Talisman (63 page)

Fitting
, I thought confidently.

Once the
music had stopped, the pastor sauntered over to the pulpit and began to address the crowd of parishioners.   I could only make out a small portion of Pastor Shrewsbury’s sermon, what with all the “hallelujahs” and “amens” that rang out repeatedly.  I caught the gist of his lesson on “faith”, but my mind was too preoccupied with our real reason for being here — to find Mr. Estell.  We both scanned the crowd relentlessly.  Tanner was far more inconspicuous than I was when it came to surveillance.  He squeezed my hand several times and whispered, “Not
so
obvious.”  While my eyes continued to travel around the room, I noticed a little girl with blonde hair woven into pigtails staring at me.  I was a bit startled, though the look on her face was nothing like the evil-eye gaze Mr. Estell had thrown my way the other day. She eventually smiled, which put my mind at ease.  I resumed my visual search, but to no avail.  Mr. Estell was
nowhere
to be found.

Soon
the message had concluded, and the pastor closed with a prayer.  I felt relieved there hadn’t been any “ceremonial additions” to the service that the church was notorious for.

Maybe that’s something they
only do on special occasions…like communion?

However
, when the rear doors flew open and various members of the congregation began to speak in tongues, my feeling of relief shifted into one of apprehension. With a wary eye, I watched a man walk up the aisle carrying a rather
large
wicker hamper.  I let out a gasp and prayed,
PLEASE let there be a butt-load of bread in that basket!

Sure enough, the man reached into the tall
wicker container and started yanking out snakes, left and right.  It was like watching a horrible train wreck about to happen.  It was sickening, but I
couldn’t
turn away.  Freakishly mesmerized, I gawked (and gagged) at the parishioners passing various snakes around like they were at a Saturday afternoon swap meet.  The church was crawling and slithering with serpents before we knew it.  A snake-wrangler approached Tanner and presented him with one of the vile, scaly critters.  The Amethyst Talisman pretended like he was going to hand it to me until he noticed my “don’t
EVEN
think about it” look.  He grinned and then tossed it to a man sitting to his right.

Tanner nudged my arm. “Come on.  Let’s wait outside.”
  He didn’t have to tell me twice.

A
s we headed out into the hall, a familiar female voice called out, “Leaving
so soon?
”

I jumped, while Tanner remained cool and collected.  Mrs. Flossie Mae Shrewsbury was following us out like a puppy dog, except her tail wasn’t wagg
ing.  She looked directly at me.

“I take it this isn’t your cup of tea?”
she probed with an air of suspicion.

In a slick attempt to avoid
offending the pastor’s wife, Tanner interjected, “
No, Ma’am
.  I’ve been trying to convert my wife to the ways of the church, but I’m afraid she still hasn’t become accustom to some of its rituals.”  He squeezed my hand and continued, “She’s a bit on the
squeamish
side.”

Mrs. Shrewsbury seemed to buy Tanner’s explanation.  However, as I observed her body language and listened in on her thoughts, I realized,
He doesn’t have her snowed at all
…
She’s just in the same disposition that Lila the waitress was in yesterday!
   She was totally captivated by him and was hanging on to his every word while she had “less than wholesome” thoughts.

Mrs. Shrewsbury took Tanner’s ar
m in hers and led him into the fellowship hall.  I followed behind, shaking my head. 
Not again — Ugh!
  I felt awful for this poor, unsuspecting lady.  She would be mortified if any of the church’s congregation saw her fawning all over a man who wasn’t her husband, the pastor.

Where’s an ice-cold baptismal pool when you need one?

Tanner used Mrs. Shrewsbury’s “new attitude” to his advantage.  “Mrs. Shrewsbury, I was hoping you could help me find an old buddy of mine.  He’s the one who first introduced me to the church.  His name is Mr. Estell.  Do you know him?” he asked.

Mrs. Shrewsbury leaned in closer to whisper in his ear.  “I do know a Mr. Estell…a Mr.
Stacie Estell.  He used to be a member of the church, but he had a falling out with my husband over some of his
strange beliefs
,” she replied.

Upon hearing her announcement, I thought skeptically,
How could they be any stranger than thinking a snakebite will test your faith and give you some kind of good favor?

“What kind of
strange beliefs?
” Tanner asked.

Mrs. Shrewsbury, who was now rubbing Tanner’s ar
m, continued, “Unnatural things…
Unspeakable things
really
.  They weren’t the church’s beliefs.  They were secular and bordered on the realm of
evil
.  He eventually severed his ties with the church…and
GOOD RIDDANCE
, I’ll say!  He hasn’t been a member here for several years.  I can’t imagine that
you
could ever be a friend of
his?
” she added dubiously.

“Do you
know where I could find him?” Tanner asked.

There wasn’t a doubt in my mind —
he was going to find Mr. Estell tonight,
one way or another
.

Mrs. Shrewsbury
speculated, “I think he’s still around…
somewhere
.  When he was a member, he stayed in the small house across the road that the church owns.  When we parted ways, he took his things and left.  I know people still see him around, but I’m afraid I don’t know his current address.”

Abruptly, the fellowship ha
ll’s doors opened and the masses began to huddle around the refreshment table.  Tanner stepped away from Mrs. Shrewsbury and ushered me off to the side of the room.

“I’m going to ask some of the others if they m
ay know where to find Mr. Estell.  Mingle around and see if you can find out anything,
Mrs. McCoy
.”  With that said, Tanner headed off in search of our next destination.

I was just as uncomfo
rtable in here as I was in the worship hall.  I could just picture a snake popping out of someone’s pocket.  I’d had enough snake encounters in just one week to last a lifetime.  My skin was crawling, especially when someone brushed my arm as they walked past.  I asked a few people about Mr. Estell, but nobody knew where he lived.  Frustrated and still struggling with a case of the sceevies, I wandered outside to wait for Tanner, who was currently surrounded by most of the female congregation.

That figure
s…

I wait
ed on the front steps of the church and stared up at the dark night sky.  It had a very eerie look about it.  There were no visible stars and it appeared hazy, streaked with various shades of gray.  All of a sudden, I felt something lightly tap my shoulder.  I gasped uncontrollably (at the thoughts of it being a daggone snake) as I whipped around.

I let out a laugh.  “
Oh
, you startled me,” I replied when I’d noticed that it was the little pig-tailed girl who was now sitting by my side.

“
I’m sorry
.  I didn’t mean to,” the little girl replied contritely.  “My name’s Gallia.  What’s yours?” she asked.

In the midst of all the weirdness that surrounded the church and its rituals, I found the little girl’s presence quite calming.  Her interest in a stranger around here, I assu
med, was an innocent curiosity.

“That’s a fitting name for such a pretty little girl.  I’m Sh
y
loh. 
Hmm
…Let me guess…You look to be around nine or ten?”

Gallia giggled. 
“Are you going to start coming to church here?” she asked.

I put on a convincing smile as that thought went in one ear and out the other.  “
No
,” I confirmed.  “We just came by to see if we could find an old friend.  That’s all.”

“Oh,” she replied.  “Did you find them?” Gallia asked as she fiddled with the pink ribbons tied onto the ends of her pigtails.

“Not yet.  We don’t appear to be having any luck,” I answered casually, not in any hurry to meet up with creepy old Mr. Estell.

“Maybe
I
can help?” she posed.  “What’s your friend’s name?”

Gallia seemed like a
sweet girl, so felt compelled to humor her.  “Uh…his name is Mr. Stacie Estell.”

“He’s not here,
” she answered immediately.

I nodded thinking,
No kidding
.

Gallia tugged on my ar
m.  “
But…
I know where he
lives
,” she added.  My eyes widened as the little pig-tailed girl told me how to get to Mr. Estell’s house.  Gallia pointed her finger and instructed, “Down the highway and turn onto the dirt road by the orange rock.”

I
sprang to my feet.  “Excuse me, Gallia.  I need to tell my friend. 
Thank you
.”  I ran up the steps and met Tanner just as he was coming outside, looking awfully concerned.

“I said ‘mingle’, not
run off
,” Tanner scolded as he shook his head and adjusted his attitude.  “Did you have any luck?”

Proudly, I nodded.  “I sure did.  I got his address.”

“From who?”

“A little girl,” I answered as I turned to point her out to him.
  He followed my finger to the bottom of the steps.  “Where is she?” I remarked.  Gallia wasn’t there.  I muttered, “She was just here a second ago.”  I scanned the parking lot and sensibly replied, “She’s a little girl…They tend to
run off
.”

Tanner
grabbed my arm and led me down the steps.  As we headed for his Harley, he sneered and shook his head.  “
Yeah
…I
know
they do.”

I passed along the sketchy
directions to Tanner as we headed down the highway.  A couple miles into our trip, we spotted a large rock by the side of the road.  It wasn’t actually an “orange rock”, but it did have a lot of graffiti scribbled on it in orange paint.  I tapped on the back of his leather jacket and motioned him towards the dirt road lying beside the vandalized stone.

As we turned onto to the
bumpy road, Tanner pulled his motorcycle off to the side and hid it behind a thick cluster of secluded bushes.  He hushed its noisy engine and instructed me to hop off.

“We don’t
want to ring any doorbells,” Tanner advised.  “This is a
surprise
visit, remember?”

Before we headed off in search of Mr. Estell, I noticed Tanner removing the two
metal grips from off the motorcycle’s handlebar.  He tucked them inside his leather jacket and flashed me a sly smile.

I gave my head a quick, skeptical shake. 
Well, that’s not going to stop anyone around here from stealing your precious bike.  Whatever
…

Our pace was markedly slow.  We really didn’t know how far it was or what type of dwelling we were looking for.  It was more of an “explorative jog” through the
dusky woods.

After about a mile, we spotted a small structure on the horizon.  We kept ourselves camouflaged behind the trees as we crept closer to what
turned out to be a run-down old shack in the middle of nowhere.  By the way the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, I thought,
Oh yeah — This is the place.  It sure looks creepy enough!

We crouched behind some bushes
several feet from the shack.  There were no lights on, and it appeared to be deserted.  Tanner sensed my hesitation.  He shook his head and grabbed my arm.

“Let’s go,
Goldilocks
,” Tanner teased as he yanked me towards the old shack.

Goldilocks
, my ass — Let’s just hope all we find in there is a pot of porridge!

There was no lock on the door, so Ta
nner pulled it open with ease.

“We’re just going
in?
” I whispered uneasily.

“
Yes.
  You have to earn your wings sometime.  He obviously doesn’t care.
See
, no lock,” Tanner mocked as he swung the door back and forth.  “If you ask me, he’s just
inviting
someone in,” he announced boldly.

I nervously interjected, “Maybe he doesn’t have to
lock it
because people know how
crazy
he is, and that nobody would ever dream of breaking into his place to mess with him!”