The Countertenor Wore Garlic (The Liturgical Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page B

at it grammar and prongs ever since."
    "We are defined by our enemies," I said.
    Noylene looked puzzled, then glanced toward the front door as she heard the cowbell clank. "I guess. Anyway, here's Cynthia. She's picking up my shift."
    We looked toward the door and saw Cynthia Johnsson making her way through the crowd gathered at the entrance of the café.
    "Thanks for the pancakes, Noylene," said Dave. "You're a peach!"
    Noylene accorded him a wan smile, tossed her apron into a laundry basket behind the counter, and disappeared through the kitchen. My phone buzzed and I took it out and looked at it. A text from Meg.
    "You know how to text?" said Nancy. "When did this happen?"
    "I don't really know how to text, but I know how to read. They're two different and mutually exclusive skill sets. See?"
    I held the phone up so Nancy could see it.
    "I just pick the phone up and read it. It's amazing."
    "But you can't actually send a text?" asked Dave.
    "I guess I could if I wanted to," I replied, "but why bother? I just pick up the phone and call."
    "Maybe the person on the other end doesn't want to talk to you," said Cynthia. She now had her apron on and was filling coffee cups around the table. "With a text, you can say a few quick words and be done. You don't have to chat about the weather and such. You can get off the phone quick."
    "I do that now," I said.
    "It's true," agreed Nancy. "He does. No chitchat. So what did Meg want?"
    "See, that's another thing. As soon as your phone dings, everyone wants to know what someone wants."
    "Ooo," said Nancy, blowing across the top of her coffee and then taking a slurp. "Touchy."
    I sighed. "I'm supposed to meet her and Bev and Gaylen at the church. Right now. Big meeting."
    "Not good news I'll bet," said Pete.
    "No sir," I said. "I suspect not."

Chapter 3

    St. Barnabas Episcopal Church, the oldest church in St. Germaine, was founded in 1846. It has an unusual history including two devastating fires and some genuine miracles. The first of these (both the fire and the miracle) happened in January of 1899. When the parishioners showed up for services on that icy winter morning, they found their church building in smoldering ruins. They were shocked and saddened, of course, but this shock soon gave way to wonder and then to praise as the congregants gathered around the altar of St. Barnabas—an altar that should have been destroyed in the fire, but had instead been discovered outside the church in the snow, all the communion elements in place. The consensus of those looking upon the miracle was that the heavy altar had been transported outside the inferno by angels. The marble top of the table had been replaced a few years ago, but that didn't seem to bother anyone. The legend of the angelic intervention was gospel in our part of the country.
    The second church building was constructed in the early 1900s. It was a beautiful stone and wood church built on a familiar design. The nave, or main body of the church, was in the shape of a cross. The transepts, near the front formed the arms of the cross. The high altar (after having survived the fire) was placed on the dais in the front, a smaller Mary altar in a transept, with the choir and the pipe organ in the back balcony. The steps to the choir loft were in the narthex, the entrance to the church. The sacristy, where the clergy put on their vestments and where communion was prepared, was behind the front wall. Two invisible doors in the paneling behind the altar offered access to the sacristy from the nave. It wasn’t a large structure. Seating was limited to about two hundred fifty.
    That building burned to the ground at Thanksgiving three years ago.
    I exited the Slab Café, crossed the street and made my way across Sterling Park, loose leaves rustling underfoot with every step. The dark red doors of St. Barnabas were standing open, as was our tradition in good weather at least, a welcoming gesture to all those tourists who found themselves