“Yet, the God of the Old Testament and the New Testament are the same God,” Ruby said, smiling and ignoring Mandy’s digression. “How do you justify obeying only one set of rules, especially when they’re at odds?”
“It’s corny,” Barbara said, shrugging. “But I really do ask myself ‘What would Jesus do?’ Not ‘What would Solomon do?’ I may sometimes feel the rage of David, but I only let it loose against persons who truly do evil, who live in it. Being rageful when… oh, somebody cuts you off in traffic or some woman is being snippy about whose daughter is smarter than whose, that’s not being a Christian. Nor is beating your wife.”
“And would that be being a Jew?” Kay asked, dryly. Barb noticed that her accent flattened out slightly. “Since that’s the Old Testament God?”
“I don’t know as much about Judaism as I would like,” Barbara admitted, carefully. “But the Talmud encompasses far more than the books that are found in the Old Testament. And the study of it is thousands of years old, with a great deal of interpretation, as I understand it. I’ve never heard that wife beating is common amongst those of the Faith of Abraham. Is it?”
“Not noticeably,” Kay replied, smiling. “Is this what you usually do, stand around and debate religion?”
“Oh, no,” Barb admitted. “Normally I have to stand around and make nice little comments about how gracefully a friend’s daughter fell on her face during cheerleading practice or trade casserole recipes. I much prefer this. The talk is much more… broadening.”
“You’d better watch that,” Mandy said with a laugh. “You’ll end up questioning all sorts of assumptions.”
“Not fundamental ones,” Barbara said, smiling. “Those are far beyond belief for me. For one thing, I clearly separate the social overlay of humanity from the Truth of the Risen God. I won’t preach, but the power of the Lord Jesus Christ is very real. As you should know, Mandy,” she added with an arched eyebrow.
“This is your first con?” Ruby asked.
“Oh, yes,” Barb said, laughing. “I… well, my husband thinks I’m at a religious retreat. And I was, but one of the ladies at the retreat was coming to the con and she knew I was a… reader of Miz Goldberg’s books, so she suggested I come along. I find it very interesting.”
“You’re also here with a gentleman,” Kay said.
“Really?” Mandy squealed. “Something else the hubbie doesn’t know?”
“He’s a friend of Janea’s,” Barbara said, primly. “I’m staying with Janea, I’ll point out.”
“It’s not a problem,” Kay said. “I was just wondering. Where did you study martial arts?”
“How did you know… ?” Barb said then paused. “My dad got me into it when we were in Hong Kong before the turn-over. I’ve been studying it ever since.”
“The religious conference,” Kay said. “Would that be the Foundation for Love and Universal Faith?”
“Yes,” Barbara said carefully. “You know about it?”
“A bit,” Goldberg replied. “What did you think of your fellow attendees?”
“They were a very… eclectic bunch,” Barb said, looking at Goldberg with more interest. She noticed that the accent had faded again, just a bit.
“And you came from there to here?” Goldberg asked. “To observe the con?”
“Yes,” Barbara said.
“Interesting,” the woman replied. “Well, it’s getting late and these old bones can’t handle the chill as well as they used to. I’ll bid you all good night.”
After a round of good nights she headed for the far side of the atrium and Barb bit her lip.
“I forgot to ask her something,” Barbara said. “If you’ll excuse me for a minute?”
She strode after Goldberg and caught her as she was waiting for the elevator. There were three young people in black waiting for the elevator and when Barb caught the word “vampires” she perked up. But a moment later she realized they were talking about a game.
“Miz Goldberg?” she said as the elevator arrived. “I was wondering…”
“How I know of the Foundation?” Kay asked as they got on the elevator.
“Uhm…” Barbara said then paused again since they were in the elevator with the teenagers. “Actually, I was wondering about you. It’s… something that Daddy taught me.”
“I’m just a writer, miss,” the woman said. “A very old one who is going to bed.”
The three got off the elevator at the second floor and as the door closed so did Barb’s face.
“You’re a hell of a lot more than a writer, Miz ‘Goldberg,’ “ Barbara said. “The way that you deflect questions is straight out of the manual on avoiding being pumped.”
“And you’re a hell of a lot more than a homemaker, Mrs. Everette,” Kay replied, just as hard. “What’s going on at the con?”
Barbara paused for a moment more then shrugged.
“There’s a serial killer,” she said as the doors opened again.
“Go ahead,” Goldberg said as they stepped out of the doors. “You’d be surprised what you can say at a con. I’ll just tell anyone who hears it that you were trying to sell me on writing an idea you had for a novel.” She stopped and sighed. “You’d be surprised how often that happens.”
“Well, this would make a good one,” Barb said as they reached the woman’s room.
Barbara explained the nature of their mission to the woman as the writer took off her shoes and rubbed her feet. When she was done, for the first time the woman really looked old.
“And Special Circumstances thinks the killer is one of my fans?” Kay asked, still rubbing her feet.
“You even know about that?” Barb asked, her eyes narrowing.
“You’d be surprised what I know, kiddo,” Kay replied, her accent entirely gone. If anything it sounded a bit New York. “Yeah, I know about SC. Is that old stick Germaine still in charge?”
“Yes,” Barbara said. “He recruited me.”
“You should have run screaming,” Goldberg replied with a sigh. She got up and went to the room’s refrigerator and pulled out a split of champagne and a bottle of orange juice. After pouring equal measures into a plastic cup she drank about half of the mixture before sitting back down and lighting another Virginia Slims. She took another sip, a long drag on the cigarette and then looked Barb square in the eye. “Special Circumstances eats people and spits them out as mangled husks. I hate them in a way. Oh, I know that they do the Lord God’s work. But they use their people like donkeys. No, even donkeys get some rest. I know most of the people that talk to me at cons by name. Young male?”