Read Online 3 Gates of the Dead (The 3 Gates of the Dead Series) by Jonathan Ryan - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jonathan Ryan
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spoke in a Scarlett Johansson voice. Low but feminine.
“Fine, detective. How are you?”
I smiled at Jake and Julie to assure them.
“Good, thank you. I was wondering if you had any time to come down to the station this afternoon.”
What in the world?
“Hold on, let me check.” I looked at my schedule. “Sure, but may I ask what this is about?”
“Of course. We think you might have some information we need to clear up some points in an ongoing investigation.”
“Can I ask about what you are investigating?”
“I would rather not say over the phone. We prefer to handle this sort of thing at the station because officially we have to record our conversation. Typical police procedure. I’m sure you understand.”
I paused. “Sure, just let me know the time and place.”
“Say, one o’clock at the main building downtown?”
“Sounds good.”
“Great, see you then. Thank you very much, Pastor Schaeffer.”
“No problem, detective, talk to you soon.”
I hung up the phone and turned back to Jake and Julie. “Now, where were we?”
“Are you sure you want to go on?” Julie asked.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal. They just need some advice on some things.”
Jake butted in. “So, you were insulting me.”
I held up my hands. “Not insulting you, Jake. I’m just pointing out that since we started a few weeks ago, you’ve resisted any notion that you bear some of the responsibilities for the condition of this marriage. I’ve tried to be tactful, but that wasn’t working.”
“Seems to me you’re being a pansy.”
I gripped the handles on my chair. “I think we are done for the day. Think over what I said.”
I did the obligatory end-of-session prayer, following the standard Protestant formula that gives the irony to our hatred of written prayers. “Dear Lord, we know we are broken people, and we confess our brokenness. O Lord, help us to admit our sin and need for You. Show us in Your word how to relate to one another. We ask this in Your Son’s name, Amen.”
Jake and Julie left the office as Jake took the time to give me, what he probably thought, was an intimidating glare. I’d seen it a million times, guys like him, heavily into compensation when their manhood got challenged in any way. I figured he would just go out and buy a bigger truck or something.
I sat back in my chair to think about the phone call from Detective Brown. What in the world was that about? I had enough to deal with right now. Maybe it was the parking ticket I got a few days ago. No, I had another week to pay that. Maybe they needed some sort of theological piece of information? If that was the case, why did they call me? I was an assistant pastor at a fairly small church, not really what you would call consulting material. I always pictured that kind of role to be reserved for pastors of mega-churches or respected scholars.
I worked hard to finish my tasks for the day so I could be out of the office by noon. There wasn’t much to do except plan the worship service, write a few emails, and make an outline for Sunday school.
As I made my way out the door, I stopped by Sherry’s desk. “Sherry, would you please send my phone messages by email? I lose paper all the time, and it would really help me keep track.”
She looked at me over her reading glasses. “I don’t like sending email. People might access my private information by email.”
“Sherry, no one can get your information by just sending an email.”
“Not what my friends at the coffee shop say.”
Sherry was a part of a women’s study group that Mike and I had dubbed the “Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse.” They didn’t really study the Bible. They just sat around and traded conspiracy theories for two hours every Saturday morning.
“Right, got it. Thanks, Sherry.”
Chapter Nine
I parked on the street and walked up to the police station. The white walls and green pyramid roof seemed to breathe authority and warning to anyone
“Fine, detective. How are you?”
I smiled at Jake and Julie to assure them.
“Good, thank you. I was wondering if you had any time to come down to the station this afternoon.”
What in the world?
“Hold on, let me check.” I looked at my schedule. “Sure, but may I ask what this is about?”
“Of course. We think you might have some information we need to clear up some points in an ongoing investigation.”
“Can I ask about what you are investigating?”
“I would rather not say over the phone. We prefer to handle this sort of thing at the station because officially we have to record our conversation. Typical police procedure. I’m sure you understand.”
I paused. “Sure, just let me know the time and place.”
“Say, one o’clock at the main building downtown?”
“Sounds good.”
“Great, see you then. Thank you very much, Pastor Schaeffer.”
“No problem, detective, talk to you soon.”
I hung up the phone and turned back to Jake and Julie. “Now, where were we?”
“Are you sure you want to go on?” Julie asked.
“Yeah, it’s no big deal. They just need some advice on some things.”
Jake butted in. “So, you were insulting me.”
I held up my hands. “Not insulting you, Jake. I’m just pointing out that since we started a few weeks ago, you’ve resisted any notion that you bear some of the responsibilities for the condition of this marriage. I’ve tried to be tactful, but that wasn’t working.”
“Seems to me you’re being a pansy.”
I gripped the handles on my chair. “I think we are done for the day. Think over what I said.”
I did the obligatory end-of-session prayer, following the standard Protestant formula that gives the irony to our hatred of written prayers. “Dear Lord, we know we are broken people, and we confess our brokenness. O Lord, help us to admit our sin and need for You. Show us in Your word how to relate to one another. We ask this in Your Son’s name, Amen.”
Jake and Julie left the office as Jake took the time to give me, what he probably thought, was an intimidating glare. I’d seen it a million times, guys like him, heavily into compensation when their manhood got challenged in any way. I figured he would just go out and buy a bigger truck or something.
I sat back in my chair to think about the phone call from Detective Brown. What in the world was that about? I had enough to deal with right now. Maybe it was the parking ticket I got a few days ago. No, I had another week to pay that. Maybe they needed some sort of theological piece of information? If that was the case, why did they call me? I was an assistant pastor at a fairly small church, not really what you would call consulting material. I always pictured that kind of role to be reserved for pastors of mega-churches or respected scholars.
I worked hard to finish my tasks for the day so I could be out of the office by noon. There wasn’t much to do except plan the worship service, write a few emails, and make an outline for Sunday school.
As I made my way out the door, I stopped by Sherry’s desk. “Sherry, would you please send my phone messages by email? I lose paper all the time, and it would really help me keep track.”
She looked at me over her reading glasses. “I don’t like sending email. People might access my private information by email.”
“Sherry, no one can get your information by just sending an email.”
“Not what my friends at the coffee shop say.”
Sherry was a part of a women’s study group that Mike and I had dubbed the “Four Horsewomen of the Apocalypse.” They didn’t really study the Bible. They just sat around and traded conspiracy theories for two hours every Saturday morning.
“Right, got it. Thanks, Sherry.”
Chapter Nine
I parked on the street and walked up to the police station. The white walls and green pyramid roof seemed to breathe authority and warning to anyone
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