False Witness (10 page)

“No. As long as I’m out, I might as well go pick up Mr. Gutierrez’s check. Then I think I’ll pay Tom Green a visit. If we’ve got enemies, he needs to know about it.”

“I’ll let Reverend Mother know what just happened. But for what it’s worth, I think your instincts are right. What happened to our gate wasn’t just an accident. Even if the driver was drunk, we were singled out.”

“We have enemies, Sister Bernarda, but we also have friends,” she said softly. “He gives His Angels charge over us. Those armed with faith have all they need.”

W
ITH PAX IN THE MOTORCYCLE’S SIDECAR, SISTER
Agatha drove down the road about a quarter of a mile, then turned up past the Realtor’s sign into the driveway that led to Luz del Cielo Vineyard and Winery. The main house, an old Spanish-style villa with a red clay–tiled roof and several balconies, had once been Carla Barclay’s pride and joy. But now only Eric and their daughter remained.

Sister Agatha parked in the shade, ordered Pax to stay, then climbed off the bike. Thinking of happier days when the large fountain had bubbled with life, she stared at it, lost in thought. Like the vineyard, it seemed to be waiting for something yet to be defined.

Arriving on the redbrick steps, Sister Agatha knocked on the massive carved wooden front door. No one answered. Not so long ago this building had always been open during business
hours. Eric Barclay’s daughter would greet visitors and offer to take them on a tour or invite them to sample the house wine. But then, Eric, inundated with medical bills from his late wife’s losing battle with cancer, had been forced to give up his dreams and sell the property. After that, though he’d stayed on, nothing had remained the same. It was as if Luz del Cielo’s heart had been broken.

When no one responded to the doorbell, Sister Agatha tried the massive iron knocker, but still no one came.

Sister Agatha glanced around, then decided to walk down the small service road to the fields. Stopping every once in a while, she called out for Eric, but either he was out of earshot or off the property completely.

Unable to locate him, she finally opted to leave a note, asking him to call the monastery, and slipped it beneath his front door. Eric had always been dependable, so she knew he’d be in touch as soon as he read it.

Her second stop was the Siesta Inn. As she headed down the hallway leading to John Gutierrez’s room, she saw Ralph Simpson putting coins in the Coke machine set into a wall recess.

Seeing her, he smiled. “Sister Agatha, what a pleasure. I hope you’ve come with good news for us.”

She nodded. “I’m ready to accept the job, but I’d like to ask John a few more questions about his niece.”

Ralph shook his head. “Unfortunately, Sister, now’s really not a good time. John had a rough night and he only managed to fall asleep a short while ago. I don’t want to wake him up, but if it’ll help, I can go bring you the photo and the check right now so you can get started.”

“That would be great. Thanks.”

Sister Agatha waited in the hall with Pax. A short time
later Ralph came back out and handed her an envelope. “Here you go.”

Inside, she found the photo and the check made out to the monastery. “Thank you. Please tell your employer that I’ll be in touch as soon as I have something.”

Sister Agatha, with Pax still at heel, retraced her steps back outside to the Harley. “We’re going to have to work fast on this one, Pax. That buffer zone’s critical and so’s getting that second check.”

Sister Agatha put the cycle in gear. There was one problem with the work she’d accepted, and it nagged at her. Finding Angie Sanchez was one thing—convincing her to come to see her estranged uncle was another issue entirely. She’d assumed that John understood that, but the possibility that she’d ultimately fail a dying man made her chest tighten.

After a brief stop by the bank, she drove toward the station. Pax, recognizing the route, barked happily and Sister Agatha smiled.

She was still a few blocks away from her destination when Sister Agatha spotted Liz walking down the sidewalk. Knowing the girl should have been in school, Sister Agatha pulled over to the curb, parked next to her, and took off her helmet.

“I’m not ditching, if that’s what you think,” Liz said before Sister Agatha could say anything. “I don’t feel good and I’m going home.”

“Want a ride? You can sit with Pax, or climb up behind me.”

Liz shook her head. “Mom wouldn’t like it if she saw me riding with you.” She cringed as soon as the words came out. “Forget I said that. I’m already in
enough
trouble with her.” Liz gave a haphazard wave, then quickly headed diagonally across the feed store’s parking lot and toward an opening in the evergreen hedge. On the other side was a residential neighborhood.

Sister Agatha watched her go. Whether or not Liz approved, she intended to pay Mrs. Leland a visit real soon and try to figure out what was going on. She couldn’t think of any reason why Liz’s mother might have a grudge against her or the monastery, but there was no better way to find out than to ask. Putting the cycle in gear, Sister Agatha continued to the sheriff’s office.

They arrived a few minutes later. The bull pen was busier than usual, so Sister Agatha kept Pax with her instead of letting him roam among the deputies. As she went back toward Tom’s office, a few people nodded, but no one stopped her. Tom was working at his desk when Sister Agatha finally reached his open door and knocked.

“Do you have a moment?” she asked.

“Sure,” he said, leaning back in his chair and waving her in. “To tell you the truth, I need the break. Have a seat.” He walked over to the coffeepot resting on a small cart in the corner of his office and poured himself a cup. “You want one? It’s strong. We had a long night around here.”

“No thanks, I’ll pass,” she said, looking at the thick liquid that was more the consistency of molasses than coffee and trying not to cringe. “What happened?”

“A new gang’s surfaced, and with it a rash of vandalism, petty theft, and car break-ins.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Now tell me what’s been going on at the monastery. I understand you spotted someone hanging around again just outside the wall.”

“Yeah, but there’s more.” She told him about her conversation with Liz, and the attacks and threats they’d received via the Internet. “I think Liz’s warning may have some validity. It sure seems like someone’s out to make our lives difficult.”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. You have no proof that anything’s
related,” he said. “Computer criminals, for instance, rarely confront anyone directly.”

“Yes, but think about all the incidents we’ve had. The monastery’s gate could have been deliberately rammed to harass us, and the beer cans picked from the trash and placed inside the SUV just to throw the police off track.”

“If that’s the case, then the person out to get you muddied up the threat and that’s not very likely. People out to harass want their message heard loud and clear. Your hacker friend, for instance, sent very clear warnings.”

“You may be right about the hacker, but I’m going to look into what happened to our gate some more. Will you give me Jack Miller’s address? I want to talk to him again.”

“Can’t do it—for legal and ethical reasons. You know that from your old journalism days.”

“How about letting me read his statement? I’m interested in his whereabouts when the crash occurred.”

“We’ve already checked that out and interviewed the people who were at the mall with him—Randy Robertson, the cousin of one of our senior deputies, and Randy’s wife. Jack was with them the entire time.”

“Okay. If you’ve already been over that ground thoroughly, then I’m going to head over to Mrs. Leland’s and have a talk with her.”

“Be careful. The woman might turn out to be a crank, or maybe she’s starting to crack under pressures from her own life.” He stood and came around his desk to walk her to the door. “Let me know if you learn anything more substantial about these enemies the monastery’s supposed to have.”

“Will do. One last thing.” Fishing the envelope that Ralph had given her out of her pocket, she showed him the photo of Angie Sanchez. “I’m trying to locate the niece of one of our
benefactors. She looks vaguely familiar, but I’m not sure why. Do
you
happen to know her?” she asked, giving him the niece’s name.

He studied the photo, then shook his head. “I don’t recognize the face, but the name’s fairly common. I know at least two women named Angie Sanchez, but the photo doesn’t match either of them.”

Sister Agatha nodded and placed the photo back into her pocket. “She may have changed her name, so think about it when you can. I’ll be asking Father Mahoney later, too. He knows almost everyone around here.”

“Good luck,” he said.

After checking the phone book for the address, Sister Agatha and Pax were on their way to Mrs. Leland’s. Less than ten minutes later, Sister Agatha pulled up by the small adobe home. The place showed stages of neglect everywhere. The ground was filled with goat heads, and a large cottonwood that had once given a wealth of shade to the property was now nothing more than dried bark. Branches, like bony arms, reached out to the sky in silent supplication.

Sister Agatha ordered Pax to remain at heel on the sidewalk as they walked up to the front entrance. Before she reached the small porch, the door opened.

“I hope you’re not here to tell me Liz is in trouble again,” Mrs. Leland snapped. “If you are, Sister, then you and the sheriff can just keep her this time. A mother can only do so much.” She stood there, adjusting the green apron worn by employees of a local restaurant.

“Mrs. Leland, I understand that you’ve been through a difficult time—”

“That, Sister, is the understatement of the year,” she interrupted. Margot Leland pulled back a strand of tinted brown
hair that had worked loose from the bun at the nape of her neck and pinned it in place. Giving Pax a quick glance, she added, “You can both come in, if you’d like, but I’ve got to eat quickly before I leave for my second job,” she said.

Sister Agatha followed her into the kitchen. “I saw Liz earlier, walking home. I understand she left school because she wasn’t feeling well.”

“Liz is fine, she just stayed up too late last night. She’s asleep right now. Don’t let her con you, Sister. That girl doesn’t have it nearly as bad as she thinks.” She pulled out a chair and sat down, gesturing for Sister Agatha to do the same. “Would you like an egg salad sandwich? I made an extra one.”

“Thanks,” she said, accepting, not only to be sociable but aware that she’d be missing the main meal of the day at the monastery.

“Everything is done in a rush these days,” Margot said, placing a plate in front of Sister Agatha. Then, reaching into the refrigerator, she brought out two cans of soda. “When I was young my mother always had fresh cookies and a pot of coffee brewed in case a friend or neighbor dropped by. Food was an open door that led to confidences and old-fashioned girl talk. Now it’s eating on the run and rushing to work. Women have lost a vital part of what made our lives richer.”

“More is expected of women these days. Progress brought good things and bad.”

Margot glanced around the kitchen. “Not long ago I was a great homemaker. My kitchen was the heart of our home. It was sparkling clean and there was always something cooking in the oven. But then everything changed….” She shook her head, looked at the clock on the wall, and started eating her sandwich quickly. “You better tell me what brought you here today. I’m going to have to leave soon.”

“Your daughter mentioned to me in passing that she believed our monastery had made some local enemies, but when I pressed her about it, she refused to elaborate. By any chance do you know what she was talking about?” Sister Agatha asked, quickly finishing her sandwich.

With a scowl, Margot took her plate and Sister Agatha’s to the sink. “I have no idea why Lizzie said that to you.”

“Do you recall the problem we had with our gate?” Sister Agatha saw her nod and continued. “We’re still not sure what happened, but if there’s a possibility that it was done deliberately….”

“Move on. You’ll find a way to get it fixed. Face it, the monastery has it made, Sister. The rest of us out here in the real world have to work for a living, two or three jobs sometimes, and even then it’s never quite enough. All you have to do is kneel, mutter some prayers, and ask for donations. Then poof! Everything is taken care of.”

The resentment laced through her words surprised Sister Agatha. “Mrs. Leland, you’re wrong about us. We also work very hard. Our Rule requires that each day be divided between manual labor and prayers, just like it was for the apostles. We have to support ourselves, too.”

“Maybe so, but you get charity, donations, and tax breaks the rest of us don’t. Smitty, for one, is constantly making food donations, and the other merchants are always chipping in for some church project or another. The working public—the rest of us—we’re on our own.”

Struggling for patience, Sister Agatha took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Mrs. Leland, our main job—what defines us—is praying and giving glory to God. We also pray for anyone who asks and, in exchange, people sometimes make donations that help us continue God’s work. If you don’t believe
that prayers are of value, then that won’t make much sense to you. But prayer is a lot like the proverbial mustard seed. It doesn’t seem like much at first, but the results can be pretty impressive.”

“I don’t care how you phrase it, the bottom line is that you get a lot of economic breaks in return for prattling off a Hail Mary or two.”

Despite her harsh words, all she could see in Margot’s eyes were pain and dark emotions like anger that targeted those nearest her—her daughter, the monastery, and probably anyone else who got in her way.

Empathy and sadness enveloped Sister Agatha. Sometimes life ground a person’s dreams into the dust. Refusing to reach out to God at times like those often meant they’d sink into a pit so deep and dark that crawling out of Hell would have been a snap in comparison.