Bad Samaritan (11 page)

“Thank you, too, for not correcting Cruzer when he misinterpreted why we were interested in the drugs,” she added, revving up the engine. “Information like that is better off staying between us for the time being.”

“I figured that,” he said, petting Pax one last time. “Where are you off to now?”

She hesitated. “It's better if you don't know.”

He gave her a somber nod. “Just be careful, Sister. You don't want to end up becoming the killer's next target.”

“I'm pretty sure God has other plans for me, Chuck. Don't worry.”

S
ISTER AGATHA DROVE DIRECTLY TO TOM'S HOUSE NEXT
. It was time for them to speak privately. She was certain that he was holding something back, and that wouldn't do him or his case any good.

As she pulled up, Sister Agatha saw the living room curtain move back slightly and caught a glimpse of Tom standing to one side. Sister Agatha waved at him just as Gloria opened the front door and came out, purse in hand.

“I'm off to the store, Sister, but I should warn you that Tom's behaving like a caged bear today. We had a visit from Detective Marquez, and Tom's mood went downhill after that,” she said, slipping inside her car. “One more thing—I heard Detective Marquez say that he'd hang your hide and habit to the wall if he caught you interfering with his investigation.”

“Then I'll have to make sure he doesn't catch me,” Sister Agatha said with a quick smile.

As Gloria drove away, Tom met Sister Agatha at the front door. “I hope you've brought me some good news,” he said, bending down to scratch Pax between the ears.

“Actually, I've come because you and I need to talk. I know you too well, Tom, not to notice you're holding something back,” she said, following him into the kitchen side of the great room. “With Gloria out shopping, it's just you and me, so let's stop wasting each other's time. What's going on?”

“I've told you everything that pertains to the murder. You have my word on that.”

She leaned back in her chair and gave him a cold glare. “That's not good enough, Tom. There's something else going on beneath the surface, and in murder investigations, things like that often hold important clues. You know that as well as I do. Stop playing games.”

She was about to say more when they both heard a car pulling into the driveway. It was followed immediately by the sound of a second approaching vehicle.

Seconds later, Gloria came back into the house, empty-handed except for her purse. Officer Sanchez, a deputy with the sheriff's department, was directly behind her.

“Tom,” Gloria called out as she crossed the room. “There's someone here for you.”

Gloria took a seat at the kitchen island beside Sister Agatha as Tom greeted Sanchez with a nod. “What brings you here, Deputy?”

“Sheriff, I've owed you one for a long time,” the tall, lean uniformed officer said. “That's why I stopped your wife down the street. I wanted her to tell you that I'll be working on your defense off duty, but she suggested I come by and tell you myself,” he said. “If you need any legwork done to clear your name, count me in.”

“Thank you, Louis,” Tom said. “You put your job at risk coming to tell me that, and your loyalty's appreciated.”

“There's something else,” Sanchez said. “Detective Marquez ordered me to tail you whenever you left the house—particularly if Sister Agatha was with you or had come by recently. Of course, I can't be watching everywhere at once, can I?” he added with a grin.

Tom shook his head. “I appreciate what you're trying to do, Deputy, but follow your orders. The charges against me are false, but if I end up going down, I'm not taking anyone else with me.”

“But Sheriff—”

“No. If I need you to help me locate a witness or do some legwork, I'll give you a call. Meanwhile, when you're on duty, follow your supervisor's orders.”

“All right, Sheriff. Listen, though—you've got friends in the department who know you're not guilty. We're all working behind the scenes to find out who killed Garcia and set you up.” He started to the door, then stopped and glanced back. “If you need anything in the meantime, I won't be far.”

After Deputy Sanchez left, Gloria looked at Tom, then at Sister Agatha. The lines on her face revealed her weariness. “Is he for real, or is this a Marquez type of setup? If you do something stupid and interfere with the case, or try to corrupt a witness, Marquez could throw you in jail, right?”

“Yes, he could, but I don't think Sanchez is playing us. I did save his butt once, and I can understand why he might feel that he owes me.”

“He might owe Marquez, too,” Gloria said.

“I don't think Frank Marquez is out to get anyone,” Sister Agatha said. “I've known him since we were in our teens, and he's always been a stand-up guy. From what I've seen so far, I think he just wants to do the job he's been given, close the case, and go back to Santa Fe.”

“Probably, but don't underestimate Frank,” Tom said. “As a law enforcement officer, he's extremely driven. He's got an impressive conviction record and usually closes his cases—one way or another. I've heard that's the reason Mayor Garcia requested him specifically. JD's hoping Frank will go with the easy answers instead of drawing things out. If that's the way it goes down, then I'm going to be left twisting in the wind.”

“You're both police officers. He'll want to make certain you get a fair shake,” Sister Agatha said.

“Normally that would be true, but the circumstantial evidence is against me, and when it looks like an officer has gone bad everyone closes ranks,” Tom said, shaking his head. “We come down even harder on our own because it makes us all look bad.”

Sister Agatha waited, hoping Gloria would leave and go finish her errands, but no one moved. As minutes ticked by, Sister Agatha became acutely aware of the tension between Tom and Gloria. It resonated in the silence between them, breathing with a life of its own.

Knowing Tom wouldn't speak freely now that Gloria had decided to stick around, Sister Agatha stood. “Pax and I better get going.”

Tom walked her to the door. “What's next on your agenda?”

“I've got to go back to the monastery and help Sister Bernarda pack up more of our scriptorium equipment.”

“Are you shutting down the scriptorium?” Tom asked. “I thought you were still making money off of that.”

She'd spoken without thinking and now regretted her lapse. Recovering quickly, she answered, “We've decided to get some of our older computers and other hardware out of the way for now.” At least that wasn't a lie.

His eyes narrowed as he gazed at her. “What else is going on over there?”

“I've heard some interesting rumors,” Gloria said, coming up behind them.

“Like what?” Sister Agatha asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

“A few days ago, a white car with a nun at the wheel went past Mrs. Santeiro's house on its way to the monastery. Then, about an hour later, the car drove back out, but that time there were two more nuns inside. At first Mrs. Santeiro figured it was probably all part of a doctor or dentist visit. What she couldn't figure out was where the white car had come from, since she'd never seen it before.”

Sister Agatha knew Mrs. Santeiro well. She lived up the road from the monastery, close to the highway. She'd often wondered how the woman ever got anything done, always looking out her front kitchen window.

“A few days later, Mrs. Santeiro went to the monastery to ask Sister Clothilde if she'd be willing to bake some Cloister Cluster Cookies or make that new wonderful fudge recipe of hers—Sweet Habit—for the annual senior center fund-raiser. Sister Bernarda told her that Sister Clothilde was taking care of other responsibilities and their new cook wasn't up to the job,” Gloria said. “So what's happened to Sister Clothilde? Did she and some others get transferred out, and will more follow?”

Keeping a secret in a community as small as theirs was nearly impossible, Sister Agatha realized. As her gaze settled on Tom, another much more encouraging thought came to mind. Maybe that would ultimately help Tom out.

“Sure sounds like something's going on,” Tom said, his laser-sharp gaze on her.

She considered telling him what was happening, but why add another worry to what he was already shouldering? Once the monastery shut its doors, whether or not the case was closed,
she'd still have to leave, and that would mean he'd have one less ally working to clear his name.

“This isn't something I can talk about yet, but as soon as I can I'll fill you both in,” she said at last.

He nodded once, his expression hard. He'd never liked surprises.

Gloria shrugged. “Okay, then. I was just curious.”

Sister Agatha and Pax were soon on their way back to the monastery. She would spend the rest of her day in quiet solitude. Maybe their familiar rounds of work and prayer would result in inspiration and insight, two things she sorely needed at the moment.

Tomorrow, Robert Garcia would be buried in the old graveyard behind St. Augustine Church, the same cemetery where her own parents and brother had been laid to rest. Although she'd give priority to clearing Tom and focus on the funeral Mass and the service, she'd also make time to visit her family's graves. Once she moved to Colorado and Agnus Dei, she might never be able to do that again.

As a sudden rush of grief washed over her, tears flooded her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. Unable to brush them away because of the helmet's faceplate, she concentrated on the road, forcing back her sorrow.

There was no reason to grieve. She knew better. Earthly remains were all that were buried at the graveyard. Her family's spirits had moved on, soaring to God's heaven, where they would live on, forever unlimited by human boundaries.

It was the truth. Yet the pain remained, and her tears continued to fall.

It was eleven the following morning when Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda pulled into the parking lot of St. Augustine
Church. Only a few spaces were available, and Sister Bernarda chose the one closest to the cemetery grounds.

“As we turned in, I saw people heading over to the new section of the cemetery. That means we didn't miss the graveside ceremony,” Sister Bernarda said.

“We would have been better off had we taken the Harley,” Sister Agatha said. “This old wreck cuts out when it reaches thirty miles per hour, and if you ignore that and push it, the whole engine starts shaking. I think it's the carburetor acting up again—and the timing, and the spark plugs.”

Sister Bernarda said a quick prayer, then turned the ignition off. The engine ran for another second, then stopped. “At least we got here in one piece. And thank the Lord we didn't announce our tardiness with an ear-splitting backfire.”

“Sister Ignatius lit a candle for us,” Sister Agatha said by way of an explanation.

“I'm going to join the mourners,” Sister Bernarda said, leaving the car, “but seeing you is likely to upset the Garcias. Where do you plan to be?”

“I'll circle around and remain in the shadows. The main reason I'm here is to watch and listen to people talk. We can meet back here at the car later.”

“All right, then,” Sister Bernarda said and strode off.

Sister Agatha circled around the church and entered the newest section of the cemetery. She chose a spot in the deep shade beneath the elms that stood near the north end of the grounds and prepared to view the proceedings from there. Though out of the way, she still had a clear look at all the mourners gathered around Father Mahoney.

What she intended to do now was remain still and watch people's reactions when they shook Father Mahoney's hand. With luck, she might be able to spot an indication of pain from
an injured wrist or arm. Of course, that was a real long shot. As Chuck had pointed out, the killer could have worn gloves.

Sister Agatha's gaze drifted over to Victoria Garcia and her son, RJ, who stood beside her, shifting from side to side. Although there were no signs of grief in the boy's face, there was an unmistakable restlessness. He looked bored, as a matter of fact.

As Father Mahoney read from Psalm 23, RJ tugged at his mother's arm and whispered something to her when she bent down. She shook her head, then stood up straight again. The boy waited for a heartbeat, then, letting go of her hand, walked away. Victoria reached out for him, but the boy wriggled loose and kept going.

Mike Herrera, who'd been behind them, slipped closer to Victoria, whispered something in her ear, then hurried after the boy.

RJ walked as fast as his short legs could manage without breaking into a run. He was halfway to the parking lot when Mike caught up to him. Curious, Sister Agatha walked toward them. Mike and RJ appeared to be arguing. RJ was staring at the ground, angrily kicking at the grass with his shoe. When Mike reached for the boy's arm, RJ jerked free.

Sister Agatha got closer to them and tried to listen in. They were so focused on each other they couldn't see anything else, but their conversation was too low to decipher.

The sudden silence at the graveside service behind her got her attention. Father Mahoney had just ended his prayer. Sister Agatha turned and shifted her focus back to what was happening there. Monty Allen shook hands with the priest, then went to speak to Victoria and the mayor. If any of them had a tender arm or wrist, they didn't show it.

People she recognized from town continued walking past the casket that was resting on a lift above the open grave. Individuals
or couples would place a flower on the grave site, then continue. Most looked visibly relieved that the ceremony had ended, and she couldn't decide if it was because of the situation or the ninety-degree temperature.

Sister Agatha edged closer and studied the family members. When Al Russo approached Victoria, she smiled and visibly relaxed. There was nothing inappropriate about their behavior, but the two appeared to have a definite connection.