by Elia Seely
“They could be anywhere,” Eli said. “He wouldn’t ditch them in town. If it were me, I’d take them off somewhere else and bury or burn them. Burning’s better but would draw attention.”
“No, I like Butch’s idea,” I jumped in. “If he took them directly to the landfill, tossed them back in the pile under some other things … if they were in a bag, who’d ever know?” Our county dump was a drive-in-and-dump-yourself kind of place; pay at a gate a quarter mile up a dirt road and then dump away. Sometimes there was a county employee bulldozing around but often it was just you and the seagulls. “We’ve got to check with them, soon as we can.”
Butch wrote it on the task list he was keeping on the side of his desk calendar.
“And he’d have a backpack, something to put them in,” I continued. “Would he dump that too, or bring it back up to the monastery with him, cool as you please?”
“We’ve got to check, when we go back over alibis,” Eli said.
“Yeah. Okay—now to what Jerome and I discussed about his look through Choden’s papers. These sutras are rare, written in an obscure language or dialect, and according to Steven and Choden’s diary, have some kind of secret code or some damn thing added into them that makes them extra shiny-special and hard to figure out. For elite eyes only. Choden was linking up various images from a specific set of thangka paintings—one or two of which are conveniently hanging in the library of the monastery—that somehow unlock the ‘code’ of these sutras.”
Both Butch and Eli’s eyes widened with a ‘what the hell?’ look.
“I know, I know. I don’t get it at all either. But Choden’s scholarly and private writing all point to this. Rabten, Lobsang, and the Rinpoche, at least, have all read the sutras and possibly know about the special sauce. Rabten is supposedly making his own translation of the sutras into Sanskrit. With or without the Rinpoche’s or Lobsang’s blessing I don’t know. And, Steven and Choden had argued about the whole plan to smuggle a copy of the sutras out of the monastery, that Friday morning. Jerome told me this; in fact, Choden had mentioned his disagreement with Steven at the Thursday Chinese dinner. But he didn’t tell Jerome why he and Steven had argued. So to me, Steven has a lot to answer for: lies, omission, and all the intel about the great Sutra Plot. Maybe he’s more likely as a suspect than Lobsang: he’s young, fit, could get Choden off on the trail, and could come and go a little more easily from the monastery.”
“But what about all the lying Rabten’s done?” Eli asked.
“Yeah, I wonder now about the whole hitchhiker story … but why make all these things up? Why lie about bringing Choden back up, if he did? Would he be trying to protect Steven? He’s the one that told me that Steven and Choden knew each other in the first place, so in a sense he dumped Steven right in it.”
We sat silent. The clock on Butch’s wall ticked the seconds softly away. I was aware of the elusive nature of the whole case: lies, slippery omissions, he-said-no-he-said stories that shifted like sand. And again, the incomprehensible motive tied together by an ancient holy book that was meaningful to a handful of people at best.
“We need to talk to the Rinpoche now about these sutras and tell him what we’ve discovered about all these plans. We need to understand what would happen to the monastery if the sutras were destroyed or disseminated. What would happen to a monk that broke a big vow. Why these sutras are so important to them, and why they’d be written in this code or whatever.” I didn’t want to go back to Jerome; there was no need anyway now. The Rinpoche would know as much as anyone, but would he tell me? “And talk to Rabten again too, maybe.”
Butch added to our list of jobs. “Got it,” he said. “Anything else?”
I shook my head. “Let’s split up the tasks and get going.”
“I’ll get on to the dump and check in with Jim. Shannon, you and Eli go up to the monastery. I think at this point we need to get our primary suspects down here for more formal interviews. Start with Steven. When we’re done with him, see what we’ve got, we’ll bring in Lobsang. I think you’re going to have to go over the outbuildings again, look deeper for the murder weapon. Killer could’ve stashed it and then replaced it once the preliminary search Jim did was finished. And talk to the Rinpoche and Rabten again about these sutras. We’ll work straight through the weekend if we have to.” Butch shot me a look and I nodded. “I’ll get Fran on the phone and see if she can pull some overtime on dispatch for us, so we can all be free to try and get this wrapped up. I’ll make it so she can’t say no.”
We moved out of the office, amped up with purpose. It was a relief to focus on the case, knowing my kids were safe with Naomi for the day. I needed to call my mother tonight if I was going to; it was a long drive from Telluride to Gold Creek, though I didn’t imagine for a moment that she’d actually come. Still, I had promised Naomi and myself that I’d try.
The phone rang as we were getting ready to leave. Eli answered and waved me over. “Jerome,” he mouthed.
I took the phone, not wanting to, but hardly able to put him off. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Jerome’s voice was soft, intimate, and sent my blood rushing. “Do you have a moment?”
“I don’t, actually.” Hoped he couldn’t hear the shake in my voice. “We’re about to head out. Lots to do. Can I call you later? Do you have some more information for us?”
He hesitated, responding, maybe, to the formality in my voice. “Yes, well, I just had a phone call from Steven, at the monastery. He’s pretty upset and, though it sounds unlikely, he thinks that someone tried to kill him last night.”
“What?” I said, and my tone brought Eli’s eyebrows up. “Why did he call you?”
“I am not sure, but he did. He knew I was staying here. I told him he should call the police, of course, but he said that he did not want to involve you. He asked if I would come and get him, give him a ride to Steamboat or even take him to Boulder. He seemed quite panicked. I just got off the phone with him. I told him I would come, but if you—”
“Don’t go. We’re headed up there. I’ll make sure he’s all right. Can you tell me what happened?” Eli was mouthing what? what? I waved him away.
“He said that he woke up and there was someone in the room where he sleeps, standing over him. He thought it must be one of the boys he rooms with, but they were both in their beds. As soon as he woke fully and sat up, the person ran out of the room.”
“But that’s all? Did he follow the person? Get a sense of who it was?”
“He did go out to the hall, but he saw nothing. He went back to bed and stayed up most of the night. Apparently, the doors don’t lock.”
I couldn’t tell if Jerome believed him or not; I was inclined to think that Steven was being a bit hysterical, and also starting to think that he was making up stories to throw us off our suspicion of him. He had to know we were going to narrow things down to him as a suspect. I thought it odd that he had called Jerome; but he was looking for a way to disappear so it made sense that he not give the cops a heads up.
“Thanks. We’re leaving now.” I ended the call, explained to Eli. “Let’s get up there before he finds another ride down.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Two Dog was burned onto my brain at this point and I drove it on autopilot. Eli followed me in the sheriff’s Chevy that Butch usually drove in order to take Steven back down into custody for questioning. If we had the space, I would vote for bringing both Lobsang and Steven down together, but we only had one tiny room for conducting interviews; we rarely needed that as it was. We wanted to get Steven safely tucked away; let him stew a bit while I questioned the Rinpoche and possibly Rabten again about the sutras and the possible ramifications to the monastery for losing them or ‘corrupting’ them through copying. I was almost to the monastery drive when a shape streaked out in front of me, over the road. I slammed on the brakes, hearing Eli do the same behind me. A coyote panted from the gravel verge, tail twitching, and then ran into the trees.
/> “Bastard,” I muttered after him. I didn’t need tricks right now.
I parked my Bronco in the lower lot and continued with Eli up to the residence area in the Chevy. It was almost ten; I didn’t know where Steven was going to be, but we would try his room and the goat barn first. I hoped he hadn’t already taken off down to town hitching.
Eli went into the men’s dorm and I strode to the goat barn. No Steven. I met Eli back outside; he wasn’t in his room either. The peaceful cast of shadowy light from the tall ponderosas blurred with danger, seen through the veil of adrenaline surging within me.
“You look in the greenhouse and around back,” I said. “I’ll see if he’s in the dining area.”
The dining room smelled of spices and lunch in progress, overlaying the sweet maple smell of oatmeal. The room was empty except for my boy Steven, nursing a cup of something at a far table. I could hear Tenzin in the kitchen, giving someone instructions and the repetitive whap-whap of chopping.
“Steven,” I said, slowing down my pace. My voice broke on the last syllable like a teenage boy and I covered it with a cough. His head reared up and he gripped the table with both hands.
“Keep your seat,” I told him as I approached, friendly. “I’ll join you.” I sat opposite him. He looked terrible: dark circles, hair crazy and matted down on one side. He looked, in fact, like he’d been crying. The pressure was getting to him, if he was our guy.
“Jerome called me. He was concerned for you. You should have just called us yourself. We’re here for you, Steven. Deputy Stewart and I are here and he’s going to take you down to the sheriff’s office. Get through some routine paperwork, have you sign your statement, and answer a few more questions. Hear about your scare last night.”
“I don’t want—”
“Not optional at this point.” Still trying for friendly. “We need you to come down, and it will be safer for you, especially if there’s someone here who means you harm.”
“Are you arresting me?”
“No reason to if you come along without a fuss.” I didn’t want to slap the cuffs on him there. We barely had probable cause to justify an arrest, but a warrant could take days and he’d spook and run before that. Though he wasn’t the type to whip out a fancy lawyer—even if Gold Creek had such a thing—I wanted him to go quietly.
We looked at each other levelly across the table. Someone dropped a pan with a clatter in the kitchen. I saw Eli stride in through the kitchen entry, clock us, and slow down. Steven saw him too, and his leg started to bounce under the table.
“What is this? I haven’t done anything. Someone’s trying to kill me!”
“Steven, take a breath, okay? We’re not arresting you, but we do need to ask you some more questions. You were Choden’s closest associate. You’ve omitted telling us some things—”
Steven’s eyes widened. “I haven’t—” but he stopped, knowing very well, of course, that he had.
“Best not to say any more now,” I continued. “Let it keep.” I didn’t want to caution him right now and freak him out further, though we would once we got him to the sheriff’s office.
Eli had reached the table. “Hey Steven,” he said easily. He sat down on Steven’s left. The kid shrank from him, eyes rolling like a spooked horse.
“Shall we?” I said, getting up. Eli stood again, with his hand on Steven’s elbow. “Car’s right outside. Let’s go to town.” Forced smile and jolly tone; Steven wasn’t buying it but I wanted to try. I felt sorry for him, in a strange way, though a part of me was horrified that this young man had quite possibly brutally killed someone who was supposed to be a best friend. So much for non-violence.
He walked out between us, head swiveling as Eli and I kept up a little chat about the weather and new pool hours and some nonsense that had been on the news. We kept him moving as he slowed, seeing the Chevy with its sheriff’s department logo and lights, cage separating the back seat from the rest of the vehicle. My heart pounded with a combination of victory and apprehension. I recognized that I didn’t want Steven to be our guy as much as I did want him to be the one. Eli helped him up into the car, chatting the whole way to calm him, like you’d do with an animal or small child.
I watched them head down the drive, following on foot a moment later. The next on my list was to corner the Rinpoche or Rabten. Butch would hold off on questioning Steven until I was back, I knew, unless the boy threw a fit and demanded a public defender. Of course, suspects have a right to a lawyer, but we wouldn’t want Steven calling one right off the bat. We could hold him on suspicion for twenty-four hours.
The crunch of tires faded as the Chevy disappeared down the road, leaving the chatter of birds, squirrels nattering in the treetops, and the occasional shout of a voice somewhere in the grounds. It was still cool enough—the monastery is at about 7,000 feet—but I could tell it was going to be a hot day. I thought about Margo and Dan, up at Naomi’s, and hoped they were enjoying the swimming hole and keeping each other entertained. I reminded myself that tonight I would call my mom. The thought made my shoulders clench, which sent a strange wave of sadness through me in return. At some point my mother had been there for me, I had been her little girl, someone that she had loved more than grief itself. And Steven’s mom, sending her little boy off to monastery school, essentially abandoning him to a life of who knows what while she pursued some elusive enlightenment of her own. I realized I didn’t know anyone who had a childhood I’d envy. My own kids weren’t getting the designer life; I knew I was messing them up in a million different ways. But I loved them, fiercely and absolutely, and I wasn’t going to keep making mistakes based on ‘poor me.’ Wednesday night had been a wake-up call. I didn’t need another one.
I liked Jerome, I didn’t want to cold shoulder him, but I couldn’t carry on something with him. It was unprofessional and fruitless anyway, as he’d leave at some point once he had gotten his research finished. I was just as bad as Naomi in that way, always picking the ones who wouldn’t stick around. I wasn’t sure what that said about either of us, but I felt that today, at least, with a possible arrest and my kids safe and the light pine scented air filtered into sepia, that I’d passed through some shadowy gateway and on to something better.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
“I need to see the Rinpoche, or failing him, Rabten. Right away.”
Pema didn’t look surprised to see me, only let out a small sigh as she looked up to find me standing, once again, in the reception office. She rose.
“The Rinpoche is in Boulder for a couple of days. Rabten has no classes this afternoon to prep for; he may be in his rooms, or in the library.”
It figured the Rinpoche would be absent; I’d much rather talk to him about the bigger picture of the sutras than Rabten, but I’d have to take what I could get. I thanked her and decided to check upstairs first. I poked my head into the library, also curious if Lobsang was there and to see what his reaction might be to my presence. He was at his desk, in conversation with Tenzin. They both looked at me with what I took to be guilty schoolboy expressions when they saw me, but which in fairness could have been ordinary surprise. I hadn’t seen the two of them talking before and was struck at how big Tenzin actually was in comparison to Lobsang. They waited for me to speak.
“I’m looking for Rabten. Have you seen him?”
“He’d be in his rooms now,” Tenzin said. “He has an office there he works in.”
“Third floor, men’s dorm?” I confirmed.
Tenzin nodded, Lobsang’s expression impassive. I gave both of them a long look and left.
I paused at my Bronco to radio into the office. Eli hadn’t had time to arrive. Fran was on dispatch; Butch had wrangled her in for some overtime.
“Hey Fran, Eli is coming in with a young man for questioning. Can you make sure the interview room actually has some space and two chairs, dig out our tape recorder?” The room was so little used that it mainly wound up as storage.
“Will do, hon.
Butch said to tell you that Jim is on his way back over to look at that vehicle. And he’s out to the landfill now.”
“Okay. I’m up here a while longer, doing an interview. Have Eli wait for me unless our guy gets too agitated.”
We signed off and I slammed the door of the Bronco, took a breath, and headed back up the hill to the residential part of the monastery. I had spent so much time—up and down this road a dozen times now at least in the last few days—that the place had a strange familiarity: peace overlaid with something ominous and danger-soaked behind it.
When I approached the dorm, I looked up to the third-floor windows. Rabten’s apartment had to be one of these front rooms, if Tenzin had seen Rabten in a window from down here. I went inside—sweet coolness and resiny incense—and walked up the three flights of stairs. I hadn’t been in this building before, and I was impressed with how clean and modern it was. Nice Buddha-esque art on the walls, beautiful wood, a small sitting area that the stairs opened onto. There was one door opposite the stairwell, on the back side of the building, and a short hall with four more doors just to my left. I guessed that the Rinpoche would be in the back, so turned to inspect the name plates on the doors. Thankfully they were in English, one for each resident and a shared bathroom. Rabten’s was the door at the end. I paused, wiped my palms on my trousers, turned the volume way down on my radio, and knocked.
I waited. The silence was thick, almost sleepy. Just as I raised my hand to knock again, the door was flung open and Rabten stood there. I stepped back instinctively; his demeanor had a mad-scientist sort of feel to it. If he’d had any hair, it would have been standing on end. His eyes shone steely bright, and his whole body seemed to hum with tension. What the hell had he been doing in there?
