by Elia Seely
“I know. Makes me wonder who else is lying. Anyway, within all the back and forth between the two of them, there was some confusion about who told who about Shining Mountain and these sutras being there. I don’t know if that’s important or just memory lapse. What I didn’t like was the feeling that Rabten knew all of this, knew that it might be important, but didn’t say anything earlier. Steven’s fear, I get. But Rabten …” I thought back to the monk’s amused and almost playful manner as he had related the information to me. “Yeah, it was like a game to him, the whole thing. Like he was moving us along on his own game board. But again, why?”
“I agree,” Eli nodded. “He seems kind of mysterious, but also powerful.”
“Exactly! I have the same feeling about him. But, could he have killed Choden? His alibi is pretty tight, going to the ER and all. Unless Choden was killed at one time, hidden away, and then dismembered and scattered up there later. I suppose it could have happened like that.”
“Big chance to take. Where would he stash the body? Up there at the monastery?”
“Out in their forest? There’s plenty of land around. But why not just leave it up there somewhere? In our scenario, he’d have to get the body back into a car, and down the hill, and then carry him up to the meadow … no, I still feel like he had to be killed up there where he lay. Even a small man is heavy, and while Rabten is a big enough guy, carrying a dead body uphill for a mile would take some serious strength.” I was remembering my mountain rescue days; infrequently we’d have an unconscious person and the dead weight was challenging for two people to move, let alone one.
“Adrenaline? If he was hopped up enough on what he’d done, the adrenaline might pull him through it.”
We circled around the possibility but in the end, although neither of us liked Rabten much, he had a clear alibi and no motive. And, he was by all reports the most devout of monks. So, breaking that big vow would be a tough one to get around.
“Let’s get onto Jerome’s findings,” I said, pulling the yellow paper out. I read it aloud.
Choden’s first notebook (red cover) details his notes on the verses of the sutras, what he had read anyway. I won’t review here (is quite detailed and scholarly) but we can talk about it if it is of interest. The second, (blue notebook), is more a personal journal where he reveals a disagreement with Lobsang over copying the sutras vs. memorizing. Choden was skeptical about the superstition around the sutras being compromised if they were copied. He also wrote about a liaison with someone, (not identified), that seemed to be worrying him. Not sure if this was a sexual encounter or something else. Also feeling some guilt about it himself. Mentions a friend, Steven, who is there at the monastery, a few times. Some kind of plan they were making up, seemed like, for getting a copy of the sutras back to Dharmsala. His sketchbook shows various copies of thangka paintings and notes about the locations of the figures. Referencing an old text with photographic plates that is in the library. Parts of verses (from the sutras?) written with different images. It appears he is trying to work out some connection, a description perhaps? of images from paintings mentioned in the sutra or some such. I have some theories about this that would be easier to discuss in person. Nothing surprising to me among the books. But the most interesting (to me): the airmail letter that was separate from his papers is from a monk in a monastery in Nepal. This monk mentions Rabten by name and the Unfolding Lotus sutras. Date is almost five years ago and was addressed to Choden at the Dharma Gate University. I am at your service to discuss more.
My pulse jumped, both for the veiled ‘call me later’ and the information contained in the note. The mention of both Rabten and Steven, plus the reference to a guilty liaison were definite clues, finally, in black-and-white.
Eli let loose a soft whistle. “That’s something, then. So this hook-up with Tenzin that maybe happened—that could be a thing, and then Rabten linked to knowing about the sutras way back, and in effect, putting Choden onto them via the letter-writing monk. Choden must have told Steven about them, like Steven said, right? All of a sudden, I feel like Lobsang is back in the frame, here, if Choden and Steven had some plot to get a copy of these out of the country.”
“I agree. If Lobsang felt as if some sacred knowledge was being threatened by Choden’s actions, then maybe that would be worth killing for, as Rabten hinted. And he’s lying all over the place; the airmail letter suggests that Rabten knew about the sutras, but he told me he didn’t before he got out here. That he was following the Rinpoche. You know what, Eli, I think Rabten knows who did this. I think he knows and maybe he’ll tell and maybe he won’t. I bet another one of their vows is the equivalent of not tattling on each other—that would make sense, right? Protect the brotherhood or whatever?”
“What if he and Lobsang were in on it together? To keep the sutras here in the U.S. Seems like they’re all pretty protective of these verses, like it’s the original Bible or something.”
“We’re getting into conspiracy territory here,” I smiled, taking a gulp of now lukewarm coffee. “But I like it. I mean, maybe having these sutras gives them some kind of clout or political power. That would make a motive even greater, more believable. Even though, God knows, plain old religious zeal has started enough full-on wars over the years.”
“Yeah. If there was more than one person involved, say both Lobsang and Rabten, or Lobsang and Tenzin, or whatever, then alibis could be fabricated easily. But I don’t think—do you?—that there’s any way the Rinpoche would be involved.”
“He seems like a truly spiritual guy, for what that’s worth coming from me. But I wouldn’t rule anyone out at this point. Plenty of religious leaders are devious as hell when it comes to having the spiritual golden gloves. Look at that Bhagwan guy out in Oregon.”
Eli scrambled back through notes. “No one’s alibi for the darkest hours of Thursday or Friday night are truly confirmed, except Jampa and Rabten after midnight with their trip to the hospital. Even the Rinpoche could be in the running for being a part of a conspiracy killing.”
I jumped up as he was looking through the case file. “No one ever verified that hospital visit, did they? I’m going to check it right now.”
Butch came back in as I was on the phone to the hospital. Their log showed Rabten being admitted at 12:45 a.m. Saturday morning and released at 6:50 a.m. Although the woman on the phone could not confirm whether he’d been with anyone, I decided to go with his and Jampa’s story for the moment. When I finished the call, I went back into Butch’s office, where he stood talking to Eli about the court case. He sat wearily and we caught him up on our new theories and the evidence gathered since the morning.
“Good, good. Shannon, where do you want to go next?”
“I want to talk to Jerome more about what he references in this note about the sutras themselves and get more insight into the possible motivation they provide for an actual crime. I think, too, that we’ve got to dig a little deeper into these alibis and comings and goings with the cars. Not that someone would write ‘transporting dismembered body’ into the car logbook, but maybe we can flush out some times with those cars that are unaccounted for. Though,” I added, “in the dead of night anyone could steal out of there, so I’m not sure how much help that will be.”
“What’s frustrating,” Eli chimed in, “is that we don’t know when Choden actually disappeared. Was it Thursday night, as Rabten claims, or was it Friday? Kyle said that Choden was killed within 3-4 hours of eating a meal, probably lunch or dinner from the contents—”
“And it wasn’t Thursday night’s Chinese dinner—so he had to have had another meal somewhere! We need to look at the monastery’s menu book!” I exclaimed.
Both Butch and Eli slapped their foreheads in what would have been a funny gesture if we all didn’t feel so stupid at that moment. That Choden had been killed after Thursday night was so obvious I was embarrassed we’d overlooked it.
“I bet Tenzin keeps some kind of menu planning book so th
at he can buy supplies and so on. If we can find out when the lentils and potato stew were served, then at least we can narrow down his last meal.”
Butch did laugh, though it was a rueful echo of my own feelings. “Okay, so Shannon, you’re going to talk with Jerome, and Eli, do you want to go up to the monastery?”
“I’ll do it,” I said. “Eli had to come in early as it is and will have to take calls when Joe gets off duty. Maybe he can call around the restaurants, see if there were any specials of lentils and potatoes?” Eli nodded, made a note in his own notebook. “I feel like I’m on a roll. I can go back up there now and also make a plan to talk with Jerome later this evening. Unless you want to?”
“Goddam presentation at the city council meeting I’ve got to give tonight, and I haven’t even started it yet.” He looked at the clock: 4:30 p.m.
“It’s no problem,” I said, eager to be off and feeling the adrenaline rush of a possible breakthrough in the case. And, of course, the probability of seeing Jerome again.
We agreed on our plan of action. Our next meeting was set for 8 a.m. the following day. I called Jerome and left a message for him at the front desk of his motel with both my home and the dispatch number. Hopefully we could meet after dinner time. If I hustled, I’d have time to dash home, check on kids, pull out a frozen lasagna and give Dan some quick instructions before heading back up to the monastery. I didn’t trust anyone up there at this point, except maybe Pema, and I didn’t want to send her all over looking for menu books. Plus, I wasn’t even sure what I was looking for with the car logs, just some kind of discrepancy or clue that a car had been taken out or, if they recorded odometer readings, a missing trip or mileage that didn’t add up. All of this we should have checked the first day or two of the case. As amped as I was about finding a possible break, I also felt pretty bad that we had missed these plodding steps of textbook police work. I shuddered to think what our CBI agent would say if he ever materialized.
I did my best to throw off the self-criticism as I jumped in the Bronco and headed for home. We had some momentum now. Though I didn’t understand how or why, I did believe that the Unfolding Lotus sutras were central to why Choden had been killed. Steven’s worried face flashed through my mind. He might be right to be afraid, and now I wondered if he shouldn’t leave the monastery, for his own protection. I’d look for him, too, and say as much, if I got the opportunity. It would be close to dinner time by the time I got up there.
Thunderheads built up in the west, and a front of dark-bellied clouds shed trails of moisture down over the valley. The air was electric and full, charged with power and energy waiting to be released.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
I blazed back up Two Dog on autopilot, chastising myself again for missing the food connection. There was no way that Thursday night’s Chinese dinner with Jerome had been Choden’s last meal. Even if he hadn’t come back up with Rabten—and why would Rabten lie and make up that elaborate hitchhiker story?—he must have still been alive after Thursday night to eat another meal. And where and why would Choden stay in town and not return to the monastery? Knowing where and when he ate last would finally narrow down the day he died and let us home in on alibis.
I drove too fast down the monastery drive and skidded to a stop in the gravel lot. I slammed the car into park and jumped out. Car log first, then a trip up to the kitchen.
No one was in the reception office, but the door was open, and I stepped over to the shelf where they kept the log book. A box with the keys, labeled and unlocked, sat next to the red lined spiral notebook labeled ‘cars.’ I opened the log and went back to Thursday night almost a week ago. There was an entry for Rabten to reserve the van for the meditation in town, and times when he took it out and returned it. The odometer reading was jotted next to it—and I could see from the previous entry that the mileage roughly tallied with a trip to town and back. So Rabten hadn’t driven anywhere out of his way on Thursday. Friday the van had been used again by Tenzin in the afternoon, but the rest of the cars had apparently stayed on site. I stood, staring at the pages, trying to figure out what I was actually looking for. They didn’t seem to use their cars that much if the logbook was accurate. Mainly the Subaru and the van were taken into Gold Creek, so perhaps the work trucks were just used here. I felt an idea stirring, at the edge of my thoughts. But what?
Someone stepped into the reception area, and I startled like a guilty kid. It was Tenzin. He stopped short, surprised to see me. He glanced at the car book.
“Are you still here? What are you doing?”
“I’m here again,” I said, though I sure didn’t feel that I had to explain myself to Tenzin. “And I had another question for you, so I’m glad to see you.” I gave him my best fake smile.
He stepped further into the room. “What are you doing?” he asked again.
“I’m just having a look at the car log. It seems like the cars don’t get that much use, or is the book a formality that most people don’t adhere to?”
“We use it,” he answered. “We try to keep track of the mileage for maintenance purposes. But things get missed, yes, people take a car if it’s available, forget to log mileage. In fact,” he said, thoughtful now, “I had wanted to take out the Subaru last week and no one had logged it out, but it wasn’t here. I needed to go make a small food pick-up, had to take the van instead.”
“So the Subaru was gone Friday afternoon?”
“Yes, that’s what I said. Is it important?”
“It might be,” I shrugged. “Who was using it, did you find out?”
“I didn’t, but then I didn’t care to. I know it wasn’t Rabten or the Rinpoche, so it was probably Jampa or—”
“How do you know it wasn’t either of them? What time of day was it?”
Tenzin looked petulant, for all the world like a little boy fed up with questions from a visiting and disliked relative. But he answered.
“It was around … 2 p.m., I think. I’d finished some after-lunch chores and as I came over, I saw Rabten up at his window, in his room, and then I saw the Rinpoche coming out of this office on my way in. I checked out the van and went down to get a food order waiting at Stewart’s and came back up.”
“And was the Subaru here when you returned?”
He thought. “I don’t know. I didn’t look for it. I returned around four. I don’t remember seeing it, but I wasn’t looking. I had food to put away and prep to start for dinner.”
“Okay,” I reached for my notebook and wrote down what he’d told me. “Do you keep a menu book or record of menu plans?”
“Yes.”
“Can you tell me about lunch and dinner menus for last week?”
“Probably; and they are written down in my office. What day do you want to know about?”
I thought now he looked apprehensive, but it was probably my imagination. I doubted he knew much about stomach contents in corpses.
“Lunch and dinner last Friday.”
He crossed his arms, looked off toward the window, thinking. “We had … dal and rice and potatoes for lunch, and a stir fry and rice for dinner.”
“What is dal, exactly?”
“Lentils and spices. Tomatoes, in this one, as I recall.” He squinted at me. “How is this possibly helpful?”
My pulse jumped in my throat. Choden had been alive and at the monastery Friday and had eaten lunch but likely not dinner. It had to be. I couldn’t think of any restaurant in Gold Creek that would serve lentils and potatoes, even as a special. Though Eli would find that out this afternoon. But Choden had been killed Friday afternoon. And one of the cars had been missing as well. We were going to have to seize the Subaru and have Jim come back up and go over it for any trace of blood or Choden’s presence. And he had just left a few hours ago, after testing the knives and was now on his way to the far side of the state. Damn.
“Just checking some things off my list.” I smiled as sweetly as I could. “Let me get out of your way. Do you need
the car book?”
“Yes. I need to take the Subaru down tomorrow, so I want to reserve it.”
“I’m afraid we’re going to have to impound that vehicle. I’ll speak to the Rinpoche, of course, but I’m going to radio for the tow truck now and we’ll be keeping the vehicle for some testing.”
Tenzin stared. “What? Why? You think that someone used our Subaru to … to transport …to … what?” He couldn’t say move Choden’s dead body. He paled and again his eyes pricked and brightened with moisture. “I don’t understand—you can’t just take our car away.”
“I can if I feel that it may have been used in conjunction with a crime. It will be returned to you in satisfactory condition, of course. But I can, and will, be removing it today.”
We looked at each other another few moments and Tenzin turned to go. “I’m going to get the Rinpoche,” he said, back to his petulant little boy.
“Please do,” I said. “That will be helpful.” I waited until I heard the thump of the entry door close, and then I hooked a pen through the ring of the keys labeled ‘Subaru’ and went outside to radio the tow truck and let the guys know what was going on. The keys I put in an evidence bag so that Jim could print them. It was a long shot, and anyone’s prints could be on them—I’d been careful to not touch the plastic Napa Auto Parts fob or the key itself—but worth doing. I waited in the parking lot for Tenzin and the Rinpoche to return. He’d headed toward the upper area, so I knew it would take a few minutes.
My pulse still throbbed with adrenaline. Now we knew that Choden—wherever he’d been Thursday night—had been killed Friday, and that he or his body had been transported away in the Subaru sometime in that same time frame. Well—that was a supposition, but why not? If he’d been here to eat lunch at noon—and I just knew he had been—he’d have to have been dead by 4 p.m. according to Kyle. Where he was killed, and how and why his remains had gotten up to the meadow at Pinto Ridge was still a mystery. But I knew now that it wasn’t Rabten, the Rinpoche, or Tenzin that had taken Choden away and killed him Friday afternoon. So that left Lobsang … but hadn’t Jerome said that he’d seen Lobsang in the library Friday afternoon? That needed checking up on. And if not Lobsang, then that left Jampa and Tsewang as senior staff, but Tsewang herself had told me that anyone who could drive could use a car. So, it could have been Steven—anyone—who had driven Choden away. I sighed, the knowledge that we’d now have to talk to everyone again about their movements Friday afternoon damping some of my excitement. But this was a major breakthrough. I glanced at my watch: five forty-five. I had left a message for Jerome at his motel that I’d meet him sometime after seven.
