False Witness

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “Putting our home on the line has to be our last option,” Reverend Mother said. “Remember St. Paul’s words, ‘Owe no man anything, but to love one another.’ ” She took a deep pensive breath and looked around the room. “Any suggestions? Anyone?”

  “Our Lord will provide for us as he’s always done. We just have to be patient, Mother,” Sister Ignatius said softly. “Remember the words from Philippians that were part of our morning prayers today,” she said, and brought out her breviary. “ ‘Never worry about anything, but tell God all your desires of every kind in prayer and petition shot through with gratitude’…. That’s all we have to do. He will take care of the rest. Remember the coin in the fish’s mouth. All we have to do is stay alert for the opportunity that’s sure to come our way.”

  Reverend Mother smiled. “You’re right, child. Let’s all pray with gratitude for the gifts we receive daily. This trial will be our opportunity to draw even closer to Our Lord.”

  She stood, then concluded the meeting with a Bible verse. “We do not fix our gaze on what is seen but on what is unseen. What is seen is transitory; what is unseen lasts forever.” She paused, then looked at the sisters. “Let us now continue our work with the blessing of God.”

  As their business came to a close, Sister Agatha met with Sister Bernarda and Sister de Lourdes. “Maybe it’s time for us to go out into the community and see if we can solicit a few cash donations, materials, or volunteers to help us with the repairs to the gate and wall. We’ll take the novena cards that assure people we’ll be praying for them and their intentions as a thank-you for their donations.”

  “The merchants don’t listen to me like they do you and Sister Agatha,” Sister de Lourdes said. “Last time I tried to get a donation of white paint for our walls, but the best I could get were two gallons of mauve and light green.”

  “We made do,” Sister Bernarda said flatly. “It was enough.”

  Sister Agatha smiled. Her own room—a cell, as they were called here—was now a blend of both colors. Leftovers of each had been combined, yielding a pleasant, light coffee tone. “There’s no rule that requires us to have white walls. And the walls really needed a coat of paint.”

  “But you were able to get Mr. Joyner to give us white when we needed to do the halls,” Sister de Lourdes said, looking at Sister Agatha.

  “That’s only because he had plenty sitting around when I came by, that’s all. Timing is important.”

  “I think my time will be better spent in the scriptorium. We’re backlogged there at the moment, but I think I can catch up today if I get down to it. Our system is now more hacker resistant, according to Merilee.”

  “Get to work then,” Sister Agatha said.

  “I’ll take the first shift in town if you’ll stay in the parlor, Sister Agatha,” Sister Bernarda said.

  “That’s fine,” she answered.

  “I’ll find out if Sister Eugenia needs me to pick up anything from the pharmacy, then I’ll be going.”

  “May The Lady and her Son bless your efforts,” Sister Agatha said, then hurried to the parlor.

  The first thing Sister Agatha did when she arrived was unlock the front doors. By then, it was noon and the bells were ringing the Angelus, a devotion to honor the angel Gabriel’s joyous message to the Virgin Mary. Then came Sext, one of the three little liturgical hours, so-called because they were of shorter duration.

  Sister Agatha sat at the desk and began to honor the liturgical hours with a series of Pater Nosters. She’d only just begun when there was a knock at the parlor door.

  “Deo Gratias,” she said, honoring God first, then opened the door and invited the well-dressed stranger inside.

  “Welcome to Our Lady of Hope Monastery. I’m Sister Agatha. How may I help you?” she asked, inviting their guest to take a seat.

  He was pleasant looking, some might have even said handsome, and was wearing a brown, western-styled suit and cream-colored tie. His eyes were dark brown and his hair a shade too dark to be genuine for a man in his midforties. Her first impression was that the visitor was a salesman but, if so, he had no sample case and no business card in his hand—yet.

  “My name’s Ralph Simpson, Sister. I’d like to speak to Reverend Mother,” he said, flashing her an engaging smile.

  People who came to the monastery on business for the first time weren’t always aware of the rules. “I’m afraid an audience with Reverend Mother is not as simple as all that,” she said patiently. “Extern nuns like myself—those of us who don’t take a vow of enclosure—are here to handle all the monastery’s day-to-day business. Only on rare occasions does Reverend Mother actually come to the grille,” she said, pointing to the latticed ironwork that separated the enclosure from the outer room.

  “I understand,” he said, nodding. “I represent one of your contributors, John Gutierrez. He owns the winery adjacent to this monastery. No date was set, but I believe Reverend Mother was interested in discussing the possibility of a buffer zone along the property line to protect the monastery from any pending development.”

  Sister Agatha gave a silent thanks to God. “Yes, that’s true. As a matter of fact she’s authorized me to meet with Mr. Gutierrez.”

  “Good. John actually sent me here to make you an offer on his behalf. What he’s proposing is an exchange, really. John’s heard of your skills as an investigator, Sister Agatha, and he’d like you to help him with a problem. In return, he’s prepared to make a very generous donation to this monastery—the title to a fifty-foot-wide stretch of land along our common property line.”

  Sister Agatha smiled, excitement pulsing through her. “I would like to speak to Mr. Gutierrez directly. Will this be possible?”

  “He would have come here himself, but John’s sick and he’s having difficulty getting around. The trip from Colorado proved more difficult for him than he’d anticipated. Can you meet him at the Siesta Inn?”

  “Yes, but first I’ll have to make arrangements for someone to take over as portress, and I’ll need Reverend Mother’s permission before I leave the monastery. I’ll be happy to give you a call later today and let you know when I can come.”

  “All right then. We’ll look forward to hearing from you.”

  After saying good-bye, Sister Agatha watched Ralph Simpson climb into a large blue van and drive away. Unlike their Antichrysler, his car scarcely made any sound at all. Feeling envious and knowing it was a sin, she pushed back the emotion and sighed as the vehicle disappeared from sight.

  It was shortly after noon when Sister Agatha locked the parlor doors, switched on the answering machine, and hurried down the hall to Reverend Mother’s office. Her superior had just returned from Sext and was there with Sister Gertrude.

  Hating to interrupt, but knowing Mother would want to know the latest news right away, Sister Agatha knocked lightly on the open door. After the usual greeting, Sister Agatha quickly explained what had transpired.

  “I don’t quite know what to make of this,” Reverend Mother said slowly. “Mr. Simpson didn’t give you much information. What could Mr. Gutierrez want you to do, identify some crooked employee of his?”

  “I recognize Mr. Gutierrez’s name, Mother,” Sister Gertrude said. “He’s sent us a few generous checks since he took over ownership of the vineyard, so it can’t be because he can’t afford to hire a private investigator.”

  Reverend Mother lapsed into a thoughtful silence. At long last she looked at Sister Agatha. “The future of that land affects us directly. The problem is we don’t know much about this man. We need to check him out with Sheriff Green first. If the sheriff feels it would be safe for you to go, then do so, and take Pax with you.”

  “All right, Mother. I’ll report back to you as soon as I know more,” Sister Agatha said.

  When Sister Eugenia showed up to wheel Sister Gertrude back to the infirmary, Mother signaled Sister Agatha to remain.

  “Sister Gertrude looks so much better since she moved into the air-co
nditioned infirmary, Mother,” Sister Agatha observed as soon as they were alone. “I don’t think she would have made it through this past summer if she hadn’t.”

  “What almost killed her wasn’t the heat, it was not feeling useful. Forcing Gertie to rest and keeping her from the tasks she’d performed all her life did her more harm than good.”

  “You had the best of intentions, Mother,” Sister Agatha responded. “After all, you were following her doctor’s orders.”

  “Yes, but I should have remembered that work is a vital part of everything we are. Purpose and happiness are inexorably linked,” Reverend Mother said as she walked with Sister Agatha to the door.

  Sister Agatha returned to the parlor worried, and aware of how much depended on her now. Looking up Sheriff Tom Green’s number, she dialed his direct line. It took a few minutes for him to answer and, when he did, he sounded tense and rushed.

  “Did I call you at a bad time?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “No, it’s fine,” he answered, an edge in his voice. “I just had a run-in with a defense attorney and they’re seldom the bright spot in my day. What’s up?”

  She told him about their visitor and his offer. “I was hoping you could check out Ralph Simpson and John Gutierrez for me before I go over there.”

  “That’s a good idea—safe and smart. Give me about a half hour, then I’ll call you back. Sound good?”

  “Wonderful. Thanks, Tom!”

  Lunch, the main meal of the day, had already been served in the refectory, but portresses usually stayed at their desks. Today it was Sister Ignatius who brought a plate of spaghetti to the inner door leading into the parlor. As usual, Sister Agatha nearly missed her whisper-soft knock.

  “Thank you,” Sister Agatha said, taking the warm plate from her hands, and closing the door separating the parlor from the cloister again.

  At her desk, she stared at the spaghetti unenthusiastically. Since there had been another bumper crop of tomatoes this year and Smitty’s Grocery had also made a large donation of pasta to the monastery, meals would be predictably Italian for the foreseeable future.

  A half hour came and went, but the phone remained silent. Around one thirty Sister Bernarda came into the parlor. “Your Charity, I’d be happy to take over your duties here if you could help Sister de Lourdes in the scriptorium. She’s been getting a lot of customer complaints today. According to our records, we’re shipping and billing properly. Yet some of NexCen’s clients are telling us that we’re sending them more than they ordered. Sister de Lourdes thinks it may be a bug or an incorrectly entered value in the program. But NexCen is extremely upset and sent us a very harsh letter. Their sales manager thinks we’re trying to cover up for our own incompetence. Apparently their Web site records match that of the customers’, so they’re convinced the error is ours.”

  “Maybe the hacker is responsible. I’ll go try and help her.” Sister Agatha headed to the enclosure door, stopped, and glanced back at Sister Bernarda. “How did it go in town? Were you able to get any donors?”

  She shook her head. “I had a few who said they’d get back to us, but it didn’t look promising.”

  “You did your best. That’s all any of us can do.” She glanced at the phone for a moment, then looked back at her fellow extern. “I’m waiting for a call from the sheriff regarding our benefactor, Mr. Gutierrez. Let me know what he says as soon as you hear. It’s important.”

  Sister Bernarda nodded. Elaborate explanations were seldom necessary here.

  5

  SISTER AGATHA STOOD BESIDE SISTER DE LOURDES, who was seated at the computer keyboard, and read aloud the directions in the software manual. All five computers were networked, so programs on the server—the main computer—could be accessed from any of the terminals.

  “If this doesn’t work, we’ll have to call in the tech from NexCen again. But I’d rather avoid that, considering all the time she spent here before,” Sister de Lourdes said.

  “Maybe what you’ve already done has fixed the problem. If we don’t get any more complaints, let’s call it a win,” Sister Agatha said. The last thing they needed now was to lose the NexCen contract.

  Sister de Lourdes nodded. “I’ll monitor everything from the server, and call the clients and verify their orders before we get anything ready to ship. If the problem’s still there, I’ll ask NexCen to reissue us the software just in case something’s been damaged or there were bugs in the versions we’ve installed.”

  “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 d
onations 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?”