Murder at the National Cathedral Read Free Page B

not, in Anglo-Catholic eyes, adhere strictly enough to
Catholic
doctrine, of all things. They were
for
peace, to be sure, but not for disturbing it.
    Singletary, on the other hand, was very much part of what was called the Broad Church (in political jargon, the Episcopal “liberal party”). There was also the so-called Evangelical movement, claiming to represent a middle ground of philosophy but firmly sin-based, Luther- and Calvin-influenced, and without much respect from either the conservative or the liberal wing of the church.
    Word of Peace was a distinctly liberal movement, aggressively intermixed with Singletary’s widely publicized work with drug addicts, runaway teens, the homeless, and a score of other social causes back in D.C. And nationally. Truth was, it was not those social causes but politics that prompted criticism of the Word of Peace movement. The movement stood for boycotting South Africa until it rid itself of apartheid, and for getting out of Ollie North’s Central America and dissociating from its so-called freedom fighters. The olive branch in place of the B-1. Politics!
    Singletary looked at his watch again. He said, “You know, Malcolm, you and I are both canons because we serve bishops and cathedrals. I will give you that your boss holds higher rank, but mine, George St. James, is not exactly, assome of my friends would say, ‘chopped liver.’ I would also remind you that in both Luke and Matthew Our Lord calls for the church to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, heal the sick, be the harbinger of comfort and caring and hope.”
    “I am familiar with Matthew and Luke.”
    “Wasn’t it from the gate I entered this afternoon that the Lambeth dole was practiced?” Singletary frowned as he pulled from his memory the words “ ‘Every Friday and Sunday, unto every beggar that came to the door, a loaf of bread of a farthing price.’ ”
    Apt stretched another thin smile.
    “And you’re also familiar with what Canon Casson told the executive council,” Singletary said. “That the Gospel isn’t believable unless the church relates to its neighborhoods—including the larger neighborhood called the planet.”
    “So endeth the lesson!” Apt stood. “I have another appointment.”
    “So do I. I’m already late.”
    “Safe journey home, Paul.”
    “Yes. Please tell the archbishop how disappointed I was not to be able to see him on this trip.”
    “You didn’t come to London just to see him, did you?”
    “You know I didn’t. Still, first things first …”
    “You’ll be staying a few days?”
    “One more day. I have a meeting tomorrow in your limpid countryside. Then back to Washington on Thursday.”
    Singletary picked up his black raincoat from the chair. Apt opened the study door. And began to accompany him. Singletary said, “It’s okay, Malcolm, I know my Luke, Matthew, and the way out.”
    Singletary had been provided a car and driver by the London Word of Peace Committee for his visit to Lambeth Palace. It was at his disposal for the evening. He climbed in the back of the navy-blue Ford and gave the driver an address in Mayfair, near Berkeley Square. When theyreached it, the driver slowed to read numbers. Singletary said, “This will be fine.”
    “Shall I wait?” the elderly British driver asked.
    Singletary wrinkled his brow and pursed his lips in thought. “No, Bob, I think I’ll be here awhile. I’ll take a cab back to the hotel or walk. It isn’t far. Thank you very much for your courtesy.”
    Singletary waited until the car had been driven away. Then, after looking left and right, he walked back to the corner of Charles Street and went up Davies Street. At number 418 he climbed the short set of steps and announced his arrival with three brisk raps of the brass knocker on the red door.
    “Paul?” a voice asked from behind the door.
    “Yes.”
    The door was opened by a tall and slender, broad-shouldered woman of thirty-one. Clarissa Morgan possessed what