Thief in Retreat Read online

  “Isn’t that Sheriff Tom Green’s car? I knew that there was going to be a police officer here, but I expected it to be a local deputy working undercover.”

  “It was a compromise, Sister,” he said with an approving smile. “Tom’s an old friend. He just arrived a little while ago to attend a communications workshop—his cover, if you want to call it that. Although he’s out of his jurisdiction here in San Miguel County, he has agreed to help unofficially. But since the workshop is business, he’s allowed to use his duty car.”

  Ernie led her and Pax, who was leashed now and at heel, to the . carved dark pine front desk situated inside what was obviously the spacious former parlor of the monastery. Here the inn’s decorations had been kept simple, just some religious folk art in mchos, small recesses built into the whitewashed adobe walls. From what she could see, the only changes the new owners had made that were not in keeping with the former residents’ contemplative lifestyle were multiple—line phones and a concealed sound system that was currently playing classical guitar music.

  Since no one was behind the desk at the moment, Ernie checked her in himself. “Your room is very small, I’m afraid, hut it’s the only furnished one we had left. Things get crowded when we’ve got more than one workshop in session. Your dog can sleep on a small rug beside the bed, if that’s okay?“

  She nodded, knowing that Pax would sleep beside her feet on the bed. “We’re used to small. Our cells at the monastery aren’t exactly luxury suites,” she said with a smile.

  He led the way down a long hall leading past several identical doors, then stopped at the end room. There was no lock on the door, just a privacy latch. The room, with a traditional wooden viga—and—latilla ceiling and narrow, rectangular window, was indeed small. A twin bed took up nearly half of the room, and at opposite ends were a nightstand and one small four—drawer dresser. Her host set her valise and Pax’s provision bag down at the foot of the bed. “As soon as one of the bigger rooms becomes available—“

  Sister Agatha held up a hand, interrupting him. “Don’t give it another thought. For a nun, this room is practically decadent. We’ll both be fine.”

  He laughed. “Okay, Sister, whatever you say. The bathroom is across the hall. You’ll have to share with the guests in this section of the building—about three other people.”

  “That’s okay. I’m used to sharing at the monastery.”

  “That’s what we wanted here, too, you know—to keep that monastery spirit alive. Wait until you see how well our guests respond to living in a setting without locks! It brings out the best in everyone. I would have said that we had succeeded completely except…” He exhaled softly. “I hope we won’t have to change the way we operate our business.”

  “I’ll do everything I can to find the answers you need.”

  “I’ll leave you to settle in then, Sister. When you’re ready, come to the front desk and I’ll show you the library and the crates. Dinner’s not until seven, so we should have time before then.”

  “Thank you.”

  After he closed the door, she sat on the edge of the bed, noticing the extra wool blanket and the soft-looking, oversized pillow at the head of the bed. It all looked incredibly comfortable, and after the long and trying day she’d had, she was tempted to take a nap, but back at the monastery the nuns would be gathering for Vespers. Pushing back the touch of homesickness, she decided to do the liturgical hour from her room and join her sisters in spirit. She had time before her tour, and it would get her duties off on the right foot.

  After taking out Pax’s water dish, filling it from a decanter on the dresser, and giving him a bowl of kibble, she opened up her bag and searched for her breviary, something she knew Sister Bernarda would have packed. As she picked it up, Sister Agatha saw the tip of a small piece of paper protruding from the top. When she opened the soft leatherbound volume she discovered a holy card with a special prayer to Padre Pio, Sister Bernarda’s favorite saint. That particular card had come from Rome during his beatification, and it was one of Sister Bernarda’s few treasures.

  The gesture touched her deeply. Making a mental note to thank Sister Bernarda as soon as she could and to say a special prayer for her, she began her devotions. Lord make haste to help me.

  Prayerfully reading the liturgical hour in private took less time than normal, since in chapel the sisters would chant the hour. A half-hour later, she placed the breviary on the nightstand. She was here to do God’s work, and it was time to get to it.

  Pax looked up, hearing laughter in the hall, but she reassured him and he quickly put his head back down again. Certain that he had plenty of water and food in his dishes, she slipped out of the room, closing Pax in and knowing she wouldn’t have a break—in problem.

  Sister Agatha walked down the hall to the lobby area to find Ernie. Seeing four different small groups of people milling about in the great room, picking snacks and hors d’oeuvres from a large selection on a cart, the words of Thomas Merton came to her mind unbidden: “You cannot begin to do anything unless you have some idea what you’re trying to do.” But where to begin to find a thief hidden among so many?

  As she strolled over to the food cart set against the wall, Sheriff Green, wearing a sports jacket and slacks instead of his uniform, came up to greet her.

  “Ernie mentioned you were coming,” he said quietly. “Has he filled you in yet?“

  “Yes, and from what he tells me, you and I are working on the same problem.” She glanced around, checking to make sure no one was listening, but everyone else seemed absorbed in their own conversations for the moment.

  “I have a feeling we’ll make better progress if we coordinate what we’re trying to do. What do you say?“ Tom asked.

  “Sounds good to me.” Sister Agatha was eager to support anything that would hasten her return home. Poor Sister Bernarda would have her hands full with no other extern sister around to help. The sooner she could solve The Retreat’s problem, the faster she’d be able to return to her regular duties.

  “I heard that Archbishop Miera was really impressed with the help you gave the department after Father Anselm’s murder last year.”

  She smiled slowly. “Tom, you didn’t talk me up to him, did you?“

  He chuckled. “As a matter of fact I did, right after we closed the case. It was my good deed for the year.”

  “But you hated my interference from beginning to end.”

  “Sure I did. You were a pain. But after the case was closed and you went back to your monastery duties, it was easier to be magnanimous. I thought maybe they’d give you a promotion if I talked you up enough.”

  She burst out laughing. He sounded more like the young Tom she’d known while growing up than the hard-nosed sheriff she’d argued with over Father Anselm’s case. “It doesn’t quite work that way, but thanks for the thought.” Growing serious once again, she regarded her old friend for a long moment. “I understand you’ve known Ernie Luna for years, but tell me, how did you get involved in this?“

  “When Ernie went to the archbishop to tell him about the crates he’d found, he also told His Excellency that I was booked for this conference. They both asked me to help and I agreed.” He placed his empty glass of Coke on a table. “Have you had a tour of the place yet?“

  “No, I haven’t. Mr. Luna offered to show me the library before dinner, but I don’t see him around.”

  “There’s some problem in the kitchen. Ernie just announced that dinner is going to be delayed, so I’m guessing he won’t be free for a bit.” Tom motioned with his head. “Come on. I’ll give you a quick tour, including the places where the missing folk art was on display, and where some of the items Ernie suspects are counterfeit showed up. Ernie can take you to the library later.”

  He casually led her down various hallways into the rooms that had been adapted for the workshops, meals, and private meeting sites. There were a few guests wandering about, too, but no one seemed particularly interested in what
they were doing. Even so, they kept their conversation low and guarded.

  They arrived at a large dining room sometime later. “That glass curio cabinet on the opposite wall is the site of the latest theft,” Tom said. “A small retabb was kept there. It depicted three of the archangels, Michael, Raphael, and Gabriel. It wasn’t signed and didn’t fit the style of any of the well—known santeros, the artists who specialize in religious art, but it was a favorite of Virginia Luna’s, Ernie’s wife.”

  Sister Agatha examined some of the other art objects still in the cabinet. Some of the works the Lunas had on display were quite intricate and beautiful. One statue of Our Lady of Guadalupe took her breath away. The palette of blues, lavenders, and purples made it stand out from all the others, as did the gentle expression on the Virgin’s face. “Is the cabinet locked?“

  “It is, but one good tug is all it would take to unlock it.”

  “How many pieces have been taken, and how many copies have been recovered?“

  “Three have been stolen so far, two of them replaced by the thief with replicas. But another two pieces that may be counterfeit were taken by Professor Lockhart and are now missing along with the professor. You know about that, right?“

  She nodded. “There’s still no sign of him?“

  “Not that I’ve heard. The stolen retabb that came from this cabinet is the only one that didn’t have a copy put in its place. Maybe the counterfeiter needed more time, or skill.”

  “Is the missing retabb worth a great deal of money?“ she asked.

  Tom shrugged. “A great deal to you and me. Works like these are very much in demand. Fencing them wouldn’t be tough. Collectors prize them. And the items taken by the professor, if they’re originals, would probably sell for a considerable amount.”

  “Do you think all the pieces have been switched? No one’s verified that yet.”

  “I did—unofficially,” Tom said. “I brought in a friend from the Albuquerque city museum to take a look at one of the ’returned’ pieces as well as the others and he agrees with Ernie. Most are still originals, fortunately.”

  “How long have the thefts been going on, and does there seem to be a pattern to the disappearances?“

  “The thief works at night and has been very active recently. The pieces exchanged with copies are all sculptures painted with oils, which was unusual in the nineteenth century. And they resurfaced in very bizarre places—the refrigerator, and inside an old pail.”

  “I know there are no outside room locks, but is The Retreat itself locked up at night? 1 realize it’s run much like a bed and breakfast, so I’d be curious to find out if the guests are given keys to the front doors,” Sister Agatha asked.

  “If they ask for a key, I’m sure they could get one, but usually the main building is locked up from eleven P.M. to six—thirty in the morning. And to answer your next question, there’s no evidence of a break in, which would suggest that outside thieves are at work. And since The Retreat’s primary business is hosting workshops and conferences, the guests are usually in groups, which makes it harder for a thief to go unnoticed.”

  “Agreed.”

  “What complicates matters a bit is that Ernie’s not sure who was here when the first two thefts occurred. Ernie didn’t notice right away that the real items were being exchanged with reproductions. It was only after the last item was taken a week ago that Ginny realized what was going on, told Ernie, and insisted he call the archbishop.”

  “If it wasn’t for the fact that copies have replaced some of the originals, it would sound more like a prank,” Sister Agatha pointed out.

  “Yeah, more so than you know. For the last couple of days, inconsequential things have started disappearing, too, like a book, a dust mop, and a feather duster. Usually they turn up in odd places, too, so it seems like the thief is now playing hide—and—seek with the Lunas and the staff.”

  Sister Agatha considered the matter carefully. “The latest incidents may be unrelated to the thefts—perhaps the work of a copycat on staff with a grievance to air. Does Ernie have any suspects?“

  “Not for the art collection, but he does have an idea about the housekeeping items that have been disappearing, then popping up elsewhere. He thinks the culprit may be the elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Mora. She’s in her eighties and going a bit senile, I’m told.” He gestured across the room to the sturdy table holding the coffee urn. “That’s her, cleaning up a coffee spill. I suppose she might have a touch of Alzheimer’s. I’ve been told that sometimes she forgets what day it is, or will start to do something and forget what it was.”

  Sister Agatha laughed. “That could fit almost anyone over forty, and a lot of distracted children as well.” She watched Mrs. Mora for a moment as she straightened serving dishes, removed used utensils, and kept things in order. The old woman was constantly on the move and appeared to be an indefatigable worker. She reminded Sister Agatha of Sister Clothilde back at the monastery.

  “Twice now Mrs. Mora has walked out the employee entrance still holding things like candleholders and silverware.”

  “Now those can be expensive. Who caught her?“ Sister Agatha asked.

  “She realized what she’d done herself, and told Ernie when she brought the items back. That’s why he thinks it may all turn out to be perfectly innocent, and like you said, unrelated. But Ernie also knows there’s a thief playing a game with him. That’s the real problem we’re facing.”

  “So while we’re investigating we should probably also try to determine what role Mrs. Mora plays in all this. It should be relatively easy to rule her out as the thief.” Sister Agatha was suddenly glad that the police weren’t officially involved. If the elderly housekeeper was unwittingly taking things, the police could do a lot more harm than good.

  “Were you told about the college’s folk art museum, and the Church’s decision to donate the collection to them? Ernie, by arrangement with the diocese, has already scheduled a special ceremony a month from now. That’s when The Retreat will officially hand over the folk art.”

  “Not all of the remaining pieces are behind lock and key, are they? I saw some that looked unprotected in the lobby.”

  “You’re right, Sister. Ernie still has several openly displayed in the main lobby. They’re in a very public place and there’s always someone around there, so they should be safe enough.”

  “Unless the thief gets lucky and can pull off a switch,” she countered. She followed him to the lobby, admiring the great grandfather clock against the north wall. The chimes were deep and resonant, reminding her of the bells back home that called the sisters to prayer. These days monasteries often had electronic chimes, but they were lucky enough to have the real thing at Our Lady of Hope.

  Tom took her to a nicho set into the south wall and called her attention to the bulto nestled in it that was slated for donation to the museum.

  The bulto, constructed in plaster and wood and then painted, showed St. Joseph and the Blessed Mother each holding one hand of the Christ child, who stood between them. The figures looked primitive but the attention to detail, like the little designs on the Virgin’s shawl, made it an unusually fine piece of work. “It’s beautiful.”

  “Now let me show you a piece that is always kept in a securely locked cabinet. It’s going to stay with the community because of its historical and spiritual value.” He led her out of the lobby and through a series of narrow halls. Nichos containing folk art or hide paintings and illuminated by small lights were located in several places, and Tom pointed them out to her as they walked by.

  After passing through a small maze of left and right turns, they came to an arched passageway. Tom stopped before she could see what lay beyond. To the left of the arch was a stained oak display case. The framed glass front of the case was hinged and fastened with a small but sturdy-looking padlock and brass hasp. “This is Our Lady of Sorrows. A local legend claims that when this bulto was placed before rising floodwaters one particularly wet sprin
g, the waters subsided, saving the town from a disaster. The Church hasn’t sanctioned it as a miracle, but you know how that goes. The locals are convinced that the statue made the difference, and for them that’s enough.”

  Sister Agatha nodded, studying the ten—inch bulto. “The faithful often have their own ideas about what constitutes a miracle.”

  “As far as artwork goes, this statue is especially valued, according to Ernie Luna, and he knows for certain it’s not a reproduction. It’s a rare type of construction known as ’hollow skirt.’ The lower half of her dress was framed by wooden sticks covered with a cloth dipped in plaster of paris and glue. When it dried, it became a smooth, hard surface which the artist could paint,” Tom said.

  “The earth—tone colors seem to flow into each other,” Sister Agatha commented. “And look at that little rosary in her hand. And her crown! Someone put a lot of love into this.”

  “Ernie said that over the years many smaller miracles have been attributed to this statue. Local stories also claim that every time the little statue was loaned out for display elsewhere, she’d disappear, no matter how good the security surrounding her was. The next morning she’d turn up back here as if nothing had ever happened. People believe that the little Virgin wants to stay here, so she has. Ernie said that the archbishop has placed it on permanent loan. It won’t end up in the museum with the rest.”

  “Shouldn’t Ernie put all the really valuable art in secure cabinets like this one, at least for now?“

  “I asked and he told me that there are a lot of excellent motels and hotels around that display tourist-type folk art. What sets his place apart is the high—class atmosphere that comes from openly exhibiting fine pieces like these. More importantly, locking things away implies that he can’t trust his guests or staff, and that’s not good for business. He charges top dollar, and rumors of security problems could ruin him. Mind you, if we can’t solve the theft problem quickly, he’ll have to do whatever’s necessary to protect the artwork under his care. The Church will insist.”