As Harry waited for the police to arrive he thought. He thought hard. He had no idea if he had committed a crime. Come to think of it he had no idea if a crime had been committed, although trying to envisage the situation on his mat arising accidentally sent him running back to his southern comfort.
He was about to wipe the handle of the knife but stopped short. His knife. His prints. No problem. No prints. Problem. His mind was working again. He showered and changed.
Inspired he returned to his desk and the parish profile document that had caused so much trouble. He typed:
As our new Rector you will be a person of discretion and decisiveness. You will be able to take the diverse and varied views of a gifted yet occasionally strong-willed congregation and make a team. You will lead them in the mission to convert the town ensuring that all threats to the unsaved world are no more than implied. You will be able to take care of yourself. As a resource investigator you will have good contacts when dirty work is required and inside knowledge of ecclesiastical goods. When two or three are gathered together in God's name they'll need something to sit on. You will have good administrative skills and will know where the bodies are buried. This is no job for a broad.
It was looking better already. He could see the new Rector photographed next to a shiny new notice board. The sign saying, 'Come to church. If you know what's good for you.'
The doorbell disturbed his dream. Flinging the bottle into his desk drawer and chewing on a mint he went to welcome the young officers he could see through the glass.
No idea where this will lead yet but more tomorrow.