day here.”
“Strange, I should have thought computers, like many other modern devices, would be shunned by an order such as yours. Father,” Lucas said.
“We have to adapt with the times.”
“Sort of fighting fire with fire?”
“Pardon?”
“You know, turn the devil's own devices against him.”
“We have been known to do that over the years, but I don't personally perceive technological advances as belonging to Satan, no. In the right, capable hands, computers, TVs, movies can and often are uplifting to the moral spirit of man.”
When they were all seated in the plush leather chairs here, Lucas studied the priest's eyes, which seemed etched in pain. He had obviously fought back the devil in all his many disguises, Lucas thought.
“So, please, how can I help you?”
“We have reason to believe that you were with Judge Mootry the night he was killed.”
“Really? But I told Detectives Pardee and Amelford that I was out of town that evening, gave them the exact location and time, and this was all verified. The detectives questioned me, but they said it was routine to question all of the deceased's closest relatives and friends, and I counted myself among his-”
“You shared a nightcap-wine, you and the judge; we found the glasses-goblets, actually,” bluffed Lucas, “and there were prints on them.”
The priest smiled, looking amused. “You must be trying to bait me, Detective. Someone's prints, perhaps, but not mine,” he insisted, holding his own. “Look, I understand why you're here, but-”
“You do?” asked Meredyth.
“Because my church was awarded a goodly sum from the judge's estate, but that was his wish’s-nothing foisted on him. My God, you can't possibly believe I would kill the old gentleman for his inheritance, can you?” He stared at their poker faces and then added, “Perhaps if you had an independent audit of our books here. You're welcome to do so. In fact, we're due for an audit, and if the Houston Police Department would like to pay an auditing firm to come in-”
'That might not be a bad idea,” countered Lucas. “We'll run it by our superiors.”
“Father Aguilar, we know about your association with at least two other victims of the crossbow killers,” said Meredyth.
“Killers? Did you say killers? Are there more than one? Dear God.”
“We know you had some dealings with Wesley Palmer and Timothy Kenneth Little. Now that kind of coincidence involving murder doesn't just go away, Father,” continued Meredyth. “In fact, we're rather surprised that you yourself didn't report the strange coincidence and connection between these men to authorities.”
“But I did.”
“You did?”
“Absolutely.”
“You told Pardee and Amelford, you mean?”
“Before they found me, I talked to a captain on the force, Captain… ahh, Lawrence, yes, Lawrence.”
Meredyth and Lucas exchanged a look of biting concern. Father Aguilar dropped his gaze and suddenly threw up his hands, saying, “All right… I confess.” It was the first sign of any chink in his armor. “I now confess…”
Lucas's eyes bored into the man and Meredyth's mouth dropped open. Could it be so easy?
“I have been worried about my own life after these atrocities. All of us, you see, were in school together, college fraternity, actually…
'Texas Christian,” added Meredyth. “We know.”
“Then you must see that whoever these fiends are, they have some vendetta against us from when we were young people. Something we did; somehow we wronged someone, perhaps unknowingly…”
Lucas wasn't sure he could buy into the priest's distraught act, but he withheld judgment.
“Palmer, Little, Mootry, they all contributed grand sums here to keep the order going; we would have had to shut down years before now if I had not prevailed upon my richer friends for funds, don't you see?”
“What're you saying?” asked Meredyth. “That whoever has killed these men did so because they feel a hatred toward the church?”
“No, a hatred toward the well-to-do, the wealthy; and believing their money tainted, evil, they might easily think the same of me and my church. I have, for a long time now, watched my back.”
“Exactly how much did Mootry leave you, your monastery, in his will?” asked Lucas.
“He was a wise man. He left a self-perpetuating legacy.”
“I see.” Men have killed for a hell of a lot less, Lucas thought, his eyes boring into the priest.
“I'm sorry that I am such a disappointment to you,” said Father Aguilar, “that I could not be of more help. But I've told you everything.”
“Why haven't you requested police protection?” asked Lucas, still skeptical of the man beneath the robe.
Aguilar shook his head and raised both his hands, each hand seemingly independent of the other, fluttering birdlike as if to indicate all that was around them. “No man can protect me if my God calls me to Him.”
Meredyth asked if they could see the rest of the order, commenting on how vast it appeared from the outside. “And what is it you use the fires for?”
“I'm sorry, but your presence here has already disrupted the life of the brothers,” he replied. “As to the kiln, we make our own pottery, filling orders all the time. It's quite popular, and it's our main source of revenue.?'
“Aside from legacies, you mean?” asked Lucas.
Meredyth pinched him. “How many in your order?” she asked.
“It varies, given the time of year, but currently there are twenty-nine brothers.”
“Really?” asked Lucas. “That many celibates left in Houston?”
“It is a place where men can step away from the rigors, stress, temptation, and ugliness of our modem world to study, reflect, and find their true selves, to get in touch with the one true God.” He stood to indicate their time was up.
Lucas remained tenacious, however, asking, “Can we meet some of the brothers?”
“As I said, it would be disruptive for them. This is a holy place of meditation, worship, reflection. You… you bring only discord and disharmony. Why, it exudes from your very pores, Mr. Stonecoat.”
“Just a few questions, Father.”
'They are reclusive for a reason.
“A reason like murder?”
Such foul thoughts…”
“Do you think a court order would make them and you less reclusive?” badgered Lucas as Meredyth tried to get him to settle down and shut up.
Aguilar gritted his teeth, controlling himself, and seething, he added, “I know something of the law myself, Detective. You have no mitigating circumstances to warrant such a disruption in the house of the Lord. Now, if you please.”
“Oh, you have friends in high places, in the legal system?”
“Everyone must have friends in the legal profession to get by in today's madhouse, yes.”
“Friends such as Judge Mootry?”
“Yes, he was my dearest friend, and as I said, I now fear for my own life.”
“And what about Pierce Dalton?” Lucas saw the twitch, almost imperceptible in the man's eye.
“Dalton? I only know Dalton as Mootry's attorney.”
“He was at Texas Christian about the time you were there.”
“It was a large campus.”
“What did you talk about with Mootry the night he was killed?”
“Damn you, man! I wasn't there!” He threw open the door and called to Leonard, shouting, “Show these kind people out, Leonard.”
