60
“He will see you now,” said Maggie, the receptionist, with a frosty smile directed at Brother Armagh, hardly pausing in the filing of her nails.
He smiled back, stood, and made his way into the inner office. He stopped short at seeing Sheriff Colcord. The man’s head and face were bandaged, and his foot was elevated, resting in a cradle on a wheeled device.
“I see you’ve had quite the week,” said Brother Armagh. “I hope you’re on the mend.”
“It’s nothing,” said the sheriff, waving his hand. “Just chasing some bad guys. All in a day’s work. Please sit down, Brother Armagh.”
Armagh arranged his garments and settled in a seat opposite the desk. “I’m told you’ve got good news for me?”
The sheriff nodded. “I certainly do.” He swiveled around, unclipped a key chain from his belt, and wheeled-walked himself over to a small safe tucked into the wall behind him.
“Allow me to help,” offered Armagh.
The sheriff waved his hand. “No, no. I need to get used to this contraption, at least for the next four weeks.”
The sheriff used a key to unlock a keypad—then he punched in a code and opened the door. Reaching inside, he retrieved a sealed glass test tube, inside of which was another sealed container, and inside of that a tiny brown chip.
He wheeled back over and laid it gently on the desk before leaning back and returning his leg to an elevated position.
Armagh reached out. “May I?”
“Of course.”
He picked it up and peered inside. There it was, a half-centimeter square of human skull, dark brown and waxy. He felt a shiver, the electricity of faith, as he contemplated the tiny thing that had caused so much trouble. For a moment, he couldn’t speak, so great was the feeling of emotion that swept over him.
“I’m infinitely grateful to you, Sheriff,” he finally said in a quavering whisper. “More than I can possibly express.”
“I can’t take all the credit,” said the sheriff. “Many others contributed to its recovery. We’re grateful ourselves to be able to return this holy relic to the church, intact.”
“May you be blessed.”
“Thank you. I need it.” The sheriff smiled ruefully at his injured leg. Opening a drawer, he reached in for a piece of paper and slid it toward Brother Armagh. “You’ll need to sign this affidavit, which says you’ve received the relic in good condition and absolve us of any further responsibility. If it’s agreeable to you, I’ll have Maggie come in to witness and notarize it.”
Armagh found the document to be both simple and in good order.
It only took a few minutes to get everything signed and processed.
Colcord turned to Maggie. “Please make a copy for Brother Armagh and give it to him on his way out.”
She left with it, closing the door.
“Well, that’s that,” said the sheriff. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”
Armagh hesitated, but curiosity always got the better of him. “Did you, ah, ever solve the mystery of why that man stole it in the first place and why he was murdered?”
The sheriff gave him a broad smile. “I had a feeling you’d ask me that question. The answer is no. Our investigation is ongoing—and that, I’m afraid, is all I can share with you.”
“Very well,” said Armagh, only a little disappointed. “I know I speak for the Holy Father when I say that he is eternally grateful to you and everyone else involved in recovering this sacred relic.”
Armagh slipped the tube into an inner pocket of his robe, patted it,and extended his hand. They shook, and he rose. “Please don’t get up,” he said. “I can see my way out.”
“Safe travels,” said the sheriff. “And”—he hesitated—“may God be with you.”
“And with you too,” Armagh said, and turned to open the door.
