“How long were you there at the house?”
“Fifteen minutes, something like that,” Bergen said. He’d turned himself to face Lucas more directly.
“Did you eat anything?”
“Cupcakes. A glass of milk,” Bergen said.
“Were the cupcakes hot?”
“No, but as a matter of fact, she was frosting them while we talked.”
“When you left, did you stop anywhere on the way out? Even pause?”
“No.”
“So you went right out to your Jeep, got in, drove as fast as seemed reasonable to get out of the road.”
“Well . . . I probably fiddled around in the Jeep for a minute before I left, a minute or two,” Bergen said. He knewwhere they were going, and began to stretch the time. “But I didn’t see any sign of trouble before I left.”
“Was the television on?” Lucas asked.
“Mmm, no, I don’t think so.”
“How about the radio?”
“No. We were talking,” Bergen said.
“Was there a newspaper on the table?”
“I just can’t remember,” Bergen said, his voice rising. “What are these questions?”
“Can you remember anything that would be peculiar to this day, that you saw inside the LaCourt house, that might still be there, that might have survived the fire? A book sitting on a table? Anything?”
“Well . . .” The priest scratched the side of his nose. “No, not particularly. I’ll think about it. There must be something.”
“Did you look at the clock when you got home?”
“No. But I hadn’t been here long when Shelly called.”
Lucas looked at Carr. “Shelly, could you call in and have somebody patch you through to the LaCourt house, and tell somebody to go into the kitchen and check to see if there was a bowl of frosting.”
He turned his head back to Bergen: “Was the frosting in a bowl or out of one of those cans?”
“Bowl.”
To Carr: “ . . . check and see if there was a frosting bowl or a cupcake tin in the sink or around the table.”
“Sure.”
“She might have washed the dishes,” Bergen suggested.
“There couldn’t have been too much time,” Lucas said.
“Use the office phone, Shelly,” the priest said to Carr.
He and Lucas watched the sheriff pad down the hall, then Lucas asked, “Did Frank LaCourt come outside when you left?”
“No. He said good-bye at the door. At the kitchen table, actually. Claudia came to the door. Did you go to Catholic schools?”
“Through high school,” Lucas said.
“Is this what they taught you? To interrogate priests?”
“Your being a priest doesn’t cut any ice with me,” Lucas said. “You’ve seen all the scandals these last few years. That stuff was out there for years and you guys hid it. There were a half a dozen gay brothers at my school and everybody knew it. And they affected more than a few kids.”
Bergen stared at him for a moment, then half-turned and shook his head.
“Was Frank LaCourt wearing outdoor clothing or look like he was getting ready to go outside?” Lucas asked, returning to the questions.
“No.” Bergen was subdued now, his voice gone dark.
“Did you see anyone else there?”
“No.”
“Did Frank have a pair of snowshoes around?” Lucas asked.
“Not that I saw.”
“Did you see any snowshoe tracks outside the door?”
“No.” Bergen shook his head. “I didn’t. But it was snowing.”
“Did you pass any cars on the way out?”
“No. How far is it from the corner by the firehouse back to LaCourts’?”
“One-point-one miles,” Lucas said.
Bergen shook his head. “I’m a careful driver. I said it took a minute or two to get out to the corner, but two minutes would be thirty miles an hour. I wasn’t doing thirty. I was probably going a lot slower than that. And I was pulling my trailer.”
“Snowmobile?”
“Yes, I’d been out with the club, the Grant Scramblers, you can check with them.”
Carr came back: “They’re looking,” he said. “They’ll call back.”
Lucas looked at Carr. “If we have somebody waiting for Father
“Fifteen minutes, something like that,” Bergen said. He’d turned himself to face Lucas more directly.
“Did you eat anything?”
“Cupcakes. A glass of milk,” Bergen said.
“Were the cupcakes hot?”
“No, but as a matter of fact, she was frosting them while we talked.”
“When you left, did you stop anywhere on the way out? Even pause?”
“No.”
“So you went right out to your Jeep, got in, drove as fast as seemed reasonable to get out of the road.”
“Well . . . I probably fiddled around in the Jeep for a minute before I left, a minute or two,” Bergen said. He knewwhere they were going, and began to stretch the time. “But I didn’t see any sign of trouble before I left.”
“Was the television on?” Lucas asked.
“Mmm, no, I don’t think so.”
“How about the radio?”
“No. We were talking,” Bergen said.
“Was there a newspaper on the table?”
“I just can’t remember,” Bergen said, his voice rising. “What are these questions?”
“Can you remember anything that would be peculiar to this day, that you saw inside the LaCourt house, that might still be there, that might have survived the fire? A book sitting on a table? Anything?”
“Well . . .” The priest scratched the side of his nose. “No, not particularly. I’ll think about it. There must be something.”
“Did you look at the clock when you got home?”
“No. But I hadn’t been here long when Shelly called.”
Lucas looked at Carr. “Shelly, could you call in and have somebody patch you through to the LaCourt house, and tell somebody to go into the kitchen and check to see if there was a bowl of frosting.”
He turned his head back to Bergen: “Was the frosting in a bowl or out of one of those cans?”
“Bowl.”
To Carr: “ . . . check and see if there was a frosting bowl or a cupcake tin in the sink or around the table.”
“Sure.”
“She might have washed the dishes,” Bergen suggested.
“There couldn’t have been too much time,” Lucas said.
“Use the office phone, Shelly,” the priest said to Carr.
He and Lucas watched the sheriff pad down the hall, then Lucas asked, “Did Frank LaCourt come outside when you left?”
“No. He said good-bye at the door. At the kitchen table, actually. Claudia came to the door. Did you go to Catholic schools?”
“Through high school,” Lucas said.
“Is this what they taught you? To interrogate priests?”
“Your being a priest doesn’t cut any ice with me,” Lucas said. “You’ve seen all the scandals these last few years. That stuff was out there for years and you guys hid it. There were a half a dozen gay brothers at my school and everybody knew it. And they affected more than a few kids.”
Bergen stared at him for a moment, then half-turned and shook his head.
“Was Frank LaCourt wearing outdoor clothing or look like he was getting ready to go outside?” Lucas asked, returning to the questions.
“No.” Bergen was subdued now, his voice gone dark.
“Did you see anyone else there?”
“No.”
“Did Frank have a pair of snowshoes around?” Lucas asked.
“Not that I saw.”
“Did you see any snowshoe tracks outside the door?”
“No.” Bergen shook his head. “I didn’t. But it was snowing.”
“Did you pass any cars on the way out?”
“No. How far is it from the corner by the firehouse back to LaCourts’?”
“One-point-one miles,” Lucas said.
Bergen shook his head. “I’m a careful driver. I said it took a minute or two to get out to the corner, but two minutes would be thirty miles an hour. I wasn’t doing thirty. I was probably going a lot slower than that. And I was pulling my trailer.”
“Snowmobile?”
“Yes, I’d been out with the club, the Grant Scramblers, you can check with them.”
Carr came back: “They’re looking,” he said. “They’ll call back.”
Lucas looked at Carr. “If we have somebody waiting for Father
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