Day of Vengeance: Dorothy Martin investigates murder in the cathedral (A Dorothy Martin Mystery) by Jeanne M. Dams Page B

don’t know anything about it, but if there’s a quiet place anywhere, a church ought to be it.’
    ‘Not if there are any lady bishop wannabes in it,’ I thought I heard Lynn mutter.
    The church, thank heaven, was quiet. There were a couple of women going purposefully back and forth on some business or other. A young man in a cassock and dog collar glanced our way for a moment, and then stopped to speak to one of the women. A lingering odour of incense hung in the air, and a statue of the Virgin Mary occupied a niche above a small stand of lighted candles.
    ‘Roman Catholic?’ I whispered to Walter.
    ‘I don’t think so.’ He gestured to a Book of Common Prayer in the pew rack. ‘Anglo-Catholic, probably.’
    ‘I don’t think they’d like me using my mobile, but I must talk to Alan. He and Tom may be waiting for us somewhere in that mob, and they’ll be worried.’ I stood and approached the young priest. ‘Excuse me,’ I said in those stifled tones one tends to use in a place of worship, ‘but my friends and I came in to get away from an unpleasant demonstration a few streets away. Is there a place where I might use my phone without disturbing anyone?’
    ‘Ah, yes,’ he replied in a normal voice. ‘The ladies who want to be bishops. Poor things. They’ve been at it for a few days now, and getting rowdier by the moment. Not exactly the behaviour one would think might tempt the Church to consider their demands. However, yes, certainly you may use your mobile anywhere you like. There is no service scheduled until later this afternoon.’
    Once I reached Alan, he had to find a place quiet enough that he could hear me, and then I had to ask Walter where we were, so he could find us. ‘Alan, it’s really scary out there! I don’t know what we would have done if Walter hadn’t been able to get us away. Where are you?’
    ‘We did what you did, and took refuge in a church – the Abbey. There’s not a lot of peace and quiet, though. Too close to the action. And it may take us a little while to get to you. I’m going to ask a verger if there’s a back way out. Stay put and wait for us.’
    We finally achieved lunch, not at the lovely restaurant Lynn had planned, but at a Pret a Manger in Victoria Place, the shopping centre in Victoria Station. As fast food goes, theirs is really pretty good, and quite a lot healthier than the fat-laden concoctions one finds in other places. And after fighting our way through the crowds, we were all a bit too hot and dishevelled for any posh place. Besides, this place was crowded and noisy, an ideal spot for a private conversation.
    After we’d fetched our food and found a place to sit, the first thing Tom asked was, ‘Did you manage to save your hat, D?’
    ‘I did.’ I held up the slightly battered hatbox. ‘The box suffered a bit, but the hat is fine. I took it off at the first sign of trouble. I’d rather have lost my purse than this!’ I took it out for admiration, and all agreed I could wear it to Royal Ascot the next time I was invited, or, of course, to a Buckingham Palace garden party.
    ‘Or even to church on Sunday, which is somewhat more likely. Now. What do you two know about that fracas in Parliament Square? Did the Abbey people know anything about it?’
    ‘The vergers were quite knowledgeable, as we were far from the first bystanders to seek sanctuary there. The demonstration started on Monday, while the commission was meeting, apparently in the hope that a woman would be nominated for our position, even in advance of the legislation that would permit her appointment.’
    ‘Some hope,’ said Lynn crisply. ‘The mills of God may grind slowly, but they’re greased lightning compared with Parliament.’
    ‘Indeed. At any rate, when the shortlist was announced late on Tuesday, the demonstrators weren’t happy about it, and their numbers grew. Then Brading was killed and the women seemed to believe, using a thought process not entirely clear to