ABOUT FORTY-FIVE MINUTES or so after the end of Mass, Helen pulls into the Rectory driveway. I glance at the time on my phone and shudder, thinking how fast she must have driven to get from Baltimore to here in less than 90 minutes. I don’t approach her since she and Dan obviously have their hands full. Up the street, I see Clark leaning up against his parked car.
Walking over to him, I say, “I thought you were gone.”
“I was,” he says, “but then I remembered I had left my reading glasses here so I came back. Needless to say, the situation caught my attention. I know enough to stay out of the way but I figured you might need some moral support.”
“Oh, yeah,” I agree. “Or at least someone to talk to while Helen and Dan work the case.”
“You’re not going to play Father Brown?” He says with
