Page 20 of Go Now
They were about to knock on the door when Torres reappeared through it, a black shirt and priestly collar now replacing the colourful robes.His build was muscular, Kate noted, his hands cut and bruised.
‘Can I help you?’he asked, in a neutral tone.
They introduced themselves.‘We’d like to talk to you about Brandon Ashworth,’ Kate said.
‘The artist who was murdered,’ Torres said.‘What about him?’
A couple of the grandmothers had stayed behind after the service and were arranging the flowers around the altar and in various alcoves around the hall, whilst conducting an animated conversation in Spanish.They could have been a distraction. Kate saw them as a godsend.Because they gave her the excuse to ask: 'Could we go somewhere more private, Father?'
Torres nodded.‘Come with me.’
Interviews weren't just about asking questions.They were a chance to see the suspect or the witness on their home turf, to see how he lived, how he behaved when he was at ease, or ought to be.Torres led them through the door and into a small office with a desk, a laptop, and a shelf of weighty, ecclesiastical-looking books.An assortment of robes hung on a rail beneath the frosted window. The walls were covered in calendars, religious quotes in English and Spanish, and various flyers advertising events and gatherings.Torres dusted off a couple of chairs for them, before sitting at his desk. He looked tense, Kate thought.Gone was the spiritual drama she'd just witnessed during the Mass.The priest now seemed awkward and guarded.Then again, few people looked relaxed when the FBI arrived with questions.
‘You argued with Mr Ashworth during the June exhibition,’ Kate said.
‘His idea of art disgusts me,’ Torres said, sternly.‘Art should glorify creation.I believe that it should shine a light on the beauty of the created world and the talents of those whom God singles out to depict it.’
‘And if it doesn’t?’Kate asked.‘If someone puts that talent to a different use…’
‘You mentioned him drowning in a lake of fire,’ Marcus interjected.‘And being crushed by rocks.’
Torres raised an eyebrow, unnerved at least a little, she thought.
‘Number one,’ Torres said.‘I didn’t refer specifically to Ashworth or any other artist.Number two, I was quoting Cyprian of Caesarea, one of the early Church fathers. And he was clearly speaking allegorically.Nobody candrownin a lake of fire.And what is a “lake of fire” anyway?Lakes are made of water.’
‘Number three,’ Kate said.‘Someone bashed Ashworth’s brains to bits with a rock.That’s not an allegory.That’s what they did.’
Torres opened his mouth to say something, but then changed his mind.It was an inscrutable gesture, Kate thought.Impossible to tell what it meant.
'That's appalling,' he said, at length.'Why hasn't that been mentioned on the news?On the TV, they only said he was dead and that it's being treated as murder.'
‘We don’t want copycats,’ Kate said.‘And if we interview someone who knows more than we’ve released into the public domain… ‘
‘It could help you catch them,’ Torres completed the sentence.‘Well, I hope sincerely that you do.’
‘You don’t think Ashworth deserved it?’Marcus said.Torres stared at him.
‘Of course I don’t.I was… Iamvigorously opposed to his art.But I’m equally opposed to killing.Opposed to violence of all kinds.And I’m shocked that you’d think I had anything to do with it.’
‘I just watched a video clip in which your body language is quite aggressive,’ Marcus countered.You and Ashworth were eyeballing each other. You look like you’re on the verge of hitting him.And I understand blows were traded.’
Torres looked awkward.‘I’m not proud of that,’ he said.‘I lost my temper.I have prayed for forgiveness and understanding since then, many times.’
‘What happened to your hands?’Kate asked.
Torres glanced down.‘Nothing to do with the scuffle.I was changing a tire yesterday.’
‘I’ve changed quite a few tires,’ Kate said.‘I never ended up with injuries like that.’
‘Then perhaps you are better at changing tires than I am,’ he said, with a dazzling smile.Kate could imagine that smile working miracles.But not here.And not now.
‘Where were you between one and five on Tuesday morning?’Kate went on, keeping up the pressure.
‘I’m sure I would have been in the presbytery next door.The priest’s house.’
‘I’m always intrigued when people use that phrase, Father.Because it kind of implies they’renotsure.’
Torres blinked, looking irritated.‘It’s just a phrase.A turn of phrase.As you rightly point out.I was here.’
