Bad Faith (11 page)

K
nowing that everyone connected to the dead priest was a potential suspect, Sister Agatha headed next to the Catholic school where Father Anselm had been headmaster.

On the way, she saw a light-colored vehicle parked by the side of the road. No one was behind the wheel and no one seemed to be about. She glanced around, wondering if someone needed help, but seeing no one, drove past it, never giving it another thought. A second later, glancing back one last time in her rearview mirror, she caught a glimpse of the sedan pulling out behind her onto the road.

Surprised, she watched it for a second. It didn’t make sense unless the driver had ducked down to avoid being seen as she’d driven by. The theory made her uneasy, but the fact that he now appeared to be keeping pace with her, staying about three car lengths behind, supported it.

Not knowing if she was being followed by a killer or simply someone curious about the bike, she decided to make a random change in her course. She’d take a side road and see if the vehicle stayed with her.

“Hang on, Pax.” She quickly turned up a side road without signaling.

Moving past a large alfalfa field, she looked into the rear-view mirror and saw the other vehicle turning in the same direction.

Of course, it didn’t mean for certain that the driver was tailing her. He or she could live at, or be visiting, a farm farther down the road. But, just to be sure, she made a left turn at the next intersection, which circled the big field, then roared back down to the highway, leaving a cloud of dust. When she reached the highway, there was no traffic coming and she quickly accelerated toward Bernalillo.

The car failed to catch up, and Sister Agatha breathed a sigh of relief. The whole incident had unnerved her. Pushing the cycle for more speed, she arrived at St. Charles Academy in record time.

Sister Agatha parked, then walked Pax to a shady spot beneath a pine in front of the administration building. Looping his leash loosely around a low branch, she petted the dog. “Stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

The dog lay down, perfectly content to stay on the cool grass.

As she cut across the yard, she saw that the schoolyard was nearly empty except for the basketball game taking place on a large concrete slab that served as the court. A gym teacher wearing shorts and a St. Charles T-shirt was coaching the kids. Sister Agatha realized that most of the students attending the abbreviated summer session were probably inside in class. Summer sessions were always busy here. Many of the parents weren’t comfortable unless the kids were occupied during the summer, so St. Charles always had an active summer session.

As she went into the main office, she saw Mrs. Romero, the assistant principal, inside one of the private offices.

Seeing Sister Agatha, Patsy waved at her to come in. “Hi, Sister! It’s good to see you!”

“Do you have time to talk? I needed to ask you a few questions about Father Anselm,” Sister said. Patsy was a heavyset woman in her fifties who seemed to struggle perpetually with her weight. Of course, the candy bars that she always seemed to have within easy reach were undoubtedly part of the reason for that.

“What do you need to know?” Patsy got up and shut the door, giving them some privacy.

“Were any children or parents here at St. Charles a thorn in Father Anselm’s side?” Sister Agatha noticed a photograph of the priest on the wall. It had been draped in black cloth.

Mrs. Romero sat back down and followed Sister’s gaze. “You’re looking for an idea of who might have wanted to harm him?”

“We need to find the truth. The nuns are about to have their whole world turned upside down by a police investigation, and things will probably keep getting worse unless the sheriff clears things up or finds a suspect outside the monastery.”

“Surely Tom Green doesn’t think that the sisters had anything to do with Father’s death!” Assistant Principal Romero shook her head, thought about it for a moment, then addressed her question. “Most of our students are really great, but kids are kids. Some, I swear, are only on this earth to serve as a reminder to their parents that sex comes at a price.”

Sister Agatha chuckled. “What about the parents?” she asked.

“Those who send their kids to our academy and pay our tuition are usually very aware of what’s going on in their kids’ lives. That can create friction when they don’t feel their kid scored high enough on a test, and that sort of thing. Parents want to know they’re getting their money’s worth. Parental pressure is less on the scholarship students, but that’s probably because those kids are very highly motivated themselves. They know if they don’t perform, they’ll lose their scholarships.”

Hearing the bell ring, she casually glanced out the window. “What in heaven’s name—” Patsy rose to her feet quickly. “I’m sorry, Sister, I’ve got to get out there. The next period will be lunchtime for some and there’s a motorcycle parked on the grounds with a huge dog beside it. I don’t recognize either and some of our kids are already heading over there.”

“Don’t worry. It’s ours—the dog included,” Sister Agatha said, and Patsy turned around in surprise. “Our old car is at Mr. Gonzales’s garage again, its second home, apparently. That beautiful red motorcycle and sidecar was a donation. It was originally intended for Bobby Gonzales, but his parents gave it to the monastery so we’d have some transportation while our car is being repaired. It’s been a lifesaver.”

“The keys aren’t in it, are they, Sister?”

“Absolutely not,” Sister Agatha said, holding them up by one finger. “And Pax won’t hurt anyone. Let me go out there. I’ve taken up enough of your time. But call me if you think of anyone who might have had a grudge against Father Anselm.”

“Sure thing, Sister Agatha.”

As she walked across the schoolyard, she saw the kids were hesitant to approach Pax. Although the dog was lying down, perfectly calm, his size alone was enough to make most of them cautious.

Two teenaged girls crouched down and tentatively began to pet him. Pax’s tail began wagging furiously.

“Hello, girls,” Sister Agatha greeted.

“Sister Agatha, is this
your
dog? He’s so beautiful!” the tall black-haired girl with almond eyes said.

“Not mine, the monastery’s.”

“If you come to substitute teach this summer, will you bring him?”

Substitute teaching was a task Reverend Mother had assigned her as a way to help the parochial school, but she hated doing it It was too much a link to her past. “I don’t know, I really hadn’t thought about it.”

“Wow, does that Harley belong to the sisters too?” said a heavyset boy wearing black-framed glasses and a purple St. Charles T-shirt. She thought she recognized him from a class she’d taught for the gifted program, and recalled his name as Jason. “It’s awesome!”

“It sure is. And, yes, the motorcycle belongs to the monastery as well.”

“Wow. A nuncycle. Sister, you need boots and a black leather jacket to ride that thing,” Jason said. “With redundant zippers and metal studs.”

She laughed. “No, I don’t think the Vatican would authorize that radical change in the habit.”

As they clustered around, others joining the group, she saw a fragile-looking boy in a baggy gray knit shirt pushed aside roughly. “Hey, newbee, step aside.” A tall junior or senior wearing a football jersey growled, then laughed when his victim nearly fell.

“Show some respect for others!” Sister Agatha said firmly, turning and looking the bully right in the eye. Pax stood and came up behind her, staring at the teen as well. He bared his teeth but remained silent.

“Sorry, kid,” the bully mumbled. “Sorry, Sister Agatha.”

The smaller boy gave her a grateful smile, and she turned her attention back to Jason, who was asking her something about the motorcycle. By the time she turned back around, the boy who’d been shoved was gone. Most of the other students were beginning to wander off as well, heading to their cars or beginning to walk home.

“Who’s the boy in the gray shirt? I don’t recall seeing him before.” Sister Agatha asked the girl closest to her.

“That’s Timmy something, Johnson maybe. He’s new at St. Charles. I heard that all the medications he takes for asthma have stunted his growth. He doesn’t take PE, and a few of the bullies give him a hard time about that, but that’s probably because he’s smarter than all of them put together. He has a full scholarship, I think.”

Sister Agatha’s heart filled with sympathy. Kids could be unbelievably cruel without giving it a single thought.

Grabbing her helmet, Sister gave Pax the command to get into the sidecar. As the kids watched, she roared away on the motorcycle.

She found Timmy at the end of the school grounds. He was walking very slowly, and from the movement of his shoulders she suspected he was having problems breathing. “Would you like a ride home, Timothy?”

He breathed heavily and nodded. “Thanks. I’m having some problems right now.” He brought out a white inhaler, used it, then climbed up behind her onto the big saddle. Sister handed him her helmet, and made a mental note to find a second one for passengers.

“Put this on, Timothy. You can leave the visor up to make breathing easier. But snap on the chin strap, okay?”

He nodded, then put on the helmet. It was too big, and he could barely see out because it rode so low on his head, but his mouth and nose weren’t blocked.

“Where’s home?”

“It’s not far, Sister, but on a hot day like today it takes me a while.” He gave her directions that she knew led to a poor neighborhood close to the railroad tracks.

Sister Agatha drove slowly, hoping that the ride and fresh air would help the boy.

Following his directions, they quickly arrived at a rundown trailer home. No one seemed around.

“Is someone here in case you have a problem with your asthma?”

He climbed off, then handed her the helmet. “I can take care of myself, Sister. We have a phone, and I can call my mom at work.”

Somehow the assurance from this frail boy didn’t convince her. “Is there anything I can do?” she asked, noting that his breathing seemed better, but was still labored. She didn’t want to leave unless he was out of danger.

“I’ll be fine once I take my afternoon pill. I had a chocolate bar, and chocolate doesn’t like me very much—particularly with peanuts.”

“But sometimes the temptation is too much, huh?”

He smiled broadly. “You got it, Sister.” He paused, then looked at her, showing a little red on his cheeks that she knew came from embarrassment. “You did something nice for me, so now I’d like to do something for you. I’ve seen your motorcycle before. It used to belong to Bobby Gonzales. He said he was going to give it away to a guy he owed money to, then tell his dad about it later. Now Bobby is worried because his dad gave it away, and he can’t give the guy the motorcycle like he promised. From what I hear, the guy’s really angry, and wants the Harley.”

“Who’s the man wanting the bike?”

Timothy shook his head. “I can’t tell you, Sister. I wasn’t supposed to know about it anyway. I just heard it by accident. And Bobby knows I know. If word gets out, he knows where I live. Just be careful riding around after dark.” He glanced at Pax. “It’s a good thing you have that dog with you. He’s almost as dangerous as I am.” Timothy tried a tough expression, but it wouldn’t sell.

Sister glanced back at Pax. He was panting and his fangs gleamed.

‘Timothy, you have to tell me the man’s name, particularly if he’s as bad as you say.”

“He
is
bad, Sister, and please don’t tell anyone what I said. I can take care of myself at school, but I worry about my mom. And one more thing. Thanks for not calling me Timmy. I hate that stupid name.”

Sister Agatha watched the boy go inside, lost in thought. She was glad to hear the click as he locked the door behind himself. She wondered if his story about the motorcycle had just been something made up or misinterpreted by a lonely little boy. She didn’t think so, but there was clearly no way for her to substantiate it right now without putting someone else on the spot. If she told Reverend Mother the Harley was a source of danger, she’d be forbidden to use the motorcycle, and that would place an enormous hardship on the sisters who’d be left without any transportation at all. Maybe she could find a way to ask Mr. Gonzales about it when she checked up on the Antichrysler.

As she drove back to the monastery, she kept an eye out for the car that had followed her before, but it never appeared. Thanking God for the peaceful ride home, she wondered if the driver she’d seen had been the man who’d wanted Bobby’s motorcycle.

When she pulled through the monastery’s gates a short time later, she was surprised to see Sister Bernarda rushing out. “We have an emergency. Sister Gertrude is very sick. I’ve called an ambulance.”

Sister Agatha rushed inside the enclosure, fear biting at her. “What happened?”

“The choir nuns were in the middle of chanting Divine Office when Sister doubled over and fell to her knees. Sister Eugenia helped her back inside, and they’re both in the infirmary right now. Though Sister Gertrude insists she’s fine now, she’ll need to be taken to a hospital for an examination.” Sister Bernarda looked at the motorcycle. “But, obviously, not in that. Even in the sidecar, she’ll be terrified.”

“An ambulance will take forever. They’re never quick to respond to people outside the city. Let me call over to St. Charles Academy. Someone might still be there, and be able to give us a ride.”

Fifteen minutes later, with Patsy Romero driving, Sister Agatha and Sister Gertrude were on their way in the assistant principal’s minivan. Sister Gertrude kept her eyes closed, praying the rosary.

“How’s she doing?” Patsy asked, looking in the rearview mirror.

The passing scenery was going by at a blur. Sister Agatha realized that Patsy must have been going eighty miles per hour or more down the interstate. Sister Agatha started to tell her to slow down, but after glancing at Sister Gertrude’s face, decided that speed was a good idea.

“She’ll be fine,” Sister Agatha said calmly. “Our Lady will help her. Sister Gertrude has a great devotion to the Blessed Mother.”