A Fractured Peace

by Elia Seely

  “And what are your monastic vows?”

  “There are 253 vows set forth by the Buddha.”

  Jesus. That would be hard work. “But are there main ones? Like, ‘don’t kill,’ for example?”

  “The Four Defeats are unchastity, homicide, stealing, and ying speech.”

  I wasn’t going to get into whatever ‘ying speech’ might be, but the others were nice and straightforward.

  “If Choden was killed by a monk—”

  “Not possible.”

  “Well, it is possible,” I countered. “Physically possible, yes?”

  “To go against the vows would mean to be expelled from the order, from monastic life.”

  “But if no one knew that you had done a thing—”

  “Not possible.”

  I tried another tack, reminded of conversations I’d had with my children as toddlers. Getting around the ‘no’ with a minimum of screaming.

  “What would happen if you knew someone had broken one of these vows? Would you be required to tell someone? The Rinpoche?”

  “It is difficult. But, yes.”

  I could suddenly see, as if spread out like a picture in front of me, the complexity of living in this close, rigidly controlled environment. The complicated rules, relationships, and undercurrents. Because no one was perfect, and rules—especially if there were 253 of them—were going to get broken. And, not everyone in this community was a monastic. It seemed like a pressure cooker kind of situation to me.

  “So, when you say that Tenzin was ‘troubled,’ do you mean that he was struggling with one of the vows?”

  Lobsang’s face was impassive, but the corner of his left eye spasmed with a nervous tic. I had a rush of understanding: Tenzin’s concern for Choden after the argument, his anger, his blushes. Could Choden and Tenzin have had a homosexual relationship? It wasn’t uncommon—you did hear about this kind of thing with Catholic priests, as much as the church tried to hush those types of rumors up. And chastity? Totally unnatural, especially for men. Choden wasn’t a monk, so no problem for him, but Tenzin … that would be a big deal, especially if someone found out. But not requiring him to kill Choden, unless … unless Choden wanted to tell someone. Maybe it hadn’t been consensual?

  “Okay,” I said, trying to corral my chaotic flood of thoughts. “Let’s get back to this argument you had with Choden. What was that about?”

  “Choden had started a copy of the Unfolding Lotus sutras. He was writing this copy to take back to India. Because his visa would expire, and he would not be able to keep up his study. But this is not allowed.”

  “So, you told him—what?”

  “I say to him that he must destroy the copy. It is not allowed. He tells me he will not. The proper way is to learn the sutras from meditation and devoted study. He is young and impatient and thinks that this step does not apply to him. We do not agree.”

  “But if he did make a copy anyway, what would be the harm?”

  Lobsang looked at me like I had just confirmed his suspicions that I was a complete idiot. “Only one copy is possible. If another is made, all are destroyed.”

  “What—you mean, if he made a copy you would have to destroy both of them?”

  “Not I,” Lobsang said.

  “Well—who, then? The Rinpoche?”

  “No one destroys. They are destroyed.”

  “You mean, they like, self-destruct, or something?”

  Lobsang made a curt nod. I paused to take this in. Obviously, some superstitious beliefs governed these sutras, a story told over time to prevent people from making unauthorized copies of the thing. What kind of information was actually in the sutras? Maybe it was some kind of encoded political document that would have taken down some empire. But again, would such information be important enough for Lobsang to kill Choden?

  “Lobsang, where were you on Thursday evening, this past week?”

  He sighed. “I was at the meditation in the temple. From 7 p.m. until 9 p.m. Then to the library here to finish some work. Then to my room and to sleep.”

  As Tenzin had suggested. “Did anyone see you after the meditation? Did you see Tenzin after?”

  “It is possible someone sees me. I am not looking for someone to see me. I am going about my business. There was no one in the library. I did not see Tenzin.”

  It occurred to me that if he’d been working late, he may have heard or seen Rabten return, so I asked him.

  “I see the van come back. I was outside in the parking area. It drove up the road to where the cars are parked.”

  “How many people were in the van?”

  “Two.”

  “Are you sure? You definitely saw two people?”

  Lobsang nodded.

  “Could you see who they were?”

  “No. I was just outside the garden gate. I saw the shapes of them in the front seat. Two.”

  My pulse quickened. Rabten had said that only he and Choden went down in the van for the evening meditation. But that he had come back up alone. After waiting until nine forty-five. So that would have put him at the monastery around ten-fifteen or ten-thirty, depending on how quick of a trip.

  “What time was this? That you saw the van return?”

  “Perhaps ten? I went to the library immediately after meditation and perhaps I had been working for a half hour. Maybe more. But,” he paused with his eyes closed, “it must have been around 10 p.m. Yes, the clock in the library said about five past when I returned.”

  “What were you doing outside?”

  Lobsang kept his eyes fixed on the wall opposite. “Having some fresh air.”

  More likely breaking one of the 253 vows, I thought. Like, thou shalt not smoke tobacco, perhaps? But I didn’t care about Lobsang’s minor personal transgressions.

  “Okay, so you definitely saw two people in the van at around ten, which is when they would normally return. Then you went back into the library until when?”

  “I left the library at eleven-thirty and returned to my quarters.”

  “Did you see Rabten?”

  “I saw him in the hall. He was returning from the bathroom.”

  “Did you speak?”

  Lobsang shook his head in the negative. His left eye still twitched. I had the sense that he held something back, but maybe that was to do with whatever he’d been up to out in the parking lot.

  “And Friday? You said that Choden did not come to the library, correct? But that was not too unusual?”

  “He did not. It was normal that he be there, but he was not.”

  “Did you see him at any meals, anything on Friday?”

  “I did not.”

  “And Friday evening, you were where?”

  “Meditation at 7 p.m. The same times as Thursday. Then I spoke to the Rinpoche for several minutes after, before returning to my room.”

  I confirmed that he had stayed in his room, seen no one, heard the various movements of Rabten, Tenzin, and the Rinpoche coming and going. It was all maddeningly vague.

  “All right, thank you, Lobsang,” I said, and we gave each other a little bow of the head. I exited the library, imagining I heard his sigh of relief as I left him in peace.

  I headed to the garden to make sense of my notes and what I’d just learned. Either Rabten was lying about the whole Choden disappearance, or someone else had gone down and come back up with him. If Choden had returned, then his murder had to have occurred sometime Friday or early Saturday. Which meant that we needed to re-focus on Friday night activities or even Saturday morning, although I thought it unlikely that someone could have either murdered Choden or scattered his body parts in the light of day. Pinto Ridge was a popular trail and the risk would have been too great. No one had remembered seeing Choden specifically on Friday, but he could have been lost among the members of the community. But why would Rabten lie? Unless he wanted to throw us off the right day so that he would be sure to have an alibi. He was my next person to see, and my belly dropped with the thou
ght of confronting him. Would he have seen Lobsang in the parking lot as he drove in? Likely not. Otherwise he wouldn’t have lied. Both nervous and curious, I went back inside to find out Rabten’s whereabouts. If I could manage this interview right, I might get enough for an arrest.

  Chapter Eighteen

  I found Rabten in the classroom in the main building where we had interviewed everyone the day before. He stood erasing the chalkboard as I came to the door.

  “Excuse me,” I said, to get his attention. My voice sounded a little shaky, so I coughed to cover it up and raised my voice a bit. “I need to ask you a few more questions about last week.”

  He looked directly at me with that piercing blue gaze. I felt like a rabbit caught in the sights of a bobcat.

  “Oh?” He set the eraser into the chalk tray and dusted his hands. “Well, come in.” He sat against the corner of a desk and I leaned against the front table.

  “I need to go over last Thursday and Friday nights again. We’re trying to fill in some holes, confirm everyone’s movements.”

  “Okay. So—what needs clarifying? I think I’ve told you everything pertinent about my own movements.”

  “Well, first off, I’d like to know about Thursday again. You said you waited until nine forty-five and then you came back up here. Did you come directly up? What time did you arrive back at the monastery?”

  “Yes, I came back up directly. Well, I made one stop, to pick up a hitchhiker outside of that cluster of cabins there about halfway up the canyon. It was late, and he waved me down. I picked him up and brought him up here. I guess I probably got back up about ten-twenty or so. Can’t be exactly sure as I didn’t check the time. But it took only moments to pick up the hitcher.”

  “A hitchhiker? You didn’t mention that yesterday when we questioned you. Did you know him? Why did you bring him up here?”

  Rabten showed his unnerving canine grin. “You didn’t ask me about the ride up. In any case, it wasn’t important. I did know him, as a matter of fact. He’s been around a few weeks, staying in one of those cabins and has been up to the monastery several times. He knows a couple of the lay students who live in the dormitory and who are doing a work/study trade. Apparently, the guy he shares the cabin with down on the highway was on kind of a crazy drunk and he wanted to get out of there. The guy was threatening to get violent. So, I just brought him up and he stayed with one of the students who he knows. I imagine, anyway. I dropped him off, parked the van, and went on to my own quarters and went to bed.”

  I was struck by a violent disappointment. Of course, he could be lying about this hitchhiker, but it would be easy enough to prove, so why create such a story? The times were a little off, but Lobsang had been vague and could easily have been mistaken about his own timing for being in the parking lot. I asked Rabten for the names of the students who knew the hitchhiker. He told me with no hesitation. Elijah must have interviewed them yesterday as the names didn’t sound familiar to me.

  “Did you see this man—what is his name?—on Friday, the next day?”

  “I only know him as Horse. Obviously, it’s a nickname.” Rabten smiled. “And no, I don’t recall seeing him the next day, but I wouldn’t have. I eat breakfast after the early meditation and before the lay students. Those of us that attend the early meditation—at 4 a.m.—do. I assume he got a lift back down or walked out to the bus stop outside the monastery gate. I don’t really know. I honestly didn’t think any more about him.” Rabten clasped his hands and looked at me expectantly.

  He was nothing but helpful, and I had only myself to blame for the weird mix of attraction and revulsion I had for him. Which meant nothing at all about his role, if any, in this crime.

  “You’ve spoken to Lobsang,” he said finally. “I saw him when we drove in. He was outside sneaking one of his cigarettes.” Rabten chuckled but his eyes remained cool. “He wasn’t very happy about being seen, but it’s not as though I would say anything.”

  Was one of the 253 vows not to squeal on each other? I started to feel a rising anger about the behaviors of these supposed holy men. All these rules, and yet all of them were probably breaking those rules. And what was it all for? Some kind of spiritual superiority? Were they more peaceful? Happier? I remembered Tsewang saying that she was more contented in a secluded life. Well who wouldn’t be, on one level, with all your cooking done and no responsibilities greater than those of keeping some meditation routine and whatever job you were given? It did sound easier than looking after kids and being a cop and being a woman, period, some days. I pushed away the irritation. I knew it would cloud my judgment and then I’d make mistakes. That’s what men say about women, and I wasn’t about to prove anyone right.

  “Yes, Lobsang mentioned seeing you. He also intimated that some other violations of vows might be happening. Between Choden and another monk. Would you know anything about that?” Lobsang had intimated no such thing; this was my own interpretation of some pretty vague factors. Would Rabten rise to the bait?

  Rabten’s eyes gleamed. “I wouldn’t like to say. But it happens. We have a few here who have chosen the monastic life as a way to be separate from secular society, but not because of a particular devotion to the Buddha or the Dharma. Because it’s easier than being in the outside world. They take the vows—not lightly, as that isn’t possible—but as a lesser evil than the evil that is already present in their lives. Do you understand?”

  I nodded. Exactly what I’d been thinking.

  “So, when temptation arises, as it will, always, then there is weakness. Ideally this is a signal that the person should no longer be in monastic life if they cannot resist. At best, temptation serves as an opportunity to strengthen oneself spiritually. But in practice, people err, they stay, things are overlooked. My personal belief is that becoming part of a monastic order should be much more rigorous than it already is. Then only the truly devout would be allowed in. But vows are a guideline, and anyone less perfect than the Buddha—so, everyone—struggles. In fact, the Buddha struggled too, initially. That is why there are vows, to test the devotion of the student. Vows are powerful. And some are more important than others.”

  “But someone here has broken a big vow, that of killing another human,” I said.

  Rabten kept my gaze. He had a magnetic presence. Maybe it was charisma—I’d never met anyone who seemed to cast a little spell over the space that they occupied. I thought again of Ted Bundy, how normal and charming everyone had found him.

  “So, you are assuming that the killer was a monk? One among us? Why not another of his associates? Why not Jerome Taschen? Or some unknown psychopath?”

  My pulse jumped at the mention of Jerome’s name.

  “Because—you have to understand that people aren’t violently or ritually killed by people they don’t know. A stranger, intent on robbery or even motivated by racist hatred, wouldn’t have gone to the trouble with the body. Wouldn’t have scattered him all over. Serial killers may be an exception to that, but no one thinks that is what’s happening here.” Not entirely true, but none of us were ready to go there yet, with only one victim.

  “What can you tell me about Sky Burial?”

  “Jhator, it’s called in Tibetan. The Communists have outlawed it for years, so it isn’t practiced as much in China now. But many countries and cultures do it. It’s more economical. And when you believe that the spirit has left the body for greater things, then there is no need to preserve the body, like Christians do with burial. We believe in compassion and generosity towards all beings. Sharing a body with the vultures, crows, and ravens is an act of generosity from the dead person. There’s a caste of people—men, always, called rogyapas—who cut up the body. In practice, though, many people just leave out their dead in known charnel grounds or in open, isolated places. Deceased monks would receive a ceremony beforehand. But jhator is not common now, and certainly we do not practice it here. When someone dies, the traditional Buddhist practice of cremation is what occurs.”r />
  I could see that Rabten loved being the teacher, instructing others on the way things were. He had knowledge, and he had the satisfied air of someone who believes what they say. Like Joe—only very different types of beliefs. But each with a lot of conviction.

  “So, you don’t think that Choden’s dismemberment was a Sky Burial practice?”

  “It could have been. But unlikely, I’d say. The killer probably just wanted the most expedient way of disposing of the body. Between wild animals and the power of nature, the corpse would be scattered or rotted quickly, maybe never even be found. That would be my reasoning, anyway. Not that I spend too much time thinking about things like that.”

  I wasn’t buying it. Here we had a crime with details that tallied with a practice the specific population of the monastery would have known about. What were the odds that was just coincidence? But there were many more questions to ask Rabten and it was already noon. He was perfectly at peace, it seemed, but I was getting restless. I needed to find Horse’s friends and confirm Rabten’s hitchhiker story. And find the young man, Steven, who Eli had interviewed. My hip tingled where it had been resting against the table.

  “As for killing, do you think there is ever a time where that vow can be broken and it would be justified? What about all these fierce looking characters that protect the Buddha? They seem pretty dangerous.”

  Rabten smiled. “You are thinking of Vajrapani? Yes, there is fierceness in our devotion. The Buddha is well protected. But would there ever be a ‘sanctioned’ time to kill?” Rabten’s gaze broke mine for the first time as he stared at the opposite wall, thinking. “In an extreme case, perhaps to protect something sacred to the Dharma, maybe. And over the centuries, I’m sure it’s happened. But it’s a terrible sin with long reaching effects on the person. You’d have to be very convinced there was no other way. And usually there are ways to avoid murder.” He smiled. “Don’t you find?”