MARQUEZ PAID FOR THE SANDWICH HE’D SELECTED, then left in the black-and-white state police unit. A second later, Smitty joined her at the door.
“You don’t look happy,” he commented.
“I’m afraid for Tom,” she admitted. “The Garcia family wants someone to hang for this, and Tom’s the obvious target.”
“You didn’t tell Marquez about Scout, did you?”
Sister Agatha looked at him and blinked. “No, we never got around to that. At this point, I’m not even sure Scout saw anything. If I find out differently, of course I’ll pass it on.”
Smitty nodded, but before he could answer, a tall, stylishly dressed brunette wearing an overload of fine Zuni-style turquoise and silver jewelry approached them.
“You’re Sister Agatha, right?” she asked, glaring though yellow-tinted designer glasses.
Sister Agatha nodded. “Yes, can I help you?”
“I’m Elena Mora, a friend of Victoria Garcia’s, and I just wanted to say shame on you, Sister! People trust you because of the habit you wear and what you represent. By helping the guilty, you’re not only undermining law enforcement in our community, you’re siding with the devil.”
“You’re badly misinformed, ma’am. I’m searching for the truth and taking care not to condemn anyone on circumstantial evidence alone. Nobody but Our Lord knows what really happened last night—not me, and certainly not you.”
“Putting a different spin on the facts isn’t going to excuse the sheriff for what he did, Sister.”
“Are you really so sure that he’s guilty? Unless you were an eyewitness, you should wait for the facts before you judge—and condemn.”
“You’re the one who refuses to see what’s right there in front of your face,” she said. “Also, Sister, there’s something you might want to keep in mind before you muddy the waters. Your monastery depends on donations to get by, and the people in this town want to see justice—not watch a killer set free.”
“Then we’re in agreement. I want to find a killer, too, and that can’t be done with a closed mind.”
“Sheriff Green is the killer. Wake up, Sister.”
As the woman walked away, Smitty gave Sister Agatha a worried frown. “You’re going to have to be careful, Sister. A lot of people are indebted to the Garcias in one way or another. That includes me, too, by the way.”
“You?”
“Yeah, I got into a financial bind a few years ago, and thanks to JD’s character reference I was able to get a loan.”
“I’m glad he helped you—but the mayor’s not my enemy, Smitty. If anyone deserves to learn the truth about how Robert died, it’s his family.” She paused and took a breath. “Believe me, I’m going to find the answers even if I have to pursue this case twenty-four hours a day.”
Smitty’s eyes narrowed. “That hurry you’re in . . . it’s not just the murder, is it? I’ve had the feeling that there’s something you’re not telling me. You and Sister Bernarda haven’t been your usual cheerful selves lately, and your shopping habits have changed, too. What’s going on? If I can help, all you have to do is ask.”
“We’re trying to work out some problems at home, that’s all,” she said vaguely. “As soon as I can, I’ll tell you all about it.”
Eager to avoid more questions, Sister Agatha went to meet Sister Bernarda, who’d already gone outside and was standing on the sidewalk.
“Come on. Let’s go,” Sister Agatha said, walking quickly back to the car.
“What’s your hurry?” Sister Bernarda asked.
Sister Agatha filled her in as soon as they got under way.
Sister Bernarda exhaled loudly. “It’s hard to hide what’s never far from our minds.”
Sister Agatha nodded. “Speaking of our move, why don’t we stop at the Ship and Mail Store on the way home? The manager offered us some sturdy boxes when I mentioned that we were in the middle of packing away some office supplies.”
“We can use whatever she has to spare,” Sister Bernarda said with a nod.
“Our computers will need to be double boxed in order to make the move to Agnus Dei safely,” Sister Agatha said. “That statue of the Blessed Mother in Reverend Mother’s office, too, will need special handling.”
“I think most of our statues will probably end up in St. Augustine’s chapel here in town. It looks like Father Mahoney is going to get the funds for the renovation he wanted.”
“Where did you hear that?” Sister Agatha said.
“At the mayor’s house. His wife said that the Garcias intend to make a big donation so the chapel can become a permanent memorial to Robert—bronze plaque and everything.”
“That family’s reach extends far and wide, doesn’t it?” Sister Agatha asked, not expecting an answer.
Bernalillo was a small town, so it took less than five minutes for them to reach the Ship and Mail right across from city hall. The second they walked inside, Sister Agatha felt the change in the air. Conversations stopped abruptly, people stared for a moment, then voices began again, hushed, like people talking in the back row of church.
Sister Agatha spotted Kris Anderson, the owner, behind the register. The redhead’s usual friendly smile was missing today.
“Good afternoon, Kris!” Sister Agatha said brightly. “We came to pick up those boxes you set aside for us.”
“Sister Agatha, I’m sorry, but we had to recycle every last one of them. We can’t help you,” she said in a monotone.
Kris glanced quickly at a man standing at the counter several feet away. Sister Agatha followed her gaze and saw Monty Allen, Robert Garcia’s business partner, attaching a label to a carton.
A moment later, Allen brought the box over and set it in front of Kris. “It’s ready to go,” he said. Giving Sisters Agatha and Bernarda an excessively polite nod, he headed out the door.
The second Allen left, the atmosphere in the room changed. Almost as if a collective sigh of relief had gone around, voices suddenly rose, and Kris flashed Sister Agatha a smile.
“I’m really sorry about being so abrupt, Sister. With Monty here, I couldn’t afford to look too friendly.”
“It’s okay,” Sister Agatha assured her. “I understand. Any friend of Sheriff Green’s is the enemy right now.”
“Unfortunately, yes—and the last person I want to cross right now is the man the Garcias are thinking of supporting in the race for sheriff. He’ll be a write-in candidate, of course.”
“When was all that decided?” Sister Agatha asked, surprised.
“My sister works at the mayor’s office. She overheard Al Russo reminding JD that if Sheriff Green managed to avoid being charged with a crime, he was now unopposed and guaranteed four more years in office. JD went ballistic and called Monty Allen. The man has the qualifications, apparently. He served with the Albuquerque Police Department for twenty years, the last ten as a detective.”
“Do you think there are many people out there who still believe Sheriff Green is innocent?”
“Yeah, I do, but the Garcias make a lot more noise.”
“Now that the coast is clear, do you think you can find any of those boxes for us?” Sister Bernarda asked.
Kris smiled and nodded. “Sure. Just go out back to the loading dock. They’re there against the wall, folded, stacked, and tied together with twine.”
Sister Bernarda and Sister Agatha drove the Antichrysler to the back loading dock and saw Kris’s teenaged daughter, Jaime, waiting at the door.
While they worked getting the boxes into the back of the large station wagon, Jaime didn’t say a word. Sister Agatha wondered about it, but trying to load all the boxes became quite a chore. It wasn’t until Sister Agatha went up the steps one last time to ask Jaime to thank her mother that the girl finally spoke.
“We depend on this city’s business to stay open, Sister Agatha. Please don’t put my mom on the spot again by asking for help. Okay?” Without waiting for an answer, Jaime closed the door behind her.
“Sister Agatha, you need to see this,” Sister Bernarda said. “Can you come over?”
Sister Agatha joined her by the driver’s side door. “What’s wrong?”
“This was on the seat,” she said, handing Sister Agatha a scribbled note that read, Answers come at a price.
“Exactly what do you think that means?” Sister Bernarda asked. “Are they telling us to stop asking questions, or offering to sell answers to us?”
“I’m not sure,” Sister Agatha answered.
“Should we stop by the sheriff’s department and turn it in?”
Sister Agatha considered it, then shook her head. “No, there’s no direct threat involved, and right now they’ve got their hands full. Let’s hang on to it, though.”
“All right, then. Let’s go home.”
“Excellent idea,” Sister Agatha answered.
Long after the Great Silence had begun, Sister Agatha sat alone at one of the few computers that hadn’t been packed away. With so much going on, she hadn’t even bothered to check e-mail. Despite the long list of ads that still managed to slip past their antispam software, one e-mail caught her immediate attention. It was from State Police Detective Frank Marquez.
As she opened it, Sister Bernarda came into the scriptorium wordlessly. Sister Agatha nodded to her, turned her attention to the letter, and gasped. Instantly, Sister Bernarda came over and began reading over her shoulder.
Frank’s letter—what he was calling a “courtesy” to Kevin’s sister—let her know that news that Tom’s hand had tested positive for gunpowder residue had been leaked to the press.
Sister Agatha considered it in silence. Either someone at the sheriff’s department couldn’t be trusted, or the information had come from the killer himself.
She sat back. The person who’d framed Tom knew about forensics, so it was likely that he also knew the damage that leaking incriminating information could do. The frame was on, and Tom was being tried in the courts of public opinion.
Sister Agatha fought to keep her spirits up. Maybe Tom’s blood had been tested by now. If he’d been drugged, as they suspected, those positive test results would add credence to his own explanation—that of a third person at the scene. That extra footprint and confirmation of a knockout drug in his system would mean that there were at least two irrefutable facts in his favor.
One question, however, continued to gnaw at her. Would she be able to prove his innocence before it was time for her to leave New Mexico?
As if sensing her thoughts, Sister Bernarda pointed to the quote from Matthew that had been embroidered on white linen, framed, and hung on the wall. With God all things are possible.
Drawing strength from the words of the apostle, she walked out of the scriptorium and, in silence, followed Sister Bernarda to the chapel. The moment she stepped inside, she saw all the remaining sisters there, kneeling in silent prayer. Brides of Christ, they instinctively reached out to Him in times of trouble, placing their cares in their lover’s gentle hands.
Early the next morning, after Morning Prayers and Terce, Pax and Sister Agatha set out to town. Feeling strengthened by the power of prayer, she was ready to tackle the day’s challenges.
Twenty minutes later Sister Agatha arrived at the station. As they went inside, Pax headed directly to the bullpen. Seconds afterward, he graciously accepted his first doughnut piece of the day.
Seeing he was in good hands, Sister Agatha smiled and continued down the hall. As she turned the corner, she saw Tom standing there, shaking hands with one of the lieutenants.
Sister Agatha smiled broadly. “You’ve been released!”
He gave her a weary nod. “Yes, but there’s a lot of work to be done before I can put all this behind me and get back to being sheriff again.”
Millie, who’d come out of her own office, gestured for them to come inside, then closed the door behind them. Glancing at Sister Agatha, she said, “The approval for the tests came through, and the lab confirmed that the sheriff had been drugged with benzodiazepine, what they call a date-rape type of drug. It’s pretty fast acting, and that explains why he passed out and why he can’t remember things too clearly. It also supports the sheriff’s claim that Robert never attacked him—that the blow to his head came after he was out cold.”
“Like we figured, I was struck on the head to explain away my unconsciousness. It was supposed to mislead the detectives long enough to reduce the chances of my being tested and having the drug detected,” Tom said.
“How was the drug administered, do they know?” Sister Agatha asked, looking at both of them.
“It was in the hot dog relish,” Millie said. “We tested the residue from a napkin the sheriff had wadded up and stuck in his pocket.”
“So it’s now downhill from here?” Sister Agatha asked, looking at Tom. “You’ll be in charge of the case again soon?”
“No,” Tom answered. “Some people, including the DA, are suggesting that I purposely ingested the drug after the crime so I’d have an alibi.”
“What about the blow to your head? That would have served as an alibi, too,” Sister Agatha said, “and it would have made taking the drug unnecessary. How do they explain that?”
“They don’t even try. My attorney plans on making an appeal, but until that happens, I’m on paid suspension. I’m also forbidden to contact anyone who might be connected to the case, including my fellow officers.” He glanced at Millie. “Thanks for everything, but I better get out of here before Captain Chavez shows up and wonders what we’ve been talking about.”
“Tom, didn’t you say earlier that Robert had handed you the hot dog?” Sister Agatha asked as they reached the door. Seeing him nod, she glanced at Millie. “So, was Robert drugged, too?”
“They did a tox screen on him, but the victim usually has a whole battery of tests, and some of those take days to complete. Only the sheriff’s results are back from the lab,” Millie answered. “Initial results on Robert’s lab work may be in by the end of today.”
“Thankfully, the judge saw all the inconsistencies in the case against me. That’s why I’m out now,” Tom said.
“What we have to do next is find out who added the contaminated relish to your hot dog,” Sister Agatha said, glancing at Tom. She then turned to Millie. “Have you heard if anyone else was drugged that evening? I imagine you would have known by now if anyone else at the park had passed out, right?”
“If anyone else did, nobody’s reported it. To me that suggests that only the sheriff was targeted—” A knock sounded just as she placed her hand on the knob. Millie opened it and stepped back as Frank Marquez came striding in.
He took them all in at a glance, then fastened his laser-sharp gaze on Millie. “The sheriff no longer has any jurisdiction over the Garcia murder case. I’d hate to find out that you’ve been sharing privileged information.”
“I’ve just informed Sister Agatha that Sheriff Green is currently on suspension,” Millie said.
It was only a fraction of the truth, and they all knew it. Sister Agatha looked back at Frank. “I also wanted to assure Millie that I’d be passing on any information I uncover.”
“Sister Agatha can be an asset,” Tom added. “Her special talents will speed your case along.”
“Asset or not, you’d be better off staying out of this, Sister,” Frank said, meeting her gaze. “A person who commits murder has already shown what he’s capable of, and your habit won’t give you much protection.”
As Marquez left the room, Sister Agatha glanced at Tom. “Walk me out?”
“Sure,” he answered.
As soon as they were in the parking area, Tom bent down to pet Pax. “What’s on your mind, Sister?”
“Have you remembered any more details about that evening—like maybe your conversation with Robert?” she asked.
“No, not really,” he answered, rubbing the back of his neck in a gesture of weariness.
“Try to visualize him for a moment,” Sister Agatha insisted. “What do you see?”
“A few extras that probably don’t mean a hill of beans,” he answered after a moment or two. “I remember his flashy silver and turquoise watch, the flag pin on his lapel—I had one, too. There was a silver pen in his front shirt pocket, along with some kind of pamphlet that stuck out. I remember it had a line of stars along the top edge—probably some campaign literature. He also had a foam cup in his hand, not that cottonwood branch I saw when I woke up later. When I started to lose my balance he jumped back, maybe afraid I was going to fall on him, and spilled some of his punch. I went out fast after that. I don’t even remember hitting the ground,” he said.
“What about your earlier conversations?”
He shrugged. “A few angry exchanges, accusations, mostly.”
Sister Agatha noticed he was having a hard time maintaining eye contact. “Tom, you’re not holding back on me, are you?” Even before she’d become a nun, Tom had never been able to look her in the eye for long when he was keeping something from her.
“Don’t worry. I know who my friends are,” he said in a reassuring tone—but his eyes wandered again.
“Which doesn’t answer the question,” she insisted, trying once again to meet his gaze. “You’re deflecting, not to mention playing with your future.”
“I didn’t do anything to Robert,” he said, this time looking directly at her, his eyes unwavering. “You know that’s true.”
“Yes, but that wasn’t my question,” she pressed.
He glanced back to the entrance, where several deputies had just stepped outside. “We’ll talk again if I remember something else. Right now, I need to find a ride home.” With a nod, he walked toward the officers.
He hadn’t asked her for a lift, and that told her all she needed. For whatever reason, there was something Tom wasn’t ready to tell her, and that spelled trouble. Glancing down at Pax, Sister Agatha smiled at her faithful friend.
“Let go pay Chuck Moody a visit, boy,” she said, climbing on the cycle.
Recognizing Chuck’s name, Pax barked happily.
“Nothing ever worries you, does it, my friend?” she said, thinking out loud. “I envy you that.”
Sister Agatha headed down the street, then turned and went up the lane that held the newspaper office. She’d find at least some of the answers she needed there.