by Elia Seely
“No! But they are guidelines that we aspire to, and for the most part, succeed at. However, we all fall short. It’s inevitable. This is where self-compassion and compassion for your fellow humans is so essential.” She fixed an intense gaze on me. “Of course, it isn’t acceptable that someone has killed this young man. But even that person deserves compassion.”
“I’m not worried about finding compassion,” I said. “I’m more worried about justice. And I feel, if I can be totally honest here with you, that the monastery is a hall of mirrors. Not one person has told me the straight up truth, and there are people there who I feel are living under completely false pretenses.”
“Like who?” She demanded. “And how could you possibly determine what is false and what is not?”
“Rabten, for one. Who has lied to us multiple times and purposely misdirected this investigation. I wouldn’t expect a man of spiritual devotion to act in such a way.” I sat back, pulled on the end of my braid.
“Rabten. Well, he is very intelligent, and more on the—shall we say—militant end of the devotional scale. But that’s hardly a crime, or, in his case, false. It’s who he is. As to the quality of his information or his motives, well, I couldn’t say.”
Still a lawyer at heart. Not going to commit herself. I decided to move on.
“What do you know about the Unfolding Lotus sutras? And the ‘special powers’ they are supposed to confer? And have you experienced, as a person who meditates often, the kind of unusual abilities that others have told me about?”
She pulled back, a smile twitching at her lips. “Special powers? Unusual abilities? What are you talking about, exactly?”
I felt foolish explaining, but I couldn’t believe that she wouldn’t have some experience with the expanded intuition, the vision, perhaps, that Steven and the others were so excited about. I said as much.
She took a moment to consider. “I suppose if I think about it, there have been times where I have felt more sensitive to my environment, the feelings and thoughts of others. I hadn’t thought of it in those terms—as phenomena. But I suppose, yes, I can see what you are talking about. It’s never been of interest to me, or as such, a distraction.”
I asked her again about the sutras, and when she pled ignorance, told her what I knew about them, what Choden, Rabten, and the others were so obsessed with. She shook her head.
“Deputy, I am ignorant of these special powers and the connection between the verses and the thangka paintings. But I am not a scholarly Buddhist. I have no need to investigate the more obscure rabbit holes that exist in the broader school and context of Buddhism. For me it is the simplicity that appeals, a purity of heart and intention that drew me to this life. Others may indeed quest after spiritual power or secret knowledge, but if they do, it is no concern or interest of mine.”
“But do you think that it would be a reason to kill Choden? That someone would want to keep the sutras out of the mainstream—or away from the Chinese, or whatever it was—such that they would break both an important vow and a human taboo? Can you, from your perspective as a Buddhist nun, or even a lawyer, for God’s sake, get how that would happen?” I leaned forward with the effort to batter past her intellectual wall. “He was chopped in pieces,” I said again, an echo of my first frustrating conversation with her.
She put up her hand. “Yes, yes, I’m aware.” Her eyes flicked away and she let out a little sigh. “It isn’t unusual to find monks who are ambitious. They want the prestige of being teachers, becoming lamas, important figures like the Rinpoche—who, by the way, is the most humble man you will ever meet, next to the Dalai Lama. There are politics and hidden hierarchies and a glass ceiling within the ranks of Buddhism and even within this monastery. I am the lone senior nun. I am routinely excluded and passed over. I don’t care. I’m not ambitious, but I notice it. There is hypocrisy. My God, that is everywhere you find humanity. Our life seems special to you because it is far from what you know or would choose. But it isn’t special. We aren’t inhuman. We are humans laboring toward consciousness in a very particular way. And now, you believe, there is one among us who has killed someone. It’s unthinkable, to me, but it is not, of course, impossible. It would be naive of me to say so. If you have evidence …” she shrugged. “Then that must speak for itself.”
We were silent as I took in her little speech.
“So, you haven’t read the sutras, the monastery is no more holy than the White House, and people can do what they like, as long as the Rinpoche gets to have his illusion of peace?”
Tsewang ignored my sarcasm. “Of course we have internal ways of dealing with issues within the community, and we do deal with them. As for the sutras, they are in an obscure dialect that I cannot read. I know that the Rinpoche has asked Rabten to make a translation into Sanskrit. Still a holy language, but one that most of us can decipher.”
“And what of the taboo of making a copy that Lobsang is so worried about?”
“Superstition. Story. Tibetan Buddhism is full of it.” She smiled faintly. “I’m not sure what your objective was in bringing me down here, but I fear you have not accomplished it, have you?”
Intuition? Or the look on my face? But I laughed in spite my irritation with her and disappointment in myself. “You’re right, Tsewang. So, just so I can cross it off my list, what were you doing after lunch last Friday, until 4 p.m?”
I expected more of her disapproval, but she only took a moment to think. “As I believe I told you, there were meetings most of the day. And I was able to attend the 4 p.m. meditation, which I like to do but can’t always.”
“Did you see Choden that day? Or anything that strikes you now as unusual?”
“I—well, I did not see Choden, but I did notice Rabten taking out the Subaru. Usually he reserves Friday afternoons to work on his translation project of the sutras, as he doesn’t have classes. So that seemed a little out of his rhythm. But not remarkable. He does go to town occasionally, on errands. But as you’ve now impounded that vehicle … it crossed my mind earlier that this might be important.”
My heart seemed to literally stop in my chest. “What time was this? Was anyone with him?” When had she been going to tell us?
“It was sometime after lunch, but not too long after. I didn’t really notice. I was coming from the kitchen garden toward the front. I saw the car just going out of the parking area there. I recognized Rabten—though it was only the back of his head—because he’s so tall. He did have someone with him, possibly … yes, he did. But I didn’t see who.”
“But it was before 2 p.m?”
“Yes. Well before, I’d say. Lunch had just ended. Probably it was more like one-fifteen or so.”
“And did you see him return?”
“No.” She expertly clocked my expression. “This is important, isn’t it?”
“It may be.”
Her eyes raked my face. She’d probably been a good lawyer.
“So. Rabten?”
“I can’t say, at this point. But we have been trying to fill in the details of everyone’s’—including Choden’s—movements. We weren’t originally concerned about Friday afternoon specifically. But, well.”
We looked at each other.
“Tenzin said he saw Rabten upstairs, standing at his window, at around 2 p.m. But if he was gone—”
“I don’t know if it was Choden with him, and I don’t know where he was going. He may have been back by two. He could have been taking someone to the road, or—”
“Yes,” I said, rising. “We’ll just ask him, if he’ll tell us the truth this time.” But we both knew that Rabten wasn’t going to just confess to taking the car, killing Choden, and reappearing cool as you please. Even if he could have managed that in forty-five minutes, which was impossible.
Tsewang rose with me, her face troubled. I was satisfied to have gotten to her, at last. She didn’t like that she had maybe thrown Rabten in it, or else she was disturbed that, after all, she was on fa
irly intimate terms with a killer.
We went down the stairs in silence.
“Please,” she took my arm, “if you find out, if it is him, please, let me inform the Rinpoche. If at all possible.”
“If I can,” her vulnerability surprised me. “I can’t promise, you know that. And Tsewang, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but please don’t speak about this to Rabten. It might not be safe for you if he knows you saw him. You understand?”
She nodded and turned away.
“Will you sign a statement as to what you’ve told me?”
“Of course. When will you—” but she stopped herself, knowing I wouldn’t answer.
“I’ll have a statement for you to sign as soon as we can manage it, but someone will bring it up to you.” She nodded again and walked down the hall to the door. I watched her leave. I thought about what she’d told me. Rabten could not have left the monastery at a little past one and been back, deed complete, by two. Tenzin had lied for him, or been mistaken about seeing Rabten in the window. Or Rabten had delivered Choden to someone else, who had then killed him. But that was a fantastic and unlikely solution.
Steven’s words echoed in my mind: wild stuff, like bi-location, telepathy, remote viewing.
I shivered, thinking of Rabten’s terrifying and predatory presence lurking around my daughter. Thinking of how cool he’d been, how sure that no one would notice him driving away with Choden, how smug as he dropped his little hints, manipulated his facts and lies.
I went back into the office and typed up what Tsewang had told me. And then I waited, stomach churning, for Butch and Eli to return.
Chapter Forty-Four
“Jerome asked me to say hi,” Eli said, with a teasing smile. He had just returned from his interview with the man. “I think he likes you.”
“Shut up.” I busied myself with papers at my desk. “What did he have to say?”
“Well, he seemed a little embarrassed, actually, in admitting that he was into all this psychic stuff. I’d bet that’s why he didn’t emphasize it with you. You know how it is, when you’re around like-minded people, you let fly, but if not … well, I didn’t get the sense that he was hiding anything deliberately. He wanted me to assure you that he was completely forthcoming, honest, and respectful with you, and that he thoroughly enjoyed your interaction.” Eli smiled again. “You know, how suspects always do.”
“Shut up,” I said. My face burned and Eli could see it. “So we flirted a little, whatever. Did you manage to check his pants and shirt size, at least?”
“Yeah,” Eli replied, still chuckling. “Thirty-four inseam and size large t-shirt. Claimed to never have a ‘free Tibet’ t-shirt and was eager to show me his whole wardrobe. Only one pair of jeans in the lot and mostly plain white t-shirts, button downs, some shorts. So, they could be his clothes, but I don’t think so. I went over his whole alibi again, from Thursday through Saturday morning. All checks against what he’s already told us and that we’ve confirmed. He’s got a window from about three, when he left the monastery, to 7 p.m., when he showed up at Ruby’s for dinner. But by the time he would’ve got up to the County Park with Choden and up the trail to kill him, it’s too late for our time of death. And there’s no way he killed him up at the monastery and drove away with him. I had a look through his vehicle. Nothing suspicious, and it hasn’t been cleaned recently. Or maybe ever.” He smiled. “I think Jerome’s out of it.”
I should have checked his truck myself. I felt my flush rising, and I kept my eyes on my paperwork on the desk. “Okay, well, good.”
“How did it go with Tsewang?”
I related the gist of the interview to him, glad to be finished talking about Jerome.
“So, she says she’ll sign a statement that she saw him in the Subaru?” Eli asked.
“Yeah. Ideally it would be good if someone else had seen them, so we can have strong evidence to refute his alibi.” We both were silent a moment. I could smell Eli’s shampoo, the clean smell of his clothes. “Maybe we should check and see if there were any deliveries that day at around that time. Like UPS, or the propane, or something. Maybe someone ‘off campus’ saw the Subaru leaving with Rabten and Choden. God, maybe even someone else up there saw them. I mean, if they didn’t know it was important, they wouldn’t think to say anything, or even remember it, right?”
“Ah, hell. Yeah, you’re right, of course. That means interviewing everyone again.”
We looked at each other. Another day at least of trawling through memories. But it would have to be done. “All right, let’s get up there. Radio Butch and tell him to stick around if he’s still up there talking to Tenzin. I’m going to call their office and see if they had any deliveries on the calendar for that day. Talk to Pema and that other girl that works in the reception.”
Butch was on his way in, just getting into the city limits. Kamela was the other girl in the monastery office; she patiently checked their calendar for the Friday afternoon. In fact, they had gotten a propane delivery from High Ridge Fuels, but since she wasn’t in the office that day she couldn’t say when they’d come. And UPS was up and down, so I’d have to check with them. I called the propane company next. After identifying myself, I asked about their time logs. When had the truck arrived at the monastery? How long had they stayed? Where were the tanks?
“Okay, let me look,” the woman, Angela, said. I could hear her shuffling paper and the sound of men’s voices in the background. Eli was in Butch’s office, staring at our carpeted incident board.
“Okay,” her gum popped. “Looks like Jesse was the driver, got up there at 1:25 p.m. and got the tanks filled—Shep, where are those tanks up at the monastery place? Behind the kitchen?” A male voice answered in the affirmative. “So, behind their kitchen, filled two tanks—that’s 1000 gallons, and logged the job complete at 2:40 p.m. Need anything else?”
“Can you give me Jesse’s last name and contact information please?”
“Oh-kay,” she said, popping. “He’s in the book, last name Huckerman. It’ll be under Jesse and Sissy, not Jack. That’s his dad.”
“Thanks so much,” I replied and hung up, grabbing the phone book from my desk drawer. I found and dialed Jesse-not-Jack’s number and glanced at the clock. Quarter to ten, hopefully he’d be home, washing his truck or mowing the lawn instead of out fishing. A kid about Margo’s age answered the phone, hollered for his dad and then dropped the receiver with a clatter.
“Yeah?” Deep male voice.
“Jesse Huckerman?”
“Yeah?” suspicious.
“This is Deputy Shannon O’Connor at the sheriff’s office. I have a question about a delivery you made last Friday, the 6th, to the Shining Mountain monastery.”
“Yeah?”
One hit wonder, this guy.
“Your office said you logged your arrival at 1:25 p.m. I know this may be a long shot, but did you happen to see a green Subaru station wagon on the road or coming out of the monastery at around that time?”
“Huh.” Thinking. “Uh … yeah, I did, matter of fact. I waited for them to pull out on the road; narrow kind of entrance there so I let them get out first.”
My pulse jumped. “Do you recall the driver? What he looked like? If there was anyone else in the car?”
“Lemme think.” Jesse breathed into the receiver, cleared his throat. The phone was slippery with sweat under my grasp. “Yeah. Two people in it, big guy driving, bigger than the passenger, anyway. Bald head or shaved head. Couldn’t say about the passenger—well, dark hair maybe.”
“Did you see their clothes at all?” It was too much to hope for.
“Huh. I was lookin’ down into the car, ‘cause the truck is high, you know. So, did I?” More breathing. “Yeah. Green shirt, on the driver. Other guy, I’d say white.”
“Jesse, you have been a great help to me. Believe it or not this is important information in a crime that we are investigating. I need you to sign a sworn statement about what you’v
e just told me. Would you be willing to do that?”
“Do I like, have to go to court?”
“Hard to say at this point, but possibly.”
“What’s the crime? Cripes, was it that body you guys found up there at the County Park?”
“It is in connection with that investigation, yes. Jesse,” I said, choosing my most authoritative voice, “I’m going to ask you to not say anything to anyone just yet about what you saw. If you do, it could compromise the investigation. Is that clear? Just for a couple of days.”
“Uh. Do I need a lawyer?”
“No, absolutely not. You are helping us, there’s no need for legal representation or to even come to the office until we have that statement ready to sign. So, can you keep it to yourself for now?”
“Yeah, sure.”
I could read his mind: first he’d tell his wife and then it would be his fishing buddies. But we’d have Rabten in jail by the afternoon. This was our probable cause.
Eli and I were both pacing the office and practically jumping out of our skins when Butch arrived. We told him about Tsewang’s sighting of Rabten and Jesse’s verification. He was gratifyingly excited but related that Tenzin remained firm on his 2 p.m. sighting of Rabten at the window.
“Well, he can’t have been in two places at once,” Eli said, “so Tenzin must have seen someone else. There’s just no way that Rabten was taking Choden out to the bus stop or something—he was driving away with the guy in his civvies. No robe. So already that there is weird, for them, right?”
I thought again about the ‘special powers.’ No way I was mentioning it. “Tenzin saw someone else. Has to be. The Subaru was gone, remember, when he was leaving at 2 p.m. So, it has to be Rabten, in the car, with Choden. He could’ve been back easily by dinner, even with his little side trip to the landfill. Butch—did the guys out there have any recollection of seeing the Subaru?”
“No, and I even had them call the entire roster of staff while I was there. But that doesn’t mean much. There’s hundreds of Subarus in this town and it was a week ago. Most people don’t pay that much attention. We’re lucky with Jesse. Really. What a break. Finally!”
