The intercom on my desk buzzed. “Crawford Banks is here to see you.”

My secretary Kay was back in the office after taking the previous week off. She’d remained tight-lipped upon her return, but from what I gathered the relationship between her and George was strained.

“Send him in. Thank you, Kay.”

I steeled myself. Crawford banks was the head of the vestry, that group of men who took care of church business. I’d always felt that Crawford was not happy with anyone else besides him having the power in the church. He was often a lay reader at services and was usually the loudest voice at church meetings. He was the kind of guy who liked to pick the opposing side of an argument just for the sake of arguing.

More than one encounter with Crawford had sent me searching for verses in the Bible to remind myself why patience is a virtue.

Crawford walked through the door impeccably dressed in a three-piece suit that had been tailored specifically for him. It made me self-conscious of my short sleeve shirt and khakis that I usually wore to work. At least the collar firmly planted me in my position as well as the fact that I sat behind the desk.

“Good afternoon, Crawford to what do I owe this pleasure?”

Without being asked, he sat down in one of the chairs across the desk then kicked one leg over the other in a posture intended to show me how comfortable he was in my office.

“I’m not sure you will describe this visit as a pleasure once I tell you why I’m here.”

This guy hadn’t liked me from the start, and he’s always looking for ways to undermine me. Lately he’s been ramping it up so I couldn’t wait to hear what he was up to now.

“Sounds ominous,” I said, my heart rate increasing slightly.

“We have discovered there are some discrepancies in some of the church accounts.”

“Discrepancies?”

“Yes. There is money that is missing and unaccounted for in the Rector’s fund. We are going to need receipts from all of your purchases and expenditures for the last two years.”

“I see. That shouldn’t be a problem. An inconvenience, but nothing I can’t provide.”

“I believe you have been stealing money from the church and using it for personal gain and I’m going to put a stop to this.”

“That’s ridiculous. I’ve done no such thing. I do have a salary as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about you using the church’s money to fund extravagances on your part that are not endorsed by the parish.”

“Can you be more specific? If I knew what you were looking for it might help me explain any ‘discrepancies’ as you say.”

“I don’t have to give you an explanation,” Crawford snarled.

I eyed him suspiciously. “Interesting. Crawford, I’m not sure what your problem is, but my financial conduct is above reproach. I’ve done nothing to instigate this sort of witch hunt. However, I will be happy to provide you with whatever documents you need. Is there someone who’s handling this investigation as it were?”

“In case you’ve forgotten, I am an attorney so I will be heading up this investigation. And you can rest assured that I will not stop until I have you ousted from this parish and hopefully defrocked.”

The man couldn’t be serious. I wasn’t sure where he was coming up with these trumped up ideas that I was stealing money from the church, but it was crazy. I knew he disliked me, probably wanted a yes-man puppet in my position, but as far as I knew he was the only one. I was the youngest bishop in our diocese and had often been called the pride of the church. Perhaps this favored status was what really chapped his ass.

Taking a deep breath, I got to my feet. “Well, Crawford, I appreciate you stopping by and making your intentions known. See that you send instructions in writing for what information you require, and I will start gathering it. But I’m afraid I have a sermon to prepare and a game to coach later, so if you will excuse me . . .”

Crawford narrowed his beady little eyes at me. “Just so you know,” he said rising from the chair, “this is only the beginning.”

I wanted to ask “Of what?” but I decided not to give him the satisfaction. I wanted him out of my office, so I ignored his remark and told him to have a nice day.

His face reddened and he slammed the door on the way out.

My hands shook slightly and I felt an unusually strong craving for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked in years, but in that moment I would have loved to have felt the sweet calm of nicotine hitting my bloodstream.

Instead I hit the intercom button. “Kay, I need you to come in here when you have a minute. We’ve got a problem.”