by Aimée Thurlo
They’d brought the cell phone, so while Sister Bernarda drove, Sister Agatha told Sheriff Green what she’d learned.
“The information about the memo pads is definitely interesting,” he said, “but it’s the kind of negative evidence that doesn’t really prove anything. What I’m going to do now is send an officer over there to check out their phone and pick up that extra connection.”
Sister Agatha’s and Sister Bernarda’s next stop was the pharmacy. While Sister Bernarda waited for their order to be filled, Sister Agatha went to talk to the clerk stocking the shelves. Silvia Pike had attended St. Charles, and Sister Agatha remembered her well. She’d been devout but had also been a relentless gossip. These days Silvia had become a good source, since her information always proved reliable.
When Sister Agatha greeted her, Silvia’s eyes grew bright and she smiled. “Sister Agatha, it’s so good to see you again! I loved reading that newspaper article in the Chronicle last year about how you helped the sheriff catch a killer. I bet you’ve got your hands full now, too, with everyone wondering if it’s safe to go to Mass with a robber and killer hanging around. Have you received any more threats?”
“We have police protection at the monastery now,” Sister Agatha said, not answering her directly. “Tell me, did you know the victim?”
“Jane? Sure, she used to come in here all the time,” she said, barely taking a breath. “Louis, too. I don’t recall ever seeing them apart.”
Except on Sunday, Sister Agatha added silently. “She didn’t trust him, or vice versa?” she probed gently.
“Ah, you must have heard the rumor about his neighbor. Well, don’t believe it. Jane would have known if something had been going on. Anyway, Louis isn’t the kind to stray. He allowed himself to be led around because he really did love Jane. That’s my take on it.”
“How do you think the rumor got started, then?” Sister Agatha asked.
“I’m not really sure, but you could ask Betty Malone. She’s one of Louis’s neighbors, and that woman doesn’t miss much. She’s the president of their neighborhood watch association for a reason.”
Sister Agatha made a mental note to pay Betty a visit. “How well do you know Louis, Silvia?”
“Just enough to say hello whenever he came in with Jane. But I’ve been friends with their daughter, Evelyn, for years. Evelyn hated Jane. She wasn’t even on speaking terms with her half the time. I’ve got to tell you,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning closer to Sister Agatha, “if Evelyn had discovered that her dad was having an affair, she would have jumped for joy.”
That was certainly an interesting perspective. “Why did Evelyn hate Jane so much? Do you know?” Sister Agatha asked, already knowing that the adoption had been an issue of contention.
“All I can tell you is that I saw firsthand how controlling Jane was back when Ev and I were still in high school. I particularly remember one shouting match out in their front yard. The whole neighborhood must have heard that one. Ev had come home an hour later than her curfew, and Jane went through the roof. She told Ev that she was behaving like a slut and she regretted the day she’d adopted her. What made it even worse is that we were there—me and Allison Williams.”
“Do you know if Jane really felt that way?”
“I always thought the real issue was that Evelyn was growing up and trying to become a little more independent. But that kind of argument was nothing in comparison to what came later, after Evelyn married Gerry.”
“What happened then?”
“Jane did everything she could to try to break them up. Gerry doesn’t take lip from anyone, so from day one he argued right back. Things never got any better. Jane would start with the bad-mouthing the second she saw them, telling Evelyn that she’d married a total loser.”
“But surely Jane accepted him once the couple had their daughter, right?”
“Didn’t seem like it to me, Sister. Just last week, maybe Tuesday, Jane and Louis came here to the drugstore, and she was dissing Gerry to him. Louis looked really embarrassed because he knew I could hear, but Jane just kept running Gerry down. She insisted that Gerry was cheating on Evelyn.”
Seeing Sister Bernarda was through at the counter, Sister Agatha knew it was time to go. “It was good talking to you, Silvia,” she said, meaning every word.
Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda hurried back out to the Antichrysler. It was a beautiful, cool, spring day, so Pax had waited for them with all the windows rolled down, under the shade of the store awning. Once they were on their way, he stuck his head out, loving the blast of air that hit his face as they traveled back to the monastery.
“If Jane thought Gerry was messing around, that could have been what she wanted to talk to me about,” Sister Agatha told Sister Bernarda on their way home. “The problem with gossip is that I don’t have any evidence to back it up, and the sheriff is going to need more than hearsay.”
“You should probably still tell the sheriff so he can follow it up if he feels it necessary, don’t you think?”
Sister Agatha nodded, then brought out the cell phone and made the call.
Twenty minutes later, they were back home with the medications. Pax had gone into the inner courtyard to play alone with his favorite rope toy, tossing it into the air or shaking it.
While Sister Bernarda met with Sister Eugenia, Sister Agatha stopped by the chapel to pray for guidance. Turning to the Lord, she placed the matter in His hands, then, with all the love in her heart, focused solely on Him.
Sister Agatha came back out of the chapel some time later, her spirit renewed, and headed to the parlor. She was halfway down the hall when she saw Sister Bernarda hurrying to meet her.
“Have you seen Pax?” Sister Bernarda asked quickly.
“Not since we returned. He went outside to play with his rope, remember?”
“Sister Clothilde had a treat for him, but she couldn’t find the old guy anywhere.”
Alarmed, Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda went to the parlor, where they found Sister de Lourdes.
“Have you seen Pax?” Sister Agatha asked her quickly.
“Yes, he went with Sister Jo in the Harley. She got a call from a Mr. Stevens, who asked why he hadn’t received his lunch today. So she got the address, made up another meal, then took off with it immediately.”
“Mr. Stevens? We’ve never delivered to someone with that name, have we?” Sister Bernarda asked.
“Maybe he’s new,” Sister Agatha suggested.
“That’s what Sister Jo concluded, too,” Sister de Lourdes said. “She was upset about anyone missing a meal, so she left in a hurry. Since she couldn’t find the car keys, she took the bike.”
Sister Bernarda reached into her pocket and brought out the keys. “Oops. My fault.”
“I’m curious about this delivery. Would you call St. Augustine’s and have them verify the name, Sister de Lourdes?” Sister Agatha asked.
After a minute on the line, it became obvious that there was no Mr. Stevens on the list.
“She’s been set up,” Sister Agatha said, her voice rising in fear. “Any idea where she was going?”
“She repeated it aloud as she wrote it down. It’s 800 something Calle de Elena,” Sister de Lourdes replied.
“That’s less than five miles from here. Let’s take the Antichrysler and see if we can catch up to her,” Sister Agatha said to Sister Bernarda. She turned back to Sister de Lourdes. “Call the sheriff and tell him what’s happening.” Sister de Lourdes nodded and picked up the telephone.
“Let’s go,” Sister Bernarda said, leading the way to the door. “I’m the one who forgot to put the keys back, so I’m driving.”
Sister Agatha’s heart was hammering against her rib cage as they passed through the monastery gates. Sister Bernarda at the wheel, they traveled as quickly as they could down the dirt road, heading for the highway. The car backfired in protest, a common event that they’d learned to ignore.
When the c
ell phone rang, Sister Agatha grabbed it instantly. It was the sheriff. “I ran the address on our database. There’s no 800 block of Calle de Elena. It only goes up to 700. I don’t have a deputy in that area, but I’m sending one to check out the entire neighborhood.”
“It could have been just a crank call, but then again, it might be more serious than that. What should we do?” she asked Tom. “She doesn’t have the cell phone, so I can’t call to let her know she’s been tricked.”
“Limit your search to the roads leading away from your own neighborhood,” he said. “I’ll work the area from Calle de Elena toward the monastery. Call if you spot the Harley.”
“Thanks, Tom, and you do the same. At least she has Pax with her.”
“That’s very good news.”
Sister Agatha kept praying and searching while Sister Bernarda drove slowly down the gravel road, checking at each side road for tracks or a dust trail. Suddenly, catching a faint roar in the distance, Sister Agatha sat up.
“Slow down to a crawl,” she said. “I could have sworn I heard that ‘potato potato’ rumble of the Harley.”
“There!” Sister Bernarda said, pointing. Through gaps in the trees and the undergrowth they could see flashes of the red and white Harley. It was on the other side of the irrigation ditch, closer to the river, going in the same direction they were, but on a parallel road.
“It looks like she’s heading back to the monastery,” Sister Bernarda said, “but she sure took the long way.”
“She might have taken the left turn after the winery instead of the right,” Sister Agatha said. “We should be able to catch up to her at the bridge.”
Although Sister Bernarda sped up, causing another backfire, the Harley got there first and drove on through the intersection. Recognizing the Antichrysler, Sister Jo came to a stop and waved at them. Pax barked happily.
“She’s safe.” Sister Agatha said, sighing.
The Harley accelerated on ahead. “Race you to the monastery!” Sister Jo called out.
Hearing the wail of a siren, Sister Bernarda pulled to the side to let the deputy go past them. Sister Agatha’s eyes widened a second later as Sister Jo was pulled over. “Rats! I forgot to tell the sheriff that we’d found Sister Jo.”
She picked up the cell phone and called in quickly. “No, it was our mistake. I’m very sorry,” Sister Agatha said, then explained. After apologizing to Tom again, she placed the phone down.
“He’s angry, and I can’t blame him. He pulled the deputy off monastery duty to help us search.”
“So the monastery was left unguarded because of us?”
“That’s the way it shapes up,” she said. As they pulled out into the road, she could see the deputy walking back from the cycle to his vehicle. “At least he’s going to be able to go back now.”
Sister Jo followed the deputy’s vehicle, and the Antichrysler brought up the rear. A short time later, as they drew close to the monastery, Sister Agatha saw the deputy’s department vehicle once again parked across the street from their entrance. They waved as they went by, and then continued up the monastery’s driveway.
Inside the open gates, Sister Bernarda parked next to the Harley. A second later, Sister Jo came out of the parlor, Pax at her side.
“Thanks for coming to check on me,” Sister Jo said. “I was stupid, falling for that fake Mr. Stevens’s call. Then I took the wrong turn after leaving the highway and had to come back the long way. At least I got the chance to try out the Harley. That’s sure one cool ride, Sisters!”
“Why didn’t you even attempt to find one of us? Sister Bernarda had the car keys. And are you licensed to operate a motorcycle?” Sister Agatha asked.
Sister Jo’s mouth fell open. “Well, no, but I knew how to drive it, and Mr. Stevens sounded so…disappointed. I figured there wouldn’t be any harm in taking the motorcycle on a quick delivery.”
“If you’d called St. Augustine’s and checked, you would have known it was a crank call,” Sister Agatha replied. “We were worried sick that you might have been lured into a trap by…you know.”
Sister Jo paled under Sister Agatha’s steady gaze. “A killer, like with Jane Sanchez? I didn’t think of that. I was just worried that some poor elderly man would go without his only hot meal of the day. But Our Lord must have been protecting me. On Calle de Elena I passed another deputy.”
“A deputy?” Her words sparked Sister Agatha’s curiosity—the sheriff had said there was no officer in the area. “What exactly did you see?”
“He was meeting some guy in a baseball cap. The man was holding a big envelope in his hand, too,” she said. “I didn’t get a close look at the deputy, so I can’t tell you who he was.”
“What happened then?” Sister Agatha asked, leading the way back into the parlor.
“Once I found out that the address I was looking for didn’t exist, I turned around and came right back to the monastery.”
Sister Agatha shook her head in frustration. “No, regarding the deputy’s meeting. What can you tell me about that?”
“Not much. As I said, I didn’t get a good look. All I noticed was that the deputy was tall and wearing his tan uniform and cap. Sunglasses, too.” She paused, then added, “Come to think of it, he had something in his hand, too…” She squinted, and a pensive look came over her face. “I think it may have been a camera.”
“Anything else?” Sister Agatha pressed, keeping her voice low since the portress was on the phone.
Sister Jo thought about it a moment, then finally shook her head. “I don’t think so. And I really am sorry if I worried you. It never occurred to me that I was being punked.”
“Punked?” Sister Bernarda asked.
“Scammed. Set up,” Sister Jo added in explanation.
“Welcome to the twenty-first century, Sister Bernarda,” Sister Agatha said, finally finding a reason to smile. Looking back at Sister Jo, she grew serious once again. “Okay, it’s over, but let’s all learn from this and not be fooled again. Keep in mind that we still don’t know the extent of the threat against us, but one woman has already died. One of us—maybe you—could be the next target.” Sister Agatha met Sister Jo’s gaze and held it.
“I’ll be more careful next time. I’ll make it up to both of you, too. What if I take a double shift as portress? How’s that?” she asked brightly.
Sister de Lourdes beamed Sister Agatha a hopeful smile.
“All right. Sister de Lourdes will be grateful for the help. One more thing—did you ever think to inform Reverend Mother that you’d left the monastery grounds?” Seeing Sister Jo shake her head, a mortified expression on her face, Sister Agatha continued. “An extern needs to get permission before leaving the grounds. That’s our rule, except in a grave emergency, of course.”
“I’ll tell Reverend Mother what happened right away,” Sister Jo said, then excused herself and left the parlor.
Sister Agatha stood by the window, looking back down the road, lost in thought. After a few minutes, Sister Bernarda cleared her throat. “Okay, what’s bothering you? Is it something to do with the meeting Sister Jo witnessed—the deputy and that civilian?”
“You read my mind,” she said, turning around. “Maybe it’s just my imagination working overtime, but I can come up with some interesting explanations for what she saw.”
“Like what?” Sister Bernarda pressed.
“What if it was Gerry Bennett paying off the person who murdered his mother-in-law, or maybe someone he enlisted to help with the logistics, like stealing Louis’s bike?”
“Then again, it could have been just another deputy receiving information from an informant,” Sister Bernarda countered. “Maybe the man in the baseball cap gave the deputy the envelope after Sister Jo went by. It could all have been perfectly legitimate.”
As the bells for the Angelus rang, Sister Agatha glanced at Sister Bernarda. “Let’s join the sisters at prayer. Then, after Sext and our meal at one, we’ll head back into town
and see what we can dig up.”
Closing up the parlor, they returned to the peacefulness of their cloister.
12
AFTER THEIR MEAL, REVEREND MOTHER APPROACHED Sister Agatha. “Follow me to my office, child.”
Moments later Sister Agatha sat down across from the abbess. She could see Reverend Mother was deeply troubled about something.
“This morning we received four crank calls and six disturbing e-mails,” Reverend Mother said at last. “Though they came from different locations and e-mail addresses, collectively they’re threatening to harm us—for no stated reasons. I reported these to the sheriff, and Sister de Lourdes sent copies of the e-mails to his computer. Sheriff Green said that it could all be the work of one person. The calls in particular seem to be so. Sister de Lourdes said that although the caller was trying to disguise his voice, he sounded pretty much the same each time.”
“E-mails from the same person can come in from multiple addresses, too,” Sister Agatha answered.
“Although the deputies will continue to watch our monastery, I’d like us to take all the precautions we can as well. That’s why I called you here. How much danger do you think we’re facing? We won’t close the monastery, of course, but we could send some of our sisters elsewhere until the crisis is past.”
Sister Agatha took a slow, deep breath, then let it out again. “Mother, I think we’re being manipulated. Sister Jo reported what happened to her over at St. Charles, and we’ve been the victims of vandalism and dirty tricks. But I think the real issue is Jane Sanchez’s murder. Whoever killed her is trying to confuse us and the sheriff.”
“So you believe that we’re in no danger?”
Sister Agatha paused for several seconds. “We can’t afford to assume we’re safe or that someone is just out to scare us. On the other hand, I just can’t figure out a motive for whatever’s going on, unless it has to do with Jane Sanchez.”