'And so what comes to mind in the contest of witchcraft?'
The Jesuit sat down slowly, looking pensive. 'Well,' he said finally, 'supposedly demons broke the necks of witches that way. At least, that's the myth.'
'A myth?'
'Oh, largely,' he said, turning to Kinderman. 'Although people did die that way, I suppose: likely members of a coven who either defected or gave away secrets. That's just a guess. But I know it was a trademark of demonic assassins.'
Kinderman nodded. 'Exactly. Exactly. I remembered the connection from a murder in London. That's now. I mean, lately, just four or five years ago, Father. I remembered that I read it in the papers.'
'Yes, I read it too, but I think it turned out to be some sort of hoax. Am I wrong?'
'No, that's right, Father, absolutely right. But in this case, at least, you can see some connection, maybe, with that and the things in the church. Maybe somebody crazy, Father, maybe someone with a spite against the Church. Some unconscious rebellion, perhaps...'
'Sick priest,' murmured Karras. 'That it?'
'Listen, you re the psychiatrist, Father; you tell me.'
'Well, of course, the desecrations are clearly pathological,' Karras said thoughtfully, slipping on his sweater. 'And if Dennings was murdered---well, I'd guess that the killer's pathological too.'
'And perhaps had some knowledge of witchcraft?'
'Could be.'
'Could be,' the detective grunted. 'So who fits the bill, also lives in the neighborhood, and also has access in the night to the church?'
'Sick priest,' Karras said, reaching out moodily beside him to a pair of sun-bleached khaki pants.
'Listen, Father, this is hard for you---please!---I understand. But for priests on the campus here, you're the psychiatrist, Father, so---'
'No, I've had a change of assignment.'
'Oh, really? In the middle of the year?'
'That's the Order,' Karras shrugged as he pulled on the pants.
'Still, you'd know who was sick at the time and who wasn't, correct? I mean, this kind of sickness. You'd know that.'
'No, not necessarily, Lieutenant. Not at all. It would only be an accident, in fact, if I did. You see, I'm not a psychoanalyst. All I do is counsel. Anyway,' he commented, buttoning his trousers, 'I really know of no one who fits the description.'
'Ah, yes; doctor's ethics. If you knew. You wouldn't tell.'
'No, I probably wouldn't.'
'Incidentally---and I mention it only in passing---this ethic is lately considered illegal. Not to bother you with trivia, but lately a psychiatrist in sunny California, no less, was put in jail for not telling the police what he knew about a patient.'
'That a threat?'
'Don't talk paranoid. I mention it in passing.'
'I could always tell the judge it was a matter of confession,' said the Jesuit, grinning wryly as he stood to tuck his shirt in. 'Plainly speaking,' he added.
The detective glanced up at him, faintly gloomy. 'Want to go into business, Father?' he said Then looked away dismally. ' 'Father'... what 'Father'?' he asked rhetorically. 'You're a Jew; I could tell when I met you.'
The Jesuit chuckled.
'Yes, laugh,' said Kinderman. 'Laugh.' But then he smiled, looking impishly pleased with himself. He turned with beaming eyes. 'That reminds me. The entrance examination to be a policeman, Father? When I took it, one question went something like: 'What are rabies and what would you do for them?' Know what some dumbhead put down for an answer? Emis? 'Rabies,' he said, 'are Jew priests, and I would do anything that I could for them.' Honest!' He'd raised up a hand as in oath.
Karras laughed. 'Come on, I'll walk you to your car. Are you parked in the lot?'
The detective looked up at him, reluctant to move. 'Then we're finished?'
The priest put a foot on the bench, leaning over, an arm resting heavily on his knee. 'Look, I'm really not covering up,' he said. 'Really. If I knew of a priest like the one you're looking for, the least I would do is to tell you that there was such a man without giving you his name. Then I guess I'd report it to the Provincial. But I don't know of anyone who even comes close.'
'Ah, well,' the detective sighed. 'I never thought it was a priest in the first place. Not really.' He nodded toward the parking lot. 'Yes, I'm over there.'
They started walking.
'What I really suspect,' the detective continued, 'if I said it out loud you would call me a nut. I don't know. I don't know.' He was shaking his head. 'All these clubs and these cults where they kill for no reason. It makes you start thinking peculiar things. To keep up with the times, these days, you have to be a little bit crazy.'
Karras nodded.
