Heretics book 3 - The Apocryphile Press

146 :: JOHN R. MABRY
peck, settling in next to him. “Guys, Bishop Tom just
called.”
“Ah, shit,” said Dylan. “Ah was hopin’ that if we just
ignored that whole business it would just go away.”
“Not happening,” Susan said. “In fact, it’s worse. A whole
file full of damning materials just landed in the Presiding
Bishop’s hands today.”
“How damning could they be?” asked Terry. “We’ve got
nothing to hide.”
“From liberal Berkeleyites, maybe,” Richard agreed. “But
from assholes like Hammet? I can think of a lot of things
about what we do I wouldn’t want him and half of the
Christians in Texas to know about.”
“Like what?” asked Dylan, licking the ends of a joint.
Richard stared at him hard.
“What? What did I say?” Dylan implored.
“No smoking at the dinner table,” Brian grabbed the joint
out of Dylan’s hand and threw it on the shelf behind the
portly priest’s head. “Jesus, I thought I had you trained.”
“Who sent it, that’s what I want to know,” Richard said,
reaching for the bread.
“You’ll be so proud of Tom,” Susan said. “Because he
gave us a name and address on that.”
“Go, Tom!” Terry shouted, and turned to Dylan for a
high-five.
“Turns out it was sent by a private detective agency here
in San Francisco.”
Kat added pepper to her soup. “So your enemies are
local,” she said. “Who would have it in for you?”
“Try anyone we’ve stopped in the past fifteen years,”
Dylan said, coming out of his pout.
“I’ll keep working on it,” Susan said. “But how about you
guys? What kind of luck did you have?” Susan asked.
Richard repeated the Cliffs Notes version for the benefit of
Susan and Brian.