Grief Street

small bathroom. There were piles of books everywhere in neat stacks, hundreds of books in no particular order.
    . “All right now, boy,” said the priest, bringing the coffee, sinking into his chair. I liked him calling me boy. He filled the mugs, then sat back, Bible in hand. “Father Decian tells me you’re here on the matter of ghastly crimes'. And by the "'ay, did you mention any of the lurid business to Charlie?”
    “No. But he might have read about it in the New York papers.”
    “Charlie’s old enough to trust newspapers to get it wrong. It adds years to his life to keep him guessing.”
    “Father, there’s been a rabbi killed, then seven parishioners from Holy Cross...” This came out of me in a rush. “And now Sister Roberta Lowther, raped and left bleeding to death. Do you remember Sister?”
    The priest’s head dropped, as if someone had come up behind him and clouted his neck. “Yes, I remember the dear woman. Please—no further details, boy. They’ll only clutter up the understanding of evil, which is the principal thing in need of discussion during this limited time.”
    His face whitened. He clutched his Bible to his chest with one hand and sipped coffee from his mug with the other.
    “Now, why is it I’ve taken up this Bible?” he asked himself. No response was expected of me. “It makes my hair stand on end when I think of all the time and effort we priests have expended on the elucidation of Holy Scripture. And after all these centuries of priests, what do you think we’ve gained from our Bible exertions, boy?”
    “It’s not for me to say.”
    “Then I’ll say what I’ve come to think. Like all other books, the Bible was written by men. These men were different from you and me, of course; they lived in simpler times, and were more ignorant than even the two of us. And therefore, the book they wrote is quite as ordinary as any other-— containing much that’s true and much that’s false, much that’s good and much that’s bad...” Father Morrison stopped, noticed that I had not put cream in my own coffee-“You’re taking your coffee black?”
    “I am, yes.”
    “Only a Prod could drink it that way.”
    I stirred in cream. Father Morrison set aside his Bible. “I’m trusting that my little discourse on the Bible remains a confidence between us, boy.” I nodded. Creepy Morrison said, “Good, for everything I’ve said’s against my union rules. My remarks run counter to what priests are hired to tell the civilians. But here now—you didn’t come all this way after an ordinary priest.”
    “No.”
    “So tell me what an aging hermit can do for you. I suppose Father Declan’s told you the slander of us Jesuits knowing the sins of the pope?”
    “He mentioned that.”
    “Well, it’s true.”
    “Then help me understand evil, Father... I know that sounds crazy...” I was again talking in a rush. I took a beat. “I’m an ordinary cop, and chasing more than ordinary sin this time. It’s something evil I’m after. Maybe the devil himself.”
    “If you could shoot old Nick, you would—yes, boy?”
    “That’s complicated.”
    “So we’re led to believe. Again, the union rules. But I’ll tell you true: evil is among God’s lesser miracles. Evil has perfect logic, though, which is why we confuse it for being complex.”
    The priest took a pipe from the breast pocket of his tweed jacket. He filled it with tobacco and struck a match to it, then continued on the simplicities of evil.
    “First thing to understand is that if evil did not make its dwelling in man, it would be much more evil than it is. Evil, therefore, cannot be a willful force because it is tied to man. Follow?”
    “I’m doing my best.”
    “Because evil’s in man, a heavenly watch is kept on evil. God watches all his creations, great and small, good and wicked. Now then, there’s the next logical thing to understand. In man—who is, as you know, the image of God-— evil is naturally constricted. Evil’s under custody like, as in a prison. And why do you suppose this is?”
    “To prevent evil from being more evil than it is?”
    “Aye, see here—you’re no ordinary copper as you make out. Were evil allowed to roam the earth, alone and free, it Would have unlimited destructive power. But it’s sheltered, you see, by God’s own image.”
    “Which is how the watch is kept?”
    “Good boy.”
    “The rabbi who was killed—Marvin Paznik by name— told me something along these