Bergen to leave, and if he lures Frank LaCourt outside somehow, right away, kills him, then kills the other two, burns the place immediately and gets out, in a frenzy, and if you build a little extra time in between the firemen’sarrival at the place and finding the bodies—we could almost make it.”
Carr looked at Bergen, who seemed to ponder what Lucas had said. He’d chosen Lucas as the enemy, but now Lucas had changed direction.
“Okay,” Carr said, nodding. To Bergen: “I hated to hit you with it, Phil, but there did seem to be a problem. We can probably figure it out. When you were there, what were you talking about? I mean, it’s not confessional stuff, is it? I . . .”
“Actually, we were talking about the Tuesday services and the concept of an exchange with Home Baptist. I wanted to get some ground rules straight.”
“Oh.” Now Carr looked uncomfortable. “Well, we can figure that out later.”
“What’s all this about?” Lucas asked.
“Church stuff, an argument that’s going around,” Carr said.
“Could somebody get killed over it?”
Bergen was startled. “Good grief, no! You might not get invited to a party, but you wouldn’t get killed.”
Carr glanced at him, frowned. The phone rang down the hallway, and the priest said, “Let me get that.” A moment later he returned with a portable handset and passed it to Carr. “For you.”
Carr took it, said, “This is the sheriff,” then, “Yeah.” He listened for a moment, said, “Okay, okay, and I’ll see you out there in a bit . . . okay.” He pushed the clear button and turned to Lucas: “There was a bowl in the sink that could have been used to make frosting. No frosting in it, but it was the right kind of bowl.”
“Like I told you,” said Bergen.
“Okay,” Lucas said.
“If we’re done here, I’m going back out to the LaCourt place,” Carr said. He picked up his snowmobile suit and began pulling it over his feet. “I’m sorry we bothered you, Phil, but we had to ask.”
“These killings are . . . grotesque,” the priest said, shaking his head. “Obscene. I’ll start thinking about a funeralservice, something to say to the town.”
“That’ll be a while yet. We’ll have to send them down to Milwaukee for autopsies,” Carr said. “I’ll stay in touch.”
When they were outside again, Carr asked, “Are you coming back out to LaCourts’?”
Lucas shook his head. “Nah. There’s nothing there for me. I’d suggest you button the place up. Post some deputies to keep out the curiosity-seekers and coyotes, and wait for the Madison guys.”
“I’ll do that. Actually, I could do it from here, but . . . politics.” He was apologetic. “I gotta be out there a lot the next couple of days.”
Lucas nodded. “Same way in the Cities.”
“How about Phil? What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said. Far away, somebody started a chain saw. They both turned to look up the street toward the sound, but there was nothing visible but garage and yard lights. The sound was an abrasive underline to the conversation. “We still don’t have enough time. Not really. The bowl thing hardly clears him. But who knows? Maybe a big gust of wind scoured off the roof and put that snow on LaCourt in two minutes.”
“Could be,” Carr said.
“This Baptist thing—that’s no big deal?” Lucas asked.
“It’s a bigger deal than he was making it,” Carr said. “What do you know about Pentecostals?”
“Nothing.”
“Pentecostals believe in direct contact with God. The Catholic Church has taught that only the Church is a reliable interpreter of God’s word. The Church doesn’t trust the idea of direct access. Too many bad things have come of it in the past. But some Catholics—more and more all the time—believe you can have a valid experience.”
“Yeah?” Lucas had been out of touch.
“Baptists rely on direct access. Some of the local Pentecostal Catholics, like Claudia, were
Carr looked at Bergen, who seemed to ponder what Lucas had said. He’d chosen Lucas as the enemy, but now Lucas had changed direction.
“Okay,” Carr said, nodding. To Bergen: “I hated to hit you with it, Phil, but there did seem to be a problem. We can probably figure it out. When you were there, what were you talking about? I mean, it’s not confessional stuff, is it? I . . .”
“Actually, we were talking about the Tuesday services and the concept of an exchange with Home Baptist. I wanted to get some ground rules straight.”
“Oh.” Now Carr looked uncomfortable. “Well, we can figure that out later.”
“What’s all this about?” Lucas asked.
“Church stuff, an argument that’s going around,” Carr said.
“Could somebody get killed over it?”
Bergen was startled. “Good grief, no! You might not get invited to a party, but you wouldn’t get killed.”
Carr glanced at him, frowned. The phone rang down the hallway, and the priest said, “Let me get that.” A moment later he returned with a portable handset and passed it to Carr. “For you.”
Carr took it, said, “This is the sheriff,” then, “Yeah.” He listened for a moment, said, “Okay, okay, and I’ll see you out there in a bit . . . okay.” He pushed the clear button and turned to Lucas: “There was a bowl in the sink that could have been used to make frosting. No frosting in it, but it was the right kind of bowl.”
“Like I told you,” said Bergen.
“Okay,” Lucas said.
“If we’re done here, I’m going back out to the LaCourt place,” Carr said. He picked up his snowmobile suit and began pulling it over his feet. “I’m sorry we bothered you, Phil, but we had to ask.”
“These killings are . . . grotesque,” the priest said, shaking his head. “Obscene. I’ll start thinking about a funeralservice, something to say to the town.”
“That’ll be a while yet. We’ll have to send them down to Milwaukee for autopsies,” Carr said. “I’ll stay in touch.”
When they were outside again, Carr asked, “Are you coming back out to LaCourts’?”
Lucas shook his head. “Nah. There’s nothing there for me. I’d suggest you button the place up. Post some deputies to keep out the curiosity-seekers and coyotes, and wait for the Madison guys.”
“I’ll do that. Actually, I could do it from here, but . . . politics.” He was apologetic. “I gotta be out there a lot the next couple of days.”
Lucas nodded. “Same way in the Cities.”
“How about Phil? What do you think?”
“I don’t know,” Lucas said. Far away, somebody started a chain saw. They both turned to look up the street toward the sound, but there was nothing visible but garage and yard lights. The sound was an abrasive underline to the conversation. “We still don’t have enough time. Not really. The bowl thing hardly clears him. But who knows? Maybe a big gust of wind scoured off the roof and put that snow on LaCourt in two minutes.”
“Could be,” Carr said.
“This Baptist thing—that’s no big deal?” Lucas asked.
“It’s a bigger deal than he was making it,” Carr said. “What do you know about Pentecostals?”
“Nothing.”
“Pentecostals believe in direct contact with God. The Catholic Church has taught that only the Church is a reliable interpreter of God’s word. The Church doesn’t trust the idea of direct access. Too many bad things have come of it in the past. But some Catholics—more and more all the time—believe you can have a valid experience.”
“Yeah?” Lucas had been out of touch.
“Baptists rely on direct access. Some of the local Pentecostal Catholics, like Claudia, were
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