Thief in Retreat

by Aimée; David Thurlo

  “That’s an excellent idea.”

  “But what’s really bugging me is that we haven’t told the authorities what we’re doing. The archbishop and Ernie Luna desper-ately want to avoid any publicity, and they don’t trust Sheriff Barela to keep quiet. Since Sheriff Barela is rumored to have higher ambitions than the sheriff’s position, they’re afraid he’ll have the pieces taken to the sheriff’s office, then make a big to-do about what’s been happening here—anything for a photo op, you know?“

  Whitman considered it, then nodded slowly. “They’re right. I’ve known JB all my life, and I think he’d sell out his own mother if he thought it would help his career.”

  Sister Agatha stood and met his gaze. “Thanks for taking time to talk to me. It helped. But as a friend of Ernie Luna’s and the Church, please don’t tell anyone. It’s got to stay between us until the artwork is tested.”

  “You can trust me, Sister. I won’t breathe a word.”

  Sister Agatha went back inside, managed to draw Tim Delancy off alone, and told him essentially the same story. Meanwhile, if all was going as planned, Tom would be giving Sheriff Barela another version of it, only Tom would then offer Sheriff Barela the chance to get full credit for any arrest and the opportunity to release the news of Miller’s capture as well as that of his partner to the press. Ernie and Ginny, meanwhile, were carrying out the very important task of sneaking the threatened art objects into the library—after passing by the chapel.

  Once she was done dangling her part of the bait, Sister Agatha tent out to gather what she needed to put phase two of her plan into action. As most of the guests retired for the night, and Sheriff Barela left to return to Las Vegas, Sister Agatha went to visit Ginny Luna, stopped by a closet with her to pick up a few things, then returned to the library and greeted Pax.

  “Get your rest now, boy. Soon it’ll be time for us to go to work,” she said, then settled down to her next self-appointed task. Work-ing quickly, she took the spare cloth she’d packed in one of the crates and began to fashion a surprise.

  She’d just hidden her creation away when Tom came in. He removed a tiny video camera from his jacket pocket and began to check it out. “I came across this little toy when I was in town. It’s our backup now that all the suspects have been told where we’ve hidden the remaining items stolen in that first burglary.”

  “We’re dealing with a fairly intelligent criminal so I’m sure he’ll be expecting us to stake out the chapel so we can catch him in the act,” Sister Agatha said. “His next logical assumption will be that the art is most likely hidden elsewhere—someplace safe, like the crate that’s in the library,” she said, and smiled. “But when the thief makes his move tonight, we’ll be ready.”

  “It’s a good plan,” Tom said.

  “For it to work, we’ve got to convince the thief that we’re really in the area of the chapel—while we’re actually here,” she said, reaching under the cot and bringing out her surprise. It was one of her habits, stuffed with fabric so that it resembled a person, minus the head. “I need some of your clothes now so I can make a Tom dummy, then we’ll set these up in the shadows around the chapel.”

  “Be right back.” He went quickly to his room and returned to the library several minutes later, handing some clothes to Sister Agatha.

  She stuffed his shirt with her pillow, and used more of the worn cloth from the crates to stuff the sleeves and pantlegs. Then she brought out a plastic bag holding two Halloween masks—one of Richard Nixon, the other of Bill Clinton. “Courtesy of Ginny, who apparently has a sense of humor with the inn’s holiday decor.”

  “Which one is me?“ Tom chuckled.

  “An unimpeachable source says you get to be Nixon. Besides, he’s older,” Sister Agatha said, then chuckled.

  “Politicians. What other choices did Ginny have?“

  “Frankenstein’s monster and Freddie. Not very deceptive, even in the dark. What do you expect on such short notice?“

  “Elvis?“

  19

  FIVE MINUTES LATER, THE DUMMIES WERE IN PLACE BEHIND the altar screen—where their figures were shrouded in darkness but still noticeable to a sharp eye^—and Sister Agatha and Tom were back in the library.

  Tom brought out the small video camera he’d shown her earlier. “Now that our identical twins are watching the empty trunk, we can set up the real trap here.”

  “Pax will hear someone coming long before us. With any luck, we should be able to catch the person in the act,” Sister Agatha said.

  Tom nodded. “We don’t know if the perp will try and sneak in here via the hall or through the courtyard, so I’m going to position myself behind that bookshelf and watch the outside door.” He looked at her, then the dog. “The best and safest place for you and Pax to be is on the floor behind your desk. From there you’ll have a pretty good view of the hall door, but you’re still below most people’s line of sight. I’ll place the camera on that old display case where it can cover the entire room, though it’ll be focused on the crates.”

  In less than ten minutes, they were ready. Sister Agatha moved over to the desk and called Pax. While she was attaching his leash, he sniffed at the pitcher of water. “You have enough water in your dish already.”

  Sister and Pax took their positions—Sister Agatha seated on the floor beside the desk and Pax beneath it. It was easier for the dog to stay there because he was already low to the ground. Tom walked over and turned off the library lights, locked the hall door, then concealed himself behind the shelf.

  Time dragged, but neither of them moved. Although Pax was lying down, she knew from the position of his ears that he was still alert. His eyes never closed.

  Occasionally she could hear doors somewhere down the hall open or close as someone made a visit to the bathroom or showers, but soon everything was quiet except for a cricket chirping outside the courtyard door. Most of the guests were probably asleep, or at least in bed by now.

  Suddenly there was a piercing electronic squeal from a fire alarm. The sound was enough to make Pax howl.

  “Is it a diversion?“ she called, looking toward Tom, who had come out from behind the shelf.

  He held up his hand, motioning to her that they should wait and hold their positions. Then she became aware of a faint trace of smoke in the air. The alarm, with one of the units right outside in the hall, was so loud that any attempt at normal conversation was difficult. Tom crossed over to stand beside her. “We can’t stay,” he said. “I’ve got the camera set up, and it’ll continue to record while we’re gone.”

  “Unless the thief looks around and spots it,” she said.

  “A camera’s the last thing he’s going to be looking for. He’ll be too concerned with finding the art collection. Now, let’s go,” he motioned.

  “Before we leave the building, let’s at least try to see if the smoke is from a legitimate threat or not.”

  “Agreed.” Tom stood at the hall door and felt the wood with his hand, then moved to touch the door handle. “It’s cool to the touch. I’m going to take a look.” He unlocked the door, opened it slightly, and peered out. A light cloud of smoke made the hallway look hazy.

  “There’s not much smoke. Let’s go out and see if we can tell where it’s coming from,” she insisted.

  They hurried down the hall, and soon Sister Agatha saw white smoke pouring out from one of the rooms to her right, a small janitorial closet. Leaving Pax sitting outside the doorway, she held her breath as best she could, covered her mouth and nose with her sleeve, and took a quick look inside. A large metal trash can was the source of the fire. It looked as if wadded-up paper towels and several tablecloths had been stuffed inside it and ignited.

  Tom poked his head in, saw what she’d found, then pulled her back out. They took a few steps farther down the hall and noticed smoke coming from the other end of the wing as well. “There’s another source of smoke down there somewhere. I’m going to grab a fire extinguisher, put this one out
, then go tackle the other fire. In the meantime, you and Pax leave the building.”

  As Tom ran down the hall, she started toward the lobby, then stopped to think. The library had an outside exit—through the courtyard door. If she went back there, she wouldn’t be in any real danger from the fire. She decided to return with Pax and wait. If the thief threatened her, Pax would defend her, and he was formidable when angry. All in all, it was an acceptable risk.

  Ignoring Tom’s orders—telling herself that she worked for the Church, not the police—she and Pax hurried back to the library. Since they’d left the lights off, she let Pax go in first just in case, but the library was empty.

  Once inside, she led Pax back to their position by the desk. It was brighter in the corridor now, which made it much easier to see. Somebody had apparently turned on a second set of lights because of the emergency.

  Sister Agatha waited. Less than five minutes later, Pax started to growl low. She touched the dog on the nose to quiet him, then saw a figure step into the library from the hall. He was wearing a gas mask, and seemed to know his way around.

  His height and medium build made it clear that the man wasn’t Tim Delancy. She watched as he flipped on a powerful flashlight and swept its beam quickly around the library until it came to rest on the large crate that remained. Immediately the man went to it and began taking out the items from the first burglary with unerring accuracy, though other things were in there as well. In the light from the hall, she could see that the thief was wearing a long-sleeved, dark T-shirt and jeans and didn’t appear to be armed. That fact bolstered her courage, and she stood and came out from behind the desk, Pax by her side.

  “It’s over. Put those things back,” she said calmly. “You might be able to get past me, but the dog will attack if you try it, and you’ll go down, one way or the other.”

  Almost on cue, Pax growled, a low, deep, menacing sound that made her hair stand on end. It was a sound she didn’t associate with the normally gentle animal, and one that attested to his earlier training as a police dog.

  “That’s not just your monastery’s pet, is it?“

  The man’s voice was muffled through his mask, and she could tell he was deliberately altering it as well to confuse her. She still had no idea who he was. “Pax was a police dog. His training makes him a very effective weapon.”

  The thief held out his palm, and in it was a nasty-looking device that sparked from the two posts at the end. “Do you know what this is? It’s a Taser, and it’ll shock that dog senseless. You, too, if you get in my way.” He took a step toward her, and Pax growled again.

  Sister Agatha had heard about the shock weapon, though she’d never seen one before. She wasn’t sure how it worked, but there was one thing she knew about electricity—water was a good conductor. Quickly, she picked up the pitcher of water and splashed the liquid all over the thief.

  Sister Agatha held her ground. “If you try to zap the dog, you’ll shock yourself as well now. Give it up, or 1 may just whack you on the head with the pitcher as well.”

  “I’d take her advice if I were you,” she heard a strong, familiar voice say from behind her. The library lights came on and, turning her head slightly, she saw Tom. He held his small backup pistol in one hand as he moved slowly toward the thief. “Put your shocker down, then take off your mask,” Tom ordered.

  Setting the Taser down on a dry spot, the thief removed his mask.

  For a moment, as they stood face to face with Sheriff Barela, no one spoke. Then they heard people rushing down the hallway in their direction. Tim Delancy came into the library first, holding a fire extinguisher, followed by Dominic and Bob, who were also carrying extinguishers.

  “Don’t get any closer. Sheriff“ Barela is under arrest,” Tom yelled.

  The men, who’d stopped about ten feet away, were soon joined by Teresa, who came up holding a water pitcher identical to the one still in Sister Agatha’s hand. “When we saw you hadn’t made it outside, we came to look for you. I’m glad you’re safe, Sister, and I see you grabbed some water, too. But what’s Sheriff Barela doing here?“

  “Stealing,” Tom said gruffly. “You people shouldn’t be in here. You should have gone outside when the alarm went off and stayed where it’s safe.”

  Tim shrugged. “Once we were out there, we could tell it wasn’t much of a fire, and besides, how fast can an adobe building burn? We had to try to come back in to try and save our laptop computers and manuscripts. Then we realized that no one had seen you or Sister Agatha, so we came looking.”

  “Has anyone seen Ernie?“ Tom asked, not taking his eye off Barela, whom he had turned around to face the wall.

  “He and Ginny are checking the building for more of those trash can smoke pots,” Bob piped in. “He was afraid that the volunteer fire department would take too long to get here and this place would be toast before they arrived.”

  Tom had brought along his handcuffs, and he handed them to Sister Agatha to fasten onto the sheriff’s wrists. “You have betrayed the people you serve, Sheriff Barela,” Sister Agatha said. “You’ll have a lot to answer for—to them and to God.”

  “Betrayed?“ Barela shook his head. “That may be the way you see it, but you’ve all made a big mistake. The truth is that I take my duties seriously. I came back here tonight to protect the items Tom told me about.”

  “Then why did you come here, rather than go to the chapel where I said they were?“ Tom countered.

  “And how did you happen to pick out all the pieces with the trace evidence of blood on them when Tom didn’t tell you which items were involved?“ she added.

  “What blood?“ Dominic interrupted.

  “You interrupted me before I could finish,” Barela continued, ignoring Dominic. “I was going to put all of the art in a safer place.”

  “You needed a mask for that, and a Taser? That’ll sound convincing during the trial,” Tom challenged. He quickly frisked Barela for other weapons but found none.

  “Sure I did. I saw the fire and didn’t know how bad the smoke was. And if the fire was arson, and I met the arsonist—“

  “That won’t play, not anymore, JB,” a familiar voice said from the doorway.

  Sister turned her head and saw Ernie enter the library with Bill Miller, who’d just spoken.

  Tom took a step back. “You can join your partner, Miller,” he said, motioning with his gun

  Miller raised his hands and went to stand beside Barela, facing the empty bookshelves.

  “Don’t judge him too harshly, Tom,” Ernie said. “Bill wasn’t sure whether we’d found Ginny and had the decency to come back to tell me where he’d locked her up.”

  “You could have done that with a phone call or a note, Bill, and remained free,” Sister Agatha pointed out. “There must be another reason you returned.”

  Bill nodded slowly. “I’m too old to take up hiding in neighborhood sheds and under bridges. I don’t want something like this hanging over my head for the rest of my life. I made a mistake when I was a kid, sure, and I returned what JB and I stole that Halloween. But I was always worried that someday what we did would come back to haunt us. Then, just as I was about to finally get my big break, I found out that the collection was going to be donated to the university museum. The partial fingerprints in blood I’d neglected to remove decades ago would be discovered in a heartbeat, along with the replicas. Once my fingerprints were identified, my career as an artist would be effectively over.”

  “But it wasn’t your blood on the pieces, was it? It was Bare la’s,” Sister Agatha said.

  “Yeah. Neither one of us had leather gloves, so JB used some cloth gloves then punched through the window. He got cut anyway and bled all over everything. But since I handled the pieces, it was my prints that were left, preserved in his blood.

  “Then several months ago, after he’d somehow learned about my car being repossessed, JB came up with an idea,” Miller continued. “I’d take the art, replace it with
copies, then clean up and sell the originals. It was working fine until Ernie brought in Lockhart. Once the replicas were discovered, I knew it was only a matter of time before everything came crashing down on me. Other pieces still had my fingerprints on them.”

  “What about Professor Lockhart?“ Tom asked.

  “I was as surprised as everyone else when Sister Agatha found his body. I heard Ernie mention to Ginny that Lockhart had taken some of the collection with him, and that he’d disappeared. The way I figured it, that had to have been JB’s work.”

  Bill stared at Barela, but all Barela did was shake his head. “Miller’s lying.”

  Miller shook his head. “We met at the gatehouse after that, and JB told me that unless I got the rest of the stuff out fast, the only alternative he had was to torch The Retreat and get rid of the evidence. I refused to let him do that to Ernie and Ginny—they’d done too much for me. That’s when he said that if I didn’t help him he’d make my artwork suddenly very valuable,” Miller said. “I knew then that he meant to kill me.”

  “You could have gone to the state police with your story,” Sister Agatha said.

  “Either way, my career as an artist would have been over. I couldn’t take on JB. My only chance was to fake my death, hide out, then steal the rest of the stuff. Later, cleaned up, I could make certain it got back to the hands of the Church.”

  “Nobody is going to believe this wild story, Miller. There is only one thief here, and that’s you,” Barela said.

  “No, we’re in this together, JB, just like we were years ago. And this time I’m facing up to my part in these crimes. I’m not hiding anymore. And you can’t either, now. It’s your blood on the collection.”