The Sculptor

“I would think so. But to be honest, Agent Markham, I wouldn’t even know where to begin looking for them. Any records older than five years we move to the basement, where they’re stacked in a dead files pile along with all the documents that were transferred from the old church after its renovation in the late 1960s-stuff going back almost a hundred years. Ironically, it was the deacon’s search for that family’s name that was our motivation to start cleaning house down there. However, even if you did find the actual record of the donation, Agent Markham, you might still have to track down the surviving family members like our man did three years ago. If you’d like, I can find out from the Scalabrini Fathers where the deacon is stationed-can ask him if he remembers the last name, where the family is living now, and can get back to you early next week.”

“Under normal circumstances, that would be fine, Father. But, with the murder of Cathy’s ex-husband, with the discovery of the Pietà two weeks ago in Exeter, there is every indication that The Michelangelo Killer is going to kill again-and soon. Hence, we need to follow up on every lead as quickly as possible.”

“Yes,” said the priest. “I read about it in the papers. The authorities, the media seems to think his next public exhibition will be the statue of David. Indeed, I’m willing to bet that sales of your book, Dr. Hildebrant, have skyrocketed with amateur sleuths looking for a way to prevent the crime, to solve the case before the FBI does.”

Cathy was silent.

“You’re probably right, Father Bonetti,” said Markham. “So you see why it’s extremely important that we get that family’s name as soon as possible.”

“If you don’t mind my asking, Agent Markham, why would the FBI be interested in a family who donated a statue over thirty years ago? What does any of this have to do with The Michelangelo Killer, other than you think that he stole our Pietà?”

“I know he stole it, Father Bonetti. And to be quite frank with you, I’m not exactly sure what I might find on the other side of this-that is, if and when I’m able contact the family in question. And to be even more frank, your stolen statue is the only solid lead I have to go on at the moment, the only place for sure I know The Michelangelo Killer was other than the scenes of the murders and the exhibitions of his statues. However, one thing I do know, Father, is that the theft was not random-meaning, I don’t think the killer saw your Pietà on the Internet. No, I think The Michelangelo Killer had known about the statue from the beginning. He may have sat in this church many times over the years-perhaps became fascinated with it as a child. After all, the last time we met, you yourself said that everything was connected.”

“Yes I did, didn’t I,” said the priest, his thoughts far away.

“So please, Father, would you be so kind as to let us look through your records?”

Reverend Bonetti smiled and nodded his consent. He led Cathy and Markham to a stack of boxes in the basement-three deep against a wall, and piled almost to the ceiling in some places.

“You have quite a task ahead of you,” said the priest. “The deacon began organizing the files himself with the intention of throwing most of them out. Fortunately for you, as you can see from the labels on the newer boxes, he got only as far as 1994 before he was called to move on. The boxes in the back are from the old church, so you needn’t bother with those. I can’t guarantee you’ll find what you’re looking for, Agent Markham, but if the document is still here, and if the deacon did in fact return it to the box in which he found it, I would assume it’s in one of these boxes toward the front.”

“Thank you, Father,” said Markham.

“You’ll have to excuse me now, as I must get upstairs for confession. I’ll be back down to check on you in an hour. If you find what you’re looking for before then, please let yourselves out the back door. I only ask that you leave the original document behind.”

“Will do.”

“I’ll say my farewells to you now in the event I miss you.” The old priest took Cathy’s hand. “Dr. Hildebrant, may God give you strength and courage in this difficult time.”

“Thank you, Father.”

Reverend Bonetti smiled and disappeared up the stairs.