Prey for a Miracle (18 page)

“I don’t know, but I suspect he’s inside the casino. I figured that Pax and I would wait him out. I want to know if he was following me or just keeping an eye on Elena, which makes him a potential stalker.”

“I’ll go inside, talk to casino security, and see what I can find out,” the tribal patrolman said.

“I’ll stay here beside the vehicle, officer. If he returns, I’ll hold him,” Tom said.

As the tribal officer left, Sister Agatha told Tom what Elena had said about Jessica and her concerns at work. “She did the accounts receivable and payable, Tom, and this corroborates what Cathy said about Joseph Carlisle. Something was going on in that office for sure.”

“That might be right, but I can’t touch him without more to go on. Without physical evidence or Jessica’s own testimony, it’s all hearsay.”

As Sister Agatha drove back to the monastery, she kept a sharp eye on the rearview mirror. Moments later, as she passed through the open gates, she breathed a sign of relief.

When she went through the parlor doors, Sister Agatha was greeted by Sister Bernarda, who was in the parlor, just getting off the phone.

“How are things here?” Sister Agatha asked, noting the little girl was in the next room.

“Smitty just called. He’s increased his order again. He wants to carry even more of our cookies. Apparently they’re flying off the shelves.”

“The income that’ll generate will be a blessing,” Sister Agatha said, though she was beginning to see that there was such a thing as being too successful. They were working round the clock as it was.

When the bells for Vespers rang, Sister Agatha, alone in the parlor, locked the doors. Natalie was still in the adjoining room quietly sketching.

“Sister Agatha, why don’t you go to Vespers? I’ll stay here and watch Natalie.”

Sister Agatha looked at her, tempted, but not wanting to take advantage of Sister de Lourdes. After all, she and Sister Ignatius and Sister Bernarda had watched Natalie most of today. “Are you sure you don’t mind looking after her a while longer?”

“Not at all. Go. We’ll be fine.

Sister Agatha walked down the enclosure and took her seat in the chapel. Thinking of her sisters here and the people in town who struggled daily to make the world better, she opened her heart, holding them all in a spiritual embrace, and prayed. “You are in our midst, O Lord, and your name we bear…”

After Mass and breakfast, Sister Agatha went directly to Reverend Mother’s office and brought her up to date on yesterday’s events.

“The fact that our intruder may have been one of those tabloid people makes me very uneasy,” the abbess said. “They usually show no regard for the privacy of others. But I’m relieved to hear that it may not have been Henry Tannen at all. That man sounds dangerous.”

“I’ll see the sheriff later on. I’m hoping he’ll have more definite news for us by then.”

As she left Reverend Mother’s office, Sister Agatha felt the dull pulsing ache in her hands that usually meant she was in for a bad time with her arthritis. Before she could try to figure out when she’d taken her last pill, Sister Eugenia met her in the hall. The infirmarian held a glass of milk in one hand and two pills in the other.

“I won’t have you leaving without taking these, Sister. I placed two tablets in your cell last night, but you didn’t take them.”

“I didn’t even see them,” she admitted. “I had cookie baking duties that didn’t end till three this morning. By then, I was too tired to even see straight. I just fell onto my bed and never moved again until this morning.”

“These will help you out today. But you
have
to take them on a regular basis. You and Sister Gertrude are such terrible patients!”

“How is Sister Gertrude?”

“She insists on helping with the cookies, just like you. But we can’t let her get too close to the ovens because of the heat, and mixing the dough in the large bowls is physically taxing. So last night before your shift in the kitchen, she led us in the rosary while we worked. However, she didn’t take her heart medication, and by the time I discovered what she’d done, she’d missed one cycle of pills. This morning she had chest pains, so I’m insisting that she remain in the infirmary today.”

“Take good care of her, Sister Eugenia. I wish, for her own sake, that she could still be our cellarer. She was such a whiz at taking care of the monastery’s accounts, and we all need to feel useful. Working is as vital to a nun as breathing.”

“Yes, but Sister Gertrude’s health requires her to be free of stress. That’s why Reverend Mother reassigned the task to Sister Maria Victoria. Unfortunately, number crunching isn’t her thing. She’s been trying to balance the monastery’s checkbook for three days now.”

“It might not be a bad idea to have Sister Maria Victoria and Sister Gertrude share cellarer duties,” Sister Agatha said with a burst of inspiration. “That might be the best medicine we can give Sister Gertrude. Will you consider suggesting that to Reverend Mother?”

“Absolutely. I think it’s an excellent idea. All things considered, it might do Sister Gertrude a world of good.”

Saying good-bye, Sister Agatha headed outside and called Pax to her, eager to get started today. They were close to finding answers now. She could feel it.

Enjoying the crispness of the autumn morning against her face, Sister Agatha drove into town. A brilliant burst of red and orange leaves lit up the path before her. What an irony it was that nature was always at its most beautiful when it sang its last dying song before the onset of winter.

S
ISTER AGATHA ENTERED THE STATION A SHORT TIME LATER.
“I was just about to call you,” Tom said, meeting her in the hall. “I’ve got some news. We tracked down the man in the Ford Escort, a tabloid reporter named Jack Springer, and brought him in for questioning. He was released with a warning, but not before we discovered he’s done some serious research on Jessica and Natalie. Springer is convinced that you know where Natalie is. He’s been keeping an eye on you, apparently, though always at a distance. But he got too close over at Mrs. Serna’s. Claims he thought he was on public land, and she won’t press charges.”

“Who does Springer work for?”

“The National Inquisitor.”

Sister Agatha scowled. “Great. So he was planning to stick a story about Natalie and her angel between the feature about crocodiles in the Washington sewage system and NASA’s cover-up of that Elvis face on Mars?”

“Yeah, all the news that’s sick to print. According to Springer, anything concerning spirits, especially when healing and apparitions are involved, is front-page material. He’s hoping to get a photo of the angel.”

“You’re joking?”

“No, and if he doesn’t, they’ll probably fake one to go with his story. Springer is really eager for an interview. Desperate, maybe, because he wants to get the exclusive.”

“I can almost sympathize with him. But I was never
that
eager as a journalist…was I?” Sister Agatha asked.

Tom smiled. “Of course you were. By the way, Springer denied sneaking into the monastery in that nun disguise, though he’s our best bet so far. Just make sure you continue to keep a sharp eye out for any reporters. And keep Natalie out of sight. We have to protect her from danger of all kinds now, including kidnapping.”

“She’s safe and will remain that way. Anything new on Jessica’s boss, Carlisle?” she added, changing the subject.

“He’s so clean, he squeaks. And the paint scrape we got off Jessica’s car doesn’t match his vehicle at all—not to mention that we’ve established the hit-and-run vehicle was a pickup and Carlisle doesn’t own one. We’ve got a boatload of smudged fingerprints from the surfaces of Jessica’s car, some partially washed away, and it’s taking a lot of time to process them all. So far, most are Jessica’s and Father Ma-honey’s. He helps her with maintenance and oil changes.”

Sister Agatha said nothing for several moments. “I have an idea that might get us something on Carlisle.” Reminding him what Jessica had told Elena about insurance and then telling him about her conversation with Maria Fuentes about hiding places, she added, “Have you checked to see if Jessica has a safe deposit box?”

“Sure, a while back, and the answer is no.”

“I think it’s time to look for the insurance Jessica spoke about. My guess is that she hid it in her home somewhere. It’s the only place left for us to search.”

“Agreed. Let’s go over there right now. I’ll have to ask Father Mahoney’s permission on the way since I already released the scene.”

“He won’t mind.”

“I still have to ask, particularly now. He’s had some trouble over at Jessica’s. People have been stealing little things out of the yard that Natalie might have touched—the door to the mailbox, a flower pot from the front porch, even a sprinkler. At least there haven’t been any more break-ins that I’ve heard about.”

As they drove to Jessica’s house, Sister Agatha followed the sheriff’s vehicle in the Harley. They were halfway there when she caught a brief glimpse of Chuck Moody as he passed by. Although he merely waved and then drove on, she had a feeling that Chuck was still trying to keep an eye on her. Working hard to forgive him for being such an irritating man, she kept her eyes focused on the road.

When they arrived at the Tannen house five minutes later, Sister Agatha left Pax sitting on the porch and went inside with Tom. Dividing the house into sections, they searched everywhere—even inside food containers. Finally, ninety minutes later, they returned to the living room.

“I looked inside the light fixtures and even sifted through the soil in the potted plants. There’s nothing here,” Tom said, disappointment evident in his tone. “Maybe Jessica was bluffing—or she never got the insurance she intended.”

“I don’t agree. Remember what Jessica told Elena. There’s something here—it’s just well hidden.”

“Gut feeling?”

“No, logic. If Jessica thought someone was framing her, she would have done whatever was necessary to protect herself. There’s no way she would have risked getting arrested and being separated from Natalie.”

“That makes sense, but if she buried something in the backyard, we’re going to be here a
long
time.”

Sister shook her head. “Outside, anything could happen to whatever she was protecting. She has a fence back there, but it’s not enough to isolate the yard. My guess is that we’re overlooking something here, inside, a place where she would have quick access.”

They’d taken all the human steps possible. Now it was time to turn the matter to God. Sister Agatha said a silent prayer asking for guidance then slowly looked around the room, taking in every detail. Finally, after several moments, she spotted something she hadn’t seen before.

“Look at the power strip attached to the outlet by the TV,” she said, standing. “She’s got a gazillion things plugged in there.”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”

“Why have all those attachments there when you have another unused outlet a few feet away behind the table lamp?”

Tom glanced where she was pointing, muttered an oath, then went to move the lamp aside. Crouching down, he studied it. “This is one of those fake outlets you can buy from catalogues.” Pulling it open from the top revealed a small hiding place and a floppy disk in a plastic case nestled inside. He took it out gingerly. “I think we just found Jessica’s insurance. Let’s go back to the station and find out what’s on here.”

It took another hour of waiting and pacing at the station before Tom came out to meet her. “The disk has a letter explaining the contents as well as all the proof we need to bring criminal charges against Joseph Carlisle. On a phony spreadsheet, the amounts Carlisle withdrew and pocketed showed up as cash used to purchase construction materials, goods later listed as stolen from work sites so they didn’t have to be accounted for in inventory or as part of client structures. Jessica has no idea what Carlisle did with the money, but notes that he must have discovered her password or he couldn’t have doctored the spreadsheet files. Jessica kept a second set of backups on a floppy, which contradict the records Carlisle sent to the head office. She found out what was going on when the accountant at the head office called to question an entry.”

“But that won’t exonerate Jessica. It could be argued that
she
did the doctoring.”

“True, but now that we have a case for fraud we can subpoena bank records for both Joseph Carlisle and Del Martinez. My guess is that the money Carlisle took from Grayson Construction’s business accounts ended up in Martinez’s books.”

“But all that establishes is fraud. Can you tie Carlisle or Martinez to Jessica’s car accident?”

“Not yet. Let’s see what happens when I question Carlisle,” he said. “Why don’t you stick around? You can stand outside the interview room and observe through the two-way glass.”

“Thanks, I’d like to do that. But if he doesn’t have a truck…” “Carlisle still could have borrowed someone else’s vehicle that night. Let’s see what kind of alibi he has.”

Thirty-five minutes later Sister Agatha stood on one side of the glass while Tom questioned Joseph Carlisle. The man stonewalled completely at first, but Tom was tenacious.

“We have
physical evidence
that you were embezzling funds. Jessica Tannen kept another backup disk, as you probably discovered some time ago. Once we subpoena your bank records and get delivery records from your suppliers, I think we can prove those construction materials you reported stolen never existed. My next question is this—what do you have that’ll convince me you’re not also guilty of attempted murder? Prove to me that you weren’t the one who ran Jessica Tannen off the road and tried to kill her.”

“First of all, I don’t have to
prove
anything—you do.” Despite his bravado, Carlisle’s face had paled considerably. “But why would I want to kill Jessica?” he challenged. “Even if I were guilty of embezzling—and I’m not admitting anything—why kill Jessica? If she had evidence that could be used against me, I’d have been better off pressuring her to tell me where it was.”

“Where were you the night of her accident?”

“I was home alone, God’s truth, watching the football game. I went to bed early, as soon as the game ended.” He paused. “Look, if you don’t believe me, ask me anything about that game.”

“That’s no good. Ever hear of a VCR?”

Sister Agatha watched Carlisle’s brows knit together as he struggled to find a way out of his situation. He hadn’t admitted to embezzlement, but he seemed pretty desperate to clear himself of attempted murder.

“Wait. I remember something. With all the thunder and lightning, my neighbor’s dog was going nuts and barking like crazy. I called to complain, but they didn’t answer so I left a message on the machine. Ask them.”

“You could have called them from Budapest. That’s no good.”

“How would I have known the dog was barking? My other neighbor could corroborate that, I’m sure. Just ask him. The dog was really going crazy. Or check the phone records. They’d show I made the call from my house, right?”

“That would only work
if
the call was made at the time of the accident, give or take fifteen minutes. How lucky do you feel, Carlisle?”

“I’m not going to confess to a crime I didn’t commit!” he roared then stood up.

“
Sit down,”
Tom said, his voice low and deadly.

Carlisle eased back into his chair.

“Anyone you know have a tan pickup?”

Carlisle thought about it a moment. “My neighbor down the street, and my brother-in-law,” he answered, then shrugged. “A lot of people own light-colored trucks. What’s your point?” He stared at Tom with the desperation of an animal fighting for its life. “There are paint scrapes from the collision, right? Well, my car’s blue. And my brother-in-law’s truck has been in the shop for nearly a month waiting for a new axle. And neither one has a scrape on it. Check that out yourself.”

Tom came out of the room a few minutes later. “I’ve got a good case for embezzlement, but the rest…” Tom shook his head.

“What about Del Martinez? It was his company that raked in the benefits of the embezzling scheme, if our informant is correct, so he has to know something about where the money came from.”

“All true, but that doesn’t tell us what part—if any—he played in what happened to Jessica. I’m going to bring him in for questioning and see where it goes.”

Sister Agatha stayed in the hallway with Pax as Carlisle was led away to booking. As he walked past her, he shot her a venomous look. “You’re responsible for this mess. Damned crow!”

Millie, the desk sergeant, came up and stood beside Sister Agatha until he was out of view. “Don’t let him get to you. They all trash talk when we bring them in.”

“Thanks, Millie,” she said, touched that the deputy had backed her up.

“By the way, Sister, I wanted to tell you that the Coconut Clones the Dexters are baking are no match for the Cloister Clusters. They’re such an obvious attempt to rip off the monastery’s fund-raising efforts, some people are boycotting the bakery. The Clones’ only advantage is that they’re cheaper,” Millie said, and quoted her a price.

Sister Agatha gasped. “How can they afford that? They couldn’t possibly be using the same ingredients!”

“They’re not. For one thing they use coconut flavoring instead of coconut flakes. Makes them a lot less chewy,” Tom pointed out as Millie stepped away to answer the phone.

Sister Agatha stared at Tom. “I’d like to wring the Dexters’ necks. That’s not very charitable, but there it is.”

He laughed. “Go ahead. Vent. Do penance later.”

“Are you going to be bringing Del Martinez in yourself?” she asked, wanting to stick around if he was.

“I’ve sent two deputies to pick him up.” Seeing Millie come up again, he shifted his attention. “Problem?”

“Yeah. I just got a call from Officer Marquez. Del Martinez can’t be found. The roofers at Our Lady said he left about an hour ago without a word. Another deputy went by his home, and Del isn’t there, either. According to a neighbor, Del came home, five minutes later threw a suitcase in his car, then took off in a hurry.”

“Get a judge. We need warrants to search his home and business office.”

“What’s going to happen to our roof now?” Sister Agatha asked as Millie stepped away. “The workers will need to complete the job, but if their boss is skipping town…”

“Don’t jump to conclusions. The neighbor may have misconstrued what he or she saw. Hang tight and keep this under your hat— or veil.”

When Sister Agatha returned to the monastery, Sister Bernarda was back at the parlor’s desk.

“How’s it going here?” Sister Agatha asked her.

“We’ve had some good news. Justin Clark, the construction crew foreman, said that they’ll be finished with our roof ahead of schedule,” she said, giving Sister Agatha the details.

“That
is
good news.”

“It’s almost one, time for our midday meal. Why don’t you go ahead and join the sisters in the refectory? I’ll handle things here,” Sister Bernarda said. “I’ve already eaten.”

Today’s lunch at the monastery comprised a vegetable casserole that Sister Clothilde had concocted and a small bowl of potato soup. Both tasted delicious and neither the human skull on the table beneath the cross at the far end of the room, nor the martyrology recounting the death of one of the saints, could put a dent in Sister Agatha’s appetite.

Afterwards, she helped Sister Clothilde pick up, all the while doing her best to postpone talking to Reverend Mother. Sister Agatha looked around the refectory as the other sisters filed back into the kitchen for another round of cookie baking, coupled with prayer. People on the outside sometimes thought that the monastery protected them from life. But that wasn’t so. They weren’t immune to hard times. The biggest difference was that, here, it simply meant that they’d be leaning on God even more.