"Half an hour okay?”
"Fine," he said.
"I wasn't even sure you'd be working today, said.
"How come?”
"Memorial Day.”
"Oh. Yeah.”
For cops, holidays came and went like any day.
"But I'm glad you are," she said. "See you And hung up.
He put up the receiver, and glanced at the It was now a quarter past eleven. He sat for seconds staring blankly at the sunshine through the grilled windows, still wondering.
A uniformed cop handed the Federal Ex envelope to Carella some ten minutes after left the office. He explained that it had been under some other shit on the muster desk and Sergeant Murchison had just now di When he apologized for any delay this may caused, he sounded slightly sarcastic.
The red-and-blue package contained the Father Michael had written to his sister twelfth of May. It was written on church St. Catherine's Roman Catholic Church raised black letters across the top of the address just below that. Father Michael had the letter by hand, but there was nothing in! handwriting to reveal the obvious emotional had caused him to open his heart to his older ter.
Instead, the hand was small and precise, the marching evenly across the page as if to the cadence of a secret drummer:
My dear sister,
It's been a long time since you and I have talked meaningfully about anything, and I suppose much of this has to do with the disparate and distant lives we lead.
Whatever the cause, I strongly miss the intensely personal and private talks we used to have when I was growing up, and the good advice you gave on more than one occasion. Not the least of which, by the way, was your advice to follow my heart about the call and to enter into the service of our Lord, Jesus Christ.
I write this letter in the hope that I may still reveal to you my deepest feelings.
Irene, I'm very troubled.
I have for the past little while now, since shortly before Easter as a matter of fact, been entertaining the most serious doubts about my ability to love God and to serve Him as devoutly as I've vowed to do. I now have reached the point where I feel incapable of facing a congregation on Sunday, of hearing confessions, of leading the young people in our youth organization, of counseling those in need of spiritual guidance in short, of fulfilling the duties a obligations of the priesthood.
My self-loathing reached its highest peak Easter Sunday, when I failed to extricate m from a situation that had become all-. and debilitating.
I realized then that I caught in the Devil's own snare and had bec a threat not only to myself and the lambs flock, but also to God.
I don't know what to do, Irene. Help Please.
Your loving brother, Michael
Carella read the letter yet another time, and he looked at the opening paragraph of Irene's letter to him:
My dearest brother,
I am now in receipt of yours of May 12th, I cannot tell you with what a saddened hasten to respond. Michael, how have managed to construct such a tower of doubt yourself?. And don't you feel you should your fears to the bishop of your diocese? I don't know how to counsel or advise you.
This from a sister who, in the days of Birney's youth, had given him "good advice on than one occasion." To Carella, her letter read brush-off. Don't tell me your troubles, I'm on my way to Japan. I'll call you before I leave, we'll have a nice chat. By then, it'll be blue skies again, anyway. Besides, I know you'll be able to pray your way to enlightenment and salvation. Poor tormented son of a bitch is having an affair with someone, as it later turns out, but she can't be bothered.
Eyes all full of tears at the funeral yesterday. Carella shook his head.
And then he went to the Clerical Office, and made a copy of Father Michael's letter, and used a yellow highlighter to mark those words or sentences that he thought might prove helpful to the case:
I have for the past little while now, since shortly before Easter as a matter of fact...
The affair, then, had started "shortly before Easter.”
"Shortly" being a relative term, it could have begun two days before Easter or two weeks or even two months. In any case, he hadn't said "For a long time now." His exact words were "For the past little while." Go pinpoint that.
My self-loathing reached its highest peak on Easter Sunday...
Here was Easter Sunday again. The day Nathan Hooper had sought sanctuary in the church. The day he'd heard Father Michael arguing with an unseen man.
The day the priest had heatedly thrown Bobby Corrente and his friends.
...when I failed to extricate myself situation that had become all-consuming debttitating.
Was he referring here to the argument he'd with this unseen, unknown man? Had they arguing about the affair... that had become all-consuming debilitating?
What had this man been telling him when he burst into the church, dripping blood and chased an angry mob?
I realized then that I was caught in the own snare...
The Devil's own snare, Carella thought, wondered what the priest had meant.
"What were you cleaning out at the Hawes asked.
"Oh, just some things in my desk. The who's replacing Father Michael is bringing his secretary with him.”
"Father Oriella? I thought he was temporary.”
"Well, apparently not," Krissie said, and tossed hair the way actresses did. Hawes guessed there acting classes where they taught you how to your hair. I'll be looking for something else ,w. Unless a part comes along," she said, and ged.
On Saturday night, she had told him honestly and y that sometimes she doubted a part would .ver come along. But apparently hope sprang Here it was Monday, and she was singing the ;ss's same sad song again. A part will come And when it comes along, I'll be up for it. if I lose it, it was because they were looking for who was taller. Or shorter. Or blonder. Or Actresses, he thought, and wondered what hell he was doing here.
They were eating in a new Italian restaurant on In this city restaurants sprang up like s (or, in some cases, toadstools) and most new ones were Italian, the American craze for seemingly knowing no limits. Some of the restaurants survived. Most of them went under after struggling for two or three months. Krissie had ordered the veal piccata. Hawes had ordered the cannelloni. Judging from the taste of the sauce, he gave this joint two or three weeks.
"Would it bother you if I talked about the case?" asked.
This morning, Carella had filled him in on what learned at the cemetery yesterday. The priest having an affair. Hawes had listened silently.
guessed the news bothered him, but he didn't quite why.
"Go right ahead," Krissie said.
"I was wondering.., did Father Michael discuss personal matters with you?”
"Like what?”
"Well... personal matters.”
"Like which dentist he should go to? Or whe or not he could afford a new car?”
"No, I was thinking more of... doubts... "No. Never.”
"Did you ever open his mail? Or answer telephone?”
"Yes, of course. All the time.”
"Were there ever any letters or calls from.. hesitated and then thought Go ahead, bite the "Were there ever any letters or calls from w, "Yes, of course," she said.
"Any women in particular?”
"I don't know what you mean," she said.
"Any women who wrote or called more than.., well.., might have seemed appropriate.”
"I still don't know what you're saying.”
“Well..." he said, and hesitated. "We to believe that Father Michael may have involved in something he didn't know ht handle. Something that was causing him distress you know of anything like that, you'd be helping a lot by.. “