He glanced up from a tall stack of file folders. “Come in and take a load off,” he said, waving her to a chair. “I got the short version of the incident at the rectory. What else can you tell me?”
She quickly related the pursuit, and the intruder’s escape in the tan pickup. Then she added the speculation concerning Henry Tannen, including what Jessica had told Frances.
“I’ve never ruled out the ex-husband, but none of my inquiries have produced any intel on Tannen’s current location. I have my officers on alert in case his name pops up,” Tom said. “Father’s right about Tannen being a lowlife. Henry Tannen got involved in some shady stuff about the time his marriage ended. He has a record, and served time—which explains why he’s been out of the picture for years. But he got out six months ago and then dropped out of sight. As I told you, I’m having a tough time getting even a photo from his old files. One’s finally supposed to be on the way, so I can let you have a look when it arrives.”
“What if Henry’s completely innocent—at least in this instance? Think of the message on Jessica’s machine. Del Martinez and Joseph Carlisle have a motive, and we know where they are. Let’s concentrate on them while we wait for more info on Henry.”
“That’s exactly what I’ve been doing. But we need hard evidence—a witness and a vehicle, certainly something more than an ex-con’s secondhand gossip. I’ve done background checks on everyone in that office and they’re all squeaky clean except for a few speeding tickets. I also interviewed the office staff, including Joseph Carlisle, but I’ve got nothing we can use.”
“What about her second job?”
“Jessica works behind a desk checking out books. There’s nothing for us there.”
“I think I can get Cathy, the receptionist, to talk to me— providing it’s outside of work. Do you know where she lives or where she goes to lunch?”
“You should talk to Mike, our day shift dispatcher. He dated Cathy for several months. She told me that herself, but I think they had a hard breakup, because when I questioned her I got the distinct impression she’s no longer a fan of the sheriff’s department.”
Sister Agatha thanked Tom, then went to talk to Mike. After some chitchat, she got to the point. “Cathy’s boss is obviously a difficult man to work for, and I don’t want to get her into trouble by trying to meet her at the office.”
“Carlisle’s a jerk, that’s pretty clear to me, but Cathy’s very protective of her job. It pays pretty well, and she needs the medical benefits it gives her. She supports herself and her mother.”
“Does Cathy have a favorite lunch spot?”
“Nah, she usually just brown-bags it and eats at her desk. But I went out for a smoke during my break a short while ago and saw her silver Civic pull into Dr. Woods’s parking area.”
“The dentist down the street?” she asked, having seen his office.
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
Sister Agatha called Pax, and together they walked to the dentist’s office, which was only about a half block away. Leaving Pax at stay just outside the door, she went inside and glanced around. Cathy was sitting against the far wall, reading a magazine.
As she approached, Cathy glanced up and smiled. “Hey, Sister. Got an appointment today?”
“Not exactly. I’ve been wanting to talk to you and someone said you might be here,” she said, deliberately being vague about the details. “Will you be going in right away, or do you have some time now?”
“Actually, my mom’s the one with the appointment and it’s going to take a while.”
“Then why don’t you come outside with me? I’ve got Pax at stay on the sidewalk, but sometimes he intimidates people. I’d hate for him to scare away some of the doctor’s patients.”
“No problem.”
As they stepped outside, Pax stood up and wagged his tail. Cathy bent down to pet him. “I had a feeling that sooner or later you’d come looking for me. You didn’t seem the type to give up easily. In that respect you have a lot in common with Jessica.”
“Tell me more about her,” Sister Agatha asked, strolling down the street beside Cathy and Pax.
“I’m not exactly her best friend, but I can tell you this much. Jessie’s a born fighter and as honest as they come. She and Mr. Carlisle have their differences, but she’s a good worker and he knows it. That’s probably why he’s never fired her though they seem to argue all the time.”
“What about?” Sister Agatha asked, stopping by the flower shop to admire a display of roses.
“Everything. Carlisle makes Jessica crazy by looking over her shoulder while she’s working. Most recently they argued about the annual profit and loss statement. She said that he was pulling numbers out of his…you know…and that the auditor would have a fit when he went over the books. He said she was getting everything wrong and that made her go ballistic. By then, they were in his office. I heard Jessica tell Mr. Carlisle that she wasn’t going to take the blame for his mistakes. About that time, Carlisle slammed the door shut and I didn’t hear the rest.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Last week—no, the week before.” Cathy gazed absently down the street. “But it seems so unimportant now, after what’s happened to her.” Cathy gave Sister Agatha a sad smile. “Jessica never gave up on her dreams,” she said, then added, “I really wanted her to make it, too, you know?”
“Because she was your friend?”
“Yeah, but it’s more than that. You see, when one of us beats the odds and actually makes her dream happen, it gives the rest of us hope. It’s the lottery mentality, I suppose. You hear that someone somewhere won big, like that local guy who got himself a five-thousand-dollar scratcher just two days ago. So you figure that if other people can win, why not you, and you plop your hard-earned buck down for a chance, and for the right to dream, if only for a little while.”
Sister Agatha’s heart went out to her. “If you want something more from your life, trust God, not chance, to bring you the good you need. That gives everything a brand-new outlook.”
Cathy smiled. “Jessica’s faith was rock solid, like yours. Personally I think it’s a miracle all its own that she managed to keep her job.”
“Did Carlisle ever give her a hard time because she was moonlighting?”
“No way,” Cathy said. “Mr. Carlisle is for anything that keeps us from asking for a raise,” she said as they returned to the dentist’s office.
Seeing a light blue sedan pull up to the stoplight, Cathy stared at it for a second, then suddenly gasped. “Of all the rotten luck! That’s Mr. Carlisle. Now the fur’s going to fly.” She turned and gazed into the window of the dentist’s office, hoping she wouldn’t be recognized.
“But he knew you’d be at the dentist’s today, right?”
“Not for that—for talking to you, Sister. But maybe he didn’t notice me. I better keep my back to him until he drives off.”
“Tell me one last thing. Did Jessica have a best friend?”
“Not at the office, she didn’t.” Cathy faced the glass window, monitoring the reflection of traffic in the street. “She did mention an elderly woman she enjoyed visiting. I can’t remember her name but she makes and sells goat cheese.”
After Cathy went inside the dental office, Sister Agatha walked back to the parked Harley and headed home. She was starting to feel discouraged and needed a visit to the chapel.
As she drove by The Hog, she saw Chuck Moody coming out the door. Surprised to see someone who professed to be on the wagon at a bar this early in the day, she made a quick left turn, pulled into the parking area, and caught up to him just as he reached his car.
“Hey, Sister! Just the person I was looking for!”
“I thought you’d given up drinking, Chuck,” she said sternly.
“I have. I’m just doing a little undercover work for the paper.”
She gave him a skeptical look.
“It’s true,” he said, lowering his
voice. “I just had a coke, no booze. But I’m glad you’re here ‘cause I’ve got something for you. I looked into Jessica Tannen’s background and found something interesting about her ex-husband, something in his past that probably wasn’t in the official police files the local sheriff would see. Henry served time in Colorado, but got paroled after testifying for the prosecution concerning some prison incident he witnessed. It was gang related, so his testimony made him some powerful enemies. Now he’s got some major bad guys trying to track him down. When I started asking questions about Jessica and him, I stirred up a hornet’s nest. So watch your back.”
“Why would I have to do that?” she asked. As understanding dawned over her, she stared at him, aghast. “Did you tell people I’m looking for Henry?”
He stared at the ground and shifted from foot to foot. “I think my exact words were that you were hot on his trail,” he muttered. “But I was just trying to get them to loosen up and give me something you could use. Not even gangbangers would go after a nun.”
“Please, Chuck, don’t help me so much next time,” Sister Agatha snapped. Sensing her mood, Pax growled at Chuck and he took a step back.
“Sister, what are you worried about? You’ve got Attila the Dog there. Like I said, no one’s going to hurt a nun. Most of the bad guys in this area were probably raised Catholic anyway.”
“What are you saying?”
“Oh—I didn’t mean any offense. Most of the people in this town are Catholic, right? Even the cops.”
Swallowing back her irritation, she forced herself to take a deep breath. “I’m going back to the monastery to pray that God will send you some brains and, me, a pair of eyes for the back of my head.”
On her guard now, Sister Agatha took a quick look around. Two hardened-looking men standing beside their motorcycles seemed extremely interested in Chuck and her at the moment. When a third one came out, a man wearing a black leather jacket and a red bandanna around his head, Sister Agatha placed her hand on Pax to reassure herself.
“Do you know any of the people who are out here right now?” she asked Chuck, keeping her voice low.
“No,” he said, glancing around furtively. “My guess is they aren’t attorneys or accountants, Sister. But maybe they just like the Harley.”
“I’ll be seeing you, Chuck.”
Sister Agatha started the bike quickly and pulled out of the parking area. Although no one seemed to be following her, she remained on her guard until she finally drove through the monastery gates. She now knew why Henry Tannen had dropped out of sight. Two minutes later, she was on the telephone, telling Sheriff Green the news.
Sister Bernarda was pacing in the parlor, rosary in hand, as Sister Agatha came in. “Their nail guns remind me of boot camp,” she shouted to Sister Agatha. “A little while ago, I could have sworn I was back on the rifle range.”
“Where’s Natalie?”
“In the crafts room. She’s created an angel design that’s absolutely gorgeous. She calls it a pocket angel. You should go see it.”
Sister Agatha stepped inside the enclosure and went to the crafts room. Sister Ignatius saw her arrive and immediately held out the small figure. The angel was about the size of her thumb but remarkably detailed. The figure was kneeling in prayer, flowing robes around it. But the truly stunning effect came from the fact that the angel had a golden sheen. “Is this metal or clay?”
“It’s a special clay that some of the Pueblo tribes use. It has mica in it. I had Uncle Rick find us some. Do you like the angel? It can be put on a chain or used as a Christmas decoration.” Natalie was beaming with pride.
“It’s beautiful, Natalie. I think this’ll do great at the bazaar. We sold the other ones you made for us almost immediately, and this one is even prettier.”
Natalie stared at the angel critically, her lips pursed.
“Is something wrong?” Sister Agatha asked.
“I like it, but real angels don’t look like this,” Natalie said crossly, then shrugged. “But I guess that’s what people expect.”
Sister Agatha smiled at her. “Tell me what an angel really looks like.”
“Well, they’re not all the same, you know. Samara doesn’t look like the one who protects the monastery. I’ve seen him a few times, too.” Suddenly her gaze fixed on a point just behind Sister Agatha.
Pax, who’d been sitting next to Sister Agatha, turned around and lay down, ears pricked forward, expression alert, staring at the exact same spot Natalie was focused on.
Sister Agatha’s skin prickled as she glanced at Sister Ignatius, who looked back at her, eyes wide.
“There he is now. Wow. I’ve never seen him this clearly before. He’s as tall as the ceiling! He’s wearing a white robe with a gold belt and has a huge sword with jewels. His hair isn’t as long as Samara’s but it’s even whiter, and he’s as bright as the sun. He’s so beautiful,” Natalie whispered.
Sister Ignatius dropped down to her knees, but Natalie turned to her quickly. “No, don’t do that! He doesn’t like it. He says that only God should be worshipped. Angels are just His servants and messengers.”
Sister Ignatius stood up reluctantly, but her head remained bowed.
Sister Agatha squinted, straining her neck forward. Suddenly she realized how silly that was. Squinting couldn’t help her see what wasn’t there.
Natalie turned and glanced at Sister Agatha. “He says that you shouldn’t worry if you can’t see him,” she said, then gave her a sad smile. “Someday I won’t be able to see angels either. When I get older, they’ll fade away.”
“The loss of innocence,” Sister Ignatius whispered.
Sister Agatha nodded slowly. Innocence, like childhood, was a path traveled only once.
“He’s leaving now but he wants me to tell you that although the monastery will face great dangers he, and others like him, will always be here to protect the sisters from harm.”
“Does he have a name?” Sister Agatha asked, still searching for proof.
“Tah—Tazuriel,” she answered.
Sister Ignatius crossed herself. “Deo gratias,” she whispered.
Instinct told Sister Agatha to pray, but the words got jumbled in her head. Suddenly remembering an old story, she began whispering the letters of the alphabet.
“He’s gone,” Natalie said softly.
Sister Ignatius looked at Sister Agatha, a bewildered expression on her face. “Were you whispering the alphabet, Your Charity?”
She nodded and gave her a hesitant smile. “There’s an old story about a man who always received what he asked for from God, though he’d never memorized any formal prayers. Others came to find out how he appealed to God, and he told them that he simply recited the alphabet and let God put the letters in the right order.” She smiled. “I did the same, and added ‘Amen’ after the Z. Not exactly brilliant, but I think God understood.”
17
IT WAS THREE THIRTY IN THE AFTERNOON, THE TIME FOR manual labor, when Sister Agatha went to Reverend Mother’s office. Unable to disturb the abbess earlier, who’d been on the phone with some supporters of the monastery most of the morning, her report of the incident with Natalie and the angel had been put on hold until now.
The abbess listened to Sister Agatha in silence. “And your impression?”
“I looked up the name Natalie gave us. I believe she meant Tzuriel. It comes from the Hebrew and means ‘God is my rock.’ There’s no angel by that name, but there’s an archangel by the name of Uriel. She could have simply added a ‘t’ sound to it and, pardon the pun, winged it.”
“So you’re not convinced.”
“Mother, I believe that Natalie’s been given a gift to foretell certain events. But the rest…I just don’t know. She believes in the angels she sees, that much I do know. But they may be her way of coping with her ability and making sense of it all.”
Reverend Mother gave her a long, calm look. “The church officially says that we’re free to believe her or not an
d I’ve chosen to believe Natalie. Her words bring me comfort and I see no harm in them.” The abbess stood in front of the statue of the Blessed Mother, lost in thought. “But what we need right now is closure to the events that brought Natalie here. Help the police find answers, child. Natalie has brought us a blessing, but she belongs on the outside, not in this monastery.”
“I’ll keep trying, Mother.”
Sister Agatha walked back to the parlor. Her past as a journalist had placed a heavy burden on her shoulders. The monastery counted on her far more than it did the other externs when it came to resolving problems like these. Now fear of failure dogged her footsteps.
Moments later, Sister Bernarda listened to her as Sister Agatha explained that she might need to be away for longer periods of time.
“Why are you so troubled? You have a talent for this kind of work,” Sister Bernarda responded. The hammering had moved to another part of the building and they could speak at normal levels.
“What if I can’t find the answers? A child’s life is in our hands.”
“Her life is in God’s hands. It was never in ours.”
“You’re absolutely right,” Sister Agatha said after a pause. “Pray that I’ll always remember that we serve, we don’t command—not even the situation,” she added with a grateful smile.
Sister Agatha rode back to the sheriff’s department with Pax. Tom would be her best source. Once she arrived at the station, she went directly to his office. “Come in,” he said, glancing up.
Sister Agatha filled him in on what she’d learned from Cathy. “I want to talk to this friend of Jessica’s that Cathy mentioned, but who the heck makes goat cheese around here? Do you know?”
“No, not off the bat,” he said, “but I know someone who might. Maria Fuentes. Do you know her?”
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