“Will you be able to handle both scriptorium work and parlor duties?”
She nodded. “So far today, everything’s running smoothly. The computer records and saves the orders, and I can process them later and print out the invoices and labels. And if I get into a jam, Sister Bernarda will help me.”
“We’ve got it covered,” Sister Bernarda said.
“We’ve got some good news, too,” Sister de Lourdes added. “The workmen arrived early and are making great progress on our wall.”
“That’s wonderful!” Sister Agatha said, taking a quick look out the front window. “Everyone’s hard at work, so it’s time for me to do the same. I’ll see you two later.”
Sister Agatha stepped out of the parlor and whistled for Pax, who came running immediately. Sister Agatha smiled. The dog took the job of escorting her to town very seriously.
A short time later, Sister Agatha drove out of the monastery, passing the repair crew at the wall. Step by step, God would help them find solutions to all the challenges they were facing. Holding on to that thought, Sister Agatha drove on to Bernalillo and the Catholic Charities office, praying all the way there for guidance.
An idea had come to her late last night after night prayers. She’d been trying to remember who in town drove a silver Toyota or a Kia. That’s when she’d recalled Terri Montoya, the caseworker at Catholic Charities. A silver Toyota had been parked in one of the staff slots when she’d visited with Terri there a few days ago.
The more she considered it, the more convinced she’d grown that it was a lead worth pursuing. Even if Angie Sanchez had put on a lot of weight and dyed her hair, one thing would have remained constant—the shape of her eyes. That slightly oriental tilt was striking, and unusual in a Hispanic woman. Now, Sister Agatha prayed that she was tracking down Angie, not just the woman Paul remembered stopping by for gas.
When they arrived at the Catholic Charities tiny office, Sister Agatha was disappointed to see that the silver Toyota had been replaced by another vehicle in the staff parking spot. Father Rick Mahoney, the monastery’s chaplain, was standing in front of a desk talking to Lucinda Gomez, one of the caseworkers, as she walked in. Before becoming a priest, Father Rick had been a pro wrestler who used the stage name “Apocalypse Now.” Although that had been at least ten years ago, Father Rick still retained his bulging muscles and heavy frame. He worked out daily because, as he said, a priest needed to remain fit to do God’s work.
“Hey, Sister Agatha.” He greeted her.
“Hay is for horses, Father. Good morning,” she said cheerfully.
“Hello, Sister,” Lucinda said with a bright smile. “What can I do for you this morning?”
“I was looking for Terri. Do you know where I can find her?”
“She’s visiting Mrs. Griego this morning,” she answered. “Is there something I could help you with?”
“No, I really needed to talk to her,” Sister Agatha answered. “When will she be back in the office?”
“Probably not until tomorrow. She has several other stops to make after Mrs. Griego’s. Today’s her turn to be out in the field. We alternate manning the office and going on calls. You want her to call you when she checks in?”
“No, I’d rather talk to her in person. If you’ll give me her address, I’ll try to meet her there at lunch or after work.”
The woman hesitated, then shook her head. “I can’t. We have a very strict policy against giving out employee information. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Sister Agatha said, and managed a smile. “If there’s anyone who can understand adherence to a rule, it’s a nun. I’ll just keep a look out for her silver Toyota and catch her here when she returns.”
“That would be fine,” Lucinda responded.
“I’ve always felt that rules should be tempered by common sense,” Father Mahoney said, giving Lucinda an engaging smile.
Lucinda shook her head. “Father, if God had given the ten commandments to you instead of Moses, you’d have negotiated Him down to five.”
Father Mahoney laughed, then, his own business apparently completed, walked back outside with Sister Agatha. “You look worried about something, Sister. Is there something I can do?”
“I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “Maybe you can,” she added, then explained in confidence why she’d come, wishing aloud that she had a copy of the newspaper article to show him.
“I have an online subscription to that paper. Come over to the rectory and let’s use my computer.”
Sister Agatha followed Father Rick to the small rectory that stood beside the tall adobe-and-brick church near the center of old Bernalillo, along Camino del Pueblo.
Sister Agatha pulled up beside him, parking in the graveled parking area. She was just taking off her helmet when Pax made a beeline to the door, anxious to go collect his usual treats. As Frances opened it, he slid to a stop at “sit.”
“At least he’s too well trained to knock someone down,” Frances said, bending over to pet him.
Frances, in her sixties, had been the rectory’s housekeeper for as long as anyone could remember. Her faded brown hair in a bun, she held the door open for all of them.
“Sister Agatha, with your permission I’ll take Pax into the kitchen with me. I’ve been saving some cookies for him.”
“Sure, go ahead, but make him ‘sit’ or ‘down’ before you give him any treats.”
“Of course,” Frances said, then glanced down at Pax and gave him a wink.
Sister Agatha sighed, knowing in her gut that Frances had no intention of requiring Pax to do anything except eat.
“Don’t worry,” Father Mahoney said, chuckling. “Pax isn’t going to get spoiled that quickly.”
“Are you kidding? Did you see him racing to the door? He knows.”
Father Rick led the way to his office, then went to his desk and began the computer search. It took them several minutes to find the article with Angie’s photo. Father Rick saved the image to a photo-editing program, then enlarged and studied it for several moments. “There are physical similarities—the shape of her eyes, as you said—but the rest….” He shook his head.
“I never claimed that it was an identical match … but what do you think?”
“Terri’s a good hundred pounds heavier, and look at the hair. The woman in the newspaper photo has short, dark hair. Terri’s hair is light brown and past her shoulders.”
“You can change hair color in less than an hour, and weight gain … well, it happens. The shape of her eyes, though … that’s impossible to fake.”
“Okay, so it could be Angie Sanchez. What next?” Father Rick asked.
“I thought I’d confront her and see what she has to say. Unless I miss my guess, she’ll be getting a substantial inheritance from her uncle. If Terri and Angie are the same person, she may end up thanking me.”
“You know it’s really strange how things work out,” he said after a moment. “You’re interested in learning about Terri, and Terri’s always been curious about the monastery … to the point of being annoying sometimes.”
“What do you mean?”
“Food or clothing donations for St. Francis’s Pantry sometimes get dropped off at the Charities office. Usually I go pick those up and deliver them to the monastery, but when Terri’s at the office, she always insists on coming along. Yet instead of helping, all she does is drive me crazy. She floods me with questions about the nuns and the monastery. Her curiosity is insatiable—and sometimes she crosses the line.”
“How so?”
“Well, one day when we were there I got a call on my cell phone. I became distracted and by the time I hung up, I couldn’t find Terri anywhere. Sister de Lourdes was helping put the food away in the pantry, and went with me to look for her. After several frantic minutes, we finally found Terri over by the cemetery.”
“That’s way off limits,” Sister Agatha said firmly. “It’s part of our cloistered grounds.”
&n
bsp; “I know. I chewed her out like crazy but she said that it was so peaceful at the monastery she’d been unable to resist going for a short walk. She apologized repeatedly but, after that, I always kept a closer eye on her. Come to think about it….” He held up his hand, then checked the small screen on his pocket messenger. “I almost forgot. I’m scheduled to meet with her at the pantry today. One of our parishioners made a canned-food donation and Terri offered to pick it up at the woman’s house and meet me at the monastery a half hour from now. I made a note to call you—but I guess in person’s okay,” he added with a sheepish smile.
“I’ll go get Pax, drive back to the monastery, and wait for you there.”
As she stood, the phone began to ring. Father Mahoney picked up the receiver and, after a second or two, his face grew somber. Sister Agatha slipped out of his office discreetly, giving him some privacy, and went into the kitchen. Pax was there gnawing contentedly on a rawhide bone.
“What’s this? Cookies and rawhide?”
“He wasn’t too excited about the cookies. They’re my sister’s recipe. She’s been trying to create the perfect eggless cookies, but so far it’s been a disaster. These were flavorless—even to the dog.”
Before Frances could say anything more, Father Rick came into the kitchen. “Sister Agatha, I wonder if I can impose on you.”
“Certainly, Father. What do you need?” she asked.
“There’s been a serious auto accident and I’ve got to go anoint the injured. Can you meet Terri at the pantry for me and handle things?”
“Of course, Father. Is there anything else I can do?”
He glanced around. “I need to find my keys.”
“On your desk, Father. You set them down by the keyboard.” Sister Agatha said.
“Oh, yes! I remember.” He hurried out of the room.
“Anointing has to be one of the most difficult of all duties,” Sister Agatha said.
Frances nodded and remained silent for a moment. “When he comes back, he’s always very quiet, and tends to spend quite a bit of time alone in the chapel,” she said. “Mortality isn’t an easy thing for anyone to face.”
As Sister Agatha drove home those words stayed in her mind, reminding her of John Gutierrez’s predicament. The prospect of dying alone had to be one of the most frightening things any human being could experience. She said a prayer that she’d be able to help him find his niece and also that the injured people Father Rick was going to see would feel the comfort of God’s ever present love.
As Sister Agatha drove through the monastery’s partially restored entrance, she saw Terri’s silver Toyota parked by the front of Saint Francis’s Pantry, a red-beaded rosary dangling from the rearview mirror. No one was inside the car, and neither of the other externs were in sight. Remembering Father Rick’s warning that Terri liked to wander, she glanced around quickly.
Unable to spot her, Sister Agatha parked in front of the pantry and climbed off the bike. Pax jumped out and, anticipating her routine, ran to the pantry door. It was always kept locked because of its proximity to the street, so wherever Terri was, it wasn’t inside this building.
Sister Agatha hurried to the west side of the grounds, where their cemetery was located. She’d just passed the circular rose garden that bordered the statue of the Blessed Virgin when she saw Terri standing beside the eight-foot-high block wall near the banco.
“Terri,” Sister Agatha called out.
Terri jumped, startled, then waved. “Hi, Sister Agatha. I’ve been waiting for Father Mahoney. He’s due any moment, which is why I didn’t go to the monastery’s front door. No sense in bothering anyone there until he arrives.”
“This whole section is off-limits—cloistered. Father’s told you that before, and there’s also a sign on the gate.”
“Oh, but the gate wasn’t locked. I thought it meant that the cloister was up ahead—you know, inside the building.”
Rather than argue, Sister Agatha led her quickly away to St. Francis’s Pantry. “Father has been detained, so he sent me to meet you.”
“You have such a beautiful place. Does your monastery host retreats?”
“No, we’re not that type of religious order. The only facility we have that can house outsiders is an area we’ve set up inside the pantry for overnight guests. It’ll be used mostly by family members who come to visit the sisters.”
After Sister Agatha unlocked the pantry door, they worked together to carry the boxes of canned goods from Terri’s trunk to the small building.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you, Terri,” Sister Agatha said. “One of our benefactors approached me recently and asked me to find his niece, Angela Sanchez.”
At the mention of the name, Terri suddenly stiffened.
Pretending not to notice, Sister Agatha continued. “Angela used to live in this area and ended up testifying against some criminals at an Albuquerque trial. Her uncle, John Gutierrez, is dying and wants desperately to find her.”
Although there’d been a gleam of recognition in Terri’s eyes when she’d heard John’s name, her expression quickly became neutral. “Why are you telling me this?” she asked casually.
“I think you know,” Sister Agatha said softly.
“We’ve unloaded everything, Sister Agatha, so I should be leaving now. I have other stops,” Terri said, heading back to her car.
“John Gutierrez is a sad, lonely man, dying from cancer. He’s got no other family. Finding Angie will help him die in peace. And Angie might end up getting a sizeable inheritance in exchange for that act of kindness, too. Her uncle became a very successful businessman in the Denver area. If you’re who I think you are, that money could give you a financial cushion that’ll help you stay under the radar for as long as you want.”
Terri sat down on a wooden stool that had been moved over against the wall and remained silent for a while, staring at the floor. Finally she spoke. “Sister Agatha, I don’t know how you figured it out, but by exposing my new identity you may have turned me into a target. Who else besides you knows who I really am—was?”
“I only shared my suspicions with Father Mahoney and Sheriff Green, nobody else. And it’ll stay that way if you wish.”
“It’s absolutely vital that it’s kept confidential, Sister Agatha. The man looking for me won’t stop searching until one of us is dead. I don’t know how much you’ve learned, but a few years ago I witnessed a man burying someone he’d just murdered. The killer was convicted, but later he escaped from jail and came looking for me. I was lucky, and managed to get away—just barely. To this day James Garza is still at large.”
“We don’t have a television or subscribe to local newspapers at the monastery. Can you fill me in a bit more?”
“Garza was involved in a multistate land-fraud deal, which is why the Feds were involved and why I was offered a chance to become part of the Witness Relocation Program. But life in hiding, so far away from everything I know, was tougher than I ever dreamed. I put on close to ninety pounds thanks to the pits of a depression. One day, realizing that my looks had changed drastically, I decided to leave the program. I was betting that Jimmy wouldn’t be able to recognize me even if he saw me on the street.”
“But if Garza’s still at large, why on earth did you come back to this area? That’s got to be the worst strategy in the world!”
“It depends on your viewpoint, Sister. The fact is I seriously doubted that he would ever come back here. He grew up in this town, and tons of people knew him. This is the safest place for me.”
“Hiding in plain sight—more or less,” Sister Agatha commented thoughtfully.
“Yeah, but I hadn’t really planned to move here for good. It just worked out that way. After leaving Phoenix, where I’d been relocated, I decided to stop by Bernalillo—to see it one last time, you know? I took a side road near the river and passed by a beautiful little adobe casita for sale by owner. I fell in love with the place and the price couldn’t be beat, so I bo
ught it. At first, I thought I’d fix it up and use it as income property. But after I moved in and made the repairs, it really felt like home to me, and I just didn’t want to leave.” She paused. “But that’s a whole other story. Let’s get back to what you were saying about my uncle John. The last time I saw him he was a hunting guide at some mountain lodge, but that was years and years ago. How did he know I was back in town?”
“Apparently a business associate of his saw you at one of the local malls.”
“And recognized me right off the bat?” she asked, surprised. “Who?”
“I’m not sure.”
Terri pursed her lips, lost in thought for several moments before speaking. “Uncle John has—or had—black hair with a little gray on the sides, a rough complexion, and some scars on the side of his face. He’s lived a hard life and looks it. He’s around five-nine, taller than me.”
“That fits the general description of the John Gutierrez I’m working for. But I can’t verify his height. He’s bedridden, confined to his room at the Siesta Inn. All I can tell you is that he very much wants to see you before he dies.”
“Understand, Sister, that this is a tough call for me. I really don’t want to come out into the open. It would be stupid for me to point a finger at myself. What if Jimmy Garza’s watching my uncle?”
“That’s a good point, and since these are special circumstances, I suggest that we notify Sheriff Green and let him handle the security details for us.”
“That plan sounds okay, but give me a chance to think this through. I have to make a few more stops, but we might be able to get together later today. Why don’t you give me a call on my cell this evening and we’ll settle things then.” She brought out a Catholic Charities business card, wrote a telephone number on the back, then handed it to Sister Agatha.
Sister Agatha placed the card into her pocket. “All right.”
“I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings, Sister Agatha. If what my uncle’s looking for is a relative to take over his business, he’s going to be disappointed. I want that clear up front. I don’t care if he’s a banker instead of a backpacker now. If he leaves me an inheritance, I intend on cashing it out.”
False Witness Page 11
