It was a long day, but they managed to get the jury selected before five, which meant the trial could get under way first thing in the morning.

“Opening arguments at nine,” Judge Pitcock said, rapping his gavel. “Court is now in recess.”

The reporters flanked the exit, poised like rattlesnakes, which made Ben all the more content to hang about in the courtroom.

“Nice job,” Christina said.

“Are you being facetious? Canelli is much better at voir dire than I am.”

She shrugged. “Canelli is a people person. You’re a… a…”

“A non-people person?”

“You’re more reserved,” Christina settled on. “Which makes all the more impressive what you accomplished. I mean, you got a guy sitting in a room full of people to admit he still carried around negative religious baggage from his childhood-without embarrassing him or causing him and everyone else to clam up. How many lawyers could’ve managed that?”

“I was impressed, too,” Father Beale chimed in. “Although I was dismayed to see how much of that still exists. I thought we had all but rooted that out by working together, forming these interfaith and ecumenical committees. I liked to think all that backwoods Protestant-Catholic enmity was a thing of the past.” He shook his head. “I guess I’ve been a fool.”

Ben gripped him by the shoulder. “Well, Father, if that were a crime… I’d be doing life.”

The crime scene teams were still hard at work when Ben drove by the church about eight o’clock that night. Most of the hardest work had been done-the pictures were taken, the site had been combed for physical evidence, the body had been removed. But that was just the start of the process; Ben knew it would be days before the police pulled out entirely, and weeks before the church was able to return to any semblance of normalcy.

He was surprised, however, to see Mike’s shiny silver TransAm out front. He parked and strolled inside.

Mike was in his usual rumpled trench coat, even though it wasn’t remotely cold, barking orders and marching his underlings through their paces.

“Didn’t I tell you to get those bloodstains off the wall?” Mike bellowed. He was nose-to-nose with some poor unfortunate baby officer.

“Y-y-yes, sir. I did that, sir.”

“And how, may I ask? Did you lick it up?”

“N-n-no, sir. I used a rag.”

“A rag and what?”

Ben heart’s bled for the poor chump. He looked as if he were about to pass out. “Water, sir.”

“And where, may I ask, did you get this water?”

“I-I found a sink. In the sanctuary, sir.”

“That wasn’t a sink, you dunderhead.” Mike leaned into his face. “That was a baptismal font! You just scrubbed the walls with holy water!”

“I-I-I-oh, I’ll refill it-”

“I’ve been informed they have that water brought in all the way from the river Jordan in the Middle East.”

The young officer’s mouth formed a broad O.

“And you just used it to moisten your Comet!”

“I-I-I-don’t know what-”

“Get out of my sight, Sergeant. Finish your job!”

“Yes, sir. I will, sir.”

“And this time get the water out of the bathroom!”

The young man scurried away, obviously relieved to escape the senior homicide detective’s wrath.

Mike spotted Ben standing at the door. “Returning to the scene of the crime?”

“So to speak. Being a bit harsh, weren’t you?”

Mike shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets. “It’s good for them.”

“Oh, no doubt. Sort of like verbal shock therapy.” He grinned. “I thought you were supposed to mellow as you got older.”

“Seems to be having the opposite effect on me.”

“That’s because you spend too much time around murders.”

“No, that’s because I spend too much time around lawyers. So what brings you here? Didn’t your big case start today?”

“Yup. But I wanted to see what was going on here. See if you learned anything.”

“Like what?”

“Like maybe-who did it?”

Mike gave him a withering look. “Give me a break, Ben. I’m not on the jury.”

“Mike… Father Beale did not commit this murder. Or any of the others.”

“You’re in deep denial, Ben.”

“I’m serious. I have a strong feeling about this.”

“Do I need to catalog all the times your feelings have turned out to be dead wrong?”

“I’m not wrong this time. I know I’m not.”

Mike shook his head. “I think it’s best we change the subject. Before I have you arrested for aggravated stupidity.”

Ben took the hint. “Is this killing consistent with the previous two murders?”

Mike’s head tilted slightly. “There are a few minor differences, but I still-”

“What are they?”

“This is probably like feeding a piece of the sky to Chicken Little, but the MO is somewhat altered here. The previous two murders involved some kind of blunt instrument. But this time the killer used a knife.”

“Meaning it’s a different killer.”

“Or, more likely, that the killer is becoming more bold, more bloody. Needs a little gore to keep it exciting.”

“Have you found the knife?”

“Unfortunately, no. But we will.”

“Time of death?”

“Of course, the coroner hasn’t made any official pronouncements, but the inside scoop is that it could’ve been anywhere from five minutes to an hour before the body was found.”

“No way. I heard Susan Marino engage in a heated discussion with George Finley maybe half an hour or so before we discovered the body.”

“You saw her alive?”

“Well, I didn’t actually see her. But I heard her voice.”

“Who’s this George?”

“Another member of the vestry. One of the few remaining.” He glanced over Mike’s shoulder, toward the utility room where the body was found. It was roped off with yellow tape; several technicians were still buzzing around. “I assume the killer shut off the lights.”

“Well, you’d think so. But here’s the interesting thing.” He held up a thick palm-size device. “Know what this is?”

Ben squinted. “Isn’t that one of those gizmos people use to turn their lights on and off while they’re on vacation?”

“You win the Daily Double. Since St. B’s here has a rather old, if not antiquated breaker box, someone was able to plug this doohickey in and use it to shut off the lights-at a predetermined time.”

“So the killer didn’t have to be in the utility room when the lights went off?”

“You got it. The lady was probably already dead when everything went black. Which enlarges our pool of suspects from the handful of people on the premises when the body was discovered to, basically, everyone on earth.”

Ben’s lips tightened. “That’s just… dandy.”

“Yeah. Well, I’ve got work to do.”

“Mike, if you learn anything important-please call.”

“I doubt if Mr. Canelli would appreciate me helping out his sworn adversary.”

“But you will anyway, right?”

Mike sighed. “I suppose. But do me one favor, okay?”

“What’s that?”

“Stop inviting me to visit your church. This place is way too dangerous for me.” He pushed his fists into his pockets and headed back toward the utility room. “Half a league, half a league, half a league onward, All in the valley of Death…”