The Prodigal Nun

by Aimée Thurlo

  Hearing a door slam, she turned and saw Sister Bernarda jogging toward her. “Don’t touch it!” Sister Bernarda called out. “It could be dangerous.”

  “I think it’s only intended as a warning,” Sister Agatha said, stepping aside to give her a clearer look. “I just wish there was some way to tell who originally received that card.”

  Sister Agatha went over to the wall, pulled herself up, and looked around. No one was within sight. The long-established grape vines were thick with leaves and afforded many hiding places. She waited for a moment, but nothing changed.

  “Maybe we should start making the prayer cards more specific,” Sister Bernarda said.

  “It probably wouldn’t have helped, at least not in this instance. There’s no way to prove that this card wasn’t stolen,” Sister Agatha said, studying the crow again without touching it. “Our prayer cards are often left on desks or counters where everyone can see them. I’ve even spotted a few on office bulletin boards.”

  “Should I call the sheriff?” Sister Bernarda asked. “I hate to bother him about a dead bird—even one that’s meant to symbolically represent us.”

  “I don’t want to legitimize this in any way either, but we have no other choice. We’re not supposed to divert the deputy parked outside unless it’s an emergency, and this doesn’t qualify, but since it’s the second threat we’ve received, Tom has to be told,” Sister Agatha said. “I’ll stay here and make sure no creature comes along and carries the carcass off.” She glanced at Pax, who’d never taken his eyes off the bird. “That means you too, boy.”

  The bells rang signaling Sext, the midday canonical hour said after the Angelus at Our Lady of Hope.

  “If you’re still out here after prayers, I’ll send you a plate,” Sister Bernarda said.

  Sister Agatha thanked her and watched as she went back inside. The largest meal of the day was lunch. She was usually hungry by then, as she was now, since breakfast and collation—dinner—were extremely light.

  Alone with what their enemy had left, Sister Agatha prayed for all the sisters. What if Sister Gertrude, with her weak heart, had found this? Grateful that things had worked out the way they had, she gave thanks to the Lord.

  Sister Jo came out to meet her a short time later with a plate of food. “This is what the people in our Good News Meal Program received today. Sister Bernarda and I made the deliveries. The butternut squash soup is especially good. Why don’t you sit over there in the shade while you eat, Sister Agatha? I’ll stay and keep an eye on things for you.”

  Sister Agatha thanked her, then went to sit in the shade of a tall cottonwood while she ate. Just as Sister Jo had said, the soup in particular was very tasty. As she finished her lunch, she heard a vehicle and saw the sheriff pull up.

  Tom hurried over to meet them, studied the box and the bird, then gauged the trajectory by raising himself to the top of the wall for a quick look. Finally he came back to join Sister Agatha. “What bothers me most is that I’ve got a deputy keeping an eye on this place, yet the perp still managed to deliver this package.”

  Sister Agatha knew that tone of voice. The deputy would have a lot of explaining to do. “To be fair, the officer was ordered to watch the monastery, not the vineyard next door. Even walking the perimeter, with the high wall, he can’t see more than two sides at a time, and that’s only at the corners.”

  “I know the wall is too high to see over, but did you notice anyone in the parking area or around the gates?”

  Sister Agatha shook her head, as did Sister Jo.

  Tom began taking photos of the box, the dead crow, and the general area with a small digital camera.

  “Who’s on duty this morning?” Sister Agatha asked him.

  “Officer Bennett. Originally, I’d planned to keep him on desk duty for a while longer, but with the murder investigation, I’m low on deputies.”

  “Why didn’t you want him out in the field? I know his family’s in mourning, but he wasn’t close to Jane.”

  “I’m worried about the pressure he’s under and how he’ll deal with it.”

  “Pressure? What do you mean?”

  “When a crime’s committed that involves a member of a police officer’s family, relatives always turn to that officer for answers. Gerry, who’s a pain in the butt on a good day, has been pushing everyone in the department for details of the investigation.”

  “I should have told you that when I spoke to him yesterday, he asked me to pass along any information I managed to get,” she said.

  “Sounds like Gerry. What did you tell him?”

  “Nothing at all, actually.”

  “Well, watching the monastery is as close as he’s going to get to investigating his mother-in-law’s murder.”

  As they approached Bennett’s patrol car, Sister Agatha glanced at Tom. “Before you come down too heavy on Gerry, keep in mind that it’s likely he was being watched today, too. The person who served up the dead crow undoubtedly made sure Gerry was going to be somewhere else when he made his move.”

  “You’re defending him?” Tom asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

  “No, just pointing out the facts—he was played like the rest of us.”

  When Deputy Bennett came over to meet them, Tom told him what had happened, fire in his eyes.

  Bennett was quick to defend himself. “Sheriff, I’ve been here all morning. No one went past me unnoticed. I also made the quarter-hour foot patrols. But I can’t be everywhere at once. It takes me five minutes, give or take, just to walk the perimeter.”

  “Who came to visit the monastery this morning?” Sheriff Green asked him.

  “After Sister Agatha left on the Harley with the dog, a woman visitor drove through the gates and went to the parlor. She stayed for fifteen minutes, then left. Around then, two nuns drove out in the station wagon with a load of food containers, then returned about an hour and a half later. Sister Agatha arrived shortly afterward. Nothing else happened within my view.”

  “Someone was able to get close enough to throw that box over the wall,” Tom argued.

  “When did that go down?” Bennett asked, sounding even more defensive now.

  “Right before noon,” Sister Agatha said.

  He considered it briefly, then answered. “They had a crew of laborers at the vineyard most of the morning. I saw them tending the irrigation lines when I went around that side of the property. Any one of them could have tossed the box over the wall.”

  “Give us a moment, Sister Agatha,” Tom said, then stepped away with Gerry.

  Although she couldn’t hear them, she saw Tom use his radio, and within a few minutes another sheriff’s department vehicle drove up. Shortly afterward, Gerry drove away.

  Tom exchanged a few words with the new arrival, then came back to join her. “Officer Bennett’s got court this afternoon, so I decided to get his replacement over here now. You may have met her already. Deputy Laura Sims used to serve with the Baton Rouge Police Department before she relocated to New Mexico.”

  “Let me go say hello,” Sister Agatha said. She had come across Deputy Sims during an investigation last year.

  Laura was a tall, athletic-looking woman with short-cropped red hair. Her bright blue eyes sparkled with life. “Nothing much gets past me, Sister Agatha,” she said, shaking Sister Agatha’s hand. “It’s a skill I developed as the mom of an active five-year-old.”

  “I’m glad you’re here. If you have any problems or questions we can help you with, just let us know,” Sister Agatha said.

  “Don’t worry about anything, Sister. I’m Catholic, and I’ll be especially careful not to enter cloistered areas. The nuns taught me too well for that,” she answered with a smile.

  Sister Agatha found herself liking Deputy Sims more every time she saw her. “That’s good to hear.”

  After saying good-bye to Tom and asking once again to be kept up on any new developments, Sister Agatha walked back toward the parlor.

  Before she
reached the steps, Sister Jo came out the door. “Reverend Mother wants to speak to you.”

  “Has something happened?” Sister Agatha asked, quickening her pace.

  “I don’t know. That’s all I was told.”

  Sister Agatha hurried inside, wishing that she had something encouraging to report.

  9

  REVEREND MOTHER LISTENED TO SISTER AGATHA’S REPORT, absently rubbing the simple wedding band that identified her as a Bride of Christ. “To what extent has our safety been compromised?”

  “I don’t think we’re in any greater danger than before, Mother,” she answered carefully. “We were already threatened once. This is a repeat of the same.”

  Reverend Mother nodded, lost in thought. “I have new orders for all our externs. Whenever possible I’d like you to travel in pairs when you leave our grounds. And, Sister Agatha, I’d prefer you stop using the motorcycle altogether. It makes you too vulnerable. From now on, use the station wagon unless, of course, you have no other choice.”

  “Mother, the problem is that the wagon costs a lot more to run and maintain. The gasoline alone…well, that car burns up fuel like a jumbo jet.”

  “God will provide for us, whatever our needs,” she said firmly.

  Realizing that Reverend Mother’s mind was made up, Sister Agatha nodded. “All right, Mother.”

  Sister Agatha left Mother’s office and headed directly to the parlor. Sister Jo was there behind the desk, hanging up the phone. “I’m glad you’re here, Sister Agatha. That was the principal at St. Charles. He found someone more qualified to cover the class I was supposed to teach earlier today, but he needs me now to supervise their girls’ after-school soccer match. Their coach has had to leave on an emergency. Could you give me a ride? I have to be there in about thirty minutes. Oh, and I guess I’ll also need someone to take over parlor duty for me,” she added as an afterthought.

  “Let me go find Sister Bernarda,” Sister Agatha said.

  Sister Bernarda was in the chapel. Sister Agatha signaled her silently, and they stepped out into the hall. Sister Agatha then told her about Reverend Mother’s new orders and Sister Jo’s assignment.

  “I was scheduled to pick up a shipment of sacramental wine from the winery this afternoon,” Sister Bernarda said. “I need the station wagon for that, so why don’t you both ride with me?”

  Sister Agatha nodded. As part owners of the winery next door, the monastery nuns had accepted the job of delivering sacramental wine to the area parishes.

  Not long afterward, they set out, Sister Bernarda behind the wheel of the Antichrysler. Sister de Lourdes had remained behind to take Sister Jo’s place as portress.

  “We’ll pick up the cases of sacramental wine from Luz del Cielo first, then head over to St. Charles,” Sister Agatha told Sister Jo.

  “That’s fine.”

  Luz del Cielo Vineyard and Winery was a large estate with a long, winding driveway. As they drove up to the main structure, an old Spanish-style villa with a red tile roof, Sister Agatha saw crews working the vineyard.

  The Antichrysler backfired loudly, and Eric Barclay looked up from the vine he’d been grooming. Waving, he hurried over to meet them.

  “Just four cases today, Sisters,” he said, then signaled one of his men to help load the back of the wagon.

  Sister Bernarda and Sister Jo stayed with the Antichrysler, supervising, while Sister Agatha stood a few feet away with Eric.

  “How are things going at the monastery?” he asked her in a low voice. “I’ve been worried about all of you. I see you haven’t had time to even get rid of the threat that’s scratched on your car door.” He pointed to the message, which they hadn’t thought to cover. “It was all over last night’s TV news.”

  “We’re all being extra careful, and the sheriff’s keeping an eye on us, too.”

  “Aren’t you afraid to be out and about?”

  She shook her head. “We’ll face this just as we have all the other challenges that have come our way—by relying on God,” Sister Agatha told him firmly. It was the best answer she could give. “But there’s something I’d like to ask. A little after noon today, someone here on the vineyard side threw a box over the wall. There was a very disturbing message inside it. Any idea who might have done that?”

  “A deputy has already asked me about it. The problem is that I’ve had to hire extra laborers recently to get the vines ready for the growing season. There are several new workers here. I’ve asked around, but I haven’t got anything to report.”

  “If any of your men show a particular interest in our monastery, I’d like to know right away, and so would the sheriff.”

  “No problem, but you’ve got me curious now. What was inside the box? The deputy didn’t say.”

  “Keep it to yourself?”

  “Of course.”

  Sister Agatha told him, and he whistled low. Pax’s ears suddenly pricked forward and he looked at Eric strangely.

  Eric smiled. “Sorry, Pax.” He glanced back at Sister Agatha, then added, “I’ll keep my eyes and ears open. I won’t forget the debt my daughter and I owe you. You’re the reason this vineyard is still doing business.”

  “You don’t owe us anything. You made us your business partners, and that’s more than we ever expected. We’re very grateful, but we would appreciate any help you can give us with this other matter.”

  “You’ve got it, Sister.”

  Once the cases of wine were loaded and the paperwork signed, the sisters were on their way. The drive to St. Charles School took less than fifteen minutes. As they neared the grounds, they saw kids in uniform warming up on the soccer field.

  “We’ll drop you off, deliver the wine, then come back and pick you up, Sister Jo. If the match isn’t over, we’ll wait,” Sister Bernarda said.

  “Thanks,” Sister Jo responded. After giving Pax a quick hug, she climbed out of the station wagon and jogged toward the grass field.

  As they headed out of town, Sister Agatha studied her aching hands. Her joints were swollen today and hurt like crazy. “I won’t be of much use to you unloading the wine, so when we get to San Rafael, do you mind if I go talk to the workers? They’ve got a crew plastering the wall.”

  “Go right ahead. I’ll concentrate on the delivery,” Sister Bernarda answered.

  “Thank you, Your Charity.”

  San Rafael Church was an old New Mexican-style church with two small white bell towers, only one of them finished. The church, formerly in a rural area, had been absorbed into the urban sprawl on the northern outskirts of Albuquerque.

  It was only a bit past four, but the crew was already calling it a day, cleaning their tools and policing the work area. Sister Agatha wandered over casually, and before long she spotted Juanita. The young woman was an enjarradora—a specialist in the art of enjarrando, the craft of plastering with adobe. Juanita had been one of the experts who’d worked on the wall that encircled the monastery.

  “Sister Agatha,” she greeted. “I heard the news about the murder. I hope the sisters are getting through that okay. It’s got to be hard on them.”

  “Do folks think that visiting our monastery is too dangerous now?” Sister Agatha asked.

  She nodded. “A lady got robbed and killed there. It doesn’t get worse than that. I keep saying that there’s no proof the monastery is dangerous. For all we know, Mrs. Sanchez cut off the wrong guy in traffic on the way to church, so he followed and shot her. But most people don’t care about the reason. All they know is that someone was killed there, and the killer’s still at large.”

  Sister Agatha waited while Juanita took a long drink of water from a small bottle she’d attached to her tool belt.

  “Have you heard any other theories about Jane Sanchez’s murder?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “Not me, no. But Dolly Wheeler could probably give you an earful of them. Do you know her?”

  Sister Agatha thought about it and then finally shook her head. “The name doesn’
t sound familiar.”

  “She and Evelyn, Jane’s daughter, were tight at one time—maybe still are. If anyone knows some serious behind-the-scenes type of stuff, like who might have had it in for Jane, it’ll be Dolly.”

  Sister Agatha and Pax rejoined Sister Bernarda moments later. “Do you know Dolly Wheeler?”

  “Sure.” Sister Bernarda said as they climbed back into the Antichrysler. “She works at St. Charles. She’s Mrs. Harper’s, the new principal’s, administrative assistant.”

  Sister Agatha pictured the office staff one by one, but Dolly Wheeler’s face remained a mystery. “When we get to school, I’m going to the office. I’d like to meet Dolly and ask her a few questions.”

  “Good luck with that. Dolly’s an irritating woman.”

  “You’ve dealt with her before?”

  “Yes, during last year’s Fall Festival I helped her run the school’s booth at the fair,” Sister Bernarda said. “She’s the kind who complains about everything.”

  Sister Agatha said a prayer, asking to find a way to approach Dolly, one that would enable her to get her cooperation.

  They arrived at the school about a half hour later, slowed by commuter traffic heading out of the metropolitan area, and parked in a space beside the big trash bins across from the soccer field. From there, they could see Sister Jo striding back and forth down the sideline, coaching the girls and shouting encouragement.

  “She’s a natural leader,” Sister Agatha said, climbing out of the passenger’s side. She then opened the back door to let Pax out and quickly attached his leash.

  “The kids are crazy about her,” Sister Bernarda said, smiling as they walked along the sidewalk toward the main entrance. A few feet from the door, she stopped. “I think you’ll have a better chance with Dolly if I stay out here and watch the game.”

  “Sister Jo can use some help,” Sister Agatha said, remembering that they’d agreed to keep an extra pair of eyes on the new addition to Our Lady of Hope.