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The shed was neat, the garden implements hanging on the walls or stowed in one of the built-in slots. There were several plastic trash cans for dirt and leaves. The floor had been swept clean.
Cleanliness and godliness—hand in hand.
Decker mulled over the adage.
The sect must believe in some type of a god. Why else name yourself the Order of the Rings of God? Why not just … Order of the Rings. Or just plain Rings. Much thought often goes into naming. Decker remembered how he and Rina had endlessly debated baby names even after they decided to name Hannah Rosie after Rina’s grandmothers. Then how much more important would the name be if it denoted a personally tailored philosophy? Or a new religion? Each word would be important.
Decker heard a throat clear, and turned around. The man wasn’t as tall as Decker, but must have cleared six feet. He appeared to be in his late thirties with a thin face and brown eyes. He sported a goatee, and had a black ponytail, which fell between his shoulder blades. Like Pluto, the man wore a blue silk robe overlaid with a purple silk vest. Decker wondered about his name. Mars? Maybe Uranus. That would be fitting. Because the whole investigation was a big pain in the ass.
The man walked over to Decker and held out his hand. “Bob,” he announced.
Involuntarily, Decker let out a chuckle. He shook the proffered hand. “Lieutenant Decker.”
“You find me funny?”
“Just the name.”
“Why’s that? Bob’s a common name.”
Again, Decker smiled. “Yes, sir, it is indeed. I hope I’m not trespassing—”
“You are. You’re lucky I locked the dogs up. With the police coming and going, I had no choice. They don’t like strangers.”
“Good guard dogs never do.”
“You’d better believe it.” Bob smiled. “Their names are Dormer, Dancer and Rudolph. Santa has his reindeer, I have my friends.”
“They’re your dogs?”
“No.” Bob wiped sweat from his brow. “They belong to the Order. But I’m outdoors a lot so we enjoy a personal relationship.”
Decker sensed an underlying message—a veiled warning that said, “Don’t mess with me.”
Bob said, “When I first arrived, Father Jupiter asked if I wanted to change my name to something more … far-reaching—celestial or heavenly, if you will. That was the trend. To follow our great leader’s lead. But, being an individualist and a bit of an oppositionalist, I declined. Unlike most of the people here, I wasn’t running away from myself per se. Just running to something better, my spirit being my compass.”
Decker nodded, waiting for more.
Bob mulled over his words. “I’ve found peace that had previously eluded me. I found my personal god.”
Decker kept his face flat. “Father Jupiter is your personal god?”
“Perhaps that’s an overstatement.” Bob smiled, showing tea-stained teeth. “He’s not a god, but a leader. Showing me the way. My own personal … Tao. I feel that we were birthed from the same matter.”
“Is he related to you by blood?”
Bob chucked. “How I wish.” His eyes swept over the vista. “Look around, sir. This is a type of modern-day Eden. Rephrasing it into scientific parlance, I’d say here we have ideal Newtonian physics—a perfect world of action and reaction, and absolute time. Out there …” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder. “It’s strictly Einstein where everything’s relative. Or Max Planck and quantum mechanics where things are random and unpredictable.”
Decker waited a beat. “You tend the garden by yourself?”
“I have help. But I’ve been here longer, so I get to wear the blue robe and purple vest.”
“Which means?”
“I’m an official privileged attendant to our Father Jupiter. Like Socrates, we get to sit at his feet and listen his words. We hold the title of guru. So I’m officially Guru Bob. But you may call me brother. After all, we’re one big family.”
The guru’s face remained neutral, but Decker suspected that Bob was speaking tongue-in-cheek.
Bob explained, “There are four of us who hold the rank.”
“Ah. I see. I’ve only met—”
“Pluto. He’s quite the organizer.”
Decker said, “I had assumed he was the acting head of the Order now that Father Jupiter is gone.”
Bob continued to be unreadable. “I suppose you could call him the partial acting head. He certainly is a talking head.”
“He has opinions.”
“That is true,” Bob answered. “Let’s get back to Newtonian physics. Because basically that’s the same concept we’re dealing with. For our everyday reactions, Newton’s laws hold. You know his laws, right?”
“Refresh my memory.”
“A body at rest stays at rest … a body in motion stays in motion. The orbits of the planets. What comes up, must come down. Any of this sound familiar?”
“The up and down part.”
“The specifics are not important. What is consequential is that his laws hold in ordinary life, but they break down when objects start approaching the speed of light. Then time no longer is absolute, but is relative and lumped into this category called space time. Not to mention the effects of the space warp—the curved topology of our universe. And the effect of huge gravitation bodies we can’t see called black holes. In other words, you get massive distortions, you understand what I’m saying?”
“The analogy is eluding me, sir—”
“Bob.”
“Bob, then.” Decker paused. “Were you a scientist in your past life?”
“A graduate student in astrophysics at Southwest University of Technology. I worshiped Dr. Ganz as a scientist, as a physicist, as a cosmologist and as a brilliant philosopher and thinker. I devoured his texts, could quote his writings word for word. He became the idealized father I never had. Mine was a washed-out old coot. Even after he made money, he wasn’t happy.”
“But you hadn’t met Ganz before he disappeared.”
“Of course not. My hero was pure fantasy because I, like others, had thought him dead. When I found out that Ganz was still alive, I rejoiced. My hero had leaped from the dry pages of publication and into real life. When others ridiculed his abrupt transformation, I had to find out for myself what brought about his startling change. So I came here. I heard him speak, I talked to the man, thought about his ideas. Once I entered his world, I never left. To me, Father Jupiter is still king of the universe.”
Melach Haolam, Decker thought. A hefty title for a mere mortal. “So you’ve been with Father Jupiter how long?”
“Fourteen years. But getting back to Newton’s absolute time versus Einstein’s relative time, the analogy is this: I have no objection to Guru Pluto stepping in as acting head of the Order under most circumstances—i.e., Newtonian physics. Just as long as he doesn’t try to impose absolute time under Einsteinian conditions. Because if he does, I’m going to clean his relative clock, so to speak.”
Decker opened his mouth and closed it. “Are you saying he can act as the Order’s head just as long as he doesn’t overstep his bounds?”
“Precisely,” Bob stated. “You’re quick for a cop.”
Decker stared at him.
Again, Bob grinned. He swept his arm over the vista. “Father Jupiter loved the garden. Next to the heavens, he loved this world the most. Can’t say that I blame him.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“You know, to get here from the front of the compound is quite a trek. Certainly not within arm’s reach from the procession … which is where you’re supposed to be. Been doing a little space travel, sir?”
“I got lost.”
“I’ll bet.” Bob scratched his head. “I don’t care, but the dogs wouldn’t like it. Certainly, Pluto wouldn’t approve.”
“And that matters to you, Bob?”
The guru thought about that. “Let’s put it this way. At the moment, Pluto’s nerves are frayed. It’s best that you don’t taunt him. He’s handy with an ax.”
Decker was surprised by the implicit threat. “I beg your pardon?”
“Woodcutting.” Bob smirked. “I’ll show you a shortcut back.”
“Actually, if you could show me to Father Jupiter’s bedroom, I’d be much obliged.”
Bob tapped his foot. “Ordinarily, that’s off-limits. But since a birdie has told me that you’ve parked a couple of your lackeys there, guess I might as well show you the proverbial light. Or at least the way.” Bob started walking, but Decker didn’t follow. Bob stopped. “Yes?”
“You all going to be all right here? Maintain status quo, so to speak?”
Bob said “You all? Much obliged? Originally from the South, sir?”
“I guess that’s true if you consider that Florida was part of the Confederacy.” Decker turned grave. “I have concerns, Bob. I don’t want any unbalanced members trying to join Father Jupiter. An individual adult suicide is one thing. But mass suicide that includes children, well, that qualifies as murder.”
“And you’re wondering who would you arrest as the culprit if we were all dead?”
“Bob, I’m not screwing around anymore. I’m very concerned for the kids.”
Bob said, “Here we believe in free will. Father Jupiter said that nothing is sincere if it’s done under coercion. As far as I know, there are no plans for us to jump to the next level. Not that I can predict anyone’s individual behavior any more than I could predict the position of a photon at any given moment. But I do understand what you’re saying.”
Decker wasn’t too sure about that. “And if you hear anything about mass suicide, you’ll let me know immediately, correct?”
Bob said, “I don’t recall you being assigned to our welfare and safety.” A tap of the foot. “I suppose I could take your concern as a compliment. You care.”
“Especially when it comes to protecting kids.”
“Lieutenant, I live here, but I don’t live in a vacuum. I have a son. I want to see him grow to be a man.”
“So we have an understanding.”
“Up to a certain point.”
“Meaning?”
“As long as Newtonian physics hold, we’re fine. But when we get to Einsteinian travel in space time … what can I say? Things get pretty warped out there. I’ll show you the way to Father Jupiter’s bedroom now. Once you’re there, Lieutenant, you’re on your own.”
4 (#ulink_7eeb90da-50f0-53fe-9667-b3af6faba590)
Guru Bob walked Decker back to the Order’s entryway before deserting him for the young girl van driver known as Terra. He whisked her away, leaving Decker to flounder among the white-robed mourners. Standing solo, Decker felt as welcome as a leper. He hunted around the hallways until he saw yellow crime tape strung across a doorway. He stepped over it and went inside the room. The scene wasn’t much to speak about. In general, overdose suicides weren’t messy or bloody. It was just a matter of finding out which specific agent stopped either the breathing or the beating of the heart. More a matter for a doctor than a detective.
Ganz’s bedroom was significantly larger than his parishioners’ cells, but not grandiose by any means. He had a queen-sized bed instead of a cot, a dresser for his clothing instead of a trunk under the bed, and a wall of bookshelves. Most important, he had an attached bathroom. The techs had just finished dusting; black powder covered Ganz’s nightstand, bookshelves and bedposts. At the moment, Scott Oliver was rifling through Ganz’s clothes. Marge Dunn was scribbling in her notepad. She wore beige slacks, a white blouse and a black jacket. On her feet were basic black loafers with rubber soles. There were gold studs in her ears—no other jewelry. The simplest necklace could become a noose when dealing with a violent felon. She wore no perfume either, because alien scents can screw up evidence.
She looked up. “Lieutenant.”
“Detective.” A smile. “What do you have?”
“A headache.” Marge pushed blond bangs from her brown eyes. “You have any Advil on you, Pete?”
“Always.” Years ago, Decker had been shot in the shoulder and arm. The wound had healed without motor nerve damage, but pain lingered like an unwanted relative. He tossed her his bottle. She took off her gloves and plunked out two pills, swallowing them dry. Then she hurled the bottle back. Decker caught it with one hand.
“According to Pluto …” Marge dropped her voice. “Have you met Pluto?”
Decker smiled. “I have met Pluto.”
Marge rolled her eyes. “A piece of work.”
“Wouldn’t want him for a houseguest.”
She smiled. “Anyway, Pluto’s story is that Ganz was found roughly in this kind of position.” She flung her hand back, opened her mouth and flopped her arms out at her side. “Rag doll style. Head and left arm hanging off the side of the bed. He was lying on the diagonal, the body skewed to the left. You can still see part of the outline on the sheets.”
Decker examined the depression in the rumpled coverings. It ran from the left top of the bed to the right bottom corner. “Who found him?”
“Venus—Jupiter’s significant other—did.” She paused and thought. “You know, there’re only nine planets. Wonder what the rest of the group call themselves?”
“There’re always the asteroids,” Oliver said as he rooted through the pockets of Jupiter’s purple robes. “Isn’t a mile-long asteroid gonna hit earth in something like twenty years?”
“Yeah, I heard something like that on the news.” Marge scratched her head. “Wonder if I should take an early retirement?”
“Where’s Venus?” Decker asked. “And please nobody say second rock from the sun.”
“At the processional, washing Jupiter’s feet as the people pass by,” Oliver answered. “It’s a full-time job because his followers keep kissing Jupiter’s big toe. And no, I don’t know what that means.”
Decker said, “Mennonites wash their feet before praying.”
“Why’s that?” Marge asked.
“I think Jesus used to wash the feet of his followers before praying out of humility. So did Abraham—he did it out of kindness. Of course, way back when, washing feet was a standard Middle Eastern custom. You live in the desert and wear sandals, you’re going to have dirty feet.”
Marge said, “Most of the people here wear tennis shoes.”
Decker thought a moment. “You know, Jews wash the dead bodies before corpses are buried. In addition to their own philosophy, maybe the Order co-opted bits and pieces from different, established religions. A little of this, a little of that.”
Oliver asked, “What is the group’s philosophy?”
