"Were you?"

  Beale tilted his head. "To some extent, I suppose I was. But you must understand, our church's worship is governed by the Book of Common Prayer, and our policy by the Episcopal Constitution and Canons. They say the rector runs the show, plain and simple. I tried to give Paul as much autonomy as possible, but when there were liturgical issues of importance involved, such as when choosing the proper hymn to accompany and amplify the readings, I had to intervene. That was, bottom line, my job."

  Christina nodded. "Was there anything else, Father Beale, that contributed to your problems at the church?"

  "Yes." His head lowered, and for the first time, there was a sense of regret, a perforation of his resilient, intellectual stance. "I… have a temper. A bad one. I'm aware of it, and I have sought counseling for it." He shook his head. "But these are excuses. Far too often I allowed my ardor to be expressed in anger. Yelling, shouting, even threatening. Unforgivable in any human being, but especially in a parish priest."

  "How many times did these temper outbursts occur?"

  "Too many to count. Toward the end, barely a vestry meeting went by without some expression of hostility by me, often returned by others. It was a bad situation all around." His hands, resting on the railing, tightened into fists. "And yet, I can't express to you how intensely… frustrating this was for me. I felt I was doing what was right for the church and for God. I was answering a call, a bishopric appointment. I had thought and considered and weighed every decision. And despite all that, to be met with opposition at almost every point, no matter how trivial, for no better reason than that you've had the audacity to do things differently than the last priest did-" His hands began to tremble. "My frustration and disappointment was uncommonly… palpable. I simply can't describe it in a way that gives any indication how strongly and passionately I felt."

  And Ben didn't particularly want to hear about how passionately he felt, either. Looking at his hands and face, Ben worried that they might witness a temper tantrum right on the stand, which would sink their case once and for all. Fortunately, Christina changed the subject.

  "Father Beale," Christina said, slowly and deliberately, "much has been said by the prosecution witnesses about the Liberated Christians group. Including your somewhat unusual theories regarding sexual activity by consenting adults. I know this may be somewhat uncomfortable for you, but would you please explain this to the jury?"

  "Of course," he said. "I don't mind at all." And indeed, to look at him, he didn't seem to. His body loosened, his hands fell, his face relaxed. "Liberated Christians is, quite simply, a group of adult couples who are trying to move beyond-to liberate themselves from-the oppressive and negative images of human sexuality that are promulgated by our society, and especially by religious groups, even though, for the most part, they have no basis in the Bible whatsoever."

  And they were off. Ben knew Christina wasn't looking forward to this frank discussion of aberrant sexual practices before a jury of middle- and lower-class Oklahomans, many of them members of one Bible-thumping church or another. But in preparation, she and Ben had both eventually realized that it would be better if she handled this all-important direct examination. Coming from Ben, there was a chance it might come off too good-ol'-boy sounding, like locker-room talk. Two guys swapping stories about all the hot chicks they bagged down at the Episcopal Church.

  With Christina in charge, there was no chance of that happening. With Christina asking the questions, Father Beale would be forced to be delicate. There was also a chance her presence might soften the juror response to the subject, sort of on the theory that if she's not repulsed…

  "Is this a philosophy you invented yourself, Father?"

  "Oh, heavens no. There are many such groups, all across the country. The world, in fact. Lifestyle couples-that's the preferred term at present. Wife-swapping, obviously, is a sexist phrase, and implies some unspoken impropriety. Swingers suggests a casual decadence that ignores the strong philosophical underpinnings. In fact, there are over three hundred formally affiliated clubs for lifestyle couples in at least twenty different countries. Millions of couples are active participants. They have their own travel industry, arranging vacations and seminars catering to their special interests. There are hundreds of magazines published on the subject, and I couldn't even guess how many Web sites. I know of eleven major conventions held for lifestyle couples every year in major U.S. cities, including the largest, the three-day Lifestyles convention in San Diego that draws over thirty-five hundred people a year. Oh, no-this clearly did not start with me."

  "What kind of people are these… lifestyle couples?"

  "In the main, they are no different from you or me. They do tend to be well-educated-over two-thirds have college degrees. They tend to be somewhat affluent. But beyond that, they cover all walks of life. There are even some Republicans."

  Nice try, but there was nary a titter in the jury box. As Ben had muttered on more than one previous occasion-God save me from witnesses who want to be comedians.

  "Is this a relatively recent phenomenon?"

  "Not remotely. After all, the Bible tells us that erotic rites were common in Canaan when God made His covenant with Abraham-the great Hebrew leader chosen by God, who would later prostitute his wife Sarah and have an adulterous fling with Hagar. The fertility goddess Asherah welcomed orgies in her temples; it was not until she was destroyed by the Hebrews that a new morality was established. For the early Hebrews, you must understand, reproduction was survival; hence, they disfavored or outlawed any form of nonreproductive sexual activity-masturbation, homosexuality, abortion, sex during menstruation. Sex outside marriage was similarly outlawed. This restrictive morality, formulated by primitives over four thousand years ago, would come to dominate the lives of the world's more than 2.3 billion Christians, Muslims, and Jews.

  "Still and all, that isn't the whole world. According to a recent anthropological survey, even well into the twentieth century, 'extramateship liaison' was an approved custom in thirty-nine percent of all world cultures. Think of that-thirty-nine percent! And though it's kept a low profile, it's becoming increasingly common in this country, too. Through these lifestyle organizations, millions of married Americans are able to express their erotic fantasies, and in the process, strengthen their marriages."

  Erotic fantasies. Somehow, Ben was willing to wager, the entire time she sweated through law school, Christina never envisioned that she would be standing in a courtroom talking about erotic fantasies. "I'm sure many people would imagine that these unusual practices would have just the opposite effect on a marriage. Would you please explain that last statement, Father?"

  "Certainly. Lifestyle couples are firm believers in family values." He'd been coached not to look at the judge as he said it; that would just be too obvious. "We believe we live in a manner that melds responsible family values-like matrimony, children, and emotional monogamy-with the erotic cultivation of marriage through the practice of rites we find fun and natural. After all, the most important thing for a family is the marriage; how can anything that strengthens the marriage be bad?"

  "I would imagine there are some people who would disagree with what you've said. Who would find these practices disturbing-or even sinful."

  "And you would be right." Beale straightened, adopting an almost professorial pose. "Let's face it-the world is still plagued with morality squads, people who spend their lives running around passing judgment on the activities of others. But every psychological study on the subject has shown that lifestyle couples are quite normal, not at all deviant. Indeed, some have suggested that sexual monogamy may be the more deviant, more unnatural lifestyle."

  Enough already. He'd either made his point or he never would. Time to move on to the nitty-gritty. "Father Beale, whether we agree or not, I think we understand your viewpoint now. What people may not yet understand yet, though, is-What does this have to do with a church?"

  Beale nodded thoughtfully. "First and foremost, strengthening and preserving marriages is very much the business of a church. The problem is-people have twisted around what Christianity was about in the first place. The teachings of Christ are about love, about kindness to those around you. Not about sex. We have no reason to believe Jesus was a starched shirt. According to the gospels, Jesus lived with and was even supported by prostitutes. He publicly defended an adulteress. He even dined with tax collectors, for Pete's sake."

  This time, to Ben's surprise, there actually was some laughter in the jury box. But did that mean they were with him, that they were buying any of this? Ben couldn't tell.

  "Whatever else Jesus may have been, he was not a prude. He didn't pass judgment on other people, not based upon their sexual practices or anything else. And yet, to listen to some preachers today, you'd think that the word 'morals' refers to nothing but sex. It has come to absolutely dominate so-called morality. Why? Why is sexual denial always perceived as superior to sexual indulgence? Why is organized religion so determined to control our sex lives? Why do we feel the need to disenfranchise homosexuals and masturbaters and… and swingers? Jesus didn't prioritize these items. Why do they obsess us so?"

  He was well spoken-Ben had to give him that. Whether the jury was buying it, whether in the long run it would even matter, he couldn't know.

  "Still and all, Father," Christina said, "we know that some people in your church did not accept your arguments. They were… disturbed by all this."

  "Yes. To my disappointment, that was true. Especially toward the end." His head bowed; he seemed sincerely regretful. "Of course, any time you introduce a radically different idea, you must expect objections. But there was more to it than that. Some people, whether due to their upbringing, lack of education, bad religious instruction, whatever, believe that if we are freed from society's oppressive sexual constraints and moral censure and are allowed to indulge ourselves naturally, we will become animals, slaves to our basest desires, incapable of ethical behavior. Others, I suspect, believe that if women were freed from the sexual stereotypes that restrict them, it would liberate them from the oppression by men that is still all too real an element of our society."

  "Susan Marino was one of those people, wasn't she?"

  "Yes." Tiny lines crept across his forehead. "I knew she was disturbed, that she was experiencing the guilt that male-dominated society told her she should… but I didn't realize how profoundly she felt it, how much it traumatized her. And I hold myself responsible for that. I feel the same way about Carol Mason. It's clear to me now that she simply can't live with what she has done, can't reconcile herself to it and, at least subconsciously, sees eliminating me as the only means of eradicating her guilt." He paused. "I can only wonder how many others at the church feel the same way."

  "And Kate McGuire?"

  "Much the same, I think. I didn't know it until the day of the wedding. The day she died. As others have reported, she met me in the corridor and told me how she felt. How upset she was. 'It's evil,' that's what she said. What we were doing was evil."

  "Was that all she said?"

  "No. She threatened to report what we were doing to the bishop."

  "Would that be bad?"

  Beale almost smiled. "Bishop Goodwin is a progressive man, and the Episcopal Convention is a progressive church. But not that progressive."

  "So what did you do?"

  "I'm afraid I lost my temper. I shouted and yelled and… threatened."

  "What did you say?"

  "To be honest, I don't remember. That often happens during these extreme flashes of temper. After they've subsided, I can't even recall what occurred. But I have no reason to think that the accounts we've heard of what I said are inaccurate."

  "Did you plan to see her again?"

  "I did. I remember that clearly. I knew we couldn't resolve this in the few minutes remaining before the wedding began, so I asked her to meet me afterward in my office."

  "And did she?"

  "I assume so. All I know is when I got there-she was dead."

  "Who else knew she was meeting you in your office?"

  "A lot of people, apparently. I didn't realize it at the time, but a good many overheard our disagreement."

  "What did you do when you discovered the body?"

  "At first-nothing. I was stunned. Immobile. I mean, there she was, sprawled across my desk, blood covering the side of her head. I didn't know what to do. And then, all of a sudden, it was as if an emotional dam inside me burst. I raced forward and ran to her side. I lifted her up and pressed her close to me. That's when I got her blood all over myself. It's probably when the hair got in the wound, too. I wanted her to know that she was loved, that I loved her. But of course, it was too late."

  Christina nodded, pausing for a moment to allow him to collect himself. "Then what did you do?"

  "I put her down gently, administered the last rites, and started to leave the office. Then I noticed that my hands and clothes were soaked with blood. I walked to the bathroom to wash myself."

  "Why didn't you call the police?"

  "Well, I should've, of course, but I just wasn't thinking clearly. The shock of seeing her like that, in my office-" He shook his head, rubbed his hand over his beard. "Unless you've had something like that happen to you, you can't conceive of what it does to your brain. Eventually I realized I should phone the authorities, but by that time, her body had been discovered by others. Still, I tried to make up for it. I cooperated with the police in every possible way. I made no attempt to flee, even though I knew perfectly well I would be a suspect."

  He stopped for a long moment. "You have to understand-I'm a priest. A horrible tragedy befell our church. I naturally wanted to help in any way possible. I did not believe I had done anything improper, and I wanted to do the right thing. For Kate, if for no other reason."

  "Is that why you remained with the church-even after you were arrested?"

  "Jesus was arrested, too, but he didn't give up his ministry. Not that I'm Jesus, by any means. But in our denomination, we believe that when you're called to a church, you're not just called by the parishioners, or the bishop-you're called by God. And if I've been called by God, if God wants me to be there-how can I quit? Whatever the circumstances."

  Christina turned a page in her outline. "I have only a few more questions, Father, and then we'll be finished. They're not pleasant questions. But they have to be asked. Have you had sexual relations with Susan Marino?"

  His lips pursed slightly. "Yes."

  "And Kate McGuire?"

  "On many occasions. We were favorite partners. We always enjoyed one another's company. Or so I thought."

  "Were those the only two parishioners with whom you've… been?"

  "No. Not even close. But I do resent the suggestion that this was all some depraved scheme employed by a dirty old man. I believed in the Liberated Christians group. What I was saying, what we were doing. And it worked. I saw the benefits right before my eyes. I saw people freed from sexual chains that had bound them all their lives. Experiencing sexual pleasure for the first time. I saw marriages healed and strengthened. It wasn't ugly or dirty. While it worked, it was beautiful."

  "And what did your wife think of all this?" Not that it was relevant. But if the jury believed he'd been playing around behind her back, they'd be much more likely to hang him. And if they thought she was behind him… well, that was something, anyway.

  "My wife, Andrea, has always been supportive of my ministry, and this was no exception. Admittedly, she was hesitant at first, and even now often prefers to watch rather than to participate. But she's behind me one hundred percent."

  Both figuratively and literally, because she was back in her seat on the first row of the gallery. She was, in reality, not at all happy about it. Regardless of what she believed, being present while her husband publicly discussed his relationships with other women couldn't be fun. But Ben thought her presence was critical. She lent credibility to everything Father Beale said. If she didn't object to what he was doing, what right had anyone else?

  "Do you have any regrets?"

  Father Beale paused, thinking. "I still believe what I advocate. I think what we did was right, and I think most people would be better off if they followed our lead. But I wonder if… I wonder if maybe I pushed too hard. Particularly some of the women. Perhaps it was too much too fast. Of course, no one was forced against their will. But I may have underestimated the power and influence of a priest. I may have induced some of them to proceed… before they were ready."

  He turned, craning his head toward the heavens. "I don't know. I just don't know. But if anyone was hurt-and it seems they were-I regret that most sincerely."

  "Father Beale," Christina said finally, "did you kill Kate McGuire?"

  "No." He turned, peering straight at the jury as he spoke. "I did not. Not her, and not anyone else. I cared deeply for Kate." He hesitated, then added, just under his breath. "I still do."

  "Thank you, Father. No more questions."

  Chapter

  38

  Canelli had been strangely quiet throughout the direct of Father Beale; Ben almost wondered if he was beginning to believe him. But that whim soon passed. Once cross started, it was no holds barred. Undoubtedly, Canelli thought the verdict would hinge on what happened during this cross-because Ben thought so, too.

  "First of all, Mr. Beale," Canelli said as he strode across the courtroom, "I'd like to thank you for that fascinating excursion into the wonderful world of situational ethics."

  Father Beale sat like a rock, staring back at Canelli, not saying a word.

  Good boy, Ben thought. Just keep it up. As many times as Ben had prepped witnesses for trial, he was all too aware that most of them forgot everything he had told them when they actually took the stand. Including the most important rule of all: Don't take the bait. If he doesn't ask a question, keep your mouth closed.

 

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