Watching Eric, Sister Agatha realized that the heavy weight of mourning had been lifted off his shoulders. The vines he’d so loved had called him back to life.
“I’ve entered San Miguel Rojo in a major national competition this year. Luz del Cielo Vineyards has been quiet for too long. If it wins, maybe John Gutierrez will change his mind about selling to the developers and give me a chance to buy him out.”
They drove back to the main house and Eric invited her inside. Once in the kitchen, he poured two mugs of coffee, then placed one before her without asking. “Help yourself to sugar, if you like. I also have cream in the fridge.”
“No cream, thanks. Sugar’s all I need,” she said, then waited for him to continue.
“When I sold him Luz del Cielo, John Gutierrez agreed to give me first refusal rights if he ever decided to sell the place. He assured me that he’d set the price at market value—no more. Then a month ago he suddenly changed the terms and put the land up for sale.”
“You mean he raised the price?”
“Considerably,” Eric answered. “Yesterday he told me he’s received an offer that’s ten percent above mine. I can’t match that.” He paused, his voice unsteady now. “I never would have sold this winery to Gutierrez if I’d known he wouldn’t honor his word. I should have insisted he put it all down in writing. But at the time I really needed the money—not more lawyer fees. I thought our word was sufficient.”
“In this day and age, if it isn’t in the contract….”
“I know that now. Honor all too often takes a backseat to profits.”
“I don’t have any pull with John,” Sister Agatha said in a heavy voice. “But I’ll talk to him for you anyway and see what I can do. Believe me, the monastery doesn’t want to see a developer stacking up houses beside our walls, either.”
“I appreciate your help. I still believe he should honor his word.”
“So do I,” Sister Agatha said. “Have you tried to work something out with him—like maybe tacking on a percentage of the winery profits in addition to the sale price?” she suggested.
He nodded. “I tried several things, even sending him a sample bottle of our newly developed wine.”
“Does it look like the sale to the developer will go through?”
“From what I’ve heard, yes,” he said. “I spoke to his assistant a little while ago and Ralph said it was all in the hands of the attorneys—a matter of dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s. Once the paperwork’s ready, John intends to sign.”
Sister Agatha considered the news. Since she still hadn’t found Terri, the monastery probably wouldn’t get the allotment of land he’d initially offered them, either. The news was as bad as it could get. “I better talk to Reverend Mother. This will have serious repercussions on our monastery. But before I go, I need to ask if you’ve seen anyone hanging around near our common wall. We’ve spotted a man watching us two or three times now, but when we approach, he disappears.”
“No, I haven’t seen anyone, but I haven’t been outside much lately. Manipulating the fermentation process is the key to making wine, and that takes careful monitoring. I’ve been spending most of my time in the winery.”
“Okay then. Thanks. Pax and I better be on our way. Take care of yourself, Eric.”
Sister Agatha arrived at the monastery as the bell for Vespers rang. She’d missed most of the liturgical hours and, more than anything else, she felt the very real need to reaffirm the spiritual connection that made her His. Sister Agatha entered the chapel as the choir nuns filed into the cloistered section and took a seat in their respective stalls.
After Vespers they went into the refectory for collation, their simple dinner meal. They ate in silence except for the daily reading. Tonight, Sister Eugenia stood behind the lectern and read from the life of St. Isidore. Afterward, Sister Agatha helped Sister Clothilde clean up. Once done, they both joined the others outside. Pax was already there, walking with Sister Gertrude. The dog seemed to understand that the elderly nun needed encouragement to continue her exercise walks and would nuzzle her hand, trying to spur her on.
Reverend Mother had returned to chapel to leave some flowers by the altar but would soon join them again. Sister Agatha made up her mind to speak to her about the sale of Luz del Cielo Winery as soon as she did. Aware of soft footsteps behind her, Sister Agatha turned her head and saw Sister Ignatius approaching.
The elderly nun smiled broadly. “I’ve got wonderful news. The monastery’s peace will soon be restored. I received a sign today.”
Sister Agatha waited, understanding that Sister Ignatius’ signs were usually ordinary things that lent themselves to a dozen other rational explanations.
Sister Ignatius smiled, her expression filled with understanding. “Knowing how much comfort a clear sign would bring to the sisters, I asked for something more difficult this time. Do you remember that rose bush by the cemetery—the one that died all the way to the ground, and then came back up? It hasn’t flowered since.”
“Sister Ignatius, I’m not even sure that’s still a rose. Something came up in its place, but it could just as easily be a tall, hardy weed or a shoot from one of our other plants.”
“Come take a look.” Sister Ignatius led her to the bush, then parting the branches in the middle, called her attention to the two small red roses in its center. “I asked for two roses. One is a sign our peace will be restored; the other, that Sister Bernarda will soon find comfort in God’s gentle hands.”
As Sister Ignatius walked away, Sister Agatha stared in stunned silence at the roses. Then she heard Reverend Mother’s voice behind her.
“She showed you the roses, I see,” Reverend Mother said. “Her faith is really quite extraordinary.”
“It is, isn’t it,” Sister Agatha agreed, amazed. “But, despite all this, I have some bad news,” she said, and told Reverend Mother about the impending sale of the vineyard.
“We’ll have to cling to God and the promise His roses hold out to us,” Reverend Mother said.
As the bells for Compline rang, Reverend Mother bowed her head and silently headed back inside. Sister Agatha followed, answering the summons that made them a part of Our Lady of Hope Monastery.
Shortly after morning prayers, they each left for their work stations. Sister Agatha and Sister Bernarda met in the parlor.
“Are you getting any closer to finding answers for Mr. Gutierrez?” Sister Bernarda asked. “We sure could use another of his checks right now. We haven’t been able to get Mr. Curtis to change his mind about fixing the gate on credit,” she added. “He still insists we pay in advance.”
“The woman I found has disappeared again and nobody knows where she’s gone. I’m having to start from the beginning again, almost.”
“Then we’ll continue praying,” Sister Bernarda said.
“Benedicite, Sister,” Sister Agatha said and stepped out into the cool morning air. As she glanced around for Pax she found him beside the Harley, anticipating a trip.
Sister Agatha drove slowly down the graveled road to the main highway, her final destination the sheriff’s office. She’d traveled less than a mile when her skin began to prickle. She was being watched. She could feel it. Knowing instinct was often the result of an unconscious observation, she glanced around.
Sister Agatha studied the waist-high vegetation on both sides of the road, but saw nothing. Trusting her gut, she rounded a long curve, alert to her surroundings, and caught a glimpse of a figure standing in the shadows of an old cottonwood. Sister Agatha slowed quickly, turned around, and headed back to confront the person. She was tired of cat-and-mouse games.
Pax sat bolt upright, hackles raised, though it was impossible for her to say if he was sensing danger or simply reacting to her own fears.
It took her less than thirty seconds to reach the spot where she’d last seen the figure. Pulling off the road, she drove up beneath the tree, but no one was there anymore. As she got off the bike she heard t
he rumble of a vehicle pulling away. There was a dirt road alongside an old orchard ahead and she spotted the cloud of dust the passing vehicle left in its wake.
“Pax, stay,” she ordered, intending to go check for footprints.
The ground was strewn with plant debris and underbrush but she managed to find two footprints beside the road next to a set of fresh tire tracks. The footprints could have belonged to just about anyone in the area—except for one thing. They were a size reminiscent of Bigfoot. Surely there weren’t many people with that shoe size around. If her suspicions were correct, the man she’d seen today was the same one who’d crashed into the monastery gates.
Sister Agatha called Tom on her cell phone and reported the incident. “If I’m being watched this closely, I must be making someone very nervous.”
“Yeah, me,” he snapped. “By turning up the heat, you’re placing your life in danger. Let me have one of my deputies take a look around the back roads near the monastery. Maybe we’ll get lucky and he’ll spot whoever’s been lurking around.”
“I appreciate it. I’m on my way to your office, so expect me within fifteen minutes,” Sister Agatha said.
“Better give me a few hours. I’ve got my hands full here right now.”
Sister Agatha placed the phone back in her habit’s deep pocket. Discovering someone was still keeping her under surveillance had unsettled her. Terri was gone, so there was no reason for it.
The unexplained always made her nervous. “We might as well go home, Pax. Maybe visiting the chapel and asking Our Lord for help is the best thing to do now.”
16
SISTER AGATHA WAS WALKING DOWN THE LONG HALLWAY when Reverend Mother came out of her office and motioned to her. A moment later they entered her office. “Do you think there’s any way for you to dissuade Mr. Gutierrez from selling the vineyard to the developer? If not, can you convince him to donate the land he offered us adjacent to the grounds? You did find his niece. It’s not your fault she didn’t want to see him.”
“I’m pretty sure he’ll continue to insist that I find his niece again first, Mother. He’s results-oriented. Our problems don’t concern him.”
“The world is such a hard place these days,” Reverend Mother said.
Sister Agatha could hear the weariness in Reverend Mother’s voice. Shouldering the responsibility for the monastery took a heavy toll on her. The darkened circles under her eyes attested to more than one sleepless night.
“Mother, forgive me, but you look exhausted. Have you been getting enough rest?”
Reverend Mother brushed the question aside with a wave of her hand. “I’m fine. Please don’t worry, child.”
Sister Agatha walked out of Mother’s office feeling helpless and detesting her own inadequacy. Somehow she had to find a lead to Terri. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to view the case dispassionately. What she lacked was information. Maybe this was a good time for her to dig into the details of the case that had driven Angela to assume a new identity.
An idea formed in her mind, and, inspired once again, she hurried out the side door and to the Harley. Leaving Pax behind this time, Sister Agatha headed to the downtown Albuquerque library, more than a half hour’s travel time away.
After an extensive periodical search, Sister Agatha got the court date and the name of the presiding judge in James Garza’s trial. She then headed to the county courthouse, a few blocks away. Case files were sealed, but court records were public record, available to anyone. Though she’d never be able to get specific information about the witnesses, the court’s transcript would shed more light on Angie’s enemy.
It was lunchtime now, and most of the office staff at the courthouse was gone. Only one young woman remained at her desk behind the high counter, eating a sandwich. Seeing Sister Agatha, she stood up immediately. Sister Agatha knew then that she was undoubtedly a former Catholic school student.
“I’m Emily Gomez, Sister. How may I help you?”
With a smile, Sister Agatha told her what she needed.
Emily disappeared into a back room. About five minutes later she returned with a small folder. “The records are saved on microfiche. I’ll put the sheet on a viewer and show you how to use it. You’ll have to scroll through the records until you find the right file number. If you find a page you’d like to copy, just push the print page button. Copies are ten cents a sheet.”
Familiar with the technology, Sister Agatha located the documents quickly and skimmed the materials. The man Angie had testified against, James Garza, had used a real-estate office as a front and brokered fraudulent land deals in three states. After the murder of his partner, Mark Rio, Rio’s family had testified against Garza. They’d claimed that Rio had been an unknowing accomplice and, in actuality, just another of Garza’s many victims. Garza’s accomplices had all disappeared by then, but Garza himself was arrested and convicted of murder, mostly on Angie’s testimony. She’d been on the office staff of his front business. Garza had loudly protested his innocence, pointing his finger at others, Angie included, but the jury had quickly brought in a guilty verdict.
The illegal profits from the scam—what had turned out to be an indecently large sum of money—were never recovered. The money had been withdrawn from several banks, but the trail stopped there. Garza was offered a sentencing deal if he’d agree to return the money he’d stolen, but, to the very end, he’d claimed not to know what had become of it. On the last page of the file Sister Agatha found a police addendum stating that Garza had escaped custody while awaiting transfer to the state penitentiary.
Sister Agatha leaned back in her chair, lost in thought. Would Jimmy Garza have risked capture by returning to the area just for the sake of revenge? Or maybe the cash was an even more powerful incentive. It was possible he’d never had time to recover the money—his priority being to make a clean getaway. Maybe the possibility of reclaiming that cash and exacting revenge at the same time had become a temptation too powerful to resist, and that was why he’d returned to town.
Sister Agatha made a note of the men and women who’d handled the case. Although she didn’t recognize any of them, she was sure Tom would know at least a few. She then removed the microfiche sheet from the viewer and returned it to Emily. “Thank you so much. Please don’t let me interrupt your lunch any more than I already have.”
“Actually, Sister, it’s lonely in here right now. Would you like a tuna sandwich? I brought two, but I sneaked a couple of doughnuts earlier and I’m not that hungry anymore.”
“Thanks. I’d love a sandwich,” Sister Agatha said, going around the counter at Emily’s invitation.
They ate in silence for a while, then Emily looked at her. “If you don’t mind my asking, what’s your interest in the Garza case, Sister?”
“I’m looking into it on behalf of someone else. Are you familiar with it?”
She nodded. “I remember the events because I knew Mark Rio. I was really surprised to see him tied into that mess. He was a Lobo football star before then. Though he never knew I was alive, we both went to UNM at the same time and I had a major thing for him.”
“So what do you think—did Rio go bad, or was he just another victim of Garza’s scam, as his relatives claimed?”
“Both,” she answered after a brief pause. Seeing the confusion on Sister Agatha’s face, she continued. “Mark always assumed that he’d be playing pro ball one day. But he was injured his last year and that was that. I think he had a tough time adjusting to that change in his career plans, and Garza hooked him by promising to make him rich, you know?” “Was Mark the gullible sort?”
“No, not really, but to understand how Garza reeled people in, you would have had to see him in action. He was super smooth. When you looked at him you just wanted to believe him. He might have gotten off if it hadn’t been for that woman’s testimony—an employee of his, I think.” She paused for several long moments, lost in thought, then added, “But after all was said and done, Garza es
caped through an identification mix-up at the county jail. Personally, I think he just conned his way out.”
“Charm and money can be a powerful combination,” Sister Agatha answered.
“But, you know, it’s the missing money that intrigues people most. Garza had cleaned out all his bank accounts by the time he was arrested—around a million dollars worth of cash. With the cops on his tail, Garza had to make a fast run for it, so a lot of people believe the cash is still hidden around here someplace.”
“Interesting theory … a million dollars just waiting to be found.”
Sister Agatha thanked the woman, then returned to the Harley, glad to be leaving the city behind. The incident at the school and the fear she’d felt was still fresh in her mind. It was undermining her courage and the resolve she needed now to continue to push for answers.
Sister Agatha turned wholeheartedly to God, knowing no one could help her now except Him. “Forgive me, Lord. By being afraid, all I’m really doing is saying that I don’t trust You to handle the situation. You’re in control, not me. I’ll find whatever answers You want me to find. You’re with me, inside my heart, and that means I already have all the help that’s necessary.”
It was then that moment she began to understand a little more about what Sister Bernarda was going through. They all strived for perfection, but their humanity meant that they’d often fail. The only sure gift they could bring to the Lord daily in exchange for all His sacrifices was the determination to try and do better.
And that is enough for God, her inner voice assured her, giving her peace.
When she reached the monastery, Sister de Lourdes was sitting behind the desk in the parlor. Looking up from her breviary, she smiled at Sister Agatha. “Welcome home.”
“How is our scriptorium work going? Any more problems?” Sister Agatha asked.
Sister de Lourdes shook her head. “No, things have been running smoothly. Sister Ignatius found out that St. Isidore of Seville is the patron saint of computer workers, so she asked him to pray to the Lord for her,” she said. “And it’s working, too, because, so far, we haven’t had any more glitches.”
False Witness Page 15
