Murdering Ministers Read Online Free PDF Page B

downward. “She’s very fond of him.”
    â€œHe’s a good man,” Sam Quarterboy cut in, as if the remark were a work in progress rather than a final judgment. “Of course, there were those of us who didn’t take to his High Church ways at first. And there’s a little too much theology in his sermons, for my taste. But we’ve come to respect him.”
    â€œWell, I for one prefer a little meat on the bone of my sermons,” cried Barry Foison unexpectedly, in a high-pitched voice. “I found this evening’s sermon refreshing and thought-provoking, and frankly, I’m disgusted that horrible man Tapster had the gall to criticize Paul in front of the whole church.”
    â€œThe question I ask myself,” said Potiphar, stirring to life, “is who granted this Nigel Tapster the dispensation to preach unto us this evening? The elders of the church were not consulted. Is this to become a regular part of our worship? There’s nothing in my Bible about guitars.” He fondled the book, which lay in his lap.
    â€œThe young people seemed to enjoy Mr. Tapster’s music,” Oliver commented as he wrote some thoughts in his notebook. When nobody answered, he looked up. Eventually, Joan Quarterboy broke the clumsy silence.
    â€œWe’re a little concerned about Nigel’s influence over our young people, Mr. Swithin,” she explained, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, although the entire room was following the conversation. “We’re rather afraid he wants to alienate the children from the church. They’ve taken to meeting privately in the Tapsters’ home after the evening service, and sometimes during the week, too. Nigel and Heather Tapster have some odd ideas, it seems.”
    â€œOdd ideas?” Oliver echoed. Joan seemed to warm to her new role as storyteller.
    â€œWell, Patience Coppersmith’s son, Billy, is about the same age as our Tina, and he got her to go with him to a couple of Nigel’s prayer meetings. But she came back with some very peculiar stories, about spirits making her do things, hearing people speak in tongues, and the like. She’s at that impressionable age, you see, Mr. Swithin. So Sam put his foot down and insisted that she come home with us after church from now on. Billy is still part of Nigel’s little group, though, and I know Patience is sick with worry about him. Apparently, Nigel tried to do the same thing at his last church, Thripstone Central. But there was some sort of scandal, and he was asked to leave.”
    â€œWhat sort of scandal?” Oliver pressed, sensing fodder for his story. Joan looked uncomfortable.
    â€œI believe it had something to do with a girl,” she said, mouthing the last word as if she was referring to a gynecological problem. “Barry can tell you. He used to go to Thripstone.”
    Foison crossed his slim legs and wrapped his right shin behind his left calf. “This was a couple of years ago, before Heather and Nigel got married,” he claimed. “They’d only just met. She was a missionary in Brazil for most of the time Nigel was at Thripstone.”
    â€œNow, now, Barry,” Quarterboy interrupted, “I’m sure we don’t want to give Mr. Swithin the impression that we sit around after church gossiping like a lot of old women.”
    The criticism found its mark. Foison seemed to shrink inside his large, baggy sweater, aware of the eyes watching him. Behind Oliver, Elsie Potiphar mumbled something that sounded like “lot of old women, yourself, tosh,” but when he turned, she was staring into space. Ben diplomatically started a conversation with Foison.
    â€œIf Tina’s friends continue to go to the Tapsters’ meetings, aren’t you worried she might still be drawn to their circle?” Oliver asked Joan quietly.
    â€œShe’d never defy her father,” Sam cut in, with a small self-satisfied