The Monk (DS Cross Mysteries, #5)

by Tim Sullivan

He wore a strong aftershave that came into a room before him, announced itself loudly, then refused to leave.

‘There’s always a pattern of logic in these situations which never occurs to people when they’re planning them. A logic which either in itself gives them away, or gives them away because they break from it.’

One comes to understand over such a lengthy lifespan that disapproval is, more often than not, a pointless exercise.

‘Who have taken a vow of chastity.’ ‘Indeed, but if vows were easy to abide by, what would be the point of them?’ ‘I hadn’t considered that up until now,’ remarked Cross. ‘It makes eminent sense.’

there are ways of being less honest in life which don’t necessarily qualify as dishonesty,’ he replied mischievously.

As the conversation progressed, so the sense of loss seemed to bear down like a heavy mantel on the shoulders of the priest. Ottey found it strange in these situations, where someone hadn’t seen a friend or relative for a lengthy period of time, how the knowledge of their death was still devastating. Maybe in a different way from if they’d still been present in their lives, but still shocking. She wondered if it was tinged with feelings of guilt. Certainly regret, she thought.

‘When sailors boiled meat, usually salted, fat or grease would form at the top of the pot. They would skim this off. It was called slush. The officers would then sell the slush to tallow makers and use the proceeds to make small purchases for the ship’s crew. So it became known as the slush fund.’

‘Sorry to meet you in these circumstances,’ he went on. ‘In my experience people are generally sorry to meet the police in any circumstances,’ replied Cross.

‘I disagree. I don’t go looking for the worst in people. I go looking for the truth and sometimes that leads me to see the worst in them,’ replied Cross. ‘A fine distinction and well put,’ William commented.

This together with the fact that his gums above were receding quicker than a Morecambe Bay tide, gave away the fact that they were artificial.

It’s odd how grief hits you even when it comes to someone you haven’t seen in a long while,’ Stephen replied. ‘But you have your faith,’ said Cross. ‘My faith is indeed a way of tempering my grief at a time of loss, in that I believe I will see him again. That doesn’t mean to say I won’t miss him in this world,’ Stephen replied.

What I meant to say was that it must be some comfort to believe that you will get to see him again, make up for lost time,’ said Cross.