by Robert Weibezahl
“Bless me Father, for I have sinned,” George began to recite even before Father James had finished sliding open the ornate grille that separated penitent from priest in the confessional. “It has been two weeks since my last confession.”
He loathed the thing with a grand passion that far exceeded its worth. What was it exactly? Officially it was art, but you couldn't prove that by him. Even setting aside the philosophical argument over what is and what is not art, the thing was undeniably ugly. Sometimes Neena called it a sculpture, sometimes she referred to it as an installation. Whatever it was, Reggie hated the thing.
During the late 1940s, after World War II, Vince Pope retired from private investigation into a relatively luxurious life with his new wealthy socialite wife, Laura Thronson. He can’t escape his past or his reputation though and Pope continues to be consulted by potential clients pleading for him to return at least one more time to his occupation as a private eye.
