“When I left the other day you had a strange expression on your face. You seemed frightened of me.”

He nodded. “You looked like you were ready to kill me. I’ve never seen such hatred in anyone’s eyes.”

“But it was still me?”

He hesitated. “Who else would it be?”

I told him, all of it, starting with what I had seen going home with Duff. I was interrupted several times by people going in and out of church, stopping to chat with him.

When I finished he said, “Don’t panic. Come over to the rectory and have some coffee.”

“And go through an inquisition by Father Fogarty?”

“He has the next Mass. He won’t have time to bother you.”

I went along to the rectory dining room. Mrs. Guenther brought us coffee and rolls, silently indicating her disapproval of my being there. Then Father Fogarty came in. He didn’t seem overjoyed at seeing me either.

“How are you coming with the devil business at her place?”

Father Jackson winced. “I’ve been trying to help Mrs. Caine—”

“She could help herself if she’d get down on her knees. Does she know how her trouble has been passed on to us?”

“I don’t think you have any evidence—”

Father Fogarty shook his finger under his assistant’s nose. “When you leave an ungodly loophole anywhere, then that fella can slip in and do his dirty work in even holy places.” Then he left without even a nod in my direction.

Father Jackson sighed. “Now about this new development.”

“Skip it.” I finished my coffee. “I’ll go back to my ungodly loophole.”

“Forget that. And you’re not Margaret Dorn.”

“Not now.”

“None of the time. It’s all just the result of a subconscious suggestion.”

“What about what you saw Saturday?”

“I’ll admit you seemed changed, but it was only because you were so angry.” He sighed. “I wish Jim could’ve stayed another day.”

“Tell me now what he meant when he asked if I was left-handed.”

“When we were having drinks at the motel it seemed to him that you were acting strangely. You’d pick up your glass with your right hand, but then your left hand would snatch it away. The same thing happened a couple of times when you picked up your purse.”

“She must have been left-­handed.”

“Forget it, Maggie. There’s probably no way of finding that out anyway.”

“I’m going to find out one thing about her. I’m going to find out if she’s still buried in that graveyard.”

“Maggie, you can’t do anything like that!”

“I have to know if they’re using her remains the way they’re probably using General Caine’s.”

“Jim said you had the problem and not your son.”

“You son of a bitch!” I went to the front door.

He followed me. “Maggie, I still want to help you.”