Father Frank led us out to the street and around to the side of the building. There, on the rough stone wall, it said, in large letters, "Jesus sucks!"
My employer shook her head. "I often investigate crimes other than murder, but vandalism, though very regrettable, is–"
"–beneath you?"
She smiled. "I would have said that it wasn't the best use of my time."
"Well, I'm not asking you to investigate this. I know who did it. Please wait here."
As he went back inside, Jan muttered, "Oh, no," and I knew we were thinking the same thing.
Father Frank came back out a moment later with Ron. He was holding her upper arm in his huge hand, half pulling her and half lifting her. She was obviously furious, tight-lipped and fierce. This was not going to be like the college case, with her running into my arms.
"This girl claims–" he began.
"Let go of her arm," I said.
"Please, I need to explain–"
"Let go of her arm first," I said, stepping toward him. I noticed that a couple of people had stopped to watch this.
I know it may seem that I was over-reacting, and part of it was certainly annoyance at how he was treating Ron. There was another aspect to it, however, which was that I knew Ron well enough to know that if Father Frank yanked on her arm one more time, she would probably haul off and punch him, priest or no. And, given how tall he was, and how short Ron was, I really wanted to try to prevent that blow from being delivered.
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