More Twisted

Bible-thumper . . . . Oh, hey, no offense.”
    “None taken. We’re Presbyterians. We don’t thump.”
    Silverman smiled. “He didn’t have any idea of what that might mean. I got to thinking about your church—it’s the closest one to the station house—so I thought I’d stop by and see if you can help us out. Is there anything in there you can see that’d suggest how the defendant might try to kill our witness?”
    The reverend read some more from the tissue-thin pages. “This section is in one of the Gospels—where different disciples tell the story of Jesus. In chapter twelveof Luke, Jesus is warning the people about the Pharisees, urging them not to live a sinful life.”
    “Who were they exactly, the Pharisees?”
    “They were a religious sect. In essence they believed that God existed to serve them, not the other way around. They felt they were better than everyone else and put people down. Well, that was the story back then—you never know, of course, if it’s accurate. People did just as much political spinning then as they do now.” Reverend Lansing tried to turn on the desk lamp but it didn’t work. He fiddled with the curtains, finally opening them and letting more light into the murky office. He read the passage several times more, squinting in concentration, nodding. Silverman looked around the dim place. Books mostly. It seemed more like a professor’s study than a church office. No pictures or anything else personal. You’d think even a minister would have pictures of family on his desk or walls.
    Finally the man looked up. “So far, nothing really jumps out at me.” He seemed frustrated.
    Silverman felt the same way. Ever since the CI had been found stabbed to death that morning, the detective had been wrestling with the words from the gospel according to Luke, trying to decipher the meaning.
    Beware!  . . .
    Reverend Lansing continued, “But I have to say, I’m fascinated with the idea. It’s just like The Da Vinci Code. You read it?”
    “No.”
    “It was great fun. All about secret codes and hidden messages. Say, if it’s okay with you, Detective, I’d like tospend some time researching, doing some thinking about this. I love puzzles.”
    “I’d appreciate it, Reverend.”
    “I’ll do what I can. You have that man under pretty good guard, I assume?”
    “Oh, you bet, but it’ll be risky getting him to court. We’ve got to figure out how the hit man’s going to come at him.”
    “And the sooner the better, I assume.”
    “Yessir.”
    “I’ll get right to it.”
    Grateful for the man’s willingness to help, but discouraged he had no quick answers, Silverman walked out through the silent, deserted church. He climbed into his car and drove to the safe house, checked on Ray Pease. The witness was his typical obnoxious self, complaining constantly, but the officer babysitting him reported that there’d been no sign of any threats around the safe house. The detective then returned to the department.
    In his office Silverman made a few calls to see if any of his other CIs had heard about the hired killer; they hadn’t. His eyes kept returning to the passage, taped up on the wall in front of his desk.
    “Beware! Be on your guard against greed of every kind, for even when someone has more than enough, his possessions do not give him life.”
    A voice startled him. “Wanta get some lunch?”
    He looked up to find his partner, Steve Noveski, standing in the doorway. The junior detective, with a pleasant, round baby face, was staring obviously at his watch.
    Silverman, still lost in the mysterious Bible passage, just stared at him.
    “Lunch, dude,” Noveski repeated. “I’m starving.”
    “Naw, I’ve gotta get this figured out.” He tapped the Bible. “I’m kind of obsessed with it.”
    “Like, you think?” the other detective said, packing as much sarcasm into his voice as would fit.

    That night Silverman returned home and sat distractedly through dinner with his family. His widower father had joined them, and the old man wasn’t pleased that his son was so preoccupied.
    “And what’s that you’re reading that’s so important? The New Testament?” The man nodded toward the Bible he’d seen his son poring over before dinner. He shook his head and turned to his daughter-in-law. “The boy hasn’t been to temple in years and he couldn’t find the Pentateuch his mother and I gave him if his life depended on it. Now look, he’s reading