Bad Faith (31 page)

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.

B
y 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.

The dog complied instantly, releasing Frank, but remaining in front of him, growling.

“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” the sheriff warned, reaching for his handcuffs with his free hand.

Less than ten seconds later, two deputies came up from the outside end of the tunnel and joined them. Sister Mary Lazarus was handcuffed as Sheriff Green turned Frank over to a deputy.

“Get them out of here the same way you came in,” Green said, then turned to Sister Agatha. “Are you okay?” he asked, taking Frank’s gun from her hand.

“Yeah,” she said in a thin voice. “I’m sure I’ll stop shaking real soon, too, like maybe around Christmas.”

Tom laughed. “You’ll be fine. You’re tough—for a nun.”

“All nuns are tough. Don’t you remember Catholic school?”

She’d started to walk out with him, but before they’d gone more than a few feet, he stopped in midstride and looked at her. “You’d be better off going back the way you came in. The weeds and thick brush around the concealed opening are pretty rough on the skin, and it’s tricky with all the goatheads and cockleburs there. I think Frank planted those himself to keep anyone from finding the end of the tunnel. If I hadn’t been watching him, I’d have never seen it myself.”

“How did you get Pax through them?” she asked.

He glanced down at the dog, who was by her side. “He’d apparently discovered his own way in—a narrow path he’d used before. I saw his prints all over the ground.”

“Looks like he had more than one way in and out of our monastery.”

“Go ahead and take him back with you now. He’s done a good day’s work as far as I’m concerned.”

“I’m glad you feel that way. Be sure to bring him a special treat next time you come see us.”

Tom laughed. “I’ll do that”

When Sister Agatha emerged from the tunnel into the basement with Pax—the wall opened with just a push—Reverend Mother was waiting, and now the light was on. Sister Agatha nodded reassuringly, letting Mother know everything was all right. Pax barked and wagged his tail. Mother looked at him sternly, then at Sister Agatha, and held up one finger to her lips signifying that the Great Silence was not to be broken now that the emergency was past. Smiling, she gave Sister Agatha a hug, and scratched Pax behind the ears vigorously. It was a welcome home, and a testament to the peace that had just been won. Their victory had come at a cost, but now they could all go on.

The following morning as the bells rang for Terce at eight, Sister Bernarda came to the parlor, but Sister Agatha was already there.

“Go join the sisters in chapel, Your Charity,” Sister Agatha said. “You’ve been portress almost exclusively for far too long without anyone to help you.”

“God reward you, Sister. It feels good to get back to our regular schedules,” Sister Bernarda said with a sigh. “Maybe now we can finally begin the process of healing.”

Sister Agatha looked down at the dog by her feet and smiled. “Some blessings came out of all that heartbreak and sorrow, too. It wasn’t all bad.”

Sister Bernarda watched her pensively. “You sound almost sorry that things will be returning to normal now.”

“No, that’s not it.” Sister Agatha took a deep breath. “It’s just that I’ll miss the challenges that come with investigative work. For a long time investigative reporting was my passion, you see.”

“It’s time to let go, Your Charity. We all need to get back to our lives and our duties here,” she said firmly.

After Sister Bernarda left, Sister Agatha picked up a rag and began dusting as she said her Pater Nosters. She loved their monastery and the company of the sisters and she loved God—above everything else. Although she’d had an exciting taste of her former life, it was now time to close that door. Bernarda was right. As the nuns’ voices rose in choir, an indescribable peace settled over her.

She’d just finished cleaning the parlor when she heard a knock at the door. Sister Agatha opened it, and saw Sheriff Tom Green standing on the stone steps. “Come in. What can we do for you today?” Although she knew the investigation was over, she couldn’t quite make herself stop hoping that, somehow, things would take a new and challenging turn that would require her involvement.

“I wanted to give Reverend Mother an update.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine. The investigation is now closed.”

She nodded. “All right. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get Mother.”

As the nuns came out of the chapel, Sister saw Reverend Mother walking down the hall and went to meet her halfway.

Sister Agatha quickly explained that the Sheriff was waiting in the parlor to speak to her. “He said the investigation is closed,” she added, not wanting her to worry.

“Praised be Jesus Christ,” Reverend Mother said, relief evident on her face.

“Now and forever,” Sister Agatha answered.

Reverend Mother went to the grille as Sister Agatha returned to the other side of the parlor where Tom was waiting.

“I wanted to update you,” Tom said, looking at Reverend Mother first, then Sister Agatha. “Anita Linney—the nun you knew as Sister Mary Lazarus—has made a full confession in exchange for reduced charges. She was about to leave the order, and got pulled into Frank’s scheme because she was in love. She felt it was the only way she had of holding on to him. He was almost broke after paying off his son’s gambling debts, and his business was losing money.”

“What about Frank?”

“He’s still not saying much. I think he’s hoping to cut a deal for himself. But he’ll come around. I’ve been through this before.”

“What are the charges against Anita?” Sister Agatha asked. “I know she never meant to kill Father Anselm.”

“We’re charging her with involuntary manslaughter. Apparently she’d originally found the monkshood here on monastery grounds while weeding the rose beds. When her hands swelled up and she got sick, she read up on the plants and learned that the toxic chemicals in monkshood could be absorbed through the skin. Later, when Frank hatched up his scheme to steal the manuscripts to fund their future, she suggested he get some monkshood plants, like the ones she’d pulled up, and cultivate them in the patch near the transformer, which was only a few feet away from where the passageway ended. Then she could have access to it. She’d hoped that after you got sick and were sidelined that she’d be given the work you were doing. But if not, she was confident that she’d be able to open the safe once she had time alone in the scriptorium. She’d managed to learn all but one number.”

“And then what, did they already have a buyer?” Sister Agatha asked.

He shook his head. ‘They’d hoped to sell the manuscript back to the insurance company through a broker. They figured the insurance company would rather buy it back with no questions asked than take the loss and have to honor the claim. They weren’t expecting to be millionaires. They just wanted enough of a nest egg to start anew.”

“How anyone could think they could get a fresh start with that hanging over them is beyond me,” Sister Agatha said.

“I wish things had turned out differently,” Reverend Mother said.

Sheriff Green nodded, then looked at Sister Agatha. “You know that the person who tried to run you off the road in the pickup was Don Malcolm. But I thought you’d like to know that he finally admitted that much to us. He said he was just trying to rattle you, but that won’t lessen the severity of the other charges against him.”

“Good. I hope it’ll help keep him from corrupting any more young men.” She paused, then added, “What about the manuscript Anita took with her? When will I be able to get it back?” Sister Agatha asked. “I know it’s just a good forgery that still embarrasses the library, but they’d like it back eventually.”

“It’s evidence now, but once the trial is over, it’ll be returned to you, and you can give it back to your librarian friend. In the meantime, don’t worry. We’ll take good care of it,” he said, and glanced at his watch. “Well, I better be going. There’s a lot of paperwork waiting for me at my office.”

“Thank you for coming by, Sheriff. We appreciate that,” Reverend Mother said.

Tom gave her a nod, then looked at Sister Agatha. “By the way, Sister, you’ll have to begin training with Pax and his former handler, Deputy Ralph Ortiz, soon. Changing the dog’s name isn’t enough. In his heart, he’s still a cop,” he said with a tiny smile.

“I’ll give your deputy a call tomorrow,” Sister Agatha said.

As the heavy door closed behind Sheriff Green with a massive, final thud, Sister Agatha glanced at Reverend Mother. “I guess it’s time for me to start working full-time again in the service of the Lord.”

“Child, you never stopped,” Reverend Mother said quietly.

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T
he sun was still high in the clear New Mexico sky as Sister Agatha pressed the candy apple red Harley for a little more speed. She was determined to finish her tasks and make it back to the monastery before Vespers which started at five-thirty sharp. As an extern nun at Our Lady of Hope Monastery, Sister Agatha wasn’t required to celebrate the liturgical hours with her cloistered sisters, but she never liked missing Vespers. That was the time she joined her sisters to give thanks for the day with prayers of gratitude that were said by the psalmist to become “as incense to God.”

With Sister Bernarda, the other extern at Our Lady of Hope, acting as the monastery’s gatekeeper today, Sister Agatha had left to run errands in town. As usual, she was behind schedule and feeling the pressure. She glanced to her right at Pax, who was riding in the sidecar. The white German Shepherd, her ever-present companion whenever she was away from home, was resting his muzzle beside the small windscreen as he watched the landscape whizzing by. He seemed perfectly content to enjoy each moment as it came and looked to be completely at peace. Sister Agatha sighed, remembering the bible quote from Job that read, “Ask now the beasts, and they shall teach thee.” Pax’s needs were simple, and he could find peace and contentment no matter where he was.

After a short ride, Sister Agatha pulled into the parking lot of
Panza LLena,
a family restaurant at the north end of Bernalillo, not far from the main intersection of their small town. The owner, Mrs. Chavez, had placed a collection box near the cash register to help the parish raise funds for Arturo Mendoza, a local boy who needed a kidney transplant. Part of Sister Agatha’s job today was to pick up the money raised at the various sites around town.

Sister Agatha climbed off the Harley and removed her red helmet. Once Pax was at “stay” on a patch of grass in the shade of the building, she reached into the pocket of her habit and pulled out a doggie biscuit. “I’ll be right back.”

As she stepped inside the restaurant, Sister Agatha was immediately struck by the silence. She’d been here a couple of times before on monastery business, and she couldn’t remember it ever being so quiet.

She looked around, noting that there were a dozen or more diners seated at the tables. Though most had food before them, none appeared to be eating. As she shifted her gaze, Sister Agatha saw the cook out front by the counter, and the two waitresses were standing beside him. No one was making eye contact with the tall Anglo man standing in front of the cash register, not even Mrs. Chavez, who was working as cashier today.

Instinct told Sister Agatha that something was very wrong. As her gaze swept around the room again, she noticed that all the people were watching her—except the man in front of the cash register. He seemed to be watching everyone else.

Sister Agatha took a moment to study him. He had pale blond hair, needed a shave, and was wearing a loose, blue windbreaker made out of nylon, and worn jeans. His hands were in his pockets, and he was shifting restlessly from one foot to the other. She was just about to say something to him when she noticed that the cash register drawer was open, and Mrs. Chavez had a fistful of bills in her hands. The special collection box for the Mendoza boy was also open, and had obviously been emptied.

An idea struck Sister Agatha suddenly with the force of a bullet She’d walked in on a robbery. Despite the large repertoire of prayers she’d learned as a Catholic—both before and after becoming a nun—the only thing that came into her mind now was the most basic of all pleas—
Oh, Lord, help!

Sister Agatha forced herself to smile at Mrs. Chavez, then reached into her pocket, pretending to be searching for something. “I was just about to buy myself a slice of your wonderful pie, Mrs. Chavez, but I left my wallet in the saddle bags of the bike. I’ll be right back.” With an apologetic smile, Sister Agatha nodded at the man in the jacket then turned to leave. She’d only taken one step when his voice cracked through the air like a whip.

“Stop!” he ordered.

As she turned around, she saw he’d pulled out a small, silver-colored pistol. Pointing it at her, he motioned for her to move behind the counter. “Nice try, Sister, but you’re a lousy poker player.” He then turned to Mrs. Chavez. “Hand over the cash. And don’t forget the big bills under the drawer.”

Mrs. Chavez, a well-rounded woman in her late fifties with salt and pepper hair and large brown eyes, did as he ordered. “That’s all we have.” Her hand was shaking as she handed him the money. “Now go and leave us alone.”

The man jammed the bills into his jacket pocket and glanced at the nervous customers watching him. The big construction worker resting one massive arm on the hard hat on his table had his hand curled into a fist. Lastly, he focused on Sister Agatha again. “Let’s go, Sister. You’re coming with me.

“Where, and why? Don’t you think kidnapping a nun is a little conspicuous? I’ll just slow you down.”

He looked over at the construction worker who had reached for the steak knife. “Put down the knife,” he said, then he turned back to Sister Agatha. “You’re my insurance.”

“Do as he asks, Sister,” Mrs. Chavez pleaded.

The man glanced at Mrs. Chavez and the others. “If anyone moves, or the police show up, Sister’s a goner.”

Mrs. Chavez made a sign of the cross. “There won’t be a place on Earth you can hide from God if you hurt Sister Agatha.”

“I’m not worried about God—just the police.” Grabbing her arm, and tugging, he added, “Let’s go.” As he passed by one of the customers, he let go of Sister Agatha just long enough to grab the woman’s cell phone off the table and jam it into his pocket.

Sister Agatha led the way outside, prodded by the barrel of the thief’s gun. Just as they stepped through the doors, she saw Sheriff Tom Green and Deputy Joshua Riley walking toward them from across the street

Sister Agatha’s heart leaped to her throat. “They’re probably just coming over for some pie and coffee,” she whispered quickly to her captor. “Didn’t you notice that the sheriff’s station is practically across the street?”

“If they make a move, you’re going to be the first one to get shot. Don’t make eye contact, just keep going.” He looked around. “Where’s your car?”

“I don’t have one. I came on the Harley,” she said, pointing.

“Then that’s our ticket out of here.”

“Bad idea. They’ll be after us within a few minutes, and a nun on a bright red motorcycle with a sidecar won’t be hard to trail.”

“All I need is a good head start. And
don’t
try to signal them. I’m watching you like a hawk.”

She stopped at the motorcycle, with the robber close behind her, trying to resist
not
looking toward the sheriff. Tom Green was a very old Mend, and she knew he’d never let her leave without coming over to say hello. But that would undoubtedly spook the gunman into doing something really stupid. It was up to her to take action—now. Fortunately for everyone except the robber she had a lethal weapon currently on sit and stay.

As she reached into her pocket for the keys, she turned slightly, making sure Pax could see the thief’s pistol aimed at the small of her back. A twitch of the dog’s ears as they suddenly stood straight up told Sister he’d spotted the weapon.

“Careful, Sister. Act natural,” the robber muttered, still watching her instead of the dog, which was exactly what she’d prayed he’d do.

Pax was at least ten feet away, but he was already a tensed-up mass of muscle and fur just waiting to cut loose. Sister Agatha took a half step to the side Pax and signalled Pax, who launched himself forward like a thoroughbred out of the starting gate.

The armed man must have seen the attack coming out of the corner of his eye, but his reaction time was a split second too slow. While still in mid air, Pax clamped down on the robber’s gun hand, teeth sinking just above his wrist. There was a sickening crunch and the gunman screamed as the force of Pax’s attack spun him like a top, then threw him forward onto the asphalt, the one-hundred-pound German shepherd still attached to his arm.

Howling in pain, the robber threw a wild punch with his free hand. He missed as the big dog stretched back, working his teeth deeper into the man’s muscle and twisting his gun hand in a frightening game of tug of war.

Scrambling to his knees, the man gave up on his weapon and let it fall, lunging forward instead of pulling away. Groping desperately with his other hand, he managed to grab Pax by the collar. “Got you now, you worthless …”

“No way.” Sister Agatha had seen enough. Drawing back her fist, she punched the low-life squarely in the nose as hard as she could.

The robber toppled forward onto the pavement, and this time the one-hundred-pound dog hanging onto his arm kept him down.

Sister Agatha heard approaching footsteps and knew help had arrived.

“Out!” Sheriff Green ordered Pax as he and the deputy came running up, armed and ready. But the dog was growling now, and was either too focused, couldn’t hear them, or both. “Sister, give him the command.”

“Pax, out!” Sister Agatha ordered, cradling her aching hand.

The dog released the man’s arm and backed away a step, still growling and barking fiercely.

“That dog almost tore my arm off! And then the nun punched me. I’m bleeding.” The man raised up from his face down position, trying to get to his knees with just one arm for support. Pax moved closer, his teeth bared.

“Lie down, or the dog will attack again. Your throat is still intact, so quit whining,” Tom Green said, handcuffing the thief. “We’ll have a doctor look at your injuries once you’re in lock up.”

Sister Agatha looked at the robber and struggled not to cringe. There was more blood coming from his nose where she’d punched him than from the arm Pax had bitten, or perhaps his torn sleeve hid most of the damage. Guilt made her insides hurt nearly as badly as her lingers did.

“Nice jab, Sister Agatha,” Tom Green said. “Remind me never to get you angry.”

Sister exhaled softly and muttered a quick prayer for forgiveness. “I shouldn’t have hit him. I just wanted to protect Pax.” She looked down at her sore knuckles.

“Insider tip, Sister. You might want to put some ice on those knuckles before they start to swell,” Tom said, a smile touching the corners of his mouth.

Mrs. Chavez came rushing out of the restaurant. “Sister Agatha, you were wonderful! I wish I had a punch like yours. You and your dog stopped him in his tracks.”

Sister Agatha gave the restaurant owner a thin smile. Her hand hurt like the devil now. Maybe that was her punishment for resorting to violence.

Forty-five minutes later Pax and she arrived at the monastery. The robbery and its aftermath had made it impossible for her to complete the rest of her errands. She needed to report the incident to Reverend Mother as soon as possible.

Sister Agatha passed through the open iron gates that allowed entry to the walled compound, and drove slowly around to the side of the former barn where she normally parked her motorcycle. To her surprise, she found a long black sedan nestled there in the shade. Curious to see who’d come, she left Pax outside and hurried in through the back door.

When she finally reached the parlor, Sister Bernarda closed the book she’d been reading on the life of Saint Teresa of Avila and met her gaze. “I’m glad you’re back, Your Charity,” she said. “Reverend Mother has been asking for you. Archbishop Miera is here.” Her Marine drill sergeant tone was a little more subdued than usual.

“And they want to talk to
me?”
She wondered if Reverend Mother had already heard about the incident in town. But, then again, that didn’t explain the archbishop’s presence. His residence was too far away for him to have come to the monastery for that.

“I’ll go right now.” Sister Agatha handed Sister Bernarda the list of places that had donations for the Mendozas ready to be picked up. “Could you call these businesses and let them know that one of us will be by tomorrow to pick up the money?”

“I’ll take care of it.” Sister Bernarda said, then looking worried, added, “Not long after His Excellency arrived, I was asked to pack up your things. Your bag is behind the desk over there, all ready.”

“Ready for what? Where am I going?” She didn’t like this at all.

“I have no idea, but you’ll find out when you see Reverend Mother.” When Sister Agatha didn’t move, the older nun added, “Right now
would
be a good time.”

Dread filled her as she went down the silent corridor of the enclosure to Reverend Mother’s office. In times of need, any sister could be asked to go and become part of another monastery, and their vow of obedience would make refusal out of the question. But even the thought of leaving Our Lady of Hope filled her with sadness. Our Lady of Hope was a vital part of her—and she of it. She
belonged
here.

As she drew near Reverend Mother’s door, Sister Agatha froze, unable to take another step. What if she never came back?

A minute went by before Reverend Mother came out into the hallway. “I
thought
someone was out here,” she said, then added, “Child, what on earth are you doing just standing there?”

Reverend Mother called each of the sisters “child”—the age of the person made absolutely no difference. Elderly Sister Clothilde was “child” to Mother just as much as their young postulant, Celia.

“I heard footsteps, but when no one knocked or came in, I began to wonder if someone had ascended,” she said with a smile, clearly trying to put Sister Agatha at ease. “Come in. There’s nothing to be uneasy about.”

Sister followed and, obeying Reverend Mother’s gesture, sat down.

Archbishop Miera had made himself comfortable in one of the larger oak chairs across from Reverend Mother’s desk. He seemed very relaxed, sipping a cup of the monastery’s special blend of tea. The small plate beside him held several of Sister Clothilde’s famous Cloister Cluster cookies.