Free Liturgical Mysteries 02 The Baritone Wore Chiffon by Mark Schweizer Page B

didn't know about this?"
    The entire choir nodded.
    "We found out at dinner," said Jeanie. "Shea was quite excited. She says that you never ask her to sing solos, but Princess…uh…Brenda was happy to include her in the program."
    "Ah well. Let's work on something suitably depressing then," I said. "Pull out the Mozart Ave Verum please."
    "Why do they use snakes anyway?" asked Rebecca as anthems ruffled in the folders.
    "Mark 16:18 — 'they will pick up snakes with their hands; and when they drink deadly poison, it will not hurt them at all...' Some denominations take it literally. At least some of the ones in the hills," I explained. I didn't really have this scripture memorized but Harley Ray and I had talked about it beforehand and decided that his real rattlers weren't a good idea. "Yep. They take it literally."
    "And do you take it literally?" asked Meg.
    "Absolutely. The Bible says 'they will take up snakes.' They. Not me. "

    •••

    On Saturday morning, at precisely six o'clock, my phone started ringing. I picked it up only because I knew who was on the other end.
    "Hi, Nancy. Any luck? Can the cows sleep safely in St. Germaine once more?"
    "I heard that you skipped the conference in Atlanta," Nancy said. "And, yeah. We caught the tippers. We had dozed off, but the donkey woke us all up."
    "Anyone we know?"
    "They were kids from a fraternity at Appalachian State. A rush prank."
    "Did you haul them in?" I asked.
    "No," she said. "They were a bunch of scared freshmen. Dave and I got their names and sent them back to school with a warning. They won't be back. Connie Ray wanted to shoot them on the spot."
    "Maybe you should have let him shoot just one as a warning to the others."
    "Go back to sleep, boss. We'll see you Monday."

    •••

    I heard Meg plundering the kitchen cabinets as I stepped out of the shower, dried off and stepped onto my digital scale.
    "Oh no!" I yelled, loudly enough for Meg to hear.
    "What's wrong?"
    I came out in my robe and sat at the table.
    "Bad news," I said, glumly. "I got on the digital scale and the number came up six-six-six. This is a Very Highly Advanced Digital Scale. It can't be wrong."
    "You're lucky that it isn't a Very Highly Advanced Digital Talking Scale. Otherwise you'd have heard 'Congratulations! You have lost two pounds and you are the Antichrist.'"
    "Here," I said, ushering her toward the bathroom. "You try it."
    "Weighing in is a private thing between a woman and her scale. I'll thank you to close the door."
    The door opened a moment later and Meg stepped out with a smile on her face.
    "Your scale says that I'm three pounds lighter than last week and that I have a lovely disposition."
    "Only because it didn't say you had gained three pounds."
    "Scales have feelings, too," she said. "By the way, it also said to tell you that you are not really the Antichrist and it was just horsing around."
    "That's even worse."
    "Worse?"
    "Maybe I actually do weigh six hundred sixty-six pounds."

    •••

    Meg had breakfast on the table by the time I was dressed. Archimedes had perched himself on a cookbook and was eyeing a limp mouse that Meg had placed on his saucer. Baxter was outside worrying a squirrel that had taken refuge in the barn, his barks echoing across the field.
    "Well, it's Monday. How is the Clown Eucharist shaping up?" she asked, feigning indifference even though I could tell she was eager for some gossip.
    "I'll trade you information," I said. "I'll tell you about the clowns if you spill about the Feng Shui Altar Guild."
    "Fair enough," she said eagerly and put down her fork. "Here's the latest. Mr. Christopher has decided to move the altar to the center of the church – right where the nave crosses the transepts. The idea is to put pews on three sides and face the altar but to avoid offending the rooster."
    "How do we avoid offending the rooster?"
    "I'm so glad you asked. Each month has a different ruling animal. In March, that's the rabbit – but the