Theeeere it was. Father Richards.

Malachi wore a mask of calm neutrality as the constable spoke, betraying nothing of what he thought about his mention of the other priest in particular. If the church had indeed told him about it or not, he didn't indicate one way or the other.

He raised a curious (or was it, once again, just amused?) brow at the idea that Crane had some issue that couldn't be fixed, and another smile curved the edges of his mouth.

"There's no need to apologize," he dismissed first. "You have an incurable evil in you, Constable Crane? I suppose that darkness fuels the terrible things you do, like bringing gifts to the injured and helping young women find shelter?"

Malachi didn't believe that one bit, and it showed.

"There is nothing that God can't forgive. And, for that matter, nothing that I will not try to help you with."