2 - Secrets: Ike Schwartz Mystery 2 Read Online Free PDF Page A

just tidying up some loose ends.”
    “Records? What kind of records? LPs, CDs, that sort, or paper files?”
    “Paper files. Tommy kept detailed notes of his counseling sessions, even taped some, I think. I told him not to, that it might create a problem later, but he said not to worry, they were safe. You know he was a trained and licensed psychotherapist—good at it, too. I sent him a dozen patients at one time or another. Anyway, his files are missing. He must have put them away in a safe place—attic maybe. Do me a favor and see if you can dig them out and send them to Doris. I’ll give you her address.”
    “Sure. But what do I do now with a dead organist and a Board in open rebellion?”
    “You know the rule every clergy person knows. When things seem dark and hopeless—”
    “Pray?”
    “No, drop back ten yards and punt.”
    “Philip, I said this is not a joking matter.”
    “No, you are right. I’m sorry. Give yourself a break. You’ve been their vicar for less than three months. It is still summer and people are away, occupied with other things, vacations, trips to the beach, baseball. Wait until later and you will see. Things will pick up. In the meantime, Mary Miller is a member of my congregation, and she lives up near you. I have tried to persuade her to attend Stonewall, but so far, she has refused. She visited there once in July and said she received such a chilly reception, she felt like she needed an overcoat. But, she plays the organ, has had some experience in the Methodist Church, I think. If I asked her, she might at least fill in while you get sorted out.”
    “That would be wonderful.”
    “Are you okay, Blake,” Philip turned serious, “aside from the murder?”
    “I suppose so. You said it yourself, though. They know about Philadelphia so I operate under a cloud. It is maddening. I have nothing to be ashamed of, I didn’t do anything, and yet I feel like a juvenile delinquent visiting his probation officer every time I attend a meeting.”
    “I can’t help you there, Blake. It’s something you will just have to ride out. Leaving this church, if that’s what’s on your mind, will only prolong the agony.”
    “I know. And I owe you, Philip, for giving me the chance to stay in ministry. God must have it in for me, though.”
    “You’re being too hard on yourself. I think he loves you and has finally given you a chance to find out what ministry is all about. If you can bring those people to an understanding of what God means when he tells us to love our neighbor, you and your ‘stiff necked’ congregation will have found a new life and a new calling.”
    Blake’s face turned red during Philip’s remarks.
    “Don’t be angry with me, Blake. You were the associate rector of a very fine, very rich, very prestigious mainline church. It had an enormous endowment, a paid choir, a two hundred and fifty thousand dollar tracker organ, stained glass windows to die for, and all the spirituality of a country club. You lived that life and it brought you down.” Philip waved off Blake’s beginning protest.
    “No, listen to me. You did. You were the young, single, handsome man that every mother hoped her daughter would marry. You had Bishop stamped on your heel and it seemed nothing could go wrong. But in all that time, Blake, did you ever feel the Spirit moving in your life? We talked a lot over the years, and most of it concerned things, appointments, commissions, how tight you were with the Bishop. We never spoke about holiness. God put you in Picketsville so you could learn those things. One thing is certain, that little church is not a springboard to a cardinal rectorship or a bishop’s purple shirt. You will bend to his will, Blake, or you will fall from grace.”
    Blake looked into the very brown and very serious eyes of his friend and knew he spoke the truth. His heart sank. Truth or not, Blake had not yet prepared himself to let go of the things he believed were his and for