But could something very very bad cast out a demon? I mean, what could be worse than a demon? Perhaps Moloch? Or could a demon cast itself out for some reason?
I tried to comfort myself with the thought that at least I had some good questions now, but I didn’t feel terribly comforted, and my thoughts were interrupted when the door opened and the Right Reverend Gilles breezed in, beaming and muttering, “Well, well.”
The reverend was about fifty and seemed well fed, so I suppose the tithing business was working. He came right to us and gave Rita a hug and a peck on the cheek, before turning to offer me a hearty masculine handshake.
“Well,” he said, smiling cautiously at me. “So you’re Dexter.”
“I suppose I am,” I said. “I just couldn’t help it.”
He nodded, almost as if I had made sense. “Sit down, please, relax,” he said, and he moved around behind the desk and sat in a large swivel chair.
I took him at his word and leaned back in the red leather chair opposite his desk, but Rita perched nervously on the edge of her identical seat.
“Rita,” he said, and he smiled again. “Well, well. So you’re ready to try again, are you?”
“Yes, I—that’s just—I mean, I think so,” Rita said, blushing furiously. “I mean, yes.” She looked at me with a bright red smile and said, “Yes, I’m ready.”
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“Good, good,” he said, and he switched his expression of fond concern over to me. “And you, Dexter. I would really like to know a little bit about you.”
“Well, to begin with, I’m a murder suspect,” I said modestly.
“Dexter,” Rita said, and impossibly turned even redder.
“The police think you killed somebody?” Reverend Gilles asked.
“Oh, they don’t all think that,” I said. “Just my sister.”
“Dexter works in forensics,” Rita blurted out. “His sister is a detective. He just—he was only kidding about the other part.”
Once again he nodded at me. “A sense of humor is a big help in any relationship,” he said.
He paused for a moment, looked very thoughtful and even more sincere, and then said, “How do you feel about Rita’s children?”
“Oh, Cody and Astor adore Dexter,” Rita said, and she looked very happy that we were no longer talking about my status as a wanted man.
“But how does Dexter feel about them?” he insisted gently.
“I like them,” I said.
Reverend Gilles nodded and said, “Good. Very good. Sometimes children can be a burden. Especially when they’re not yours.”
“Cody and Astor are very good at being a burden,” I said. “But I don’t really mind.”
“They’re going to need a lot of mentoring,” he said, “after all they went through.”
“Oh, I mentor them,” I said, although I thought it was probably a good idea not to be too specific, so I just added, “They’re very eager to be mentored.”
“All right,” he said. “So we’ll see those kids here at Sunday school, right?” It seemed to me to be a bald-faced attempt to black-mail us into providing future recruits to fill his collection basket, but Rita nodded eagerly, so I went along with it. Besides, I was reasonably sure that whatever anyone might say, Cody and Astor would find their spiritual comfort somewhere else.
“Now, the two of you,” he said, leaning back in his chair and rubbing the back of one hand with the palm of the other. “A rela-
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