J. Jance - Until Proven Guilty

“Come on, Peters. We don’t have a shred of solid evidence. Nothing more than the fact that he doesn’t have an alibi for last night. The girl was probably some hooker off Aurora. You know how easy finding her will be.”

“But you intend to look?” Peters regarded me wearily, shaking his head.

“That’s right,” I answered. We rode down in the elevator without saying anything more.

Maxwell Cole was in the lobby, arguing with the officer stationed at the registration desk, his walruslike face twitching with exasperation. “What’s going on, J. P.? This asshole wouldn’t spring with any information.”

“Good,” I said. “Neither will I. Pass the word.”

Peters directed one of the uniformed officers to keep an eye on the seventh floor. He nodded and waved.

Cole blustered out of the lobby after us. “I want to know what’s going on. Two innocent people have been slaughtered in cold blood. You owe the people of Seattle an explanation.”

I turned on him. “I owe the people of Seattle a full day’s work for a full day’s pay. I don’t owe you a fucking thing.” The other cop heard this exchange with a poorly concealed grin. “If he gives you any trouble, lock him up,” I said as I stalked away.

Peters moved his car to a parking meter and plugged it. We had decided to go up to my apartment and see what kind of fish our hidden recorder might have hooked.

It was only as we rounded the corner of Lenora onto Third that I remembered Anne was in my apartment. My mind had switched tracks completely, and now I didn’t know what to do. I decided I’d better call her from the lobby and give her some warning of her impending company.

She seemed pleased to hear my voice. “I’m downstairs,” I said. “I’m bringing Peters up with me.”

“Who was that?” Peters asked with a conspiratorial grin as we got on the elevator. “Anybody I know?”

“As a matter of fact, you do know her. It’s Anne, Anne Corley.”

“Why you closemouthed son-of-a-bitch! I got the impression at lunch yesterday that you and she had just met. How long have you been holding out on me?”

The elevator door opened on eight. “Can it!” I snapped as Wanda Jamison got on, coffee cup in hand. She was on her way for a morning coffee klatch with Ida, my next-door neighbor. Wanda and I exchanged idle pleasantries while Peters continued to leer at me over her head.

If I thought Anne would have used the lead time to change out of my robe, I was sadly mistaken. She didn’t. I was glad I waited until Ida’s door was safely closed before I knocked on my own. Anne opened the door and gave Peters a gracious welcome, as though her being there in a state of relative undress were the most natural thing in the world. She was totally at ease, and Peters was getting a real charge out of my discomfort.

Peters made himself some tea while I paced the confines of my tiny kitchen. “What do you suggest we do with her while we listen to the tape?” he asked.

“I give up.” I was long on embarrassment and short on ideas right then. I had told Anne she could stay as long as she liked, but I couldn’t have her in the room while Peters and I listened to our illicit tape.

Peters carried his cup into the living room. He took my chair. I sat on the couch next to a cross-legged Anne. It disturbed me to be next to her. I wanted to touch her, but not in front of Peters. I didn’t want to soften my image — whatever was left of it.

Peters looked at Anne. “Do you mind if we play a tape?”

Anne contemplated Peters with her direct, gray gaze. “Do you want me to leave? I can go in the other room.”

Peters glanced in my direction, then nodded. “I’d appreciate it.”

Obligingly, Anne rose. “I’ll go get dressed then,” she said. Much to my dismay, she leaned over and gave me a familiar peck on the cheek as she went by. The robe fell open, allowing me a fleeting glimpse of flesh and curve.

Once she was out of the room, Peters pointed an accusing finger at me. “You assole,” he said. “If you’d told me yesterday, I never would have tagged along with you to lunch.”

I didn’t feel like explaining that, yesterday at lunch, I hadn’t known either. “Play the tape, Peters,” I said wearily. “Just play the tape.”

He did.

At first there were indistinguishable noises, openings and closings of doors that weren’t followed by sufficient noise to keep the recorder running. Eventually, however, there was a murmur of voices punctuated by coughs and clearings of throats, the sounds of a fitful crowd settling itself. Then Pastor Michael Brodie’s voice, stentorian and clear, filled my tiny living room.

“Brethren, we come together this evening as Believers in the one True Faith, as Partakers of the one True Life. We are the chosen generation, a royal priesthood. Are there any here who doubt that we are the People of God?” There was a pause with no answer. Brodie’s voice was that of a born orator sounding a call to arms.

“We have come to this place as strangers and pilgrims. There are none of us here who did not once walk in lasciviousness and lust. Our Lord did not come to call the righteous. He came to call the sinners, and those of us who have seen and heard are here, Brothers and Sisters. We are here! Praise God.” A chorus of amens echoed on the tape.

“Are we going to have to listen to the whole fucking sermon?” Peters asked.

“Looks that way,” I told him.

“We have spoken many times how, in the early days, the Romans were the law of the land. In Romans 7:4 it says, ”Wherefore, my brethren, ye also are become dead to the law by the body of Christ.“ Let there be no mistake about it. That means that once we are in Christ, once we have set ourselves firmly on His path, we are dead to the law of the land. We are apart from it. It has nothing to do with us. And when we return to the law of the Romans, the law of the flesh, we turn our backs on The Way, for it is impossible to live in the world of the flesh and the world of the spirit at the same time.

“The scripture goes on to say, ”For when we were in the flesh, the motions of sins, which were by the law, did work in our members to bring forth fruit unto death. But now we are delivered from the law, that being dead wherein we were held; that we should serve in newness of spirit, and not in the oldness of the letter.“

“Did you hear that, Brothers and Sisters? Did you hear that? It says we are delivered from the law. Delivered! Cut loose! Living under the Roman law shackles us, delivers us to death. It is only by living completely and totally in our newness of spirit that we find Life, Life Everlasting.” Again we heard the echoing amens.

“He’s really tuning up now. Getting into his act.”

“Shut up, Peters. I’m trying to listen.”

“…was in this newness of spirit that we made the leap of faith that brought us here to this city. It took courage for each of us to leave the old ways behind. Each of us left friends and family and possessions. We all made sacrifices to be here, trusting that we had found the True Pathway to Christ. In doing so, each of us has taken a vow to lean not on our own understanding. We have sworn to be subject one to another, to submit ourselves to the elders, to humble ourselves under the mighty hand of God that He may exalt us in due time.

“We have found that there are those who would revile us for mortifying our members, who falsely accuse us of evil when in fact we who suffer for righteousness’ sake are content and unafraid. There is one of our number here tonight who has brought herself to be purged of sin. In her hour of trial she turned from the teaching and cast herself back into the old ways, turning away from the Law of the Spirit to the carnal law. Sister Suzanne, will you rise and stand before the Brethren.”