Sacred Sins

game?”
    “I've got to look at apartments. I've got to be out by the first of December.”

    “You should forget an apartment,” Ben said as he switched to his fresh drink. “Rent money's money down the tube. You ought to be thinking about buying your own place, investing your money.”
    “Buying?” Ed picked up a spoon and stirred his drink. “You mean a house?”
    “Sure. You've got to be crazy to toss money out the window every month on rent.”
    “Buy? You thinking of buying a house?”
    “On my salary?” Ben laughed and tipped the chair back the full inch he had.
    “Last I looked, I was bringing home the same as you.”
    “I tell you what you need to do, partner. You need to get married.” Ed said nothing, but drained half his drink. “I'm serious. You find a woman, make sure she has a good job—I mean, like a career, so she won't be thinking about dumping it after. It would help if you found one you didn't mind looking at for long periods of time. Then you combine your salaries, you buy a house, and you stop throwing away rent money.”
    “They're turning my apartment building into condos, so I have to get married?”
    “That's the system. Let's ask an unbiased party.” Ben leaned over to the woman beside him. “Excuse me, but do you believe with today's social and economic climate that two can live as cheaply as one? In fact, considering the buying power of a two-income family, that two can almost always live more cheaply than one?”
    The woman set down her spritzer and gave Ben a considering look. “Is this a pickup?”
    “No, this is a random poll. They're turning my partner's apartment into a condo.”
    “The dirty bastards did the same thing to me. Now it takes me twenty minutes on the Metro to get to work.”

    “You have a job?”
    “Sure. I manage Women's Better Dresses at Woodies.”
    “Manage?”
    “That's right.”
    “Here you go, Ed.” Ben leaned toward him. “Your future bride.”
    “Have another drink, Ben.”
    “You're blowing a perfect opportunity. Why don't we switch places so you can…” He trailed off as he spotted the man approaching their table. Instinctively he straightened in his chair. “Evening, Monsignor.”
    Ed turned and saw Logan just behind him, wearing a gray sweater and slacks. “Nice to see you again, Monsignor. Want to squeeze in?”
    “Yes, if I'm not interrupting.” Logan managed to draw a chair up to the corner of the table. “I called the station and they told me you'd be here. I hope you don't mind.”
    Ben ran a finger up and down the side of his glass. “What can we do for you, Monsignor?”
    “You can call me Tim.” Logan signaled to the waitress. “I think that would make us all more comfortable. Bring me a St. Pauli Girl, and bring another round for my associates.” Logan glanced over as the piano player went into one of Billy Joel's ballads. “I don't have to ask if you two have had a hard day. I've been in contact with Dr. Court, and I had a brief discussion with your captain a couple of hours ago. You're trying to pin down a Francis Moore.”
    “Trying's the word.” Ed pushed aside his empty plate so the waitress would clear it when she served the drinks.
    “I knew a Frank Moore. Used to teach in seminary down here. Old school. Unshakable faith. The kind of priest I imagine you're more accustomed to, Ben.”

    “Where is he?”
    “Oh, in God's light, I'm sure.” He picked up a handful of nuts. “He died a couple of years ago. Bless you, child,” Logan said when his beer was in front of him. “Now old Frank wasn't a raving fanatic, he simply wasn't flexible. Today we have a lot of young priests who question and search, who debate such horny—you should forgive the pun—issues as celibacy and a woman's right to give the sacraments. It was easier for Frank Moore, who saw things in black and white. A man of the cloth doesn't lust for wine, women, or silk underwear. Cheers.” He lifted his glass and drained what was left of the beer. “I'm telling you this because I thought I might tug on a few connections, talk to some people who would remember Frank and some of the students under him. I did some counseling at the seminary myself, but that was nearly ten years ago.”
    “We'll take what we can get.”
    “Good. Now that that's settled, I think I'll have another beer.” He caught the waitress's eye, then turned back to smile at Ben. “How many years of Catholic school?”
    Ben dug for his cigarettes.