Page 6 of Go First
“The prayers and the meditation session.Was that a daily thing?”Kate asked.
“Yes.We have subscribers worldwide.The Pastor believed in starting each day with the Word fresh in his mouth.”
Kate glanced back through the doorway at the ruined mouth.Not anymore.
“In the afternoon, Pastor Whitfield had physiotherapy for his shoulder.”
“Why’s that?”Marcus asked.
“Someone shot him,” Kate said, suddenly remembering.“Three years ago, that right?”
Pearl nodded.“When he was preaching in Baltimore.”
“Didn’t he offer the guy a job when he got out of prison?”
“He still visits the man regularly,” Pearl said, not quite answering the question.“To continue with the schedule: after the physiotherapy, Pastor Whitfield worked for two hours in our call centre.He went for a walk around the lake with his wife, and then he rested in preparation for the evening.’
Further details about the Pastor were coming back to Kate. There’d been some dispute over rights to the shore of the lake, a fishing club mounting a protest.All things worth looking into.
‘And what was the evening event all about?’Marcus asked.
‘It was a party for recent graduates of our First Fruits Investment Academy. There were sixty of them, plus another sixty friends and associates of the church.There is an invitation list, and the security log confirms who came at what time, and when they left. But I can assure you, I’ve checked both of them myself, and there are no anomalies.’
‘We’d still like to take a look,’ Marcus said.
‘Provided it is treated in the strictest confidence,’ Pearl replied.If she was shaken by the Pastor’s death, she still hadn’t lost her professional steel.
‘Did anything happen at the party?’Kate asked.‘Anything that stuck out, wasn’t expected, seemed unusual at the time, or strikes you now as being out of the ordinary?’
Pearl unwrapped a mint without hurry, and popped it in her mouth before replying.‘Nothing at all,’ she said, eventually.‘It was a very successful evening.Taxis arrived for everyone at 11.30pm, and the Pastor was there to say goodbye to every guest.Then he retired to his office to work on his latest book.’
‘Did he do that every night?’
‘Every night.He said he was at his most productive in the small hours.’
“They waited,” Kate murmured.
Pearl frowned.“I’m sorry?”
Kate turned to Marcus.“The killer must have hidden in this office, sometime during the party.That takes knowledge.Patience.”
Marcus’s face hardened.“Inside information.Someone who knew his habits.”
Kate turned to the secretary.“Who served the drinks?”
“We had seven volunteers from the congregation, plus half a dozen students from the High School up the road in Willington.Actually, it was only five because one of them dropped out at short notice, you know… teenagers… something better comes along, or they forget their own heads and feet… so we drafted in one of the security team. Transport to home was arranged for everyone who needed it.”
Kate moved back into the office, leaving Marcus to finish up with Pearl.The trappings of wealth pressed in on her—the marble paperweight, the leather blotter embossed with gold initials, the Montblanc pens aligned like soldiers.Whitfield might have styled himself as a shepherd tending his flock.But he looked more like a CEO feathering his nest.
She leaned closer to the desk.Beneath the man’s lifeless arm, the wood surface was scored with deep carvings.Not random.Shapes.Letters.
Kate’s pulse throbbed faster.She recognized the alphabet immediately—Hebrew, scratched by a sharp instrument.
She photographed each mark, then pulled out her notepad.Quickly, she copied the characters down, one by one.Some were reversed, others oddly paired.A code.
“She’s gone to get the lists,” Marcus said, joining her.“And she’s going to see if Whitfield’s ol’ lady is up to speaking to us. What did you make of her?She seems keen to help, but she’s keeping something back.”
“Atbash,” Kate said, quietly.