The Prodigal Nun (6 page)

The young woman with him, her tanned face showing only a trace of lipstick, was wearing a black blouse and a long, pleated dark blue skirt. She stepped forward and immediately introduced herself.

“I’m Evelyn Sanchez-Bennett,” she said, shaking Sister Agatha’s hand. “We’ve come to ask permission to set up a
descanso
, a small memorial where my mother—” Her voice broke, and she swallowed hard. “Where my mother passed away,” she finished at last. “Just a few candles, a cross, and some flowers.”

Sister Agatha knew the New Mexican custom well, having seen countless of the small, makeshift roadside shrines at scenes of fatal accidents.

“We are so very sorry for your loss,” Sister Agatha said. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go ask Reverend Mother for permission to set up a
descanso.”

“I’ll go, Your Charity,” replied Sister Bernarda, who was standing a few feet behind her.

Sister Agatha shook her head. “I need to speak to Mother on another urgent matter.”

As Sister Agatha hurried inside, she turned and saw Sister Bernarda comforting the grieving family. Though normally a gruff woman, Sister Bernarda had a wellspring of gentleness inside her that always came to the surface in situations like this. Jane’s family couldn’t have been in more caring hands.

S
ISTER AGATHA KNOCKED ON THE PRIORESS’S OPEN DOOR.
Reverend Mother was facing the small statue of St. Joseph in the far corner, lost in prayer.

As Sister Agatha silently waited for her to finish, she could hear the sounds of Sister Maria Victoria at the sewing machine farther down the hall. She could also see Sister Ignatius busy with an arrangement of flowers placed at the feet of the large statue of the Blessed Mother by their library’s entrance.

“Praised be Jesus Christ,” Reverend Mother said at last, turning around.

“Now and forever,” Sister Agatha answered, coming in.

Sister Agatha quickly updated Reverend Mother on what was happening with the sheriff’s investigation, the incident with the intruder at the Sanchez home, and the apparent threats to the sisters. Last, she told her about the request they’d received from the victim’s daughter.

“It’s an old New Mexican custom to erect a small shrine near the place where a loved one has died. We’d have her place the
descanso
off to one side, of course, out of the flow of traffic, maybe among the lilacs,” Sister Agatha added.

“All right. Tell them to go ahead. It’s the least we can do for the family.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

Sister Agatha excused herself, then hurried back outside to join the others.

Sister Bernarda came up to meet her. “Jane’s son-in-law is a deputy, one of Sheriff Green’s men,” Sister Bernarda whispered, then gestured to a white and brown department vehicle. “That’s Deputy Gerry Bennett’s patrol car.”

“It’s understandable he’d want to be with his family at a time like this,” Sister Agatha said, “but that’s probably as close as Deputy Bennett’s going to get to this case. Tom won’t allow him to take an active part in this investigation, for obvious reasons.”

When Louis and Evelyn went inside the chapel, Sister Agatha followed. Sister Bernarda, a half step behind her, moved to intercept the photographers.

“Show some respect, please,” she said, then faced them, arms crossed in front of her chest. “This is God’s house. You will
not
turn it into a photo gallery.”

Knowing things were being handled outside, Sister Agatha closed the chapel door and followed the mourning family down the center aisle. Evelyn genuflected, crossed herself, and knelt at the altar railing. Louis stood behind her, his shoulders sagging.

Sister Agatha’s heart went out to them, and she stood back, giving them their moment of prayer.

Hearing the door behind her open, Sister Agatha turned her head and saw a tall, slender deputy standing there, billed uniform cap in hand. A glance at his name tag told her who
he was, and she went to meet him. He’d chosen to remain in the foyer instead of entering the chapel.

“Would you like to come in, Deputy Bennett?” she asked him.

He shook his head. “Not while I’m armed. I’m not Catholic, but any church deserves that courtesy. Do you have a moment, Sister Agatha? I’d like to speak with you.”

Sister Agatha nodded, but as she started to lead the way back outside, he stopped her.

“Not out front, Sister. Those reporters won’t give us a moment’s peace.”

Sister Agatha nodded, then led him out the small side entrance of the chapel. That door, mostly hidden by evergreens, was seldom used. It had been part of the old framework—when the monastery had been nothing more than a big farmhouse with outbuildings.

Once outside, she moved into the shadows and faced him. Behind him she could see the corner of the chapel, and beyond, the parking lot. If any reporters came close enough to listen, she’d spot them. “What can I do for you, Deputy Bennett?”

“Sheriff Green is working this case personally, but I’ll be following it closely, too. I know that my mother-in-law came here every Sunday for Mass. Did she ever speak to you about any enemies she may have made?”

Sister Agatha hesitated. “I’m not sure if I should answer your questions, Deputy. As you said yourself, this is Sheriff Green’s case.”

Just for a second she saw anger flash in his eyes; then his expression became one of polite neutrality. “Sister Agatha, my mother-in-law could be a very difficult woman, but she deserves justice. I owe it to my family to help the sheriff any way I can, though, obviously, I can’t officially work the case.”

He started to say more, then, hearing voices, turned and saw Louis and Evelyn coming down the steps of the chapel’s main entrance. “I better go,” he said and hurried over to meet them.

As Sister Agatha walked to the front of the chapel, Sheriff Green approached. Some of the reporters were now hovering around the victim’s family, but Sister Agatha’s friend Chuck Moody had already left.

“Louis has an iron-clad alibi,” Tom said quietly. “We checked with the casino, and the people there remember him. Of course, he could have hired a professional to kill her. The silencer isn’t a tool used by amateurs.”

“What’s the motive?”

“Jealousy or infidelity? Maybe Jane was having an affair. I’ve found nothing to indicate that yet, but you never know.”

“Judging from Louis’s reaction and Jane’s devoutness, I really doubt that, Tom. Tell me, what was stolen from the cars on the lot? I never heard.”

“Two women are missing their garage door openers. That’s it,” Tom said.

“Considering everything, that’s not too bad.”

“I’m going to catch whoever did this,” Tom said with quiet confidence.

“I know you will. We have faith in you and your deputies, and God’s on your side. Don’t doubt that for a minute.”

“Is your faith really that strong?” he asked, his eyes probing hers.

She nodded. “It’s why I became a nun. I may fail God, but He’ll never fail me.”

Sister Agatha spent most of the night awake in her cell, one of the monastery’s small, simple bedrooms. She’d wanted to
stay somewhat alert to Pax, who was outside, guarding the grounds.

Sister Agatha occupied her time thinking, reconstructing the events, particularly her last, brief conversation with Jane. Her failure to help a person who’d reached out to her was like a heavy yoke around her heart. She’d prayed for forgiveness, but she needed to do more—like help the sheriff find the killer before he struck again. If someone else died, the weight of her own guilt would consume her.

It was almost four thirty in the morning, time for the Maria bell to ring telling the sisters to rise, when she decided to go speak to the deputy on duty outside. By now, he was probably tired, undoubtedly less guarded, and more likely to talk freely, particularly to a nun. The Great Silence couldn’t be broken except in grave emergencies until after Morning Prayers, but she wouldn’t be inside the monastery. She’d go outside to speak to the deputy and catch him before he went off duty.

It was still dark when Sister Agatha slipped outside and greeted Pax with a hug. Together, they went around to the parking area, just inside the closed gate. The floodlight, which was connected to a motion sensor, came on, illuminating the area. She could see the sheriff’s department vehicle about fifty feet farther up the road. Hearing steps in the gravel to her right, she turned to look.

A tall, slender deputy came out from behind the solid wall that anchored the right half of their metal gate.

“Deputy Bennett?” she asked, wondering what he was doing here.

“No, Sister,” he said. “I’m Sergeant McKay. I saw the light come on, so I thought I’d come around and make sure everything was okay.”

Pax sat on Sister Agatha’s left side, his gaze on the uniformed officer.

“It’s about time for our wake-up bells. I was already up, so I thought I’d come out and say hello to Pax. It’s been such a trying time for all of us,” she said, her voice strained. “To have one of our regulars at Mass killed right here…that was quite a shock.”

“Nothing surprises me anymore,” he said in a somber voice. “After nearly fifteen years as a police officer, I’ve seen too much of the dark side of human nature.”

Sister Agatha studied Deputy McKay. She recalled having seen him at the sheriff’s office a few times, but they’d never spoken. The man was in his late forties and had a wariness in and around his eyes that attested to what he’d just said. Police work always seemed to take a toll.

“Did you know Jane Sanchez?” she asked him.

“I knew
of
her, that’s all. Supposedly she was a very opinionated woman.” He shrugged. “Some people can only hear their own voices.”

“Seem like there’s a lot of that going around,” she answered with a smile.

He laughed, and she was relieved to hear it. She wanted to keep him talking, and lightening the mood would help. “What else have you heard?”

“I understand Mrs. Sanchez had her husband pretty much under her thumb. Though I heard that when she tried that on her son-in-law and daughter, it backfired major league.”

“How do you know so much about Jane?” she said, curiosity, not recrimination, alive in her tone.

“Her son-in-law, Gerry Bennett, and I went through the police academy together, and we’re friends. Gerry had to live with his in-laws while he and his wife were having their house built,
and that was a real nightmare. By the time the house was finished, Gerry and Evelyn were on the brink of divorce. Gerry blamed it on Jane’s meddling.”

“Mother-in-law problems are fairly common,” Sister Agatha said with a rueful smile.

“Yeah, but Gerry’s too much like Jane, always has to have the last word. Evelyn was probably stuck in the middle—mother versus husband. Thing is, Jane could be hard to deal with. I saw her a week ago parked outside the station during the noon hour. When I mentioned it to Gerry, he told me that his mother-in-law thought he was cheating on Evelyn and was probably hanging around hoping to catch him with another woman.”

“So Gerry and Jane had serious problems?”

His gaze narrowed, and he paused, choosing his words more carefully this time. “If you’re asking me whether I think Gerry killed her, the answer’s no.” He took a breath, then continued. “Gerry can be difficult, but he’s a good officer.”

“That says something,” Sister Agatha said. What he’d already told her about Gerry didn’t exactly remove him from the suspect list, though. If he’d really believed that Jane was trying to destroy his marriage, he could have seen her as a threat. And even if she was killed by a professional—well, no one had more contacts in the underworld than a cop.

After a few more minutes of chatting, she returned inside, ready for Matins, which was chanted before daybreak as a counter to the evils that plagued the night.

Two hours later, once Morning Prayers ended, Sister Agatha was called to Reverend Mother’s office. After the customary greeting, Reverend Mother invited Sister Agatha to sit down. “I received a call from the Archbishop a few minutes ago. He’s very
concerned about all the attention the monastery is already getting from the newspapers and media. First because of our involvement with the Good News Meal Program and now with the murder. The fact that cars were broken into didn’t escape his notice either.”

“There’s nothing we can do about the press, Mother, but we’ll weather this storm as we have others in the past. At least no vehicles were vandalized, except for ours.”

“The Archbishop is worried people will be hesitant to attend Mass, not just here but in town, too, until the criminal is caught. That’s why he specifically requested that you help the sheriff gather the information he needs.”

“I’ll do all I can, but Sheriff Green warned me that the mayor is upset about my involvement in past investigations. He was worried about potential lawsuits, I guess.”

“I know how skilled you are, and I’m sure you’ll find a way to help out. Your curiosity is as much a part of you as the habit you wear, and you have one important advantage over most people on the outside—your willingness to rely totally on God. He’ll always guide those who are faithful to Him.”

Grateful that she’d been sanctioned to do the work she’d wanted to see through, Sister Agatha left Mother’s office and went to the parlor. Sister Bernarda was at the desk.

“Where’s Sister Jo this morning?” Sister Agatha asked. “I just walked past the scriptorium, but only Sister de Lourdes was there.”

“Sister Jo’s outside with Pax.”

“Will she be substitute teaching today?”

“Yes, but she won’t be needed at St. Charles until this afternoon, so she’ll be taking care of the Good News deliveries once Sister Clothilde gets things ready.”

Sister Agatha joined Sister Bernarda, who was standing at the window, and laughed, seeing the young nun playing tug-of-war with Pax and winning by giving him a kiss on the nose. Sister Jo was impetuous and likely to lead with her heart in most matters, and there was an innocence about the child-at-heart that endeared her to everyone.

M
INUTES LATER, SISTER AGATHA WAS ON HER WAY TO
town with Pax riding in the Harley’s sidecar. The dog held his nose high into the wind, enjoying all the scents around him. Pax instinctively made the most out of each moment, never worrying about either the future or the past. She envied him that.