Chapter Nine
“How come you didn’t tell me about Archie sooner?” Sonya asked.
“I just wanted...”
“To keep it for yourself?”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
Bobby made the decision to call Sonya and tell her about his new friend. As Sonya listened, some of Archie’s story started to sound familiar. She had called to check up on Cal, and he told her about the book he had been reading by Thomas Lang, who had grown up in The Church of Mankind.
“Bobby,” she said, “there might be a reason why Archie won’t tell you about his church–“
“I think it’s The Church of Mankind. I Googled it. I mean, it can’t be a coincidence that Archie shows up with his stories and a creepy religion comes to Marine. Makes you wonder, huh?”
“Do you like Archie?”
“We’ve become friends fast. I think I can trust him; it’s Colin I wonder about. He’s never around, but Archie says he doesn’t work. He also mentioned Colin was in the military and has post-traumatic stress. And Archie hasn’t explained why he and Colin moved here in the first place. Why Marine? Why so close to the religion you’re running from? Doesn’t make sense.”
“Maybe Archie just wanted to get away, but Colin must have had some plan, being the adult. Why come to a town where you don’t know anyone?”
“So you don’t get recognized.”
“I’ll bet he doesn’t plan to stay for long.”
“Archie is just waiting to turn eighteen.”
“Does he think he’ll be able to take care of himself?”
“I guess.”
“Do you have...feelings for him?”
“No, not like that. But there’s something familiar about him. Like I’ve always known him.”
“Be careful, Bobby. I don’t trust The Church of Mankind. I think Marshall Union was a con artist, making up his religion as he went along.”
“The Church of Mankind is worth billions. He must have been the best con man ever.”
“Like my Uncle Bill says, ‘There’s one born every minute.’ By the way, a Church rep called the house.” Sonya giggled. “Uncle Bill talked with him for a while. And even Uncle Bill thought their anti-gay beliefs are bullshit.”
Bobby laughed. “And the rep didn’t know he talking to someone with Alzheimer’s.”
“Proves my point; there’s one born every minute.”
“What have you been doing with your time?”
“Aside from homework? I learned how to re-light the pilot for the hot water heater. I baked cookies. I shoveled snow and shoveled snow. Today, I held down Helga on the floor with Uncle Bill so Dad could trim her toenails. The way she carried on, you’d think she was being tortured.”
“I miss Helga. I wish I could see her.”
“I’d like to go to the mall or the movies. Dad went grocery shopping, but made me stay home with Uncle Bill.”
“Mom’s the same way with me. She keeps making me wear that helmet.”
“Have you heard from Piper?” Sonya asked.
“Not in a few days. Probably having too much fun and sun.”
“Did you see the story on the news about Danny Brooks?”
“Yes. His mother wouldn’t be interviewed.”
“I can only imagine what she’s going through. Same thing with Brad and Tyler Jensen’s family.”
“That’s going to be a double funeral in Winterhaven. At Vanderhyde’s Funeral Home. Some people who live in their unit are going.”
“Did you see how pissed off The Chief of Police was? The Sniper is a dead man.”
“Who do you think will find him first? The cops or The Diamonds?”
A new chapter president had yet to be chosen, but the elder members of The Blue Diamonds came to a decision; retribution was in order.
The existing elders; Gerald ‘Popcorn’ Lewis, Johnny ‘J.R.’ Hanson(the younger brother of T. Hanson, the former chapter president of the Blue Diamonds)and Judas O’Brien, waited at the bar in The Blue Diamond clubhouse in Marine Heights. The three men, all in their sixties, heavy around the middle, weathered faces boasting long gray beards except for Judas, who kept his 1970s style moustache groomed, along with his long white sideburns, were the only men in the clubhouse. The place had been closed for days, J.R. the only one with a key. When they had entered, he turned on the lights and the furnace, the building cold. J.R. made coffee, Popcorn and Judas keeping their coats on, black knitted caps on their heads.
“I heard Waylon was finally cremated,” Judas said.
“The urn is at Donut’s house. Carrie and Sasha are there with the baby,” Popcorn said. “The urn is a skull. Customized.”
“Cool.”
“Donut wanted the same thing. Carrie’s afraid to give him a funeral.”
“I can understand that the bastard who shot Waylon probably shot that kid at the high school. But how is the bombing connected?” Judas asked.
Popcorn shrugged. “Who could have access to that much C-4 explosive? The cops can’t seem to connect it all, but why try to blow us up if Waylon was the only intended target? Makes no sense to me if it all wasn’t connected...”
“That doesn’t explain the kid. He had no connection to us. Neither did the father and son at the apartments.”
“But I feel it in my gut that none of this is random. If this sniper is military, he has a plan.”
“And J.R.’s grandson just happened to see that car.”
“An old Chevy Monte Carlo. The boy can draw, he showed J.R. the car.”
“Yeah,” J.R. said. “Cody found a copy of the model on Google. Probably a 2000 Chevy Monte Carlo. Dark blue. There’s a lot of them out there. I asked Cody if he remembered anything different about the car. A dent or scratch. A bumper sticker. He said he didn’t look that long at the car from inside the bus. But later he told me he noticed that the letters on the car had been painted over, along with the other decals, like the Chevy bow-tie on the front. A sign of an amateur paint job, not thinking to take off all of that stuff before painting. Anyway, that’s all I’ve got.”
“And who says this Chevy is registered for Michigan?” Judas asked.
“The cops will be looking into all of that shit,” Popcorn said. “Besides, the witnesses at the apartments said the sniper was driving a Jeep.”
“Could the sniper have stolen the Chevy or the Jeep?”
“That’s where we get the advantage. My cop at the Marine PD deals with Auto Theft. I told him to look up recent thefts of Monte Carlos and Jeeps. He gave me a list of stolen vehicles, and it’s not as long as you might think. With a little patience, we can narrow it down.”
“But, Pop,” Judas said, “the sniper can leave those stolen vehicles anywhere and move on to the next.”
“Let’s not give the Marine PD too much credit. They’ve never dealt with anything like a sniper before. Even D.C. didn’t know how the deal with their bat-shit crazy sniper until his car was found. And then it was a shoot-out.”
“Well, how much proof do we need? If Toon has the patience–“
The door swung open, bringing the cold in. A tall, very lean figure, bundled up in black, entered.
“Hey, Toony,” Judas said. “Makes you want to run back to Florida, don’t it?”
Toon, not one for displays of biker affection, nodded a hello. “Shit, we got snow there, too.” His voice was low, husky from years of smoking and drinking. “Starting melting when I left.”
He took off his bulky coat, placing it on a chair. A black sweatshirt covered his torso, but the Tweety Bird tattoo, a bright yellow, took up most of his neck. The Florida sunshine had lined his face prematurely; his graying auburn hair was cut short, the curls untamed. His Blue Diamonds leather vest with patches covered the sweatshirt.
He sat at the bar next to Popcorn. He sipped his coffee as the older man explained the shootings and the car J.R.’s grandson had seen the morning the boy was killed. Toon listened in his easy but cold manner, not making eye c
ontact with anyone but Popcorn.
“I was sorry I wouldn’t have been able to make Waylon’s funeral,” Toon said. “I guess I was lucky...”
“I was running late, so I missed the fireworks,” Popcorn said. “Judas was there...”
“I had just stepped into Fletcher Brothers,” Judas said, “I was only lucky because I was still in the hallway and not the showroom. I got blown against the front doors. Holy shit!”
“I heard Roy Beauchamp from The Saxons was there,” Toon said.
“Yeah, poor bastard,” Popcorn said. “He was sent home for burial. Judas and I are just trying to keep things in order.”
“Pop,” Toon said,”I can’t promise you anything, even with your list. I won’t demand any payment until I finish the job because it could take a while. I’m no detective; usually, I’m given a clear target. You don’t seem to have one.”
“I already had Judas check out some of these addresses,” Popcorn said, “and the owner of the stolen Jeep lived at Lakeshore Apartments, where the father and son were killed. I think whoever stole that Jeep lived at the apartments, too. It would just seem more convenient, you know? Why steal a vehicle from miles away only to have to come back to kill your target?”
“Only if the sniper had planned on killing the father and son before he stole the Jeep,” Judas said.
Popcorn almost laughed. “Judas is the detective. To me, it makes sense. But how does a crazy bastard think? I’ve known some psycho dudes, but not like this.”
“Wayne Stone was psycho,” Judas said. “So was his son.”
“But that was a different kind of psycho. Someone like Wayne tries to hide their kills, not leave ‘em on the street.”
Toon, who had his own methods, shook his head. “I’ll go to the Lakeshore apartments and stake it out for a while. But I’ll bet this guy isn’t driving that Jeep or Chevy anymore. And when he makes his next kill, it will be another stolen vehicle.”
“Sonya told me that she’s reading A Hundred Lifetimes,” Piper said.
Piper sat with her mother on the ship’s deck, a warm breeze blowing. They were laid out on deck chairs, a laptop in Robin’s lap while Piper, over her mother’s shoulder, read the report on The Church of Mankind from Robin’s law office.
“I’ll bet Cal Whistler was all excited to get that interview,” Robin said. “Although I’m sure he was just grateful not to get blown up at the funeral home. Fletcher Brothers. What a pity. Good people.”
“Sonya said the FBI has come to Marine,” Piper said. “Even the national news.”
“To be honest, I’m glad I’m not home right now. Hopefully, they’ll find that maniac before we get back.”
“Bobby has to go to the bus stop wearing a helmet.”
Robin shook his head. “Poor Bobby. Delia must be a nervous wreck.”
“The Blue Diamonds seem to think it’s all about them, but the father and son at Bobby’s–“
“I don’t doubt for a minute that the Diamonds are one step ahead of the Marine PD, even the FBI.”
“Really?”
“The Diamonds have more friends in Marine than any FBI agent. I’m sure Ben Garcia is just sitting at his desk, waiting for the other shoe to drop, courtesy of The Diamonds. The Feds are out of their element in Marine.” Robin passed Piper her laptop. “I’m going to the ladies’ room. Do you want anything while I’m up?”
“No thanks.”
The report was over ten pages long. Piper skimmed over it while her mother walked away. Piper accessed Sonya’s e-mail, but not before making a copy of the report. She sent the copy to Sonya, then deleted the copy. She checked The Blue and White, but the site was still down. She returned to the report, having read several pages before her mother returned with a frothy rum drink, the straw between her lips.
“I wonder if Cal knows that Matthew Hawkins is next in line to run The Church,” Piper said.
“I think he would keep that sort of thing quiet in Marine.” Robin took another sip. “Not enough rum.”
“Marshall Union, the prophet, went into hiding the last years of his life. You’d think his followers would stop trusting him, but The Church just kept making more and more money.”
“Billions. People start fighting and lawsuits follow.”
“But why didn’t Marshall Union leave it all to his son and daughter? Why Lance Hawkins?”
“Maybe he trusted Hawkins more. The old man was starting to get paranoid, a symptom of dementia. Lance Hawkins may have taken advantage of the prophet.”
“You’d think he would have wanted to be surrounded by the people who loved him.”
“His daughter Frieda and her husband were looking after him, but the old man didn’t trust her. He apparently felt the same way about his son Timothy.”
“Timothy’s wife also disappeared.”
“People have a tendency to disappear around the Unions.”
“The Church of Mankind is a cult, isn’t it?” Piper asked.
Robin shook her head. “A tax-exempt religion. On the surface, their beliefs seem harmless, all that past-life stuff, but Marshall Union, in his day, had his followers going with him on treasure hunts , the maps his past lives. He claimed he was once a pirate in the 1700s that hid a cache of gold coins off the coast of Italy. He took his early followers by ship to the very place he claimed, and they started digging. They found nothing, but not one of those people doubted Union. He was that powerful. Besides, curing his followers of disease was power enough in those days.”
“Why does Thomas Lang hate The Church?”
“His stepmother Frieda is no longer wealthy and selling Church secrets is lucrative. He may have self-published, but a movie studio bought the rights to his story for six figures.”