Rev. Smith seems to know just how thin his mystery plot is in Rev. Randollph's third case; why else would he give a good half of the book to Randollph's controversial decision not to hire a certain black minister-in-training (because he's unsuitable, not because he's black)? This social dilemma is a lot more intriguing than the murder puzzle: who's trying to kill super-evangelist Prince Hartman, but keeps killing Hartman's aides ""by mistake"" (poison candy, poison coke)? Any mildly sophisticated mystery reader will immediately guess that Hartman isn't the intended victim--the oldest of gimmicks. Still, ex-footballer Randollph is a cheerfully red-blooded antidote to the usual milquetoasty clergyman-sleuths, and even the dull patches are never unpleasant.