The Prodigal Nun (10 page)

“I’ll distract the woman,” Sister Bernarda said.

“Wait a sec. I have a better idea,” Sister Agatha said quickly. “While I keep them busy, you walk around with Pax and keep an eye out for any eavesdropping neighbor. The day
she called me, Jane was worried that someone was listening in on her conversation. She was at home at the time, so maybe it was somebody she knew. There are no fences around, so it would have been easy enough to sneak up and eavesdrop if her window was open.”

“Got it. Anything else?” Sister Bernarda asked.

“Yes. Keep watch for a bike with knobby tires. We know the killer had one.”

“You’ve got it,” Sister Bernarda answered with a nod.

They walked over to meet Louis moments later. While Sister Agatha remained with them, Sister Bernarda excused herself and walked off with Pax.

“We’re very glad you’re here, Sister Agatha,” Louis said. “Christy’s grandson delivers newspapers in our neighborhood, and he’s got some information we think you should hear directly from him.”

The tone of his voice alerted her. “If he has information, the sheriff needs—”

“That’s just it, Sister. Billy won’t talk to the sheriff,” Christy said. “He’s a good boy, but he’s got a record. Nothing major, mind you. It’s just that he’s spent time in juvenile hall and he doesn’t trust the deputies.”

“But Christy pressured him and he’s agreed to talk to you, Sister Agatha,” Louis said.

“All right, but be aware that the sheriff will need to be told about anything that’s connected to the case,” she said. It was possible that Billy’s information was tied to whatever Jane had wanted to talk to her about. Maybe everything would fall into place at last. “Where’s he now?” she added.

“In my house,” Louis said. “Christy’s been cooking for both of us.”

Sister Agatha followed them into the kitchen. The scent of
freshly fried dough made her mouth water. On the metal table directly in front of her was a teenaged boy wolfing down a huge Navajo taco: a big piece of puffy fry bread topped with pinto beans, lettuce, salsa, tomatoes, and lots of shredded cheese.

“Hi,” Sister Agatha said, introducing herself.

He wiped his mouth. “I’m only talking to you, Sister, because Grandma bribed me.
Nobody
cooks like she does,” he added with a grin.

“I’m glad that you agreed to talk to me, but if you have information that the sheriff should have—”

“I’ve got nothing the law can use,” he said, interrupting her. “I barely saw the guy who stole Mr. Sanchez’s bike. You know I throw papers—deliver newspapers—right?”

She nodded. “Go on, Billy.”

“Well, I was in my pickup, throwing the afternoon edition, when I noticed someone walking around the side of Louis’s garage. My first thought was that it was the PNM guy, reading the meter, but when I turned the corner, I saw the PNM guy in his truck. The man I’d seen before was heading in the opposite direction on a red bike. Thing is, I didn’t really think much about it until Grandma told me that someone had stolen Mr. Sanchez’s bike.”

“Did you get a good look at the man?”

“No, I barely glanced at him,” Billy said, then took another huge mouthful. “I was busy trying to fold the next paper and slip on a rubber band without wrecking my truck. I was running behind that day.”

“You’re sure it was a man, not a woman?” she pressed, knowing that people often saw far more than they realized.

“It was a guy,” he said without hesitation. “Guys walk differently than women.”

“What color was his hair?” Sister Agatha asked him.

“Brown—I think. He was wearing a dark blue baseball cap, so I don’t know for sure.”

“Was he tall?”

“Kinda. He was a lot taller than Mr. Sanchez, and not so…stubby.”

So that made him over five foot eight, Sister Agatha concluded silently. “You didn’t actually see him steal the bike?”

“No, and for all I know it was his own and he’d parked it around the corner. All I can tell you for sure is that he rode away on a red bike. That’s why I told Grandma.”

Sister Agatha nodded. “Would you recognize the man if you saw him again?”

“I never saw his face because the baseball cap shaded his eyes. And, oh, he was wearing sunglasses. Forgot about that until now.”

“What kind of clothes was he wearing?”

“Jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with the sleeves rolled up.”

“What color was the shirt?” Sister Agatha pressed. “Was it a service uniform?”

“I remember tan, or maybe cream colored, but that’s all I can tell you. I really wasn’t paying much attention. I just wanted to finish my route so I could go play Street Cred.”

“Come again?” Sister Agatha asked.

“Street Cred, on my computer. It’s a hot new game.”

Billy finished his meal, sopping up the chile sauce by using a piece of fry bread like a scoop. Jamming it into his mouth, he stood. “I’ve gotta go. I didn’t make it to school this morning because I’m on two-day suspension. I’m grounded, too, so I can’t go cruising in my truck unless it’s to throw papers. I just came over to Grandma’s’ cause I knew she wouldn’t rat me out, but I’ve got to get back before my dad calls to check up on me.”

“Have you noticed any other strangers hanging around the area besides the one who may have stolen the bike?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Nope, but you can pass along the information I gave you if it makes any difference.”

“The sheriff will have to know, Billy. He’s trying to catch a killer. Go tell him yourself. It’ll give you some credibility, too, especially with Sheriff Green.”

He stood there a moment, looking at her, then glanced at his grandmother. Christy nodded.

“Okay,” Billy said. “I’ll make the call when I get home. If he sends a deputy by, the whole neighborhood will wonder what trouble I’ve gotten into now, right?” He grinned, then walked to the door and let himself out.

The phone rang, and Louis went to answer it in the living room. Alone with Christy, Sister Agatha smiled at her. “Thanks for convincing him to talk to me.”

“I figured it would help you—and me. You’re probably wondering if maybe
I
had something to do with Jane’s murder. People like to gossip, and I know I’m a hot topic right now.”

Louis returned to the room before Sister Agatha could answer. “I hope Billy was able to help you, Sister,” he said. “People are spreading a lot of nonsense about Christy and me.”

“Neither one of us has ever done anything to deserve that kind of trash talk,” Christy added.

Sister Agatha looked at Louis, then at Christy. Her instincts told her that they weren’t holding out on her, but there were still too many unanswered questions. “Gossip won’t convict anyone,” Sister Agatha said. “Evidence will. If you want to help, give me a list of Jane’s enemies.”

“She bugged people sometimes, but not so badly they would kill—” Louis stopped in midsentence as the phone began to ring again, then excused himself.

“Do you agree with that?” Sister Agatha asked Christy.

Christy considered it for a long moment. “This street has no shortage of personality conflicts, particularly when the neighborhood association meets. Tempers always run short, and sniping’s rampant. Jane wasn’t particularly singled out, though—no more than anyone else with an opinion.”

“Who argued with Jane the most?”

“Me,” she answered without skipping a beat. “That doesn’t mean I killed her. I also argue with my daughter and my grand-kid, and they’re both still walking around.”

Sister Agatha smiled, but questions were racing through her head. “Besides you, then.”

She thought it over. “At the meetings, no one in particular.”

“Outside those times, then,” Sister Agatha pressed.

Christy considered it for a few seconds. “Louis never argued with Jane—which just made it worse for him. The only other people besides me who come to mind right away are her daughter and son-in-law. Jane and Evelyn had huge fights.”

“Over what?”

“Near as I can tell, they got into shouting matches over everything. I’d hear them from my kitchen window. Then again, to stop Jane from walking all over you, you had to get ugly from time to time.”

Louis returned and glanced at Christy, then at Sister Agatha. “Sister, you’re going to have to excuse us. One of the families in our parish lost everything in a house fire, and Father Mahoney asked me if I’d be willing to donate some of Jane’s clothing. I said yes, but then…well, it was harder than I’d thought. That was the main reason Christy came over. We aren’t even close to finished yet, but some volunteers are coming by in a half hour to pick up whatever we have ready.”

Sister Agatha stood, then noticed a familiar purse on the
kitchen counter. “Did Jane have two purses exactly alike?” she asked Louis.

“No. A deputy brought that to me a couple of hours ago. The sheriff doesn’t need it anymore and thought I might because of the keys and ID stuff inside.”

“That was thoughtful,” she answered, then continued, after a pause, “I just had an idea. Would you do something for me? Look inside the purse and see if you can tell if anything’s missing.”

“The sheriff already asked me how much money I thought was stolen, and I told him. It was around a hundred dollars. Besides that, she had one credit card, but it was still there.”

“How about missing items that aren’t money related?”

Louis picked up the purse and began to set the contents out on the counter.

Seeing the prayer book, Sister Agatha suddenly knew what she wanted to ask next. “Didn’t Jane always carry a memo pad in her purse?”

“Yeah, she did,” Louis said, checking every pocket and pouch. “It was one of those brightly colored ones. She was always making notes to herself or leaving them for me. Just look at the fridge,” he said, waving. “I haven’t had the courage to take them down yet.”

“So that’s missing. Did she keep any other pads around the house?”

Louis scratched his head. “Excuse me for a moment.” He left the kitchen and went into the living room.

Sister Agatha heard a drawer open, then another. A moment later, she heard Louis walk into the hall, then the sound of another drawer opening. At long last, he returned to the kitchen. “That’s odd. She always left memo pads on her desk and on the bedroom dresser. There were several of them around in that same pink color. Now they’re all gone.”

“Maybe the deputies took them,” Christy offered. “Or the sheriff.”

“They would have given Louis a receipt,” Sister Agatha said. “I know that from my journalist days.”

“Are those pads important for some reason?” Louis asked her.

“You remember that Jane called last Friday and wanted to talk to me about something?”

“Yes, but I still have no idea what that was about,” Louis said.

“There’s something I didn’t mention before. When Jane called, she hung up almost immediately after telling me that she thought someone was listening in,” Sister Agatha answered, watching back and forth between the two for a reaction.

“Like me?” Louis asked in confusion. “I might have been in the next room, but I never eavesdrop on purpose.”

“Jane did,” Christy blurted out.

“Christy!” Louis exclaimed.

“Sorry to be so blunt, but you know she did, Louis. Jane was a snoop.”

“Well,
I
wasn’t,” he said, his voice soft and strained.

Sister Agatha wasn’t surprised about Jane. “She may have meant someone listening in through an open window, or maybe on the phone,” Sister Agatha reasoned. Looking over, she noticed that the phone was an older cordless model. Phones like that had a reputation for being vulnerable to bugs, or even neighbors on the same frequency.

“Do you think that’s the reason Jane was killed, and it wasn’t just a robbery?” Christy asked. “The sheriff should be told about this if he doesn’t know already.”

“He knows some of it, but I’ll speak to him and tell him the rest,” Sister Agatha said.

“You’re thinking that maybe Jane wrote something down on a memo pad and the killer took them all to make sure nobody else could find out…why she was killed?” Louis’s voice faded at the end.

“If that’s really what happened, Louis, you can trust Sheriff Green to get to the bottom of it,” Sister Agatha said. “In the meantime, if either of you thinks of anything, call him right away.”

Both nodded.

They were just leaving the kitchen when Sister Agatha heard the sound of metal clanking. That was instantly followed by Pax’s frantic barking.

Christy went to the window. “Somebody’s broken into my garage!”

Christy rushed out the back door, Louis and Sister Agatha at her heels. When they reached the garage, the right-hand door was half open. Sister Agatha saw Sister Bernarda inside, grasping Pax’s leash hard and trying to pull him back. The dog was totally focused on something in the far corner and refused to back away.

Sister Agatha hurried over to help and, as she drew near, heard a dry rattle—a sound she instantly recognized. A rattlesnake was curled in the corner, poised to strike.

D
ON’T EVER STRUGGLE WITH PAX, SISTER BERNARDA
. You’ll lose,” Sister Agatha said as she took the leash. “Pax, back,” she said in a calm voice.

Pax continued barking but took a step back, then another, used to his handler. Sister Agatha continued until she’d pulled Pax well away from the striking range of the snake.

“He spotted the snake outside and chased it into that corner beside that bike. The garage door was open,” Sister Bernarda explained to no one in particular, not taking her eyes off the coiled reptile, which was watching back, its tongue flicking the air.

“If there was a rattler in my yard, I’m glad it was the
dog
who found it,” Christy said, standing well behind everyone. “I hang clothes out on the line all the time, and sometimes I come out barefooted.”

“We need to call the county. That snake’s gotta go,” Louis
said. “We have too many kids in this neighborhood. Keep an eye on it while I make a call to animal control,” he added, then ran back to his house.

Christy’s gaze shifted to the tools scattered all over the floor. “What happened here?”

“That’s my fault, too,” Sister Bernarda said. “I lost control of the dog, and in his eagerness to get at the snake, he knocked the chair over and the tools.”