Free Lethal Lineage by Charlotte Hinger Page A

controversy. A lot of people left the church over the ordination of women.”
    “Could she have used a different name?”
    “Not if she were ordained in this Diocese. I’ve traced every woman processed here. They are all either alive and well or dead and buried.”
    “So she entered the priesthood before she came here.”
    “Yes. And I’m inclined to agree with you. I believe she was a bona fide priest. Especially if she was involved with house churches. Parishioners who are devout enough to organize one usually know ritual backwards and forwards. I’ll see what I can find out. Which brings us to…”
    “Which brings us to the Grand Poo-Pah himself,” I said. “Why would anyone try to impersonate a Bishop?”
    “Can’t come up with an answer for that one either. I know for a fact Mary Farnsworth wasn’t ordained in this Diocese. And I believe she either changed her name or was simply using an assumed one. But this bishop fellow…” His voice trailed off.
    “I know this sounds like a cliché, but you’d really have to have been there.” I launched into all the gory details of the savage sermon, the people’s reaction and the awful finale of the man cutting a circle out of the carpet.
    “He’s not an Episcopal priest,” Rice instantly put his hands on his desk, shoved to his feet and began pacing. “He’s Catholic. An old, old-line Catholic. Haven’t heard of anyone doing that for years. He’s ultra conservative. They did that back in the 1800s.”
    I was relieved to know my own denomination didn’t cut out carpet for burning.
    “Who invited this man into my Diocese to begin with? Visiting clergy have to be cleared by me.”
    “A Mrs. Mabel Sidwell. She said it would be just fine and I didn’t know any better.”
    “Maybe not, but something’s rotten in Denmark, all right, Miss Albright.”
    “Worst of all, we’re not one bit closer to finding this poor woman’s family.” Actually, there was something worse. The mystery man’s comments that caused Mary to drop the chalice. But until I checked with Sam, I thought it prudent to withhold that detail.
    My cell phone rang. I flipped up the carrier on my purse and looked at the display. Sam.
    “Excuse me, but it’s Sheriff Sam Abbot. I have to take this.” Bishop Rice rose and gestured toward a door. “If you need privacy.”
    “Hello Sam. One moment. It’s not necessary for you to leave, sir.”
    Then blood thrummed in my ears as I listened. Bishop Rice watched and grew very still. I have the kind of complexion that visibly loses color. I could feel it happening now.
    “My god, Sam. I’m telling you that’s impossible. No, nothing here. Nothing at all. Bishop Rice checked the files. Is there anything else I should do while I’m here in his office? Or should I head back home?”
    Sam told me to take my time. I hung up the phone and squared my shoulders.
    “Bishop Rice. Sir, it is my sad duty to inform you that Reverend Mary Farnsworth was murdered.”

Chapter Thirteen
    The drive back to Western Kansas gave me time to think. I put in a classical CD, all instrumental, not wanting to be distracted by words from any wailing vocalist down on life. I was already filled with sorrow.
    Facts and puzzles chased through my mind like leaping squirrels. Sam had stated flatly in his no-nonsense, no-argument tone of voice, that Mary Farnsworth had been poisoned. That was a fact. The KBI said so. The bureau had moved Mary’s body to the state headquarters in Topeka to do a sophisticated screening.
    Fact two was there was no way in hell anyone could have murdered that woman. No way in or out of that door after she dropped the chalice. Besides, the anteroom was right off the sanctuary. Anyone coming or going would have been in full view of the congregation.
    My OnStar phone rang in. Sam again.
    “The KBI wants to process that chalice, Lottie, and when I told them about the carpet they want to look at that too. I just hope to hell you haven’t burned