Private investigators weren’t able to help Mr. Gutierrez. What makes you think you’ll be able to do what they couldn’t?”

  “Many people around here would be reluctant to speak to a stranger. But most everyone knows me and, by and large, I’m trusted.”

  “Go ahead and give it your best try then, child. You have our blessings and Our Lord to guide you.”

  “I’ll get right on it. Mr. Gutierrez’s check will help our cash-flow problem, too. It’s the proverbial coin in the fish’s mouth—coming when it’s most needed and out of the blue.”

  “That sum would have paid for the gate and then some when I was a girl. Nowadays, it doesn’t go very far—not with health insurance, car insurance, and monthly utility bills,” she said, then added in a stronger voice, “But we’ll take things one day at a time. ‘Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof,’ as Our Lord said.”

  By the time Sister Agatha made it to the scriptorium, Merilee Brown was there with Sister de Lourdes. The NexCen tech had shown up once again to help them out. Aware Sister Agatha had joined them and, not wanting to interrupt Merilee at the keyboard, Sister de Lourdes took Sister Agatha aside.

  “She’s checking out the system again, trying to find the source of the latest glitches. This might take hours,” she said in a whisper-soft voice, “and I’ll need to stay here with Merilee. Do you think Sister Bernarda can cover my shift in the parlor?”

  “If she can’t, I will,” Sister Agatha said.

  Sister Agatha hurried to the parlor and found Sister Bernarda sorting through some hand tools in a plastic container. Tears stained her face. Seeing Sister Agatha, she looked away quickly and wiped her face.

  “I’ve checked with Mr. Fiorino and he’s agreed to inspect the work I do with the outlets,” she said, her tone preempting any questions. “I’m now checking to find out what else I’ll need to start work.”

  Sister Agatha touched her arm lightly. “I sure wish you’d tell me what’s bothering you, Sister. Talking about things may help.”

  Sister Bernarda’s shoulders sagged as if she were carrying an unbearable weight, but, this time, she nodded. “I’m going through menopause and it’s been forcing me to take a hard look at everything—mostly myself,” she admitted reluctantly. “I know this sounds crazy, but the worst of it is knowing that even if I left my vocation—which I never would—I still wouldn’t be able to have children now. When we’re young, no decision seems irrevocable. Then, as we get older, we have to live with the consequences of the choices we made. As a nun, I’ve lived with that sacrifice and never questioned it. But once my periods stopped, the awareness of what I’d given up started eating at me. Sometimes it feels like there’s a huge hole inside me. I think it’s the emptiness left by all the things that might have been.”

  Sister Agatha wanted to hug her but knew Sister Bernarda wouldn’t tolerate it. “Knowing we’ll never have kids is the biggest sacrifice we all make. None of us ever really gets over it,” she answered gently.

  “But when you face the fact that there’s no turning back—that’s when the c
ost hits you the hardest.”

  “When you became a nun you submitted everything you are to His care. Put this longing and your tears before Him now. He promised never to leave us comfortless. You need to trust Him now more than ever.”

  Sister Bernarda nodded silently. “I am His bride.”

  “He loves you and He is faithful.”

  Sister Bernarda said nothing for a long time then, taking a deep breath, focused her attention back on Sister Agatha. “Enough of this,” she said, sounding like her old self at the moment. “Did you stop by to let me know you were going into town?”

  Sister Agatha nodded. “I’m doing a job for Mr. Gutierrez,” Sister Agatha said, and gave her the highlights.

  “It sounds like a wonderful offer, particularly with that parcel of land thrown in. I hope it all works out.”

  “Before I go there’s something else. We have a potential problem. Our monastery may have acquired some enemies in the community,” she said, telling Sister Bernarda what Liz had said. “Normally I don’t pay any attention to rumors, but in view of our destroyed gate, the person lurking right outside our wall, and having to deal with a hacker … well, I think there might be something to this. These incidents can’t all be just the result of bad luck or coincidence. Liz may be on to something.”

  “But who are these enemies we’re supposed to have?” Sister Bernarda asked. “Last year’s cookie war, if we can call it that, was resolved amicably. And there’s been no other source of contention between us and the community.”

  “It’s time I headed into town and started poking around. Maybe I can pick up some hint about what’s going on.”

  Just then Sister Clothilde came up to the grille, rapped on the bars, and extended a note to them.

  Sister Bernarda read it quickly, then looked at Sister Agatha. “There’s a man with binoculars looking over the wall that separates our property from the vineyard.”