151. Intercession

"I've spoken to Saint Anne," Lance announced a week after the fire. The two of us were sipping coffee, enjoying the stupendous view from his Rock. Harpo and Bouncer and Cat had walked up through the woods to sift through what was left of the monastery.

"I told him I bought this piece of the property,” said Lance.  “But he already knew it.  He would like you to call him in Fermoy."

"I imagine he would," I replied. "Maybe I will someday ."

"He interceded for you with the county district attorney when there was a possibility you'd be charged with leaving Agnes in the fire," said Lance.

"How the hell did he do that?" I asked. "I can't believe the D.A. would pick up the phone to find a Barry Fitzgerald sound-alike leprechaun on the other end of the phone line and take him seriously."

Lance chuckled, "It was the Governor's office of New York that called the District Attorney, not Saint Anne. Your superior is well connected."

"I'd bet the D.A. didn't prosecute because he knew he wouldn't get a conviction," I said. "I'm no lawyer, but I can't imagine being found guilty at a trial by my peers. Of course, I can't afford a defense and I do have better things to do than sit in the prisoner's dock waiting to be exonerated."

Lance looked at me closely. "You really don't feel guilty, do you?"

"Of course I do," I answered. "But it's what Agnes wanted."

"But if I pulled out a gun here and now," said Lance, "and made as if to shoot myself, you'd stop me wouldn't you?"

"Absolutely," I said, "but you're not dying from something else. Look, I took the responsibility for a Brother. It was not easy for me to leave him," I said.

"Not easy to leave a burning building?" Lance asked.

I looked at the man to see if he was accusing me.

"That's what Saint Anne told the Governor," said Lance. “That you're a foolish old monk scared silly of fire who ran from the building and left your superior behind. And was afraid to admit he was still alive and in the building."

By now I was angry. I could not find any words to speak that would have been fair to Lance. I wanted to lash out at him for the accusations he was bringing to me, though I knew ... or at least presumed ... they were not his.

I did not run from the Agnes.  When I went back into the building for him I could see a path in and out, and the fire was farther down the hall. I was not terrifically scared at that point. I looked at Lance finally and after taking a few breaths, I said, "That's not the way it happened, Lance."

Lance shrugged his shoulders, as if to say it didn't matter to him. Maybe he had seen men react in all kinds of ways, and valor or cowardice didn't surprise him.

"I thought you should know how you've been described to Dan Maguire, the D.A., " he said. "It might be important for you to choose a demeanor you want to affect in his presence, since you may see him again. Appearing like a frightened old man might be useful. Or maybe not. You'll have to decide."

"I hope I didn't appear that way in court at the inquest. And why would I see the D.A. again?" I asked.

"I've retained a friend as your counsel," he said. "Bill has spoken with Maguire and there's a concern about arson. The county forensic team thinks the fire was started."

"Started?"

"On purpose," said Lance. "Their analysis found advanced fire damage in a room near the print shop in the cellar. It looks like the fire was started in a travel trunk in the storeroom."