Hotline to Murder

truth was the best policy. He said, “I know somebody who attends services here and I was curious.”
    The man came up to him and stuck out a giant hand saying, “I am the Reverend Luther Hodgkins.”
    Tony said, “Tony Schmidt,” failing to match the resonance of the Reverend’s voice. His hand got lost in that of the larger man. He was dark-skinned, with graying hair, and could have played football with Detective Croyden. He was dressed in a colorful Hawaiian shirt.
    “Who is this parishioner of whom you speak?” Reverend Hodgkins asked, or rather rumbled.
    “His name is Nathan…” Tony tried to remember Nathan’s last name.
    “Nathan Watson?”
    “Watson…right. He’s white.”
    “We do not discriminate at the Church of the Risen Lord. What has Nathan told you about the church?”
    “Nothing, actually. He said he had attended an evening service here on Thursday, August 29.”
    Reverend Hodgkins stepped past Tony and opened the outside door, letting in a slanting ray of light from the setting sun, which momentarily blinded him. The Reverend turned around and surveyed Tony, who realized he had let in the sunlight so that he could see him better.
    “Are you with the police?” the Reverend asked.
    “No sir,” Tony said, blinking to regain his eyesight. He stepped back from the doorway so that the sun wasn’t in his face. “Nathan and I, ah, work together. I was interested in finding out more about the church.”
    “Nathan is a faithful member of the Church. However, I’m not surprised that he has not told you anything specific about our beliefs, because we have been ridiculed by nonbelievers in the past. However, if you are serious about wanting to learn the truth, I will be glad to enlighten you. Take a seat.”
    Reverend Hodgkins sat down at the end of the last pew and motioned Tony to sit in the pew across the aisle from him. Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to learn so much about the Church that he be required to sit down to do it, but he was under the spell of the Reverend. He sat.
    “First, I must apologize for the lack of lights,” the Reverend said. “The electric company lists its employees among the nonbelievers. However, we will not be needing electricity or anything else of the material for very long.”
    As soon as Tony sat down, his feeling of tiredness came back to him, and he slumped on the hard, wooden bench. However, the statement of Reverend Hodgkins woke him up with a jolt. The Reverend was looking past him, lost in some sort of reverie. Tony waited for him to continue.
    “All churches seek the truth. Few find the whole truth. Others have tried to pinpoint the Day of Judgment. They have failed, resulting in great embarrassment and financial loss. It is only now, with the advent of powerful computers and the Internet, that I have been able to do what others failed to do.”
    “The Day of Judgment?” Tony had been raised in a Protestant church-going family, but it had been years since he had been inside a church, except for weddings and his grandfather’s funeral.
    “The day when Christ shall return to earth and clasp the faithful to his bosom. The day when the believers shall rise triumphantly into heaven. The day when we will no longer need the worldly goods that keep us fettered. The day when the chains of greed and ambition shall be cast off.”
    The Reverend’s voice grew louder as he talked, filling the small church auditorium. He was no longer seeing or speaking to Tony. He went on in the same vein, while Tony wondered whether he was going to preach a whole sermon. He apparently came back to reality, because he stopped after a couple of minutes.
    Tony said, “Reverend, when is this Day of Judgment?”
    Reverend Hodgkins looked at him. When he spoke, it was back in his normal voice, which was loud enough. “It is for the believers to know when the great day will occur. Our parishioners will be ready. Ready to be swept up to glory.”
    “In other words, I have to join your Church in order to receive this information?”
    “In one word—yes.”
    Tony remembered hearing stories about people who thought they had pinpointed the Day of Judgment. “So all your followers are selling or giving away all their possessions and meeting on a hilltop on this glorious day?”
    Reverend Hodgkins fixed Tony with a disconcerting stare. Perhaps a suspicious stare. He stood up. Tony stood up. The Reverend walked to the entrance and said, “Brother, I have things to do, and I’m