Life to Life: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective Read Online Free Page B

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    There are scoundrels in religion. Why not
admit that, expose them when we discover them, and go on with the
quest?
    There are errors in
religion. Why not admit it, correct them when we find them, and go
on with the quest?
    But see, the problem—the
real problem—is that none of us are gods or angels yet. W e are human. Therefore we all possess to some degree every
aspect of the human inheritance. And that estate includes
arrogance as well as humility, greed as well as charity, fear as
well as love, and all the other opposites of human personality. A
good man can be moved to do an evil thing; an evil man can be moved
to do a good thing.
    Francois said that
religion is money. That is true. But it is also good works,
inspired acts, noble aspirations, and blind faith that man is more
than a common animal.
    With that in the record,
let's go on now to consider this "religion industry." How big is
it? It's big. The
annual take of the combined churches of North America alone greatly
exceeds the national income of most of the world's nations. In the
United States, this runs close to thirty billion dollars every year. That
figure does not include the haul of radio and television preachers
or any of the itinerant evangelists, storefront groups or
street-corner prophets. It does not include the activities of
organizations such as the Hare Krishnas, the ashrams, the horde of
gurus like Maharaj Ji and Rajneesh, outfits like Scientology, or
any of the New Age groups. No one I have run across would venture a
guess as to how much money accrues to these others. I will so
venture, and I'd put it as roughly equal to that of the
traditional churches. So we could be talking sixty billion dollars
a year in this country alone. That is a lot of bread cast upon the
waters of man's faith in something larger than himself.
    So much bread, in fact, that it sometimes
creates a feeding frenzy among those waiting in the stream.
    Is religion money? Of course it is. And
money is like blood in the stream of life, crazing the sharks who
patrol the eddies of the stream.
    Is Francois a shark? Of
course he is.
    So what is Reverend Annie? Only time—and
enough blood—would tell.
    "She's thirty-five years old, born in Azusa,
graduated from Hollywood High seventeen years ago, married a
classmate two weeks later, left him two weeks after that; he died
by suicide while her petition for annulment was pending; let's
see... worked in a fast-food restaurant, later as a cocktail
waitress, married again at twenty-one; this one died of a heart
attack in the third year...ummm...a gap here of several
years...pick her up again at twenty-eight with her third marriage;
that one died in a fiery freeway crash almost exactly a year
later... identification by dental charts...she's at Pomona Valley
College, psychology; short try at nursing school, Mount Sac; then
to UCLA, more psychology, no degree...another short run at Science
of Mind Institute, did not complete...ummm...okay, here it is,
married the last victim four years ago, and she's in her present
name now; guy was a cinematographer, guess he did okay before he
married her; uh, slipped in the bathtub, says here... died without
regaining consciousness...three months in coma...declared
brain-dead, and disconnected from life support at spouse's
request..
    "When was this?"
    "Fifteen months ago."
    "Uh huh. And she chartered
the church—?"
    "Four months later."
    "I see."
    Actually I saw nothing whatever. I'd taken a
chance on finding David Carver still at work at such an hour,
dropped in on him, found him very hard at work and totally
immersed in the enigma of Reverend Annie. Seems that he was
putting a lot of his own time into this. There was no case on
Annie. The cases were...
    "Maybelle Flossie Turner,
age seventy-two, widow, died of asphyxiation, gas leak, in her
small apartment on March 14th. Her entire estate, valued at
$22,832, went to Church of Light. Ann Farrel is
executor."
    "Eight weeks ago."
    "Right. Then there