“Am I under suspicion of something, detective?”
“Just trying to get acquainted.”
Darius smiled but his face told Curran he wasn’t buying it. “I was over in Saudi Arabia for a few years. I’m sure you can appreciate the transient nature of my business. I go where I can find and sell items of age. The products and clients dictate my location.”
“You do have a very traveled air about you.” Curran pointed to the nearest dagger. “What’s the history of that piece?”
“It’s a tanto. Japanese. It dates back to the 1400s, what was known as the Sengoku Jidai — the warring states period. Awfully bloody time to be alive back then. Most of the country was torn apart by civil strife. Feuding families, samurai warriors, all that lot.”
“You live around here?”
“No, just the store is here. I bought it at quite a nice price from the previous owner. But I reside elsewhere.”
Curran said nothing so Darius continued. “In Chestnut Hill.”
Curran nodded. Chestnut Hill had its fair share of wealth. Not too much, but not exactly the poor section of town, either.
“Way I figure it,” he said then, “someone must have dropped that button during the crime. I’d sure like to find the owner.”
Darius smiled. “Presumably, the owner would like to have this button back as well.”
“Exactly.” Curran pulled out a business card and slid it across the counter. “Do me a favor, will you and keep an eye out for anyone who comes asking for a replacement?”
“You really think they’ll expect it to turn up in some place like my store?”
Curran shrugged. “In this business, you never know what to expect. The strangest things happen all the time.”
Darius handed him back the button. “In that case, consider me your eyes and ears.”
“Thank you.” Curran turned and started to leave. He stopped. “Mr. Assiniya?”
“Yes?”
“You don’t have your coat handy by any chance do you?”
Darius’ teeth flashed again. “I’m getting worried you suspect me of something, detective.”
“You seem to know an awful lot about human bones.”
“No more so than any other antiques dealer.”
“Actually, you’re the best so far. I’ve been to fifteen other shops today.”
“I’m surprised by that.” Darius turned and started for the back room. He stopped and looked back. “It’s all right, is it — if I get my coat for you, I mean?”
“Sure.”
He returned a second later with a gray herringbone overcoat that looked like something Sherlock Holmes would have worn. Not the big black overcoat that Lauren had described. And as Curran examined it, he could see it was missing no buttons.
He handed it back. “Thanks for putting my mind at ease.”
“Not at all. Good day, detective.”
Curran nodded and walked out of the shop. Back into the cold November air.
Back to the hunt.
Chapter Seventeen
“You understand why it is that I asked you to come in here this morning?”
Lauren sat in Sister McDewey’s office, although this time, it didn’t seem nearly so cozy as it had on other occasions. Even the nun’s demeanor had changed from tepid to almost hostile. The look she regarded Lauren with almost shook Lauren to her core.
“You have some questions. I’ll do my best to answer them.”
Sister McDewey steepled her fingers. “Right now, what concerns us most is the disappearance of not one, but two of our nuns. Sister Donovan, granted, was not long for the earth. But Sister Mary was young. She had years ahead of her. And now both of them have vanished. No trace. No note. Nothing.”
Lauren tried to keep her face from revealing anything. “You’ve spoken with the police?”
“They told me there were no bodies at the residence. Despite the fact that you claimed seeing both of them dead.” Sister McDewey sighed. “All of which leaves me feeling very perplexed.” She shifted in her chair. “On one hand, we could endeavor to find some degree of foul play. But without bodies, the police aren’t apt to look into it all that much.”
“There were bodies,” said Lauren quietly.
“And yet, you were the last person presumably to inquire about Sister Donovan and her whereabouts. You understand how unusual this whole thing looks?”
You ought to see it from my perspective, thought Lauren. She nodded. “Absolutely.”
“So, what I’m asking you right now is to tell me what exactly is going on here.”
Lauren cleared her throat. “I don’t know exactly.”
Sister McDewey shook her head. “That’s not the answer I was looking for.”
“It’s the truth.” She sighed. “My brother was killed a week or so back.”
“You told me that.”
“The killer, apparently, is known to a detective on the police force.”
“Again, I believe we covered this ground already.”
“I’m getting to the point, Sister,” said Lauren. She wanted to say, now just shut up! “When this detective was with the FBI, he ran into the killer several times. Or I should say, the killer’s handiwork.”
“He never caught the killer?”
“No.”
“Not much of an FBI agent was he?”
Lauren frowned. She didn’t like hearing dispersions cast about Steve. “I’m sure he worked very hard to find him. But it didn’t pan out.”
“What does the death of your brother have to do with two missing nuns?”
“The cases are connected. I feel very strongly about that.”
“Specifically?”
Lauren took a breath. “The killer seems to be…supernatural.”
Sister McDewey’s eyebrows shot up. “Pardon?”
“Supernatural. I know how crazy that must sound, but it’s true. At least as near as we can figure.”
“We?”
“I’ve been working with the detective.”
Sister McDewey leaned forward. “Aren’t you supposed to be studying right now?”
“Surely the death of one’s family can take some degree of precedence over academics, even for just a short time.”
“That’s your decision.”
“All the victims — “
“How many are there?”
“They’ve spanned a number of years across a variety of states.”
Sister McDewey leaned back. “Go on.”
“All of the victims were killed in the same manner. But their bodies showed no signs of death — that is to say no signs of foul play. Each one seemed the picture of health, and yet, the were killed.”
“This is sounding a bit unusual, Lauren.”
“I agree. It sounds insane. But it’s not. Remember when I visited you earlier this week asking about research material?”
“You were asking about a reverse laying of hands. I remember that.”
“I asked you if there was a way to look into it — some kind of special library that might aid me in my search.”
“And I told you to forget about it.” Sister McDewey’s eyes narrowed. “But I can see it did no good trying to steer you away from that.” She sighed. “You found the library, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“You know you’re out of your league here?”
Lauren didn’t think the Devil played by any organized rules, but didn’t say so. “I don’t know that. I know I was able to find out some very interesting things.”
“Such as?”
“I read about something called a Soul Eater.”
“Soul-“ Sister McDewey sighed again. “Lauren, listen to yourself. Don’t you realize that the problem with historical texts is the inability on our part to accurately verify what might be truth and what might have been simply written to help persuade the local populace of the power of Christianity? That’s exactly why I told you not to go nosing around. The babbling of some intoxicated monk writing with ink and quill could very easily distort the logical mind.”
“So you don’t believe in any of what is stored in that special room within the library?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I wish I had the courage to disavow it.” Lauren shook her head. “But I know what I read and how I’ve been feeling lately. Something is definitely happening. Whether or not we want to believe it.”