A Fractured Peace

by Elia Seely

  “I left them up at the monastery. Elijah knows what’s going on; Jim was still looking over the site.”

  “I’ll call up there and see what Elijah’s plan is, then get back to you about our meeting. Time is it?”

  I checked my watch. “Three forty-five.”

  “Okay, probably we’ll need to meet about six. I’ll get back to you.”

  “All right. But—Butch, Dan’s on some pain meds and he’s broken his collarbone and he’s pretty beat up. I need to stay with him tonight and maybe tomorrow, so if there’s something I can do from home that would be best for us. I’m sorry, but he’s my kid. I have to.”

  Butch was silent a moment. Well, what could I do?

  “We’ll figure it out,” he said, at last. “Be in touch.”

  We ended the call and I walked out the door and toward my waiting son. I will love you enough for both your dad and I, I silently promised him. I will do what it takes. I will.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Butch called as I was making green chili enchiladas, Dan’s favorite dinner. He asked about Dan, and then my own welfare, a testament to what a good father he’d been and continued to be for his own kids. He had been in law enforcement the whole time his daughters had been growing up, and, though he had a wife who did most of the caregiving, he knew the challenges of balancing priorities. I crunched the phone between my ear and shoulder as I assembled the enchiladas. Tiredness dragged at every muscle, but it felt good to be at home doing something for my kids. Had it really only been Saturday afternoon that I had found Choden’s body? Two days ago; it seemed like a week.

  “Elijah is here typing up witness statements from the interviews,” Butch said. I heard the creak of his old chair as he changed position. “One of the monks gave him a ride down. We need a debrief tonight. I wonder, it’s a little unorthodox, but would it be possible if we joined you at your house to have a couple of hours— hell, maybe less—to go over what we’ve got so far?”

  “Ummm … yeah, sure, of course. I mean, I will make it work. I appreciate your kindness here, Butch. I—” my throat dried and I coughed a little. My ear sweated against the phone. “I’m making enchiladas for Dan, but there should be enough for us all to have a little. Have any of you had dinner?”

  “Dinner? I’m still waiting for lunch.”

  “Maybe bring some chips, salsa? Just to fill in a little.” There wasn’t really enough for me, Butch, the kids, Elijah, Joe, Jim, and Bill, but I wanted to make the gesture. I had an aging head of iceberg lettuce in the fridge and an old bag of carrots to rehabilitate and a bottle of blue cheese dressing. Mentally I started an inventory of the pantry.

  “Don’t worry Shan. I’ll stop at Stewart’s and get a few things. We’ll make ‘er work. Say half hour? Forty-five?”

  I glanced at the clock on the stove. It was only five-thirty; plenty of time and maybe we’d all get to bed early. “Yeah, great. And Butch, thanks, thanks again.”

  I ended the call and cracked my neck. I opened a jar of green chili sauce, locally made by two old Mexican ladies, and poured it over the waiting enchiladas. A little cheese and then I placed them in the oven. It was much too hot to be baking food, but Dan was pleased, I knew, at my effort.

  After a quick tidy of the kitchen, I went down the stairs and into Dan’s lair.

  “Hey Dano,” I called, announcing my presence before I arrived at the door to his room. “How you feeling?” I leaned against the door frame. Dan sat on his bed reading a Sports Illustrated. He looked rumpled and the room smelled stale.

  “Let’s get you some fresh air,” I said, and crossed to his small egress window. I slid it open. Fresh greenness flew in on the sudden rush of air. “That’s better. You okay?”

  “Yeah. It hurts, but I don’t want to take those pills.”

  “Do they make you sick? Did Dr. Ellis give you one at the hospital?”

  “They gave me some kind of shot. It’s wearing off though. But I don’t know, I just don’t like to take stuff, you know.”

  “Well, that’s okay if you can deal with the pain—but I don’t want you to suffer too much.” I resisted the urge to reach out to him, ruffle his hair. “Maybe take just a half, or a quarter even? I could cut it for you.”

  “Nah. I will be okay, I think. I’ll let you know.” He looked at the magazine, then back at me. “Dinner?”

  “Soon,” I smiled. “So, Butch and the guys are coming over tonight, we need to talk about the investigation. That good with you?”

  Dan shrugged. “Sure. As long as they don’t eat my enchiladas.”

  I laughed, though I cringed inside. “Don’t worry. Half that pan is for you.”

  Dan gave me a distracted smile and then returned his gaze to his magazine, and I took my cue to leave. I’d check on Margo next, and then begin to assemble my own notes from the interviews. I’d need to get them typed up; maybe I could borrow a typewriter from work and do that from home tomorrow.

  On my way to Margo’s bedroom, I picked up her pink backpack, two pairs of discarded socks, a couple of Dan’s dirty t-shirts, and a trashy novel I’d last had time to look at over a week ago. Hands full, I kicked at Margo’s door gently with my foot.

  “Bear? How you doing?”

  Margo had been fairly upset at the news of Dan’s accident. Bill had called Norma, whose number he had from me as an emergency contact, after failing to get through to the monastery. It had been Norma’s suggestion that Bill call Chenno, though she had bundled Margo into the car and gone directly to the hospital herself. It was clear as soon as she got there that Dan was not critically injured, but Margo had responded strongly enough to her brother’s stoic tears and bleeding gashes that Norma felt it best to bring her back home after she’d called me and Chenno had arrived.

  “Come in,” Margo’s sing-song replied, to my second foot-tap on the door.

  I pushed open the door with my toe and entered her room, depositing the backpack on the bed.

  “Looks like Dan feels all right, though he’s sore. Are you feeling okay? Kind of a shock, huh, seeing your tough brother all beat up?” I hadn’t really had time to check-in with Margo; she’d been asleep when Dan and I had gotten home. I’d just left her to it and let Norma get off home herself after I’d thanked her about a thousand times.

  Margo played with her Barbies, holding them opposite each other making them have a conversation. “Uh huh,” she said softly, not looking at me.

  “Do you want to talk to me about it? Or him?”

  Margo shook her head, her fine brown hair falling in her face.

  I tried again. I know when my girl isn’t being honest with me. “Norma said you got kinda scared. That’s okay, that’s normal when someone we love gets hurt. I was really scared too.”

  Margo paused the inaudible Barbie chatter. She lay each one down carefully, brushed her hair out of her face, and looked up at me. “I thought he was going to die.”

  “Oh, baby!” I put down the laundry and book and sank down to the floor to give Margo a hug. It was a bit of overreaction, yes, he hadn’t even lost consciousness. But Margo had never really seen her brother—or anyone—hurt before.

  Margo’s skinny arms clasped around my neck. “I thought he was okay,” she said softly, “but then I saw the ghost, and I thought it was coming to take him away.”

  I resisted with all my might the urge to pull away and demand that Margo stop being silly with all this ghost business. But I knew better. I continued to hold my daughter close, feeling her pointy chin pressing into my shoulder.

  “You want to tell me?”

  “It was at the hospital. Dan was on a bed and the nurse was there washing his arm and he was crying and I felt really bad and Norma told me to sit in the chair and just be good and she went to call you and I stayed there.”

  “Uh-huh.” I smoothed the silky hair, warm to the touch. I smelled the baby shampoo that she still liked to use.

  “I was quiet and just looking and the nurse went away a minute
and Dan had his eyes closed and then I saw it.” Her voice dropped. “It was funny looking and blue and on fire and I thought that it was there to take Dan away and I stood up and said ‘No!’ as loud as I could and the nurse came back but she didn’t see. She just told me to be quiet and called for Norma and then we went and waited outside and I was scared that it would come back but I couldn’t say anything because Norma doesn’t believe in ghosts.” Margo grabbed me tighter. “Then daddy came but he was mad and Norma and I left and I didn’t know if Dan would be okay.”

  I returned her intense hug, my mind’s eye filled with swirling images of the thangka paintings at the monastery, of the Rinpoche’s calm, warm voice saying ‘Vajrapani, wrathful deity, protector god.’ Had Margo seen that image at the monastery? She hadn’t even come inside. Oh God, what was going on with my daughter? She must have seen a picture somewhere— it was a fierce image and would make an impression.

  “How did you know about the blue man? Did you see a picture of him inside the monastery?”

  She shook her head against my neck. “No. I’ve never seen him before.”

  “Well, I just saw a picture of him there, and the head monk told me he was a protector spirit. Maybe he was there to look out for Dan, hey?”

  Margo pulled back and looked up at me. A few tears stained her face. “Really?” She wiped her face roughly with a skinny hand. “Really?”

  “Cross my heart. When I’m all finished with this investigation, I’ll take you back up there and show you, and ask the monk to tell you about it. He’s a very kind man.” I took my thumbs and wiped Margo’s remaining tears. “Okay?”

  Margo smiled her luminous smile, the one that melts my heart every time. “Okay.”

  “And now,” I said, rising, “I’ve got to get ready for Butch and Elijah and the other guys to come, ‘cause we have to talk about what we’ve learned today. They wanted to come here so I could be home with you and Dan. Isn’t that nice? But we’ll sit outside, and you can play, and Dan will be here resting, and we’ll all be safe and together.”

  Margo nodded and picked up a Barbie. I smiled at her and left the room with the laundry and my book, closing the door softly behind me. Margo’s little twilight zone episodes made my heart uneasy. I really had to talk to Naomi about it.

  I threw the shirts and socks into the bathroom hamper and the book onto my bed, losing my place. Oh well, at this rate I’d have to start it over to even remember what had happened anyway. I returned to the kitchen and checked the enchiladas. They bubbled away and I quickly made a salad and then cracked a beer and went out to the porch. Noise from the neighborhood rang through the air, and the good smells of cooking filtered out through the open screen door. The air cooled with a late afternoon thunderstorm coming in from the West. I looked at the dark clouds overhead, ready to burst with rain. I heard the sounds of kids playing, full of their freedom, and savored the long, generous evening. I love summer, the air like balm now after the hot day, and the smells of pine and sage and the electricity in the atmosphere.

  I caught movement out of the corner of my eye and glanced over to the willow and the swing. A doe stood in the shadow of the tree, nibbling grass. Her ears flicked away flies, and her eyes were moist and gentle. I leaned against the porch rail and just watched her, the doe peaceful yet alert. She raised her head from eating and looked at me, meeting my gaze, before dropping back down to graze. I felt calm pervade my body, and I was grateful.

  Chapter Fourteen

  It felt almost like a party, with Elijah handing round beers and Dan telling Butch the story of his accident with great excitement and Margo running to and fro bringing out paper plates and a mismatch of forks and glasses for the picnic table out back. Jim and Bill were in deep discussion about the Broncos coming football season. The only one missing was Joe, way out in the west county on a call, but I couldn’t claim to be sorry about that.

  The guys had brought soda and beer, chips, salsa, guac, and a box of frozen deep-fried jalapeño things that were in the oven heating up. Beyond grateful, I added tonight as another notch on the IOUs I had with Butch. I couldn’t figure out why he was so damn nice to me; Elijah said it was obvious he wanted me to replace him as sheriff down the line, but I don’t know. I knew he had a soft spot for me, though it wasn’t in any way inappropriate. And I ate it up, if I’m honest. Butch was just the kind of dad I wished I’d had.

  We finally got the kids organized; Margo planted in front of the new Nickelodeon channel and Dan settled down in his lair. I made him take some Tylenol since he wouldn’t take the pain pills. He had that wide-eyed look that he’d get when he was a little guy, completely overstimulated and tired but unwilling to go to bed. I hoped that he’d crash soon and get some sleep. The guys and I settled down and enjoyed our own dinner, and when the plates were stacked and the food devoured, Butch called our meeting to order.

  “First thing: I called the CBI to see if we could get some help with this case, beyond Jim’s crime scene assistance. They said they could send an investigating agent up by the end of the week if we haven’t gotten any farther. The international status of the victim is gonna get tricky and frankly, that’s beyond any experience we have. In fact, the CBI agent I talked to said that it may well have to go to the Feds. So, we’ll work with that when the time comes. Meanwhile, we need to be on every bit of information and potential piece of evidence. Jim, what did you find today?”

  Jim let out a discreet belch and adjusted his glasses. “I started with a thorough search of the bedroom. Nothing unusual given his status as a visiting academic type. He didn’t appear to write in English at all—”

  “Yeah, Pema mentioned that he spoke just a little. Main language was Mandarin.” I said.

  “Right, so, in order to see if there is anything pertinent on the notes, books, any of the materials in his room you’re going to have to get a translator.”

  “Can we get someone up there to do it, somebody who isn’t connected to the crime?” Elijah asked.

  “Possibly,” Butch mused. “But it would be better to have a completely neutral party.”

  “Wait—Pema mentioned a guy who’s in town writing some kind of story about the monastery. I have it here …” Elijah flipped through his notes. “Jerome Taschen. German guy. He’s a journalist; got some kind of angle he’s researching. She said he was pretty up on all the sutras and stuff, so maybe he speaks Chinese. Or reads it.”

  “Good—one of you follow up that lead. And he might know something about Choden too. We’ll need to talk to him ASAP.” Butch gestured for Jim to continue.

  The name Taschen rang a bell, but I couldn’t remember who had mentioned it. Well, we’d find out soon enough.

  “I dusted the room for fingerprints,” Jim continued, “so we’ll have to see what comes in from the state AFIS database. Likely, though, you’ll have to fingerprint anybody who has had access to that room and they probably won’t be on any list. This is where you’d get good help from the FBI. As I think Shannon already mentioned, there was no wallet or passport in the room. I bagged and tagged the books and notebooks and those are at your office; I re-sealed the room.”

  “Shan, Eli, one of you get onto this journalist tonight so we can find out if he’s a viable solution to our translation problem. Otherwise, it’ll be an expert out of Denver, most likely, and I doubt our budget will stand that. Anything else, Jim?”

  “Yes. I went ahead and looked around the larger property. No one really seemed to be in charge, that young woman—Pema?—just told me to go where I liked. There are quite a few areas where the body could have been dismembered, and definitely a lot of potential weapons around, though I did not find any small kindling axe that would be one possibility. The kitchen alone had an impressive wall of knives and cleavers. I didn’t see any evidence of the type of bloodletting that would have occurred at the dismemberment, and frankly, there are so many people around that it would have had to be the dead of night to make it possible anyway. Which is plausible
, of course. But then the clean-up … well, you’ll have to decide if you want to get into the Luminol testing of the various buildings up there. Two goat barns, a biggish commercial kitchen, maintenance shed, garden sheds, a greenhouse, the main building, dorms—they’ve got a lot going on up there. Not to mention the woodland all around that isn’t developed. That much blood would attract wild animals. I did think to ask Pema if they had any irregular wildlife activity and she said no. They’re pretty careful because of the goats and there are chickens too—did I mention the henhouse?” Jim cracked his laconic smile. “Farms are the worst crime scenes.” Then he was serious again. “But that’s it for the monastery. Where the body was found, well, you all know what was discovered at that scene and what little wasn’t.”

  I glanced at Butch. I knew that he and Jim had disagreed about moving the body. But I didn’t think that we’d missed any big clue up there. Either place for a crime scene was a nightmare of contamination.

  “Shannon?” Butch looked at me. “Let’s go over what you and Eli found out today.”

  I shifted on the picnic bench. “Choden was not that well known. He’d been at the monastery a couple weeks, and few people had really talked with him. His lack of English was probably to blame for part of it. He spent most of his time in the library or his room, and he’s the only person in the visitor’s area right now. Some of the lay students we interviewed were completely unaware of him. People come and go; the temporary types don’t get much notice unless they are leading—what do they call it, Elijah?”

  “Dharma talks.”

  “Yeah, so unless they are like guest teachers or something, people can really just fade into the background. Lobsang knew him a little, Tenzin, and Rabten. They are all senior monks and part of the teaching or admin staff. Rabten claims that Thursday night Choden came down to town with him to go to the meditation and talk they give at the Methodist church every week. A good crowd that night, he said—whatever that means—so he wasn’t really tracking Choden, only he did leave after 8 o’clock and Rabten didn’t see him come back. He waited about half hour for him but then drove back up to the monastery alone. He didn’t see him after that at the monastery, but he might not have anyway. Lobsang doesn’t remember Choden using the library on Friday or Saturday, but thinks that he saw him at meditation Friday morning. Can’t be sure though.” I pulled my hair out of its braid. My head was starting to hurt. “I had to leave before I was done with Rabten, and I think we’ll want to speak with him again anyway—unless, Eli, did you get a chance to finish interviewing him?”