Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon Read Online Free PDF

it was coming. What's the hurry though?" I asked.
    "I don't know. This guy is fresh out of seminary. A second career fellow. He used to be a lawyer."
    "Well, he should fit in well here. Still, I think they should have given you a little more notice."
    "Ah, it's fine," he said with a big grin. "Maybe they want to give this fellow some experience. I just hope that this time I can stay retired for a couple of months."

Chapter 4

    The next morning, she was waiting for me as I came into the office.
    "I'm a leper," she said. "And I know there's been a murder."
    It was an interesting introduction. My mind wandered back to how it all started. I was walking the streets, streets that exuded a smell that was stale--stale as day-old flop sweat on a stool pigeon. I had a good nose, a strong Roman nose, a nose that knows, and noses certainly ran in my family - especially when walking the streets. Other families could see trouble. Our family smelled. And I could smell trouble brewing. Or was that Marilyn's coffee?
    I had spent the morning picking the hymns for Sunday even though I knew Marilyn would change them. She didn't do it all the time - just enough to make me look bad. Here we were on Transfiguration Sunday and suddenly everyone was singing "It Only Takes A Spark." Subtle, yes, but there were those who knew the difference, and they didn't let me forget a liturgical faux-pas like that.
    There was a merger in the works. A merger between two dioceses and it was going to be messy. There were threats on both sides and the bishop wanted me to clear the way for this unholy union. I could do it. I had the goods on every priest in both dioceses. They knew that it was me who filled Mr. Big in on all the ministerial dope. I had the skinny on those birds, and they knew that when this merger took place, any one of them could end up as the priest of the Episcopal Parish of Weasel Junction.
    First on my list was Father Race Rankle, a retired priest from the old mother church with an agenda of his own. The word on the street was that he wanted to use the combined diocesan money to open an Episcopalian leper colony. Father Rankle was leaning heavily toward Biblical precedent, and I knew that if he could get it to a vote, he might just push it through.
    Suddenly I was nearly finished with this installment and I realized that there had been no sultry temptress introduced into the plot.
    I looked up and there she was--right on cue--lingering by the stained glass window, dressed in black with a nine foot boa constrictor wrapped around her neck.
    "I'm a leper," she said. "And I know there's been a murder."
    Somehow I knew she was going to say that.

    •••

    Meg and I had a huge fire going in the fireplace, doing our best to combat the late snowfall that had covered most of the mountains. I lit a Romeo et Julietta, my cigar of choice, surveyed the tranquil domestic scene from my leather club chair, and decided that the setting was the perfect picture of masculine contentment: a huge log cabin with a fire blazing, a beautiful woman reclining in her robe on the couch with a glass of wine in her hand, a loyal dog asleep in front of the fire, a Thelonious Monk CD on the stereo, and an owl sitting on the mounted elk head above the mantle eating a gerbil.
    "It's a nice article," said Meg, handing me the paper. "I never knew you were so accomplished."
    I looked at last Tuesday's paper. I had been so busy I hadn't had time to read it although I rarely read the paper anyway. The article featured my picture and the facts that I had given to Pete about the murder.
    "Pete likes the publicity for the town. It's my civic duty to become famous."
    "Tell me how you knew about the diamond," Megan said. "I'm very impressed."
    "Elementary, my dear. Here's the skinny."
    "The skinny?
    "The dope, the poop, the slant, the rap, the hinky."
    "Ah, now I understand," she said.
    "You see," I began, happy to explain my deductive prowess and show off a little. "You see, Kris Toth,