In Death 27 - Salvation in Death

home, “and killed Jenkins because of it?”
    “It’s an angle. What would have happened to the church—its rep, its mission, its coffers—if this understanding got out, was made public.”
    “Sex has toppled countries, and buried leaders. I imagine it would have done considerable damage.”
    “Yeah, I’m thinking more, lots more than the death of the founder and figurehead. The murder of that figurehead by what could be taken as a killer targeting men of God. You could get play out of that, if you spin it right. You could take a few hits, but more, you could drum up more business. The outraged, the sympathetic. You could hold the line until a new figurehead stepped in.”
    Oh yeah, she thought. It played. It played a marching tune. “Meanwhile, you’ve got the widow, the family, grieving and steadfast. You’ll have media coverage out your ass, that will charge right through the memorial. Hell, if you know what you’re doing, you can make this a big plus.”
    “Who knows what they’re doing?”
    “Oh. It’s his manager. Billy Crocker.”
    Roarke let out a quick laugh. “And you know this from one interview with him—I assume—and a few hours on the investigation.”
    She rolled her shoulders, rubbed her eyes. “I should’ve said I like the manager for it. I’m tired, starting to feel punchy. I like the manager for it if it’s a separate killing. If I’m wrong and it’s connected to Flores/ Lino, I’m fucked if I know.”
    She yawned, hugely. “Not enough coffee,” she muttered. “I think I need a couple hours down, let my brain play with it while I’m out.” She checked the time, cursed. “Okay two hours max, since I’ve got to get my report in order before Peabody comes on. And I need time to do a couple runs, and plug in your financials summary. If I do a probability, even with Ulla’s statement, it’s going to slap me back. I need some more.”
    Roarke drove through the gates. “I take it you and I won’t be creating light together this morning?”
    She gave a sleepy laugh. “Pal, I’m looking for the dark.”
    “Fair enough. Two hours down and an energy shake in the morning.”
    “They’re revolting.”
    “We have a new flavor. Peachy Keen.”
    “Revolting and silly. Yum.”
    But since that was two hours away, she wasn’t going to worry about it. She concentrated on getting upstairs, stripping down, and falling into the bed where Galahad already curled, looking annoyed at the interruption.
    By the time the cat relocated to her feet, and she’d snugged herself against Roarke, she was out.
    And out, she walked onto the stage in the great arena of Madison Square Garden. The altar stood under a white wash of light. Both Lino, in his priest robes, and Jenkins, in his white suit, stood behind it.
    The black and the white, under the brilliance of light.
    “We’re all sinners here,” Jenkins said, beaming at her. “Just takes the price of a ticket. SRO, and every one a sinner.”
    “Sins aren’t my jurisdiction,” Eve told him. “Crimes are. Murder is my religion.”
    “You got an early start.” Lino picked up a silver chalice, toasted her, drank. “Why is it the blood of Christ has to be transfigured out of cheap wine. Want a shot?” he asked Jenkins.
    “Got my own, padre. ” Jenkins lifted his water bottle. “Every man to his own poison. Brothers and sisters!” He raised his voice, spread his arms. “Let us pray for this fellow sinner, that she will find her path, find the light. That she repents!”
    “I’m not here about my sins.”
    “Sins are the weight holding us down, keeping us from reaching up for the hand of God!”
    “Want some absolution?” Lino offered. “I give it out daily, twice on Saturday. Can’t buy that ticket into heaven without paying for salvation.”
    “Neither of you are who you pretend to be.”
    “Are any of us?” Jenkins demanded. “Let’s see the playback.”
    The screen behind them flashed on. Dull red light blinking, blinking. Through the small window, SEX! LIVE SEX! beat that red light into the room where Eve, the child she’d been, shivered with the cold as she cut a tiny slice of a molding piece of cheese.
    In the dream her heart began to thud. Her throat began to burn.
    He was coming.
    “I’ve seen this before.” Eve forced herself to keep her eyes on the screen, willed herself not to turn and run from what was coming.
    He was coming.
    “I know what he did. I know what I did. It doesn’t