(This is a deleted scene from the beginning of The Church Murder Case. There was more to say about marriage in U-town than was included here, but it really slowed things down to put it all in, especially since the story isn't really about marriage anyway. But I think it is interesting, so here it is.)

"This has always confused me," Father Frank continued, "and some of my parishioners as well. It seems almost as if anybody who says they're married is considered married."

"That's not far from the truth," my employer replied. "Most countries in the world, and most religions, consider marriage a good thing in the abstract. We don't. Because most societies consider it a good thing, they encourage people to get married, by giving them financial and other benefits for doing so.

"Once that starts to happen, then you have to be able to reliably identify who is married and who isn't, so you can be sure you're giving those benefits only to the right people."

"And, of course, societies use this to enforce their particular views on who should be able to get married and who shouldn't." She shrugged. "We don't do any of that, frankly because we don't care. Get married, or not, what does it matter to us? You get no benefits from us, so we have no reason to track who is married and who isn't." She smiled. "It makes life so much easier.

"Which doesn't mean we're against marriage on an individual basis. Marshall and I are married, but I'm not going to impose that on other people, any more than I would try to force people to smoke cigarettes and wear neckties, just because I do."

"What about incest?" Father Frank asked.

She frowned. "Are you asking in relation to marriage?"

"Yes. What if two people who were blood relations wanted to get married?"

She looked thoughtful. "An interesting question, in theory. Does it have any basis in fact? Do you know of any instances of this happening?"

He shook his head. "No, thank God. But it sounds like you're leaving the door open."

She laughed. "I suppose we are, and thank you for pointing that out. But I think we'll hold off on worrying about that scenario until we find out if it's real. Not that incest of various sorts doesn't occur, but I don't believe it usually ends up with a desire for matrimony." She shrugged. "Abstract theoretical discussions can be challenging and fruitful, but public policy should really be bounded by reality."

There was more she could have said, that she would have said under different circumstances. But I could tell she was on her guard, trying to figure out what Father Frank was after, and she certainly wasn't going to discuss any personal matters with him.

What she would have said, under different circumstances, was that she and I had, rather unintentionally, set the tradition for weddings in U-town. We had asked Doc to preside, because she was in charge and because she was our friend. What we had not anticipated was that, after that, everybody would want Doc to conduct their weddings.

Doc used to complain about this from time to time, saying, "If I had known what this would lead to, I'd have let you two continue to live in sin."

When she said this, my employer would just smile, secure in the happy knowledge that, of all the couples who had ever been married in U-town, none of them had ever been better dressed than we had been.

The photographs of us, in our matching morning coats, had been published in many newspapers all over the world. Ray's theory for the surprising reach of the story was that it both supported people's view of U-town (as a place where eccentric things happened) and subverted it (since the general impression of U-town was that the citizens were all quite scruffy and unkempt).

Of course, there was another theory, which was that many of the photographs showed the entire wedding party, and Vicki had surprised everybody by not wearing her usual all-black ensemble of jeans, T-shirt, and leather jacket. Instead, she had worn a dress, and newspaper editors are not too noble to run a photo featuring a small teenage girl who just happens to be showing a lot of cleavage.

(I forgot to post this last night. It's a deleted scene, from the end of the third novel. It was abandoned when I decided to do the last four chapters in Marshall's first person, since, for obvious reasons, it's a conversation which wouldn't ever have happened if Marshall had been there. Ray's feelings were touched on here, but they were not mentioned in the third novel, at least as far as I can remember. Oh, and there are more developments in the mystery story here.)

Tammy threw her long arms around Sam. Neil caught Ray's expression and smiled. "What's tickling you, Stone?" he demanded.

"Just wondering if you're happy or sad that the boyfriend is back on the scene. And wondering if what you did was voluntary or not."

"Voluntary? Are you kidding? Don't tell me you haven't thought about it."

Ray lit a cigarette. "I haven't, actually. I've always found her to be rather scary."

"Exactly," Neil said, slapping him on the back (and nearly knocking him over). "Those are the ones to go after. Always." He shrugged. "Don't get me wrong, to answer your other question. I'm not sorry Sam is here. I had no desire for anything ongoing with her, and neither did she. But it was worth doing, that's for sure. That's an attractive family, and she's even more so than her daughters."

"I don't think they're available to you anyway."

"I'm sure not. Jan is devoted, obviously, and Vicki, even apart from her preferences, is too young. I have a daughter that age. Besides, maturity is worth waiting for." He laughed, and Ray flinched, as if expecting another slap on the back. "Anyway, would you have sex with a married woman who is in constant telepathic contact with her husband? One stray thought and the game is up."

"I don't think it's constant," Ray said, "but you're right. Of the three–"

"Oh, come on. I've seen how you look at our young leader. I'd never mention it to anybody else, but it is pretty obvious."

Ray sucked on his cigarette and looked down at the ground.

"Of course, you have no idea what I'm talking about."

Ray nodded. "I assumed that went without saying."

There's a bit of a loose end in U-town (well, there are a bunch of them, but this is the one we're focusing on this week), located here. In this episode, two names are mentioned for the first time, SarahBeth Wasserman and Blacky Oliver. We get to meet SarahBeth later on, of course, but there is no further mention of Blacky. We'll meet him eventually, but here is a scene which originally appeared in The Mystery Dance.

Blacky woke up and the room was still spinning around. He passed his hand lightly over his forehead, which was dripping sweat, and his headache throbbed so unbearably that the pain seemed audible, as if heavy machinery were operating under his bed.

"I'm never going to drink again," he said, his throat barely producing a sound.

"Probably a good idea, Mr. Olivieri," came a low voice. Blacky grabbed his gun from the bedside table and sat up in bed, holding it pointed at the woman sitting primly in the far corner of his hotel room, pocketbook perched on one shapely knee.

"Who are you?" he demanded, trying to act as if he hadn't picked up the telephone receiver by mistake. At least his voice was starting to work.

She ignored the telephone pointed at her. "I want to hire you, Mr. Olivieri–"

"Oliver," he corrected. "Blacky Oliver." He hung up the telephone and rubbed his eyes very gently. Moving so quickly had made his headache even worse, and he was starting to feel nauseous.

"I moved your gun to the bureau over there," she explained, "in case you should be startled to find me here. And I took the liberty of making a glass of a mixture that does wonders for hangovers. An old family recipe. It's there on the table."

He looked suspiciously at the tall glass of red liquid. "How do I know–"

"If I meant you harm, I could have killed you in your sleep."

He examined this assertion, found it logical, and drank the warm mixture as quickly as he could. Like most home hangover cures, it was thoroughly vile, and immediately he had to run to the bathroom and spend quite some time throwing up.

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Here's the second deleted scene with Pete and Daphne. It takes place the following morning, day of the funeral.

I awoke confused and disoriented. Someone was screaming in frustration, though the sound was strangely muffled. As I gradually came to my senses in the dim apartment, I realized it had to be starling. I lurched up out of bed and across the room, bumping hard into the edge of the table as I went.

She seemed to be stuck inside of the sleeping bag. No part of her was visible, and she was thrashing from side to side, trying to free herself. I said her name, but she didn't react. I put my hand on some part of her, but she began to struggle even harder. I started to think she'd rip right out through the fabric.

In the movies, the next step would have been to slap her, but I couldn't have done that, and besides it would have been hard to tell what to slap. I threw myself over her, trying to pin her down, and said her name again. Her struggles lessened and I suddenly remembered that she always slept with a gun in the sleeping bag with her. I wished I'd remembered that earlier, or not at all.
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This is the first of two deleted scenes with Pete and Daphne. This is the night before the funeral, when the invitations were delivered. Next week, I'll post the next one, which takes place the following morning.

I nodded, then I went into the bedroom. Daphne didn't seem to have moved. I squatted by the bed. "I think they're making funeral plans at The Quarter tonight," I said. "Do you want to come?"

She sighed. I stood up. "A walk will probably do you good. Come on." I slapped my thigh. "Come on, girl!" I said. "Come on, Daph."

She got up on all fours and padded reluctantly over to me. I shrugged. "You don't have to go," I said. "You want to stay here and romp and play with starling?"

She cocked her head to one side and then turned away. I thought she was going to lie down again, but she ducked her head to snatch her leash from the pile of bed clothes. She brought it over to me and I hooked it to her collar.

So, we started out for The Quarter. A boy and his dog. As Henshaw would have said, heartwarming.

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A few shorter deleted scenes this time around, centered around the band Kingdom Come. This one is at the coffee and tea store where Pete worked, right before he had another visitor. Also, I (obviously) just figured out how to add "more" links at the bottom of the longer posts, like the deleted scenes.

Carl was coming in, and he made a brief pantomime of pushing through a crowd of customers. He reached the counter, turned and held up his arms. "Everybody step back!" he demanded. "I need to talk to Pete!" He turned and perched on the edge of the counter. "I don't know how you run this place all by yourself," he said, grinning.

"I know," I said. "The pressure would be the ruin of a lesser man."

Carl was my roommate, the drummer in the band, and probably my best friend in the world. Also, if drummers in rock and roll bands have a bad reputation, he may well be the reason.

"I hear we're on for Friday night," he said.

I shrugged. "I'll believe it when it happens."

"You've got to work on your positive mental attitude, son," he said. "Me, I have only one thing on my mind." I laughed, and he laughed, too. "Well, okay, maybe two. And I'll tell you what the other one is." He swung around on the countertop, bringing his legs up to sit cross-legged facing me.

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