William Bernhardt - Criminal intent

Chairman Craig smiled. "Manly's Manly, that's all, Pamela."

"I don't think this is something we should just shuck and grin about." Pamela, an anorexically underweight brunette with long tapered fingers, was not prepared to let it go. "Our goal is to represent the entire Christian community. To create a perception of spiritual unity. One loose cannon like this could destroy our credibility. It could undermine our entire purpose."

Manly ran his tongue along his bottom row of teeth. "And what exactly is that purpose, ma'am?"

"What we're trying to do, for your information, is to unite the community behind the pro-life cause. We're joining hands to educate and enlighten people on an important issue. We're accomplishing an important goal through nonviolent means."

Manly fanned the air with his hand. "Sounds like a load of crap to me."

Veins stood out in Pamela's neck. "I think we have a problem here. A serious problem. In some people's minds, pro-life is already associated with dunderheads and backwoods bullies. Religious paranoids-those who think it's acceptable to kill a doctor and call it pro-life."

"I don't think people should be criticized for taking action in support of their beliefs."

"That depends on the action, doesn't it?"

"When a doctor commits an abortion, he takes a life. That's murder, pure and simple."

"I don't argue with that, but I do argue with-"

"Is it a crime to stop a murderer before he murders again?"

"It's certainly a crime to shoot a doctor in cold blood when-"

"Doesn't the Bible say 'an eye for an eye'? Isn't that what it says?"

Pamela tumbled back into her chair. "Oh, please. Here we go again."

"Don't duck the question. Doesn't the Bible say 'an eye for an eye'?"

"And 'vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.' That's the end of the quote, the part people like you always leave out. Retribution is for God, not man. We were told to love one another. Which you can hardly reconcile with shooting a man down in cold blood!"

"You know what I think?" Manly shouted back. "I think you're a coward, that's what I think. All of you! You don't have the courage of your convictions. You don't have the strength to do the hard jobs. You can talk the talk, but you can't walk the walk!"

"Oh, sweet Jesus." Pamela pressed her long fingers against her forehead. "Craig, I can't work with this. I just can't."

The chairman cleared his throat. "I think perhaps if we stick to our agenda…"

"I'll tell you where you can stick your agenda!" Manly bellowed.

Pamela's eyes rolled. "Seriously, Craig. This kind of talk-much less action-could undermine everything we're trying to do. How can we be taken seriously as a force for peace if we're represented by a neanderthal wannabe murderer?"

"Are you talking about me?" Manly asked.

"If you could both please just calm down!" Craig glared across the table, as if challenging anyone to say another word. "We have work to do, people, and this isn't getting it done."

"I won't let this go, Craig," Pamela muttered under her breath.

"I'm calling a ten-minute recess," Craig announced. He banged his little gavel on the tabletop. "Go get a drink and cool off! Both of you! When you return, I expect to get back to work!" Manly stepped outside, but the ten minutes stretched to fifteen, then twenty, then more. Almost an hour passed before Chairman Craig emerged from a side room to talk with him. It was obvious he wasn't looking forward to saying whatever he had to say. He didn't sit down with Manly; in fact, he couldn't even look him in the eye.

"Manly, we've been having a little impromptu meeting in there. I'm very sorry, but-"

"I'm out, aren't I?"

Craig rubbed the back of his neck. "I wouldn't put it like that. The committee just feels that our goals and… methodologies are radically different and that we will never be able to work together as a team."

"Work? Who ever said anything about work? All you people do is talk. That's all you ever will do."

"Still, we feel that it would not be mutually beneficial to continue-"

"You're afraid I'm gonna go lop off some abortion doctor's head, aren't you?"

"No, no, nothing like that-"

"Well, you should be," Manly said, pushing himself onto his cowboy boots. "Because I just might."

"Manly-"

"You people make me sick. You go on and on, talking about how ethical and righteous you are. But not a damn one of you has the guts to put your money where your mouth is."

"We don't feel that the most politic approach-"

"Did Christ care about politics?" Manly bellowed. "No, sir. He did not! He put his life on the line. Upset a lot of people, too. But he did what he knew was right."

"He never killed anyone."

"He tossed the money-changers out of the temple. He fought back the madding crowd."

"Look, we're never going to agree. And we're never going to be able to control you. You're not a team player, Manly. So we have to sever the relationship. We can't have you on this committee. I'm sorry, but we just can't."

Craig hurriedly stole back to the conference room, leaving Manly to sit and stew. Goddamn cowards. Self-righteous dilettantes. What do they know about what it takes to get anything done in this world? Not a damn one of them has ever accomplished anything in their entire lives. They stroke themselves and tell themselves what a wonderful contribution they're making to the world, but the truth is they never do a damn thing!

Manly was so absorbed in his thoughts that at first he didn't notice the stranger's approach.

"You're upset, aren't you?"

Manly glanced up. "Damn right I'm upset. Don't I have every right to be?"

"Far as I'm concerned. All I wondered was… what you're planning to do about it."

"And what makes you think I'm going to do anything about it?"

"Instinct. I can tell just looking at you. You don't belong on some committee chewing doughnuts and bulleting action items. You belong on the front lines."

"Front lines? Is there a war?"

"I think there is, yes. Don't you?"

"Maybe." He rolled his tongue around inside his mouth. "So what do you want?"

"I'd like to propose a mutually beneficial relationship for both of us. A win-win situation. You get what you want, I get what I want. We both fight for the causes we believe in. Sound good?"

"Couldn't say. Don't know what you're talking about."

"Well, you will. Soon enough. The great work has begun, you know." The visitor's eyes darkened. "But there's still much to do. Ever so much more to do."

Ben sat at the darkest corner of the long conference table, silently stewing. He hated meetings. And this had to be one of the worst.

"This is supposed to be a house of God, not a house of horrors!"

"And we're supposed to be loving Christians, not back-stabbing assassins!"

"How can we behave as Christians when we're living in the third circle of hell?"

"Should I be putting this in the minutes?"

Ben had known having a vestry meeting tonight, so soon after the discovery of another murder, would be a mistake. But no one would listen to him-not even his client, Father Beale. The work of the church must go on, he insisted. And the vestry must select someone else to lead it, now that Kate is gone. So the meeting was convened, and Susan Marino, a thirtyish woman who appeared to Ben much too nice to even be on this vestry, was chosen to lead it. And from the moment the senior warden position was filled, the meeting had been nothing but an acrimonious succession of accusations, backbiting, and venom.

To her credit, Susan managed to keep her voice calm and even. "Father Beale, surely you can see why many people think this would be an appropriate time for you to step down."

"Yes, I certainly can. Politics." Beale seemed badly shaken, both by the discovery of the body in his office and the battering he'd endured in this meeting, but it hadn't quelled his vigor. "This latest tragedy involving poor Kate is nothing but an excuse to accomplish what you people have been trying to do for months."