Hotline to Murder

CHAPTER 14

Tony was running on coffee. It had been a long day, with several intense sales calls and a lot of driving. That, coupled with his lack of sleep and the late summer heat, made him feel as if he couldn’t take another step. Or even get out of his car. And getting out of a Porsche was no mean feat.

He was parked in front of the Church of the Risen Lord. He had looked up the address after Nathan had said he was a member, out of curiosity more than anything else, since he had never heard of it. And today, after his last call, he had been in the neighborhood, if you could call being within five miles the neighborhood. He had gotten here with the help of his Thomas Guide. “Here” was somewhere northeast of the Los Angeles Airport.

It wasn’t much of a church. The small building had obviously been used for something else before the Risen Lord had occupied it. It had no steeple or visible cross. No stained-glass windows. It did have a crude sign on the small, weed-infested lawn in front, announcing its name and telling when it had services. There were Thursday evening services at 7 p.m., which tended to support Nathan’s story of where he had been during Joy’s murder, assuming they went on for three hours.

Since he was here, he should do more than stare at the front from his car. Tony opened the car door and laboriously lifted himself up from the seat. It was hot in the open air after the coolness of the air-conditioned car, but evening was coming and with it cooler temperatures. That was something you could always count on in Los Angeles. He shut the door and locked the car, looking around at other cars parked on the street. None were Porsches, but some were new. There was no indication that people feared that their cars would be stolen. And it was still broad daylight.

A small gravel parking lot sat beside the church, with weeds poking through the gravel. The only car in the lot was a Chevrolet that had a few miles on it. Maybe a few hundred thousand miles. Tony walked up the cracked sidewalk to the dilapidated front door. A coat of stain would help it, just as a coat of paint would help the stucco walls of the church.

Tony tried the door; it was unlocked. He opened it and stepped into the gloomy interior. The only light came from several windows along each side wall. He could make out wooden pews and a raised platform at the other end. In addition to a lectern, the platform supported a table with candlesticks and a picture of a man, probably Jesus. It was too dark to tell for sure. Some seats at one side of the platform might be for a choir. A small organ stood near them.

Nobody was in sight. He wasn’t sure he wanted to talk to anybody, anyway. He stood at the back, wondering why Nathan was attracted to this particular church. It didn’t look very substantial. He was about to leave when he heard footsteps resounding from contact with a hard floor, coming from somewhere behind the platform. He hesitated, wondering whether it would look as if he were up to something if he left now.

A man came through a doorway that Tony hadn’t seen before, in the wall behind the platform. He was a big man, and he walked rapidly, with a purpose that gave Tony a moment of trepidation, until he realized that the man hadn’t seen him. He took a step to attract the man’s attention.

The man stopped halfway down the aisle that went between the rows of pews and said, in a deep voice, “How can I help you, brother?”

Tony’s first thought was to wonder whether Shahla would claim that the man should have said, “How may I help you, brother?” He hesitated for an awkward moment and then decided that truth was the best policy. He said, “I know somebody who attends services here and I was curious.”

The man came up to him and stuck out a giant hand saying, “I am the Reverend Luther Hodgkins.”

Tony said, “Tony Schmidt,” failing to match the resonance of the Reverend’s voice. His hand got lost in that of the larger man. He was dark-skinned, with graying hair, and could have played football with Detective Croyden. He was dressed in a colorful Hawaiian shirt.

“Who is this parishioner of whom you speak?” Reverend Hodgkins asked, or rather rumbled.

“His name is Nathan…” Tony tried to remember Nathan’s last name.

“Nathan Watson?”

“Watson…right. He’s white.”

“We do not discriminate at the Church of the Risen Lord. What has Nathan told you about the church?”

“Nothing, actually. He said he had attended an evening service here on Thursday, August 29.”

Reverend Hodgkins stepped past Tony and opened the outside door, letting in a slanting ray of light from the setting sun, which momentarily blinded him. The Reverend turned around and surveyed Tony, who realized he had let in the sunlight so that he could see him better.

“Are you with the police?” the Reverend asked.

“No sir,” Tony said, blinking to regain his eyesight. He stepped back from the doorway so that the sun wasn’t in his face. “Nathan and I, ah, work together. I was interested in finding out more about the church.”

“Nathan is a faithful member of the Church. However, I’m not surprised that he has not told you anything specific about our beliefs, because we have been ridiculed by nonbelievers in the past. However, if you are serious about wanting to learn the truth, I will be glad to enlighten you. Take a seat.”

Reverend Hodgkins sat down at the end of the last pew and motioned Tony to sit in the pew across the aisle from him. Tony wasn’t sure he wanted to learn so much about the Church that he be required to sit down to do it, but he was under the spell of the Reverend. He sat.

“First, I must apologize for the lack of lights,” the Reverend said. “The electric company lists its employees among the nonbelievers. However, we will not be needing electricity or anything else of the material for very long.”

As soon as Tony sat down, his feeling of tiredness came back to him, and he slumped on the hard, wooden bench. However, the statement of Reverend Hodgkins woke him up with a jolt. The Reverend was looking past him, lost in some sort of reverie. Tony waited for him to continue.

“All churches seek the truth. Few find the whole truth. Others have tried to pinpoint the Day of Judgment. They have failed, resulting in great embarrassment and financial loss. It is only now, with the advent of powerful computers and the Internet, that I have been able to do what others failed to do.”

“The Day of Judgment?” Tony had been raised in a Protestant church-going family, but it had been years since he had been inside a church, except for weddings and his grandfather’s funeral.

“The day when Christ shall return to earth and clasp the faithful to his bosom. The day when the believers shall rise triumphantly into heaven. The day when we will no longer need the worldly goods that keep us fettered. The day when the chains of greed and ambition shall be cast off.”

The Reverend’s voice grew louder as he talked, filling the small church auditorium. He was no longer seeing or speaking to Tony. He went on in the same vein, while Tony wondered whether he was going to preach a whole sermon. He apparently came back to reality, because he stopped after a couple of minutes.

Tony said, “Reverend, when is this Day of Judgment?”

Reverend Hodgkins looked at him. When he spoke, it was back in his normal voice, which was loud enough. “It is for the believers to know when the great day will occur. Our parishioners will be ready. Ready to be swept up to glory.”

“In other words, I have to join your Church in order to receive this information?”

“In one word-yes.”

Tony remembered hearing stories about people who thought they had pinpointed the Day of Judgment. “So all your followers are selling or giving away all their possessions and meeting on a hilltop on this glorious day?”

Reverend Hodgkins fixed Tony with a disconcerting stare. Perhaps a suspicious stare. He stood up. Tony stood up. The Reverend walked to the entrance and said, “Brother, I have things to do, and I’m sure you do too. I hope that God goes with you on your journey.”

The interview was over. Tony had enough presence of mind to shake hands with the Reverend as he went out the door and say, “Thank you for a most enlightening conversation. God be with you, Reverend.”

The Reverend stood in the doorway and watched Tony as he climbed into his Porsche. Or perhaps he was looking at the car. There was a gleam in the Reverend’s eye that Tony didn’t think he had seen before in a man of the cloth.