Read Murdering Ministers Online
Authors: Alan Beechey
Murdering Ministers (35 page)
“That tickles.”
“Sorry.”
“Did I tell you to stop doing it?” Effie lay back contentedly in the water and handed Oliver a flannel and a bar of soap. “All right, because you were honest, you may wash whatever parts of me you can reach.”
He leaned forward and set about the task with gleeful concentration, his tongue protruding slightly from the edge of his mouth.
“I hate to bring up Geoffrey Angelwine's name at a time like this,” she said, “but he called just after you got into the bath.”
“What does he want, Tish Belfry's telephone number?”
“As a matter of fact, yes. But he also had a message about your article for that website about Sundays in London.”
“
Celestial City
? Oh, well, I know it's late, but I've certainly got a story nowâintrigue, blackmail, murder, sex-changes, heroism, fires⦔
“It's off,” she said abruptly.
“Huh?”
“
Celestial City
folded after its first edition. According to Geoff, nobody on the editorial staff could think of anything to do on a London Sunday.”
“Oh. Well, I didn't really want to write the article, so that news makes a rather nice Christmas present.” A sudden thought troubled him. He dropped the soap and sat back.
“Er, Effie. What would you say if I'd just remembered that I didn't get you anything for Christmas?”
She sat up and considered the statement, resting her elbows on his shoulders.
“I'd say you were a sweet, sensitive, thoughtful boyfriend who knew that I had no time to get you a gift because of my workload at Plumley, and who wanted to spare me the shame of receiving without giving. And I'd say that, as far as I'm concerned, I can't think of a better present than the presentâhaving you all to myself on Christmas morning. Now, I'm fed up with the taps sticking in my back.”
“Okay, we'll swap,” Oliver said, relieved enough to put up with any discomfort for this extraordinary woman.
“No, stay there. I'll join you at your end.” She pushed him back into the water and slithered up his soapy body until their faces were inches apart.
“Merry Christmas, Oliver,” she said softly.
“Merry Christmas, Effie.”
***
“Of course,” she said, a little later. “It's understood that, on the day after Boxing Day, you and your credit card will be first in the queue at the nearest jeweler's.”
“Of course.”
Religion is a touchy subject. It's quite possible that a believer could read this book and see it as a vindication of his or her faith, while another could declare its mere existence a case of blasphemy in the first degree. Similarly antithetical views could be held by a brace of atheists. That's why I can't emphasize enough that this is not a religious book but a murder mystery thatâlike many, many othersâhas a religious setting. As characters, Oliver Swithin and his friends have their own opinions about the varying and occasionally conflicting beliefs held by other characters in this story. As a narrator, I have tried, and probably failed, to remain terminally neutral.
Behavior is different from belief, however. Because of the settingâchosen because it was a very familiar aspect of my childhood and youthâall of the murder suspects have to be devoted churchgoers. If the intense scrutiny of their private lives reveals behavior, physical or mental, that seems at odds with the Christian faith as you understand it, dear reader (and, short of actual murder, most of the incidents and opinions I recount are based on my own observation, although naturally, the characters themselves are entirely fictitious and they know it), please judge them not as representatives of any faith, but as the fallible human beings we all are. Or don't judge them at all. Lestâ¦you know.
I'd like to thank the resourceful Luci Zahray, who gave me generous assistance with the technicalities of certain poisons (and whose story of what happened when her dog ate yeast and chocolate chips is too astounding to make its way into a work of fiction); if I still have the details wrong, it's entirely my fault. And I'd like to thank my friend the Reverend Peter Carey, who donated the best joke in the book, and who is hereby absolved from accountability for any other part of it, religious or otherwise.
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