A Fractured Peace by Elia Seely

Author:Elia Seely [Seely, Elia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Independent
Published: 2021-01-26T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Five

Tenzin stood monitoring the buffet meal and nodded curtly when I smiled at him. I asked if I could have a bite of food and he gestured for me to help myself. I chose a bowl of soup and bread and scanned the tables looking for Steven. He sat at a table by himself, lucky for me. The cafeteria rang with noise but wasn’t full; I figured people just drifted in between a certain time period as their work allowed. I approached Steven and sat down.

His face visibly fell, much to my satisfaction. Yet, he was a young, probably scared, kid. I had told a few lies to cops too, in my time. But never about anything as serious as knowing a murder victim.

“Hey Steven,” I said, trying to keep my voice neutral. “I had a little chat with Rabten after you and I talked, and he said that you actually knew both himself and Choden out in India and Nepal. A slightly different story than the one you told me. Care to explain?”

He paled under his tan and blinked rapidly at me before dropping his gaze to his plate. “I don’t have to say anything to you without a lawyer.”

“Steven,” I had to laugh. “You don’t need a lawyer. This is just a clarifying conversation. I’m not accusing you of anything. But of course, if you want, you can ride down to the sheriff’s office with me and we can interview you formally in the presence of legal counsel. Do you have a lawyer?”

“Um, no.”

“We’re just going to chat some more, and then, if what you say is relevant to our investigation, you will need to come down to the sheriff’s office to sign a statement. Once we get your story straight. Understand?”

“I don’t go down to town.”

“Well you’ll have to figure that out. Bus, catch a ride down. I’m sure you can manage. I can speak to whoever supervises you, if you like.”

“Whatever,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“Now, why don’t you tell me about your connections to Rabten and Choden out in Asia?”

He fumbled his way through an embarrassed tangle of ‘you knows’ and ‘likes’ which reminded me painfully of Dan. Only this young man was a well-traveled twenty-year old who as far as I could tell had led a strange but rather privileged life. I tried to be patient—never my strong suit—as I coaxed the story out. And there wasn’t much in it after all: Steven and Rabten had been in the same monastery but had only known each other tangentially. Rabten had helped Steven get the hang of a few quirks of monastery life, but Steven was raised in the culture of India and Nepal, and had a harder time adjusting to life in America than he had to being a young white boy in a monastery school. Rabten had left well before Steven quit school at fifteen. Steven’s mother, apparently content with his decision, stayed in Kathmandu while he traveled to Tibet and then Dharmsala, following

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