Enough already. He’d either made his point or he never would. Time to move on to the nitty-gritty. “Father Beale, whether we agree or not, I think we understand your viewpoint now. What people may not yet understand yet, though, is-What does this have to do with a church?”

Beale nodded thoughtfully. “First and foremost, strengthening and preserving marriages is very much the business of a church. The problem is-people have twisted around what Christianity was about in the first place. The teachings of Christ are about love, about kindness to those around you. Not about sex. We have no reason to believe Jesus was a starched shirt. According to the gospels, Jesus lived with and was even supported by prostitutes. He publicly defended an adulteress. He even dined with tax collectors, for Pete’s sake.”

This time, to Ben’s surprise, there actually was some laughter in the jury box. But did that mean they were with him, that they were buying any of this? Ben couldn’t tell.

“Whatever else Jesus may have been, he was not a prude. He didn’t pass judgment on other people, not based upon their sexual practices or anything else. And yet, to listen to some preachers today, you’d think that the word ‘morals’ refers to nothing but sex. It has come to absolutely dominate so-called morality. Why? Why is sexual denial always perceived as superior to sexual indulgence? Why is organized religion so determined to control our sex lives? Why do we feel the need to disenfranchise homosexuals and masturbaters and… and swingers? Jesus didn’t prioritize these items. Why do they obsess us so?”

He was well spoken-Ben had to give him that. Whether the jury was buying it, whether in the long run it would even matter, he couldn’t know.

“Still and all, Father,” Christina said, “we know that some people in your church did not accept your arguments. They were… disturbed by all this.”

“Yes. To my disappointment, that was true. Especially toward the end.” His head bowed; he seemed sincerely regretful. “Of course, any time you introduce a radically different idea, you must expect objections. But there was more to it than that. Some people, whether due to their upbringing, lack of education, bad religious instruction, whatever, believe that if we are freed from society’s oppressive sexual constraints and moral censure and are allowed to indulge ourselves naturally, we will become animals, slaves to our basest desires, incapable of ethical behavior. Others, I suspect, believe that if women were freed from the sexual stereotypes that restrict them, it would liberate them from the oppression by men that is still all too real an element of our society.”

“Susan Marino was one of those people, wasn’t she?”

“Yes.” Tiny lines crept across his forehead. “I knew she was disturbed, that she was experiencing the guilt that male-dominated society told her she should… but I didn’t realize how profoundly she felt it, how much it traumatized her. And I hold myself responsible for that. I feel the same way about Carol Mason. It’s clear to me now that she simply can’t live with what she has done, can’t reconcile herself to it and, at least subconsciously, sees eliminating me as the only means of eradicating her guilt.” He paused. “I can only wonder how many others at the church feel the same way.”

“And Kate McGuire?”

“Much the same, I think. I didn’t know it until the day of the wedding. The day she died. As others have reported, she met me in the corridor and told me how she felt. How upset she was. ‘It’s evil,’ that’s what she said. What we were doing was evil.”

“Was that all she said?”

“No. She threatened to report what we were doing to the bishop.”

“Would that be bad?”

Beale almost smiled. “Bishop Goodwin is a progressive man, and the Episcopal Convention is a progressive church. But not that progressive.”

“So what did you do?”

“I’m afraid I lost my temper. I shouted and yelled and… threatened.”

“What did you say?”

“To be honest, I don’t remember. That often happens during these extreme flashes of temper. After they’ve subsided, I can’t even recall what occurred. But I have no reason to think that the accounts we’ve heard of what I said are inaccurate.”

“Did you plan to see her again?”

“I did. I remember that clearly. I knew we couldn’t resolve this in the few minutes remaining before the wedding began, so I asked her to meet me afterward in my office.”

“And did she?”

“I assume so. All I know is when I got there-she was dead.”

“Who else knew she was meeting you in your office?”

“A lot of people, apparently. I didn’t realize it at the time, but a good many overheard our disagreement.”

“What did you do when you discovered the body?”

“At first-nothing. I was stunned. Immobile. I mean, there she was, sprawled across my desk, blood covering the side of her head. I didn’t know what to do. And then, all of a sudden, it was as if an emotional dam inside me burst. I raced forward and ran to her side. I lifted her up and pressed her close to me. That’s when I got her blood all over myself. It’s probably when the hair got in the wound, too. I wanted her to know that she was loved, that I loved her. But of course, it was too late.”

Christina nodded, pausing for a moment to allow him to collect himself. “Then what did you do?”

“I put her down gently, administered the last rites, and started to leave the office. Then I noticed that my hands and clothes were soaked with blood. I walked to the bathroom to wash myself.”

“Why didn’t you call the police?”

“Well, I should’ve, of course, but I just wasn’t thinking clearly. The shock of seeing her like that, in my office-” He shook his head, rubbed his hand over his beard. “Unless you’ve had something like that happen to you, you can’t conceive of what it does to your brain. Eventually I realized I should phone the authorities, but by that time, her body had been discovered by others. Still, I tried to make up for it. I cooperated with the police in every possible way. I made no attempt to flee, even though I knew perfectly well I would be a suspect.”

He stopped for a long moment. “You have to understand-I’m a priest. A horrible tragedy befell our church. I naturally wanted to help in any way possible. I did not believe I had done anything improper, and I wanted to do the right thing. For Kate, if for no other reason.”

“Is that why you remained with the church-even after you were arrested?”

“Jesus was arrested, too, but he didn’t give up his ministry. Not that I’m Jesus, by any means. But in our denomination, we believe that when you’re called to a church, you’re not just called by the parishioners, or the bishop-you’re called by God. And if I’ve been called by God, if God wants me to be there-how can I quit? Whatever the circumstances.”

Christina turned a page in her outline. “I have only a few more questions, Father, and then we’ll be finished. They’re not pleasant questions. But they have to be asked. Have you had sexual relations with Susan Marino?”

His lips pursed slightly. “Yes.”

“And Kate McGuire?”

“On many occasions. We were favorite partners. We always enjoyed one another’s company. Or so I thought.”

“Were those the only two parishioners with whom you’ve… been?”

“No. Not even close. But I do resent the suggestion that this was all some depraved scheme employed by a dirty old man. I believed in the Liberated Christians group. What I was saying, what we were doing. And it worked. I saw the benefits right before my eyes. I saw people freed from sexual chains that had bound them all their lives. Experiencing sexual pleasure for the first time. I saw marriages healed and strengthened. It wasn’t ugly or dirty. While it worked, it was beautiful.”

“And what did your wife think of all this?” Not that it was relevant. But if the jury believed he’d been playing around behind her back, they’d be much more likely to hang him. And if they thought she was behind him… well, that was something, anyway.