Bad Faith (20 page)

“I appreciate that.”

She left the rectory a moment later feeling troubled. From the evidence, she doubted that whoever had killed Father An-selm had a grudge against priests in general, but the truth of the matter was that she just didn’t know enough yet to rule anything out, and she suspected Tom Green didn’t either.

She and the dog were walking over to the motorcycle at the curb when suddenly Pax stopped and looked off into an alley to the north, growling.

She looked in the direction he was staring, caught a brief glint of chrome, then heard a car drive off in the opposite direction.

She took a deep breath. Someone was following her. Visiting Nazareth Hospital could wait a little longer while she sorted things out here. Now that she thought about it, it would be better to call Suzi first and find out when she’d be available. Meanwhile, it was noon and in the light of day she felt decidedly brave. If Don Malcolm was haunting her because of the motorcycle, it was time she got that matter settled once and for all. He could have the valuable collector’s motorcycle—if he was willing to donate good, reliable transportation to the monastery—a new car, for example. Reverend Mother was sure to approve of that, and as much as she loved the Harley, the monastery’s needs came first.

“Let’s go, Pax.” The big white German shepherd jumped effortlessly into the sidecar.

Sister drove to the south end of Bernalillo and approached Malcolm’s Pawnshop, located in an area with numerous trucking firms and industrial operations. The graveled parking lot contained three late-model sports utility vehicles and a van. Apparently either Mr. Malcolm’s business was booming, or else he attracted prosperous customers.

Parking the motorcycle near the entrance, she went inside with Pax at heel. The store, to her surprise, had very little inventory, and most of that seemed to be gathering dust. But there were sounds of activity from a back room.

A large, dark-haired man in a colorful tropical print shirt stared at her and Pax openly. “You’re in the wrong place, Sister. This isn’t a veterinarians’s office, you’re not blind, and I’m not Catholic. Hell, I’m not even a Christian most of the time. So you’re out of luck if you’re looking for a rabies shot for Snowball, or a handout.”

“I know exactly where I am, and I want to speak to Mr. Malcolm.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re talking to him now.”

“Mr. Malcolm, I’ve heard that you think the Harley-Davidson motorcycle and sidecar that was donated to the monastery should have gone to you.”

“You know about that, do you? Well, the Gonzales kid owed me some serious money. That’s why he offered his wheels in exchange for canceling out his debt. But hey, no problem. Since I didn’t get the bike, he’ll just have to either raise the cash or work off his debt some other way.”

“Since he’s a minor, perhaps you should speak to his parents about it.”

“Sister, I don’t need a nun telling me my business. Now, unless you’re here to turn over the bike to save Bobby’s butt, it’s probably best if you leave.”

She took a deep breath. Don Malcolm had the kind of personality that grated on her nerves as much as screeching chalk on a blackboard, but she wouldn’t let him get to her. “I actually came to make you an offer. If you’re really that interested in the Harley, the monastery might be willing to sell it to you, or exchange it for suitable transportation—like a new car. Maybe a van or truck like one of those outside now.”

He burst out laughing. “I’m supposed to buy you a new car for the chance to get a bike that, by all rights, should have been mine in the first place? Do I look like I just fell off the pumpkin truck, Sister?”

She was thinking that he looked like he’d just been run over by the pumpkin truck, but she couldn’t say it. Instead, she gave him that special stare that nuns had perfected over the years to squelch any disrespect.

Malcolm never even flinched.

“You could think of it as doing a good deed for the monastery, and you’d still get something very valuable out of it. That Harley is a collector’s item, you must know that already.”

“Good deeds get you nowhere, Sister. I learned that a long time ago. Take the bike—for now.”

“What about Bobby Gonzales’s debt?”

Malcolm shrugged. “He’s working it off.”

At that moment a teenaged boy in baggy clothes, with a baseball cap on backward, came out of the back room. “We have some new merchandise that just came in.”

Sister Agatha only caught a glimpse when the boy opened the door, but the back room was filled with video games, VCRs, stereo components, and even some computers.

Malcolm saw her trying to get a better look and motioned to the teen, who ducked back inside, quickly closing the door.

“Sister, don’t you have a soul to save someplace? I’m already going to hell.”

“Perhaps not. We need to talk, Mr. Malcolm. I don’t like the idea of a boy as young as Bobby owing you so much money.”

“Sister, life’s a… rough. Get used to it. Now you better take off. I have work to do.” He took a step around the counter toward her, but Pax stood up quickly and bared his teeth.

“My dog gets very nervous when people exhibit behavior that he considers threatening, sir,” she said.

He stepped back. “Just go away, Sister. We’re both wasting time.”

She turned to leave, keeping the man in sight as she walked toward the door with Pax at her side. Suddenly three sheriff’s cars and two state police cars raced into the parking lot, two heading around toward the back.

Malcolm ran for the side door, but before he could reach it, four uniformed and heavily armed officers rushed the door, weapons raised. “Hands up where we can see them,” one shouted. “This is a raid.”

Pax growled, and one of the officers yelled, “Rex, guard!” Pax recognized his former keeper and stood alert beside Sister Agatha, watching a state policeman in his charcoal gray uniform. All the sheriff’s deputies wore khaki.

A moment later, Sheriff Green came into the front room from the back, holding a shotgun. “We’re secure, sir,” a deputy said.

Tom quickly took in the room. “What in the name of—” Moving quickly, he took Sister Agatha’s arm and started to lead her out, but Pax growled and bared his teeth.

“It’s okay, Pax, easy,” Sister Agatha said quickly. “He’s still a friend—I think.”

Tom released her, but cocked his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”

Sister Agatha, Pax, and the sheriff hurried outside while the other officers searched the store.

“What the heck are you doing here?” he demanded. “Did the monastery send you to pawn something to raise money?”

“No. I came to find out if Don Malcolm was the one who has been following me.” She gave him a quick recap, describing the light-colored sedan, which had never gotten close enough for her to identify, and reminding him about the black pickup she’d already told him about.

“Malcolm owns a black pickup, so I think he’s probably the one who went after you. I’ll try to find out for sure when I question him. I have no idea about the sedan, but I’ll look into it.”

“Is that why you’re here—following up on the black pickup?”

He shook his head. “After you told me about Bobby’s problem, I went to speak to him and his parents. Malcolm had been leaning on Bobby pretty hard, and had the kid scared spitless. I convinced him that we would protect him if he’d testify, so he agreed to cooperate with us. I knew Malcolm had a huge fencing operation but, until now, I hadn’t been able to prove it.”

“I saw a kid or two inside.”

“More than a few were involved, believe me. Malcolm’s been doing business with some of the high school seniors. He’d find one needing money, maybe trying to raise enough for textbooks at the university next semester, or for fixing a broken-down car they needed for an after-school job. With Bobby Gonzales, it was for money he’d already borrowed but couldn’t pay back. His parents didn’t know about it. Malcolm would loan them the money—but it came with an exorbitant interest rate, like a loan shark. When they couldn’t square the debt fast enough, he’d offer them a deal—in lieu of breaking their fingers. The kids were forced to break into homes or cars until they stole enough merchandise to clear the debt— except, with the interest he kept charging, it never would have been cleared.”

“I’m glad you were able to shut him down.”

“So am I, but don’t ever try to deal with people like this man on your own again. You have no idea how much trouble you could have gotten into without some backup.”

“I had Pax with me.”

“If Malcolm had decided that you were a threat to him, he would have shot the dog first, then you, then dumped both your bodies out on the west mesa somewhere. There was a shotgun behind the counter in there.”

He was so matter-of-fact about it that it chilled her to the bone.

Just then two deputies led Malcolm outside, past Sister Agatha. Malcolm turned and snarled at her. “You’re no nun— you’re a cop, right? What you got under that outfit, a tape recorder?”

For a moment, Sister Agatha thought he was going to spit at her, but in a heartbeat Tom stepped in front of her.

“Try it and you’ll be sucking your supper through a straw for the next month,” Green said, his voice low. “She’s a nun—the real thing. Show some respect.” Green glanced at the deputy. “Get him out of here.”

Malcolm sneered. “Hey, make sure your boys lock up the place after they leave. There have been a lot of thefts in this area lately.”

As two more teens were led out of the pawnshop, Sister Agatha noticed that a television station’s van had arrived, and a camerawoman and a young reporter were moving in their direction.

“What are you doing here, Sister? Are you part of the sting, or an undercover officer?” the reporter asked, then held up the microphone.

“Don’t say a word,” Green told her quickly, then got into the reporter’s face. “This is a crime scene. You’ll have to step back until we cordon off the area. Then we can arrange for a briefing.”

“I have an afternoon deadline. Just give me the bare bones. I saw the officers being briefed at the station, then followed them here. But I never expected to see a nun at the scene of a police raid. Is she a cop, or is she under arrest? And is she from the monastery? They sure seem to generate a lot of headlines lately.”

“The sister has no relationship whatsoever to this case, so be careful what you print. I don’t think your station can afford to take on the Church in a lawsuit,” he warned.

Turning his back on the reporter, Tom walked with her toward his car, which was parked beside the Harley. “You and Pax are coming back to the station with me. I need to get a statement from you, and then we’re going to talk about this stalker you’ve picked up.”

“But I really have to get back to the monastery. Poor Sister Bernarda has been doing double duty lately—”

“Save it. This isn’t open for negotiations.”

She stared at him thoughtfully for a moment. “Sheriff, you haven’t changed. The hardest thing for you to give—is in. I’ll meet you at the station.” Sister Agatha swung onto the Harley, signaled Pax into the sidecar, and roared off.

Once at the station, while Pax visited the deputies, most of them old friends, Sister Agatha spent the better part of an hour describing what had occurred each time she’d thought she’d seen someone tailing her. Of course, there wasn’t much she could tell him, and that didn’t improve the sheriff’s mood.

“I thought it was Malcolm trying to intimidate me so I’d give him the Harley. But after talking to him, I’m not so sure about that anymore,” Sister Agatha said.

“You didn’t expect him to confess, did you? He doesn’t admit to anything—even when you’ve nailed him. But this sort of thing is precisely why I didn’t want you to get involved in this investigation in the first place. It’s public knowledge now that you’re on the trail of the killer. The person following you in that sedan could be anyone—a reporter, a motorcycle nut after the bike, or even the killer himself.”

“If it is the killer, why hasn’t he tried to harm me? I’ve been alone every time—except for Pax, of course.”

“He may want to find out what you know first. Then, if he sees you as a threat, he’ll try to take you out next. The perp’s already killed once, so there’s very little to stop him from doing it again.”

“I won’t back off—not until the monastery is totally in the clear.” On his desk was a photo of Tom, his wife, and two boys. Gloria had been a pretty, young, dark-haired woman. She was still pretty, but now she was apparently blond. She and Tom had two mischievous-looking boys. They looked happy. She felt a momentary twinge of nostalgia for what might have been hers.

Tom leaned back in his chair. “Pax can only protect you to a point. When you two are out on the road in the Harley, his strength and speed are no help to you. And if the killer is armed …”

“I’m not relying strictly on the dog. I’m also trusting God to help me so I can do what’s right.”

“God helps those who help themselves.”

“That’s not in the Bible.”

“It’s in the Sheriff Green New Translation—coming soon on CD.”

‘Tom, I have to follow through on this. The monastery needs it to be settled. They’re counting on me and I can’t let them down.”

He leaned forward and studied her expression. “You’re on the trail of something, aren’t you?”

She started to deny it, but then stopped. She wouldn’t resort to lying to him or anyone else.

“I knew it,” he said when she didn’t answer right away. “What have you found out?”

“I have some suspicions, nothing more. If I learn anything you might find useful, I’ll let you know right away.”

He nodded once. “All right. One more thing. If you see that sedan following you again, call me as soon as you can get to a phone. Don’t try to handle it alone like you did today.”

“All right. Can I go back to the monastery now? I really have to talk to Reverend Mother as soon as possible. If the newspaper runs those photos of me at the raid, she’s bound to get some calls and I’d like to prepare her for that.”

“Go ahead. But stay in touch, you hear?”

“Loud and clear, Sheriff.” With a wave, she walked out of the station with Pax by her side and headed home.