Health, Wealth, and Murder (5 page)

Later that night she camped out in her bedroom with her criminology text and pored over the assigned chapters. The criminal mind wasn’t much of a mystery. All have sinned and fallen short. And out of the heart of man come evil thoughts. And thoughts lead to actions. Since she was part of the “all” who had sinned, and who had evil thoughts, well, she didn’t love the implication that she was equally capable of murder, but in general, the idea that sinners in a broken world were out to get each other was neither shocking nor particularly intimidating.

She just had to narrow down what kind of evil mind was behind this particular murder.

Every time a lecturer in her criminal justice class mentioned religious fanaticism as a sign of mental imbalance, Jane bristled. But, if that were true and not just liberal bias, a Josiah Malachi event was likely to be rife with just that kind of crazy. His killer could easily be a maniac who was exhibiting religious fanaticism. If so, should she be looking inside or outside? Would it have been someone who came to the event and saw the opportunity, or someone within?

Jake wanted her to dismiss the idea of an outsider, but if he had a fanatic follower who was familiar, from televised events and the Internet, with his regular script, that person could have easily planned a murder.

Her phone chirped—Francine was texting.

“TMRO 9 AM. B HERE.”

Jane wrinkled her nose. Needlessly vague texts irritated her. “At the Malachi house? To clean?”

“YES! IMPORTANT MTNG.”

Jane considered asking what kind of meeting, but it occurred to her that someone might be monitoring Francine’s phone. For about fifty bucks Jane could set her up with an untraceable phone no one else knew about. It would be a deductible work expense—and invaluable for getting real info from Francine.

“CU then.” Jane sent her last message. She’d have to hope there was some kind of mess near enough to the meeting that she could conveniently hear what was happening. Maybe Francine would take care of that little detail for her.

Jane was too excited to sleep well. She tossed and turned and kicked her down comforter off. Could she convince Francine to take a new phone? Would she be able to hear what was going on in the meeting? Would she know the useful information from the worthless? Was she just wasting the Malachis’ money while the police did the real work?

Would the Malachis actually pay her?

Despite the sleep fail, she was up by five, like usual, and had plenty of time to make her requests known to God before she was needed at the Malachi house.

As to the necessary mess, an act of God had taken care of that.

Christiana was established in the dining room with half a dozen people around the table, Francine included.

Jane was in the kitchen, one small butler’s pantry away, deep cleaning because of an infestation of sugar ants. They were everywhere, like the lice in Egypt, and Jane couldn’t be happier. Scrubbing every inch of the kitchen could last as long as she wanted it to.

The voices from the dining room were clear enough that Jane didn’t even need to crouch at the door to eavesdrop.

“I agree with Christiana,” a young man with a clear, deep voice said. “We’ve already got the schedule planned for our whole stay here.”

“And we don’t want to let the people down.” This time the speaker was a young woman. “People have been praying for us to come, have been longing for the work of the Spirit.” Her voice was a bit twee, and very sincere sounding.

Jane rolled her eyes.

Apparently so did the deep-voiced man. “God doesn’t need us to do his work.”

“But he longs to use us.” The sincere-voiced girl had a dreamy, grateful tone to her voice that was nice to hear.

“Enough bickering. We’re scheduled, so we will meet our commitments. We say we believe our life on earth is temporary and our return home to God is what we long for. Now is our chance to show everyone that we mean it. We don’t grieve Josiah.” Here, Christiana choked on her words, like she was suppressing a sob. “We celebrate his homegoing.”

“It’s natural to grieve the loss of your husband.” This time the speaker was an older-sounding woman, with the raspy voice of a smoker.

“That’s the world’s way, Evelyn,” Christiana said. “Not our way.”

Jane dragged her damp rag across the windowsill. None of them were talking like they believed they were scam artists. Was that because only a select few were in on the scamming? Or was it because the team really believed the drugs, special effects, and carefully staged activity was the way God liked to work? Jane paused.

No church she had ever been a part of explicitly taught that God blessed people with money when they pleased him, and yet, all of the churches she had been a part of had taken financial success—with fundraisers, events, building programs, all of that—as a sign that God was blessing an activity. She took a deep breath. The Malachi Ministries taught the popular prosperity gospel, which made no secret of seeing money as God’s blessing. So, with that logic in mind…

Jane sat down.

The Malachi family was filthy rich.

The house they had rented was a beautiful old thing in an expensive neighborhood. They had a shiny new Cadillac parked out front. Christiana wore really big diamonds on her fingers and ears and around her neck. Jane had seen their travel coach on the Internet in her googling. And she had read that the Malachi family owned a private jet and a couple of really big estates.

If they truly believed that money was a sign of God’s blessing, of you pleasing him with your labor—and Jane had to admit, while this wasn’t taught overtly at any church she had gone to, it had certainly been accepted over and over again as an unspoken truth—then the Malachi Ministries had abundant “evidence” that God liked how they ran their events.

Jane’s stomach turned. She gripped her rag in a tight fist.

If these guys were sincere, and their belief in their work was logical—even considered against her own church experience—then how could she keep considering Josiah a snake-oil salesman who deserved what he got?

Christiana was talking again, her voice much quieter now, so Jane had to focus to hear her. “We are scheduled and we keep our appearances. I will be preaching, and you all know what I need. If we want to pull this off—and, trust me, we do—we can’t spare any expense. Do you understand?”

“We’ll make it happen for you, Christiana.” The speaker was another new voice. Young and male. Something about the edge to his voice sent a shiver of fear up Jane’s arms.

Half an hour later, after everyone had cleared out of the dining room, Francine met Jane in the kitchen. “The exterminator is here to spray for the ants. Let’s leave him to it.” Francine placed her hand at the small of Jane’s back and led her outside. “I’m not sure the safest place to go, but a quiet coffee shop far from here will work.” Francine’s face was ashen, with dark circles under her eyes. “I’ll follow you.”

“Sure, no problem.” Jane squeezed her hand and then drove them to Maywood to have a quiet cup of coffee, and a burger, at the last standing Roly Burger restaurant.

The lunch crowd hadn’t appeared yet, but Jane had texted Jake when she pulled into the parking lot, and he let Francine and Jane meet in his office.

“Francine, I don’t know what to say. I didn’t overhear anything suspicious while I cleaned. I don’t want to disappoint you, but…unless you can tell me what you were hoping I would hear, I’m not sure this morning did any good.”

Francine stirred her coffee. “I was in the meeting, and I agree. If you didn’t know what you were listening for, you don’t know what you heard.”

“So what did I hear?”

Francine sucked in her cheeks. After a moment she answered, “You heard Christiana declare that she wouldn’t grieve her husband and that she wanted business to go on as usual. You also heard her encouraging the task force in their sincere devotion, which I think is criminal.” Color rose in Francine’s face.

Jane drummed her fingers on the table. “What makes you think Christiana and Josiah weren’t sincere?”

Francine stared at Jane, wide eyed. “You aren’t a follower of theirs, surely?”

“Of course not, but I have limited access to the inside of all of this. Knowing what makes you feel sure that the Malachis haven’t been sincere would help me.”

Francine narrowed her eyes. “They use illicit drugs to manufacture visions to convince lonely people that handing over their hard-earned money will give them God’s blessing.”

“But is that how the Malachis saw it?” Jane kept her voice soft. She didn’t want to upset Francine, but the idea that Josiah and Christiana might have been completely sincere in all they did was nagging at her. It spoke to the motive of the killer somehow—or at least she wanted it to.

“I’m sure.”

“But how can you be? I would like to know what you know. It would help me.” Jane leaned forward slightly.

Francine shook her head. “It won’t help you nearly as much as knowing a little more about the task force will.” Francine crossed her arms over her chest.

Jane nodded and sat back in her chair. “Knowing about the people at today’s meeting will help. What can you tell me about them?”

“The task force is fifteen people, but Christiana only invited the six leads to the meeting today. That includes me, as I was Josiah’s personal assistant.”

“What about the other five people who were there today?”

“Lucas is the one with that deep voice; he’s been traveling with us for five years. He runs all of the lights and sound and works with buildings and facilities. You could say he’s in charge of making sure each event is set up to create the right mood, and only reveal exactly what Josiah wants everyone to see.”

“Would he also edit footage for the website?” Jane sipped her coffee. She was finally getting down to business, and even if she wasn’t spying right now, she was getting to flex her interview skills, which needed the exercise.

“Yes, that’s him. He puts together all of the video footage. He’s busy right now working on the last three events. Some will air on TV and some will go online.”

“Did he make these decisions himself, or did he work closely with Josiah?”

“He worked hand in hand with both of them. Usually they watched the footage together, and Josiah told Lucas exactly what he wanted shown in the video. Then Lucas created it.” Francine switched her cup from hand to hand but didn’t drink.

So Lucas was the one to talk to about the editing of the golden-insects video and how Josiah felt about the direction his visions had taken. She would just have to figure out a natural reason for the housekeeper to have that conversation.

“I only heard one other man’s voice. Who was the silent one?”

“That was Nguyen. His English is pretty bad.” She shook her head. “The poor man. He’s been with the team for quite a long time now. Travels with us. Does a lot of legwork.”

“Legwork?”

“Door to door. Passing out flyers, hanging posters. He leads the local members of the task force, sends them out two by two and all of that. I suppose it’s good work for him, a good job. He writes the instructions out and sends folks. I suppose he’s as fluent in English as he’ll ever be, but his accent is thick, and he just doesn’t like to talk much.”

“And the other man?” Jane made notes, but wondered how to spell “Win,” and what his first language might be.

“That’s Robert.” Francine blushed, so small an amount Jane might not have noticed had she not been paying extra-close attention. “He joined up with the team six months ago, and works hard. But he keeps to himself. Nose down, getting his job done.”

Jane put a question mark next to his name. Francine was keeping something to herself, but what? “And the women?”

“I was there, of course. And Evelyn, Josiah’s sister. She walked out on her husband ten years ago when he decided that Josiah was a scam artist who he couldn’t support.”

“No wonder she was encouraging Christiana to grieve.”

Francine shrugged. “She would. No one knows if this ministry will last with Christiana at the head. Personality driven the way it has been and all, Evelyn might well be grieving her meal ticket as much as her brother.”

Jane flinched. Was Francine’s cold attitude to her teammates the result of being forced to work for evil people for too long, or could it be that she was just dark inside, and that was why she couldn’t get behind what Josiah was preaching? Jane shuddered. She needed to stop giving the Malachi Ministries the benefit of the doubt. “What about the younger woman?”

“Tiffany, Lucas’s wife.” Francine shrugged. “She’s completely brainwashed. I don’t think she knows about the drug use at all.”

“Why is she one of the six leads?”

Francine smirked. “You didn’t see her, did you?”

“Nope, you’ll have to enlighten me.” Jane shuddered. She had hoped with all her heart this crime wouldn’t be related to
that
kind of bad behavior.

“The wheelchair.”

“She’s in a wheelchair?” Her pen hovered over her paper. Not what she had expected to hear.

“Yes. Polio victim from India. She’s a sweet girl, and so sincere.” Francine finally took a drink of her coffee, but she made a pained face as though it had burned her tongue. “With braces, she can walk, but it tires her out. She comes to events in her wheelchair, then rises from it and walks to the stage at just the right time. Every event it’s exactly the same. It’s never on the video, only the ‘healings’ that follow her. No point letting the world know they use the same person as a prop week in and week out.”