GLENDA DIDN’T OPEN the door when we rang the bell at the rectory. Instead, a young redheaded priest answered.
“Yes, can I help you?”
I smiled. “You must be the new priest.”
“Yes, I was just assigned to Saint Clare’s. I wasn’t told I had any marriage counseling appointments.” He looked puzzled. “At least I don’t think so. Glenda,” he called back in the rectory, “am I supposed to do any marriage counseling today?”
“There’s nothing on the schedule. Maybe it’s a crisis,” Glenda called from inside the rectory.
“Ah,” the priest said. “Well I have time now if you’d like to—”
“I’m Father Tom Greer,” I said, extending my hand. “This is Detective Helen Parr.” Helen displayed her identification to the befuddled prelate.
“Oh!” His eyes widened. “Sorry! So sorry!” He grabbed my hand and smiled
