Colcord glanced at the letter. It had a conglomerate of stamps and seals and gold embossing, with a big flourish that purported to be the pope’s signature. It looked like something Armagh could have created with colored paper and some candle wax. What a joke. “We’re very busy here. Thank you for your information. I’ll see you to the door.”
Armagh rose. “I have some security footage of the crime on my phone I can show you.”
“I’m sorry,” said Colcord. “I don’t have time right now to look at a video.”
“Well then, I’ll leave the letter with you, Sheriff. At the bottom is the private phone number of a cardinal in the Holy See who can confirm my mission. Please call it any time of the day or night.Please.And my cell number is written below it so you can get in touch with me.”
“Thank you, Father,” said Colcord, barely hiding his vexation now. He had a lot of work to do.
The man got up and left. With a huge sigh of annoyance, Colcord snatched up the letter and looked at it more closely. Impressive job, realistic and fancy, stamped and embossed, written in Italian and English. The cardinal’s number was there—an overseas number.
He tossed it aside to be filed away and forgotten with the growing mass of other bullshit evidence.
He went back to what he had been doing before the phony priest came in—checking security camera footage from stores in downtown Burns the night the four hikers had trekked through the Brooksfield Ranch. A lot of the footage had been taped over by the time they contacted the various businesses, but it was taking an inordinate amount of time to get through the footage they did recover. The more recent footage from the day Javi was murdered hadn’t given them anything either. He was almost certain he was wasting his time.
After an hour, his eye strayed to the letter. He stretched, taking a break from hunching over the computer. Could it really be from the pope? Totally crazy. But… he needed a break from the monotony of this task anyway. He pulled the letter back in front of him. It was a photocopy, but the copy itself had been embossed and stamped and fancied up. Of course it was phony. He pursed his lips, then, after a long moment, pressed the button on his intercom. “Maggie, could you please call this overseas number and put me through?” He read her out the number.
Ten minutes later, Colcord dialed the cell phone of Brother Armagh, who answered immediately. Colcord asked him to return to his office in one hour sharp. Then he called Cash. He knew she was in Burns, a fifty-minute drive away.
“You gotta get here right now,” he said. “We’ve got what I think might be a major break in the Castillo murder.”
