Angie moved underneath the blanket, motivating him to reach for the phone before it woke her completely. “Hello,” he croaked. “Joe,” someone said sharply. “You’d better get up to the monastery. There’s been another murder.” Giorgio sat up. He recognized Jack Barnes, one of the officers who worked the graveyard shift. “You’re kidding?” he whispered, rubbing the stubble on his face. “They just called it in. One of the monks was found floating in the pond.” “Jesus. Which one?” he sighed. His eyes were fully open now. It was barely light outside and the elm tree that bordered the house danced gently to a soft breeze. “Someone named O’Leary.” Giorgio groaned. “Okay,” he exhaled, “I’m on my way.” He approached the duck pond by the flagstone path. There were no ducks, probably never had been, but still it was a peaceful spot, a grassy spot, a place for quiet contemplation – or a murder. The morning sun was just rising above the sycamores casting the sky in a warm glaze.
