Free On the Fifth Day by A. J. Hartley Page B

Bushmills. "I think he came to warn me off. I, sort of, fought back, and he lost his temper. I could have been killed, but I don't think he really intended . . ."
    "That's about the dumbest argument I've ever heard," said Jim.
    "So you think I should go to the police?"
    Jim faltered.
    "Well," he said. "I don't know. The police . . . "
    "You don't trust them?"
    "Cops are too fond of rule books," said the priest.
    "Isn't the Bible . . . ?"
    "No," said Jim, abruptly.
    "Anyway," Thomas said, "reporting it will achieve nothing beyond making me look like an idiot."
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    O n t h e F i f t h D a y
    "That's what you're afraid of?" said Jim, his good humor returning as quickly as it had gone. "Looking stupid?"
    "Well," said Thomas, "it is humiliating to have to talk about how . . ."
    "Right," said Jim dryly. "I can see that. If I had been thrown down a trench to be eaten by lions I know that what would really bother me was how embarrassing it all was. I mean, what does one wear for such an event . . . ?"
    "I'm not kidding, Jim," said Thomas. "The guy told me to leave things alone. If I'm going to keep poking into Ed's death, I need to be discreet about it. Sitting in a squad car and chatting to some well-meaning cop who can do absolutely nothing to help will achieve nothing, and may give whoever is watching me a reason to put me out of the picture for good. It's not worth the risk."
    "And I thought I was paranoid," said Jim.
    "When someone tries to make you into whatever lions have when they can't get zebra, you're allowed a little paranoia."
    "Point taken, Daniel," said Jim, managing a smile. In the lion's den.
    "Funny."
    "I thought so."
    "I keep coming back to what Ed was doing in Italy," said Thomas.
    "Research and a bit of downtime," said Jim. "But I got the impression he spent a lot of time away from the retreat house. They called here once asking if he had left early."
    The phone rang in the kitchen. Thomas checked his watch and raised his eyebrows. It was after ten. Jim, used to being called--and called out--at all hours, just sighed and lumbered into the other room. Thomas closed his eyes and settled back. He was ready for bed. It had been a long, strange day, like the one before it, and he didn't know what to do next. He won
    dered why he was still in the presbytery and if he was ready to go back to his empty house.
    Better be. You'll be spending a lot of time there for the next few months.
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    A. J. Hartley
    The prospect of no job, no income, nothing to do with his time depressed and wearied him still further. He turned and noticed that Jim had left the computer on, the screen showing the parish website. One of the thumbnail images of the com
    munity was the very picture of Thomas's wedding that cur
    rently lay on the floor of Ed's room. That Ed would have used that picture, particularly after they lost touch, surprised him, and he stared at it, wondering what had been going on in his brother's life before he died.
    "It's for you."
    Jim was standing in the doorway holding the portable phone.
    "Here," said Jim. "I'll see if I can turn up that contact ad
    dress in Italy."
    Thomas took the phone from him frowning.
    "This is Thomas Knight," he said.
    "Hello, Tom."
    It was probably only a couple of seconds, but he felt that he had been standing there for at least a minute in stunned silence.
    "Tom, you there?"
    No one else called him that. No one ever had.
    "Kumi?"
    He didn't need to ask, hadn't really meant to. It had just come out, hoarse, distant, like the echoes of the past he had heard in the sacristy. The hairs on his arms were bristling and his heart had started to race.
    "Hi, Tom."
    "Hi. It's been a while."
    "Five years, yes."
    She said it without resentment, perhaps a little sadly. It was he, after all, who had refused to talk to her anymore.
    "I called you at home, but I guess you still don't check your messages, so I thought I'd try to reach you here."
    "Right," he said. He just couldn't find words. Jim had just walked