“Maybe J.D. and Kirby will get him,” Virgil said.

Pony shook his head.

“You with us on this?” Virgil said. “If they don’t?”

“Yes,” Pony said.

Virgil grinned at him.

“You after his power?” Virgil said.

Pony didn’t grin, but he looked like he might have.

“Sí, jefe,” he said.

MARY BETH CAME INTO the sheriff’s office after lunchtime, mush-mouth drunk and weaving as she walked.

“Wanna report a man fuckin’ a child,” she mumbled.

Virgil stood and went around his desk and eased her onto a chair. Then he sat on the edge of his desk right in front of her.

“A man fucking a child,” Virgil said.

“Used to fuck me, now he fuckin’ her.”

Virgil nodded.

“You thinking about what happened to you and Laurel, ’fore we found you?”

“Naw,” Mary Beth said. “Brother Percival fucking us.”

“You let him?” Virgil said.

“I don’…”

Mary Beth slid suddenly off the chair. Quick as he was, Virgil got a hold of her as she went and broke her fall. He eased her the rest of the way down and she sat on the floor with her legs splayed.

“Everett,” Virgil said. “Whyn’t you go see if you can find Allie.”

I nodded and left.

I found her in The Church of the Brotherhood, practicing on the organ. To me it sounded like a cow in labor, but I was never musical.

“What’s wrong?” she said when she saw me.

“Nothing bad,” I said. “Mary Beth Ostermueller is drunk and falling down in Virgil’s office.”

Allie stood up.

“Oh, God,” she said.

As we walked down to the office, Allie said, “What is she doing there. What is she telling you?”

“She was telling us that Brother Percival was fucking Laurel,” I said. “ ’Fore she fell off the chair and Virgil caught her.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Allie said.

“Said he’d been doing it to both of them,” I said.

“Brother Percival is a man of God.”

“I’ve heard even they do it, sometimes,” I said.

“Not if they are holy men like Brother Percival,” Allie said.

“He ever show any interest in you?” I said.

“Of course he shows interest. He cares about my soul. He shows interest in everyone.”

“Care about any of your other parts?” I said.

“Everett!”

When we were at the office, I opened the door and ushered her in. Virgil was at his desk, his feet up, his white shirt gleaming from the laundry.

“Where’s Mary Beth?” Allie said.

“Sleeping in a cell,” Virgil said.

“What did she tell you?” Allie said.

“Not much,” Virgil said.

“Everett says she’s been accusing Brother Percival.”

“She said he was poking Laurel,” Virgil said.

“Everett says she was drunk.”

“Seemed so,” Virgil said.

“She’s drunk all the time,” Allie said.

“Don’t mean she’s lying,” Virgil said.

“Not on purpose,” Allie said. “I know that she had a bad time when the Indian took her. Laurel, too. And it made her crazy, and when she’s drunk she’s crazier. I been trying to help her, and help Laurel, and so has Brother Percival.”

“Girl talking yet?” Virgil said.

“No,” Allie said. “And Mary Beth’s crawled into her bottle and given up being a mother.”

“So who looks out for the daughter?” Virgil said.

“I do. I’ve become the closest thing she has to a mother.”

“And she ain’t, ah, indicated nothing to you about Brother Percival’s intentions.”

“No, of course not. You think I would stand by and let that happen? She’s like a daughter to me.”

Virgil nodded. I poured myself a cup of coffee.

“Well,” Virgil said. “Me and Everett are deputy sheriffs here. I guess we got to go talk with Brother Percy.”

“He doesn’t like to be called Percy,” Allie said.

Virgil nodded.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” he said. “You mind sticking here and looking after her if she wakes up?”

“I’ve done it before,” Allie said.

“Good,” Virgil said. “ ’Preciate it.”

“And you’re really going to talk with Brother Percival?” Allie said.

“Just doing my duty,” Virgil said.

“She’ll say anything,” Allie said.

“I know,” Virgil said.

“You can’t believe anything she says.”

“I know.”

“She didn’t tell you anything about me?” Allie said.

“Anything to tell?” Virgil said.

“Virgil, you shouldn’t ask me a thing like that,” Allie said. “Of course there isn’t anything. What do you think I am?”

“Just asking,” Virgil said.

“You know how drunks are,” Allie said. “They don’t remember things that happened. They remember things that didn’t happen. They make up stories. They’ll say anything.”

“Keep that in mind, too,” Virgil said.

He stood. I put down my coffee cup, and we went out into the street.

“Mary Beth tell you anything you haven’t mentioned?” I said to Virgil as we walked toward the church.

Virgil didn’t answer. When Virgil doesn’t answer, it isn’t because he didn’t hear the question.

I didn’t press it.

WE TALKED TO BROTHER PERCIVAL in the front room of his house in the compound in back of the church.

“Where’s my organist?” Brother Percival said, and smiled.

He was in his official church clothes: white robe, sandals, long hair.

“Allie’s looking out for a drunk down at the jail,” Virgil said. “Woman named Mary Beth Ostermueller.”

“Poor Mary Beth,” Percival said. “We’re all trying to help her, but…”

“She says you’re fucking her daughter,” Virgil said.

Percival looked like he might burst into prayer.

“Oh, dear Lord,” he said.

“Said you was fucking her, and now you’re fucking Laurel.”

“Must you speak so coarsely, Deputy?” Percival said.

“Just quoting Mary Beth, Reverend,” Virgil said.

“She was drunk.”

“She was.”

“The charge is, as you must know, entirely untrue,” Brother Percival said.

The front room of Brother Percival’s house wasn’t much: a table and chair, an uncomfortable-looking round-backed blue couch, a large Bible on a stand near the door. A big photograph of Brother Percival hung in an oval frame on the wall. In the picture he was wearing a dark suit with a vest and a white shirt with a dark tie. In the picture, his hair was short.

“I’m sure it is, Reverend,” Virgil said. “But me ’n Everett, here, bein’ law officers, we have to ask.”

“Of course you do,” Percival said. “I understand perfectly.”

“Got any idea why she might be thinking these things about you?” Virgil said.

“Aside from drunkenness?” Percival said.

“ ’Side from that,” Virgil said.

“Perhaps my attempts to share my religion with them, to help them, somehow became distorted in her degenerated mind. What happened to her and all. The poor woman clearly isn’t right.”

“Something’s wrong,” Virgil said. “Tell me a little ’bout your religion.”

“My religion is the presence of God in me.”

“How’s God feel about sex?” Virgil said.

“Do not blaspheme,” Percival said.

“Sorry,” Virgil said. “Tell me a little ’bout how you been trying to help these two ladies we brought you.”

“I counsel them every day,” Percival said.

“Meanin’ you take them someplace and talk to them,” Virgil said.

“Yes,” Percival said. “I talk with them here. Though it is, of course, a bit more than that.”

“Girl talk any?”

“Not yet,” Percival said. “Poor child.”

“Well, she probably don’t argue much,” Virgil said.

“No, she surely doesn’t,” Percival said. “I’m not sure she understands what I’m saying. I’m not sure she is at all in her right mind.”

“What are you saying?” I said.

“I explain to them that His eye is on the fall of a sparrow,” Percival said. “That He never sends you a burden too great for you to bear.”

“Ain’t found that to be the case myself, Reverend,” Virgil said. “But you probably know more than I do ’bout all that.”