Book IV : The Pillars of Matthias

Chapter 1   The Town

It was the only 3-storey building in Willard square. Her great grandfather, on her  mother's side, founded the town as a railway junction that linked up the three states nearby. It served as a warehousing center in this part of South Carolina.

Named after the town, Willard square was the town center with its shops and restaurants that catered to a population of about 75,000. Each time folks came into town, they were bound to drive past the square

past the statue of grandfather Willard, standing in the middle of the small park in the square, facing the 3-storey beige house that he had built for her great grandmother, which her mother inherited.

Her father Leo Quint, came from a farming family south of town, went to college on a city council scholarship and met her mother when he set up medical practice in town as a GP. His star rose on the shoulders of her mother and was soon known simply as 'Doc' in town.

Sara went to St. Peter's High, where she was home coming queen, before attending college in Jefferson. She did her post graduate in criminal psychology and took a position there as assistant professor in the School of Psychology.

People would turn to look at her as she passed, but would then go back again to what they were doing. She had naturally figured that she stirred an extraordinary excitation in people but nothing she could do in the way of new shampoos and dresses ever improved on that. It surprised her that a tall leggy blonde picked up very little interests in people.

That's why she had a natural affinity for her yoga instructor, a bi-sexual Malayalee from Kerala in India, whose pupils would dilate every time he saw her.  He had come to the US to pursue a degree in computer programming, but dropped out and married a divorced Hispanic before opening up the only yoga center in Jefferson.

So she was a little surprised when, in the middle of a lazy summer, she suddenly ran into Matthias. He was with the homicide division of the Jefferson Police Dept. At six feet two with dark hair that arched in front as it settled into a wave on the sides, Matthias, had the look of a sunday school teacher in his corduroy jacket and blue jeans.

“ I'm Matthias Shin and this is my partner Alexander Koudinof,” he had said as they flashed their badges.

“What can I do for you officers?” Sara inquired as she set aside the assignments she had been grading and got up to shake hands.

“ We have a mutual friend, Krishnan, at the yoga center,” Matthias began.

Sara smiled faintly.

“ You do yoga?” she asked with an anxiety of expectation.

“ When I get some time off,” he remarked in a tone of dismissal, “ but I've known Krishnan from a previous case when we were pursuing some suspected terrorists.”

Sara mouthed an ' Oh,' but didn't say anything. Matthias continued.

“ Well, Krishnan is an Indian and they do things differently over there. We are looking at a multiple murder involving a Vietnamese family and I happened to mention it to Krish....,” he paused suddenly and then with a sway of his head continued, “ well, we have the suspect in custody but we don't have a motive. That's when....,” he paused again, “ Krish suggested that they are Linchavi, not Vietnamese.”

“ There are very clever,” Alexander cut in. “ The Indians....they come from a history of great empires and are very passionate about their lives. Their mind works in many ways to understand people and to get along with them. We....the Soviets have a traditional relationship with them going back centuries. “

“ And he suggested that you all talk to me about it?” she inquired. “ He didn't say a thing to me.”

“ It's a social thing....” Alexander continued in a voice that resembled crass mixed with officialdom, “ they try to fit in with our social norms about not being presumptuous.”

Sara turned again to Matthias with a look of concealed indifference. Matthias hurried to respond.

“ We just left from a meeting with him and thought we'll follow up on his suggestion. I hope we are not interrupting anything?”

The concern had a far reaching implication in Sara's mind but she dismissed it. Matthias continued.

“ We have to prove motive in court, “ Matthias began, “ but there's no money, no competition, no girlfriend problems.....it would go down as a case of diminished capacity. Yang, the suspect can only say that its a family matter and will not say more.”

“ We're concerned that there's criminal intent....that's the law,” Alexander offered, “ Krishnan suggested that our laws don't take into account blood feuds that can sometimes go on for centuries....so that's a curious something we want to look at.”

Matthias, who had been standing up all this while, pulled up a chair and sat down.

“ There's a bill awaiting congress that could change the way that we look at motivation in violent crimes. The bill is being tabled by one of our own from South Carolina, Congressman Bill Davis. Krish suggested that he had consulted you on the bill's preparation.” It sounded like a question.

“ Bill and I spent some time on it.” Sara began slowly. “ We had examined several volumes of the transcripts from Guantanamo Bay and it pointed at some issues that we thought had relevance to law enforcement.”

“ It does raise some new issues in law enforcement,” Matthias intoned.

“ On motivation... ,” Sara offered. She was starting to feel curiously defensive. “ Well, it's like this,” she suggested, fighting to regain control. “ Science is still trying to decide whether psychology is a science. Freud did a great job persuading everyone that there's something tangible in psychology but it is a constantly changing face of experience and there's on-going effort to validate the research techniques as being objective. This includes the aspect of human insight into issues. What Bill and I came to conclude is that such testimonies on the implications of human psychology would have to be undertaken by expert witnesses, the way its done now, but we can strengthen our view of it.”

“It's your basic American nightmare,” Alexander replied, “ the say so of one person that can eventually hang a man. We ….the Soviets are still grappling with that, especially after stifling their own free press.”

They stared at each other in silence. When Matthias spoke again, it was as if they had come through a long dark tunnel to confess to themselves their own delicate positions on the issue of rationality and norm.

Matthias spoke with a quiet calm.

“Why would a young man with everything going for him, who believed in the American way, suddenly without explanation beat to death five members of his cousin's family with a baseball bat? A father and mother and their two sons and a daughter.”

“The parents migrated?” Sara asked.

“ Yes,” Matthias replied.

“ Can ….Yeah Okay …. can I ask something first?” Sara interjected.

Matthias looked at his partner and then back at her and gestured with his hands.

“Why don't people view blondes the same way anymore?”

“You mean like a bombshell?” Alexander asked stoically and then answered after a glance at Matthias. “I don't know.”

“ Well that's what I mean. Something that was quite wondrous in what we are just got tossed away and nobody says anything about it.”

“ A fashion idea....” suggested Matthias, “ things change....don't they?”

“ You think it might be a blood feud with the redheads?” Alexander suggested. Matthias suppressed a smile.

“ I'm suggesting that there might be more going on than we have given ourselves to understand.” Sara replied.

“ How would we prove something like that?” Matthias asked.

Sara's mind went back to her hometown and to the statue of her great grandfather in Willard Square. Her home appeared right in front. She had grown up with a self consciousness that came from the fact that everybody knew where she lived. It had implied in her mind that they knew her. Then she had come to realize that, that wasn't so. And all she had going for her is the map of the mind that she had been working with, in the course she offered.

She looked back at Matthias.

“ Would you gentlemen like to join me in a drink?” the invitation just blurted out.

“ We have to be back at the station,” Alexander announced.

They rose from their chairs.

“ Call me again in two days,” she announced and gave her card.

They left.

She made her way down to the bar just outside the college premises. As she saw her reflection on the glass door before going in, she was reminded of the comment her mother always said about her.

' I swear, you're getting more like your father everyday.'

She was into her third whiskey when Matthias stepped in from the light outside. He was headed to her table.

Chap 2  An Improvisational Conversation

“ How are you doing?” Matthias called as he approached.

“ I'm fine,” she replied but caught herself, as he quickly finished whatever he was doing on his cell.

“Is the invitation still open?” he asked.

She waved him to the chair.

“It has to be quick,” she replied. “ I'm due back at the college.”

He ordered a whiskey and turned to her.

“ It occurred to me as we got to the station that you were trying to tell us something. And this might be the right place for it. Dang foreigners...they're got everybody edgy.”

They clinked their glasses in a cheer and sipped on their drinks. Sara felt an instinctive sense that it's not too hard to get along with him. He was unpretentious and beneath the straight Hemingway eyebrows, she thought she saw understanding in his eyes.

But she realized that she was nursing a feel about the way she charged out with the invitation. Matthias took the initiative.

“Are you from here?”

“No,” she answered quickly, “ Willard....about 100 miles north. Yourself?”

“A few places,” he replied, “ Originally from Pennsylvania.”

“Your name is …...,” she trailed off tentatively.

“ German. My great grandfather....” he answered and warmed up slowly, “ worked on the first locomotive factory in Pennsylvania, during the civil war.....” he kept going, '” didn't go to school or college....these guys learned engineering by themselves and eventually grew to be one of the largest locomotive companies in the world.” He paused. “ And your folks in Willard?”

“ It's like the history of Willard....my great grandfather founded the town and my father runs his medical practice there today.”

They ordered another round of drinks.

  

“ So where did you learn to pick up girls?” she asked suddenly.

It threw him off momentarily but he found his balance again.

“ In the marines,” he replied. “ Over in Iraq.”

“Been back a while?” she asked.

He leaned back in his chair and took a moment to find the words for the reply.

“ Well, back and forth. Finished my tour, then joined up with Blackwater and did another two years.”

“ You sound like you liked it?”

“ I liked the idea of keeping busy....doing something.....seemed like the right thing to do.”

“ I'm going to mention something completely off the wall here....”

He waved her on and added,

“ You've picked up quite a knack for it.”

She smiled in response.

“ I'm glad you changed your mind about the invitation.”

He leaned forward again.

“ I might be trying to prove that blondes are fashionable again.”

“ That might be a little hard to do,” she replied, “ but don't let me discourage you.”

“Another off the wall?” she appealed.

“ It's what I came back from the war for,” he quipped.

“ How did you and Krish meet?”

He leaned back again.

“It was after 7/11. We were checking on all flight schools and foreign businesses. We had no idea that yoga was Indian.....so we got in there, made some pointed inquiries and then realized what it was. But this guy took no offense whatsoever. We chatted a little and he put me onto a bunch things I didn't know before. He tells me about the different sects in Islam, the objectives of their learning and got me to realize that while we are after some very dangerous people.....they are....also making mistakes in what they know about us.....and he made me feel for a moment that we are all like kids fooling around with danger and looking to score.”

He paused and smiled.

“ I had never seen it that way before....so we got to chatting and meeting for drinks.”

“ He has a very disarming manner,” she replied, then added “ So it's not a gay thing?”

He leaned forward.

“ Well, if I was marooned on a deserted island with him, I think maybe....like being in prison....but no I don't think it goes that far.” Then he added, “ He has a curious explanation about intimacy with the same sex which he says is important for the mind but that doesn't include what he calls, ' expressing your passions in reverse.' “

She laughed.

“ And you?” he asked quickly. “ Are you seeing someone special?”

“ No,” she replied....then trawled herself into saying, “ I can't say I haven't been curious. About same sex I mean. There's something tender....in that...”

“Well, Krish engages yoga to explain it, so you might come to understand that before I do.”

“So you don't do yoga?”

“Never did and I'm not sure if I ever will. Its the gym for me.”

Sara leaned back.

“ I think I may have something on the Vietnamese murders,” she announced. “ What we have come to see regarding these non-verbal experiences and blood feuds....the word is Karma.....is that they still leave a physical trail or impact.”

Matthias nodded in anticipation.

“ You're working on the assumption that he hated the people he killed. Turn that around and lead him to a sense of killing them because he loved them.”

Matthias squinted in response.

“ Did you check to see if there was a gay relationship involved?”

“ We couldn't get him to say.”

“ Switch it around....something to do with age-old Asian honor among men and the impact of our new liberalism on the gay issue....it's a hard mix to sustain. Somebody here tried it and didn't like it.”

Matthias nodded.

“ You have an advantage,” he declared, “ your great grandfather founded a town.”

“ And you have the advantage of the improvisational,” she replied.

They paid for their drinks and left.

Chap 3   The Green House

Sara  had a restless night. At five in the morning, she packed a sandwich with some coffee and drove to Jefferson park, a public garden in the northern part of town.

She felt a vague dizziness that combined with intermittent spells that resembled highs and lows in her moods. They alternated with each other rapidly, producing a mild balance of issues in which it appeared that she might agree to anything. After all, everything had a basis in the experience of the individual.

Had she been too easy with Matthias? The words ' penis envy ' came up right away. Why did it have to be this difficult always, she wondered.

She made her way to the arboretum, found a bench and sat down. She was in a tropical forest. All around her, in the green house, were trees, flowers and specimens from the tropics. She came here every time she had to get away from it all. It represented something far far away.

In the middle of the tropical forest was a huge ' flame of the forest,' a tree that grew to about twenty-five feet in height with small flowers that were bright red in color. It must have appeared like the forest is on fire from the airplanes above, she thought.

The tree's position in the center of the green house drew the attention of all the other plants, or so it appeared to her. It helped her to transfer her own self conscious feelings to the tree and to the environment around her.

The row of orchids represented her father, which in their variety of species competed for attention with the flame of the forest. She saw her mother as the ' yellow shower tree ' whose flowers hung like garlands around the tree creating a look of festivity.

Her own position in the center was not something she was prepared to give up, but today, her eyes traveled to the clump of yellowish green bamboos with their sharp leaves, that stood clearly upright and the stems comprised sections, like equal parts of itself, distributed all over the bamboo. It calmed her.

She rose and walked over to the flame of the forest in the center.

“ What are you telling me my friend?” she asked.

She felt a stir in her chest. It was the same place that she sometimes felt rages of anger that pulled on her passions and shut it down. It was one way she managed to get past situations that she simply couldn't bring herself to face.

She continued walking past the tree over the small wooden bridge that arched over the tiny stream that had been designed just below to create the sound of flowing water. Above, the yellow mynahs were flying in pairs, creating the throaty whistle that echoed around the green house.

“ I'm a lot better than I used to be,” she mumbled to herself. “ What's this about then?”

It had been a strange but ecstatic chat with Matthias in the bar. It was like a real conversation. She recalled always playing the svengali with men....it was either that or let them play svengali. She had been proud of her ability to do so, yet it lacked real passion in the relationship. It was nice to let go a little.

Her thoughts went to the case of the Vietnamese family and then to her own marriage. When it failed it happened for the most curious of reasons.

She had allowed Tom a degree of control over their relationship. In what she thought was the most bizarre of experiences, she always felt his presence and voice even when he wasn't around. It was a dual experience of Tom in which she found later, one was not actually in agreement with the other.

Why did she think that, she wondered?

She had believed that Tom was playing at being unmindful of her own individual relations with him, on the occasions when he wasn't around. Why did she do that?

He had told her later that she was imagining things about him.

Krish had helped her manage the experience of duality. How? She figured she'll come to understand it someday.

Her thoughts went back to her childhood and the first day, her father had introduced her to that standing statue of a man holding his coat lapel in the middle of town.  She thought of her godfather, her father's best friend. She figured later that it was her godfather who represented a sense of presence in her life that she had confused with Tom. It had helped to stabilize her experience.

She remembered going to meet him, some weeks after the divorce came through. It became a substitute for her that she practiced with the enthusiasm of a Joan of Arc.

“ I'm sorry to hear about the divorce,” he had said.

“ I overdid it in some way. I thought I felt him in some part of me and referred to him that way. His response to it became a self fulfilling prophecy for him.”

“What do you think it is?” he had asked.

“It's the same spot that the pastor occupies when I go to church or the Christ. Now I think it is in some ways you as well.”

“ I hear you are going to yoga classes?” he had asked.

“I just started a few weeks ago. It helps me to relax.”

It was his way of distracting the issues when it made a reference to him. Then he'll come back to it.

“When your father asked me to be your godfather I wasn't sure. But years later I realized that it was the only thing I did that made a difference to my sensitivities.”

He had paused to pace the room.

“ When a person makes a commitment that way, it appears to him that here's a situation that he brings his all to apply to issues. It's a sensible way to come into contact with the god idea. And with regards to your own welfare, I have never felt but the most positive indications of your nature, of your innocence and the fact that even your own naïve sense at times, plays a part in the way you conduct your affairs.”

The sharp shriek of a bird call brought her back to her surroundings in the green house.

She had felt nervous in her conversation with Matthias, especially when sharing private information. She had sensed his own anxiety.

She made her way to the door. The humidity in the green house had become quite stifling.

She couldn't say for certain how she perceived the suggestion regarding Yang, in the Vietnamese case.  It had occurred to her always that when all else fails, it appeared natural to want to plough back everything and look at things from another way.

She was reminded of Bootes, the plough man, in the constellations. Did nature itself conceive a need as such for itself?

As she left, she turned to look at the green house again and wondered about the idea the town council had to put it there in the park. Did they know something?

' People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones,' she said absent-mindedly.

 She had picked up this sudden thrust of thought into her speech after the divorce. It was as if she had kept it hatched down for too long and would come tumbling out unannounced. It was almost child like. Eccentric? Is that what happens to all college professors? The inquiries were endless.

Chap 4   The Glass House

Sara parked her car on the street and put in enough coins for two hours.  The yoga center was just around the block.  As she turned around from the parking meter, she realized that ' The Gap ' department store across the road was having its grand annual sale.

The considerations regarding a new dress suddenly loomed large in her mind. She figured that it would be in some way a relevance to her needs at this time. She had ten minutes before her class but before she properly arrived at a decision, her feet were striding across the road to the store.

As she walked through the doors, she felt the gates to her ' disco ' open. She felt very crowded in a room full of people who were all her. There was one who wanted something casual for a picnic. Then as she turned, she saw another one of her going to a barbecue.

“Not so fast,” she muttered under her breath, referring to a glass house experience of possibilities she had always enjoyed as a child. She didn't quite think it was a female thing, but figured that women engaged the glass house possibilities in their daily activities, while the men deferred it to what they always referred to as thinking.

Then suddenly she saw herself meeting his mother. ' No, too much,' she said as she dismissed it.

So why had she come into the store, she wondered. She paused at the lingerie section but realized she was not going to leave. She had denied herself the glass house in order to get herself more ordered at work, but it was starting to wear her out. Besides, she thought, it was simply defensiveness.

Matthias....well, any new acquaintances she had formed recently would have to accept her for what she is or she'll show them the road. She paused again. She thought again about how she seemed to be blurting out things when she feels cornered. She'll have to …..

Someone tapped her on her shoulder.

“ I have the same problem when I step in here, “ said Randolph. “ Simply can't decide.”

“ Lingerie?” she teased.

Randolph was her godfather's son. A nice sort of person who always spoke to her like she came first, not himself. And that always caused in her a volition to agree with him on the issues he raised. A mutually programmed society of self fulfilling prophecies.

“ Are you busy? Can you spare a few minutes?” he asked earnestly.

“ I have a class to get to,” she responded. “ Can it wait?”

  

“ Yeah, okay” he agreed quickly. “ It's about father....” he trailed off.

“What about Mike?” she blurted out.

He made a gesture with his hands about someone going over the edge.

“The doctor says he needs to rest.”

“ Is he all right? Is it anything serious?”

They went over to the food court, got a coke each and found an empty table.

“ He's into UFOs,” Randolph announced. “ He says he gets nightly visits from Aliens who are concerned about earth conditions and want to help.”

Her concern opened up her glass house just slightly and she pictured an alien individual walking away from Mike as he sat in a chair with a blanket around his legs.

Randolph was going on about something but her attention seemed to be focused on how she can bring herself to communicate what she just saw as part of Mike's condition.

She reached for her cell and dialed his number. She had to take on more herself, she figured, get him to stop worrying about her.

“ Is that father?” Randolph asked.

“ Yeah,” she responded.

“ Mike,” she called into her phone, “ How're you doing?” She paused briefly. “ Okay, I'm glad to hear that....yeah all right.....I'd like to come see you.....this weekend?.....okay I'll call you.....good....take care....bye.”

Randolph seemed reassured. They finished their coke and they made their way back to the store.

“ Aren't you going back to your class?” he inquired.

“ No....not today,” she replied. She had an idea what she needed to find in a dress.

“ I have to ask you to do something for me,” Randolph suddenly began, “ it's Klan stuff.”

“ What?” she asked curtly.

“ It's the yoga class....could.....you....ask him not to distribute flyers in town?”

She paused and looked again at him.

“ I know I shouldn't have to ask you this....don't get mad with me....but …. could you please...?”

She peeped into her glass house. Everything was the way it should be. There were no special indications.

“ Okay, I will,” she responded.

“ Thank you, I knew I could count on you,” he said and took off.

As she walked to the ladies section, she viewed her glass house again. It pictured the street in front of the yoga class. There wasn't anybody in sight. No cars on the road.

' What are you saying?' she whispered.

' It's a matter for the higher ups,' the intimation said, ' it is as it should be.'

She picked a horizontal striped tee shirt and beige slacks. ' Nantucket Bay,' she muttered under her breath.

As she tried them on for size she wondered about asking Matthias to accompany her to visit Mike. She so wanted for Mike to think she was getting on with her life.

' No …..” she clamped down on the glass house as it began to picture she and Matthias visiting Mike.

' No glass house with Matt,” she declared.

Chap 5  A Legal Matter

They parked the car in the lot outside the prison. Matt alighted on the passenger side, carrying the case file of Yang.

Alex got out of the car and put on his jacket. He was two years older than Matt and slightly heavier. They had been partners for five years now and  had an intuitive nose for each other's ways. It was a team spirit they had cultivated through the cases they worked on, as if each crime and criminal represented a passion that they shared, with a carefully crafted sense of detachment.

Yang's case had thrown them into an encounter with the furnace of the dammed. It caused them some anxiety despite their detachment.

When Matt mentioned Sara's suggestion about Yang, Alex had been enthusiastic but it waned slowly when they discussed the approach they would take on the interrogation. Matt brought a cool detached view of the situation, as if he was a surgeon discussing procedures. Alex seemed to be grappling with issues he did not bring out into the open and Matt was left feeling like a king of the hill where only fools would dare to tread.

It exposed Matt to a greater responsibility and it irked him. After five years he was starting to feel some pressure on their team spirit.

They passed through the outer gates and made their way to the holding cell block and then to the interrogation room.

Yang was brought in and handcuffed to the hook on the table. His lawyer joined them.

Matt stood by the wall while Alex began the session. He took out a picture of a Jesuit priest being tortured by the emperor's guards in 18th century Vietnam. It was a picture they took off the wall in Yang's room. Alex placed it in front of Yang.

“Relevance?” inquired the lawyer.

“We'll establish relevance,” replied Alex. Then he turned to Yang. “ Can you tell us why he was being tortured?”

Yang viewed the picture. A faint recollection met his eyes. He smiled and then turned to look at Alex.

“ His teaching was not suitable for us.”

“Why?”

Yang paused then replied.

“ He said you have to die and be born again.”

Alex raised his eyebrows and responded,

“Why would that be wrong?”

Yang clamped up and didn't seem to want to answer. He looked at his lawyer. Matt observed the manner that had arisen in Yang and found himself relating to it.

“ Because nobody would believe you,” he offered. His voice was warm.

“ Gentlemen,” his lawyer protested, but before he could go on, Alex cut in.

“You want to plead diminished capacity, we want to let you do that....and if we satisfy ourselves that its so, you sail through the court and onto an asylum. No hassle from us.”

The lawyer considered it, then turned to his client,

“ In your own words, Yang. Just say what it is.”

Yang turned to Alex.

“ Because the world is already perfect. We are all born perfect.”

Matt took over from Alex at the table. 

“ What made it imperfect?” he asked.

He turned to his lawyer again who stayed motionless. He had the look of a person who was facing a catharsis. He seemed to bend to the will of the inevitable. He sighed deeply.

“ When your people came to war with us we thought we were going to die. But we won. You are the biggest army in the whole world and we won..... “

“ No more questions gentlemen,” his lawyer interrupted. 

Alex tried to protest but Matt held him back.

“ I got it,” he whispered to Alex.

The guard led Yang away. The lawyer looked at them suspiciously. Then he asked,

“ Have you made a determination?”

“ He was brought here by his cousin's family. This is a nation his people defeated. He's not doing well in college, his grades are weak and he figures he is losing face to a people he had defeated. He quarrels with his cousin about coming here. They joke about it. Manslaughter not amounting to murder.”

“You have to prove it,” the lawyer replied.

“ On the stand counselor, in court,” Matt replied.

On the way to the parking lot, Alex went over the event out loud.

“ The kid must have thought he owned the world. So he bashes his cousin, the brother interferes and he bashes the brother. Now he has nowhere to go. He comes out of the room, sees the father and kaboom, mother kaboom. Then he feels sorry for the life of little sister because she has no idea what's in store in the future...kaboom.”

They walked out of the prison and to the car, two men united by the passions they encounter in their work. A shared view of humanity to which only they hold the key to its understanding. Where one of them faces a tragedy, the other will lose all sense of understanding he held of the world. One man's truth is reflected by another.

Chap 6  A Friend

Matt and Alex finished the report on the investigation and submitted it to the Captain. Matt took the rest of the day off and drove to Hill Drive. Along the way, he picked up a six-pack.

It made sense to do the work he is doing, he figured. In Iraq someone else pulled the strings on what's right and wrong and all he had to do was pull the trigger. In law enforcement, he found a more personal aspect of the experience of justice. It put him on the spot of analyzing and making the decisions he had to, based on the guidelines.

He thought of his mother and figured that she would prefer the Iraq approach. As he viewed his experiences on both sides of law and order, he found the Iraq side still full of questions. His JPD experience was clear cut and straight.

It was much the same way with his mother. He thought it was what affected the relations he formed with women.

He turned into a side road when he was close to the hilltop and arrived at the look-out spot overlooking the city of Jefferson. From here, one saw the entire city and the homes surrounding it. It gave him a perspective. It also helped him to think, especially where he had to dismiss something that he found disagreeable.

He broke open a can and took a long, cool gulp.

His thoughts went to the eagle insignia he used to wear that formed the identity of his unit in Iraq. But he had liked working for Balckwater. It was the same service, the equipment was more efficient but mostly, the idea of private enterprise held a special nature of greater responsibility, rather than merely obeying orders.

In the marines, he had followed the manual. In Blackwater, they relied on a protocol that each soldier defined for himself and followed to the edge of hell. It was a greater professional nature and allowed for more certainty in matters.

He liked the insignia worn by paramedics. The rod of the Cadeuces. On the one side is the snake of principle and the other the snake of physical activity. Both climb up a staff that can only be defined as the ultimate protocol of life. If one does it well, it flies. The point would be to do it together.

He thought of calling Sara, but dismissed it. Then he picked the cell and called her.

 “ Hi, its Matt,” he said into the cell when she picked up.

“ Hi,” she responded, “ what are you doing?”

“ Sitting here at my thinking tree having a beer,” he replied.

“ Can anyone join you?” she asked.

He was thrown but regained composure.

“ You serious?” he asked.

“ Yeah, “ she replied.

He paused.

“ Are we moving too fast?” she asked as if the question was on his mind.

“ What do you think, Sarge?” he asked.

“ I think we are,” she replied.

“ Come on over then,” he suggested, “ I think I've got the place covered. You can see the enemy coming from ten miles away.”

He felt a little weary as he took out the automatic and placed it in the glove compartment. Then he started on the second beer. She pulled up a short while later.

“ It must be a holiday,” she suggested as she got into the passenger side.

“ Its the place for kids hanging out,” she suggested.

“ I must have missed this,” she added, pulling on a beer can and breaking it open.

They looked out at the cityscape and took a moment to regain their composure.

“ I'm driving down to Willard on the weekend,” she informed. “ Its my godfather, he's a little off.”

“ Is he all right?” he asked.

“Just the usual walk-about, as the Aussies say.  He thinks he's visited by UFOs.”

“ Knew a fella in the force that had the same problem,” he announced. “ Then he joined a nudist camp and got cured.”

She laughed.

“ You're kidding?” she suggested.

“ He said they flew in cylindrical crafts,” said Matt, making himself sound deliberately sure.

“ Yeah I bet,” she responded, realizing that they had wandered into a picnic area for sex.

Then without warning, she blurted,

“ Is your father still around?” She took a gulp from the can.

“ There she goes again,” Matt called.

She suppressed a smile.

“Does it bother you?” she asked.

“Well my mother had worked it into a world contender for sudden outbursts....I'm thinking its the only thing I got going to prevent myself sinking too deep into something....You think you could keep an eye on that for me?”

“Not a problem,” she replied.

“My dad left when I was sixteen. We kept in touch. Then one day he introduced me to to his young Armenian boy friend, with whom he has a once in a blue moon relationship.”

Sara's attention had narrowed. Matt paused.

“ You okay?” she asked.

He nodded.

“ It takes a circus trapeze to deal with some of the issues we got going,” he replied. “ But he opened the door for me.....I know he did it for a reason.....but I can't shut it now.”

Sara pondered deeply.

“ I'm a friend,” she said without emotion.

They reached out to hold hands briefly then withdrew them.

“ By the way, we got to the mat on Yang,” Matt announced. “ I owe you one.”

Chap 7  The Proposal

Florence Quint drove up to Glendale in the northern part of town to visit her brother. As the chauffeur entered the large ornate gates, she spotted Liza on the lawn arranging the table in the gazebo.

“ I'll get off here, Charles,” she motioned to the chauffeur.

“ Very good madam,” Charles replied.

As she alighted from the car, Father Clemens drove through the gates and parked by the lawn. He got out quickly and met her by the lawn.

“Good morning,” she called.

“Good morning Florence,” he replied enthusiastically. “ A bit of god's work today,” he said with a smile.

“Its nice to get an opportunity to do so,” she said, smiling.

They met Liza by the gazebo.

“ Breakfast on the lawn today,” Liza announced as they stepped in. She always spoke as if somebody had commanded her as such.

Arthur hurried over across the lawn and greeted Florence with a kiss and shook hands with the pastor. He kissed Liza on the lips.

“I'm glad you could meet me at such short notice,” Father Clemens offered.

“Always happy to help out,” Arthur replied, “ though I prefer to leave the charity work to Florence. I understand its going to be something big.”

“Shall I serve now, madam?” the chef inquired of Liza.

Liza motioned with her palms at everybody and told the chef to go ahead.

Father Clemens handed a blue folder to Arthur. He turned to the financials and used his index finger to run through the numbers.

“You've seen this?” he asked Florence.

“Yeah, I think it'll be great for the city,” she replied.

  

They tucked in.

“ I think our father might have wanted something like this,” he said to Father Clemens. Then turning to Liza, he handed the folder over with, “ have you seen this honey?”

She took it from him and went over the publicist's drawings and then the financials.

“ It's a bit of the world's experience here in Willard,” the pastor added.

Arthur nodded between spoonfuls of egg and bacon but his eyes were elsewhere.

“ Have you spoken to Travis about it?” he asked Florence.

“Only to Helen. The Ladies' Club is ecstatic, but she might have spoken to him.”

Arthur put down the knife and fork and picked up the coffee.

 “ Well....its the way we have always combined business and aesthetics here in Willard. If Rebecca was here, she'll say we're continuing in the great tradition. In fact this sounds like a proposal from Rebecca and her hippie days.” Rebecca was the oldest among the three.

“She did speak to me,” Florence suggested, but I didn't want to get between the two of you all. So I suggested she speak to Father Clemens.”

“It's a great opportunity for the Catholic Church to cultivate some goodwill in Willard. The initiative today is to get involved with the community and a project to build a tropical greenhouse is an excellent way to make an impact.”

Arthur mused it over. It excited him to find things out for himself, especially when realizing that everything comes in a curve. He turned to look at Liza.

“I'm all for it....it's a bit of the passion of Miami further north. It's plants and flowers we have never seen. It ought to have an impact....” she looked tentatively at Arthur.

Arthur proceeded to explain again.

“Well, Liza wonders how I would negotiate with the city council.” He raised his shoulders. “ Like daddy always said, this is a product oriented country so I might be talking to Travis about the embarcadero project, down by the river. “

Liza smiled.

“ She looks after you well,” said Florence and flashed Liza a smile. Liza smiled back.

It was a rare exchange of affection between the two.  When Arthur divorced his first wife and married Liza, she also took over from the sisters, what she perceived was in Arthur's best interests.

“The city will be grateful,” Father Clemens added, fishing for an indication from Arthur.

Arthur caught the Father's meaning and motioned to respond.

“ We are the architects of our own destiny Father,” he began and groped for the right words. “But this is one of Rebecca's women thing and while it's going to be great for the social experience, it will diminish personal initiative and the entrepreneurial spirit. Now I have great respect for women but Americans rely on the lone risk taker to keep the country going.”

He sipped on his coffee but felt obliged to add.

“The Catholic experience works better in the large cities. People want a greater social experience. Florence would like an opportunity to develop her feminine side but we are not yet encountering the wolf-girl syndrome in our society in Willard and she'll have to work with the idea of the overall good. But I don't want to seem indifferent so I think I might go for a garden, not tropical, but local.”

He turned to Liza.

“It takes a lot to fully develop the feminine side. Most of the time, you don't know what you are doing and it can be havoc on families....”

Florence cut her off.

“We have to be concerned about the children. We are getting school shoot-outs....that says there's something wrong.”

“I agree Flo,” Arthur responded, “ but there must be alternatives. Are mothers raising their kids better in the tropics? It still takes a lot of personal initiative.”

Then turning to the Father, he said,

“ Father, we are a small community here. It's a lot of self help on the part of everyone. We have to decide what's best for us.”

“I understand,” the father replied. “ I think the garden idea is still good.”

He looked at Florence.

“ I guess,” she replied.

Arthur finished his coffee. He knew Florence was not done yet.

Chap 8  Sisters at Heart

Charles turned the Rolls into the driveway and they glided noiselessly through the grove of Oak trees with their long crooked branches and parasitic plants that hung from its frame. The leaves were bright green in the light of the mid-day.

They arrived at the white stucco cottage at the end.

Rebecca stood at the door, her long red hair now mixed with gray. She wore a white cotton blouse on blue faded jeans.

“ He didn't go for it,” Florence announced as she approached the door.

Rebecca motioned with her fingers turned inwards and asked her to go in.

“ You have a bad habit of talking in front of the help,” she chided her as she poured two tall glasses with fruit juice and guided Florence to the back porch.

The house felt cool under the oak trees.

“ Arthur is a 7. That's the birthday character. He cannot be cultivated but is fair the way he views himself and others. Tell yourself we didn't expect to convince him all at once.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Florence as she settled into the wrought iron chair. “ I wish you would tell me these things before hand,” she appealed.

“ I shouldn't,” said Rebecca,” it engages your mind in the play and it won't work out properly.” Then she added, “ besides I'm working to merge with Calliope, that's an important muse. She's all that took place in time before today. And she's very fussy about procedure and learning. Her knowledge needs to be institutionalized in the world.”

“ Yeah, okay,” replied Florence. “ I'm all flushed.”

Rebecca went back into the cottage and returned with a leaf. She handed it to Florence.

“ Just touch your cheeks with that and hold it there for a while.”

Florence brought it to her face and asked, “ What is it?”

“Bryophyllum,” she replied. “ It's great for the complexion. Perks you up.”

She sat down again and reached for her fruit juice.

“Sara's coming in about an hour,” she announced. “ Maybe with  a boyfriend.”

“Tell her to come over here,” Rebecca suggested.

“ She going to visit Mike, then maybe come to the house in the late afternoon.”

“ What's he like?” she asked.

“ Came back from Iraq and is with the Jefferson Police..... speaks well and …. cares about her.”

“ Bi-sexual,” Rebecca announced.

Florence made a face.

“ I dunno,” she said in a whisper.

Rebecca excused herself, picked up the Glock automatic from the table and took a few steps forward into the garden. She aimed at the trees, fired and put down two crows.

“Damm pests!” she said when she returned to the table. “ I'm being hounded by the old fellas who practiced this before. Some of the weirdest tools that they engaged.”

Florence brought the Bryophyllum back to her cheeks.

“I...I....wish you wouldn't do that when I'm around,” she complained. It's wrecking my nervous condition.”

“ Okay, we'll have to plan our next move,” she said. “ Arthur needs to be convinced. It's as simple as that. If he sees the logic in it, even high water will not move him.”

“ I could drive down to Daniel Stowe,” Florence offered. “ They have a green house.”

“Daniel Stowe is an idiot,” she announced summarily. “ It has to be a tropical setting. We're here in 80 degree sub-tropical conditions but we don't get enough humidity. A woman needs that. Tropical plants exude a passion that we can draw into our bodies. They are more evolved.”

“ Well, in that case, I could get a humidifier,” Florence remarked.

“What's doc saying?”

“ It's the early stages....takes the carcinogen six months to fully develop.”

“We got time,” Rebecca announced. “ Stay with the diet I gave you. It'll slow it down. Does the lump move?”

Florence reached for her left breast and squeezed.

“ No,” she responded.

“Okay,” she replied.

“I've a customer coming in at one. You're welcome to stay.”

“No, I have to get back.”

They finished their juice and walked back to the front door.

“ I'll call you,” Rebecca told her.

“Oh, by the way,” Florence suddenly remembered. “ Arthur wants the embarcadero project. He wants to use the garden to trade with Travis.”

“Well, well, well,” Rebecca responded. “ The good lord provides.”

Florence turned back again.

“Why are we Catholics and everybody else is Protestant?” she asked.

“Because Joe Willard I was Catholic and that is why he stipulated in his will that no female child or descendent will manage his wealth.”

“Why is that?” she asked.

“Because his mother crucified him.”

“Oh...right,” Florence replied and handed back the Bryophyllum leaf.

“Keep it,” her sister commanded, then with a wave of her hand, called Charles over to help Florence. She was weak in the knees. Charles supported her arm all the way to the car. Then they turned and left.

Chap 9  The Godfather

Matt parked the SUV on the street. They crossed the street together to the square.

“I still feel the most horrible person for getting you to do this,” protested Sara.

“ I want to do this,” Matt returned, “ And I'm not just saying that. People all over the country are moving to smaller towns and starting over. Its nice to know what that experience is.”

They stood below the statue of Joseph Willard I, Founder, Willard, Country of Williamsburg, South Carolina. Then she turned around and pointed at the 3-storey house.

“It feels like seeing something in real life where you might have just heard of it before,” Matt commented.

Sara laughed.

“Don't get Wizard of Oz with me,” she warned. “ One godfather is more than I can handle.”

Instinctively, he reached out and hugged her. They stood there for a while oblivious to the flow of traffic and people walking past. She cried.

“ I don't know what to say,” he whispered hoarsely.

They held hands crossing the road and returned to the SUV. Mike's place was west of their location. They took the street roads and got there in a few minutes.

“He was a brilliant scholar, held the position of Dean of the Divinity School, USC for twelve years. Sara spoke with enthusiasm as if it was related to what Matt thought about her. Matt figured by that, that it was what she wanted him to view her as. He thought he'll give it a fair shot.

He was boiling water for tea in the kitchen and as he let them in, the kettle set off.

They went into the living room and made themselves comfortable. He came in carrying a tray and set it on the table. It held a tea set and biscuits.

“ You're not from around here,” he said as he sat down, in a voice that rattled the window panes. His eyes were glassy. Matt realized that Sara didn't prepare him for this. It meant that she thought him Mike's equal.

“Pennsylvania,” Matt responded, then diplomatically offered him more. “ My folks worked at the Baldwin Locomotive Company.”

Mike's manner softened instantly.

“It's the railroads that made this town. No doubt driven on Baldwin locomotives.”

“That would be a safe bet,” Mike replied.

“ With the police force now?”

“ Six years,” Matt replied. He was thinking about his father. “ You get enough to do around here?”

“ Some,” he replied.

Matt cut in again, “ Is there much game around here?”

“ Fishing, near the falls but if you wanted big game, there's always the Blue Ridge for that.”

Mike turned to Sara.

“Is Florence okay?”

“Not up to having visitors,” that's the official word. “ She's had a relapse but she said we might drop in tomorrow. But how are you doing?”

They had sat on the sofa together.

He adjusted the crease on his pants before replying, “ I'm holding together. “ Then he shot back. “ You two met long?”

“One and a half weeks,” she replied.

“ That's more than one and a half weeks in my case.” He turned to Matt. “ Love at first sight,” he announced.

“That still happens.” Matt experienced a volitional collaboration. He was beginning to like the old coot.

“I hope so,” the old boy said, “ One moment you are Michael Flanders and then you are prince Valiant.”

Matt laughed.

“ Then all you have to do is protect your princess from the dragon,” he continued. Then he turned to look at Sara and back at Matt. “ What's the matter. You don't believe me?”

Matt took a moment to compose himself and then replied,

“ Its a lovely ideal. If we could only defend ourselves from the claws of the dragon.”

“What's this?” Mike responded, “ not the fire or the thorny tail?”

“I think he means the touch in the relationship,” Sara offered.

Her comment caught Matt off balance. He had to continue feeding his fire, and he had little option with regards to fuel.

“Or the lack of it,” he replied. “ Its a two person job.”

“ Well put knight,” he replied, suddenly revealing a sense of the playful.

Matt had to grip something physical. So he turned to Sara to make it real.

“ Eight years fighting a war of which the real fighting was done the first four years.  I'm telling myself I can't find my way back to the school gym. Then I meet her and I'm wrestling with things fairly well now. It's been a great break.”

Sara mouthed the words, ' You're sweet!'

Mike was silent for a while. Then suddenly bursts forth with,

“Now I'll have something to tell the Aliens!”

Chap 10  A Shoot Out

“We need to talk,” Matt suggested when they left.

“I think I saw that coming,” replied Sara.

He suggested that they get some McDonald's take-away and do it in a park. She agreed.

“You have to take the lead on this,” she proposed. “ It's easier with one person making sense of their experience and the other relating to it.”

“You'll have to tell me whether you are comfortable with it,” he replied.

“You have to include me in your life,” she suggested.

“I can't do this without that,” he said.

The summer sun had relented a little and was low on the horizon. The wind had picked up and blew across the field, where they sat on a bench under a tree. In the distance, the Blue Ridge mountains appeared dark and clumped together without providing a clear view of each tree or branch.

They munched on their hamburgers.

“If it would help,” she offered, “ they say in the MBA program that at thirty-five a man needs to take charge of what he is doing.”

She raised her hand to stop him from responding.

“I just need to say this one thing. It's like a mentor thing. I've had moments like this sitting with my grandad, my father and Mike. It's so....so....so....repetitive.”

They laughed.

“I need to say this,” she began. “ I think you are a natural born fighting man. It frightens me sometimes but I have to deal with it. And I'm not going to do what folks do in our societies. Pretend that there isn't a war on or that some of you who have returned should be made to feel ignored because we don't want fighting talking public.”

She paused. They had stopped eating and left the half chewed burgers in their boxes.

“I think you are a brave man and I think I am want to spend the rest of my life with you. But I believe you want to be clear about this and I want you to be clear about this. ”

She gestured with her palms.

“Here's perilous Pauline wondering where the next crocodile or lion is going to come from. Keep in mind I am a woman....,” he laughed, “ I don't store all of me in a reservoir. Its too small.”

“You said that well....thanks....it helps.” Then after a pause, continued. “There's no manual on this. It's like a Blackwater operation....I'm sorry....did that come out right?”

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she said.

“Some guy in the marines said that if you put your mind to it, you can know what God is. I don't want to do that....not in civilian life....that's a big part of my adjustment.”

“I like that,” she said.

“If you can handle that without thinking less of me it would be a great help.”

“I think I can relate to that,” she replied.

He continued.

“You're right about the MBA program. Life starts at thirty-five and ready or not, you have to take charge.”

She moved her body to face the field.

“What's the matter?” he asked.

“I just realized how much I'm like my mother.”

“Why? What's your mother like?”

“She hates having someone agree with her. She always said it felt like someone was patronizing her.”

“Only if you think they are at a theater,” he replied.

She smiled.

“I'm not a theater,” she mocked an anger.

“I need to say something about Mike,” he suggested.

She gestured for him to continue.

“I can't have you roping me into thinking he's good and so forth. The man's a flake. I'll appreciate if you don't bring him up again.”

“You're adjusting to civilian life and he's in civilian life making believe he's in a war.” She said it like she was reading it.

“That's it,” he affirmed.

She turned back to him. She just nodded gently but didn't say anything.

“If you mean that I'll buy you a beer,” he offered.

“You got a deal,” she replied.

Her cell rang when they reached the SUV. It was Rebecca.

“I hope I'm not interrupting anything?” she asked.

“Yes you are,” Sara replied.

“Listen if you kids are serious about your relationship you have to perform a shalom ritual.” She described it quickly.

“Yeah okay,” replied Sara and hung up.

They got a bottle of Jack Daniel and found a motel near the railway station. She told him about the ritual and said she needed to do it.

He agreed, with the comment, “ I sorted it out my way...you do yours.”

She told him to sit at the edge of the bed. Then she put a shawl over her head and with both hands touched his shoulders and brought it to her chest. She did it three times fully focused as to meaning.

He said he wanted to do it too and followed the steps.

They drank the whole bottle and were consumed by a deep exhaustion. They fell asleep in each other's arms.

Chap 11 Swastika Blues

“Good morning,” Sara called in the morning.

He got out of bed and planted a kiss on her cheek and went into the bathroom.

“That good huh?” she called after him.

As they loaded their bags into the SUV, he became distant, before saying,

“ Sara, I think I have too many things on my plate. Can I take a rain check on meeting your mom?”

“ It's okay,” she said tentatively, “ I just thought we are here.....so I built an expectation.”

“We'll have to come back again,” he replied.

They slid into their seats.

“My mother ….. ,” but she stopped. Then suddenly said, “ I like the fact that you deal with things. My godfather has been sooo...pre-occupying me my entire adulthood.....I feel like the light is brighter today. Tom, my first husband got along with him great and I thought....I dunno what I thought.”

She leaned over and they kissed.

“Where will you be at?” she asked as the SUV made traffic.”

“Is there a pistol range in town?”

“On Myrtle and Hill, North,” she replied.

They came back to town center and he dropped her in front of the house, under the watchful gaze of Joe Willard I.

Florence was having breakfast in the dining room. Doc was out visiting a patient.

They spent the morning catching up on stories. Florence told her about Arthur and the conservatory project.

After breakfast, Sara walked over to the pool area and called Krish. She had to tell him about the flyers.

He wasn't answering the cell phone.

She called Akron, another student at the center and inquired about Krish.

“The center will be closed for a while,” Akron replied. “The place has been thrashed and someone put swastika signs on the walls.”

Sara caught her breath and stared in front of her.

“What happened?” she asked again.

“Well, the police were there the entire afternoon, picking up clues. They talked to passers-by and been trying to get some information but so far they don't have much.”

“How's Krish? Is he injured or anything?”

“ As far as I can tell, Krish is fine.”

“Why can't I get him on the cell phone?”

“Thrashed,” replied Akron.

“But if you want to talk to him now, he's having a  bath.”

“What? Where?....” Sara uttered sharply.

“In the bathroom, in my house.”

“His wife?”

“She's gone and left him. He thinks maybe she might have thrashed the place. Bad temper, is what Krish said.”

“She's gone?” Sara asked.

“She's gone,” came the reply.

“So..... ,” Sara couldn't bring herself to focus.

“The police are investigating both possibilities. Krish thinks she's gone to her sister's place in Yuma, Arizona.”

“Okay, tell him I called,” she said and hung up.

She then quickly dialed Randolph.

“No way,” he said. “ I'm in Raleigh, with a load. After that I'm off to Richmond. Did you say they painted swastika signs on the walls?”

“ In red paint,” she said.

Randolph's laughter blared on the cell.

“Sister,” he called her, “ we haven't done anything like that since '73. I dunno what this is about but you  ought to talk to your yoga master again.”

She hung up and was in quite a state of consternation at the events.

She called up Matt. He answered the phone but told her to hold. She could hear the sound of gun shots in the background. Then he answered.

“How's it going?” she asked.

“Practice makes perfect,” he replied. “ How are you doing?”

“Too many things on my plate,” she answered. “ I just needed to hear your voice.”

“Honey, if something's wrong, I can wrap it up here.”

“No, No,” she responded. Then breathed a deep sigh. “I'm dealing with things and then I'm dealing with things,” she said.

There was a pause.

“Sweetheart, you're coming here to shoot,” he replied.

“I can't,” she said, “ I don't really know how.”

“You've got one of the finest as your teacher. I'll explain how it helps.”

She felt a quick change of heart.

“I think I'm falling in love with you,” she said.

“Don't you dare stop,” he replied.

Chap 12  The Epiphany

As they joined traffic on the highway, the local station  played the song  ' Killing me softly with his song ' on the radio.

“When I first heard this, I wasn't sure what it meant,” Sara recalled. She looked flushed in the face after the shooting practice.

The cell rang. She looked at it. It was Rebecca. She switched it off.

Matthias, at the wheel, gave her a curious look.

“Rebecca,” she replied. “ Not now. I'll call her later.”

They drove in silence for a while. Matt was suddenly brought into recalling an incident in Basrah, Iraq when he saved the life of British soldier. He had received the medal of honor.

“An off the wall question?” she suggested.

“Go ahead sarge,” he replied.

She giggled before asking,

“I've this colleague in college. Very in charge kind of person. She said she took one in the back one time....where the sun don't shine....and she became more confident and had better self control. You think there's anything to it?”

“I heard that from a British soldier in Basrah. My unit was there for a joint operation. He was gay and then decided he didn't like it. He says its an inordinate pride that comes from openly displaying the feminine aspect of a male. It might be some of that. But I think you need to look at it and help yourself understand, otherwise it'll go down the wash.”

“Oh yeah,” she intoned. “ I'm thinking I might go for it once,” she started....and then as if responding to his protests added, “ It's the phallic and anal phase in children when they are about three. I just can't figure how it grew into a gay pride this way.”

Matt raised his brows.

“It's child like in some way, but at some point it stops being fun.”

“Would you do it for me?” she asked.

He smiled faintly.

“I don't think so,” he replied. But added, “ But I don't think I'll have a problem if you do that with some one else.”

Sara was reminded of their first encounter when she had thought that he and Krish had a thing.

“The last of the liberal Americans,” she announced.

He stayed quiet.

“Well, would you do one up front with a gal who's just come from a shooting practice?”

He laughed.

“Well I've been sitting here thinking about a suave way to say that,” he said.

“I'll pass on suave. Just give me sexy.”

He realized just then that she wanted him to ask her.

“I'm a little full of myself and I'm not sure if I'm even trying to keep it down. But something in me would like to get up and crow all the way to liberty bell.”

“I might want to join you,” she added.

The sun was setting by the time they found a motel by the side of the highway. They had stopped at a McDonald's drive through for some burgers.

The sound of the traffic on the highway droned and bounced off the surrounding hills, drowning out and filling in every thought and sensation. Once in a while there was a horn from a truck that implied some impropriety in the way the traffic was conducting its affairs. Or maybe the trucker was horning at a pal on another truck, going in the opposite direction.

They were oblivious to it all. For a moment they were lost in each other, engaging in an act of togetherness that neither one of them was awake to witness.

When he rose, he lit up two cigarettes and offered one to her.

“I know what you are thinking,” she said with a touch of mystery.

“And what's that?” he asked.

“Are you back in the school gym?”

He thought about it and then added,

“I might.”

He came over to where she lay covered in the sheet and kissed her warmly.

They returned to the traffic. It had got dark and the cars had their lights on. Matt felt a curious sense of relation to the road ahead of them. It was as if he was in intimate relation to every sound. He had felt that way in Iraq, before he took a sniper's bullet in the shoulder.

“What does this tee shirt remind you of?” she asked suddenly.

“A summer's day on Martha's vineyard,” he replied.

“That's what I thought,” she said. “ Nantucket Bay.”

Chap 13  A Testimony

Charles turned the rolls into the driveway. The grove of oak trees, twisted in the sub-tropical weather, held a shade for him as if he was being honored.

He stopped at the cottage and opened the back door to take out the packages for Rebecca. She came out of the cottage to help him.

“You could take the clothes,” he suggested. “I'll take these,” he said, referring to the food packages.

“Charles, do you have a minute?” Rebecca asked.

“Certainly, miss,” he replied as he accompanied her into the cottage. He thought it was the usual repair job that she needed. But it was different this time.

Rebecca lived the life of a recluse. Her sister sent her food everyday, laundered her clothes and even shopped for stuff she needed. She had walked away from the family when young and remained a spinster, isolated from everyone. It was Florence who kept an eye out for her, let her stay at the cottage they bought and took care of her.

She motioned Charles to the table at the back porch.

“Is something the matter, miss?” he asked.

“Charles, how long have you worked for us?”

“Four years madam, until last jun.”

“I don't mean to pry, but Florence is ill and we are trying to help her.”

“I might have known of that, miss,” he replied.

“We are having problems with Arthur because he wouldn't approve about US14 million for something that we need.”

“That might be the tropical greenhouse, miss?” he asked with a trace of the Irish accent.

“You're well informed Charles,” she replied.

Charles seemed perceptive about what Rebecca may be about. His next remark surprised her.

“I'm not about keeping anything a secret, miss. If there was something you need to know, just fire away and I'll give you the most honest answer that I can manage.”

“I want to know whether you have been leaking information to Arthur about Florence and our project,” she asked, looking very serious.

Charles nodded with understanding. He took another a while to consider several other issues, before replying.

“May I be candid?” he asked.

“Certainly,” she responded.

“It was I who told Florence to create some exposure to tropical conditions and plants.” He saw the surprise on Rebecca's face but ignored it. “But she can't move to Florida because she has an obligation to stay in this town as the family of the founders. I must say I cultivated a profound respect for her on account of that.”

Rebecca was starting to frown a little but kept her surprise in check.

“Florence was all set on the surgery, but has been checking out what I told her through Sara in Jefferson. There's a tropical conservatory there.”

He paused to make sure Sara was following the story.

“Sara thought it was great experience that way. The simple premise of it is that a tropical forest is lush and it brings a wonderful compliment to a woman in her experiences of her body and health. It creates a greater relation to the earth and a greater stability in her personality.”

“Are you French?” Rebecca asked.

“My father is Tamil, from India and my mother is Irish. They met in England and migrated to the US. I was born here. I worked for some years with the office of UNESCO in Paris, which explains the slight French accent.”

“So we are not going to have any problems from you regarding the project?” she asked.

“None that I can think of,” replied Charles.

“But you have been talking to Arthur on issues?” she asked again.

“Arthur is a great chap. He is an experience of intellectualism that is founded on innocence.....or purity.....if you will. It's like pure science.....you'll have to work at applying it to life. Mike, Mike Gardener suggested that I help him in some way.”

“You know Mike then.”

“Yes, for some years now. I used to live in Los Angeles, but after my wife passed on, I was looking for something to do and got in touch with my old friend. Mike had done a P hD and was in the Divinity School in USC. He spoke to doc and recommended me for the job.”

“Yeah, okay,” said Rebecca. “ I appreciate your frankness.”

“Thank you, miss,” replied Charles.

They rose from the table.

“Madam wanted to know if you have anymore of the Bryophyllum leaves?” he inquired.

Sara went to the refrigerator and took out one leaf and put it in a zip lock plastic.

“I'm only letting her have one,” she said. “I'll send her one each week. She can't..... ,” she trailed off.

“Her body chemistry will destroy the active content. Yours preserves it.” He spoke matter-of-factly.

She looked at him with a surprise that she didn't hide.

“I've since been learning a thing or two about plants,” he suggested.

“Well....okay. Tell her I'll call her.”

Charles got into the Rolls, turned on the ignition and started the car down the grove.

Chap 14  A Cultural Matter

Krishnan sat in the interrogation room and waited for the detectives to commence questioning. Frank and Herbert from  Public and Domestic Disturbance handled the investigation.

“Mr. Krishnan,” Frank began, “ we have two possible suspects for the destruction of property at your yoga center. At this point, we simply want to establish the most likely of the two....for our further investigation.”

“I understand,” Krishnan replied.

“We have a recorded statement from the local chapter of the Klan denying any involvement in the said incident. What we would like to establish now is any evidence or information regarding your wife and her possible part in the same incident.”

“I understand,” replied Krishnan.

“Have the two of you been having any problems lately?” Frank asked.

“The usual issues,” Krishnan replied, “ no more than any other family.”

“Was there anything in particular recently?” he asked.

“Not particularly,”  Krishnan replied. Then seeing the look of frustration on Frank, he added,” Indians say they are a thousand things between a man and his wife, meaning a person cannot know them all or fully come to discern all the issues. It is a matter of privacy between man and wife and comes out quite meaningless to anybody else.”

“Go on,” Frank suggested.

“Well, it is a matter of individual pride that is related to the sexual function. Our laws  suggests that a man and a woman are equal but the congressional laws do not legislate the sexual relations and its associated characteristics in a relationship, whether that is high or low. Hence the sexual partners create their own rules in a relationship.”

“Okay,” said Frank with anticipation.

“In such a event, the individual is fully responsible for maintaining their own in a relationship. It is a primal force and relates as much to the nature of the individual as an animal.”

He paused to collate his thoughts and then continued.

“It's inevitable in such a situation for one individual in the relationship to take the lead and preserve the the other partner in the relationship. Mesa, comes from a background that is highly cultivated in this regard. Her people from the south had a highly evolved culture before the founding of America. In many ways it shares a common heritage with the Indians.”

 He continued.

“Yoga, is an Indian instrument that regulates the mind and will of the individual. In her culture it is the epistemology of the iron butterfly. When we met I found that we complimented each other but later my yoga practice, together with my human nature came to emphasize the relation to the physical phenomenon of the world. Her practice continues on the basis of a universal precept. She resisted any attempt on my part, the way she saw it, as influencing her own personal beliefs.”

He groped for a specific analogy.

“A common complaint among couples it the way an individual continues with the universal attitude of Cepheus, the King or Cassiopeia, the queen. It is the quality that we sacrifice in ourselves in the imperative of the human condition. But when a person first comes to do that, they experience a fall and find in their common man nature an experience of insignificance in relation to all else. But that is the beginning. It takes some culturing to raise that to some significance in the human practice.”

He paused for breath.

“She couldn't continue with it any longer. It became too stressful, but in giving it up an individual feels hypocritical and bigoted in their attitudes. That's like saying others are not capable of a great many things when we ourselves cannot achieve the same.”

Frank and Herbert had grown very attentive.

“About three days ago, the straw finally broke the camel's back. She said she couldn't put up with listening to my voice any longer. I reminded her that her training involved giving up her heart to the sun god, which fortunately, they undertake as a metaphorical experience today.”

“It's a submission,” said Frank.

“Everyone submits to the sun god,” responded Krishnan. “It is the nature of our will in relation to physical reality. But frankly, I don't think her problem is with me. It's political, in relation to the American experience. You folks need a better cultural response to the issues. I couldn't reach her, even with a personal relationship.”

He looked at Herbert.

“There's an Indian temple in Yuma with American novice priests. I made a consecration to the deity there and asked them to help her. She's somewhat troubled.”

“We' asked the Yuma police to talk to her. They're probably doing it about now. I take it you will not be pressing charges?”

“No, that won't be necessary. The law cannot provide satisfaction in these areas. The individual must live and realize his just responsibility.”

“Okay,” Frank continued, “ do you have any problems with any of your students?”

“Not tht I know of,” he replied.

“That's just fine Mr. Krishnan. If you could wait outside for a while we'll have a statement for you to sign.”

As Krishnan rose, Frank suddenly asked,

“By the way, we understand you are staying with Akron Foley. Akron is with our traffic division. Are you guys having a gay relationship?”

“Akron is one of my students,” Krishnan replied. “ He's helping me out for a while but no, we don't have a gay relationship. His mother left, so I figured its something of a mutual benefit. I need a place to stay and he needs the company.”

“The father left about six years ago. Now she left the son and went back to the husband.” He spoke to Herbert.

Krishnan sat on the bench in the squad room and lapsed into a meditative seance. He pondered on his karma. The Indian Vaisnavite practice continued to owe debts to the Mayan people of Mexico, he determined.  In the meantime, the Jefferson public was making specific complaints on issues.

Chap 15  On the Beach

The sea breeze blew into the land, bringing a cool touch to the hot July day. Charles returned with some fruit cocktails and set it on the table.

The sound of bathers frolicking in the sea reached their ears as they sipped on their cocktails.

“That was a great ceremony yesterday,” Mike said rhetorically.

“Sure was,” Charles agreed.

“She had a dream about it?” he asked.

“Well, the chef said it was a vision of some kind,” he replied.

“Love's rest,” Mike intoned, “ Only Florence..... ,” then he stopped abruptly.

Some of the sun bathers were leaving the deck chairs.

“It's a great idea,” Charles protested, “ right there in front of Joe Willard, two royal palms with a bench below. It's a sign of something but I can't seem to make out what it is. But a town like Willard needs that.”

“It was a great speech though, about the lives of the future generation.”

“It was cool,” Charles agreed.

They sipped on their cocktails.

“What's Matt like?” Charles asked.

Mike raised his brows in dismissal.

“Would have flunked the SEALS, but this guy finishes his tour of duty and then gets into Blackwater and does some more.”

“Gung ho,” Charles suggested.

Mike looked out at the water but didn't say anything.

“So you like him?” Charles asked.

Mike turned to glare at Charles.

“I swear Charles, one of these days I am going to shoot you,” he said.

“But he's good for Sara,” Charles pressed on.

“The man has balls. I'll say that for him.” He paused momentarily. “ I think he's getting to do it where I might have failed.”

“The completion,” Charles suggested.

“I couldn't. In retrospect I shouldn't have taken that position in USC, but I've gone through all these and then I'm not actually dazzling people with what I know?” he said in the double negative. “God dammit!” he said with mock rage.

“It was one or the other, Mike,” replied Charles, “you made your choice. What difference does it make? You'll just come back and do it right.”

“I think they are getting it on great.”

“Sara has a great head on her shoulders,” Charles suggested. “It's the new generation....you know how they got it set up? Kid gets to 16, says he's gay. Father and mother go into therapy....that's it, the kid is home free. You and I had to fight it to get out.”

Mike bursts out laughing, then suddenly stopped.

A tall blond walked past the table they were sitting, her tits danced like water balloons. They smiled. She smiled back.

“Ski slope,” they both said it at once.

“I don't care what they say about nudists' camps,” Charles suggested, “ it's still the best place to see tits.”

“So what's new on Gangothri?” Charles asked, changing the subject.

“They're hanging him next week,” Mike replied.

“Oh yeah,” Charles said with mild sarcasm, “ and the week after that.”

“He's a little scared,” Mike said protectively.

“Mike, my boy, listen to your father, “ Charles said firmly. “ Drop that bag of potatoes right now! He had the best opportunity to get it right. If he failed he was going to get hung. What does he do? He screws it up.”

“Can't say I understand that about him,” Mike said in agreement.

“It's your child,” Charles suggested. “ You have to learn to deal with it.”

“Aye, aye, captain,” Mike replied. They clinked glasses.

A short while later, they left, took a bath, dressed up and made for the parking lot.

Charles mentioned the tropical conservatory project to Mike.

“Anything we can do?” he asked.

“Short of kidnapping Arthur and getting 14 million from the family?”

“Something more reasonable,” suggested Mike.

“Get him into a gay position and threaten to expose him,” suggested Charles. “It's sodomy in South Carolina.”

“That might work,” suggested Mike, as he turned the car onto the driveway.

“There's a catch,” Charles suggested. “ Rebecca.”

“Get Rebecca to do it?”

“ I raised an oaf,” moaned Charles.

“Okay, okay,” Mike withdrew. “Get Rebecca to do the entire ops.”

Charles looked at him with a blank expression but didn't say anything.

“I might still do my completion,” Mike said smiling. “ Son-of-a-gun, it was staring me in the face.”

Chap 16  A Shot in the Dark

They waited for their table and were ushered to one a few minutes later.

“You've come to a decision yet?” asked Matt, when they were seated.

“I dunno, you haven't asked me,” she pouted.

“That's quite funny,” replied Matt.

She smiled, appearing entirely pleased with herself.

“Here's where I make a psychology program work for me,” she announced. “ I spoke to Krish, my colleague at the college and did some intensive research. It's quite a maze of facts to shift through but I think I've got it.”

They placed their orders and returned to the conversation.

“ I need you to guide me through it,” she suggested.

“You got it,” he replied.

“By all accounts, a girl taking a shot in the back will develop a male syndrome....that's a complex nature of qualities, like a yoga, that brings in several perceived aspects of the male. It brings her into a peculiar male quality that views everyone as equal. It's an element of true love but it's narcissistic.”

“That comes close to the male idea,” Matt responded.

“Okay, but there's a problem. It cuts off her contact with the body and experiences an ' all mind ' situation, great for logic, business and …. fighting wars.”

“I'm thinking Amazon,” Matt replied.

She made a face.

“You could be right.”

Then continued.

“There's something else. If she's going to have kids, it will cause a contradiction in her personality and she can only relate to her children as an extension of herself.”

“The narcissus,” Matt suggested.

Their food arrived and they dug in.

“Krish referred to some old books and advised me to take a laxative, then a mild onion and garlic soup before getting started. And get this....a vegetarian diet one week in advance because the whole act is animalistic, drawing on our primal bodily instincts.”

“He's suggesting that it be ritualized....ceremonial....so the body is made cognizant of a special need and not a carnal nature of expression.” Matt was in close contact with her comments.

She nodded.

Her cell rang. She looked at it and realized that it was Rebecca.

“I'm with Matt,” she said, then, “ okay,” and hung up.

“Thanks,” Matt, whispered.

“So,” she continued, “there's so much more. It also involves you.”

“I won't,” he declared.

“There's no insertion,” she said. “It's back to back and I get to jerk off....you'll have to go public somewhere and jerk off in some bush.”

“Now, you've got me curious,” he remarked.

“I know what you are thinking,” she joked. “ We'll talk about it again some other time.”

“You read my mind,” he replied.

They finished lunch and strolled on the pedestrian mall outside.

“Why don't you call Rebecca,” he suggested, “ I'll need to catch a smoke.”

“Okay,” she said and dialed on her cell.

“I've got it all worked out,” Rebecca suggested.

“Got what worked out?” Sara asked.

“How we are going to get 14 mil. from Arthur.”

“How?”

“Arthur likes reports. Could you prepare a psychological report about a woman's propensity for a worldly experience and how that might include tropical plants?”

“And that is going to convince him?” Sara asked.

“It's worth a try,” suggested Rebecca.

“I'll look into it,” replied Sara and hung up.

She turned around to see Matt next to her saying,

“I've got to go.” He put his fingers out like a pistol.

“Oh, okay, “ she called back.

“You'll be all right?”

“I'm fine. Go!”

She walked into the parking lot, got her car from the valet and drove into the street. She wondered about being with Matt and suddenly being on her own. It produced a warm feeling of independence and togetherness. It might be coming together, she thought.

Chap 17  A Death in the Night

Alex was already at the location when Matt drew up. He placed the JPD star in his jacket pocket and went into the house. The coroner's staff were tracing and recording the evidence.

“Single bullet entry at the back of the head....9 mm, shell casing on the bed. Victim was under sedation of some kind, there's a syringe on the night stand. Coroner says its probably morphine based. No signs of struggle.” Alex filled in.

He passed the wallet to Matt.  Matt mentally followed the rehearsed steps on the manual.

' Male, Caucasian, age 45, address, ht., wt. and North Carolina driving license.'

He picked out a name card. It mentioned his name as Trent Crockett.

“We called up his workplace. Is an attorney at  Schumburg & Lawrence. We called up and spoke to one of the partners. He's supposed to be on his vacation and guess what....,” he gestured at the plaques on the wall, “ our friend is also a CPA and....,” he said it with some emphasis, ' is an assistant pastor at the Lutheran Church, on main. My man's stellar.”

“Time of death?” asked Matt.

The coroner's staff member looked up.

“Best we can tell, early morning,” he said.

“Anonymous call came in at 12.30 noon, “ Alex said, walking to the door. “Take a look at this,” he called.

“Hang on a second,” Matt replied and went back to the bed to take a good look at the face up close. Something Sara had said about everybody being loved by someone. It had given Matt a clear cognition of faces.

He looked at the hair, eyes and features. He pictured him alive and felt a curious sense of loss of an intelligent man of faith.

He told the coroner to bag the body and followed Alex to the next room. It was a study. On the computer screen was a letter the victim had composed to a friend but had not sent it. It was a brief note.

It said,

' Hi,

Just a short note to say I regret what happened between us. In retrospect, we should have kept up the communication. It's a new world and new ways and darling, I screwed up, I couldn't adapt.'

“Why didn't he send it?” Alex asked.

“The killer?..,” Charles offered, then turned to the coroner's staff, “ are you done in here?”

“All done,” came the reply.

 “Entry signs?” he asked Alex as he sat on the chair.

“Checking now,” Alex said and left.

Matt printed the letter and checked the victim's contacts. He printed out all contacts.

Alex came back in.

“Neighbor says he came back last night at about 8.00 pm with a brunette about 5' 8”, 160 lbs, but says it was brief, didn't pay too much attention, so can't remember the face.”

Matt got up, walked into the kitchen and checked the garbage. Then he took out a zip lock and picked up with his gloved hand a phial of Oxycontin. The packaging lay next to it and he bagged that too.

“She left it for us to find?” he asked.

“She's sending us a message, “ Matt rose. “ Check the house for more clues. Take down pictures, behind the fridge, everything.”

They combed the entire one floor house carefully.

“Any ideas what we are looking for?” Alex asked after a while. There was nothing behind the pictures.

“You'll know it when you see it,” Matt replied.

The living room had a bureau with a counter. On the counter were some family photos of the victim, a wife, daughter and son. Next to it were some porcelain items....a cottage, a dog and a petite lady. The price tag on the lady was still fresh.

Matt walked back to the kitchen garbage and checked it again. There was some junk mail, chocolate wrappers and bills. He picked up the bills and checked the dates. There was one from Milly's Gifts at the mall. It was dated the previous day. It contained a product code and the price was US 15.00. He picked it up, then went back to the living room.

The porcelain doll was US 15.00. He bagged both of them. Then as an after thought, he went back again to the garbage. This time, he picked up the chocolate wrappers and smelled it. It had a fresh scent. It was a bar of Hershey's wafers. He bagged the wrapper.

Alex called from the bedroom. He went there and showed him the bags.

“Is this anything?” he asked and pointed at the back wall of the closet.

There were two wavy lines and something that looked like an outline of a rocket, pointing upwards, drawn with a pencil.

“Photograph it,” he suggested.

There was nothing else and they were feeling a little of a wild chase. They stopped.

It was evening when they came out. Some curious onlookers were still hanging about. Cars slowed down to take a look. They sealed the house with a note from the department and walked to their cars.

Matt lit up a cigarette.

“You first,” he suggested.

“Picked up a maniacal broad who didn't like her father and is bumping off middle aged men.”

“A dissatisfied client from the law firm.” Matt added.

“A victimized parishioner.”

“What did he do with a CPA?”

They paused but had nothing.

“Nature of the murder,” suggested Matt.

“How about one for old times sake darling and then needle into arm?”

“How about, you know what you did was wrong, Trent darling. I have suffered loss. Now its only fair that you do too. What do you say? It won't hurt.”

“Reason for messages?” suggested Alex.

“I have done nothing wrong. This is justice in the eyes of god.”

“You've been in the marines too long,” commented Alex.

“What did you mean by ' My main man stellar?'” Matt asked.

“It's Black talk. My main man who can do anything and everything.”

They got into their cars and went back to the station.

Chap  18  Pre-meditation

A classic attitude among Americans is the fact that their laws apply to everyone in the world. This of course is to mix the legal system with the laws of nature. While this may be found to be misguided, the opposite is experienced as being true i.e. the laws of nature apply to everyone in the world, including Americans.

Matthias and Alex had encountered  a crime in which the perpetrator appears to have committed with deliberation and clear mens reas. However, the suspect appeared to believe and undertake the crime in a staunch experience of natural justice that it represented.

“If that's correct,” Sara had commented, “ you will not find her. She appears to have been denied justice in regards to her rights. Therefore she has applied herself, in good conscience, to the service of justice. Where we perceive such a breakdown in justice we will surely cultivate the conditions for anarchy of the mind.”

Matt placed a request with the Stanton Police Dept. in Oklahoma  to find the victim's family at the address in the license or where they may be at this time.

A check at Milly's gifts, with the clerk there, produced some help. She had sold it to a middle-aged lady, graying hair, about 5' 8”, 160 lbs. When they had produced the family's photographs the clerk had been unable to identify positively, because they were younger. They had asked te clerk to work with the police sketch artist to create a semblance.

A check with the pharmacies in town turned up a load of work. OxyContin was a growing prescription drug and Alex went through every one of them for prescriptions provided on the day of the murder and before. It produced a list of 31 people that they would have to track down. Of these, 5 people were with the Lutheran Church on main. And additional 2 people had used the services of Schumburg & Lawrence, where the victim had acted as legal attorney.

The coroner's report confirmed their earlier findings. The victim had a dinner of beef, potatoes and coffee. There was no report of chocolates. There was alcohol content in the blood. The OxyContin was administered by injection in an excessive dosage and had caused numbness in the individual before he had passed out. The perpetrator had shot him behind the head from 2 feet away. Death was by gunshot wound. Time of death was 3.05 am.

Fingerprints at the site belonged to the victim. There was none other.

When the artist sketch was completed they faxed a copy to Stanton and the Oklahoma State Police. Another copy was sent to the the South Carolina State Police with copies to every police station in the state.

A search of signs and symbols on the internet produced several possibilities. Matt concluded eventually that it was a fish swimming upstream. That had to be a trout or salmon.  It implied that the individual faced a strenuous uphill task.

A check on the internet produced the IPO addresses of the contacts. The service provider supplied the names and addresses of the subscribers.

The letter the victim wrote was to an address in Anchorage, Alaska. It was registered to one Martin Bierstadt. Matt faxed a copy of the artist sketch to the Anchorage Police dept. with his request. He looked up Bierstadt and called the number.

The response was couched in a silky bordering on raspy voice, like a singer. Matt introduced himself and filled in on the events.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he replied. “ We haven't had any contact with each other for almost 15 years,” he replied. “We broke …..we were high school buddies....but we broke with each other and have not communicated in anyway.”

“What was the break about?” Matt asked.

He hesitated for a while then replied,

“We were in love with the same person. She married him. I moved to Alaska.”

“Have you been in contact with his wife?” he asked.

“No,” came the reply.

“Can I ask you for her name?”

“Is she a suspect?”

“Yes.”

He hesitated again, then said,

“I can't help you officer,” he replied.

“Very well,” Matt replied. “ Where were you on the night of the 15^th?”

“ I do a nightly.....I'm a singer. I perform at the ' Friends of Joni,' its a night club. On the 15^th. I was working until 1.00 am.”

He gave Matt the number.

“Do you have any reason to believe that your life is in danger?”

“No officer,” he replied.

They hung up.

He looked across at Alex.

“According to the pastor at the Lutheran, he was a great guy, an example of faith. Its a new policy to train professionals for the priesthood and engage their experiences to relate to that of the church.”

“The pharmacy list?”

“I spoke to the 7 who came into contact with him. No apparent complaints. Sounds pretty straight.”

“She's got to be on the remaining customer list. What's the lawyer firm say about his family?”

“No one has ever met them.”

Matt leaned back and stretched.

“We're going for the wife is what I take this to be,” Alex said.

“I think we are,” Matt replied.

Chap  19  A Barn Dance

The next two days Matt and Alex followed the leads on the pharmaceutical customers. The police depts in Oklahoma and South Carolina did not manage to locate the wife of the victim. They still had to hear from Anchorage.

Matt had suggested to the Anchorage police that they put a tail on Bierstadt for a few days.

“You think she's gone back to Martin?” Alex asked.

“She thinks she is preserving the life of the planet, by saving our ideal of justice,” Matt suggested. “And I don't think she has any concern for the law at this point.”

Alex shook his head.

“And I thought Russian women were difficult,” he offered.

Matt drove to Jefferson U after lunch to catch up with Sara. The place was decorated with flags and buntings to commemorate independence day. The campus was a hive of activity. They had hoped to do some barn dance in Rice Hall, which had organized a program for American dance.

The End