False Witness (11 page)

“The length of a prayer isn’t nearly as important to God as what’s in our hearts,” Sister Agatha said gently. “Prayer’s about faith and, even more, about love.”

“There was a time when I believed in all those things, but I prayed, went to church, gave to the poor, and still my family fell apart. Then my own child turned against me. That’s when I stopped praying, and you know what? Nothing’s changed. These days I work hard and try to get by, but nobody ever takes up a collection for me. I’ve never been given something for nothing.”

“I’ll pray for you, Margot, that’s something. And I won’t give up. God
will
help you, but you’ve got to open your heart to Him.”

Margot shook her head. “Forget the sermon, Sister. You guys have learned to work the system while the rest of us have to fight for every dime. And you clearly have the advantage.
Look at the NexCen contract. You cheated but you still landed the account.”

Sister Agatha stared at her in surprise. “Cheated? How? We placed our bid, just like the other companies.”

“But you have no overhead, not like a
real
business does. The nuns work for free, so you can underbid everyone else. That’s why you got the contract. But the company that you beat out had to lay off half their workers when they lost the NexCen contract.”

Margot Leland looked around her kitchen, desperation in her tear-filled eyes. “You’re taking away people’s jobs and destroying their lives by going where you don’t belong, don’t you get it?” She stood up. “You’d better leave now.”

Sister Agatha signaled to Pax, who’d been lying on the floor at her side. “I
will
keep you in our prayers, Margot. God
can
help you, but you have to invite Him back into your life.”

Margot held the front door open for her. “Don’t do me any favors, Sister, and don’t bother coming back. You and I have nothing more to talk about.”

Sister Agatha walked to the Harley with Pax. As he jumped into the sidecar, he glanced at her and whined softly.

Sister Agatha reached out to him and patted him gently on the head. “Sometimes people lose their way, Pax. All we can do is pray and leave the matter in God’s gentle hands. That battle isn’t ours to fight.”

W
HEN SISTER AGATHA RETURNED HOME TO THE
monastery and entered the parlor, she found Sister Bernarda with the door keys in her hands, getting ready to lock up.

“Reverend Mother has called another chapter meeting,” Sister Bernarda said quickly. “She’s asked everyone to meet her in the community room.” As she finished speaking, the bell began ringing, its deep, rich tones summoning each of them. “The door and windows are now locked, and the answering machine is on. Let’s go,” Sister Bernarda said, opening the door to the enclosure.

“Any idea what’s going on?”

“No, not a clue, but I expect we’ll find out soon enough.” By the time they reached the community room, all the other sisters and Reverend Mother were already there. Going
inside as quietly as possible, they stood by the wall and joined in the opening prayer.

“God, let your love come upon us. Glory be to the Father, and the Son …,” Reverend Mother intoned, then, once finished, glanced around the room. “Sit down, children.”

There was a flurry of activity as they obeyed, followed by an expectant silence.

“I’ll begin with the good news. Mr. Gutierrez will donate the buffer zone we requested, a fifty-foot-wide strip of land,
if
Sister Agatha can help him with a pressing family matter. We all need to pray for her success.”

Reverend Mother paused for several long seconds, then continued. “Now the less positive news. Our insurance company is demanding that the rewiring work be completed quickly or they’ll drop coverage. Since our cash reserves are low, we’ll need a loan to do this, even with Sister Bernarda doing some of the work herself. The problem we’re facing is that to pay back the loan, we’ll have to rely on our
future
income from NexCen and from the money Sister Agatha will be given
if
her work for Mr. Gutierrez is successful. If that money doesn’t come in, we would have to default on the loan, and that’ll mean a significant penalty as well as higher interest rates and payments. That’s why we all have to vote on this. The choice before us is this: drop our insurance for a few months until we have the cash to pay for the repairs, or do the needed work now, and fund it with a short-term loan, counting that the money we need will come in on time.”

“We have the very minimum of insurance as it is, Mother,” Sister Gertrude, their cellarer said. “We can’t allow it to lapse.”

Sister Agatha looked at the others then back at Mother, uncertain whether to tell them what she’d learned from Margot
Leland. With enemies working against them, maybe now wasn’t a good time for financial risk-taking. But since her concerns were mostly based on rumor, she wasn’t sure if she should bring it up or not.

“What’s on your mind, child?” Reverend Mother asked, her gaze on Sister Agatha. “If you have any thoughts about this, speak freely.”

Sister Agatha told them what she’d learned. “The incidents may be unrelated. But the situation still worries me. We need the protection of our walls and a solid gate, but maybe we should hold off on the rest, including the rewiring, and trust things will hold together a little longer.”

“Could Mr. Gutierrez be persuaded to advance us the second check and trust you to locate his niece?” Reverend Mother asked.

Sister Agatha shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so, Mother. He’s a businessman. If I don’t deliver, he’ll use the remaining funds to hire someone else, maybe another private investigator. The blessing is that he came to us first and we did get a check that should cover a good part of the repairs to our gate.”

“We need to trust God to see things through for us from beginning to end,” Sister Ignatius said firmly. “He led Moses through the desert, and He’ll see us through this now.”

After considering all sides of the problem, they voted unanimously to take out the loan and give priority to fixing the wiring, an ever-present fire hazard. Reverend Mother called an end to their meeting and, as she walked out of the room, gestured for Sister Agatha to accompany her.

Sister Agatha silently fell into step beside her and waited for her to speak.

“Go back and talk to Sheriff Green. Make sure he understands that our monastery may need extra protection while our wall is down.”

“I’ll take care of that right away, Mother.”

The bells were ringing for None as Sister Agatha prepared to leave the monastery again. Assured on the telephone that Tom would be in his office until late, she went down the hall to look for Sister Bernarda, who was checking out an outlet.

She explained her errand then added, “I’ll need you to take over as portress.”

“Will you be coming back as soon as you’re finished at the station?” Sister Bernarda asked.

“Yes, but on the way there, I’ll be stopping to get gas for the Harley. I don’t expect this to be a quick trip, so I’ll take the extra set of keys to the front door. That way you won’t have to stay in the parlor to let me back in.”

“All right. But a head’s-up, Sister Agatha. Last time I stopped by the garage, Paul Gonzales was in a terrible mood. He said that he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to continue his donations of gas and car repairs to the monastery.”

“Times have been tough for many of our small businessmen,” Sister Agatha said, nodding. “Maybe he’s having some financial problems of his own. I’ll make it a point to talk to him.” Mr. Gonzales’s donations were more important than ever to the monastery. If those stopped, she wasn’t sure how they’d manage.

It was a little past five-thirty when Sister Agatha walked out to the parking area. Seeing her, Pax bounded to the Harley and waited for her in the sidecar. Soon they were on their way to Paul’s garage.

As she drove the Harley up by the gasoline pumps and parked, Paul came out from one of the garage bays, wiping his hands on a rag. A radio inside was playing a Mexican ballad, and Paul was singing along, looking as if his thoughts were a million miles away.

“Hello, Paul,” she greeted.

“Hello, Sister. Do you need some help?”

“No, I just stopped by for gas and to say hi. The song you were singing sounded sad. Not your singing, the song itself,” she clarified quickly. “How are things going?”

“Not good.” Paul stared at the gas pumps as if they were long-lost friends, then turned to look at the building. “Fact is, I’ve been thinking of closing down the garage, Sister. It’s a lot of work and I’m getting up in years. If I sell the business, the wife and I could retire and do some traveling together.”

“You built this business from scratch, Paul,” she said, surprised. “I thought you’d never give it up. Has something changed?”

“Our son has no interest in taking over the business. He says he has plans of his own, and they don’t include running the garage. I always assumed that this place would belong to him someday. That’s why I worked so hard to stay in the black. But if he doesn’t want it, it’s time for me to rethink my future here.”

“But what would you do without this place?” Sister Agatha asked. “You’ve worked here almost your entire adult life. Be careful, Paul, I’ve seen this happen before. It’s not easy for someone used to working hard to suddenly find himself with nothing to do. Having time on your hands may not turn out to be the blessing you think it is.”

Paul nodded slowly. “I saw something like that happen to my dad. He talked and talked about retiring, then, when he finally
did, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He’d go fishing in the mornings then rattle around the house every afternoon. Before long, even fishing stopped being fun for him. Eight months later he passed away.” He paused. “That’s why I’m taking this slow. I need to make sure I’m doing the right thing. There are some decisions you just can’t undo.”

Sister Agatha thought of Sister Bernarda and how some choices came back to haunt people when they least expected it. “I’ll say a prayer for you, Paul. I’m sure you’ll do the right thing when the time comes to decide.” She placed the gas hose back in its place, then noticed that he didn’t have his writing pad. “Did you want me to sign for this inside so you can keep track of the donation?”

“You know where the sheets are, right?”

“Of course.” She started to go into the small office, then stopped. “By the way, Paul, have you heard anything about our monastery having enemies in town? There’s a rumor flying around, but I’m not sure how much weight to give it.”

He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “When I heard what happened to the monastery’s gate, I wondered if I should say something to you. Then I was told that Liz Leland and some other kids were responsible.”

“We thought so at first, but that may not be the case after all.”

Paul stared at his shoes, lost in thought. “I’ve never been much for gossip, but from what I hear, there’s a group of people in this area who are ticked off at the sisters. It’s because of the computer work the monastery’s doing these days. When the NexCen contracts were awarded to the monastery, a local company, Computer Crue, took quite a hit. They laid off a lot of people. They even fired their janitorial services. Liz Leland’s dad owned P.M. Janitorial, and he was suddenly forced to trim
down his own staff. That caused him to lose other clients because he couldn’t service them adequately anymore. Then his last major client, the mailing service that also lost their NexCen contract to the monastery, ran into trouble. After that, P.M. Janitorial folded.”

“So Mr. Leland was inadvertently hurt twice by our monastery,” Sister Agatha observed, shaking her head slowly.

“Yeah. I think Dennis Leland works for a company in Rio Rancho now.”

“I didn’t know,” she said, suddenly understanding why Mrs. Leland had been so bitter. If the cutbacks had created a ripple across the local economy, there was no telling how many other enemies they’d made, including the relatives of those who’d lost their jobs.

“I’m sorry to hear about this, but thanks for the information, Paul.”

Then she remembered the photograph of Angie Sanchez in her pocket. Almost everyone in the area depended on private vehicles for transportation, and Paul had pumped gas for decades. “Before I go, will you take a look at a photo and see if you recognize the woman there? I’ve been trying to find her.”

Paul studied the photo for several seconds, then handed it back to her. “I think she’s stopped here for gas a few times over the last few months. She drives a silver Kia, or maybe it’s a Toyota. Her face is a lot rounder now, like she’s put on weight since that picture was taken.”

“Her name is—or was—Angie Sanchez. Does that help?”

“I know several Angies, one of them with the last name of Sanchez. But this lady never introduced herself. Never even got out of the car.”

“Did she pay with a credit card, maybe?” Sister Agatha asked, hoping to get a name.

“Not that I recall. Sorry.”

“What else can you tell me about the woman?”

“Her face looks older now and her hair’s lighter, too. But I see a lot of people, so I could be wrong about all this. I wish I could be more help.”

Sister Agatha smiled. “You’ve done more than you realize.”

After signing the donation sheet, Sister Agatha continued on to the station, glad to finally have a lead on Angie Sanchez. As she drove south down Camino Real, a prickly feeling touched the base of her spine. Uneasy, she looked around. A glance in the rearview mirror revealed a dark-green sedan several car lengths behind her. She wasn’t exactly sure how long it had been there; her mind had been on Angie, but she kept an eye on the car now. It wasn’t the sheriff this time, that was certain.

The vehicle stayed with her, not getting any closer or moving farther back, all the way into the heart of town. When she finally pulled into the sheriff’s department parking lot, the sedan continued down the street, streaking by too quickly for her to get a good look at the driver or his plates.

Sister Agatha walked into the building, Pax at her side, and went directly to Tom’s office. Maybe the sedan had also been on its way to town and she was reading too much into what had happened—or not. As she approached Tom’s door, he glanced up.