“You’re trespassing on official church business, Tom.”

“The lobby’s open to the public, Arthur,” I said.

Arthur ducked his head, his voice sinking to a tight, condescending whisper.

“The board voted unanimously on Friday.

You have no standing, no pulpit, and no rectory key.

If you make a scene in this bank, I’ll have the branch manager call the town marshal.”

“I’m not here to make a scene,” I said.

I flipped open the brass latches on my briefcase, took out a folded white document with a blue court stamp, and stepped right into his path.