the church unlocked. Good heavens! How could he have done such a thing? Never, never had he drifted off in sleep like that before! Who knows what in the world could have happened with the edifice remaining wide open. Even though he was eighty, Father Raffello prided himself on running Santa Maria with skill and precision. How had he done such a thing? Terrible. Terrible.
Slipping off the chair he was sitting on in the confessional booth, he stood up and then abruptly stopped. He hadn't simply awakened; something had awakened him. A noise. A sound. Something unexpected. Pushing the curtain aside, he peered out into the nave. The creaking noise came again. Someone was coming into the church at 2:30 in the night? No, someone was going out.
Father Raffello took a deep breath. No person could have been walking around in the church all this time and not be up to no good. He shot a glance at the altar to make sure they hadn't tried to carry off the great golden candlesticks, but there they were in position with candles burning as always. But what about the poor box? A thief could have grabbed the money for the poor.
The old priest rushed up the center aisle and into the narthex. In a second, he could see that the lock remained secure and jerking the box he determined the coins had stayed inside. Yet, he thought it worthwhile to check out every aspect of the entryway, but nothing was missing. Father Raffello still wasn't satisfied. A nagging suspicion haunted him, and the old man always found his intuitions to be important to follow up on until he was completely satisfied everything was in order.
Some kids might have come in and could be stealing a few bones from downstairs under the church. Yes, that was it. Every now and then, teenagers showed up for just such a prank. Grabbing a candle, the priest hurried down the stone steps into the crypt. He had been down there so many times that he could quickly recognize any loss. Hurrying up and down the long corridors, he found nothing amiss, but as he turned to leave, Father Raffello noticed muddy footprints on the floor. Decades earlier, dirt from the Holy Land had been sprinkled on the floor of the crypts and never removed. Someone had been walking around that evening leaving muddy footprints in the loose dirt. Kneeling on the floor, the priest could tell the footprints were much larger than the usual size of teenagers. No question about it! He had heard that person leaving and that was what woke him up. Father Raffello rushed back up the steps.
If nothing was amiss in the church proper, possibly the intruder might have gone around to the back and was working on the Townsends' offices behind the church. If nothing else, it was worth a look. Father Raffello pushed the large front door open and peered out. The rain storm had passed and the heavy clouds moved on so he could walk around the building without an umbrella, but the night air felt brisk. Quickly, the priest returned inside and unlocked a closet at the side of the narthex. Pulling out a black cloak, he fastened it over his robe and pulled the hood over his head. Undoubtedly slinking through the early morning hours, he looked as scary as the dead monks propped up against the stone walls in the crypts below.
As quietly as possible, the priest found his way along the side of the tall church and started down the cement path. Just as he reached the back of the church, a tiny light flashed on in one of the rooms. Father Raffello froze. He looked again. No light. Possibly, he had made a mistake. The windows were filled with darkness. Yes, he had only imagined the light. Breathing a sigh of relief, he tucked his hands in his robe and thought of returning to the church.
A small light flipped on again.
Father Raffello caught his breath. No question about it! Someone was walking around in those offices. He should run back in the church and call the police, but if he did the thief might leave and he'd miss seeing who it was. If nothing else,
Slipping off the chair he was sitting on in the confessional booth, he stood up and then abruptly stopped. He hadn't simply awakened; something had awakened him. A noise. A sound. Something unexpected. Pushing the curtain aside, he peered out into the nave. The creaking noise came again. Someone was coming into the church at 2:30 in the night? No, someone was going out.
Father Raffello took a deep breath. No person could have been walking around in the church all this time and not be up to no good. He shot a glance at the altar to make sure they hadn't tried to carry off the great golden candlesticks, but there they were in position with candles burning as always. But what about the poor box? A thief could have grabbed the money for the poor.
The old priest rushed up the center aisle and into the narthex. In a second, he could see that the lock remained secure and jerking the box he determined the coins had stayed inside. Yet, he thought it worthwhile to check out every aspect of the entryway, but nothing was missing. Father Raffello still wasn't satisfied. A nagging suspicion haunted him, and the old man always found his intuitions to be important to follow up on until he was completely satisfied everything was in order.
Some kids might have come in and could be stealing a few bones from downstairs under the church. Yes, that was it. Every now and then, teenagers showed up for just such a prank. Grabbing a candle, the priest hurried down the stone steps into the crypt. He had been down there so many times that he could quickly recognize any loss. Hurrying up and down the long corridors, he found nothing amiss, but as he turned to leave, Father Raffello noticed muddy footprints on the floor. Decades earlier, dirt from the Holy Land had been sprinkled on the floor of the crypts and never removed. Someone had been walking around that evening leaving muddy footprints in the loose dirt. Kneeling on the floor, the priest could tell the footprints were much larger than the usual size of teenagers. No question about it! He had heard that person leaving and that was what woke him up. Father Raffello rushed back up the steps.
If nothing was amiss in the church proper, possibly the intruder might have gone around to the back and was working on the Townsends' offices behind the church. If nothing else, it was worth a look. Father Raffello pushed the large front door open and peered out. The rain storm had passed and the heavy clouds moved on so he could walk around the building without an umbrella, but the night air felt brisk. Quickly, the priest returned inside and unlocked a closet at the side of the narthex. Pulling out a black cloak, he fastened it over his robe and pulled the hood over his head. Undoubtedly slinking through the early morning hours, he looked as scary as the dead monks propped up against the stone walls in the crypts below.
As quietly as possible, the priest found his way along the side of the tall church and started down the cement path. Just as he reached the back of the church, a tiny light flashed on in one of the rooms. Father Raffello froze. He looked again. No light. Possibly, he had made a mistake. The windows were filled with darkness. Yes, he had only imagined the light. Breathing a sigh of relief, he tucked his hands in his robe and thought of returning to the church.
A small light flipped on again.
Father Raffello caught his breath. No question about it! Someone was walking around in those offices. He should run back in the church and call the police, but if he did the thief might leave and he'd miss seeing who it was. If nothing else,
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