Murder Made Legal: A Casey Alton Mystery

by Richard Wren

  “Sure. I watched you knock the cabinet down and cut your ropes off, but it only took a minute or so.”

  Les had no explanation as to how Casey could be out cold and still watch everything at the same time. He decided not to push it.

  He checked his watch. “We’ve been here almost two hours. I wonder how soon they’re gonna check up on us.”

  “Whenever. We just gotta be ready for them.” He paused in thought a moment. “Remember when they brought us down here and almost put us in a room upstairs?

  “Sure.”

  “We didn’t see a soul then, and I bet it’s going to be that way when get those guys tied up in here instead of us. We might even be able to sneak outa the damn place.”

  Les said, “Soon as the door starts moving we rush ‘em, right?”

  “Yep,” Casey replied, shaking his wine bottle in his fist, “We’re gonna give them the worst wine hangover they ever had.”

  They settled down to wait, still flexing and massaging their arm and leg muscles. After a short time, Les stood up and made a circle around his chair. “I gotta move, or I’ll cramp up.”

  “Just be quiet about it. We have to be able to hear them.”

  “No worries. You were out of it when they left, but they made a hell of a racket getting that bar back in place.”

  An hour went by. Both were fidgety. Les leaned toward Casey and said, “Pretty soon, I’m gonna have to pee.”

  “If those idiots have any brains at all, they’ll realize there’s no toilet down here. They have to come back sooner or later.”

  Les grimaced. “I hope it’s sooner than later, or my bladder’s gonna explode.”

  Suddenly, Casey held his hand up, palm toward Les. “Hear that?”

  Les shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  “Something scraped the door.”

  They both leaned forward and listened intensely.

  This time they both heard it. “They’re here, let’s go.” Casey ordered.

  Both rose and quietly took up their positions side by side with the opening between the two doors just between them. Casey whispered. “At my signal, okay?”

  “Got it.” They both tensed their muscles as they listened to the sounds of the bar being removed. Casey could picture the two outside lifting it out of its wrought iron holders and setting it on end next to the door. His mind wandered for a second, and he wondered why the bar had been made so heavy. It had looked almost medieval to him. No matter, it was working to their advantage that it was so big and unwieldy.

  “Any second now,” Casey whispered. They both took a firmer grip on their wine bottles. One in each hand.

  With his eye glued on the handle, Casey waited for it to turn. He had to judge the timing perfectly. The time to do it was when the handle was completely turned and the door was free to open. Timing would be critical.

  “Now!” he whispered, and they both shoved their side of the doors as hard as they could.

  Caught off balance, both were thrown backward. Casey found himself against the taller of the two. Thrown backward, the guy backpedaled until he bounced against the far wall, then quickly catching his balance, charged at Casey.

  I gotta clobber him quick. Casey thought as he set himself.

  Unexpectedly, he jumped into the air and kicked at Casey as he flew by. The kick caught him on his left shoulder, and Casey was knocked to the ground.

  Jesus, I get stuck with a karate expert? Casey thought woozily.

  The man saw his chance and stood astride him gloating. Suddenly he reached down and snatched the wine bottle out of Casey’s hand and brandished it threateningly. He was so mad he stuttered. Anger flashed in his eyes.

  “You, You, You hijo de puta.” He cocked the bottle over his head prepared to crush Casey’s head in. He yelled “Voy a matarte!”

  Casey had no idea what he was saying, but the look in his eyes and the poised bottle were clear indications of what was intended. Les yelled, “Casey do something!”

  Instinctively, purely as a reflex to Les’s shout, Casey lashed out with his foot as hard as he could, and luckily hit his opponent’s ankle, knocking his left leg out from under him. The man collapsed onto his right side. Now fully in control of his senses, Casey rolled over and lashed out with his right foot, catching him this time hard and square in his crotch. The man screamed and let go of the wine bottle.

  Casey scrabbled after the bottle, grabbed it, and hit his assailant on his head hard enough to knock him out. He turned to see how Les was doing.

  “He ran,” Les called from across the hall, pointing at the crumpled heap of the short guy at his feet.

  On his knees, Casey said, “Jesus that was close, I thought I was done for. What the hell was he yelling at me?”

  Les laughed nervously. He called you a son of a bitch and said he was going to kill you. I thought he had you too. That’s why I yelled.”

  “Is he out?” Casey asked, nodding toward the short guy.

  “Like a light, yours?”

  “Oh yeah, I really clobbered him.”

  They stood and stared at each other for a moment, then Casey quietly started laughing.

  “We didn’t get off to too good a start, did we?”

  In another moment, Les joined him. They stood facing each other with their assailants out cold at their feet, trying to suppress their laughter.

  Finally, Casey got control of his giggles. “C’mon, we need to move. Drag ‘em in, and we’ll tie them up,” he chortled. “I’ll show them some real sailor’s knots.”

  In a short time, the two were tied up, although not as inhumanely as Les and Casey had been. Les pushed both doors shut, and they replaced the bar.

  Les leaned over and held his meaty paw up for a high five. “God damn it, we did it!”

  Casey took a swipe at the high five and said, “We aren’t out yet. Slow and quiet does it,” as he led the way up the stairs.

  Les whispered, “If those doors crashing didn’t bring anyone, I don’t think talking’s going to.”

  On his knees, Casey peeked over the top stair, ready to jerk his head down if anyone was there. His head was level with the floor. There was a thick coating of undisturbed dust everywhere except a line from a staircase farther down the hall to where he was kneeling.

  “I don’t think anyone’s been down here in weeks except maybe us,” he whispered. “I’m going up.”

  Les crawled up to take Casey’s place and watched as Casey furtively skulked down the hall from door to door.

  “Nothing.” He told Les. “Empty rooms.”

  Les joined him. “One of them a toilet?” he asked.

  Casey pointed to the next door and said, “Don’t flush, it might draw attention.”

  At the door Les paused. “We should wash your face, you’re covered in blood.”

  “You worried about my appearance?” Casey asked.

  “Maybe so, maybe not. Depends on what our next move is, I guess,” he said as he entered the lavatory. Accompanied by the strong sound of water hitting water, he continued, “By the way, what’s our next move? Maybe find the sister?”

  Casey mulled that over for a second. “Don’t think so. If any of those bloodthirsty farmers are around and caught us anywhere near her, they’d probably kill us first and ask questions later.” He looked around at the empty quarters. “I think we’re okay here for a little time. Let me think. I may have a glimmer of an idea.”

  Les responded. “I’ve been thinking. Where’re all the nuns? All we saw was the one in the garden and the Mother Superior. There has to be a bunch of them in a Catholic country like Mexico.”

  “Well they’re sure not down here. That’s why I’m thinking it’s probably going to be damn near impossible to sneak out of here. Besides, we still need to find the sister.” Casey hesitated while he quickly reviewed the tentative idea he had.

  “Try this out for size,” he started. “First we clean each other up as much as possible so that we look calm
and collected. Then we boldly walk up the stairs and into that room where the Abbess was and say something like, “Your two guys are resting comfortably in the sub-basement, and we’d like to start over with you.”

  Les looked at him incredulously, “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Not really.”

  “Jesus, Case, there’s probably a dozen or more nuns that’d be in our way, plus who knows how many more of those cowboy guards.”

  “I know, but I don’t think we have to worry about the nuns. Aren’t they trained to be passive? They’d probably just get out of our way politely, wouldn’t they?”

  “I guess. Unless they’re like some of my old teachers at school. They’d probably grab us by the ear and march us to the Mother Superior.”

  “Okay. So we expect to run into nuns, and we just ignore them. Then all we have to avoid are the guys. Do you remember how far it was from these stairs to the door to where the Abbess was?”

  “Uh, maybe seventy, eighty feet?” Les replied uncertainly.

  “Sounds about right. So what do you think? Any better idea?”

  Les thought for just a second, “What the hell, let’s do it.”

  Quickly Casey agreed. “Okay. First we clean up and then go?”

  Using his shirt tail as a washcloth, Casey cleaned the blood off his face. “How do I look?”

  Les looked him over carefully. “Don’t get too close to her.”

  Casey drew a deep breath, “Let’s do it.”

  CHAPTER 31

  Both were still dressed in their khakis and short sleeved shirts. Casey’s shirt was stained with blood and the cuts on Les’ arms were very noticeable. Casey’s nose was puffy and red. Les looked at Casey

  “Actually, you look just about like most of the peasants around here. Probably less noticeable than before.”

  “Hah, you should talk. C’mon, let’s get going. We’re going to walk up the stairs as if we’re visiting the premises and belong here. We’re going to ignore any nuns, but keep a sharp eye out for those peons.”

  “And if we see any?”

  “Keep walking and talking and ignore them, too. There’s a good chance they won’t recognize us anyway. Whatever happens, just keep walking. We’re just a couple of visiting gringo’s who were in a car accident.”

  At the top of the stairs, they paused for a moment as they could faintly hear voices approaching. A group of five nuns came around the corner headed their way. They were self-engrossed and talking quietly among themselves. They had not yet spotted Casey and Les. To his right, there was a small table with some books on it. He quickly picked one up and held it opened in his hand as if it was a reference book.

  “Follow me,” Casey ordered and set off toward the approaching Nuns. “Keep talking but keep your voice low,” he added. He had quickly seen that the way to the Abbess’s office was directly past the nuns. He and Les strode confidently toward them, both looking at the book as if they were really interested in it. The nuns barely gave them any notice as they passed. Evidently they were used to having visiting scholars.

  “I wonder if one of them is Sister Agnes,” Les muttered.

  “Keep going,” Casey warned.

  A few more steps and Les said, “There’s her door. I recognize the cross.”

  “I think you’re right.” Casey looked around the anteroom, no one in sight. “It’s quiet as a tomb,” he whispered.

  “I think nunneries are always pretty quiet on purpose, nothing to worry about.”

  One quick glance and it was time to roll the dice. Casey confidently grasped the door handle and walked in with Les by his side.

  No one noticed them.

  The Abbess was turned sideways and engaged in what looked like a very serious conversation with a young girl. So much so that neither took notice of Casey and Les.

  Off to one side, at a long, bare table, five nuns were seated with their backs toward the door with open bibles before them.

  At the other end of the long table, a lone peon was seated and completely engrossed in an old-fashioned typewriter.

  The room was as quiet as a library. No sound intruded except for the small drone of conversation between the Abbess and the young girl and a very occasional click from the typewriter keys.

  Casey took all this in in an instant. In a moment, someone would notice them, and he would lose the element of surprise. He spun about and deliberately slammed the door shut. It sounded like a gun shot. Eight pairs of eyes instantly swiveled their way. The peon started to his feet. The nuns gasped. The Abbess slammed her hand down on the desk before her. The young girl jumped backward out of her chair.

  Before anyone could speak, Casey broke the silence as he held his hand up, palm facing the Abbess in a universal sign of good intentions.

  “First of all, I want to assure you that your men downstairs are unharmed. They’re taking a pleasant nap in the dungeon where they put us. We used the rope they had tied us up with to restrain them, but they’re a lot more comfortable than we were. Also, they don’t have any broken bones as we did.” He continued before the Abbess could break in. “Have you heard from the states about us yet?”

  Confusedly glaring at him, the Abbess replied. “No we haven’t, young man, and why are you so abusing our hospitality?”

  “Hospitality? You call a broken nose hospitality? You call being kicked when you’re lying on the floor with your arms tied behind your back hospitality? You call being locked in a cell with no food or water and no toilet facilities for hours hospitality?”

  “Stop,” She commanded and turned her face toward the peon half standing, half crouching at the nun’s table.

  “Enrico?” She demanded.

  “Si.” He replied.

  In rapid-fire Spanish, she gave him a series of instructions ending with an English command, “Now!”

  Enrico left the room running. Casey’s Spanish couldn’t follow her word for word, but he understood the gist of her command.

  “Ma’am,” he began.

  Les nudged him and whispered, “Reverend Mother.”

  Casey, well aware that the Abbess had heard the whisper said, “I’m advised that I should address you as Reverend Mother, and I want to assure you again that we have great respect for you and wish no one here any harm.”

  In a somewhat apologetic tone, she said, “Ma’am is acceptable.”

  Casey continued. “We don’t blame the two men that beat us up for what they did. I’m sure they were convinced we meant to physically harm Sister Agnes, maybe even kill her, because of the letter you read. The truth is, all we want to do is talk with her, and it could be with you or anyone of your choosing in attendance. What we think she knows about an incident that happened almost thirty-eight years ago might save the life of a close friend of ours.”

  “Where did you get the name Sister Agnes,” she asked suspiciously.

  Casey glanced at Les. “One of the guys said something about not letting us hurt Sister Agnes while he was kicking me. I assumed she was the one we were looking for,” Les said.

  The Abbess stood up, and Casey suddenly realized that she was extraordinarily tall as she silently stood there for a moment as if in meditation. The entire room was quiet. Casey studied her face. It was most certainly not angelic. Angular and lean, her face was dominated by her eyes, sharp and piercing. Suddenly she did something quite feminine. She adjusted her habit to rid the wrinkles so that it hung gracefully from her shoulders. Then she leaned forward and put both hands on the desk before her as if she had reached a decision.

  “Come up here,” she commanded, looking directly at Casey and Les.

  They looked at each other momentarily, and then walked up to within a yard of her desk. She examined both at close range.

  “How did you get the broken nose?” she asked.

  “Your man tripped me as he pushed us into the dungeon, and as my arms were tied behind my back, I fell directly on my face. Les said I was unconscious for more than a half hour.”
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br />   She turned toward Les. “And the cuts on your arms?”

  Les described how he had used the broken wine bottles to cut the ropes off his elbows.

  “And where did this take place?”

  Casey described the room in the second basement.

  At that moment, the doors in the rear were thrust open and Enrico triumphantly marched in pushing the two guards before him. They shrugged away from Enrico, straightened up, and walked confidently toward the Abbess, sneering at Les and Casey as they passed.

  “Reverend Mother,” the short one began.

  She raised her hand, palm toward the two in a visually clear command to stop, and slowly sank back in her seat. The room was in complete silence as she gathered her thoughts.

  After a few moments, during which the two men were clearly agitated and worried, she began to slowly speak. “I really don’t know what to do with you two,” she haltingly said. She now was speaking in English possibly for the benefit of Casey and Les.

  She continued lecturing them in a mild and teaching manner. “You know we don’t condone brutality in any form here in the convent. You knew that it was our wish that these two men be treated as guests until we established who they were. We even told you which room we wished them to be put in. I understand your concern about Sister Agnes, but we are deeply grieved by your actions.”

  The men hung their heads at her words. Looking at them, Casey was struck by the sincerity of their actions. Obviously a dressing down by the Abbess was extremely serious to them. At the same time, he was impressed by the attitude and statement by the Abbess. It was almost like she was addressing wayward children instead of grown men. He thought that perhaps the nun’s accumulated wisdom toward nonaggression and peace was so far removed from the average peon’s attitude, it was as if they were children. He also noted that the Abbess had gradually moved into using “we’re” rather than “I”, as if she was speaking for the whole of Catholicism, rather than just herself.

  The Abbess spoke to the nuns. “Take these two to the chapel; I’ll pray with them later.”