Miller stood up. “So you can’t help us then?”
“I didn’t say that. I’ll talk to him. Hear what he has to say. Would you wait outside for a few minutes?”
“Certainly, but I’d like to see him again in your presence before we leave.”
“As you wish.”
They went out and Monsignor O’Halloran pressed a button on the intercom on his desk. Til see Father da Costa now.”
It was a bad business and he felt unaccountably depressed in a personal sense. He stared out at the rain swept garden wondering what on earth he was going to say to da Costa and then the door clicked open behind him.
He turned slowly as da Costa crossed to the desk. “Michael, what on earth am I going to do with you?”
Tm sorry, Monsignor,” Father da Costa said formally, “but this situation was not of my choosing.”
“They never are,” Monsignor O’Halloran said wryly as he sat down. Is it true what they suppose? Is this business connected in some way with the confessional?”
“Yes,” Father da Costa said simply.
“I thought so. The Superintendent was right, of course. As he said in his letter, it was the only explanation that made any kind of sense.” He sighed heavily and shook his head. “I would imagine he intends to take this thing further. Are you prepared for that?”
“Of course,” Father da Costa answered calmly.
“Then we’d better get it over with,” Monsignor O’Halloran pressed the button on the intercom again. “Send in Super-intendent Miller and Inspector Fitzgerald.” He chuckled. “It has a certain black humour, this whole business. You must admit.”
“Has it, Monsignor?”
“But of course. They sent you to Holy Name as a punish-ment, didn’t they? To teach you a little humility and here you are, up to your ears in scandal again.” He smiled wryly, “I can see the expression on the Bishop’s face now.”
The door opened and Miller and Fitzgerald were ushered in again. Miller nodded to da Costa. “Good morning, Father.”
Monsignor O’Halloran pushed himself up on to his feet again, conscious that somehow the situation demanded it. He said, I’ve discussed this matter with Father da Costa, Super-intendent To be perfectly frank, there doesn’t seem to be a great deal I can do.”
“I see, sir.” Miller turned to Father da Costa, Til ask you again, Father, and for the last time. Are you prepared to help us?”
Tm sorry, Superintendent,” Father da Costa told him.
“So am I, Father.” Miller was chillingly formal now. I’ve discussed the situation with my chief constable and this is what I’ve decided to do. A report on this whole affair and your part in it goes to the Director of Public Prosecutions today to take what action he thinks fit.”
“And where do you think that will get you?” Monsignor O’Halloran asked him.
“I should think there’s an excellent chance that they’ll issue a warrant for the arrest of Father da Costa on a charge of being an accessory after the fact of murder.”
Monsignor O’Halloran looked grave and yet he shook his head slowly. “You’re wasting your time, Superintendent. They won’t play. They’ll never issue such a warrant.”
“We’ll see, sir,” Miller turned and went out followed by Fitzgerald.
Monsignor O’Halloran sighed heavily and sat down. “So there we are. Now we wait.”
Tm sorry, Monsignor,” Father da Costa said.
“I know, Michael, I know.” O’Halloran looked up at him. “Is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all?”
“Will you hear my confession, Monsignor f
“Of course.”
Father da Costa moved round to the side of the desk and knelt down.
When Fallon went into the Church, Anna was playing the organ. It was obviously a practice session. Hymns in the main – nothing complicated. He sat in the front pew listening and after a while she stopped playing abruptly.
He walked up the steps between the choir stalls. “The curse of the church organist’s life, hymns,” he said.
She swung round to face him. “You’re early. Uncle Michael said one o’clock.”
“I’d nothing else to do.”
She stood up. “Would you like to play?”
“Not at the moment.”
“All right,” she said. “Then you can take me for a walk. I could do with some air.”