"Are you Inspector Norris?"
The agent nodded, not daring to talk.
"I'm Father Paulson. I'm calling on behalf of a James O'Reilley. I think you know him. May I come in?"
Grudgingly, Norris swung open the door. "If you can stand the smell of paganism, come on in."
The priest chuckled politely. Norris led him to the parlor and turned on the light. He waved toward a chair.
"What's this all about? Does O'Reilley want something?"
Paulson smiled at the inspector's brusque tone and settled himself in the chair. "O'Reilley is a sick man," he said.
The inspector frowned. "He didn't look it to me."
"Sick of heart, Inspector. He came to me for advice. I couldn't give him any. He told me the story—about this Peony. I came to have a look at her, if I may."
Norris said nothing for a moment. O'Reilley had better keep his mouth shut, he thought, especially around clergymen. Most of them took a dim view of the whole mutant business.