Bad Faith

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  As the monastery’s bells chimed in the distance, calling the nuns for None, the canonical hour that commemorated the ninth hour when Christ died, Sister Agatha said a brief prayer—for herself, for Father Anselm, and for the monastery.

  23

  Sister sat across from Sheriff Green as she told him everything. Fortunately, their luck had held and the rain had been marginal. A team was searching the site as they spoke, but the sheriff had sent them in a borrowed utility vehicle, and they had been ordered to keep a low profile to avoid attracting any attention from the monastery. The bottle she’d brought in had now been tagged and labeled and it was on its way to the state crime lab.

  “We’ll process the dropper bottle for prints and have what’s left of the liquid analyzed,” he said.

  “I really don’t think we should wait for the results. I’m sure that Frank Walters and Mary Lazarus are behind what’s happened, and I don’t think they’re going to stick around forever.”

  “If Mary Lazarus wants to leave the monastery, why doesn’t she just go?” Tom asked, trying to understand everything she’d told him.

  “Look at it from her perspective. She’s devoted several years of her life to the monastery, and now she has realized it’s just not for her. She may feel her years with us should be worth something, and that we owe her. She’s essentially penniless now. But, most important of all, I believe she really loves Frank. He’s desperately in need of money and I think the temptation the manuscripts posed became too much for her to resist. Women have done worse things than steal in the name of love, and remember, they never intended to kill anyone.”

  “So you think Frank and Mary Lazarus formed an alliance in order to steal the manuscripts?”

  “Yes, I do. It’s the only thing that makes sense. What else does our monastery have that’s worth so much money? I realize I have little proof, but the bottle we found may change that. The case against Mary Lazarus and Frank is already far stronger than any case you had against Celia, and you were ready to arrest her. What I need now is for you to help me protect the monastery and make sure neither she nor Frank do any more damage. I have a plan that might work, but let me go talk to Reverend Mother first before I share it with you. I have to run it past her because this directly involves the monastery.” She stood to leave, reaching into her pocket for the keys to the Harley.

  “Okay, though I won’t commit myself until I hear your plan in detail. But before you go, there’s something I need to tell you—something you have a right to know.” He paused, avoiding her gaze and looking decidedly uncomfortable. “You had someone shove a note in your pocket during the Fourth of July fair, didn’t you?”

  “Yes, but how did you know that?” she asked surprised.

  “It was Gloria,” he said, exhaling softly.

  “Your wife? But why?”

  He took a deep breath. “She was also the person who followed you in the sedan. I put a stop to that as soon as I found out, but I learned about the note yesterday during our session with a marriage counselor. I thought I’d better let you know and assure you that she won’t be bothering you again. She’s really sorry about all that, and so am I.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t get it.”

  Tom met her gaze. “To her, you’ve always been a threat. She’s very possessive of me, and when she found out that we were working together, she couldn’t handle it.” He paused for several moments. “Gloria is a good woman, but she’s never quite realized that I love her. We have some issues of trust to work out and my job doesn’t help. I’m away at all hours of the day and night. But we’re working things out. What we have is real, you know? I would never leave her.”

  “I’m very glad to hear that. You have a family to protect, Tom. I’ll ask the sisters to pray for you and Gloria, and I’ll start a novena for both of you myself.”

  “Does that mean you’ll forgive me and her for what’s happened? I know I should have told you …”

  “Don’t give it another thought. The matter is forgiven and behind all of us now.”

  “Thanks,” he answered. Before he could say anything else, one of the deputies called him from inside the building. “I better go.”

  Moments later, she and Pax were under way. As they left the station behind them, Sister Agatha thought about what Tom had said about his life—and his love for his family. She felt the same way about the sisters and their monastery. Both of them had been led down the right path. Each of them were where they belonged.

  She headed home, feeling at peace with herself and God.

  Forty minutes later, she sat in Reverend Mother’s office. The abbess looked tired and somber.

  “Is there any chance you’re wrong about Sister Mary Lazarus?”

  “A chance, yes, but not a big one, Mother. For the first time, the pieces all fit together.”

  The abbess considered the matter for several minutes before looking up again. “We’ll go with your plan, then. This has to be settled once and for all.”

  Bowing her head, Sister Agatha hurried out of Mother’s office and down the hall. She had to make a call to an old friend now, but it was imperative that no one overhear her.

  As she passed the scriptorium, she saw Mary Lazarus scanning one of the valuable manuscripts using the thin white gloves that would protect the original. Sister Gertrude was right beside her as she worked.

  She smiled, thinking that Mary Lazarus had finally gotten what she’d wanted, only not quite in the way she’d wanted it

  When she entered the parlor a moment later, Sister Ber-narda looked up at her hopefully. “Can you take over for me, Sister Agatha? I’ve left Sister Gertrude in charge of the scriptorium, but I’ve been wanting to go and check on things there.”

  “Go, Your Charity. I’ll handle things here.” As a matter of fact, that was just what she’d been hoping for, privacy to make a phone call.

  Once she was alone, Sister Agatha picked up the phone and dialed an old friend, the librarian at the university li-brary’s special collections room. It was time to set her plan in motion. The scriptorium had done work for her on several occasions, and over the years, Louise Knight and she had become friends.

  Shortly after Vespers, Sister Agatha met with Sister Bemarda and filled her in on the details of her emerging plan.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  “It’s the only way,” Sister Agatha answered.

  “All right then. Collation is taken in silence except for the readings, but we’ll have plenty of time to publicize the manuscript’s arrival after that during recreation.”

  “Reverend Mother will help, too. I believe she plans to make an announcement after dinner.”

  “Are you sure you’re up to the rest?”

  She nodded. “The critical part of this plan is going to take Oscar-winning acting skills. I hope I can pull it off. The part that I really hate is that I know I’ll be worrying some of the older nuns. I wish there was some way for me to avoid that.”

  “Could they be told ahead of time?”

  She shook her head. “It’s possible their reactions might not be credible then,” she said sadly, “and we can’t take a chance Mary Lazarus will catch on.”

  “Then let’s get on with it. I want the monastery back the way it was before all this happened. I miss the peace, you know?”

  “I sure do,” Sister Agatha nodded.

  They walked in silence to the refectory and ate as the reader read a selection from Thomas Merton, and then the martyrology.

  As the meal came to an end, Reverend Mother made the announcement that their monastery had been entrusted with the original Ben Hur manuscript, written by Lew Wallace in 1880 while he was governor of New Mexico. Work scanning it into digital format would begin the following morning and continue nonstop until the entire manuscript was scanned. The work would have to be done in one day, but would bring in a handsome fee from the state library.

  Sister Bernarda elaborated, explaining that their monaste
ry had been selected from among several private companies who’d competed for the honor of working on that manuscript. Our Lady of Hope’s reputation for accuracy and careful handling of fragile documents had won them the job.

  As they went to recreation, Sister Agatha kept close tabs on Mary Lazarus. She had no doubt that the news had gotten her attention. What they’d seemingly presented her with was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  Seeing a car drive up, Sister Agatha went out to open the monastery gate and greet Louise Knight. Aware that the other nuns were watching her, she made a big deal out of receiving the manuscript and then hurried with Louise into the parlor.

  “I really appreciate this, Louise,” Sister Agatha said.

  “No problem, but I want to hear the whole story as soon as you can talk.”

  “You’ve got it.”

  After seeing Louise out, and locking the gate behind her, Sister Agatha locked up the parlor. She then walked outside and met Sister Bernarda, Mary Lazarus, and Celia. “I hate to take you all away from recreation, but I need your help. For the work on the manuscript to be finished on time, we’ll all have to take turns working on it in shifts.”

  She led them to the scriptorium, then set the manuscript down so they could all see it. “It’s fragile—not to mention one of a kind.”

  According to plan, Sister Agatha picked it up again and carried it to her carrel. “I’ll set up the computer and get things started. Mary Lazarus, your shift will begin after Compline and end at midnight. Celia, you’ll follow for four hours, then Sister Bernarda will take over for you. I’ll take the shift after that. We’ll rotate often so we can stay alert and get it done. Of course if either of you have any problems, come get Sister Bernarda or me immediately. Are we all agreed?”

  Before they could answer, Sister Agatha sat down heavily and took several deep breaths.

  “Are you all right?” Sister Bernarda asked, playing along.

  “Yes … No, not really. My chest feels tight—” She doubled up, feigning a heart attack. Having seen two elderly nuns who’d died of heart failure, she was pretty confident she’d faked the symptoms well.

  Reverend Mother came in then, having heard the commotion. She immediately began helping Sister Bernarda.

  “We have to take her to the infirmary,” she said quickly.

  Sister Bernarda glanced at Sister Mary Lazarus and Celia. “Put the manuscript into the safe and then lock it,” she ordered.

  As they made their way down the hall, Sister Agatha caught a glimpse of Sister Gertrude’s face and saw her mouthing Hail Mary’s through trembling lips.

  “Sister, don’t worry,” Sister Agatha said, unable to stand the look on her face. “It’s just the new medication I’m taking. I think I took the wrong dose. I’ll be fine. My heart is beating overtime, but it’s strong.” At least that latter part was true.

  Once in the infirmary, Sister Eugenia was waiting. She’d made a bed ready, and now took over for the others. Sister Bernarda quickly ushered Sister Gertrude back out, reassuring her all the way and then closed the door behind them.

  “You’ve been told what’s going on, I hope, Sister Eugenia?” Sister Agatha whispered.

  She nodded. “But I must say you were so convincing I was worried you were really ill.”

  Reverend Mother looked toward the door then back at Sister Agatha. “And now we wait?”

  Sister Agatha nodded, then looked at Sister Eugenia. “It’s very important that the nuns believe I’m here, so the door will have to remain closed and no one must be allowed to come in—unless of course there’s an emergency.”

  “I’ll handle it, rest assured, Your Charity.”

  As the bells for Compline rang, the nuns left to join the others in the chapel. Sister Eugenia had agreed to recite the Divine Office from her post in the infirmary, to make sure everything went according to plan.

  After the nuns were inside the chapel and their chant filled the corridors, Sister Agatha slipped out of the infirmary and hurried to the scriptorium. Once there, she took a position between Sister Bernarda’s carrel and the large armoire where they kept all the scriptorium supplies, such as paper, toner, and storage media. As soon as the lights were turned off, only moonlight filtering through the windows illuminated the room. The black serge habit was an enormous advantage, helping her blend with the darkness.

  After Compline ended, Sister Bernarda returned with Mary Lazarus, took the manuscript out of the safe, then with a nod left Mary Lazarus alone to work.

  Then, to Sister Agatha’s surprise, Pax came into the scriptorium, looking for her. For some reason, she’d forgotten to factor him into her plan! She froze in place, hoping he’d simply go to her cell and wait. He sometimes did that when he couldn’t find her at night. But in a heartbeat Sister Bernarda appeared and, grabbing him by the collar, led him away.

  Mary Lazarus waited at her carrel until the nuns had retreated down the hall to their cells. Then, silently, she hurried down the hall.

  Sister Agatha moved quickly to the door and saw Mary Lazarus going into the parlor. Moving forward quietly, she heard the novice making a call.

  Sister Agatha didn’t wait. She’d heard Mary Lazarus mention Frank’s name and that was enough. She now knew that Mary Lazarus had taken the bait. Hurrying, she went back to her hiding place.

  Moments later, Mary Lazarus came in, picked up the bound manuscript, and walked out of the scriptorium.

  Sister Agatha followed her as she made her way to the kitchen. The problem with the Great Silence was that there was no other noise to mask the sounds of her own movements. She held on tightly to her rosary so the beads wouldn’t click as she walked, and gave thanks that she didn’t have to follow closely, knowing already where the thief was headed.

  Sister Mary Lazarus suddenly stopped by the basement door and turned her head, looking behind her, waiting and listening. Sister Agatha ducked back into the shadows and stayed impossibly still, holding her breath until she heard the novice open the squeaky door and go downstairs.

  As soon as the novice disappeared from her view, Sister Agatha hurried forward. Then, making sure not to touch the already open door and risk another squeak, she slipped in. She felt her way step by step down the stairs, using the dim moonlight washing through the kitchen windows above her to light her way.

  As she reached the bottom, she ducked back behind a support beam and watched Mary Lazarus switch on a small flashlight she’d taken from the shelf. Holding the manuscript and flashlight under one arm, she pressed two bricks in the wall at the same time. With a soft swooshing sound, the wall swung out a few inches.

  Sister Agatha could see only darkness beyond the opening, but the subtle breeze that came through and filled the basement attested to the presence of a passageway.

  Sister Mary Lazarus stepped into the opening and disappeared from view. A moment later, the wall closed behind her.

  24

  By the time Sister Agatha reached the wall, the opening had completely vanished.

  Sister Agatha reached into her pocket for the small flashlight she’d brought along, then touched the same bricks she’d seen Mary Lazarus press. As soon as she did, a portion of the brick wall opened. Quickly, she switched off her own flashlight, and stepped through the opening.

  Inside, Sister Agatha realized she was standing in a six-foot-high tunnel carved from the earth and shored up by railroad ties. She hugged the wall, taking one sideways step at a time and trying to be as silent as death itself. For a moment all she saw was Mary Lazarus standing twenty feet inside the tunnel with her flashlight, then she heard the sound of heavy footsteps.

  “It’s about time, Frank,” Mary Lazarus said, as the tall businessman appeared in the beam of her flashlight from farther down the tunnel. If Frank had a flashlight, it wasn’t on.

  Mary Lazarus joined up with Frank, who was forced to walk with his head ducked slightly, and handed him the thick Ben Hur manuscript. “Here. This is my ticket out. Now let’s go. I
hope I never see this place again.”

  “That’s one thing you can count on.” Sheriff Green’s voice boomed out, as a bright light appeared from behind Frank, illuminating him and Mary Lazarus.

  Frank reacted instantly. Swinging Mary Lazarus around to face Tom and using her as a shield, he pulled out a small pistol.

  “Drop your gun, Sheriff, or I’ll shoot her. I swear.”

  “Don’t get excited, Frank. If I drop my weapon, it could go off accidentally and injure someone. I’m going to place it back in the holster,” he said.

  Frank released Mary Lazarus then, and she backed away from him.

  Sister Agatha crept forward, wondering if she could get close enough to conk Frank in the head with her flashlight— or if she should even try.

  Annoyed that the sheriff was once again shining the beam of his flashlight into his eyes, Frank waved his pistol at him. “Shine that light on your pistol, Sheriff, so I can see that it remains in the holster. Otherwise, I’ll assume you’re pulling something and start shooting.”

  In that split second while Frank’s attention was on Tom, Sister Agatha stepped up and grabbed Mary Lazarus by the arm, yanking her out of the line of fire.

  Mary Lazarus yelped and Frank spun around. Seeing it was Sister Agatha, he pointed the gun at her chest.

  Suddenly a white streak came flying past Tom Green.

  Pax clamped down on Frank’s gun arm with his jaws, swinging them both around in the narrow space from the momentum of the attack. Frank howled, bounced off the side of the tunnel, and dropped his gun on the ground.

  Sister Agatha let go of Mary Lazarus and scooped up the pistol, jumping back out of Frank’s reach as he tried to regain his footing and ward off Pax, who was holding on to him with a death grip.

  Tom Green stepped up just then, his gun back in his hand and his flashlight illuminating the tunnel. “Rex, out!” he ordered sharply.