MASS MURDER (27 page)

“How are you feeling?” Father Damian’s voice
finally
cut through the haze of pain.

Giorgio lifted both eyelids this time, but it was a moment before he recognized the monk who peered down at him.
A young, anxious monk stood behind him
and Grosvner’s head
under his forearm
, leaving patches of drool on his leather jacket.

“Like Hell!” Giorgio groused,
squinting at the bright light.

The pained expression on
the abbot
’s face made
Giorgio rephrase his response.

“Like a building fell on me.”

“You need to relax.
I’m afraid you
’ve been injured.”

Giorgio managed a quizzical look.
“I think you mean attacked.”

Father Damian exchanged a glance with the other monk, his generous brows scrunched in confusion.
“I’m not sure what you mean.
Who would attack you?”

Giorgio was beginning to regain full consciousness and lifted himself up, dislodging Grosvner’s head.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” he choked out, holding his hand to the back of his head.
His head was throbbing, making his skull vibrate.
“I was hit from b
ehind, by something very hard.”

Father Damian’s face betrayed his confusion
.
Giorgio was quick to explain.

“I came to the monastery unannounced tonight.
I saw two people meet out in the garden.
I followed one of them back to the stairwell and was hit from behind.
Whoever it was must have been hiding under the stairs
.”
He gave the monk a wry look.
“Did you ever think
of putting lights back there?”

Father Damian looked startled.
“We
…
uh
…
implemented some cost saving measures last year since none of the monks go out after dark.
I use a small flashlight when I go to my quarters.”

Giorgio smirked at the absurdity of
his
comments and swung his legs around to sit up. “Well, you may be accommoda
ting a murderer
.
Not to mention a number of monks who seem to have private business of their own outside after dark.”

“Now, just a minute, Detective,”
the abbot
erupted, but Giorgio waved him off with one hand, holding th
e cold compress with the other.

“Forget it.
It doesn’t matter now.
But I must tell you that it was a monk I followed back to the building.”

Father Damian’s eyes grew wide.
“Do you mean to tell me you think
…
?”

Giorgio cut him off again.
“And, it was a monk who hit me on the back of the head.”

“That’s impossible,” the younger monk cut in.
“No one here would do that.”

“This is Brother Daniel,” Father Damian introduced the young man.

Giorgio looked up at the monk he’d only seen briefly the night before.
“God mov
es in mysterious ways, Father.”

Giorgio stood up leaning heavily on the arm of the settee.
Father Damian reached out a hand to steady him.

“What do you intend to do?”

“Ask a lot of questions.
Beginning with
-
- how did you know I was in the stairwell?”

“The dog,” he said bluntly.
“H
e was standing at the back door
howling.”

Giorgio looked down at Grosvner’s somber brown eyes wondering for the first time how Grosvner had escaped from the car.
Then he remembered the broken door handle.

“Well, I need to talk with the caterers.”

Giorgio walked with
halting steps toward the door.

“Why are
you going to see the caterers?”

Father Daniel hurried to open the door.
He left the two men exchanging confused looks and traversed the distance between Father Damian’s office and the kitchen, still un
steady on his feet
.
When he reached the doorway to the kitchen, he saw Mary Fields at the far counter packing away food.
Grosvner went and politely sat at her feet, probably waiting for something to fall his way.
Giorgio leaned against the door jam.

“You’re here late
tonight,” Giorgio said weakly.

Fields turned. She
saw the dog first and looked surprised.
When she saw
Giorgio’s ashen face and the towel held to the back
of his head, she came forward.

“Are you all right, Detective?
You look awful.”

“I’ve had an accident,” he lied, bringing the towel forward.
There was a small amount of blood nestled in the center
of it
.
He quickly folded the towel in half.
“Maybe you have some ice.”

She went to a large, stainless steel refrigerator and opened up the freezer compartment.

“I was wondering if either one of your servers
are
here tonight?” Giorgio asked.

“Yes, both Colin and Peter were here, but they just left,” Fields said, returning with some ice.
She wrapped it in the towel.
“Peter had a date
,
and Colin had already asked if he could leave early.
Why?”

Giorgio grunted. “Did either Peter or Colin go outside tonight?”

She looked at him with a perplexed expression. “Actually, I think they both did.
Colin almost always goes out for a cigarette.
And Peter went to the garden.”

“He went to the garden?”

“Like I said, he had a date and wanted to take her some flowers.
Is that a problem?”

“I think it was tonight.
I just don’t know for which one.
Tell me, does Colin go out for his cigarette
at the same time every night?”

“About the same time I guess.
I never thought about it before.”

“It is the same time every night,” Nancy interrupted.
She had come over from the sink and held a dishtowel in her hand. “I’ve noticed it.”
The fluttering in her voice had disappeared.
“He always goes out right after the main course has been served.
So, if it’s not the same exact time, it’s
at
the same point in our routine.”

Giorgio turned his attention on Mary’s partner.
“How long is he gone?”

“
Maybe five
minutes,”
she replied
.

“Does he come back with anything?”

They both stopped to
think, then shook their heads.

“No,” Mary said.
“I don’t think so, but he always wears his leather jacket.
We’ve teased him about it because he comes in with his hand stuffed inside his pockets like he’s cold, even in warm weather.
I don’t understand, Detective.
Are either
one of them
in some kind of trouble?”

“I’m not sure.
No one else came through here in the last half hour?”
Both women shook their heads.
“What about the bartenders?
Were they the same ones as last night?”

“No,” Mary was quick to respond.
“As I said, I contract for them through another agency.
I often get guys I don’t know.”
She peered at him closely, her dark brown eyes softening.
“I can get you more ice, Detective.”

“No, I’m headed home.
Thank you.”

Giorgio returned to the main lobby thinking that Anya Peters may have thrown him a red herring by mentioning the bartender with the dark eyes and earring.
Grosvner sauntered after him as he went to Father Damian’s office.
Father Damian was gone, so Giorgio turned the corner into the main hallway thinking he’d go to the outside bungalow, but stopped when he saw a light in Anya Peter’s office.
He knocked softly and heard a voice say, “Come in
.”
Ms. Peters was at her
desk reviewing some paperwork.

“Working late?” he inquired.

She looked up, her face illuminated by the harsh light of her desk lamp, her demeanor as repellent as always.

“I’m afraid with everything that’s
happened, I’ve fallen behind.”

Grosvner lumbered over for some attention.

“Is this your dog, Detective?” Her eyes blazed as she pushed her chair away from Grosvner’s long snout.

“Yes.
He helped me out of a difficult situation tonight.”

“Oh, yes,” she said, her eyes riveted on the dog.
“Father Damian stopped in.”

She seemed to have little sympathy for Giorgio’s predicament.
Instead, she was preoccupied with Grosvner, who
was
sniffing at her ankles.
Clearly, she wasn’t a dog person.

“He must like your perfume,” Giorgio quipped, stepping around the desk.
“Grosvner!” he commanded.

The hound turned his head so quickly one long ear slapped him in the face.
Giorgio took him by the collar and pushed him into the hallway and closed the door.

“You didn’t see anything unusual tonight, I suppose?” he said, stepping back into the
room.

Anya Peters had drawn her legs back under her desk and attempted to resume her work.
She responded to h
is question without looking up.

“Of course not, Detective.
I’ve been in here, working.
Now if you’ll excuse me.”

It probably wasn’t the truth, but Giorgio wasn’t up to sparring.
He needed to go home and lie down.
He said a curt goodnight and made his way to the car where he found the passenger door open.
With a sidelong glance at Grosvner, he helped the dog into the car before getting in himself.

Before turning the key, his eyes drifted up to the big building.
Something was obviously going on
up there
after dark.
But how was it all connected?
Giorgio believed Olsen had been killed in her own room.
Yet, how was she transported to the
kitchen
closet without being seen?
Giorgio had followed a monk into the stairwell tonight and then lost him.
Yet, he was sure it was the monk who had assaulted him.
Why?
And where had the monk been hidden?
Details.
Details.