Lost and Found in Prague by Kelly Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

and statuary.”
    Valuable statuary
,
indeed,
Giovanni thought. The world-famous Infant of Prague, here in this tiny church in the Czech Republic.
    “When I approached the Infant’s altar, there she lay.” Visible sweat beaded on the man’s brow.
    “Who?”
    “Sister Claire.” He pressed his fingers to his forehead. “She was ninety-two. She accepted her vocation at an early age. She knew no life other than one of service to the Church, to our Lord.”
    As you, my friend,
Giovanni thought, but said nothing to interrupt.
    “I was unaware,” Beppe continued, “though the prioress knew she often rose in the night. I’m not sure she knew . . . well, until . . . that at times she might have left the convent. Sister Claire was always in attendance for early-morning chapel. She tended the altars. I learned recently that this might have transpired at odd hours. I play no role in overseeing these duties. I leave it to the prioress to set the schedule and supervise the nuns.”
    “Were the altars not stripped for Good Friday?”
    “She suffered from the ailments of age . . . her memory. Often confused.” Again his hand rose to his head, a tap to indicate the demented workings of the old woman’s mind.
    “You found her in the church? Lying at the altar? Dead?”
    Beppe took in a deep breath, eyes closed. “Sister Claire passed in the church.” His eyes shot open and met Giovanni’s. “The circumstances of her death are suspect.”
    “You called the authorities?”
    “Why, yes, of course.” The priest’s eyes narrowed.
    “The circumstances of her death?” Giovanni asked, repeating Beppe’s words.
    “A gash, a cut across her face.”
    “Murdered?” Was this why his friend had called? Did he wish Giovanni to investigate a murder? His heart pounded at the thought. He had substantial investigative experience, but he had never been called upon to investigate a murder.
    “She was still alive, though barely. I suspect she was waiting for me. For a last anointing. She passed in my arms, took her last breath as I prayed to the sweet Infant Savior.”
    “There was nothing missing from the church?” Giovanni asked. “Is this correct?”
    “The investigator went through the church with me to make sure nothing was taken.” His voice grew quiet.
    “Any damage?”
    “No damage,” Beppe replied tentatively. He stared down at the table and then looked up. Giovanni noticed a twitch in his friend’s eye, a blink. His hand trembled as he placed it flat on the table. He covered it with his other hand, perhaps attempting to quiet the tremor.
    “Is there anyone who would have motive to murder this elderly nun?”
    “She had no enemies,” Father Ruffino replied. “Few acquaintances other than the nuns with whom she lived. No remaining family.”
    “There is an ongoing investigation? Why have you called me?”
    Father Ruffino ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Because of your investigative skills, I . . .”
    “The police?”
    Beppe shook his head dismissively. “The Czech police . . .”
    “She was stabbed? A knife?”
    “The weapon, perhaps her own garden shears. We keep them here in the church for the nuns to tend to the altar arrangements.”
    “When you arrived did
you
see anything unusual?” Father Borelli asked.
    Father Ruffino shook his head.
    “Nothing on the surveillance cameras? The alarms?”
    “The alarms had been turned off. By whom I’m not sure.” Father Ruffino’s voice quivered, and Giovanni sensed he might carry a burden of guilt upon his own trembling shoulders over the nun’s death. “The cameras . . . we are hoping to set up a new digital system. The equipment is old. Not trustworthy.” He shook his head, and Giovanni understood there was nothing recorded to help with the investigation.
    Giovanni placed his hand on the arm of his fellow priest. This normally calm man, who had always put his fate in the hands of the Lord, was shivering, running his fingers