Brother Armagh now had his full attention. “Never heard of this collection. What kind of memorabilia?”
“Mostly framed documents and letters, heretical manifestos, some antique crucifixes and old surplices.”
“Anything like… a Spanish boot?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what that is.”
“An iron device shaped like a boot, used by the Spanish Inquisition to torture heretics.”
“Oh goodness! Well…” He hesitated. “I can’t say that for sure, because now that I think about it, there were some odd-looking contraptions in a corner.”
“Such as?”
“He didn’t show me those, but I seem to recall a chair and some other things.… I suppose an iron boot could have been among the assortment. I just can’t say. It was rather dim.”
Colcord could hardly believe what he was hearing. “Anything else that stood out?”
“Nothing particular beyond the Latin Mass and so forth, but these are rather commonplace ideas, Sheriff. Many in the church hold conservative views—especially here in America. In Rome, we’re perhaps a little less doctrinaire.”
Colcord could tell Brother Armagh was downplaying Moore’s ideas. Regardless, he had heard enough, and now he needed to get a warrant to take a look at those “odd-looking contraptions.”
“Thank you, Brother Armagh.” Colcord rose. “I’ll speak to CBI and see what I can do about getting the relic back into your hands as soon as possible. In the meantime, I can assure you it’s under lock and key and being handled with the greatest respect and care.” He began to usher him out the door.
Brother Armagh smiled and nodded, his large frame taking up the entire doorway. “Grazie mille,” he said, holding out a big hand.
Colcord shook it and snagged a deputy to accompany Brother Armagh out.
The search warrant took thirty minutes to write and send off via email. Fifteen minutes later, Colcord’s cell phone rang, and he saw it was Judge Greenberg.
If the judge was calling instead of signing the warrant, it couldn’t be good.
“Sheriff Colcord!” Judge Greenberg said in greeting.
“Good afternoon, Your Honor. I imagine you’re calling about the warrant.”
“Yes. I have some concerns,” he said.
“What about?”
“You want to search the catacombs below Father Moore’s parish church, looking for antique torture implements used by the Inquisition? Have I got that right?” His voice, loaded with skepticism, trailed off.
Colcord gritted his teeth. Of course Judge Greenberg would be concerned about the optics, but this was a problem they didn’t have the time for right now. Father Moore could be getting rid of the evidence in that very moment. “Your Honor, I know it sounds a little crazy, but the explanation is all there in the warrant. It’s of critical importance to the investigation that we search the church before Father Moore disposes of the evidence.”
“I understand that. However, my name will be attached to this warrant once it’s approved. I want to make sure we’ve got all our ducks in a row, so to speak. This warrant will be scrutinized by half the news networks in the country.”
“Yes, of course, Your Honor. Just tell me what I need to do to get this approved.”
“Simply put, I need more evidence.Realevidence. I can’t sign a warrant to search a church on hearsay. Your affidavit needs more details on probable cause. So—what else can you tell me?”
Sheriff Colcord ran his fingers through what was left of his hair in frustration. His affidavit was five pages long, and he had included all of the details he could think of. But Judge Greenberg was both cautious and political. Colcord glanced at the clock on the wall of his office. Would Brother Armagh mention to Father Moore he had been to the sheriff’s office? Had Brother Armagh been followed by Father Moore or seen by one of his people? If either was true, the evidence—if any—could already be gone. Hehadto get this warrant.
“You Honor—with all due respect, I believe there to be more than enough probable cause, and it’s all there in the affidavit. The victims were tortured with a Spanish boot used by the Inquisition. Father Moore proclaimed to a credible witness that the Inquisition needed to be brought back in modern times. Antiques that appear to resemble our torture devices relevant to our case were seen in the basement of the church. Furthermore, the two Catholic victims were given the viaticum before they died. All the evidence points to the murders having a religious component. He has a church basement full of Inquisition memorabilia. Even his fellow priest, Brother Armagh, was suspicious of him! What more do you need?”
Colcord brought himself up short, realizing he was getting loud and might have gone a little too far.
There was a long silence on the other end of the line. “Sheriff,” Greenberg said, his voice dropping into an icier register, “you’re asking me to authorize a raid on a church—a place of worship. You’re asking me to approve a warrant investigating a much-beloved priest. All you have is the hearsay of another priest who might or might not have a hidden agenda. If you want me to write this warrant, I need a smoking gun, and you don’t have it. Come back when you do. Am I clear?”
Colcord heard the click of a phone line going dead.
