Through the Evil Days: A Clare Fergusson/Russ Van Alstyne Mystery (Clare Fergusson and Russ Van Alstyne Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF

comes from having much finer antiques at home. “Clare, I want you to know Karen and I support you one hundred percent.”
    “Thanks, Geoff. That—”
    “Although I still think you’re crazy for taking up with Van Alstyne. Hi, Terry.” The lawyer nodded to the portly banker entering the room. “I’ve got plenty of divorced friends I could have introduced you to if I had known you were actually getting serious about the guy.”
    “There was that nice fellow from Barkley Investments,” Terry McKellan agreed, shucking off his puffy parka. “I liked him.”
    “He knew wines,” Geoff said.
    “Yes, Hugh Parteger was a lovely man. However,” Clare could hear her voice stretching, “I’m married and expecting, so I think you can say I’ve well and truly made my bed.”
    “And now you have to lie in it?” Sterling Sumner didn’t enter the meeting room, he made an entrance, with the rest of them serving as his audience.
    “Sterling…” Mrs. Marshall’s usually composed voice sharpened.
    “I’m just saying this sort of thing didn’t happen back when we only had male clergy. Which is what I told the bishop.”
    Oh, wonderful. Clare wasn’t just embarrassing her own congregation, she was putting a black mark on every woman in the diocese.
    “It seems to me,” Mrs. Marshall said, “male clergy have had their share of scandals.”
    “Scandal? For God’s sake. We’re not living in the nineteenth century.” Geoff Burns thumped his coffee mug on the sideboard. “Hell, nowadays, the fact a couple actually gets married before bringing a child into the world is enough to earn them a gold star from Miss Manners.”
    “Barely exceeding the low expectations of the present day is hardly what we’re here for, though, is it?” Sterling took his seat, tugging his cashmere scarf for emphasis.
    “Back in our day, there were plenty of girls who walked up the aisle in a tight-waisted dress, Sterling.” Mrs. Marshall accepted a cup of tea from Norm Madsen and carried it to the table. “As long as the niceties were observed, no one commented if they had six-and-a-half-pound premature babies.” She paused. “Well. No one nice would comment.”
    Clare felt a weight pressing on her chest. At that moment, she was sure if she tore open her blouse, the letters PMS would be emblazoned over her breastbone. Pre-Marital Sex.
    “Excuse me. Sorry.” Clare looked up to see Lois sidling through the door past two figures in black clericals. The Reverend Elizabeth de Groot entered, closely followed by the Archdeacon, Willard Aberforth. They made an odd pair; the one petite and composed, the other stiltlike and stooping. One worked closely with Clare as part of the St. Alban’s family. The other was opposed to women’s ordination in general and many of Clare’s actions in particular. One would throw her under a bus with a regretful moue. The other would step in front of the bus in her place, lecturing her until the moment he was mown down.
    Aberforth had already divested himself of coat and boots, which meant he had stopped at Elizabeth’s office before proceeding to the meeting room. Clare tried to gauge his news by the look on de Groot’s fine-boned face. The problem was, her deacon only had three basic expressions, as far as Clare could tell. Saintly patience, regret, and I’m disappointed in you. No, there was a fourth. Smiling bravely. She was using it right now, crossing the room, looking as if she’d just heard that the rector of St. Alban’s had a fatal disease. “Clare. Oh, Clare. Are you nervous?”
    “Archdeacon Aberforth’s just here to tell the vestry the next step in the bishop’s review.” Clare kept her voice calm. “I don’t think he’s going to hand me a bell and send me out to cry, ‘Unclean.’”
    “I wish I had your sense of humor. It just makes me sick to think—” Elizabeth touched the silver cross on her chest. “Well, I suppose that’s the benefit of being so impulsive. You never