by Aimée Thurlo
“Our monastery has always been a place of safety, and our older sisters in particular are having a very difficult time coping. We need to put an end to this situation, child.” She stared at the statue of the Blessed Mother, then, at long last, added, “As of right now, you’ll have no other duties except helping the sheriff find out who killed Jane Sanchez.”
“Mother, if I may make one small request?”
“What is it, child?”
“I’d like to be able to travel to town alone during daytime hours whenever I need to do so. Seeing two of us together in the station wagon isn’t going to dissuade anyone who really wants to come after us. The Harley is much more practical, and, oddly enough, seeing me on the cycle makes people smile and puts them in a good mood. I’ve also noticed that I get more cooperation when I’m alone with Pax.”
Reverend Mother considered it, then nodded. “All right, but if any extern has to go into town after dusk, I still want you to travel in pairs. The rest of the time you may use the Harley—as long as you continue to take Pax along.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
“I also wanted to thank you for going to check on Sister Jo. Some of what happened wasn’t her fault, but I’m glad you reminded her of our rules. Now that I’ve spoken to her, I’m sure we’ll never have another incident like that again.”
Sister Agatha left Reverend Mother’s office and went directly to the parlor. Sister Bernarda was behind the desk just hanging up the phone as she came in.
“I’ll be taking the Harley and running the errands in town with Pax this afternoon. Mother’s okay with that,” Sister Agatha said.
Sister Bernarda nodded in approval. “Pax is the best second you could have. Between his running speed and those huge teeth, he can do far more to protect you than I could.”
Sister Agatha laughed and realized she hadn’t done that in several days. It felt good. “Give me the list of afternoon errands that need to be done. I’ll take care of those while I’m in town and be back as soon as possible.”
Sister Bernarda handed her a sheet of paper, and Sister Agatha studied it for a moment. “Onion sets, drippers, hose, connectors, and other irrigation supplies. I should have room in the sidecar for this. These are for the drip system Sister Jo has drawn up for us?”
“She claims it’ll save us a lot of water, even if we just use it for the roses and other perennials. We can do the work ourselves, and the materials are cheap,” Sister Bernarda said. “The nursery you suggested, Southwest Gardens, carries everything we need.”
“I was hoping it would. That’s the place where Jane Sanchez worked. We’ve done business there before, and I know the owner.”
“You were hoping for a chance to go there on business so you could ask them about Jane?” Sister Bernarda asked.
“Yes,” Sister Agatha admitted.
“Go with courage and leave the rest to Him,” Sister Bernarda said resolutely.
“Amen to that.”
Sister Agatha was in the Harley with Pax a short time later. With his huge panting grin, Pax was enjoying the feel of the wind whipping past his face to the utmost. She, too, loved the sense of freedom that came from being on the Harley and always took time to thank the Lord for this blessing.
By the time Sister Agatha arrived at the nursery, the onion sets and other supplies were in a small cardboard box waiting for her. She paid for the order, then went to speak to the owner, Josh Douglas, about Jane.
After seeing to Pax, who would remain in the sidecar in the shade of a cottonwood tree, she went to find Josh. She found him out back beneath a shaded work area, transplanting seedlings into hand-painted clay pots. In his midsixties, Josh still led a very active life. He wasn’t the kind who’d ever even consider retirement, even though his years as a policeman were past.
“Hey, Sister Agatha. I’m sure glad you sisters have decided to go with a drip system. Saves a ton of water.”
“We have a new nun at Our Lady, and she’s helping bring our garden into the twenty-first century. So how’s business, Josh?”
“Fine, but maybe I should be asking you that question. Any news? I heard that the monastery also got some threats outta that.”
“It’s true, and I’m trying to help out,” she said with a nod. “The situation affects us directly.”
“I see your point,” he answered with a nod. “I’ve given some thought to what happened, and I’m satisfied that nothing about her work here was connected to the crime. Jane was our bookkeeper, which kept her away from the rest of the staff—a good thing, because she could be very controlling. But she was a great worker and always made us look good at the end of the year.”
“Did she ever talk to you about family or personal problems?”
“Of course she did. Jane was a gossip and had lots of issues with her daughter and son-in-law. Jane was sure he was cheating on Evelyn and was doing her best to catch him in the act. She’d even started bringing the car to work instead of having Louis drop her off so she could go find Gerry during her lunch hour and check on him. Those are hard facts, and exactly what I told the sheriff.”
“She sounds obsessed,” Sister Agatha said. “How’d that all work out for her?”
“I don’t know, but I do know that Jane came back from lunch one day last week acting really strange. I didn’t ask her about it because I really didn’t want to know.”
“Do you think she saw something that upset her?”
“Maybe, but if she’d seen Gerry messing around, I’m almost sure she would have said so. It was the kind of thing she’d want everyone to know. Jane really wanted to get Evelyn away from Gerry. She hated that guy.”
Sister Agatha shook her head, now realizing that her brief conversations with Jane after Mass had only shown her the tip of the iceberg. How could anyone so pious on Sunday become so bitter and hostile the rest of the week? “Obsession of any kind can take over your life.”
“I hated having to tell the sheriff any of this. I think it was Jane, not Gerry, who had the problem. Still, it gives Gerry a motive for wanting his mother-in-law out of his hair permanently. That’s not the kind of information I could withhold with a clear conscience.” He met her gaze. “Anyway, I know Tom Green won’t let this ruin his objectivity when it comes to Gerry Bennett.”
“It’s too soon to do much except gather information,” Sister Agatha assured him. “There are way too many possibilities and confusing clues to sift through.”
“Gerry’s argumentative and controlling, just like Jane was,” he said. “I know that from experience. In my book, that’s probably why they never got along. Gerry’s a tough guy, and he only shows his softer side around his daughter, Mary. I’ve seen him here with her, picking out flowers he was going to plant by her playhouse—one he built on his own. Anyone who sees that side of him would never forget it.”
“What you’re telling me is that Gerry’s hard to know and it works against him?”
Josh nodded. “My judgment as a retired cop—and a father to six children.”
Thanking him, Sister Agatha went back to the Harley. It was a beautiful afternoon and the perfect time to pay Betty Malone a visit. Ever since she’d spoken to Dolly, she’d been meaning to drop by Betty’s home.
Sister Agatha took a side road and arrived at Betty’s a short time later. Apparently having heard the motorcycle coming up the street, Betty had come out to meet her.
“You’ve got perfect timing, Sister. I just made some cheesecake, my favorite comfort food,” she added with a laugh.
Sitting in the kitchen moments later, Sister Agatha tasted Betty’s cheesecake and smiled. “This is wonderful!”
“Over the years, I’ve added a few things here and there. I’m glad you like it.”
Sister Agatha ate slowly, relishing every bite. Drenched in a semisweet sauce with cherries, it was truly decadent.
“So what brings you here?” Betty asked casually, taking small bites from a slice of plain cheesecake she’d cut for her
self.
“I wanted to ask you a few questions about the Sanchezes, but first I would ask that our conversation stay between us. Is that okay with you?”
“Sure. I’m an old hand at keeping things to myself. Never cared much for gossip, you know.”
“Neither do I, but right now I really need information, and you’re the best person I could think to ask.”
“Is this about Louis and Christy?” she asked with a long, heavy sigh.
“That, and other things. From your kitchen window you have quite a view of both Christy’s and Louis’s yards. What can you tell me about their relationship? Was there really more going on between them, as people keep hinting?”
Betty hesitated. “I understand why you’re asking, and I’ll help you, but from what I know about those two, the gossip is way off the mark. Mind you, I’ve seen plenty of signs that Christy might have a thing for Louis, but Louis would have never stepped out on Jane. Louis’s primary interest is food, not women. What got people talking is that Christy’s a lonely woman.”
“So you haven’t seen anything that might suggest there was something going on between her and Louis?” Sister Agatha asked quietly. “Or that it’s possible that Christy killed Jane—her competition?”
“No way,” she answered firmly. “That wouldn’t have gotten her anywhere, and she knew it. Jane and Louis loved each other, despite their differences.”
Sister Agatha nodded, understanding far more than Betty’s words had revealed. This was a quiet neighborhood, one where neighbors often stood together on issues. Despite the occasional disagreements, violence didn’t play a part in their lives.
“What do you know about Jane and her son-in-law? Did those two really hate each other that much?”
Betty nodded. “That part of the gossip is true. Jane would have done anything to break them up. The entire neighborhood knew that. It was one of the reasons Evelyn finally stopped coming by to see her parents. She hadn’t been by for at least a couple of months. Evelyn adores her father and really wanted him to get to know his granddaughter. With Jane gone, maybe what’s left of Louis’s family will get back together. It’s just very sad that this had to happen first.”
“We’ve been praying for all of them, and will continue to do so,” Sister Agatha said. “Thanks very much for your help, Betty. This will stay between us, don’t worry about that.” With a sheepish smile, Sister Agatha used her fingers to pick up a few crumbs of cheesecake still on her plate. “And thanks so much for sharing this wonderful dessert,” she said, licking what was left off her fingertips.
Betty smiled. “Would you like another slice for the road?”
Sister Agatha shook her head and smiled. “Thanks, but no. I’m full, so another slice would definitely come under the header ‘gluttony.’”
“I’m sure God will look the other way just this once,” Betty said with a twinkle in her eye. “You could also look at it as an act of charity. This old woman would love to know that her cheesecake’s all but irresistible.”
“In that case, who am I to disappoint?”
Betty placed a slice in a small plastic container, poured a generous portion of cherry sauce over it, then sealed the lid tightly. “There you go.”
Sister Agatha placed the container on the floor of the sidecar, anchoring it inside the coils of the irrigation hose. Pax looked at it longingly, then at her.
“Nothing doing, guy. That piece is for Reverend Mother. If there’s anyone who deserves a treat, it’s her. She’s had it rough these past few days.”
Sister Agatha and Pax were on the way back to the monastery minutes later. As she drove, she mentally reviewed everything she’d learned, trying to sort out the relevant and factual from the rest.
Glancing into the side mirror as she changed lanes, she noticed an old white van coming up quickly behind her. She pulled slightly to the right and cut back on the throttle, motioning with her left hand for the vehicle to pass her. Instead of passing, however, the van inched even closer.
Sister Agatha speeded up, trying to keep a safe distance between them, and took a good, hard look in the rearview mirror. The road vibration made it hard to see the driver’s face, who was sitting well back in his seat and wearing a hat and sunglasses.
Again she motioned the driver to pass, slowing and pulling way over to the right, nearly on the shoulder. This time he got the message and accelerated quickly, rocketing past her.
Then, without any warning, the van swerved into her lane.
“Look out!” she yelled.
Sister Agatha touched the brakes and pulled to the right as hard as she could without risking going head over heels. As they hit the soft ground near the ditch, the wheel of the sidecar holding Pax dug in and the bike pulled hard to the right. For a second she thought they were going to roll, but the rear end stayed put.
“Down!” she yelled to Pax, hoping he’d hear her and duck into the cockpit of the sidecar.
Fighting to remain in control of the Harley, Sister Agatha forced the handlebars back to the left, holding on with a death grip, more worried about hitting something than being able to stop. The soft ground slowed the bike quickly, but it was shaking and vibrating like a leaf in a windstorm.
Gritting her teeth, she held on, tapping the rear brake as much as she dared. The big Harley trembled and bounced as they barreled through knee-high grass and weeds.
Finally, in a thick cloud of dust, they slid to a stop just a few feet from the wire fence that lined the roadway. Looking toward the highway, she could see the rear end of the van that had forced them off the road racing away, picking up speed. It had a sign on the rear doors, but at this distance she couldn’t make out the lettering.
Whispering a prayer of heartfelt thanks that neither she nor Pax had been injured, she sat back on the saddle, taking deep breaths and trying to stop shaking. Pax was still flat on his stomach, but his head was turned toward her, and he was panting from excitement.
“I’ve got to report this driver to the sheriff right now, boy,” she said to Pax, turning off the engine.
As she reached up with trembling hands to remove her helmet—a cell phone call was impossible when the helmet covered her ears—she looked down the road and saw that the van had turned around and was racing back once again in their direction.
“He’s coming back. Lord, help us!”
She switched on the ignition and turned toward the road, her thoughts racing. If he was planning to sideswipe them, her best counter was to throw off his timing. Heart hammering, she waited, planning on sitting still, then accelerating forward, back toward the fence, at the last possible second.
As the van reached the center line, she revved up the engine, the bike now in gear.
Sister Agatha concentrated on watching the van’s front tires. The second they turned, she’d cut loose. But the van held its position.
She glanced back up at the driver’s face, hoping to get a good look at him, and suddenly realized that he was holding something big in his hand. A head…she could make out a face…and hair…Before she could complete the thought that was forming in her mind, he hurled it in her direction.
Sister Agatha ducked and prayed that the helmet would do its job and protect her from—whatever it was. A heartbeat later, something splattered against her visor, and she felt something warm and wet strike the back of her hand. The noxious smell nearly made her gag. She prayed that it hadn’t been brains escaping from a decaying, severed human head.
13
HER BREATH CAUGHT IN HER THROAT AS SHE SAW THE goo that was running down her visor, but at least it wasn’t blood or brains.
Forcing herself to swallow the panic that was making it hard for her to think straight, she looked around. That scent…she recognized it. It was overripe fruit. Then she saw the mess on the road ahead. The impact point held an overripe melon and what appeared to be a wig and a Halloween mask of a man’s face. Seeds, rind, and rotten pulp had splattered everywhere, including on the Harley
and herself.
The idiot in the van had set her up, placed a face mask over a rotten melon, then attached a wig to the top. With just a split second for her to see what was coming, he’d obviously hoped to scare her to death—and he’d almost succeeded.
The smell was getting worse. Pieces of overripe fruit had splattered her from head to foot, much of it sticking to her habit. Turning off the engine, she dismounted and brushed away the larger bits and pieces. In the process, some of the gooey slime smeared into the fabric, leaving a gleaming film. “Oh, yuck!”
Watching for traffic, she stepped out onto the road and picked up the wig. It was black and stringy—not counting the sliver of melon rind still attached by glue—and looked to her like the ones sold everywhere at Halloween. There wasn’t much hope of getting anything useful from it, but she still brought it back to the sidecar and dropped it inside. It was evidence. She also picked up the mask, the latex image of an ugly man, holding it by the elastic strap.
Pax, who’d escaped being slimed, was still lying down. He sniffed at the wig and mask, snorted, then looked up at her.
“Yeah, I know, they stink major league,” she said. “You can sit now, boy,” she added. “Just don’t mess with these goodies. They’re for the sheriff.”
After cleaning herself off as much as she could, finishing with her hands, she reached for the cell phone and got the sheriff on his private line seconds later. “I was just run off the road, Tom,” she said. She gave him the highlights of the incident.
“I have a deputy heading north out of town. If the van’s still in the area, he may be able to find it using the description you just gave me. In the meantime, drive back to Bernalillo, but go slow enough so you can get off the road if you have to. I want you here at the station so you can file an official report.”
By the time she reached the sheriff’s office, Tom was waiting. He was at the front talking to one of his deputies and, seeing her, came over immediately.
As they headed down the hall, Pax tugged at the leash, wanting to visit his friends in the bullpen. He knew he’d be able to mooch a doughnut or two there. Sister Agatha pulled him closer to her, but Tom just smiled.