It's Hard To Be Holy

EP. 96: Chapter II (Cont'd)

Coarse and Offensive Language. Reader Discretion Advised.

But Detective Mooney would not stop searching!

Despite the mounting questions and discordant theories that plagued her without relief, Alanna Kathleen continued to be relentless in her pursuit to solve the Father Peter case. Time and again she could be found, marching up and down the streets of St. Gregory's, knocking on the doors of the parishioners to try and poke holes in the statements they had given. Not to catch them out in a confession of murder, but rather, to paint a more complete picture of the victim in question.

'He wasn't very supportive of us,' said Mrs. Donavan, exasperated and not caring to hide the truth. 'Like the rest of the church...He didn't like none of this busing stuff. Took their side. The niggers, I mean. Well, we let him know how we felt about all that.'

'Whose we?'

'Mrs. Fitzgerald and me. We had it out good with him.'

When questioned later that afternoon, Mrs. Fitzgerald did not deny any argument. 'Yeah,' she said, puffing up at the indignation of being questioned in the street like a common criminal. 'We had words. Strong words! I told him I thought he was turnin' his back on this parish. And after all we'd done for him. He didn't like that. No, he didn't like that one bit.'

'What did he say?'

'What could he say? It was the truth. He went his way and I went mine...' then her eyes suddenly expanded, and, as people tend to do in circumstances such as these, became very defensive. 'I hope you don't think I'm goin' around shootin' priests!'

'No, I didn't say that—'

'This is what I've been sayin' to people! This is what happens when people are tread upon too long. They go crazy. This is the evil we're fightin' against. Father Peter couldn't see it. None of 'em up in City Hall seem to understand. This is what happens when you try and force people to go against their wills. Madness!'

Alanna, finding herself more and more willing to entertain all manner of wild theories, even herself struggled to see the link between busing and Father Peter's murder. Plenty of clergymen, from Cardinal Mederios on down, opposed segregation, and none of them had ended up dead in their rectory for it. As much as she would have loved to place the blame on Mrs. Fitzgerald, the detective had a hard time imagining the lady executing anybody. Strange things often happened in St. Gregory's, but nothing that strange...

By the end of the January,  pressure had begun to mount on the detective  to solve the case. Pressure on all sides.

At home, Christopher would not forget the promise Alanna had made him, and he did not hide his displeasure in her breaking said promise.

'What do you want me to do? Not my job?!' she shot at him over one particularly tense breakfast.

'I've never said that. I never—but you promised you wouldn't go back.'

'That's really not helpful to me right now.'

'I'm just remindin' you—'

'I don't need remindin', Christopher. You're actin' like a child. You know that?! 'You promised',' she started to mimic, "you promised—" Their argument, verging on a fight, was interrupted by the arrival of Michelle, but the load was not to be lightened. Between the increasingly late hours Alanna kept, the snapping and snipping of the couple grew more common, both content to scratch, but still not ready to wound, fearing such a thing could be fatal.