The priest waddled nonchalantly across the unkempt yard. His eyes ogled the dilapidated church. When DuPont saw him, he stepped out of the cruiser and rested his hands on top of the opened door. He watched the priest. The West Carroll sheriff had presumed that this man of God noticed his squad car roll up. He had presumed wrong. The priest seemed oblivious. He was mindlessly gawking off into nothing with his thumb up his ass. The sheriff loudly cleared his throat.
“Oh, forgive me! I didn’t see you there!” the priest lied. “What can I do for you, officer?”
DuPont removed his Stetson and extended his hand. “I reckon I should introduce myself. I’m Sheriff DuPont.
“Pleased to meet you.”
“Ya know, I’m ashamed to admit this, but I didn’t know we had a Greek Orthodox Church until someone pointed it out to me the other day.”
“That’s quite alright, sheriff. The diocese just sent me out here. This church hasn’t been used in years, so I’m just wandering around trying to figure out what bullshit needs to be done to fix the place up.”
“I see,” said the sheriff. “Well I won’t keep you long. But there was an incident last night involving an explosion. It occurred about half a mile away from here. Off Kurtzy Road. Did you happen to see anything? Hear anything?”
“No sir. Don’t believe so.”
“Are you certain? The incident occurred about that-a-way,” the sheriff pointed towards the northwest. “It would have been a very loud explosion. You certainly would have heard it from this distance.”
“No sir, didn’t hear nuthin. What time did this happen?”
“Couldn’t say at this point. Probably before midnight.”
The priest squinted his eyes and stroked his long, grey beard. “Hmm. Well I went to bed quite early last night. And I’m a pretty sound sleeper.”
“What time did you lay down?”
“Oh I couldn’t say. Round eight.”
The sheriff nodded. “I see.” Then he placed the Stetson back on his head. “Well if you hear anything, please let my office know.”
“Yes sir. I will.”
DuPont sauntered back to his cruiser and the priest resumed gawking at the church. But as the sheriff opened the door, he spoke up once more. “One other thing, padre.”
This Priest bit his tongue.
“We don’t get too many new faces around here,” the sheriff said. “But you’re always welcome to stop by the sheriff’s office. We like to work closely with the faith leaders in our community. And besides, we need a new chaplain. I encourage you to apply.”
The priest smiled and waved. “I may do that, sheriff!”
DuPont returned the wave and planted himself in the driver’s seat. The priest turned around and walked back toward the church. But before the sheriff started the engine, he called out again. “Also, father!”
The Priest concealed his annoyance.
“There’s a gentleman we’re on the look out for,” DuPont shouted. “A black fella, about five foot eight. His name is Oren Waits. He’s not in any trouble, at least not with us, but if you see him, tell him I want to talk to him.”
TO BE CONTINUED…
The Internet Ruined Everything 