Ecclesiastes 7:20
Tuesday 11th December: Trish shivered. Not because she was cold. The Hanlin's house was like an oven, the fire roaring in the grate kept the Springfield winter well and truly at bay. In the corner there was a Christmas tree, decked in so many tiny white lights that it dazzled.
Trish shivered because she was nervous. One of those a-goose-walked-over-my-grave type shivers. She was nervous because lawyer Fieldson fully intended to go for Hanlin's jugular and Hanlin didn't know and Hanlin had called her over to help her. She felt a mix of emotions in which shame vied with hope, fear with excitement. So she shivered.
But no one noticed. They were seated in the living room, Trish and Hanlin with Briar, Seb and Baxter. And they were talking about the bishop.
"What does your defense team expect to gain by questioning the bishop?"
Trish's sharp eyes focused on Hanlin. "Nothing much as far as I can see. I've told them not to do it. Not that is unless it's a last resort."
"And will they call on him?"
Trish gave one of those helpless little girl shrugs.
"So what can they possibly gain?"
Trish's mouth set in a grim smile. "Do I have to spell it out?"
Baxter reached out a reassuring arm. "No Trish, you don't." He looked squarely at Hanlin. "In theory, however unlikely it may seem, the bishop could well have had a motive to get Trish out of the way. A reason to implicate Trish."
"Ah, Sean you mean," muttered Mike Hanlin, looking anxiously at Trish.
Trish's pretty face contorted into a grimace. "Yes, my Sean. I hope that won't have to be thrashed over in open court." She stood up, pushing her chair away behind her. "Not that I wouldn't like to see that fucking faggot, Bishop bloody O'Malley, squirm."
Trish walked out of the room, embarrassed by her own outburst. Baxter got up to follow her. Which left Hanlin, Seb and Bryer.
The three men glanced at one another, exasperated.
"Doesn't make much sense though."
"How so?"
"If the Bish wanted Trish out of the way so he could mess about with Sean, why not kill her? Bob Young makes no sense as a victim."
Seb looked up then. "Maybe killing her was too obvious."
"Why?"
Seb hesitated so Hanlin provided the answer. "She was blackmailing him. If he'd killed her he'd be suspect number one."
Bryer was too astonished to speak. Hanlin continued. "Mind you, having a motive doesn't prove a thing. You don't have to be a murderer to have a motive, just like you don't have to be a virgin to go to the virgin islands. The number of people I've got good reason to kill is nobody's business."
Bryer laughed. Hanlin got to his feet to fix the drinks.
"How well do you know Sean Hartnett?" asked Seb, his eyes on Baxter, who'd just re-entered the room having left Trish in the kitchen where she was being ministered to by Hanlin's wife Jane.
"Well enough. We sometimes play a round or two of golf. He's good."
Seb sighed. "Golf. Not a game I'm much enamoured with."
Baxter laughed. "Golf is like the Catholic Church."
"How's that?"
"Full of rules that can't be obeyed and a firm belief that it will deteriorate if women are admitted to full membership."
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