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“Yeah, we’re expanding to the north, building another three chicken houses, and a fourth one if we can. A business either expands or contracts, Detective. It never stays stagnant. That is, unfortunately, the nature of the beast, and we have to roll with it.”

Chase nodded. He didn’t know the first thing about running a business, but obviously Jock did, or else he wouldn’t be as successful as he was.

“Well, I sure think you’re a credit to this community, Jock,” said the Chief now. “I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, your chicken wings have helped put this town on the map, and I hope that expansion plan of yours is approved quickly.”

“Thanks, Alec. I hope so, too.”

“Of course! Who doesn’t like chicken wings?” He slapped his belly. “I sure do!”

Jock laughed, but then turned serious once more.“Anything you need from me, anything at all, you only have to ask. I want Grace back safe and sound. We may be going through a rough patch right now, but she’s still my wife, and the mother of my children, and Alicia, for one, is suffering tremendously—the poor girl is going through hell.”

“Don’t you worry about a thing, Jock,” said Chief Alec, as he shook the chicken king’s hand warmly. “We’ll find her for you.”

Chapter 19

“It’s an important mission, father,” said Gran. “A mission from God, so to speak.”

On Harriet and Shanille’s instigation, Gran had overcome her animosity towards Father Reilly, and had set out in search of the priest. She was now trying to overcome the man’s sales resistance and recruit him to the cause. Seated across from the holy man in his sacristy, which was also his office, she thought not forthe first time that it was a gloomy place, and chilly, too, and wondered why he didn’t turn up the heating. Then again, to heat up a place as big as a church probably cost the poor guy a lot of money.

“I’m not convinced, Vesta,” said the priest as he glanced at her over his half-moon glasses. Father Reilly was a ruddy-faced man with a kindly demeanor and a small tuft of white hair on top of his head. Contrary to what she’d expected he wasn’t dressed in a chasuble but in a crisp white shirt, black slacks and a colorful knit reindeer sweater which was so hideous it actually hurt Vesta’s eyes to look at it.

“You don’t think it’s important that we keep our streets clean of this horrible crap? Do you realize that when people step in dog poo they drag that stuff into your church?”

“Oh, I do realize the importance of getting rid of dog poo littering our streets and pavements,” said the priest, “but I don’t think the way to accomplish this is by going door to door convincing dog owners to buy a litter box. It’s very hard to convince people to adopt a policy that willset them back hundreds of dollars per annum. They can hardly spare a dime for the collection plate, much less spend their hard-earned cash on litter. Do you have any idea how much that stuff costs?”

“Nine ninety-nine for the box, one bag of litter included,” she intoned automatically, now well versed in her sales pitch, after having delivered it several times.

He smiled indulgently.“Look, I certainly appreciate what you’re trying to accomplish, Vesta, but don’t you think you should be talking to the Mayor instead? I’m sure punitive measures are a better way to accomplish your goals than affecting a change that is frankly a hard swallow for a lot of my parishioners andyour fellow Hampton Covians.”

“They’ll have to like it or lump it,” she said. “I’m not prepared to clean dog shit from my carpets every time a dog owner comes to visit. It’s disgusting, and I’m done with it.”

“No, I see what you mean,” he said, intertwining his fingers in a gesture of prayer, as if asking the good Lord above to give him strength, or perhaps a way to get rid of Vesta.

“Look, I’m not asking a lot here, father. All I want is for you to join me going door to door and trying to raise awareness. Is that so much to ask? And in the process you’ll be showing your face in town, and attract a couple of new souls for your church, too.”

He frowned.“Contrary to what you seem to think I’m not in the habit of acting like a door-to-door salesman. I have the dignity of my office to consider, and people don’t like to see their priest making house calls to sell dog litter.”

“You’re not selling dog litter, you’re selling an idea, and isn’t that what Christianity is all about? Selling people on the idea of Christ as their Lord and Savior? Now you’ll be doing the same thing, only you’ll be selling them on the idea of litter as their savior, or at least the savior of their fellow citizens’ health and the cleanliness of their carpets.”

“I don’t know…” he began, shaking his head.

“What if I started going to church again,” she said, “and I convinced all my friends to do the same? That’s at least two dozen people on your benches every Sunday, easy.”

He smiled.“You have the passion of the true believer, Vesta. And I do applaud that.”

“If you do this for me, I’ll… organize the next church raffle.”