“What exactly was Benny supposed to do to me and Pax?” Sister Agatha asked, her voice taut.
“He was told to scare you—the method was left up to him. He got five hundred bucks for the job.”
“They’re both creeps,” she said softly, then lapsed into a long silence. “Tom, I’d really like a look at the Garza case file.”
“Since the man remains at large, it’s considered an active case—off-limits to those outside of law enforcement.”
“Garza may be in this community right now and I really need to know everything I can about him. Come on. If you can’t trust a nun, who can you trust?”
He smiled. “I’ll leave the file on my desk while I go get myself a Coke—which shouldn’t take me more than five minutes. Got it?” He went to the cabinet near his desk and pulled the file out. “Want a Coke?”
“Split one with me?”
“I’ll bring two cups and a Coke … in five minutes,” he said, and left.
Sister Agatha leafed through the pages quickly, skimming the investigator’s reports. She’d already gathered most of what was in there from the papers and other sources, including transcripts of the hearing. Then, as she read the report from the medical investigator, her blood turned to ice.
She’d known that Mark Rio’s body had been found not far from their monastery, but she’d never realized how close. By her estimate, Rio had been buried in a shallow grave just a few hundred yards from their walls.
By the time Tom walked back into the office, she was sitting bolt upright in her chair, one hand on her rosary.
He placed a foam cup filled with cola in front of her. “What’s on your mind?”
“Mark Rio’s body was found pretty close to our monastery.
Put that together with the fact that we had someone crash through our gate, taking part of the wall with it, and that someone’s been watching our monastery recently. There’s a circumstantial case building here.”
“What exactly are you thinking?”
“Maybe Terri does know where the money’s hidden. In fact, she might have been the one who crashed through our wall to make sure she had access to the grounds at night. She’s always been interested in the monastery. So let’s say that the killer hid the money near Rio’s body—someplace where it was bound to be safe—like on our grounds. Maybe that’s where the money is and why we’ve had so many problems lately.”
“Even if I buy that theory—which is filled with lots of speculation and very little evidence, I might add—why did Terri decide to come back now? She could have recovered the cash a long time ago.”
“No, not really. She was in protective custody, and when she left the program, she had to watch out for Garza,” Sister Agatha said, then after a thoughtful pause, continued. “When she came back to town, she discovered that a lot of things had changed, too. We’d had a new wall put up, for one. When that was compromised, we began using Pax to guard us so there was still no way for her to get in. Now with the threat of developers coming into the area, she may have been scared that the sudden influx of people would guarantee that the money would stay out of her reach forever. Or even worse, it could have ended up in some lucky heavy equipment operator’s pocket.”
“It’s a theory, but that’s all it is.”
“It also has a few holes in it,” Sister Agatha admitted reluctantly. “Terri’s not tall enough to have required the SUV seat to be pushed all the way back, which is where it was after the crash,” she said. “And I’m convinced that I saw a man running away, not a woman.”
“If Garza has Terri, her life is hanging by a thread. Her cell phone is still out of service, but I’ll check out Terri’s computer today. That’s usually a treasure trove of information.”
“Have you searched Terri’s computer at work?”
“I can’t—not unless Catholic Charities gives me permission.”
“I don’t think you’ll have a problem with that under the circumstances. She’s a missing employee, and the computer records aren’t her property,” Sister Agatha said. “While you’re busy with all that, I’m going to dig a little deeper into John Gutierrez’s past. I have an idea I want to check.”
“Okay, but be careful.”
Once outside, Pax jumped gracefully into the Harley’s sidecar. “We’re going to the rectory, Pax,” she said, and the dog barked almost as if in approval.
A short time later, as she pulled up behind the church, she spotted Father Mahoney up on a ladder. He was trimming some cottonwood branches that were right above a utility wire. Seeing the ladder sway, Sister Agatha ran to steady it. “Father, what on earth are you doing?”
Frances came out just then. “Father, you told me that you were only going to cut a few low branches!”
“I finally got the hang of this tree cutter thingie so I wanted to keep going,” he said.
“The diocese doesn’t need an injured priest, Father,” Frances said sternly. “My cousin’s got a crane with a bucket on the end. He’ll be by later to take care of those branches.” She glanced at Sister Agatha. “Thank God you pulled up when you did. I heard the motorcycle, looked outside, and that’s when I saw what Father was up to!”
Father Mahoney looked at Frances, then at Sister Agatha. “I’m perfectly capable of doing this. But, if it’ll make you both feel better, I’ll wait for Frances’s cousin.”
“Good,” Frances said.
Father Mahoney smiled at Sister Agatha. “So what can I do for you and your trusty sidekick today?”
“I really need your help. Can we go into your study?”
“Of course, Sister Agatha.”
As they reached his office, he gestured for her to make herself comfortable, then closed the door behind them. “Tell me what’s troubling you, Sister.”
She told him how she’d found, then lost, Terri—really Angie Sanchez. “If John Gutierrez’s search for his niece stems from the best of motives, then I should continue to work for him. Heaven knows the monastery needs that buffer zone and the extra money for our gate. But what if there’s more to it than that? What if we’re both being used by Terri’s most dangerous enemy—Jimmy Garza?”
“I’m not sure how to advise you on this, Sister Agatha,” he said slowly. “I know you’ve discussed the criminal aspects with the sheriff, but there’s much more than that to consider here.”
“Father, you’ve got access to something that might help me decide what I should do next. Father Anselm kept files with bios and information on benefactors who could be counted on to help financially whenever the need arose.”
He nodded. “Yes, that file’s still in the computer. Let’s go have a look.” He typed a few commands, then called up the file. “And here’s a John Gutierrez—date of birth is December 10, 1940. There’s no Social Security number listed. But he hasn’t made a donation since 1991. Here’s a note saying that he began making donations to the monastery instead. It’s dated a year before Father Anselm died.”
Sister Agatha nodded, then did some quick math in her head. “From the birth date, that would make him sixty-seven. It can’t be the same man. The John Gutierrez I’m dealing with doesn’t look anywhere near that age.”
Father Mahoney shrugged. “Have you ever looked at Dick Clark? A face lift—okay, several—some hair dye, and it’s hard to figure out anyone’s age.”
Sister Agatha nodded. “Good point.”
“The more I think about Terri, the more I wish I’d been more alert right from the beginning,” Father said. “I should have realized that there was something weird going on. Remember I told you how interested she always was in the monastery?” Seeing her nod, he continued. “One time I even found her taking photos of the grounds when my back was turned. I was furious. I asked her for her camera, one of those digital ones, so I could erase the images. But then we got distracted by a delivery. I went back to help Sister Bernarda. And you know what? I never did get the camera from her.”
“What was she photographing, do you re
member?”
“Come to think of it, she was taking photos of the grounds, not the buildings.”
The phone rang and Father answered it. After exchanging a few quick words with the party at the other end, he glanced at Sister Agatha. “One of our parishioners needs me. He’s been very sick, and his daughter has been pressuring him to request an anointing. He wouldn’t hear of it because, in his day, anointing the sick was called Last Rites. But now he’s asking me to come, so things must be really bad. I better hurry. I should be back in a few hours, if you want to talk again,” he said, then hurried out.
Alone, Sister Agatha walked to the kitchen. As she’d expected, Frances had a box of dog treats open and was chatting with Pax as if he were human.
Seeing her, Frances smiled. “Can I offer you a cup of coffee, Sister, or maybe a glass of iced tea and a sandwich? It’s nearly lunchtime and I bet you haven’t eaten anything. Isn’t lunch the big meal of the day at the monastery?”
She nodded. “It is.”
Frances pulled out some French rolls from the canister. “I made these earlier today,” she said, beaming. “Came out great, too, if I say so myself.” She then began to layer several different kinds of cheese, tomatoes, lettuce leaves, and turkey slices. “Wait until you taste this, Sister.”
“I didn’t mean for you to go through so much trouble,” she said. “I would have been happy with peanut butter and jelly.”
“Not if this is going to be your main meal today,” she said, piling it on. “Take a taste while I get you some iced tea.”
Sister Agatha took a bite and smiled. “This is truly beyond good, Frances.”
Frances picked up a glass from the dishwasher, looked at it with a critical eye, then washed it again in the sink. “I’ll get your drink in a jiffy, Sister. Just let me rinse this glass.”
A second later, Frances placed a glass of iced tea in front of her. “I think I got all of the marks.”
“Forget it. It’s fine,” Sister Agatha picked up the glass, took a swallow, then, as she set it back down, saw the clear imprint of her finger on the glass. Slowly an idea began to form in her mind.
Finishing lunch quickly and thanking Frances, she hurried out with Pax to the Harley. She knew exactly what she had to do next.
19
SISTER AGATHA ARRIVED AT THE SIESTA INN A SHORT while later and parked in the back lot where the staff left their cars.
Using the side door, she went inside the building, the dog at her side. All she needed was some trash—John Gutierrez’s to be specific.
If she could get something John had handled and then take it in for fingerprints, she’d know once and for all who she was dealing with. The discrepancy between his appearance and the age stated on his records still bothered her.
Sister Agatha walked down the hall leading to John’s room, trying to think of a way to get what she needed. It promised to be tricky, because she’d have to do it without his knowledge. As she drew closer, she heard the sound of angry voices, and, a second later, Ralph stepped out of John’s room.
Seeing her, he smiled stiffly. “Hello, Sister. What brings you here?”
“I came to update John and assure him that I’m still working.” She heard the sound of hurried footsteps, a pace that was too fast to belong to an invalid, and tried to look inside the room, but Ralph blocked her, closing the door behind him.
“John’s had a hard morning, Sister Agatha. I’ll tell him you’re here and see if he feels well enough to meet with you.”
Still curious, she tried to look past him as Ralph opened the door and stepped inside. Nothing out of the ordinary caught her eye before the door closed once again. Seconds later Ralph returned.
“He’s ready for you, Sister Agatha. You can bring the dog, too.”
She went inside and saw John in bed, a breathing therapy machine close by but not in use at the moment.
“I suspect from the expression on your face that you’ve had no luck finding my niece again, am I right?” Seeing her nod, John continued before she could speak. “Then we’ve reached the end of the road, and I’m wasting my time here. I’m leaving for home tomorrow morning. This trip has been too hard on me.” He began to cough, a deep rumbling sound reminiscent of bronchitis, though in his case it could have indicated something more serious.
“Can I get you something to drink?” she asked quickly.
“Water,” he said, on his side, leaning forward and gasping for air as he pointed to the nightstand.
“Here you go,” she said, picking up the plastic bottle, a common local brand, and holding it out to him.
He took several long sips, emptying the container, then lay back against the pillow.
Sister Agatha kept the water bottle in her hand. It was too bulky to stick it into her habit’s pocket, but she wasn’t walking out without it.
“Sister, let me take that from you,” Ralph said, suddenly appearing beside her, though she hadn’t heard him approach.
She had no choice but to hand it over. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw him drop the bottle into the waste bucket by the dresser.
As John began coughing again, Ralph led her out of the room. “John needs to rest now.”
Ralph said good-bye, but, even after he’d closed the door, Sister Agatha remained in the hall. While she’d been speaking to Ralph, she’d definitely heard someone in the room moving about quickly. Yet no one except Ralph and John had been inside. Something wasn’t right.
As she stood there, wondering how to get the contents of the waste basket still in the room, she heard a familiar voice behind her. “Pax is so terrific. Someday, for sure, I’m getting a dog just like him.”
Sister Agatha turned around and saw Liz Leland coming up the hall pushing a housekeeping cart filled with linens and cleaning supplies.
“What on earth are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in school?” Sister Agatha asked.
“We had a half day today, a teacher in-service for the public schools, so I decided to put in a few extra hours at work,” she said. “I’m trying to save up some money. College tuition is expensive.”
“Will you be going to UNM?”
“That’s my plan. I want to study computer programming. I’m hoping to get a scholarship, too. That’s why I’ve been working so hard to get my grades back up.” She met Sister Agatha’s steady gaze. “Did you ever find the person who framed me and my friends?”
“No, but I will.”
“Cool.” When Sister Agatha didn’t move, she added, “Is something wrong?”
“I need your help, Liz,” she answered. “Can you empty the trash basket in the Chamisa room and bring me the empty water bottle that’s there? Just don’t touch it, or let the people inside suspect anything.”
“Fingerprints, huh? Done deal, Sister. Where do we meet afterward?”
“How about by the ice machine?” she suggested.
As Liz went to John’s door, Sister Agatha took Pax back outside. After standing by the ice machine for twenty minutes, she began to get worried. What if Liz had tipped them off? Sister Agatha brought out her rosary and began praying. Before she’d finished the fifth Hail Mary, she saw Liz pushing the utility cart out the door, humming, a bright smile on her face.
“I’ve got it!” she said and pointed to a trash bag on the bottom shelf of the cart. “I kept it separate from the rest of the trash.”
“Thanks a million, Liz.”
“Tell me as soon as you can what this was all about, okay, Sister? I’m dying of curiosity!”
“I will. Promise.”
Sister Agatha hurried out to the Harley, white trash bag in hand. After placing it in the nose of the sidecar where it would be out of Pax’s way, the two of them drove back to the sheriff’s station. Sister Agatha parked near the main entrance and hurried inside.
Tom, who was talking to the desk sergeant, came over immediately. “I didn’t expect to see you back here today. What’s up?”
She motioned him to on
e side, then, whispering, told him what she’d done. “The bottle won’t prove anything in a court of law, but I want to know whose prints are on it, besides my own. I just have to know who I’ve been dealing with.”
“I’ll have it processed,” he said. “In the meantime, I’ve asked one of my people to check out Gutierrez, using the birth date you got. We have access to several databases and might be able to find a good photo.”
It took over forty minutes for the print comparisons to be finished. When Tom returned to join her, he had a somber look on his face. “One set of prints belongs to Jimmy Garza. And there’s more. Millie did a search on John Gutierrez, Angela Sanchez’s uncle. It turns out he owns a lodge up in southern Colorado, and spends most of the year backpacking in hunters and fishermen. Millie got him on the phone, and he says he hasn’t heard from Angie or any of his relatives in years. The man you’ve been dealing with isn’t Angie’s uncle, though it’s clear he’s really done his homework, maybe even including plastic surgery, to pass as Gutierrez. The way I see it, either he or Ralph Simpson is actually Jimmy Garza, or maybe Garza’s been to see them very recently. I’m hauling both those guys in here right now.”
“But what if they’re mixed up in Terri’s disappearance? By bringing both those men in, you could be condemning her to death.”
Tom pursed his lips, then nodded. “I’ll stake out the Siesta Inn for the next twenty-four hours and make sure we tail them if either goes anywhere. But, after that, I’m moving in on them.”
“Let me help. I could keep an eye on Gutierrez while you focus on his assistant.”
“No way. Too dangerous.” He picked up the phone and made arrangements to have an officer watching the motel effective immediately. “Go home. I’ll be in touch.”
Sister Agatha left the station in a dark mood. She tried to come up with a plan that would allow her to get actively involved but, before she could work out the details, her cell phone rang. It was Sister Bernarda.
Sister Agatha pulled the motorcycle over to the side of the road and removed her helmet so she could take the call. “I’m here,” she said at last.
False Witness Page 17
