Bad Samaritan by Aimée Thurlo

actually heard her laughing with some of the other art students yesterday in the hall.”
    Sister Agatha’s opinion of Cruzer suddenly went up several notches. Even cruising through life, the man was doing God’s work.
    â€œThose cinnamon rolls sure look good,” Chuck said and sighed wistfully, seeing the half-full box on an unoccupied desk.
    Tina laughed. “You’re as subtle as a freight train, Chuck.”She picked up the box and brought it over to Sister Agatha. “You get first choice, Sister. I baked them earlier this morning for the staff, but as usual I made way too much.”
    â€œThank you,” Sister Agatha said, picking up a roll.
    â€œYou’re very welcome,” Tina said, then held out the box for Chuck, who promptly took two.
    â€œI need to make copies in the other room,” she said. “Enjoy!”
    Although there were no class bells, it wasn’t long before children’s voices filled the outside hall and people began to pass by.
    â€œSee him?” Sister Agatha asked, joining Chuck at the doorway.
    â€œThere he is. He’s got thin red hair and is wearing a tie-dyed shirt. And there he goes. I think he saw your habit.” Chuck hurried out into the hall. “I’m going after him. Go out the door we came in and circle around the building, toward the west side—where the employees park. If we’re lucky, we’ll catch him between us.”
    Sister Agatha hurried out, Pax at her side, then headed west. Just as she reached the corner, she saw a man fitting Chuck’s description of Cruzer coming down the sidewalk.
    Cruzer stopped in midstride and stared at her in surprise.
    â€œHello. You must be Cruzer,” she said pleasantly. “I’m Sister Agatha from Our Lady of Hope Monastery.”
    â€œNuns . . . I should have known I couldn’t ditch you,” he muttered with a scowl. “You guys have always been able to read my mind. Ever since high school. Spooky—real spooky. Is this about that donation I was going to make for Father Rick’s chapel project? Things are really tight for me this month—”
    Sister Agatha held up one hand. “That’s strictly between you and Father Rick.”
    â€œOh, good,” he said, visibly relieved.
    Seeing Chuck come out the front door, Sister Agatha waved at him.
    â€œYo, Cruzer,” Chuck said, joining them.
    â€œHey,” he muttered as the two greeted each other with fist bumps. “You with Sister A?”
    â€œYeah, she’s the one I told you about, remember? The ex-journalist. Sister Agatha basically saved my life a few years back when I got into trouble with the wrong people.”
    â€œI’m impressed. Good for you, Sister A. So what’s going down?” he asked, looking back at Chuck.
    â€œWe just wanted to ask you a few questions about stuff you might have seen on the Fourth,” Chuck said.
    He rolled his eyes. “Here we go. This is about the hot dogs again, isn’t it?” he asked, looking at Chuck, then back at Sister Agatha.
    â€œHot dogs?” Sister Agatha asked, more curious than ever. “What do you mean?”
    â€œThe deputies and that state cop have been questioning everyone who worked the booths on the Fourth. If I’d known that Mayor Garcia and his bean counters were going to have their eye on every bleeping hot dog . . .” He looked at the ground and shook his head.
    â€œWhat exactly have they been asking you?” Sister Agatha pressed, keeping her voice as casual as possible.
    â€œThey want to know who ordered hot dogs, who was watching the condiments, and if we saw anyone tampering with the food, or maybe just hanging around. Like that.” He graced them with a martyred sigh. “So okay. Call the law. I confess. I gave a few hot dogs away. Scout, that homeless guy who hangs around, kept looking at people stuffing their faces, then going back to the trash