Keohane, G. - Solomon's Grave

“Thursday sounds good.”

“Great. I’ve got to go; break’s over.”

“Say hi to Mrs. Conan for me. Listen, could you, you know, discreetly ask around today, see if anyone’s heard from Reverend Hayden?”

She said she would. They picked a time to meet and Nathan disconnected. Her call was a Godsend, perhaps literally. He checked his calendar for today. He had less than forty-five minutes before he had to drive to the city and make his rounds at the University of Massachusetts Medical Center, then downtown to Saint Vincent’s. He’d make a few calls about Hayden first, then rush through a shower. It would be a full day. There didn’t look to be a break to make it back to Hillcrest until the late afternoon.

Even with everything else going on, Elizabeth’s earlier idea of checking out the Hillcrest Men’s Club still felt like a good one.

Any answers he might garner from a visit would have to wait until tomorrow. He had inked in breakfast at his mother’s house for Thursday morning, hoping to make it a weekly routine. Maybe she could give him some ammunition before he drove across town to confront whatever waited for him behind the club’s front door.

Plans made, he opened the phone directory and looked up Mrs. Lewis’ number. He didn’t have the time to dwell on any more mysteries today. Tomorrow he could dredge it all up again.

Chapter Thirty-One

The Bible study Wednesday night was more crowded than had been usual under the tutelage of Reverend Hayden. Along with Nathan, fifty-six people sat in double circles of folding chairs in the middle of the room. Against one wall stood a long table covered in a white cloth and adorned with plates of cookies and a chocolate cake. Someone had brought two-liter bottles of Sprite and Diet Coke. Mrs. Zawalich had come in earlier to set up the church’s large coffee urn. It gurgled and belched as it slowly drained of steaming coffee. Decaf, however. It never failed to amaze Nathan how the majority of evening meetings provided no decaffeinated drinks. People likely spent hours lying awake in bed afterwards, waiting for the shock of caffeine to leave their systems.

Word had spread of the former pastor’s disappearance, thanks to the few calls made by Nathan that morning. He’d decided to make use of the parish’s prayer chain to spread word to everyone. It carried the news across town, bringing parishioners to the church’s basement. Some had come only to check on the status of the search, of which there had been no further word. Others came to pray for his safety and well-being. Nathan was grateful to see them all. It was important to maintain consistency by not canceling the study tonight. Not enough people looked to God’s word for guidance, relying too much instead on sermons. A preacher may be a good speaker, even dynamic and charismatic, but in the end, all he or she did was to present the Word from one person’s perspective. It was all within these pages, as long you looked and listened to the messages they offered.

Like last night. Whether what he’d read about Solomon or his wives had anything to do with his private mystery in town, he did not know. He’d find out when he needed to.

This was the first study that Nathan would lead. He decided to do a little research. It didn’t feel quite like manipulating the study for personal reasons. Using the passage provided to him last night, he hoped for insight from the congregation. He chose the same passage from Kings, and talk moved invariably to those of faith who so often stray from their worship of God, to idols and other “gods” which most in the group agreed were demons of great seductive power.

After talk had progressed a few minutes, Nathan asked if anyone had heard of Chemosh or Molech. He wished the day hadn’t been so busy, for he would have liked to have done some detailed research ahead of time. A teenaged girl he recognized as one of the more active in the youth ministry, Jaylene he thought her name was, raised her hand.

“I did a report once on Old Testament deities—the darker ones, I mean. Chemosh doesn’t ring a bell, but that other guy does... guy, or thing, whatever,” she said, shrugging. “I’m pretty sure he’s the one the Ammonites sacrificed their first born children to.” A few murmurs of disgust, mostly from the younger members. She added, “He’s one of the oldest, too. Even got a mention in the Laws of Moses. Somewhere in Deuteronomy, or maybe Leviticus. I get those two mixed up a lot.”

Seeing the interest her answer received from the group, Jaylene continued. “They actually burned them. Tossed them inside the mouth of a statue that was on fire, or something like that. Pretty gross!”

More murmurs all around. Nathan forced his dry throat to swallow. During the discussion he had begun to suspect some association with what he’d seen and felt in his earlier nightmares, but hearing it spoken still sent a chill through him. Rather than help to clarify anything, her answer only served up more questions. He wanted to press, but others had begun a thread regarding human sacrifice within the Old Testament, citing the common story of Abraham bringing his son to the mountain for a sacrifice to God. A blind following of God’s will for no other reason than that He said to follow.

“But in the end he didn’t.”

“What about that nasty story of Jepthath killing his daughter?”

“Oh,” said another. “I hate that story.”

Nathan had gotten what he’d been looking for, somewhat. Though he had expected any confirmation of recent events would unnerve him, he became surprisingly calm about everything. OK, so there’s a chance that you’ve been dreaming of a five thousand year old sacrificial ceremony. Well, it’s good to have that out of the way . Likely it was knowledge learned during seminary which had worked its way into his subconscious. Nothing more.

The topic was juicy enough to lead discussions a half hour past the appointed ending time. It was good to lose oneself like that. It helped a person forget confusion and despair over other matters and allowed everyone to take solace in the Word, forget for an hour the disappearance of their beloved pastor.

As people cleaned up the hall and moved to their cars in the rear parking lot, voices dropped from animated continuation of earlier subjects to hushed worries about Reverend Hayden. Nathan was the last to leave, turning out the lights and heading upstairs. He was glad he hadn’t made plans with Elizabeth tonight. He was exhausted. Upstairs in the small office, he checked his messages. The light was blinking, the number “1” above it. Nathan was awash with a mix of hopefulness and apprehension. He pressed Play.

A robotic computerized voice confirmed his first dental examination at Doctor Crennell’s office for Monday. In a voice similar to the dentist’s computer, the answering machine announced, “...end of messages.”

One more task done as part of his homecoming. A nice change, since not much of anything else was happening as he’d expected.

Chapter Thirty-Two

“So,” Nathan said before taking a mouthful of scrambled eggs, “I’m going over there today. See what’s up.”

Beverly Dinneck took a quick sip of coffee and got up from the table. “Here,” she said, “let me get you more eggs.”

He raised his hand and waved her back to her chair. “Ma, please! Relax. I’m all set. If I eat any more, I’ll burst.”

She hesitated, her eyes darting as if running through a list of chores to be done and trying to decide if anything else needed attention. Finally, almost reluctantly, she sat back down. Her large fingers played absently with her coffee mug, never quite gripping it, never able to completely release it.

Nathan sat back and put his fork down. “You were never this restless before,” he said. “At least, not that I can remember.”