Chapter 27
Meanwhile, he had a sheriff and some police officers to talk to. He returned to the sheriff’s office at the appointed time and was ushered into a conference room.
“Father Armagh,” said Colcord, far more warmly than before, “thank you for coming back. I do apologize for, well, not taking you as seriously as I should have. This is a high--profile case, and we’ve been deluged with unreliable witnesses.”
“Quite understandable. I’m glad it worked out. And it’s Brother Armagh—-I’m not an ordained priest.”
“Oh, I see. I’d like to introduce you to Agent Frances Cash of the Colorado Bureau of Investigation. She’s in charge of the investigation.”
“Thank you,” said Agent Cash, standing up and giving his hand a good firm shake.
She looked like a no--nonsense woman, obviously capable, perhaps even formidable.
“Brother Armagh,” she said, “the sheriff explained in brief your mission here. I want to assure you we’re here to help you and the church recover the relic that Mr. Castillo seems to have stolen and to solve his murder.
To do that most effectively, would you be willing to answer some questions? ”
“Of course.”
“May we tape the conversation?” She held out her cell phone.
Armagh hesitated. “The Holy Father,” he said, “was hoping to avoid publicity and a potential scandal.”
“And so are we,” said Cash. “Most definitely.” She put the cell phone away and took out a notepad and pencil. “Better?”
“Thank you.”
“We’ll do everything in our power to keep this confidential,” the woman said. “But there could be a connection between the Castillo homicide and this theft. So any information you can give us will benefit us both—-you in recovering the relic and us in solving the case.”
Armagh nodded.
After going through some preliminaries, the woman asked, “Can you please tell us about the theft, when it took place, how it was done, and how you identified Mr. Castillo as the thief?”
“Gladly. Our order of the Irish Pallottines serves the Basilica of San Silvestro in Rome, and we are custodians of its relics. We have a long history there, going back centuries.”
Cash nodded.
He held up his phone with a wry smile. “Ready for that security footage now?”
“Yes.”
Armagh showed it to them, while filling them in about the details of the crime.
“Tell me,” said Cash when the video ended. “How was he able to bypass the alarm system?”
“The fellow had an accomplice, a man named Silva, who knew exactly what to do and supplied him with specialized equipment. He had a device that he plugged into the same circuit that serviced the alarm on the relic, tripping the circuit breakers. Unfortunately, the alarm wasn’t set up to go off during a power failure. ”
“No backup battery?”
“No. I’m afraid, Agent Cash, that we weren’t as sophisticated as we should have been.
Anyway, he then went into the chapel, stood on a bench, used a handheld cutting tool to open the seam around its base and lift it.
With another fitting on the same power tool, he cut out a piece of the skull and put it in a glass tube, sealing it.
He then carefully fixed up the relic and replaced the cube on top, trying to make it look undisturbed. ”
“When you say ‘carefully,’ ” Cash asked, “did it seem he was trying to cover up evidence of the disturbance?”
“Definitely so. I’ve seen the videotape, and he was clearly trying to make everything look as it did before, hoping the theft wouldn’t be noticed.”
“But it was noticed.”
“Thanks to one of our eagle--eyed brothers, who prayed to the relic every morning.”
“So how did Castillo exit the church with his relic?”
“He went back into hiding, and as soon as the church opened that morning, he mingled with the visitors and walked out.”
“And the accomplice, Silva?”
“He vanished completely. We tried to find him—-and believe me, the Vatican knows how to find people.”
“How did you identify Castillo and track him down?”
“Rome is blanketed in CCTV cameras these days. We were able to trace him from the church to his pensione and back. In Italy, you have to show a passport to check into a hotel. It was forged. But by tracing his movements from the pensione to the airport, we were able to establish his real identity, because he flew in on a real passport in his real name.”
“And you think Castillo still has, or rather had, the relic?”
“We do. While we can’t know for sure, from all we can tell, he didn’t pass it along to anyone.”
Now Cash leaned on her elbows and gave him a searching look. “Do you or the church have any idea of his motive?”
Armagh spread his hands. “At first, we thought it might have something to do with a dispute about the authenticity of the relic. There are four churches that claim to have relics of Saint John, and perhaps this was an attempt to prove our relic was bogus, or the opposite.”
“And how would they prove that?”
“By scientifically dating it, for example, to see if it really was two thousand years old. Or testing the bone to see if it was human. But then I found out that Javier Castillo was Jewish. That seemed to rule out an internal Catholic dispute or conspiracy.”
“Castillo was Jewish?”
“Yes. At least, that’s what the Vatican investigation established.”
At this, Cash made a note. “Any other theories?”
“All I have are guesses.”
“So tell us, Brother, how did you become involved?”
“The Holy Father was consulted, and he wished to avoid publicity by sending someone to track down Mr. Castillo and see if he could be persuaded to give back the relic. I was that person, because I’d worked for years in prison ministries in Chicago.
So I flew to San Francisco, I learned he had come to Colorado, I followed him out here—-and then, of course, I found he’d been murdered. ”
“How were you planning to persuade him?” Cash asked.
“I was going to threaten him with criminal prosecution.”
“You weren’t going to appeal to his better nature?”
At this, Brother Armagh chuckled. “During my years in Chicago, I quickly discovered that appealing to someone’s ‘better nature’ rarely works. I was going to take a strong line with Castillo. He was a wealthy man with a great deal to lose.”
“Up to threatening him with actual violence?”
“Agent Cash! Of course not. We are a peaceable, pious, and pacifist order. I resent the implication.”
“Apologies,” said the woman, not sounding apologetic at all.
After a short silence, the sheriff, who had been silent, cleared his throat. “Brother Armagh, I have a few questions.”
“Yes, Sheriff?”
“Is it possible the killing might have been in retaliation for the theft and desecration of the relic?”
“I greatly doubt it. Nobody knows about the theft beyond a small circle in Rome—-the Pallottine Brothers, the Holy Father, Cardinal Collini, a few others. There are no murderers in our midst, I can assure you. And once again, I must protest the implication that any of us would be involved in murder.”
“I’m sorry, Brother, but it’s our job to ask offensive questions.”
“I realize that, Sheriff, but to think that one of us is a murderer … Impossible.”
“Having worked in a prison ministry,” said the sheriff mildly, “perhaps you’ve learned that anyone might be capable of murder, given the right circumstances?”
At this, Armagh colored. The sheriff, of course, was right. “I see your point.”
The sheriff looked at Cash. “Any more questions?”
“Not at the moment.”
“I have a question for you, if I may,” said Armagh. “I would love to know if you have any leads as to where the relic might be.”
“Not yet,” said the sheriff, “but we’re on it.
We’re liaising with the San Francisco police and are getting a warrant to search his apartment.
We’ve searched his luggage and hotel room here, with no success.
Of course, it may be those who murdered him took it.
Or that he did, in fact, deliver it to someone else.
We’ve been trying to piece together his movements before his death. ”
“You will let me know your progress?”
“Absolutely, Brother. You will certainly be kept abreast of our investigation.”
Cash spoke. “How long do you plan to stay?”
“I‘ll not be returning home until I have the missing piece in my possession,” he said firmly. “If it takes the rest of my life.”