Page 38 of Love Bomb

“I’m delighted you came this morning,” Theresa MacGregor gushed over him after the service had ended. “I can’t remember the last time you were in church on a Sunday.”

Bain scanned the room over her head, keeping an eye out for the priest. The last thing he wanted to do was let him get away without having talked to him.

“Don’t get too excited, Ma,” Bain told his mother. “I’m only here because I have some business with Father McMurtry.”

“Business?” She frowned. “What kind of business would you have with the priest?” Then her eyes went wide and her face broke out into a smile that almost blinded him. “Praise the Lord! It’s finally happened,” she yelled. “You’re getting married!”

“What? No!” Bain raised his voice for everyone who’d turned in their direction. “I’m not getting married,” he said firmly.

He took his mother by the elbow and marched her to the side of the room, away from the people who were blatantly listening in.

His mother was clearly disappointed. “Then why are you here? Oh, wait, is this The Calling?” She said the words in a hushed tone, full of reverence. “Has God called you into the priesthood? I have to say, I’ve been praying that one of my boys would enter the church. I just never thought it would be you.”

Bain wasn’t sure whether to be insulted or relieved at that. “Ma, your brain is a bag of hamsters. Focus for a second. I’m no’ here to get married or to become a priest. I just want to get Father McMurtry’s advice on something. That’s it. No big deal. Okay?”

She sighed. “I have to say, Bain, that’s all a little disappointing. You’re not getting any younger, you know. It’s time you decided what you’re doing with your life. And if you don’t want to settle down and get married, then joining the priesthood is a very good option. You shouldn’t just dismiss it out of hand.”

He stared at her. “That’s it? Those are my only options? Marriage or ministry?”

“You need a stabilizing influence in your life,” she said sternly. “You’re in your thirties and you’re still sowing your wild oats.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Son, your oats are aging out of the process. You need to find a nice girl before they’re geriatric.”

“I’m only thirty-one and there’s nothing wrong with my oats.” He spotted the priest in the far corner of the church. He was making his way toward the door. Bain had to move fast, or he’d escape before Bain had a chance to talk to him. “I need to go. I have a few questions for Father McMurtry about Rona. Talk to you later, Ma.”

He knew he’d shared too much when her hand clasped around his arm. She had a vice-like grip.

“Rona?” she said. “Why are you talking to the Father about Rona? She’s no’ sick, is she?” She sucked in a breath and whispered. “Has she come back to Invertary to die?”

Bain looked heavenward. Dear God, he prayed, she’s your problem. Please deal with her. Then he looked back down at his ma.

“Rona’s not dying,” he said with long suffering.

He spotted the priest heading for the exit, no doubt in a hurry to get to the pub. Father McMurtry was addicted to the roast dinner Dougal put on for Sunday lunch. “I have to go, he’s escaping. Talk to you later, Ma.”

He kissed her cheek and made a run for it.

He caught up with Father McMurtry outside the Gents’ toilets. “I need to talk to you,” he said.

“Aye, I spotted you in Mass,” the priest said. “For a minute I thought the end times had started.” He inched toward the front door. “I’m sorry, Bain, but I have an appointment. We’ll have to catch up later.”

“I need to talk to you now, Father.” Bain blocked his escape. “Don’t worry, Dougal will keep your lunch for you. It won’t get cold.”

“Fine,” Father McMurtry huffed, glancing around before his eyes settled on the door to the toilet. “Come into my office,” he said, shoving Bain into the Gents.

The place was empty, which wasn’t a surprise seeing as most of the morning attendees had been women. Still, Bain checked the three stalls, just to make sure he wouldn’t be overheard.

“Okay.” Father McMurtry crossed his arms as he stood in front of the exit. “What’s the problem?”

The priest was in his early sixties and had an air of having heard it all before. It was clear from his expression that he wasn’t expecting anything new from Bain.

“Rona Dalgliesh,” Bain got right to it. “There’s something weird going on with her and it’s affecting me. At first I thought she’d drugged me, then I wondered if it was something more sinister. I need to know if witchcraft—spells and such—is a real thing. Is it?”

Father McMurtry’s expression didn’t change. “How much did you drink last night?” he said evenly.

Bain threw up his hands before pacing the small room. “Nothing,” he said. “Wait, no, I had a couple of lite beers in the middle of the night while watching Rona on TV. There was nowhere near enough alcohol in them to impair my judgement. I swear, I’m stone cold sober.”

The priest cocked an eyebrow. “And yet, you were watching Rona on TV, you say?”

“I know how it sounds,” Bain said, still pacing. “But we were watching the security cameras at my lab. She was trying to break in. And making a hash of it too.”