“I never thought about it, but these crappy benches are a lot like pews.” Joked the private investigator as he slid into booth.
The CK’s coffee shop was deserted at this hour, exactly how the man across from him wanted it.
“Modern churches don’t have pews. They’re too hard to move. Worship isn’t just confined to ritual, reading and homily any more, you know.”
“I don’t know, reverend.” The investigator slid a CD across the table. “I think you could work out a sermon on not spying on your parishioner.”
The reverend snatched the disc from the table by with the speed and ferocity a starving dog going after a scrap of meat.
“That bad, huh?”
“They’re threatening a coup, all because of some nonsense about us giving money to a church that supports queers and baby killers.”
“We donate millions a year, I can’t track every cent of it.” The reverend grumbled.
“Course not. And here all I thought you had to do was teach people to love each other. I never knew that could get so…complicated.” The P.I. got up to leave. “I’ll send my bill to your house. Avoid more of them that way.”
In Memphis, churches are huge, both economically and politically. Whole neighborhoods are shaped around them, interstate exists are built for them, and political dynasties rely upon them. With all that power and money, it’s no wonder that things can some times get a little heated and contentious, even litigious, between the congregation and the clergy.