The Coffin Maker

Chapter 23

The FBI helicopter pilot pointed earthward and Blackwood got a bird's eye view of the New Dunbrody Abbey. Nestled in a treed enclave surrounded by seven hundred acres of the finest silt loam soils of Iowa farmland, the monastery's resplendent cut stone construction, bell tower, and the greenery of the manicured grounds gave Blackwood the immediate impression that this was a place of peace, tranquility and order. He watched while the pilot deftly landed the craft in a clearing near the service buildings of the sprawling compound. At engine shutdown, Blackwood waited until the blades slowed and exited the machine crouched until he was well clear. A monk wearing a black hooded scapular over a flowing white robe greeted him. Blackwood shook the extended hand of Brother Thomas Geldenhuis, a white haired septuagenarian with a round, kindly face.

"I'm Brother Thomas. Welcome to New Dunbrody Abbey, Mr. Blackwood."

"Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Brother Thomas. The Abbey is most impressive."

"I can give you a tour while we talk," said Brother Thomas in a voice so soft Blackwood had to lean toward him and listen intently. "Special Agent Wu of the FBI provided many particulars of the case you are attempting to solve."

"I'm hoping to gain some insight into coffin building," said Blackwood. "Not merely the practical elements, but possibly to discover what might motivate a killer to build coffins for his victims. I apologize for the blunt injection of a morose topic to your tranquil world, but this is the reality of my vocation. The perpetrator is holding two young women captive whose lives are dependent on my success as a crime solver. Time is of the essence."

"Evil comes from an evil heart and out of the hearts of men come many evil thoughts," said Brother Thomas. "God will bring every deed into judgment."

"I would very much like to rescue the young women while God deliberates," said Blackwood.

"I commend your desire to help," said Brother Thomas, who began walking toward the Abbey proper. "We shall visit the workshop, but first allow me to give you some background information about the Abbey and our work."

"Thank you," said Blackwood. "Why is it dubbed the 'New' Abbey?"

"In 1536, the Dunbrody Abbey in County Wexford, Ireland was one of the first of over six hundred monasteries dissolved by Henry VIII. The Act of Supremacy two years earlier declared Henry the supreme head of the Church of England and ended Papal authority. Today, it lies in ruins. About a hundred years ago, construction of the New Dunbrody Abbey began on this site. As monks, we follow a strict existence under the Rule of St. Benedict, a life dedicated to achieving closeness to God. We support ourselves by organic farming and making wooden caskets and urns, most from wood harvested responsibly from the monastery's managed forest."

"What's the difference between a coffin and a casket?" asked Blackwood.

"Essentially the shape," replied Brother Thomas. A hooded monk walking the grounds alone under a shade tree in the park-like setting distracted Blackwood.

"That's Brother Rolf enjoying a reflective moment after his noon dinner," Brother Thomas said before continuing. "A coffin has six or eight sides, is wide at the head, narrows at the feet, and uses less wood. A casket is a four-sided rectangular box with a split-lid for viewing purposes. The term originally referred to a case for storing jewelry but sometime during the 19th century, the undertaking industry determined that casket was a kinder term and they had a gentler shape. Here at New Dunbrody, where we live a monastic life, renounce worldly pursuits and devote our lives to spiritual existence, the casket is a celebration of both life and death, a means of conveyance along the pathway to God."