The Blood We Spill: Suspense with a Dash of Humor (A Letty Whittaker 12 Step Mystery Book 4)

by Donna White Glaser

“Does someone walk Domino, then?”

  “He runs at night,” Justus said with an evil grin. “So don’t go wandering around after dark without an escort. Of course, you could always call me…”

  “Right,” I said. And who would protect me from my escort? I cleared my throat and hurried on. “Um, what am I supposed to do exactly?”

  “Feed them twice a day. Baara takes care of the kennel mess.” His lips tipped up as relief flooded my face.

  “I’m lucky Maliah didn’t assign that particular chore to me as well,” I said.

  “She probably wanted to. She gets worried when pretty women join up.”

  “Why should she care? She’s gorgeous.” I spoke quickly to cover my blush, but he wasn’t fooled.

  He leaned against the kennel. Then smiled and bit his lower lip. “She’s not as pretty as you,” he said.

  Without warning, Eli rounded the corner of the barn. I jumped as if I had been goosed. He eyed the two of us, his face a careful blank. Justus stiffened, and a subliminal tension hummed between the two men.

  “Filling her in?” Eli asked without taking his eyes off Justus.

  I felt like a post.

  “Just doing what I’m told,” Justus said. “Being a good soldier.” Straightening up, he tossed another smile, laced with impudence, at me. “I’ll see you later,” he said to me. Brushing past Eli, he walked away.

  “What was that all about?” I asked.

  For an answer, I got squinty eyes, a headshake, and a sigh. The trifecta expression of an exasperated male.

  “What?”

  He merely said, “Maliah won’t be able to finish your orientation. Father sent me instead.”

  “You’re going to instruct me?”

  Eli’s eyes dropped and skimmed my body in a visual caress. That slow, heated smile I hadn’t seen in a while reappeared. His eyes, dilated, came back to meet mine. My girl-parts twitched and woke up from their enchanted sleep.

  Not wanting our first coupling to be fast and dirty in back of the dog ken… Well, wait a minute…

  No. Although the thought held certain attractions, the smell of dog poop ruined it.

  “I… um… I’ve got the handbook. What else do I need to know?”

  Eli took a deep breath. “Well, you might want to know that the cops are investigating Enoch’s disappearance before you go sneaking behind the barn with the church Romeo.”

  “Really? How come?”

  “I don’t know all the details. Apparently, something was off about his hotel room in Vegas. Maliah said they were asking questions about how he traveled there. Car? Plane? Did her credit cards show any purchases? Of course, she doesn’t have credit cards, and she claims Enoch didn’t either. Father forbids them.”

  “What do they mean by ‘off?’” I said.

  “Like I said, I don’t know details, but they’re homicide detectives. They’re coming back tomorrow to do interviews.”

  “You got an alibi?”

  More squinty eyes.

  “Maybe they’re just getting background or something,” I said. “Why would they think it had anything to do with the Elect? There has got to be a few murders every day in Vegas.”

  “From what I can tell, it was the way he was killed that made it look personal. And before you ask, they didn’t give details. But we called Cozbi to see what she can find out.”

  “Why Cozbi?”

  “She’s an out-worker. A police dispatcher, so I’m not even sure if she can come up with anything. But in the meantime, you need to be careful. Let Beth know, if you can. I’m sure it’s going to spread like wildfire soon enough anyway.”

  “Does this have anything to do with Maggie?”

  “Not that I can tell. Enoch had a lot of women panting after him, but I haven’t heard that he was involved with Maggie. In fact, I can’t find anything about Maggie, except that she’s still with the Elect. I’ve seen her twice, here at the cafeteria and once talking to Father, but I wasn’t able to talk to her. Haven’t seen her since.”

  “But how can someone be so elusive in this place?”

  “Megiddo may not be the only compound. Father has hinted that he has other properties. Besides the commercial ones, I mean. I haven’t been able to find out where. One of the members is a real estate agent, so I’m trying to see if I can pick up anything from her. See if you can get assigned to the office.”

  “So far, I’ve only been assigned the dogs and waitressing.”

  He finally grinned. “Little bit of a come down?”

  I shook my head. “Not a problem. I love dogs and always liked waiting tables.”

  “You’re so versatile.”

  With that, he pulled me close and bent in for a kiss.

  The kitchen was deserted when I went back. I missed lunch. Wrestling with temptation for all of five seconds, I raided the pantry searching for sugary, high-fat, high-carb goodies and came up empty and irritated. I finally settled for an apple and headed back to my room.

  After spending the afternoon listening to my tummy rumble, reading the Elect manual, and making up lies to put in my confession journal, I made sure I was the first one through the door for supper. I wasn’t the only one eager to get to the dining hall.

  In contrast to this morning, the mood was somber. All speculation was adamantly squelched, however, as Moses and several of the higher-ranked males patrolled the tables. They informed us that the Peace lectures in town were canceled but that there would be a community-wide service at Megiddo in its place. Mandatory attendance. Even Maliah’s presence was required, though she had placed herself in seclusion. Rumor had it that she was laying around in bed, reading. Grief didn’t seem to be affecting her appetite any, judging from the few scraps left on the plate Jala had sent up to her room. In order to hang around the hall, I volunteered to wash dishes. I had hoped to be able to talk more freely in the back, but Moses stationed Gabriel, Rachel’s husband, in the kitchen.

  Foiled again.

  The industrial dishwasher was in the far back of the kitchen, and it was too noisy to hear over the rinse and wash cycles, anyway. Sweaty, dirty work too, but I looked helpful and I was able to scan the front whenever I went to get the bus pans. I learned long ago in A.A. that the way to get at the heart of any organization was to volunteer for the scut work.

  After cleanup, I followed a group up the road past the barn to the temple. I hadn’t seen the building yet and was curious what, if anything, it would reveal about the nature of the Elect.

  Philadelphia House, although most just called it ‘the temple,’ was built along clean, simple lines. There were surprisingly few religious symbols—no crosses, no stained glass and, of course, no Bibles. A plain wooden podium sat up on the raised dais. Behind it, stood an altar draped in dark purple silk. Seven floor-length candle holders formed a half circle around the back of the dais.

  Baara moved from holder to holder, replacing burnt candles with fresh white ones. She came and sat next to me.

  “Aren’t you going to light them?” I asked.

  “Not yet,” she said. “Not till Father is ready. He put me in charge of preparing the temple.” She spoke with a childlike pride.

  “Father must trust you very much to give you these responsibilities.”

  “He trusts me with important things. Not like some people.” She frowned at Rachel, her good mood flickering. She brightened up when Martha joined us.

  “You have a high standing, don’t you?” I asked.

  Baara’s smile shone out again. “Right now I’m third, but if Elijah seeks a wife, I’ll go back to fourth. Unless somehow they let Maliah keep her standing. It’s really not fair if she does.”

  “Can you tell me what order the men are ranked? Except for Abraham, I’m still confused.”

  “Who could blame you?” Martha said. “Like Baara, none of us are sure of what’s going to happen. I’ll try to fill you in, though.”

  “Okay, Martha, but you’ll have to stop when I get the signal to ligh
t the candles,” Baara said.

  Before beginning, Martha checked to see who might be in hearing range. She must have felt safe, because she continued.

  “Enoch had been with Father for ages. Way before anyone else. He was ranked second, making Maliah second in standing, but since Father takes no wife, it’s essentially the highest position for an Elect woman. Believe me, she knows it too. Then came Moses and Cozbi. Casper and Baara, then Gabriel and Abigail, Dathan and Rachel, Mark and Martha, and finally Adlai and Talitha.”

  “Casper is smart. He’s the treasurer,” Baara said.

  It occurred to me that nerdy, bookish Casper and Baara made a strange married couple.

  “When Enoch left,” Martha continued, “Moses moved to second, but then Elijah came. It looks like Elijah will be ranked third, after Moses. There were some questions about that when he first came. It’s still confusing for us women too, because Elijah hasn’t sought a wife yet. And no one knows what to do with Maliah. Is she still second in standing or does she lose it altogether? And Cozbi’s standing depends on wherever Moses is ranked. Cozbi is letting it play out, but Maliah is very ambitious.”

  “If she’s sought by Elijah, she may only have to drop to third,” Baara said.

  Eli? I tensed.

  “Don’t forget,” Martha replied. “It’s the man who seeks, not the woman. Elijah is pretty hard to read. I haven’t seen him make any—”

  “But Father confirms the man’s choice,” Baara interjected. “And sometimes they don’t even recognize who the Spirit is leading them to, so Father has to pray for guidance and tell them.”

  Martha made a sour face. “He’s certainly led some of the men to some unusual choices. I can’t imagine Elijah would truly be—”

  “Shh. It’s them,” Baara warned us in a whisper.

  Eli escorted Maliah, dressed in black, down the center aisle. Her arm was tucked in his, her body angled into his as if she needed to be supported in her grief. It looked to me like she was resting her boob on his arm. Beth, sitting across the aisle, caught my eye and flashed an eye roll that spoke volumes. Eli led the new widow to a place of honor in the front row. As he moved to leave, she grasped his arm, pulling him down to whisper in his ear. Eli nodded to the bitch, then pulled back and exited through a side door to the left of the dais. He hadn’t even looked for me.

  A trumpet blasted outside the windows, scaring the hell out of me. Baara leapt up and began lighting the candles while the rest of the community settled in their seats. Most of them carried their confession journals.

  Scanning the crowd, I recognized Cheryl sitting next to Naomi, the woman who had befriended her at the lecture. Cheryl looked more relaxed than I had ever seen her. Her acne was clearing up too. I waved, but her gaze was fixed on someone in the front and she didn’t notice me. Following her gaze, I discovered Justus staring with equal intensity… at me. When he caught me looking, he smiled as seductively as a man in church can smile. Which happened to be a lot. Several women caught the exchange, whispering and nudging each other. Face burning, I turned away and found myself staring directly at Maggie.

  She was four rows back on the left, seated in a small group of people I had never seen before. In spite of the packed church, the space around them was empty, as if an invisible barrier had been erected between them and the rest of the community. Maggie didn’t look good. None of them did, in fact. Her face was pale and wan, skin mottled with acne or rosacea, with deep lines. She looked ten years older than the picture Reggie had thrust at me back in Beth’s kitchen. I couldn’t stare at her without it being obvious, but my curiosity raged.

  Then the side door opened, and everyone’s attention swung to it.

  A line of men carrying seven-foot-high staffs and wearing white linen robes with cowl hoods walked in, taking positions near each of the candle stands. Seven men. A memory stirred at the sight, something in Revelation. Eli and Moses were last, barely reaching their spots before another trumpet blast announced Father’s presence. He entered wearing a shimmering golden robe, no hood, looking quite a bit like a portly Oscar statuette. The congregation bowed their heads in ceremonial greeting.

  “Maranatha, children.”

  “Maranatha, Father.”

  “Are you watching, my children?”

  “We wait on the Lord.”

  “Will you be counted worthy?”

  “We pray to the Lord.”

  “The book of Luke tells us that destruction is near. The time of the Lord will pit ‘nation against nation.’ There will be great earthquakes and famines, fearful sights. But before all these things—before all these things, my children—‘they will lay their hands on you and persecute you, delivering you up to the prisons.’ Luke 21:11-13. These are times of trial, of tribulation. And there is persecution!” Father’s voice thundered through the temple.

  A sigh rose from the crowd. Someone began weeping.

  “We have learned today of a great loss.” Father paused to look at Maliah. “A loss of a dedicated apostle, a soldier of Christ, a man who had committed his life and soul to The Way.”

  He held his hand up to forestall the crowd’s response. “But this was not an honorable death. This loss did not result from waging war against the enemy. No. This soldier deserted his army. He left his brethren behind and sought refuge among sinners of the worst kind. No matter where he is now, and he could be anywhere, our greatest loss occurred when that soldier left The Way. He left us to follow the world and to partake of the many sins that will give him a mere moment of pleasure and an eternity of shame and despair. In fact, it would be better if that soldier really was dead. He would be better off, and so would the rest of us who misguidedly cared for him.”

  Maliah bowed her head as if in shame.

  “We are told in First Corinthians 15:51-52 that ‘in a twinkling of an eye,’ we will be raptured. We will be taken up. But children, beware. It can happen in reverse too. It can happen to you.” Abraham pointed accusingly to various points in the audience. Moans rose from the people who sat near. “In a twinkling of an eye, you can be lost from The Way. Lost for eternity. All the dedication, all the faith, all the hope—gone. Shattered forever when a man casts his lot with the world. Choosing the world means rejecting The Way.

  “We live in a world that embraces shades of gray. It teaches a shifting ethical code. They call it situational morality. It’s easier! It makes people feel better… for the moment. And they call this morality kindness,” Father sneered. “The only sin nowadays is to call something a sin. To call someone a sinner. They say that’s unkind. But is it kind to let our brothers and sisters be damned to eternal fire?”

  A chorus of “no” ran through the church.

  “Is it kind to let our neighbors embrace a dead religion? There is coming a day, very soon, where the goats will be separated from the sheep and those who have stood firm, who have patiently endured, will receive the Crown of Righteousness promised us in Second Timothy.

  “This is not the easy way. The easy way is the way of the world, of infidels. The Crown of Life will not belong to them either. The book of Revelation tells us that only those ‘who are faithful unto death’ will receive that crown.

  “This is a time of testing. Right here. Right now. The world has claimed one of our brethren. Satan has gained a soul, and he delights in our loss. Make no mistake—he will be waiting and watching to see who he can feast on next.

  “We are being tested. We are being persecuted. Our beliefs, our faith in The Way—all will be questioned by Satan’s minions. They will mock us. They will cause us to doubt each other, to doubt The Way. They will turn brother against brother, sister against sister, wife against husband. They will lie, use trickery, cheat, and steal in their efforts to destroy our community, simply because of what we stand for. Make no mistake. They are not waiting on the Lord. They are not watching and praying for His return. By rejecting The Way, they leave themselves ripe for Satan. Just as our former brother did. Closed to The Way mean
s open to Satan.

  “Wrap your minds around this truth. Close your eyes,” Father commanded. “Open your mind.”

  Throughout the church, people closed their eyes, faces turned heavenward, palms resting on knees or laps.

  “Close your eyes, open your mind,” Father continued in a hypnotic chant. “Open to The Way, closed to the world. Open to The Way, closed to the world. This is your meditation. Join me now.”

  The church began to chant, bodies swaying, many with tears slipping past closed lids. Next to me, Baara’s breathing altered. Panting rapidly, she began chanting faster and louder. Swaying. Her journal fell to the floor with a thump.

  Excitement rose to fever pitch. All around, moans and sharp staccato cries of anguish broke out in counterpoint to the steady rhythm of the chant. Several people, including Baara, broke the chant, speaking in tongues. Long ululations of raw emotion erupted, hot and fluid—the secret language of the Spirit reaching for heaven.

  Next to me, Baara’s swaying became erratic. She was sweating heavily, face pale, and when I touched her shoulder, she shook so badly she vibrated and began to cry wildly. Big whooping sobs—like a child scaring herself with her lack of control.

  Rachel moved up on the other side, and together we half led, half carried Baara outside. Martha and Beth joined us as we propped her on the stairs. I knelt in front of the hyperventilating woman and, wishing I had a paper bag, forced her trembling hands together and had her breathe into the cupped palms. Rachel sat next to her, rubbing her back.

  After several minutes, Baara started to breathe more normally, color returning to her face. Inside, the hysteria leveled off. We’d been sitting on the cold steps for twenty minutes before members began leaving the temple. Most walked by us, but a few stopped to check on Baara and to let us know we’d missed the announcement for a corporate fast. Starting immediately, no food allowed and we were supposed to meditate three times a day on the mantra Father had given us.

  Oh, joy.

  Priella was another who stopped, although she didn’t comment on the fast. Standing next to Beth, shivering from the chill, she asked Baara if everything was okay. Just then, Maliah swept out of the door, Eli in tow, and came face to face with Priella. Both women froze, eyes locked in silent battle. Maliah’s grip on Eli’s arm pinched. I saw him grimace, peeling her fingers up. She never shifted her gaze from the younger woman. Priella broke first, blushing and casting her gaze down.