Authors: LYNN BOHART
When Giorgio reached the top of the hill, the d
im lights
from
the two cottages were barely visible on the eastside of the property.
He glanced down to the
main
building
wondering if the light over the back door had been purposely eliminated the night of the mu
rder
.
He used an intersecting path to cross over the top of the hillside,
moving towards
the abbot
’s cottage.
The path wound around a
vegetable garden and a
sagging,
dilapidated shed
that resembled Quasimodo in the dark
.
T
he
foothills just beyond
the vegetable garden had been blotted out
as if someone had drawn a bla
ck curtain across the façade.
Giorgio stuffed his hands into his pockets
. Why was he here? Did he think he would
actually learn
something
relevant to the case
,
or was
he
really just avoiding Angie
?
He stood gazing into the shadows
trying to focus on
the
murder.
If
the body
had
been disguised
somehow
, the killer may have
been able to bring
her
through the lobby
and
then
down
the back hallway
to the back door
without
raising questions
.
That would mean Poindexter could have been telling the truth when he said he saw someone moving along the
outside
path towards the kitchen.
From the second story window
however
, it would have been impossible to identify anything more than a human shadow.
In this scena
rio though
, the killer would have had to slip past the
bartenders
twice
−
once on the way
up
to Olsen’s room and once on the way
down
.
Giorgio couldn’t think of any way to disguise a dead body without calling attention to it, yet no one had seen anything s
uspicious.
The soft thud of a door closing interrupted his thoughts
,
and he
squinted
into the mist.
A
dark shadow flitted across his field of vision.
Was this another monk catching a smoke?
A
second noise made
him
snap
his head
to his right
.
Emerging from the kitchen, h
e caught
the
fleeting
glimpse of a
second f
igure
heading into the garden
.
Had he caught two individuals sneaking out at the same time?
What were the odds of that?
His peripheral vision picked up
the
first
shadow moving
up the hill in the direction of the flower garden
.
I
f the two figures were planning to meet, he wanted to be there when they did.
He
and cut down the hill at a right angle as quietly as possible hoping the music from inside the building would cover his descent.
T
he ground sloped sharply
,
so that twice he almost met with disaster.
He’d just tucked himself safely behind the
shrine at the north end of the garden when t
he soft creak of a gate
at the south end made him turn in that direction
.
Someone had entered the garden.
Before he could move, a
shadowy
figure appear
ed from behind a tree
to his left
, gliding
through the bushes in his direction
.
Giorgio was situated to one side of the shrine, near a gate in the wall.
He quickly backed behind a tree.
T
he figure
appeared out of the mist and silently
disappear
ed
through the gate, his
face
obscured by a monk’s
hood.
Giorgio moved
to the gate
with caution.
He
was right behind the shrine now and
didn’t dare go
through the gate.
There
was a large
,
open lawn just i
n front of the shrine, which would leave him without cover
.
Instead, he planted his feet in a small ditch and leaned against the
short
cement
wall
while he listened.
H
arsh whisper
s
reached him from the other side
of the shrine
, but the music
eliminated any hope of decoding
what was
spoken.
He was just about to chance a closer inspection when the robed figure suddenly reappeared
,
forci
ng him to melt into the shadows.
The figure stepped through the gate,
leaving the path again and striking out through the undergrowth.
Making a quick decision, Giorgio fell in behind the retreating figure of the monk, assum
ing the second individual
was
one of the caterers.
Keeping to a safe distance, he followed the monk
down the hill
.
The
monk
paused
at the back door
, making
Giorgio duck behind the statue of the Virgin Mary
.
P
eeking through her elbow
, h
e could just make out the shoulders of the dark figure
. T
he monk
turn
ed
in his direction
as if listening
.
A moment later, the monk
stepped into the
build
ing.
Giorgio was at the door an instant later.
Although the door had to be fifty years old, the knob turned without sound, a point he
’d
failed to notice that afternoon.
He slipped inside the
empty
stairwell shutting out the penetrating m
ist.
Giorgio darte
d over to the staircase
and glanced up to the top stairs
leading to the monks
’
quarters
.
H
e stopped to listen, trying to discern which way the illusive figure might have gone
.
T
here was only silence.
He
poked his head into
the richly carpeted hallway that led to the chapel and then circled back into the stairwell to peer down the back hallway
.
N
either hallway offered the
visage of a retreating figure.
Returning to the back door, he pau
sed, feeling he’d lost his edge
.
How could someone disappear so quickly?
T
he bell tower began to chime the hour filling the small enclosure with a jarring clang.
By the time Giorgio detected the soft rustle of cloth behind him, it was too late.
Something smashed the back of his skull, sending a searing pain through
to his eyeballs
.
His knees buckled and he
collapsed
onto the cold cement floor.
As darkness invaded
his mind
, he was only barely aware of a door scraping closed
somewhere
behind him.
Chapter Eighteen
The unearthly shadows of four hooded men circled a splashing fountain like witches circling a simmering brew.
A young boy stood off to the side, his face veiled in shadow.
Giorgio crouched before the boy, his gun ready to fire, but there were no bullets housed in the chamber.
As he shook the gun wondering where the bullets had gone, a guttural wail pierced the darkness, scattering the hooded men like beetles.
The horrifying sound trailed off and the boy’s image evaporated
.
Suddenly,
s
omething wet slid across
the back of his hand
making him recoil
as if a rat had skittered
across his skin
.
He tried to open his eyes, but they were glued shut.
Then, a gruff voice said, “Let’s get him off t
he ground.
”
R
ough hands
pulled him to his feet
and moved
him forward
. All he could do was
shuffle
helplessly along.
Finally, a light appeared through the darkness.
“Put him on
the sofa,” the same voice said.
Red material swam into view
,
and his body sagged down.
Someone lifted h
is feet
allowing his head to fall back onto a soft pillow.
S
omething wet slid across his cheek
,
and he opened one eyelid, flinching when a black mass appeared only inches from his face.
There was a high-pitched whine
,
and then
his arm was buffeted as if someone wanted to stuff
something
underneath it
.
Eventually
, someone placed a cool towel under his head where he felt a painful knot on his scalp.