Twenty-Eight
“WAIT UNTIL ARCHBISHOP Knowland hears about this latest stunt of yours, Mrs. Parr!”
A very angry Father Xavier sits in the interview room, sitting stiffly in the chair, his blue eyes flashing with rage over his long white beard.
“Oh, I called him first thing this morning,” Helen says.
“And he approved of you hauling me from my home by a couple of jackbooted Gestapo and driving me here?”
“Officers Thompson and Hallstead do not wear jackboots, and as someone with an uncle who died on Omaha Beach fighting the Nazis, I am deeply offended by your characterizing them as Gestapo.” Helen folds her hands in front of her and puts on a pleasant smile. “Did they read you your rights?”
“Yes, yes,” he says with irritation.
“Did you understand your rights?”
“Of course I did! Am I und
