False Witness (7 page)

“Could this be the result of the hacker’s work again?”

“If it is, he hasn’t bragged about it like before so there’s no way I’d be able to say for sure. We’re
supposed
to be protected with that new firewall. For now, I’ll go ahead with our plan and hope it was just a software glitch.”

“Sounds good.” She was about to say more when Sister Bernarda came in, nodded once, then left.

“I’m needed back in the parlor. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Sister Agatha found Sister Bernarda on the phone as she went into the room.

“Here she is now, Sheriff. Would you like to talk to her yourself?” After a second’s pause, Sister Bernarda handed Sister Agatha the phone.

“ ’Afternoon again, Tom,” she said.

“I had my deputy stop by the Siesta Inn, and he confirmed that John Gutierrez is there and bedridden. At first the motel’s manager refused to have oxygen tanks in the room because they’re highly combustible, but they worked it out after Gutierrez gave her an unbelievably hefty deposit.”

“If he made the trip all the way from Colorado to get our help under those circumstances, I’m going to accommodate him and go by his room.”

“It sounds legit, but if you have a problem, call me.”

As she hung up, she glanced at Sister Bernarda. “I’m heading into town to talk to Mr. Gutierrez. He wants to negotiate a deal that might result in our monastery getting that strip of land Reverend Mother spoke about during Chapter.”

“I figured as much from your side of the conversation,” she said, then added. “Can you run an errand for me on the way?” Seeing Sister Agatha nod, she continued. “Stop by Catholic
Charities and ask them to arrange for some help for Mrs. Griego. The poor lady broke her leg last week and desperately needs someone to bring her a hot meal and do some cleanup. Her neighbor called earlier on her behalf.” She handed Sister Agatha a slip of paper with Mrs. Griego’s address and home number.

“I’ll take care of it,” Sister Agatha said, recognizing the name of one of their few regulars at Mass. “That explains why we didn’t see her Sunday.”

Sister Agatha grabbed the donated cell phone they always took with them when away from the monastery, stepped outside, and whistled. A heartbeat later, Pax came running around the corner of the building.

She smiled as he continued toward her at full speed. He looked as graceful as a cougar when he ran. Then, just when it looked like he’d be crashing right into her, he suddenly stopped and dropped his hindquarters in a perfect “sit” position.

“Come on. Get into the Harley. Road trip!”

They were on their way to town a minute later, Pax seated in the sidecar to her right, enjoying the blast of air.

It was almost four, and the air was starting to cool. In September, evenings tended to be brisk, though the days were warm unless it was raining and gusty.

Minutes later, as she passed the familiar, colorful storefronts, many dating back decades, people on the sidewalk saw them and waved. The Spanish-style cantinas, gas stations, and even the feed store were all part of the old downtown Bernalillo she’d come to love and include in her daily prayers.

Sister Agatha drove directly to the Catholic Charities office near the old church. She parked in the staff slot next to a silver Toyota with a rosary hanging from the rearview mirror and walked inside the former employment agency building.
The first thing that struck her was that the staff of four was down by two. Cutbacks had affected everything here recently. Harder times meant fewer donations and volunteers, and that, in turn, meant services had been curtailed.

The desk closest to the door was manned by a woman in a ruffled blouse typing at breakneck speed. As Sister Agatha approached, the brown-haired lady glanced up and then smiled when Sister Agatha introduced herself.

Going around the desk to pet Pax, she looked up at Sister Agatha. “I’ve heard so much about you, Sister! The dog, too! I’ve been dying to meet you. I’m Terri Montoya.”

Sister Agatha had Pax shake hands and from Terri’s enthusiastic response, Sister Agatha had no doubt she was a dog person.

“So how can I help you, Sister?” Terri asked as she scratched Pax behind the ears.

Even though she was a good one hundred pounds overweight, Terri moved fluidly and with grace. She had a lovely face, too, with beautiful, almond-shaped eyes and an easy smile.

Sister Agatha told her all she knew about Mrs. Griego. Throughout, Terri chewed her gum loudly and with an open mouth, a habit Sister Agatha detested, though she tried not to show it.

Terri wrote down the information, then glanced up at her. “I’ll send a caseworker over to assess the need as soon as we can. But it may take a few days. As you can tell, we’re understaffed.”

“With all the cutbacks, I’m surprised you’ll be able to get to her so quickly,” Sister Agatha said, glancing at the two empty desks.

“The senior people just quit,” she said pointing to the
empty desks. “I was hired after they left and pretty much had to figure out the job on my own. I’ve only been here three weeks, and I can see now why someone might want to just give up. The workload is staggering. But I’ll stick it out. I need the job.”

“Things will get better. They always do. Just remember to keep praying,” Sister Agatha said.

“I will, Sister. You pray for me too, okay?”

As Sister Agatha walked back outside, she checked her watch. It was almost four thirty now. She’d head over to see Mr. Gutierrez next.

The Siesta Inn was less than five minutes away, west of Camino Real and adjacent to one of the ancient irrigation ditches dug by farmers perhaps four hundred years earlier. Sister Agatha parked near the office of the long, one-story, pueblo-style building that circled a small interior courtyard. Freshly stuccoed and well maintained, the inn stood as a silent testimony of days gone by, when it had been the hacienda of one of the wealthiest Hispanic families in the area.

Leaving the Harley in front of one of the large, peeled-log parking lot barriers, she climbed off the cycle and started toward the front door of the office. She’d just reached the steps when she spotted Ralph Simpson beyond the entrance to the interior courtyard, leaning against an old cottonwood, having a smoke. Seeing her, he crushed his cigarette with his heel and came outside the enclosure to greet her.

Sister Agatha stopped and waited for him to reach the brick-lined walk and join her. “Good afternoon, Mr. Simpson.”

“Just Ralph, Sister,” he answered. “I was on break, so I decided to have a smoke outside and wait for you. I spoke to Sister Bernarda earlier, and she said you’d be by within the hour.”

He paused, frowning, then continued. “I’m sure glad she has the cold and not you. It wouldn’t be a good idea for anyone with a respiratory virus to get near Mr. Gutierrez right now.”

“What makes you think Sister Bernarda has a cold?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.

“I just assumed … well, her voice sounded choked up, you know? Maybe it was just allergies.”

Sister Bernarda had no allergies as far as she could recall. Sister Agatha thought it over, and realized that Sister Bernarda had probably been crying in the privacy of the parlor. After the accident the other night, they’d never discussed what was bothering her. Sister Agatha made up her mind right then to find out as soon as possible what was getting her so upset.

“I’m glad you’ve accepted my boss’s invitation,” Ralph said, bringing her focus back to the business at hand. “But I’m not sure your dog should go into the room with us,” he added, glancing down at Pax. “John’s respiratory problems …”

“Say no more. Pax will understand. I’ll leave him at ‘stay’ outside in the hall. He’ll wait for me.”

Once inside the inn they walked down the hall, passing tall, hand-carved pine doors with names like “Sage” and “Chaparral” instead of numbers. Noticing that Ralph was holding his shoulders rigid, and every once in a while cast a nervous sideways glance at the dog, she added, “Relax, Ralph. Pax is harmless.” Making sure she remained between the dog and him, she continued. “But he’s picking up on your anxiety and that’s making him a little tense.”

He gave her a taut smile. “Sorry, I’m just not that crazy about dogs,” he muttered.

As they reached the final door, which had a sign proclaiming they’d reached the “Chamisa” room, Ralph reached for a card with a magnetic strip and opened the door.

Sister Agatha gave Pax the hand signal to “down and stay,” then went inside. The suite was large, and at quick glance appeared to be divided into the sleeping area, a sitting room, bathroom, and a small kitchenette in an alcove. A man propped up by pillows sat up on a high four-poster bed, his breathing loud and labored. He was hooked up to a pulse oximeter, an oxygen and heart monitor that was attached to his finger. Its steady, rhythmic beeping echoed in the background.

“Wonderful, Sister, you’re here,” Mr. Gutierrez said in a stronger voice than she would have expected under the circumstances. “Please make yourself comfortable.”

She stood near the door, not wanting to be too far away from Pax in case someone came down the hall and reacted to him.

“Don’t keep John talking too long, Sister. He tires easily, though he’d cut out his tongue before he’d admit it,” Ralph whispered, leaning into her.

“Will you take a seat here by the bed, Sister?” John said.

“Thanks, but our monastery’s dog is right outside at ‘stay’ and I’d like to remain close by.”

“Why don’t you bring him inside the room? It’s okay,” John added. “I have difficulty breathing, but it’s from physical deterioration, not allergies. As long as he doesn’t try to get up on the bed, he’ll be fine.”

“Thank you, Mr. Gutierrez.” Sister Agatha opened the door, gave Pax the command to “come,” then placed him at “down” and “stay” just inside. “He’ll be fine right there.”

Ralph pulled a chair closer to the bed for Sister Agatha then retreated silently.

“Make yourself comfortable, Sister,” John said, then coughed, the sound deep and ominous.

As Sister Agatha took a seat, she studied the man before
her. In contrast to his manicured nails and expensive gold ring, John’s face attested to a rough life lived with a ready fist. His nose had been broken more than once, and there were little scars on his left cheek as well as one long one by his chin. His eyes were heavy-lidded, dark circles rimming each. Though he couldn’t have been more than fifty-five, he was pale and didn’t inhale as much as gulp in a breath and then let it out in an uneven gasp. Yet he seemed to be struggling less than a cardiac patient like Sister Gertrude did at times, or the asthmatic roommate she’d had in college.

“I’ve read a great deal about you in the local paper,” John said, then added, “I lived in this area some years ago, and when I moved away to Colorado I missed it, so I decided to subscribe and keep up with the news.”

She nodded politely, hoping he’d get to the point of the visit soon—the job she was supposed to do. Curiosity was nipping at her heels.

As if reading her mind, he continued. “I’m a dying man, Sister Agatha—big C. My niece is my only living relative, and I’ve got reason to believe that she’s living in this area now. I’ve hired private investigators, of course, but they’ve only come up with strangers who have the same name. It’s possible she’s gotten married, but if she has, there’s no record of it in this state or any of the adjacent ones. I have no leads, but you seem to be very resourceful. After reading about your exploits working with the police, I knew you were just the person to help me.”

“I’ll need to know a lot more, Mr. Gutierrez,” she said cautiously.

He nodded and continued. “My niece and I lost track of each other several years ago, not on the best of terms, and it’s important that I find her quickly. I have no children of my own, so she’ll be inheriting everything I’ve worked for—my
corporation and its assets. But my reasons for needing to find her go beyond that … it’s about continuity and family. I can’t die in peace until I’ve had a chance to talk to her again.” He paused, as if gathering his strength, then glanced at her and continued. “I’m prepared to offer you—well, the monastery—that strip of land the Archbishop and I discussed briefly over the telephone. I’ll also pay for any expenses you may incur if you accept the job.”

Ralph Simpson stepped over and held out a check from a Denver bank that had already been made out for five hundred dollars.

“That’s just to cover your initial expenses,” John said. “I’ve also had the necessary papers drawn up to transfer ownership of a substantial portion of land to the monastery—should you find my niece—along with a generous check for your services.”

He waved toward the night table, where a thick manila folder was resting. “That deed would expand your borders and give you a very effective buffer zone against any possible future development. Go ahead and look for yourself, then take it with you and have an attorney vet it out.”

Sister Agatha reached over and skimmed through the papers, which appeared authentic and accurate from her limited knowledge of legal documents. Although she knew enough about business not to allow her enthusiasm to get the better of her, this was clearly a Godsend. Knowing honesty was called for now, she fought the temptation to keep her mouth shut about any misgivings and take the deal immediately.

“I don’t know what you’ve read about me,” Sister Agatha said, “but have you considered the possibility that I may not be able to find your niece?”

“I have full confidence in your abilities, Sister Agatha,” John said simply. “But even if you fail, you’ll still get to keep
whatever remains of that check. I’m sure your order can always find a use for the money. And by at least trying to find her, you’ll be helping a dying man.”

Christian charity almost compelled her to accept on the spot. But she knew better. The vow of obedience bound her. “I’ll talk to Reverend Mother this evening. The decision is totally up to her. But, tell me, what makes you think that your niece is in this area, and what’s her name?”

“Her maiden name was Angela—Angie Sanchez. She’s my late sister’s daughter. She was fresh out of high school when her mother and father died in an auto accident on Highway 528. Angie’s the only family I have now. Several months ago, after giving up on private investigators, I put out feelers through my business associates and one of them—a local Realtor—told me she’d seen Angie at the Cottonwood Mall, the shopping center on Albuquerque’s northwest side. You’ve probably heard of it.”