The Prodigal Nun (7 page)

Soon she arrived in Jane and Louis’s neighborhood. This morning she intended to find out as much as she could about Jane’s life. Jane had discovered something disturbing, and Sister Agatha strongly suspected that learning what that was would lead her to a possible motive for Jane’s death.

Next door to the Sanchez house, on the left side, stood an old stucco home. A lush carpet of weeds choked what had once been a lawn. Chipped yellow paint covered the wooden trim and front door, but the ground was clear all the way to the mailbox.

This was the best place to start. As Sister Agatha pulled up on the Harley, a woman in her late fifties or early sixties stepped out to the front porch, wiping her hands on a dish cloth.

“I’ve heard all about you and your dog, Sister,” she said after Sister Agatha introduced herself. “I’m Christy White. I guess you’re here to help find out why poor Jane Sanchez was killed. It had to be something more than just a robbery gone sour.”

“What makes you say that?” Sister Agatha asked instantly.

“The deputies who came by earlier kept asking me who Jane’s enemies were. That sure sounded like a murder investigation to me.”

“There are a lot of questions that still need answering,” Sister Agatha said, purposely remaining vague. “If you can spare a few minutes, I’d like to talk to you.”

“Sure, come on in. Bring the dog, too. I’m doing some baking, so we’ll talk in the kitchen.”

Unlike the exterior, the interior of the house was well maintained, with a comfortable, lived-in look. An afghan crocheted in pastel colors was draped across the back of the dark blue couch, and a macramé hanging covered one wall.

“Those are lovely pieces,” Sister Agatha said, gesturing.

“I like working with my hands. It helps me relax.”

As they stepped into the kitchen, Sister Agatha saw bowls and floured pans covering all the countertops.

“I’m trying two different recipes at the same time today,” Christy explained. “I’ll be entering the best one in a magazine contest. Last year I won ten thousand dollars for my blue corn and piñon muffins.”

Sister Agatha blinked.
“That
much for a muffin recipe?”

“There’s a lot of money to be made in these contests—but you have to win, of course.”

Knowing that Sister Clothilde’s recipes were second to
none, she considered asking Christy more about it, but before she could, Christy continued.

“But you didn’t come here to talk about my cooking, so let’s get down to it,” she said, stirring a bowl filled with batter. “I’ve been Jane and Louis’s neighbor for many years, and I can tell you that Louis is a good man. I never could stand Jane. Half of the time I wanted to throttle her. But I didn’t kill her.”

“How come you two didn’t get along?” Sister Agatha asked.

“I hated the way she tried to run people’s lives—especially Louis’s—and it was even worse than usual lately.” She lapsed into a long, thoughtful silence, but Sister Agatha didn’t interrupt, wanting her to continue at her own pace.

Finally, Christy spoke again. “She meant well, Jane did, but in an attempt to give him a few more tomorrows she was making his todays completely miserable. Do you get me?” Seeing Sister Agatha nod, she went on. “Poor Louis was having a real tough time with all the rules Jane had laid down, too. That’s why I’d let him sneak over from time to time for a cup of regular coffee and a doughnut, or take him over to the casino on Sundays so he could enjoy their buffet.”

“So you and Jane didn’t see eye to eye on much…” Sister Agatha let the sentence hang, hoping Christy would fill in more gaps.

“That’s absolutely true,” Christy answered, meeting Sister Agatha’s gaze boldly, “but if I killed everyone I didn’t approve of, we’d have a real small neighborhood.”

Sister Agatha chuckled softly.

Christy poured the batter into cake pans, then glanced back at Sister Agatha. “Right now, I’ve got to tell you, I’m more worried about Louis than what happened to Jane.”

“Do you think there’s any way we at the monastery can help him?”

Christy thought it over before answering. “Louis is mad at God. I don’t think he’s ready to listen to anyone or anything.”

“Thanks so much for taking time to talk to me,” Sister Agatha said, standing. “You’ve been a big help, and I enjoyed visiting with you.”

“It was mutual. I work part-time at Rio Casino, in the bakery, naturally, so I’m not always home, but feel free to drop by anytime I’m here.”

“Thanks, and please keep an eye on Louis for us. Sometimes it’s hard for people going through a crisis to reach out and ask for help. Yet that’s the time they need it most.”

“It’s a good thing he’s got friends like you,” Christy said. “His only close relatives are his daughter, Evelyn, and her child, but since he doesn’t get along with his son-in-law…” She shrugged.

“What’s the problem between them?” Sister Agatha asked.

“I’m not sure,” Christy said. “Louis told me once that Gerry was an irritating jerk. That was back when they were all living next door, but things didn’t improve much between Louis and Gerry even after Gerry left.”

Sister Agatha walked to the door. “Thanks again.”

As she walked with Pax back to the Harley, Sister Agatha mulled over everything she’d learned. Christy had seemed very open, but there was more to her involvement with the Sanchez family. She could feel it in her bones.

H
ER VISIT WITH THE OTHER NEIGHBORS YIELDED NOTHING
new. Frustrated, she returned to the monastery.

As a nun, she’d vowed to let God lead her, to relinquish all her own plans and place herself entirely in His hands. Yet truly letting go of her own opinions and ideas about the way things
should
be done was the hardest challenge of all.

Knowing that reliable intuitions only came during times of inner silence, she decided to walk in the monastery’s grounds with Pax instead of going inside. Surrounded by stillness and peace, she stopped to gaze at a beautiful white butterfly.

Suddenly a brightly colored box came flying over the block wall that separated their monastery from the vineyard next door. Startled, she froze, but Pax shot forward and began nosing the object on the ground.

Sister Agatha listened for whoever had thrown the box but heard nothing outside the wall, not even footsteps. Whoever
was responsible was either extremely light on his feet or still there.

She drew closer to the foil gift container—about the size of a shoe box—and saw Pax turn it over with his snout. A dead crow tumbled out, a tiny circular piece of white cloth wrapped around its neck like a nun’s scapular.

Sister Agatha called Pax to her side immediately and placed him at stay. Crouching, she studied the dead bird. Pinned to its chest was one of their monastery’s prayer cards, the small thank-you tokens given to their benefactors. Each contained a promise that the sisters would pray for the donor’s intentions. This particular one had the letters
AMDG
written in her own hand at the bottom. It meant
Ad majorem Dei gloriam
, “to the greater glory of God”—a personal touch she added to each card she handed out.

Hearing a door slam, she turned and saw Sister Bernarda jogging toward her. “Don’t touch it!” Sister Bernarda called out. “It could be dangerous.”

“I think it’s only intended as a warning,” Sister Agatha said, stepping aside to give her a clearer look. “I just wish there was some way to tell who originally received that card.”

Sister Agatha went over to the wall, pulled herself up, and looked around. No one was within sight. The long-established grape vines were thick with leaves and afforded many hiding places. She waited for a moment, but nothing changed.

“Maybe we should start making the prayer cards more specific,” Sister Bernarda said.

“It probably wouldn’t have helped, at least not in this instance. There’s no way to prove that this card wasn’t stolen,” Sister Agatha said, studying the crow again without touching it. “Our prayer cards are often left on desks or counters where everyone can see them. I’ve even spotted a few on office bulletin boards.”

“Should I call the sheriff?” Sister Bernarda asked. “I hate to bother him about a dead bird—even one that’s meant to symbolically represent us.”

“I don’t want to legitimize this in any way either, but we have no other choice. We’re not supposed to divert the deputy parked outside unless it’s an emergency, and this doesn’t qualify, but since it’s the second threat we’ve received, Tom has to be told,” Sister Agatha said. “I’ll stay here and make sure no creature comes along and carries the carcass off.” She glanced at Pax, who’d never taken his eyes off the bird. “That means you too, boy.”

The bells rang signaling Sext, the midday canonical hour said after the Angelus at Our Lady of Hope.

“If you’re still out here after prayers, I’ll send you a plate,” Sister Bernarda said.

Sister Agatha thanked her and watched as she went back inside. The largest meal of the day was lunch. She was usually hungry by then, as she was now, since breakfast and collation—dinner—were extremely light.

Alone with what their enemy had left, Sister Agatha prayed for all the sisters. What if Sister Gertrude, with her weak heart, had found this? Grateful that things had worked out the way they had, she gave thanks to the Lord.

Sister Jo came out to meet her a short time later with a plate of food. “This is what the people in our Good News Meal Program received today. Sister Bernarda and I made the deliveries. The butternut squash soup is especially good. Why don’t you sit over there in the shade while you eat, Sister Agatha? I’ll stay and keep an eye on things for you.”

Sister Agatha thanked her, then went to sit in the shade of a tall cottonwood while she ate. Just as Sister Jo had said, the soup in particular was very tasty. As she finished her lunch, she heard a vehicle and saw the sheriff pull up.

Tom hurried over to meet them, studied the box and the bird, then gauged the trajectory by raising himself to the top of the wall for a quick look. Finally he came back to join Sister Agatha. “What bothers me most is that I’ve got a deputy keeping an eye on this place, yet the perp still managed to deliver this package.”

Sister Agatha knew that tone of voice. The deputy would have a lot of explaining to do. “To be fair, the officer was ordered to watch the monastery, not the vineyard next door. Even walking the perimeter, with the high wall, he can’t see more than two sides at a time, and that’s only at the corners.”

“I know the wall is too high to see over, but did you notice anyone in the parking area or around the gates?”

Sister Agatha shook her head, as did Sister Jo.

Tom began taking photos of the box, the dead crow, and the general area with a small digital camera.

“Who’s on duty this morning?” Sister Agatha asked him.

“Officer Bennett. Originally, I’d planned to keep him on desk duty for a while longer, but with the murder investigation, I’m low on deputies.”

“Why didn’t you want him out in the field? I know his family’s in mourning, but he wasn’t close to Jane.”

“I’m worried about the pressure he’s under and how he’ll deal with it.”

“Pressure? What do you mean?”

“When a crime’s committed that involves a member of a police officer’s family, relatives always turn to that officer for answers. Gerry, who’s a pain in the butt on a good day, has been pushing everyone in the department for details of the investigation.”

“I should have told you that when I spoke to him yesterday, he asked me to pass along any information I managed to get,” she said.

“Sounds like Gerry. What did you tell him?”

“Nothing at all, actually.”

“Well, watching the monastery is as close as he’s going to get to investigating his mother-in-law’s murder.”

As they approached Bennett’s patrol car, Sister Agatha glanced at Tom. “Before you come down too heavy on Gerry, keep in mind that it’s likely he was being watched today, too. The person who served up the dead crow undoubtedly made sure Gerry was going to be somewhere else when he made his move.”

“You’re defending him?” Tom asked, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“No, just pointing out the facts—he was played like the rest of us.”

When Deputy Bennett came over to meet them, Tom told him what had happened, fire in his eyes.

Bennett was quick to defend himself. “Sheriff, I’ve been here
all
morning. No one went past me unnoticed. I also made the quarter-hour foot patrols. But I can’t be everywhere at once. It takes me five minutes, give or take, just to walk the perimeter.”

“Who came to visit the monastery this morning?” Sheriff Green asked him.

“After Sister Agatha left on the Harley with the dog, a woman visitor drove through the gates and went to the parlor. She stayed for fifteen minutes, then left. Around then, two nuns drove out in the station wagon with a load of food containers, then returned about an hour and a half later. Sister Agatha arrived shortly afterward. Nothing else happened within my view.”

“Someone was able to get close enough to throw that box over the wall,” Tom argued.

“When did that go down?” Bennett asked, sounding even more defensive now.

“Right before noon,” Sister Agatha said.

He considered it briefly, then answered. “They had a crew of laborers at the vineyard most of the morning. I saw them tending the irrigation lines when I went around that side of the property. Any one of them could have tossed the box over the wall.”

“Give us a moment, Sister Agatha,” Tom said, then stepped away with Gerry.

Although she couldn’t hear them, she saw Tom use his radio, and within a few minutes another sheriff’s department vehicle drove up. Shortly afterward, Gerry drove away.

Tom exchanged a few words with the new arrival, then came back to join her. “Officer Bennett’s got court this afternoon, so I decided to get his replacement over here now. You may have met her already. Deputy Laura Sims used to serve with the Baton Rouge Police Department before she relocated to New Mexico.”

“Let me go say hello,” Sister Agatha said. She had come across Deputy Sims during an investigation last year.