“He did it, Chief, I can feel it in my bones,” said Chase.
“Which isn’t to say we shouldn’t keep an open mind,” Uncle Alec added. “So talk to Stephanie Felfan again, and her parents. Talk to her husband’s folks. See what else you can dig up. It’s only going to make your case stronger, buddy,” he said when Chase made to interrupt.
“Fine,” the detective finally said. “We’ll look at other suspects. But I’m willing to bet good money that Crowley is our guy.”
“Betting during office hours is strictly prohibited,” the Chief warned. “And now go. Find me some more suspects—this one isn’t going anywhere, I promise you.”
[Êàðòèíêà: img_4]
When Vesta laid eyes on her old friend Francis Reilly she was shocked. The man looked terrible. In fact she had never seen him like this before. The priest was always neatly attired, cleanly shaven, perfectly coiffed, and soft-spoken. Now he looked as if he’d been through a bacchanal of Romanesque proportions.
“What do you want!” he slurred when she managed to wake him up. “Leave me alone, woman!”
“I will not leave you alone, Francis,” said Vesta with determination.
Her friend Scarlett, whom she had brought along, and also Tex, who was there as much in his capacity as a doctor but also as a personal friend of the priest, were both equally shocked and appalled.
“He’s in a terrible state,” said Scarlett, who had wrinkled her nose in abhorrence at the smell of drink and lack of hygiene. “He’s not dying, is he?”
“No, he’s not,” said Tex. “He’s drunk, that’s what he is.”
“So we need to sober him up,” said Vesta. “And get rid of that stuff over there.” She was pointing to the bottles of sacramental wine. It broke her heart to say it but she was compelled to by the circumstances. “Better get rid of them. You better do it, Tex. I can’t.”
“I’ll do it,” said Scarlett.
“No!” said Vesta, who knew how much her friend loved a good glass of wine. “Maybe just leave them. Some bum who visits these woods might get lucky and find them.”
“We can’t leave them here!” said Scarlett. “That’s some perfectly fine wine!”
“You’re on the wagon, remember?” said Vesta.
After she and Tex had gone dry, she had convinced Scarlett to do the same. Her friend had always been a social drinker. A drink for every occasion. But lately she was also drinking when she wasn’t visiting people or going out. Once Vesta had even found her passed out on the couch, an empty bottle of Prosecco on the floor. So it was high time that she joined the AA—in fact the whole town should probably join that fine organization. But perhaps that was too ambitious. For now she would suffice with her closest friends and relatives. Like Francis Reilly.
“And you’re saying he’s been like this since Marigold left?” asked Tex.
“Yeah, he was dragging his feet on the marriage business, so she left him.”
“That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?” said Scarlett who was making sure she didn’t touch anything located in the shack, and clearly couldn’t wait to get out of there.
“Harsh or not, the man took it badly, and it’s up to us to be there for him.”
“Maybe we can ask Marigold to come back?” Scarlett suggested. “The moment she hears about what happened, she might have a change of heart.”
“I doubt it. Now let’s get Francis out of here, shall we?”
“I’m not touching that,” said Scarlett with a look of distaste. “He smells.”
“So take a bath when we’re done. I’m sure you’ve touched men in far worse conditions.”
Scarlett shot her an indignant look but finally relented.“Fine. But I’m not going in the shower with him. You’ll have to do that.”
“I’m not going in the shower with him!”
They both looked to Tex, who sputtered,“I’m not taking a shower with him!”
“Why not? You’re the doctor,” said Vesta with perfect logic. “And you’re a man.”
And so it was decided. And as they took Francis under the armpits—which were pretty ripe, Vesta had to admit—they managed to get the priest out of the shack and into the car, which they’d driven along the old dirt road that led deep into the woods.
When Harriet and Brutus had told them what had happened, it hadn’t taken Vesta long to take decisive action. Now that she was following the twelve-step program, she felt as if she had finally found her true purpose in life: helping people, even if they didn’t necessarily want to be helped. Like Francis. But it was for his own good. So she’d assembled her troops: Tex and Scarlett, and here they were, executing her plan. First they were going to clean him up, then they were going to put some fresh clothes on the man, and finally they were going to keep an eye on him, making sure he ate his three square meals a day, and no alcohol!