Рита Браун - Nine Lives To Die

“So if you spoke out against a position from Rome that you felt outmoded or unsuited to your flock, would you lose funding?”

“What I would lose is my parish.” He sighed. “Rebellious priests are never in fashion.”

“A few make a great difference.”

“Deputy, I never expected you to be interested in the Church. I’m grateful that you are. And yes, a few priests have made differences, but they are better at public relations. I’m a simple parish priest and I tend to my flock as best I can. If I have a disagreement with dogma, and I’m not saying that I do, I keep it to myself. The time is not right, and it may never be right for me. I don’t know. But I don’t think I will do my people any good if I speak out on such issues. In fact, I think I would cause harm, divisiveness, and confusion.”

“I understand that.” She nodded. “Law enforcement can be rigid and difficult, too. I’m not suggesting it’s the same, only that I understand the conflict between obedience and speaking out for reform.”

“It’s a volatile time, isn’t it?” He sighed.

“Yes, it is. You have lost two of your mainstays, and I am sure that Peter Vavilov and Lou Higham offered generous support to the Church, as well as to Silver Linings. And now there’s the publicity about the missing checks.”

“I could always count on Pete and Lou. They would be so valuable at a time like this. Solid, smart advice.”

“Father O’Connor, did anyone ever come to you and report inappropriate behavior about Pete and Lou?”

“None.” He answered readily, but the question unnerved him. “I would have been shocked. I’m shocked to even think of those two in such a light. They were mainstays.”

“I’m sorry to ask these things, but I must. I have to consider every possibility, no matter how distressful. Did anyone ever complain about Silver Linings; perhaps they felt the boys were engaging in wrongful activities?”

“Yes. Some reports of drinking on the premises, also smoking pot. Brian Hexham looked into it and talked to the boys who had indeed drunk or smoked. And then when Brian gave his lecture on how one’s body changes—sexual desire and responsibility—that drew fire from some of the boys’ parents. I handled that.” He blinked. “It may seem odd to you that a celibate priest can or should speak to such matters, but I think we are bound to do so. We sacrifice our sexuality, if you will, to the Church, to the community. A married man will not put the flock first, he will put his family first, as he should. I am bound to the Church, to Christ. I realize this is a vow few would wish to make and even fewer understand.”

“What happened?”

“Some parents were upset, but the young men were grateful for the information. We forget how tough adolescence is. At that difficult time, you don’t even understand your own body, and there’s so much pressure to conform. To condense what I said, I told the few parents—three mothers and one married couple; most of these boys are from broken families—that if we don’t clearly and honestly address the realities of these boys’ lives, we will have more children out of wedlock, more heartache. Obviously, I believe in abstinence, and just as obviously I know that isn’t going to work for every teenage boy. Everywhere these young people turn, it’s sexual imagery, lyrics in the songs. So while I preach abstinence, I allow Brian to discuss birth control. It’s a bit of a cheat.” He blushed slightly. “But we must protect our boys as well as the girls. And if there’s one thing I emphasize and Silver Linings emphasizes, it’s respect for women.” He threw up his hands. “We’re struggling against the whole culture.”

“Yes, you are,” Cooper agreed. “I’ll give you a break and not ask how you feel about women becoming priests.”

He exhaled. “Thank you.”

“As to the matter of Silver Linings’s finances, the good news is, despite missing three checks, the forensic accountant who works with our office said the books are in order.” She paused, then again said with sympathy, “Father, I regret having to ask you some of these questions, but there is a great deal at stake. For one thing, I don’t want another murder.”

His hand flew to his heart. “Do you think—”

“I strongly believe both men were killed. Very slight evidence, but I’ve learned to trust my gut feelings. You have your calling, Father, and I have mine. It’s one thing to solve a murder, it’s another to prevent one.”

As Cooper spoke to Father O’Connor, Father O’Brien was sitting in the confessional booth. He gave Mass twice a week and offered confession twice a week.

Father O’Brien’s feet were cold. He was wrapped in a heavy shawl and he kept looking at his watch. One more hour.

Someone entered. A woman’s voice, low, said, “Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.”

“Go on, my child.”

“I am an accessory to murder.”

Low clouds covered the stars. The sparkling winter sky, obscured, deepened the night, but the cloud cover did keep the temperature a bit warmer. The mercury hung at thirty-one degrees Fahrenheit.

“I hate New Year’s Eve.” At the kitchen table Harry wrapped a gift in silver paper, finishing it with a white ribbon.

“I don’t hate it, but as I’ve gotten older I can’t say that I look forward to it like I did at twenty-five.” Fair sorted through the mail.

“I did that already, honey.”

“I know, but I like to check and see the dates on the bills.”

“Have you noticed that the credit card bills are now due in three weeks, not a month? Everything is compressed, pushed forward. It’s like the entire world is trying to squeeze operating capital out of us.”

He leaned back in the kitchen chair, tidying the bills. “Yep. Some magazines send you renewal notices early or they offer you a deal if you renew early. You know, like a twenty-five percent savings. Then I get confused because I don’t remember when my annual renewal date really is.”

“It’s a racket,” she said. “The date is usually in fine print somewhere on the renewal notice. Sometimes I think I’ll just let everything run out.”

“Me, too. Then again, I know in time I’d miss something.” He stood up, walked to the sink, stared out the window. “Did you look at the weather report?”

“No. I’ll pull it up.” She plucked the Droid off the counter, opened it up, touched the weather icon. “Below freezing tonight, cloud cover, cloudy tomorrow and chance of snow on New Year’s Eve.” She looked up. “We really do have to go to that party, don’t we?”

“Fund-raiser,” he flatly stated.

Harry opened her mouth, stopped before she spoke, for a long, high-pitched coyote yowl captured her attention. “God, that’s a mournful sound.”

Fair peered out the window again. “Yes, it is. Sounds like he’s up in the walnut grove.”

“Danger,” Odin called loudly.

The animals listened intently. They’d heard his warning before. Mrs. Murphy finally asked, “Danger to him or to us?”

“Do we have to find out?” Pewter asked.

“If we don’t, it might find us,” Tucker prudently stated.

“Hush your mouth,” Pewter immediately replied.

“I’m going to the hayloft,” the tiger cat announced. “I can see better up there. Maybe Odin will come down and enlighten us.”

Tucker said, “We put out what’s left of the T-bones, plus some cooked rice. Harry threw out half a pot in a Baggie.” The corgi thought this a pretty good haul.