Alex Kava Bundle - Alex Kava [656]
She decided to put off calling Cunningham for now. She’d call him after she talked to Detective Pakula. She could use his support. Instead, she tried Gwen’s office number and her cell, only to get voice-messaging services. Racine wasn’t answering her phone, either. She wished Tully was back from vacation. She needed someone to make sure Gwen was okay.
She passed the classroom with the historical artifacts that she and Pakula had noticed earlier. The class must have taken a break. The room looked empty. Maggie backtracked and stood in the doorway. Several antique daggers caught her eye. They were laid out on the counter, resting on special black cloths. The metal sparkled in the streaks of sunlight. She wandered closer, standing over them, examining without touching. Two of them were much longer than regular knives, their hilts wide and narrow. The handles had elaborate carvings, some worn down and impossible to distinguish as decorative or symbolic. All had been meticulously polished and cleaned.
“You can pick them up if you like.”
The voice startled Maggie, but she didn’t turn around. Instead, she simply glanced over her shoulder. The woman wore khakis and a white T-shirt with bright pink and aqua-colored fish and funky lettering that read Pensacola Seafood Festival.
“This one looks like a sixteenth-or seventeenth-century European stiletto,” Maggie said, pointing to the sleekest one, a thin blade about nine inches long with a hilt that curved down at the ends. Several years ago she had helped raid the basement of a serial killer who collected and used stilettos from different eras. It was a history lesson that stayed with her.
“Very good,” the woman said, rewarding her with a radiant smile. Now closer, she noticed gentle lines at the edges of the woman’s mouth, revealing that she was a bit older than Maggie’s first impression. She figured the woman was around her own age, early to middle thirties.
“The stilettos,” she continued, “were actually modeled after these.” She picked up the dagger and handed it to Maggie. “This one’s a bit earlier. I’ve been told it’s from a fourteenth-century knight. It was used as a companion piece for close-contact battle.”
“Close-contact battle?”
“Probably to slit his opponent’s throat.”
“Ah,” Maggie said, and she tried to hold it with the reverence it seemed to deserve.
“I’m Sister Kate Rosetti.”
“Maggie O’Dell.”
“Are you with the detective questioning Father Tony?”
“Yes, but I’m with the FBI.” She searched Sister Kate’s eyes to see if that made a difference. Would she be like Father Gallagher and become defensive, careful with her words, or anxious to be rid of Maggie? The nun picked up another one of the daggers, but seemed only anxious to show it to her.
“This is one of my favorites,” she said, turning it in the manner of a formal presentation, so that Maggie could see the intricate skull-like carving at the very top of the handle. “It’s called a talisman or a wizard’s knife. It has the flying serpent wrapped around the handle, but also the Celtic knot-work engraved on the blade.”
“Actually it’s very beautiful.” It didn’t seem to be the correct word to call such an item beautiful. However, it was difficult to ignore the craftsmanship, if not artistry, that went into each piece. “What inspired you to start collecting medieval…weapons?” Maggie looked around the counters and shelves. The glass cabinets on the wall contained different historical artifacts, but at first glance it occurred to her that most of them were, indeed, weapons of some sort.
“That’s interesting,” Sister Kate said,