False Witness (3 page)

“It won’t be hard to figure out who this SUV belongs to once you pull out his registration. After that, we’d like the man arrested,” Sister Bernarda said in her usual no-nonsense style. “We need our gate fixed on the double, and the person who did this has to make things right.”

“You may have trouble collecting if he has no insurance. One out of three New Mexico drivers still aren’t covered.” As her radio came to life, Deputy James held up a hand, then answered the call.

To Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda the transmission sounded garbled and virtually incoherent, but the deputy appeared to have no trouble deciphering it.

“Did ya’ll get that?” she asked, looking at Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda.

Sister Agatha shook her head and looked over at Sister Bernarda, who shrugged. “Sorry,” Sister Bernarda said. “It’s been a while since I’ve tuned in on radio chatter. You better translate for us.”

“This particular SUV was reported stolen earlier tonight.”
“Terrific,” Sister Bernarda muttered sourly. “Guess I shouldn’t have touched the key.”

“At the time it was the right thing to do,” Sister Agatha said. “Besides, the beer cans in there can also be checked for fingerprints. And that air bag, too. He had to push it away to get out. We found his footprints, too, Deputy James,” Sister Agatha added, pointing to the ground. “They’re distinctive because of their size.”

“A man’s shoe, size twelve or bigger. I’ll take some photos.” Deputy James brought out a camera with flash attachment, put her pen alongside for scale, then took several photos. She then took shots of the interior and exterior of the SUV. Finally she gathered all the cans, handling them by the edges, and placed them into evidence sacks, labeling each.

Deputy James cut away the deployed air bag from the center of the steering wheel with a big folding knife, rolled the bag up, and placed it into a large grocery bag, labeling it with the time, date, and her initials. She then slipped behind the SUV’s wheel and took a quick inventory of the interior at a glance. “No key ring. The thief must have found a spare hidden on the vehicle.”

“When are you going to tow the vehicle away? It’s blocking our entrance,” Sister Bernarda said.

“The department will send a wrecker over, but probably not before morning.”

“We’ll need our driveway cleared as soon as possible,” Sister Bernarda said. “What if, God forbid, we have an emergency and can’t get out in our own vehicles? We have a few elderly sisters here, and all the commotion might have upset one or two of them. We should at least try to push the SUV to one side so our station wagon can get out.”

Deputy James nodded. “I understand, Sister. Let me see if I
can get this hunk of junk running,” she said, then moved the seat forward. The seat had been set so far back that her feet barely reached the pedals.

The engine started on the first try and, although it sputtered all the way, they succeeded in getting it to the side of the road.

“Expect the wrecker in the morning,” Deputy James said, taking the key and bagging it as evidence. Moments later she drove off.

Sister Bernarda glanced at Sister Agatha. “We might as well go back inside. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”

T
HE RHYTHMIC, DEEP PEALS OF THE GABRIEL BELL
woke up Sister Agatha the following morning. Her body ached but, mercifully, not much more than usual. A few minutes later, before she’d had a chance to roll up the air mattress she’d placed in the parlor, Sister Bernarda came in.

At first, Sister Agatha assumed that she’d washed up early so she could relieve her as soon as the bell rang. But once she saw the darkened circles under Sister Bernarda’s reddened eyes, Sister Agatha realized that her fellow extern had probably had another sleepless night.

Sister Bernarda crouched by the mattress and gestured by cocking her head that she’d put things away while Sister Agatha went to wash up. The Great Silence was still being observed so, with only a nod, Sister Agatha hurried down the corridor.

They met again shortly thereafter in chapel. Matins was
chanted before daybreak as a counter to the evils that gathered strength during the night. That ritual was followed by Lauds at sunrise, when light returned to the earth. It was the hour of praise—a commemoration of the Light that had come to the world through Jesus Christ. Their voices rose in the stillness, adding texture to what was in their hearts—an immeasurable love for the One God and His Son. After Mass came breakfast and Morning Prayers, which signaled the end of the Great Silence.

When Sister Bernarda came to find her sometime later, Sister Agatha was back at her post as portress, dusting the room with meticulous precision. If it was done for His glory all honest work was a continual prayer.

“One of us has to take Sister Gertrude to the doctor’s this morning,” Sister Bernarda said. “Last night, Sister Eugenia noticed that Sister Gertrude was holding her arm against her side. When she asked Sister Gertrude about it she found out that Sister has been having sharp pains in her arm and back. Both are symptoms of a heart problem, so Sister Eugenia called the doctor immediately. Sister Gertrude’s better this morning after a new round of medication, but the doctor still wants to see her.”

Sister Agatha knew that Sister Gertrude’s heart was slowly wearing out and there was little that could be done. Sister Gertrude was in her midseventies. Although not nearly as elderly as Sister Clothilde, who they all suspected was in her nineties, Sister Gertrude’s health was failing. For a while, Reverend Mother had tried to forbid her to do any work whatsoever, but that had made things worse. Stripped of all the tasks that defined her, Sister Gertrude had sunk into a deep depression. Habits of a lifetime were hard to break. These days Sister
Gertrude attended each liturgical hour and helped Sister Maria Victoria with the job of cellarer, the monastery’s bookkeeper.

“Her body’s turning traitor,” Sister Agatha said sadly. “Good thing she agreed to move into the infirmary so Sister Eugenia could keep a closer eye on her. But going back to what you were saying, would it be possible for you to take her in to the doctor? The owner of the SUV has been located and he and Sheriff Green are coming over this morning. The owner wants to tow the car away himself once the sheriff’s department releases it.”

“I’m glad the sheriff is handling this personally,” Sister Bernarda said.

“He’s taken it upon himself to watch over our monastery,” Sister Agatha said. But it hadn’t always been that way. Many years ago, he’d seen it as an adversary. It was no secret that she and Tom had enjoyed a close relationship before she’d become a nun. But that was all ancient history.

“Sheriff Green values your feedback and your observations, so you’re right to stay,” Sister Bernarda said. “If you need help in the parlor, Sister de Lourdes is outside, clearing the area next to the north wall. She’s concerned that all the dried leaves that have collected are a fire hazard, particularly after she spotted several discarded cigarette butts there yesterday. Obviously someone working at the vineyard next door flicked them over.”

“That’s strange. I don’t remember ever seeing a worker in that section. There are no grapevines even close to the property line.”

“Someone’s been hanging out around there, so we should speak to Eric about it. As caretaker he’s responsible for whatever happens there.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Sister Agatha said. “I have a feeling it might be one of the homeless people passing through.”

Hearing the sound of a car driving up, Sister Agatha glanced out the parlor window. “It’s the sheriff.”

“Go take care of that and I’ll drive Sister Gertrude to the doctor’s,” Sister Bernarda said.

Sister Agatha switched on the answering machine and walked outside. She had to force herself not to cringe as she saw the damage to the gate and wall in broad daylight. The monastery was kept in perfect order for a reason. Living in the presence of God meant that everything—from sweeping the floors to painting a wall—was done in service to Him.

As nuns, they lived simple lives centered on prayer. But now a vital barrier that allowed them to remain separate—to maintain that single-minded purpose that helped them draw closer to the Divine—had been breached.

Nuns were only human, and their prayers for an unrepentant world would now be tainted with negative emotions like anger. The inescapable fact that many on the outside didn’t understand or value the importance of what they did had just been brought home to them in a very personal way.

As Tom came over to greet her, she made up her mind. Today, with God’s help, she’d find someone willing either to take responsibility for fixing their wall, or donate funds for the repairs. That would help everyone at Our Lady of Hope Monastery put the accident behind them.

Tom Green was a tall man with brown hair that had turned almost white around his temples. His tanned face was weathered, his green eyes filled with the perpetual wariness of one who’d seen too much of the world.

The sheriff nodded a greeting. “Jack Miller’s on his way over to pick up his stolen vehicle. I checked his whereabouts
last night just to make sure it wasn’t him driving. Jack’s got an ironclad alibi. He was at Cottonwood Mall with friends who vouched for him.”

“Then who did this? Were any fingerprints left behind?” she asked.

“Nothing on the vehicle or the air bag, but we lifted a clear print from one of those beer cans and got a match. It belongs to Elizabeth Leland, a sixteen-year-old with a record for shoplifting. We also got a partial that matches another teen by the name of Leeann Karon.”

“Those names sound vaguely familiar….”

“Elizabeth and Leeann both attended St. Charles at one time, so they may have been students of yours. Didn’t you do substitute teaching there last year?”

Sister Agatha nodded. “There was a shortage of staff, so Father Rick asked for our help,” she said. She’d taught one or two days at a time whenever needed, but as hard as she tried, she couldn’t put a face to the names.

“You’ll probably recognize the girls when you see them, and you’ll have the chance shortly because Liz refused to talk to us unless you were present. I advised her to get an attorney, but she said she trusts you more.”

Hearing vehicles, Sister Agatha looked up the road and saw a beat-up heavy-duty truck with oversized tires pull up by the damaged SUV. Just then, another man arrived in a new-looking sedan and parked on the opposite side of the road.

“That’ll be Jack Miller and his claims adjuster. From what I hear, Jack’s already spoken to Paul Gonzales about the bodywork, so now it’s just a matter of paperwork.”

Sister Agatha walked over with Tom to greet the new arrivals. A thin man in his late twenties stood by the wrecked SUV, shaking his head and grumbling to himself, while the
second, older man in a western suit with a bolo tie walked around the scene, taking photos. Sister Agatha studied the younger man—Miller, apparently—for a moment. He was around five-foot-six and certainly much shorter than whoever had driven the SUV last night. Miller was wearing jeans with a loop for a hammer or tool and a dusty, sleeveless T-shirt, making her suspect he’d come directly from a construction site.

“I just bought this beauty, Mr. Wade, and now look at it,” Jack Miller moaned. “Will my insurance cover the damage?”

“It was used when you bought it, Jack, and the deductible is pretty steep. You might be better off selling it for parts and buying a new one,” Wade answered, continuing to take photos.

“Can’t afford it. If the engine hasn’t been damaged the rest can be repaired little by little. But the insurance has to cover enough to put me back on the road.”

“You’ll have to deal with an approved mechanic if you intend on keeping it insured.”

“Paul Gonzales here in town is on your list,” Miller said.

“I’ll go talk to him, get his estimate, then tell you how much of it I can cover,” Wade said, shaking hands with Miller. Nodding to Sister Agatha and Sheriff Green, he walked back to his car and drove off.

Miller shook his head once more, then turned to Sheriff Green. “What a day. And it’s just beginning.”

“You’ve got that right.” Tom said, then introduced them.

“Sorry about your wall and the gate, Sister, but we both took a hit last night, didn’t we?” Jack muttered.

She nodded. “Your vehicle will be in good hands with Mr. Gonzales. But I’m concerned about the damage to our property. I assume your liability insurance will cover the damage to our wall?”

He gave her a startled look. “No way I’m taking responsibility
for this, Sister. I’m a victim here, too. Somewhere out there is a car thief.
He
did this. Don’t blame me, and don’t blame my insurance company. Mr. Wade says that in New Mexico,
your
insurance company has to pay for the wall damage because I wasn’t at fault.”

“We’re not a wealthy monastery, Mr. Miller, and our insurance deductible is very high. Would you be willing to make a donation to our repair fund? We would be happy to keep you in our prayers in exchange. And do remember that our Lord always looks kindly on those who help us continue to serve Him.”

“I can’t afford it, Sister. I’m sorry.” He began hitching the wreck to the pickup with a towing rig. “A lot of the repairs that’ll need to be done to provide me with transportation again will be coming out of my own pocket. I’m strapped right now.” He glanced over at Tom. “But once you find the person who stole my SUV, you can nail his hide to the wall.”

A few minutes later Sister Agatha watched him drive off. “Whatever happened to charity?”

“People aren’t in a charitable mood when the system’s about to screw them over. He pays his car insurance, but there’ll be a gap the size of the Grand Canyon between the value the SUV had to him and what the insurance will cough up—unless he sics a lawyer on them. And that could end up costing him more money than it’s worth.”

“Do you think the girls had anything to do with the car theft? All I know for sure is that the driver was a tall man,” Sister Agatha said.

“The prints put both girls in that SUV at some point,” Tom said, “and Miller denies knowing either of them.”