Thief in Retreat

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  Sister Agatha heard more than her words. The novel had taken a piece of Charlee’s heart. Charlee’s vulnerability was mirrored in her eyes.

  “Well all help you look for it,” Sister Agatha said, looking first at Tom, who nodded, then at Sheriff Barela, who did the same.

  “We’ll conduct a quick search tonight, if everyone’s willing,” Sister Agatha said, trying to keep the peace. “If it doesn’t turn up, I’ll find Juanita’s journal and read it after my morning prayers. Maybe there’s a clue in there about the type of hiding places she favored when she was still on this plane,”

  “I’d like to read it, too, when you’re done,” Tim said.

  Sister Agatha looked at Virginia, who nodded. “I’ll let you know when I’ve finished with it.”

  The two sheriffs organized the search for the manuscript, dividing the public areas of The Retreat more or less equally among the groups and the housekeeping staff. As everyone set out, no one really expected the search to take long. An eight-hundred-page manuscript, sandwiched in a large folder and held together by big rubber bands, would be as thick as a dictionary or two phone books.

  Although they did their best, at the end of an hour’s search everyone returned to the great room empty-handed. No one had found any trace of the manuscript.

  “Maybe the ghost took it to the other world with her,” Teresa said dejectedly.

  “Would that be heaven, or hell?“ Vera mumbled, then smiled when Charlee looked at her strangely.

  “Charlee should ask Juanita for a promotional blurb to put on the jacket,” Tim joked. “That should be worth something to the future publisher—not to mention The Enquirer.”

  “It’s getting late,” Ginny said. “Let’s give Juanita tonight to read it. Who knows? We may just find it on a table somewhere tomorrow morning, along with a review.”

  “I can see why Those Up There wanted this manuscript,” Vera said softly, so only Sister Agatha could hear. “They’ve got eternity to read it. Heaven knows it would probably take that long.”

  “Even if you don’t find it, Charlee, it won’t be the end of the world,” Bob said. “Surely you have another copy.”

  “Yes, but it’s not copyrighted,” Charlee said. “What if someone passes it off as their own? I’d never be able to prove it was really mine.”

  “Let’s look at what’s happened logically, like we’re sifting through the evidence after surveying a crime scene,” Tom said. “Did anyone see Juanita lurking about or notice the scent of lilacs?“

  “I did,” Eva from Housekeeping said. “When 1 was upstairs turning down the beds while the guests were at dinner, I heard footsteps. I glanced down the hall and saw the tip of a long dark dress and caught a whiff of lilac scent just as someone turned the corner.”

  “Wait. You heard her walking?“ Sister Agatha asked and smiled. “I have difficulty believing a real ghost would have audible footsteps.”

  “Good point,” Tom said.

  “Unless she’s a poltergeist, remember?“ Dominic added.

  Ernie stood up and interrupted the speculation. “I appreciate everyone’s help tonight in trying to help Miss Lane, but it’s getting late. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to close things up for the night, then I’m going to get some sleep. I recommend everyone else do the same. It’s been a long day and we all have busy schedules tomorrow.”

  Understanding that Ernie probably wanted the speculations to stop before any of the guests came up with theories that might damage the reputation of The Retreat—or lead to the discovery that the artwork had been stolen—Sister Agatha also excused herself, hoping to encourage the others to call it a night. As she walked away, she glanced behind her and saw that most of the searchers were following her lead and saying good night. Sister Agatha started to go back to the library, but then changed her mind and, after telling Ginny to leave the side door open, went outside to pray under the mantle of stars. It was long after Compline at the monastery, but she wanted to bring the focus of her thoughts back to God by saying the last prayers of the day out here.

  Tonight, as the voices of the night insects rose in song, she lifted her heart to God. “Lord, fill this night with your radiance,” she began, praying softly but aloud. Many miles separated her from her sisters at the monastery, but the spirit of God was everywhere—with them, and here with her, comforting and leading her footsteps.

  When she reached the library, she found Tom and Ernesto Luna waiting. Pax was sitting beside Tom, having his ears scratched.

  “I didn’t realize you both wanted to see me tonight,” she said, going over to pat the dog on the head.

  “We didn’t mind waiting,” Ernie said. “I wanted to give you the courtyard key I promised,” he said, handing it to her.

  “Thank you.”

  “I also wanted to ask you a favor, Sister. I’ve thought about this and I think we should all encourage speculation about the ghost. As long as everyone stays focused on her, the three of us will have an easier time trying to solve the real thefts without tipping off the thief.”

  Tom gave Ernie a somber look. “Sheriff Barela is one hundred percent certain that Professor Lockhart was carjacked, so he’s not interested in pursuing other leads right now. But that won’t last forever.”

  “Secrets seldom stay secret,” Sister Agatha said. “The best we can do is play for time.”

  The next morning, after taking Pax for a walk, Sister Agatha started her work in the library. She hadn’t been able to find Juanita’s journal. It hadn’t been in the drawer where Ginny had told her to look. Since the guests were in their workshops, she decided instead to make some headway cataloging the crates before she got back to her investigation.

  The hours passed like minutes. Mrs. Mora came by with a sandwich and iced tea just after one. Then, taking a short break, she tried to find Bill.

  The handyman was posing a bit of a problem. Since the morning she’d found him in the workshop making the birdhouses, she hadn’t seen him around. She didn’t think he was avoiding her, but she had every intention of catching up to him one way or another.

  She spent the next several hours working on the crates. Finally, in need of a break, she sat down and read the monk’s journal. Perhaps she’d find some mention of Juanita in there somewhere.

  As she read, she became aware that the room had grown uncomfortably warm, despite the open doorway leading to the courtyard. The passageway was now occupied by Pax, who was sprawled on the brick floor, panting noisily. Sister Agatha opened the window across the room, then propped the door to the hall open as well. A gentle breeze soon came through, cooling the large room immediately.

  It was nearly sunset when Carmen appeared on the window ledge, looked around for a moment, then jumped down onto the floor. Pax immediately rose to his feet.

  Sister Agatha gave Pax a hard look. “Pax, don’t you dare disappoint me.”

  Pax continued to stare at the cat and Carmen looked at him with her normal disdain, then jumped up onto the bookcase, ignoring him.

  “You’re both God’s creatures and 1 want you two to remember that. No nonsense from either of you—hear?“

  Hearing laughter from the doorway, she turned around and saw Tom and Gloria standing in the hall. “We came to tell you that it’s nearly time for dinner, in case you forgot,” Gloria said. “We had no idea we’d run into Dr. Doolittle.”

  Sister Agatha smiled sheepishly. “They know what I mean.” When she glanced back at the animals, she saw that Pax was lying down again near the courtyard door, his head between his paws, while Carmen calmly washed her face on a bookshelf nearby. “There now, see? They know how they’re supposed to behave.”

  Apparently seeing Ginny farther down the hall, Gloria called out. “Tom, I need to talk to her,” she said quickly. “1*11 catch up to you in the dining room. Bye.”

  “Is there anything new on Sheriff Barela’s case?“ Sister Agatha asked Tom as soon as Gloria was out of hearing range.

  “Nothing. I de
cided to drive to the spot on the highway where Lockhart’s car was found and take a look around myself. Nothing. After that, I stopped by the impound yard in Las Vegas and took a look at Lockhart’s vehicle. It wasn’t damaged, so he wasn’t forced off the road. Barela told me that twice in the past six months someone’s been lured off the road, then kidnapped and robbed. The kidnappers take the victim someplace where he or she will have a long walk back and that’s how they buy themselves time to make a clean getaway. Barela believes that’s exactly what happened to Lockhart, and that he’ll turn up soon.”

  “Were any dogs brought in to check the crime scene in case Lockhart took off on foot before the kidnappers could grab him?“

  “Don’t think so. Barela is sure Lockhart was forced into another vehicle. There was an extra set of tire prints beside the abandoned car and, according to him, no footprints leading away. Thinking of taking Pax for a look?“

  “Actually, yes. He’s not a tracking dog, of course, but his nose is still an excellent tool and might tell us something Barela missed. Besides, I was hoping to get away for a while anyway, just to clear my head,” Sister Agatha replied.

  “Just be careful, and get back before dark,” Tom advised.

  “Yes, mother,” she joked, then looked at the dog and said his favorite words. “Pax, road trip.”

  Ten minutes later, Sister Agatha was on the main highway, heading in the direction of Las Vegas, New Mexico. Tom had described the location, which would probably be easy to find because it was also within sight of a mile marker.

  Soon she noticed a small, grassy clearing, and an irrigation ditch that was more like a stream. Spotting tire tracks beside the highway, she slowed and came to a stop on the gravel shoulder. No cars were coming in either direction, and with the forested hills all around, there were no people or buildings visible.

  Sister Agatha studied the side of the road where, now, at least three vehicles had pulled off and parked. Then, with Pax on a leash, she walked him along the ditch, hoping he’d pick up a scent the humans had missed.

  The water barrier was wide enough to jump, but anyone landing on the far side would have made imprints in the soft earth. At least two hundred yards from where the cars had been parked, there was a big culvert where the ditch went under the road, coming out on the opposite side and continuing on toward some fields farther down the road.

  She quickly examined the rusting metal grate that screened the water flow, keeping debris from clogging the culvert beneath the highway. The grate was held in position by two vertical metal rails, and slipped out with a pull on the handle someone had conveniently welded in place.

  Pax was sniffing the ground curiously now, and she noticed some indistinct tracks, and what looked like a patch of rust on the asphalt. Someone had recently removed the screen, then put it back, leaving some rusty powder behind.

  The water level around the culvert seemed a bit high, almost to the top of the circular corrugated metal, and she could see that some of the grassy plants that invariably grew along the banks of the ditch were below the water level. Maybe it was because the flow was higher than usual, or perhaps something was impeding the flow of water beneath the road.

  She glanced across the highway and noticed the metal frames that supported a grate at that end of the culvert. They were probably there to discourage children or animals from going into the culvert when the water was low. Her stomach sank when it occurred to her that this would be a good place to dump a body in a hurry. Trapped between the screens below the highway in the culvert, it might not be discovered until next spring....

  Sister Agatha looked back up the road where the Harley was parked. Barela and Tom hadn’t gone this far looking for Professor Lockhart, obviously, or they would have taken a look themselves.

  Keeping Pax on a close lead, she started across the highway. Pax’s ears went up immediately, and he was straining at the leash before they reached the other side. Even before she saw the distorted face pressed against the wire beneath a foot of water, the smell hit her like a wave.

  8

  SISTER AGATHA WAS SEATED WITH TOM AND ERNIE AT the dinner table. Ginny and Gloria had decided to join the other guests who’d chosen to eat outside since the temperature was so pleasant tonight.

  At their table, everyone kept their voices low so as to not be overheard by the other guests. “Why didn?t Sheriff Barela want you to tell anyone about finding the body?“ Ernie asked.

  “He said he wanted a chance to notify the next of kin. Actually, he didn’t tell me not to mention finding the body—just not to disclose the victim’s identity. But because of the possible connection to the thefts, I thought both of you should know right away.”

  “I would have done the same if this had happened on my beat,” Tom said, then looked directly at Ernie. “I think the time’s come for you to give him all the information about the thefts here. It establishes possible motive.”

  “He’s probably going to be angry with me when he finds out what the victim was doing here just before he was killed,” Ernie said. “But what if Sheriff Barela’s original idea was right and it was a bungled robbery/carjacking? It might not have anything to do with Lockhart’s visit here.”

  “I don’t believe in coincidences, Ernie,” Tom said. “Barela has to know about the thefts. But if you prefer, 1 can talk to him.”

  “No, I’ll do it. I’ll call him right now,” Ernie answered. “I’ll ex-plain that when the professor came over to examine the museum’s property he began to suspect that some of the pieces might be replicas, not originals. He was going to check into that, since he wasn’t sure. But that also brought up the possibility that sometime in the past a thief had targeted the collection. How does that sound? Enough information?“

  Tom nodded, and looked at Sister Agatha. “Yes, and that should give us a little more time to investigate without scaring off the thief and losing the church’s property,” Sister Agatha said.

  After dinner, as the guests mingled in the great room, Sister Agatha took Ernie aside. They needed to stay one step ahead of the thief, particularly if the burglar had turned murderer, as the circumstantial evidence seemed to suggest. “Based on historical or monetary value, which pieces of art here at The Retreat are likely to be most sought after by a thief? Can you show them to me?“

  He took her into the front lobby, where there were several objects on display. “Do you know much about art, Sister?“

  “It’s short for Arthur, isn’t it?“ she teased weakly. “I took music appreciation in college, sorry.”

  “Okay, then let me give you a quick lesson. That panel was once part of an altar screen,” he said, pointing to a retablo with a figure of St. Agnes and a highly ornate background. “That style was particularly popular in the early 1900s. The bulto of the Blessed Virgin beside it was carved from a single piece of wood.”

  Ernie then led her to a nicho in the hall near the library and called her attention to a painting of St. Francis done on hide. “This is far more elaborate than most other hide paintings that were done in the early eighteenth century. That alone makes it valuable to collectors.”

  They walked though a network of short hallways and arrived at the chapel. Inside, against one wall, was a multimedia expression of a traditional image of the Virgin. “This piece was a donation to the monastery. It was done by a well-known local artist, an accomplished tinsmith as well as a santera and colcha embroiderer. Notice how the embroidery is set in the tinwork, and frames the painting of the Blessed Mother. It’s not old, mid—nineteen hundreds, but it’s another fine piece of work.”

  Last they walked back outside, and he showed her a piece in a nicho not far from the empty display case where the bulto of Our Lady of Sorrows had been kept.

  “This is St. Colette, who reformed the Order of the Poor Clares. It’s a retablo that was made using water-soluble paints on layers of gesso, plaster of Paris, that’s placed over the wood.” He took a deep breath. “That’s it. Those are the ones I’d
go after if I were a thief looking to make a profit. But it’s just a guess. There’s no way of predicting what the thief will do next, considering his, or her, track record so far. The thief may just fade away now that Lock-hart’s body was discovered and the heat’s on officially.”

  “You’re assuming that the thief is involved with the professor’s death, but we don’t know that yet. We need to look at opportunity, not just motive. Besides you and your wife, who has access to all the rooms in The Retreat?“

  “Mrs. Mora, the head housekeeper, and Dinah Leoni, the manager of our night staff.”

  “Anyone else?“ she pressed.

  “Bill Miller, the handyman.”

  “I didn’t see him at dinner tonight,” she commented, thinking back over the people she had seen.

  Ernie shrugged. “He doesn’t always come. He only joins us for dinner when I specifically ask him to, usually when we have a new batch of arrivals I’d like him to get to know and vice versa. Most of the time, Dinah or one of the kitchen helpers takes him a tray.”

  Thanking Ernie for his help, and encouraging him to go back to his guests, Sister Agatha headed for the kitchen. She hoped to learn something useful from the night staff.

  As Sister Agatha entered the kitchen, everyone grew silent. A young Hispanic man came up and introduced himself. “I’m Carlos Sanchez, Sister,” he said. “I was your waiter tonight. Can I help you with something?“

  “Actually, I came in wanting to help with the cleanup. At the monastery I’m used to doing dishes and whatever needs to be done after a meal. Just sitting around letting others do the work doesn’t feel right, you know?“

  A middle—aged, dark—haired, portly woman who had just turned on the large dishwasher looked over at her quizzically. “My name’s Dinah Leoni. I’m in charge of the night staff. Did I hear you right, Sister? You want to work?“

  Seeing Sister Agatha nod, she added, “It’s refreshing to see someone around here who appreciates the value of good, honest labor.” She shot a hard look at Carlos, then at the petite blonde mopping the kitchen floor.