“Look here, Reverend, with all due respect—”
“And what about this freakish corn they want to grow here?” called out a very deep voice. It was Dale Estrem, on his feet, raising a hoe in a knotted fist. “What about that?”
He brought that hoe here as a prop,thought Ludwig, writing madly. He came prepared to make a scene.
“It’s going to cross-pollinate and pollute our fields! These scientists want to come here and play God with our food, Reverend! When are you going to talk about that?”
Now a far more hysterical voice rang out, trumping all. An old man, skinny as a rail, with a huge bobbing Adam’s apple that made his neck whiskers bristle like quills, had stood up and was shaking his fist furiously at Wilbur. It was old Whit Bowers, the recluse who managed the town dump. “The End Days are come! Can’t you see it, you blind fool!”
Swede turned. “Look, Whit, that wasn’t what I was—”
“You’re all a pack of fools if you don’t see it! The devil is walking among us!”
The man’s voice was shriekingly high, raspy, cutting like a knife through the babel.
“The devil himself is in this church!Are you all blind? Can’t you see it? Can’t you smellit?”
Pastor Wilbur was holding up his hands and shouting something, but his dry, pedantic voice could not compete with the general hubbub. Now everyone was on their feet. The church was in chaos.
“He’s here!”Whit shrieked. “Look to your neighbor! Look to your friend! Look to your brother! Is that the devil’s eyes staring back at you? Look well! And take heed! Have you all forgotten the words of Peter? Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking who he may devour!!”
Others were shouting to be heard. People were milling in the aisle. There was a cry and someone fell. Ludwig lowered his pad, strained to see. There was Pendergast, still as death in his shadowy corner. There was Corrie beside him, grinning with delight. The sheriff was yelling and gesturing. There was a sudden backward movement of the crowd.
“You son of a bitch!” someone shouted. There was a violent motion, the smack of a landed fist. My God, it was a fight, right here in the church. Ludwig was stunned. He hastily climbed up on the pew to get a better view, notebook in hand. It was Randall Pennoyer, a friend of Stott’s, dusting it up with another plant worker. “Nobody deserved to die like that, parboiled like a hog!”
There was more confused shouting, and several men surged forward to separate the combatants. Ridder himself was now wading in, shouting, trying to reach the fight. Sheriff Hazen, too, was ploughing down the aisle like a bulldog, his head lowered. As Ludwig watched, Hazen fell over Bertha Blodgett and rose again, his face dark with fury. Horrified voices echoed off the vaulted ceiling. The people in the back had pushed open the doors and were exiting in a confused mass.
A pew came crashing down to the frightened screams of a woman.
“ Not in the house of God!”Wilbur was shouting, his eyes bulging.
Above it all, the apocalyptic voice of Whit continued, piping out a shrill warning: “Look into their eyes and you will see! Breathe the air and smell the brimstone! He’s a crafty one, but you will find him out! Yes, you will! The killer is here! He’s one of us! The devil has come to Medicine Creek and he’s walking hand in hand with us. You heard it: the devil with the face of a child!”
Twenty-Nine
Corrie Swanson sat in her car beneath the shade of the trees in the little turnout by the creek, where Pendergast had—in his mysterious fashion—asked her to drive him. It had just passed noon, and the heat was suffocating. Corrie shifted in her seat, feeling the beads of sweat gathering on her forehead, on the back of her neck. Once again, Pendergast was acting strange. He’d simply reclined in his broken seat and closed his eyes. He looked asleep, but of course Corrie knew enough by now to realize he wasn’t sleeping. He was thinking. But about what? And why here? And whatever the hell it was, why had it taken half an hour, and counting?
She shook her head. He was a weird one. Nice weird, but weird all the same.
She picked up the book she was reading, Beyond the Ice Limit,found her dog-eared place at the beginning of chapter six, and began to read.
The sea horizon lay against the sky, blue against perfect blue, and it seemed to beckon the ship southward, ever southward.
She closed the book, put it down again. Not bad, but it lacked the punch of the original. Or maybe it was just that something else was on her mind. Such as what she’d just seen in church.
Her mother was not the church-going type, and Corrie had only been inside a few times. Even so, she realized that nobody in town, no matter how many times they’d set foot within Calvary Lutheran, had ever, everseen anything like it. The whole town was falling apart. That Pastor Wilbur, who always passed her with his eyes averted and lips compressed in disapproval, had blown it big-time. What a self-righteous ass. She couldn’t help but smile afresh at the images that reeled through her head: crazy old Whit shrieking hell and damnation, Estrem up there waving his hoe, everyone fleeing out the back and falling down the stairs, the plant workers fighting and knocking over pews. So many times in her fantasies she had imagined earthquakes leveling the town, bombs dropping, huge fires consuming everything, riots in the streets, the high school being swallowed by a bottomless pit. And now, in a way, it had come to pass. She was still smiling at the images, but the smile had grown fixed on her face. The reality wasn’t quite so funny.
She glanced over at Pendergast and almost jumped. He was sitting there, at full attention, regarding her with his pale cat’s eyes.
“To the Castle Club, if you please,” he said quietly.
Corrie quickly composed herself. “Why?”
“I understand that Sheriff Hazen and Art Ridder will be lunching with Dr. Chauncy. As you know, Chauncy will make his announcement tomorrow as to which town will get the experimental field. No doubt citizens Hazen and Ridder are making a final pitch for Medicine Creek. Since Chauncy’s leaving the area tomorrow, there are certain questions I’d like to put to him first.”
“You don’t think he’sinvolved?”
“As I’ve said, I am keeping my deductive faculties as quiescent as possible, and I’d advise you to do the same.”
“You really think they’ll be there? I mean, after what happened in church just now?”
“Chauncy was not in church. He may know nothing of what transpired. Regardless, the sheriff and Mr. Ridder will want to make a great show of normalcy. To reassure him, if need be.”
“Okay,” Corrie said, throwing the Gremlin in reverse. “You’re the boss.”
Although it galled her to do so, Corrie kept the car within the speed limit as Medicine Creek hove into view above the corn. In another moment they were pulling into the big parking lot of the bowling alley. It was almost empty, she noticed; but then, this was Medicine Creek, and emptiness was the norm.
Pendergast motioned her to precede him, and they entered the alley and made their way past the lanes to the glassed-in front of the Castle Club. Within, Chauncy, Ridder, and Hazen were seated at Ridder’s usual table. The rest of the place was deserted. All three stared as they entered.
Hazen rose and quickly moved forward, intercepting them in the middle of the dining room.
“Pendergast, what is it now?” he said in a low voice. “We’re in the middle of an important business meeting.”
“Sheriff, I’m very sorry to interrupt your luncheon,” the agent replied mildly. “I have a few questions for Dr. Chauncy.”