White Collar - as an unofficial novel - part 2

Barelli met them outside the church together with a priest who Barrelli introduced as Father D'Allesio. Peter introduced Neal as a consultant and to Peter's relief, no further questions were asked about it. Father D'Allesio showed them into the church where Cruz and Jones were already at work.

"The Bible belonged to the Church of St. Camillus de Lellis in Naples" Father D'Allesio told them as they walked down the aisle to the display case where the Bible had been. "It was brought here in 1903. Been the heart of our parish. Now, this." An empty case with smashed glass.

"No alarm, no witnesses. No sign of a forced entry," Cruz told them. "It looks like a smash and dash."

Simple, risky and uncomplicated.

"Anything unusual that night, Father?" Peter asked the priest.

"No. Not that I recall."

Peter turned to Cruz and Jones.

"Have ERT run the prints against the parish roster. Something tells me we'll get a few matches." The whole community had probably done time in prison.

"Nobody from this parish stole that Bible," Barelli pointed out with certainty.

"Oh, sure. You guys are all choirboys, right, Barelli?"

"No surveillance cameras," Neal pointed out. The kid had as usual been by his side the whole time, watching, scanning, noticing things.

"The Lord sees all," Barelli answered, pointing a finger to the sky. "And that's good enough for us."

"I'm getting my St. Whatevers mixed up. But didn't you used to run a soup kitchen here?" Peter remembered. Father D'Allesio glanced at Barelli before he answered.

"Not anymore."

Barelli made a face and looked in the other direction without comments. Peter exchanged a look with Neal. The kid had not missed the tension either.

"Who steals a Bible?" Neal asked Mozzie. They had been on the rooftop terrace and Mozzie had not come further with the bottle. Now Neal was returning inside with their empty whiskey glasses.

"People steal everything," Moz returned.

"Why would we steal one?" Neal asked and his friend stared at him. "In theory."

Mozzie shrugged.

"They're rare."

"Yeah, it makes them valuable, but not like a Picasso." He crossed the room and poured some more whiskey in their glasses. "It's definitely a niche market. It's tough to fence. People get weird about buying stolen religious artifacts."

"I think it's an irony thing. That pesky eighth commandment."

Neal handed a glass to Moz and took a sip from his own.

"Thou shalt not steal."

"It depends what's important to people. Did you know that an original Star Trek dome lunchbox goes for 600 bucks?" No, he did not. And it was not like he was going to steal those. "I don't try to explain it."

"Well, I can appreciate that," Neal answered. The world was weird enough as it was. "But why this one?"

"Well, you're missing book is famous. It's known as the Healing Bible." Mozzie held a couple of sheets with printouts.

"Really? Attribution." That could explain a lot.

"'In 1588, the plague passed through Naples. Father Camillus carried the book into disease-stricken ships in the harbor. Not a single person who touched the Bible died,'" Mozzie read.