The Prodigal Nun

by Aimée Thurlo

  “Let him go. The officers always enjoy seeing him.”

  As she did, she saw Fritz Albrecht watching from one of the desks. She nodded to him, then followed Tom to his office. “I called you as soon as I could,” she said.

  Tom closed the door, looking at the stains on her habit, then sniffed the air. “Interesting smell. Just so I’m sure I got it right—the van nearly struck the Harley on the first pass?”

  “I think he wanted to force me off the road, maybe cause me to have an accident without risking injury to himself. When it didn’t work, he followed up with the melon, which he’d obviously intended to use eventually. He wasn’t aiming to hit me with it, I don’t think. He wanted my fear to do the job for him and cause me to wreck,” she said, then added, “I recovered the wig and mask for you, handling both as carefully as I could. They’re the cheap Halloween costume kind.”

  “Where are they?”

  “In the sidecar. Just follow your nose.”

  “I’ll have a deputy go get them,” he said, then stepped out into the hall.

  After he came back, Tom said nothing, lost in thought for several moments. At long last, he spoke. “This has gone beyond scratched messages, threatening e-mails, and phone calls. You’ve made a very dangerous enemy who has obviously decided to up the stakes.”

  She told him about her visit to the nursery and the Sanchez neighborhood, and what she’d learned. “The question that needs to be answered is whether I was the target—you know, me personally—or was it the monastery?”

  “Does it matter? You’re the face of the monastery in the community.”

  “Yes, but so are Sister de Lourdes and Sister Bernarda. Are they in danger, too? And what about Sister Jo?”

  “I wish I could tell you,” he said with a shrug. “Let’s go back to what we know. You’ve given me a description of the van. Now tell me about the driver. Was it Gerry Bennett? He seems to be the focus of most of what you and I have been hearing lately.”

  “I don’t know. It all happened too fast, and he was shaded by the vehicle’s interior. I thought about it on the way here, too, but the only things I remember clearly are his sunglasses and hat…baseball cap, I think. I was just too busy trying to keep Pax and me alive to see anything else.”

  He nodded. “I hear you.”

  “But the white van, it was an older model, I think, and had a sign on its side and across the rear doors. The lettering was blue. I wish I could tell you what it said, but I couldn’t make it out.”

  “The colors will help. At least we can rule out plain white vans or other white vans with different color lettering.”

  “Unfortunately, that still leaves a lot of possibilities,” she said. “White vans with signs are everywhere.”

  “I’ll check Gerry Bennett’s location during the time of the incident. Until I have something other than vague gossip, I can’t bring him in.”

  “I understand.” Sister Agatha signed the statement he’d had typed up, then left with Pax minutes later. Anxious to wash the smell of rotten melon off the cycle before returning home, she pulled into Paul Gonzales’s gas station. Some of the greenish pulp had splattered on the sidecar and stuck there, as well as on the engine itself, and the heat from the air cooled V-twin was enhancing the smell. Seeing Paul busy with a customer, she drove the Harley around the back of the building, where she knew he kept a hose hooked up.

  Placing Pax at stay safely out of the way, she washed off the sidecar. She then sprayed the engine with a fine mist, afraid a cold stream might crack something. Worried about what she’d tell Reverend Mother once she got back, she took her time. If only she could give Mother some real answers instead of having to report yet another threat.

  Paul came up moments after his customer had driven off. “So what’s new with you, Sister Agatha?”

  She put the hose down and, borrowing a rag, began wiping down the Harley. “Paul, did you happen to see a white van with a blue sign on the side go by, say, in the last hour or so?”

  “Lots of white vans around, but yeah, as a matter of fact I remember one. He didn’t pull in, but he stopped at the light. It caught my eye because the van was from a plumbing company and I’ve been meaning to talk to a plumber. I’m thinking of buying a power washer for customer cars.”

  “What plumbing company was it?” she asked, putting him back on track.

  “Royal Flush Plumbing. The lettering looked like pipes, complete with joints and connectors.”

  She nodded, now remembering what had just been at the edge of her focus before. “Did you get a look at the driver?”

  “No, it was the name of the company that caught my attention. It struck me as funny, that’s all.”

  “Thanks, Paul.” Sister Agatha handed the rag back, then called the sheriff and gave him the information.

  Tom listened, and she heard him typing on his computer. “Bad news,” he said. “That van was stolen about an hour ago. I’ve got the report right here in front of me.”

  “If you find it abandoned somewhere, you might be able to get prints.”

  “I wouldn’t count on that if I were you,” he cautioned. “So far, nothing’s been straightforward and simple on this case.”

  Sister Agatha drove back to the monastery slowly. She’d have to update Reverend Mother, but she had nothing to report that came even close to good news.

  She arrived just in time for Vespers and joined the sisters in prayer. “O Lord, make haste to help me,” she prayed from the depths of her heart.

  After collation, recreation started. Sister Agatha looked for Reverend Mother but was unable to find her, so she went to join Sister Bernarda. She was on one of their outside benches reading a letter.

  “Excuse me, Your Charity. Have you seen Mother?” Sister Agatha asked her.

  “Sister Eugenia pulled rank, and Reverend Mother is lying down in the infirmary finally getting some sleep. Sister Eugenia managed to find something, a nonnarcotic, that Reverend Mother was willing to take to help her rest.”

  “What was it? Do you know?”

  “A New Mexican folk remedy, an herbal tea, that apparently works wonders.”

  “I’m so glad to hear this,” Sister Agatha said. For more than one reason, too. She hadn’t been looking forward to updating Reverend Mother tonight.

  “Something’s troubling you. I can always tell,” Sister Bernarda said, folding up the letter and placing it back into the envelope. “Would it help you to talk about it?”

  “Maybe,” Sister Agatha said. She sat down on the banco outside their vegetable garden and watched Sister Jo and Sister Ignatius uncoil the black irrigation hose, straightening it out and placing rocks on the ends to hold it in place until the coils relaxed.

  Sister Agatha filled her in on the afternoon’s events. “I’m not sure if the driver was striking out at me specifically. Heaven knows I’ve made plenty of enemies over the years. But that phony head he threw at me…that was a taunt as well as an implied threat. It’s not the kind of thing one does to a generalized target. The whole incident has a more personal feel to it.” She paused, then added, “Or am I saying that because it happened to me?”

  “He was playing with you, Sister Agatha. If it really was the same man who killed Jane Sanchez, he probably wasn’t intending to do the same to you, at least not today. He wanted you to fear him first. He might have done the same thing to Jane in the days or hours leading up to the murder. You mentioned she’d seen something and wanted to tell you about it, right?”

  Sister Agatha nodded. “But if it had been an attack like today, she’d have called the police, don’t you think?”

  “Maybe not if the attacker had been the police, like Gerry Bennett?” Sister Bernarda suggested.

  “I see your point. But if she’d known for sure, she would have used that knowledge. That would have given her the perfect ammunition to get rid of her son-in-law, if she could have proven that Gerry was harassing her.”

  “We’re reaching,” Sister
Bernarda said firmly. “Judging on the facts and the nature of the attack, I believe you were his target. Think. You’re the only one who rides with Pax on the Harley.”

  Sister Agatha stared at her fellow extern, her thoughts suddenly racing. “Maybe I’ve been looking at this from the wrong angle. What if he was after a specific person…but got the target wrong?”

  Sister Bernarda gave her a puzzled look. Then comprehension dawned over her features. “You’re thinking about Sister Jo and what she saw while on that crank delivery call, aren’t you? She’s about your size and weight, and on the motorcycle, one nun looks pretty much like another. She was also wearing a helmet that day and riding with Pax. Someone could have easily assumed that was you. You’re the one who drives the Harley—everyone knows that.”

  “Exactly. Although she took off her helmet briefly, from a distance, people tend to only see our habit.”

  “But Sister Jo barely saw anything at all, if I remember her story correctly.”

  “Maybe the little she did see was threat enough,” Sister Agatha answered. “What if one or both of the men involved in that exchange are now worried that she may be able to identify them? What she saw may have been connected to a crime—like bribery, for example. Remember the big envelope?”

  “Have you spoken to Tom about this?” Sister Bernarda asked.

  “He’s already checking up on Gerry Bennett. But maybe I should call—”

  Before she could say anything more, the bells for Compline rang. Sister Bernarda stood and, bowing her head, hurried inside. Sister Agatha followed her.

  It was the next day, well after Morning Prayers—which at one time had been called Prime—when she met Sister Bernarda in the parlor.

  “You’ll be going to see Sheriff Green this morning, won’t you?” Sister Bernarda asked.

  Sister Agatha nodded. Sister Bernarda’s reminder was simply her way of covering the bases. The marine in her didn’t like leaving things to chance.

  “I’ll tell him what Sister Jo witnessed that day on Calle de Elena and see what he has to say,” Sister Agatha said.

  “On your way there, you might also make a mental list of anyone you think might have a grievance against you. That’s just in case we’re way off base on this.”

  “I’ll do that,” she answered gently, knowing Sister Bernarda was worried about her.

  “Have you spoken to Reverend Mother yet?”

  Sister Agatha shook her head. “Sister Eugenia said that Mother’s sleeping late and nobody has permission to wake her up this morning. Mother apparently got up in the middle of the night and couldn’t get back to sleep. Sister Eugenia brewed some more of her special tea, and after that, Mother was out like a light.”

  “I wonder what was in that tea,” Sister Bernarda mused.

  Sister Agatha smiled. “Sister Eugenia said that it was star-shaped anise and another herb. Together they can knock you for a loop, particularly if the tea is made strong and you’re already tired. And Mother was. She’s been working much too hard.”

  “Then you better work even harder to find answers so Mother doesn’t have to worry so much,” Sister Bernarda said, then added, “I’ll let Mother know you’ve gone as soon as she’s available again.”

  After saying good-bye, Sister Agatha went outside. It was a beautiful morning. The almost cloudless sky was a brilliant blue, and the temperature was still pleasantly cool. She knew it wouldn’t last. By this afternoon the wind was supposed to reach forty miles per hour. Curtains of sand and blowing dust would rise like waves, blanketing everything and limiting visibility. That was typical of New Mexican spring afternoons.

  Enjoying the weather while she could, and thanking the Lord for the morning, she whistled for Pax. The giant dog came shooting from around the corner with one of his favorite toys, an old stuffed sock, still in his mouth.

  “Pax, road trip!”

  Without hesitation the dog gracefully jumped into the sidecar, the toy still firmly clamped in his jaws.

  On the way to town Sister Agatha kept a sharp eye on other vehicles. Refusing to let fear master her, she focused on the business at hand and tried to think of anyone who might have had a grievance against her. Most of the names that came to her were people who were still in prison…as far as she knew. Their relatives could be a problem, but they hadn’t been before, so there was no reason to think they would be now.

  She’d already reached Bernalillo before she remembered the problem Tom was having with the mayor regarding her cooperative work with the sheriff’s department. Pulling over in front of a coffee shop, she decided to give him a call first, then let him decide when and where to meet.

  After finding out where she was, he decided he’d come and meet her for coffee. While Pax remained at stay in the cycle, out of the sun, she went inside. Sister Agatha ordered a cup of coffee, then found a booth where she could see outside clearly and watch the dog.

  Tom arrived about five minutes later and joined her at the booth. “Next time just come to the station. I needed the break this morning, and getting away was too tempting to pass up, but if we meet like this again it’ll look like we’re sneaking around. That’ll just make things more interesting to Fritz and his boss—not to mention my wife.”

  “I never thought of that,” she admitted.

  “No problem. Had you called ten minutes earlier, I would have insisted you come to my office immediately. I was dying for an excuse to get rid of the defense attorney across my desk. He wanted me to drop all charges against his client—a real lowlife.”

  “With all the pressure of a murder investigation on top of a political football game, I was trying to make things easier for you,” she said, then smiled as the waitress brought coffee for Tom and refilled her cup.

  “So what’s been going on?” Tom asked after the waitress walked away.

  She quickly repeated the stories she’d heard about Jane’s obsessive behavior concerning her daughter’s marriage and ended by describing her conversation with Jane’s boss at the nursery.

  “I’ve already spoken to Gerry about this,” Tom said. “I also got the details about Jane’s snooping. He told me that he and Evelyn separated briefly and he began seeing Laura Sims. His mother-in-law found out about it and threatened to do all in her power to get his marriage to Evelyn annulled on grounds of adultery. He knew she didn’t have the power to make that happen, and he told her so right to her face.”

  “Annulments in the Catholic Church are harder than blitz to get,” she said slowly.

  “According to Gerry, Jane knew she was just shooting blanks, hoping the threat would scare him into giving up trying to save his marriage. When she found out that he and Evelyn were in counseling and that their marriage was back on track, she really lost it. She started checking up on him and tailing him, thinking she could catch him with Laura. She’d even have her cell phone handy, ready to take pictures.”

  “Has anyone used the missing phone since it disappeared?”

  “There’s been no activity whatsoever. Usually when a cell phone’s stolen, the thief uses it extensively for a short period of time, then throws it away, but we’ve got nothing.”

  “Then we go back to the big issue. Does Gerry have an alibi for the time of Jane’s death?” Sister Agatha asked.

  “He was home alone, which is where you’d expect him to be at six thirty in the morning on Sunday,” Tom said. “So if you’re asking me whether he’s a suspect, the answer’s yes, but he’s not high on my list, despite what was going on between him and his mother-in-law. That’s not just because he’s one of ours either. I know the guy, and I trust what my gut tells me about him. He’s irritating at times, but he’s not a cold-blooded killer.”

  “Remember that Jane wasn’t an easy woman to get along with—at least according to virtually everyone I’ve spoken to who knew her. She presented herself differently to me, but I’m a nun. Most of those who knew her outside church saw a different side of Jane. Gerry had a good reason for dislikin
g her intensely. He’s also supposed to be a passionate person, and his marriage was being threatened.”

  “All good points.”

  “What about Deputy Sims? She would have some of the skills the killer demonstrated, and she has, or had, a relationship with Gerry. Have you looked into her whereabouts?”

  “She was on patrol no more than a few miles away from the monastery. She’s our newest officer, so she gets the unpopular shifts, like weekends.”

  “So it’s possible she might have stopped by the monastery during Mass. Jane wouldn’t have been alarmed by a woman deputy. She might have even welcomed the opportunity to get into the face of the woman who’d dated her married son-in-law. Also, if Laura waited until the last second to pull out her pistol, that would certainly explain why Jane never called out for help.”

  “But what would Sims’s motive be? Killing Jane would have eliminated the one person who was working hard to pull Evelyn and Gerry apart. If she’d wanted Gerry bad enough to kill someone, her target would have been Evelyn, his wife.”

  “That’s a valid point, but Sims still had the means and opportunity to carry out the crime. I know you hate even the possibility that one of your people might be implicated, but don’t rule her out—not yet, anyway.” Sister Agatha lapsed into uneasy silence.

  “Something else is bothering you, isn’t it?” he asked after a moment. “And that would be the second reason you wanted to talk to me this morning?”

  She nodded, then recounted what Sister Jo had seen the day she’d tried to make the phony Good News lunch delivery on Calle de Elena. “We don’t know what the meeting between the deputy and that man was about, but I’m wondering if maybe Sister Jo saw something that was meant to stay secret. That would explain why that man tried to run me off the road with a stolen plumber’s van. Maybe one of those two decided to permanently silence the nun on the cycle and make it look accidental.”

  “The two men on that side street—it was the deputy who took the envelope from the guy in the cap?” he repeated, verifying it.