Everybody Loved Roger Harden

by Cecil Murphey

  “Stefan is dead,” I said to myself.

  I was so caught up in the shock of the news that I didn’t notice when someone walked past me to the counter, which was perhaps fifteen feet away. Only when I heard his voice did I look up.

  “I’d like a room, please.”

  “I suppose you want room 623,” Craig, the clerk, said.

  “Sure, that’s fine.” His back was to me, but I would have recognized his voice anywhere. Sometimes I hear it in my sleep.

  “Everybody wants 623,” the clerk said. “And I can’t let you have that one.”

  He chuckled. “Okay, give me something else.”

  Impulsively I got up and walked toward him. “Burton!”

  He turned around and smiled. I hate that smile—it melts me every time. And those dark curls ought to be illegal on a man.

  “Julie West!” he called out. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see someone, but he’s not in,” I said.

  “He’s not in because he’s dead,” the clerk said. “Murdered.”

  “What’s going on?” Burton looked from me to the clerk.

  “That’s why you can’t have room 623,” Craig said. “The police won’t let me give it to anyone. With blood stains all over the carpet and the room all torn up, I have no idea why anyone would want it anyway.”

  Burton moved forward and hugged me. It was a nice, friendly, brotherly kind of embrace. “Nice to see you again, Julie.”

  I hated that I had worn my lime green four-inch heels today. I’m five ten in bare feet and about half an inch taller than Burton anyway. Now I towered above him. But my colors were right. My hair is a shade of red someone called titian, after the painter, and it sounded exotic to me, so I tell everyone that’s my color. Red is so, well, mundane. I wore a lime green suit with short sleeves. It wasn’t formfitting, but I felt it made the best of my assets. Any shade of green seems to flatter me the most. For jewelry I wore only a copper-and-green malachite bracelet that complemented my complexion and my light brown eyes. I may not have looked chic, but it was my best outfit.

  “She wanted to see Mr. Lauber,” Craig said. “But then, everyone either wants to see him or wants his room. If you ask me, this is a strange place today.”

  I stared at the unprofessional clerk. He held a pen in his right hand, but it was shaking. “This has rattled you, hasn’t it?” I asked.

  “Rattled? That’s all I can think about. My nerves are shot. Absolutely shot. I know I won’t sleep tonight.” He wasn’t loud, but his voice had hit the higher registers, signaling that he was near hysteria. “It’s bad enough to be a clerk in an inn where someone was murdered, but everyone keeps asking for that room—his room—for room 623. What kind of ghoulish people come here?”

  Burton touched the man’s hand gently and said, “You have had a bad time of this. I’m sorry.” That was Burton in action. I’ve told him twenty times he ought to be a therapist instead of a pastor, but he has never listened to my advice. Burton’s soothing voice worked its magic. “Can you take a few days’ vacation or—”

  The clerk snorted. “And miss all this action? Nothing like this has ever happened before.” He spoke in a normal range again.

  “But you are upset,” I said. “Don’t you think it would help if you took at least a day off?”

  “My nerves are shot,” he said, “but I’ll . . . well, I’ll carry on.”

  Burton continued to speak softly to the clerk, and I nodded at everything he said. That Burton is a natural at getting people to open up to him. Within two minutes the poor man told Burton all his other problems. He said something about his mother, who was in the early stages of senility, and added that he was an only child. He had dated a woman for nine years, and she’d finally called it off. “But as long as I had to take care of Mother, I couldn’t have a wife too, could I?”

  I thought it would be more discreet if I moved away, so I went back to the sofa and sat down. I couldn’t hear the rest, but within several minutes the man smiled. He grabbed Burton’s hand and shook it vigorously.

  Burton then came over to the sofa, sat on the other end, and turned toward me. “It’s such a surprise to see you.”

  “A good surprise? Or a shock?” I love to say things like that.

  “Good. Always it’s good to see you.”

  “I suppose you want to know why I stopped attending your church.”

  “Not unless you want to tell me,” he said. “But I have missed you. You came five Sundays and attended three of the new believers’ meetings.”

  “You keep score on everyone?”

  He grinned, and those perfect, movie-star teeth gleamed. “Sorry. I meant only that I was aware of your not being there. That’s all.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked. “Okay, I changed the subject, but—”

  “I’m here for a private retreat.”

  “A private retreat? I don’t get it. It sounds like something a priest or a monk would do.” As I said, I love being a smart-mouth. I knew differently, but it also kept him talking to me.

  “It’s something I do at least once a year. Ben and Marcia Cartledge, the couple who own this place, are wonderful Christians, and they’re members of an inner-city congregation. They offer free facilities for ministers of any denomination who need to spend a few days alone.”

  “Oh,” I said. That’s always an appropriate response when I don’t know what to say.

  “Occasionally I need to put my life on hold while I rethink my priorities,” he said simply. “It’s nice—really it is—to see you again.”

  “You’ve already said that. So it means we must be near the end of things to talk about.”

  “Or maybe we just need to get beyond the awkward stage,” he said. “I’m absolutely surprised to run into you here.”

  “Remember when we met?” I asked. “That involved a murder, too—Roger Harden.”

  He aimed that powerful smile at me before he said, “You know, I just thought of the same thing.”

  Burton and I had been involved in solving the murder of Roger Harden at Palm Island off the coast. It was because of our meeting that I started to attend his church. I never told him, of course, but I was more fascinated by him than any of the things he said. He was probably a fine preacher. That hadn’t been the reason I attended.

  Just then an attractive woman in her early thirties brushed past us and stopped at the desk. “I’d like a room,” she said. “I’d like room 623, please.”

  Craig glanced at us, shrugged, and rolled his eyes as if to ask, “See what I mean?”

  The Inspired Living Devotional Series

  Devotions for Couples

  In Devotions for Couples the author uses his own marriage of over five decades to demonstrate how keeping love alive is possible, maintainable and so enriching—with God’s help. In this six-week devotional you’ll discover how to emulate Christ’s example of unconditional love in your own relationship.

  Excerpt

  Week 1, Day 1

  When Shirley and I were dating, her mother made a statement that went something like this: “Some married people are kinder to their friends than they are to each other.” Over the years I’ve thought about those words often and determined it wouldn’t apply to us.

  Sometimes because we love each other, we tend to take the other for granted. We become more considerate of new relationships because we want to establish them. We already have a loving relationship with our lover and therefore do not show concern.

  I’ve noticed that when many couples are in the dating stage, they’re courteous and helpful. I’ve seen the dashing young fellow carefully open doors for the light of his life. I’ve often seen those same couples a year after their marriage. He gets out of the car and lets her get out by herself.

  One of the things Shirley and I decided when we were dating was that I would continue opening doors for her all through our married life. I also said, “If I forget, I expect you to remind me.”
I’m still opening doors for Shirley because it’s my way of saying I care about her and want to do little things for her.

  True lovers constantly find ways to show they appreciate each other and to affirm the relationship they have.

  Devotions for Dieters

  Losing weight is a struggle. We may feel all alone in our quest to shed those pounds. Devotions for Dieters reminds us that support is never far away and that Jesus cherishes each of us no matter what the number on the scale.

  Excerpt

  Week 1, Day 1

  “I never eat breakfast,” Alice said, as though that proved a badge of commendation. She prided herself on avoiding breakfast and eating nothing until lunch. She advised the rest of us to cut down to two meals a day or, even better, just one. I might have listened more seriously, but Alice weighs nearly 300 pounds.

  Her theory sounded all right: don’t get the appetite going in the morning and you will keep it under control all day. It sounds good, but it doesn’t work.

  Devotions for Runners

  In the years since the author began running, he has discovered that his commitment to the sport as well as such setbacks as “hitting the wall” all share correlations with his own Christ-centered life. And in Devotions for Runners he wants to share those revelations with you.

  Excerpt

  Week 1, Day 1

  Dr. Morgan entered the room carrying a manila folder under his arm. He laid the folder on the table and read the paper clipped to the top. He glanced up at me and smiled. “Basically, you’re in pretty good shape.” Then he paused.

  “But?”

  “Your blood pressure’s on the high side of the normal range,” he said. “Not an immediate concern—”

  “But could be a problem in the future?”

  He nodded. “For right now we’ll watch it and see what happens.”

  As I left the doctor’s office and drove home, I thought of the prognosis. Both my parents, as well as my brothers and sisters, already fight with high blood pressure. I probably ought to do something about it, I said to myself.

  A few days later in my devotional time I came across the Apostle Paul’s words in 1 Corinthians. Those words, along with reading I had been doing on high blood pressure and physical fitness, convinced me that I not only needed to do something—I would.

  Revitalize Your Prayer Life: An Inspired Living Series Companion

  In Revitalize Your Prayer Life, veteran author Cecil Murphey invites you on a quest to discover the nature, character, and attributes of God and offers thought-provoking lessons and insights that will draw you nearer to Him. With honesty and transparency, Murphey allows you an insider’s view of his struggles with prayer and shows how he discovered the invigorating joy of praying anywhere, anytime.

  Excerpt

  When I was in grade school, our class visited the planetarium. In a darkened room, we stared upward at the ceiling. Tiny sparks of light twinkled and the objects slowly rotated. “This is the heavens,” the guide’s voice said. “These are stars and planets millions and millions of miles away.”

  He went on to explain about light years and the immense vastness of space. I don’t know how much I understood, but I did grasp that planet Earth was a tiny place compared to the universe. And if the earth itself was tiny, what did that say about me?

  It was an awesome moment. I distinctly remember thinking, I’m not even as big as a mosquito, which was the smallest living creature I could think of. I’m sure I didn’t know the word “awe,” but that’s the feeling that crept over me.

  When we try to comprehend the immensity of our world, our galaxy, or even the universe, and realize that God brought all of it into existence with a mere “Let there be ...,” it fills us with awe.

  Yet the Bible assures us that, in the midst of all that vastness, God sees each of us individually. What an awesome God. And that God loves me.

  About the Author

  New York Times best-selling author Cecil (Cec) Murphey has written or co-written more than 135 books, including the best sellers 90 Minutes in Heaven (with Don Piper) and Gifted Hands: The Ben Carson Story (with Dr. Ben Carson). His books have sold in the millions and have brought hope and encouragement to countless people around the world.

  Visit his website at http://www.CecilMurphey.com and follow him on Twitter at http://www.Twitter.com/CecMurphey.

  Copyright Information

  This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2011 by Cecil Murphey. All rights reserved.

  Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERSION®. Copyright 1973, 1978, 1984 Biblica. Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

  eISBN: 978-1-942356-02-8