Last Writes (15 page)

She had begun to feel some real concern over Kelly, whose attitude this morning seemed far less driven to find Kylie than it had been. When they met briefly after breakfast, Kelly had chattered on with enthusiasm about how interesting the classes were, and how much she was learning about the TBL teachings. She added almost as an afterthought that James was softening up, so maybe there would be progress at last.

Claudia was developing a restless desire to leave the Ark. She continued to replay in her mind every conversation she’d had, every handwriting sample she had examined, looking for some clue to Rodney’s whereabouts—anything that might help them reach their objective.

It was such a small community that she was afraid if she continued to ask the same questions of too many members, it would get around and arouse suspicion. Her dissatisfaction with their failure to make any real progress was keen. But ultimately, fed up with feeling thwarted at every turn and with little expectation of getting a helpful answer, Claudia decided to seek out Oka Diehl again.

 

Thunderclouds had formed over the foothills, leaving the air sticky with humidity. As Claudia opened the back door of the Victorian, the damp hit her like a wall. Within seconds, her hair was clinging to her neck, as wet as if she had just stepped out of the shower.

Taking the footpath, she kept an eye out for someone who might tell her where the Diehls lived. After reaching the cluster of outbuildings without encountering anyone, she entered the first open door she came to and found herself in an old-time general store filled with the aroma of fresh-baked goods.

Her granny Arlene had taken her into such a store as a child. There was even the same potbellied cast iron stove in one corner. Not for the first time, it felt like she had stepped back in time. Nostalgia assaulted her as she made her way through shelves of paper goods and sundries, coming to an old wooden counter, behind which a man with flowing white hair sat reading a magazine.

He stood at her approach and laid the magazine on the counter. A surreptitious glance at the magazine gave Claudia the title:
Increasing Light
. The TBL magazine.

“Good morning, sister,” the man said in a friendly manner. “I do believe you’re one of our visitors. I’ve seen you in the dining hall, but we haven’t gotten close enough to speak. I’m Brother Treadwell.”

At her look of confusion, his face split into a grin. “Don’t worry, you’re not crazy. I think you must have met my son, Dan Jr.”

“Oh, yes. I sat at his table. So you’ve got three generations of Treadwells here?”

“We do. Did young Dan’s kids drive you nuts?”

“Well, they were a little—shall we say, obstreperous?”

“They’re spoiled brats is what they are. I don’t know why he doesn’t discipline them. He certainly didn’t get away with that kind of nonsense when he was their age.” He rubbed his hands together briskly. “Now, enough of that. What can I get for you today, missy?”

“I was hoping to stop in to see Mrs. Diehl. I’d heard she wasn’t feeling well, but I don’t know where she lives. I thought maybe you could tell me.”

Treadwell’s face became grave. “Yes, Sister Diehl isn’t at all well. But I believe she’s at home. You’ll find her in Emmanuel. It’s number six in the second row of adobes just past the dining hall. She’s got a lot of cactus out front. Look for the garden gnomes, you can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. I’d like to take her a small gift. Do you have any idea what she might like?”

He pointed to a plate of cookies covered by a glass dome, the origin of the wonderful aroma she had noticed upon entering. “She’s got a real sweet tooth, Oka does. Take her a couple of ginger biscuits, she’ll be your friend forever.”

“That sounds good. I’ll take a half dozen.” Claudia took her change purse from her pocket and asked how much she owed him.

Dan Treadwell Sr. shook his head. “We don’t exchange money here. Our needs are all cared for at the Ark, spiritual and material. But if you feel so moved, you’re welcome to make a contribution in the box at the church. You’ll find it right by the back door.”

“I’ll do that,” Claudia said with a smile as he carefully set out the cookies in a small box. “I’ve never been in a store where I wasn’t allowed to pay.”

“That’s all right. You give Sister Diehl my well wishes, now.”

Treadwell Sr. hadn’t been joking about the Diehl house. Foot-high gnomes, and bunnies, frogs, puppies and kittens galore had turned their garden into a ceramic barn-yard. A variety of potted succulents surrounded the place.

Oka Diehl herself came to the door, pushing a walker with a portable oxygen tank attached. The nasal cannula prongs were in her nose, the tubing hooked around her ears.

“What took you so long?” she wheezed, already turning and shuffling back into the room.

Claudia followed her inside, wondering whether the old woman had mixed her up with someone else. She need not have been concerned. Oka sank into a well-worn recliner and waved at her to take a seat on the couch. “Figured you’d get here eventually.” She had to pause for breath every couple of words. “Sit on the couch. What’s that you’ve got there?”

Claudia offered her the box. “Ginger biscuits. I heard you like them.”

“Yes, I do. Well, thanks a bunch. Put them on the coffee table. I’ll have them after lunch.”

Claudia did as she was bid. “I’m a little confused. How did you know—”

“You were asking about the Powers child. You wanted to know about where she’s going.”

“Just idle curiosity. I’d heard about the party and—”

“Hah! I think not.”

Claudia found herself grinning at the woman with the bright, intelligent eyes. She looked like one of the gnomes in her garden. “You’re very perceptive, Mrs. Diehl.”

“Call me Oka.” She coughed appallingly for several seconds, holding a handkerchief over her mouth, spitting into it.

“Can I get you anything?” Claudia asked. “A glass of water? Medicine?”

“No, no, don’t fuss. I’m a dying old woman, nothing to get in an uproar over. I’ll just keel over one of these days.”

“That’s a pretty philosophical way to look at it.”

“Young lady, I’ve been waiting for more than sixty years for the end of the world to come, and now I can see that
my
end is probably going to come first.” She sighed. “It’s all right. I’m tired; I’m ready to go. I’ll just have to see them all on the other side when they get there. But that isn’t what you came here for. You want to know about the temple.”

“The temple?”

“That’s where the Jephthah’s Daughters stay. Why do you want to know about it?”

Claudia hesitated, wondering whether she should answer truthfully. She decided on a partial truth. “I’m concerned for the well-being of the children there.”

Oka peered at her through narrowed eyes. “There’s more to it, I can see, but never mind. They don’t think I know, but I hear things. George used to be on the governing board and they still come to him for advice, even after he retired and stepped aside.” She paused. “There’s something going on and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”

Their eyes met and Claudia saw an intensity in Oka Diehl’s that startled her. “What is it that’s upset you, Oka?”

“The preparations they’re making this time are for something different. Harold keeps going on about this child being the Chosen One, and I’m worried. I think he’s got some crazy bee in his bonnet.” She was breathing heavily, sucking the oxygen greedily through her nose.

Claudia was beginning to wonder whether she should call someone to help the old woman. “What do you think he’s going to do?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll tell you this: George usually has to sign off on purchase orders for supplies. He has me review them. Still got good eyes, though everything else is going to the dogs. I used to be a copy editor for our publications back in the day. Always got to read the magazines before—”

Seeming to realize that she was beginning to wander, Oka pulled herself back on track. “The last supply order won’t take us past another week. Why haven’t they ordered more food? That’s what I want to know. What are they planning?”

Claudia leaned forward. “Tell me about Jephthah’s Daughters, Oka. Have you ever seen one of the girls after she’s left here?”

She closed her eyes, reminiscing. “One of my best friends sent her daughter. Oh, that was long ago. Lessee, must be a good fifty years ago. We had word of Wendy now and again; but no, they don’t come back. When they go, they go for life.”

Claudia thought it sounded like a prison sentence, but it probably wasn’t politic to say so.

Oka added, “They didn’t always do it on the third birthday, though. Harold started that a while back.”

“How often does it happen that a girl goes there? Is it an annual event?”

“No, no, dear. Just once in a while. Don’t always have families willing to give up their daughters. Sent one off a couple of years ago. Don’t know where she came from, though. Musta been one of the satellite branches, as she wasn’t born here. Cute little thing just appeared here one day and we had a consecration ceremony. Then she was gone again.” Her breathing was beginning to get ragged.

“I think you need to rest.” Claudia pushed herself to her feet. “Just tell me one last thing. Where is the temple located?”

But Oka started coughing again. She flapped her hands, trying to get air. Claudia ran to the kitchen and found a glass on the draining board, poured her some water. When she returned to the living room, Oka’s skin had a bluish tinge. The water helped a little, but it was an enormous relief when George Diehl opened the door and took over.

 

Claudia spent the remainder of Thursday afternoon thinking about her visit with Oka Diehl, wondering what it all meant and hoping the old woman was doing better. She hadn’t really learned anything new, but her fear that something was wrong had been confirmed and left her with a deep sense of unease.

As the afternoon progressed she began to gather her things for her drive to the university campus in Riverside. She hadn’t spoken to Jovanic in two days, and she missed him. By the time she opened the door of the ovenlike Jaguar and climbed in, a feeling of isolation had begun to set in and she could scarcely wait to drive through the Ark’s gates and onto the highway.

Once she hit the 91 westbound she phoned him.

“How’s the investigation going?” he wanted to know as soon as he had determined that she was okay.

“I’ve been working on my paying assignment every day—remember, that’s the ostensible reason why I’m here. But I’ve been asking a lot of questions.”

“You mean you haven’t solved the case yet?” He was laughing at her, but in a nice way.

She laughed, too. “Not yet, honey. Give me another five minutes.” Then she got sober. “Most of the TBL members I’ve met so far have been really
nice.
Even Lynn Ryder was okay after she got over her snit. Can’t blame her for being territorial, I guess.”

“You should know better, babe. A lot of folks who
look
nice—”

“You have a point. Stedman
is
spying on his members.”

Then she told him about Oka Diehl and her disparaging comment about Jephthah’s Daughters, and their short-lived visit that afternoon. “I had a feeling she had something to say, and if she hadn’t started coughing like that, I would have gotten more from her. I just know it.”

“Now, don’t you go bullying little old ladies.”

Claudia chuckled. “Believe me, this is one little old lady who can hold her own.”

 

The university had advertised Claudia’s lecture in the local newspapers as well as the catalog that was mailed to all the students. When she arrived at the Extension building, close to a hundred people already occupied the many rows of chairs in the lecture hall—a full house.

Thanks to the many CSI/Forensic Files-type shows having made every viewer an “expert,” fascination with all things forensic had exploded. She knew that only a handful of those who attended this evening’s event would sign up for her fall session, a forensic document examination class, but Claudia was pleased that the introductory offering had generated so much interest.

The large theater-style projection screen had already been dropped into place; the projector was set up and ready to display her presentation. She handed the thumb drive containing her presentation to the AV tech waiting at the side of the room. He loaded the file onto his computer and gave Claudia a microphone battery pack, which she stuck in her jacket pocket, then clipped the lavalier mike to her lapel.

“Excuse me, Professor Rose, excuse me.”

Claudia turned to the young woman, evidently a student, who was tapping her shoulder. About five foot four and chunky. Her pasty complexion suggested an unhealthy diet. Wire-frame glasses perched on a pug nose gave her a studious look, even with the purple streak that bisected a swath of coal black hair half hiding her face. The epitome of Goth.