Robert nodded understandingly, though he had no idea what he was supposed to be thinking or feeling. He did not believe Father Martinez was lying, but the priest's story did not seem real to him. He felt disassociated from what he had been told, as though he had been listening to someone recount the. plot of a book or a movie, and he had to force himself to pretend to take the priest seriously "Look," he said, "I'm going over to talk to Wheeler this morning. You're welcome to come along and ask him about this." demon."
"Oh, no. I couldn't go back there." '
"Well, what do you want me to do then?"
"Kill him."
Robert blinked. "What?
"Kill Mr. Wheeler. Waste the fucker. Then cut off his head."
Robert stared at Father Martinez, completely at a loss for words. He would have thought he'd imagined what he just heard were it not for the unwavering eyes and the earnest and deadly serious look on the priest's face.
"You can bring his head to me on a plate."
Robert stiffened. "If this is a joke--" "The minions of Satan are no joke." He didn't know what to say, how to reply.
"You can shoot him if you have to. But the most important thing is to cut off his head. You have to cut off his head." o
Robert stared at the priest. "Father, I'm afraid this conversation is over. I don't know whether or not you're serious about this, but if you are, you need help. And not the kind of help the police can give you."
"You're with him" the priest yelled, and his voice was a shocked accusation. "You're part of it! You're consorting with the devil!"
Robert had started to turn toward the station, but he suddenly whirled around. "If you don't leave now, I will be forced to place you under arrest. Do you understand me? I am going to talk to Pastor Wheeler this morning. I will ask about your demon if you want. But if no laws have been broken, there will be no action taken. And there will certainly be no killing." He glared at Father
Martinez until the priest turned away, then turned and continued across the dirt to the station door.. The Medusa Syndrome.
He would have to call Jacobson, see if the psychiatrist had discovered what Mike Vigil had seen.
And he would have to re-ask Woods's question about the vampire.
Two hours later, Robert pulled up in front of Wheeler's church.
He got out of the car and, hitching up his belt, sauntered over to where permits for the renovation were displayed on a bracketed black post. He scanned the carbon sheets of official paper, shaking his head. Everything appeared to be in order, but he could not figure out how approval from the county planning commission had been granted so quickly. Hell, he'd had a request in for an expansion of the old jail building for two months, and even though the police department was a government agency and its requests were supposedly expedited, the matter had still not come up before the commission. "God's will."
Robert jerked his head up to see the Pastor Wheeler staring down at him from the church steps. The words, so closely paralleling an answer to his thoughts, made it almost seem as if the preacher were reading his mind. Wheeler smiled.
That smile made Robert uncomfortable. He had always found the preacher smugly self-satisfied and annoyingly condescending, but there was something else in that smile now. A cruel hardness, a hint of willful malevolence. It was as if Wheeler felt he no longer had to worry about the laws and mores of the material world, as if he was not only convinced that he possessed The Truth but had received concrete assurance that God was acting as his personal bodyguard.
Robert wondered if the preacher really thought he'd spoken to Jesus Christ.
Yes, he thought, looking into Wheeler's face, he did.
Robert glanced down the sidewalk, trying to see where the new addition came closest to the edge of the property line--the spot where Martinez claimed to have peeked inside the church and seen the demon.
"May I help you, Chief Carter?"
Robert turned again to face the preacher. Once more, he shifted his belt, reassured by its weight, by the presence of the holster. He nodded a greeting as he walked across the dirty sidewalk to the steps. "As a matter of fact, you can. I've had a few complaints lately from some of your neighbors. As I'm sure you know, some of them don't take kindly to construction going on all hours of the day and night."
Wheeler's smile did not falter. "Go on."
"Well, I just thought you could stop the pounding and sawing after six or seven in the evening as sort of a good will gesture. There are some hardworking Christians around here who need their sleep."
"Good Christians? If they were good Christians, they would understand the importance of the Church of the
Living Christ. If they were good Christians, they would be volunteering to help with the construction of this glory to God's greatness instead of trying to place obstacles in its path."
That tack had backfired, but Robert kept his voice calm and friendly, maintaining his easy smile. "That may be true, Reverend, but I think it's a fair request--"
"Is it fair to try to stop the will of the Lord?"
"I'm sure your volunteers need rest too."
"They don't like the color either, do they? Those people who complain?
They don't like the color the Lord Jesus Christ has chosen to make His church?"
Robert glanced down at the sidewalk. "I wouldn't know about that."
"Black is Christ's favorite color. In Heaven, His rooms are the color of jet. There is a glorious mansion of blackness to house the Lord of hosts."
Robert shook his head. "Look, I'm asking you kindly, as an act of charity so to speak, to cut down on the noise. Your people can still paint, can still do quiet work. Just cut out the sawing and hammering and loud stuff between, say, eight at night and six in the morning."
"No. I am afraid construction of the Lord's home cannot be postponed for the convenience of unbelievers."
"I don't want to right with you, Reverend."
"Then don't."
"I could charge you with disturbing the peace, you know--if I wanted to get nasty. I hope it doesn't come to that. But the people who live in this neighborhood have rights too. What we need to do here is reach some kind of compromise, find a way to satisfy both sides."
"There is only one side. And if you try to halt construction on this church for even a minute, I will slap you, the police department, and the town with a harassment suit."
Robert started up the steps. "I don't know who you think--"
"You are trespassing on my land," Wheeler said. "Get off my property.
You have no warrant."
Robert stared at him in disbelief. "This is a church." "It is my church. It is not public property." "Jesus Christ."
The pastor's face turned a deep cranberry red. He turned and walked into the building without speaking, closing the door loudly and firmly shut behind him. Robert waited for a few moments at the bottom of the steps, on the public sidewalk, not on church property, but when it became clear that Wheeler was not going to come out again, he headed back to the cruiser.
If that son of a bitch wanted to play hardball, then hardball it would be.
He did not look back at the church as he peeled out and sped down the street.
Rich came by after four. He'd brought Anna with him, and he left her out in the lobby where Lee Anne and Jud could keep her occupied at the front desk, and walked back to Robert's office alone.
Robert was scanning the index of The Vampire: His Kith and Kin when his brother knocked on the door and stepped into the office. He looked up, smiled tiredly, and closed the book. "How's the news biz?"