It's Hard To Be Holy

EP. 95: Chapter II (Cont'd)

Coarse and Offensive Language. Reader Discretion Advised.

The reasoning behind the Superintendent's change of heart did occur to Detective Mooney. There was no direct proof of his machinations, but it did not take a great imagination to see what the man hoped for. Terrance P. Walsh was many things, but he was never in life or death accused of subtlety. But Alanna Kathleen did not mind his suppositions regarding her potential failure. She had enough belief in her own abilities to be guarded from any other's doubt.

And she would need every ounce of that self-belief!

The murder of Father Peter proved to be as maddening and impossible a case as any that the unit had ever encountered. St. Gregory's Parish, while in a state of shock and dismay, both at the killing and the callous way that the media descended upon them—'They only care about makin' us look bad!' cried Mrs. Fitzgerald, still flogging her case against integration, but now hurt by the lack of attention—did not welcome the eldest Carr back home with open arms. Alanna Kathleen Mooney had made a decided point to reintroduce herself with her title and maiden name—she still was not ready to meld those two parts of her life together—hoping that the sheer awe of her accomplishments and standing might shock her former brethren into some respect and honesty.

It did not. In fact, the detective's pride only encouraged more ridicule, something she might have expected if she had cared to return home more often. One look at her official presence, and all her erstwhile neighbors responded to her questions and investigations with a homogeneous:

'Fuck off!' And that was what was said when they were being respectful. 

Many were not.

'Detective Carr?!' snickered Margo Kane. 'Detective?! Ralph!' she called to her brother. 'Ralph! Get a load of Detective Carr here! Get a badge and suddenly she's all la-di-fuckin'-da! Detective! Ha!'

'There is a silver linin','  Bernard, husband of Bella the organist, was overheard telling Tanned Bob as they gathered in front of the church for a vigil. 'At least the doughnut shops have nothin' to worry about.' Those who heard the joke first hand found it very funny, and they made it their mission to ensure that it was relayed to the parish wide by the end of the night.

Fuck them! Alanna thought, and it was a comforting and invigorating thought to be had. Sure, Margo Kane had her quips, and Bernard had said nothing her own siblings had not often mocked in youth, but when the insults had run dry, when the smirks and chuckles had died on the ugly faces, there was no where for those slanderers to run. They could not simply dismiss her. They, the people of St. Gregory's, had to stand and answer the questions of the representative of the law. They had to fear Alanna Kathleen's authority.

And by God, she would put His fear into them if need be—and there might have been a prayer or two for that need to arise.

To return to St. Gregory's under all the pomp and circumstance and prerogative of police sirens was the greatest chance the eldest Carr would ever have to prove she was better than them all. This was her golden ticket to rub it in their mocking faces. Niamh's 'Fat One' no more.

But Alanna Kathleen knew she must not become so infatuated with her power. To prove betterment to kith and kin might be satisfying on a personal level, but there was more at stake than individual grudges. This was her opportunity to prove absolute betterment of profession, and that was where betterment counted the most.

'Don't make me regret this,' Superintendent Walsh had told her, chuckling as he did, but Alanna wouldn't! She could not wait to shove her success in his bejowled face. She was the best—no, the only!—detective qualified to lead this investigation. This was as close to a birthright as she had ever come. No one else knew the environs of the parish, the ins-and-outs, like she did. No one else knew the traditions and schedules of those many St. Gregorites, who, in the ten years since her quiet departure, had not deviated in the slightest from their routines. Only she was qualified to bring justice to St. Gregory's, not only the killer, but, she liked to imagine, the whole of the place.