BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 12

LOUIS LEWIS

GOD HAS DEALT TO EACH ONE A MEASURE OF FAITH (Romans 12:3)

            “You’ve heard the saying you clean up well?” Inga Likas, AKA Inga Cognito asked me.

            “Yes, I have,” I replied grudgingly. Years on the police force had given me keen detecting skills and I knew what was coming next.

            “Well, YOU dirty down well,” Inga told me gleefully.

            Inga had insisted she wanted to be bait in an attempt to capture her sister’s killer. With her old friend from the alien cult having been found strangled to death more than a thousand miles away, I argued the endeavor was futile.

            However, we received some information from a mole inside the cult. Two more of Bryson Bronx’s henchmen had been deployed to the Midwest. The mole was good. He somehow tracked the flight plan for Bronx’s private jet. Low and behold, it landed at the Eastern Iowa airport just long enough to drop off a couple passengers, refuel, and return to California.

            We all agreed someone needed to stay close to the courageous pistol of a young lady. The best prospect, Brock Storm, was too physically fit and imposing to pass as a vagabond, so he was out. Brent, Inga’s brother was out because he would likely be recognized, having lived on the compound for several years. Benito Bonnao was called away by his company. Seven was out because he was a public figure. Plus, forgive me Seven, Inga was more likely to protect him.

            He would later tell me God’s strength is made perfect in weakness. Therefore he will most gladly boast in his infirmities (2 Corinthians 12:9). In Seven’s defense, he wasn’t a wimp. Well, not necessarily a wimp. It was hard to tell when he hangs around the likes of his cousin Brock Storm, who clearly looks like he could have been a former NFL linebacker.

            So it seemed I was the best option to work with Inga. Especially since I was currently unemployed. I had stopped shaving and dug out an old coat from my Army days. I found some boots that should have been thrown out, and a pair of jeans that used to be too tight. Thanks to stress and anxiety due to personal upheaval, I easily got them buttoned.

            “Have you lost some weight, Double Lou?” Inga asked.

            For all of the six years I was a police lieutenant, I was known by many as Triple Lou. I neither liked nor disliked that moniker. But now that I was only Double Lou, I didn’t like it one bit.

            “Yes I have, thank you very much,” I replied, liking what seemed to be a compliment. Leave it to Inga to take it the other way in a matter of seconds.

            “That’s good, cause you look like you’ve aged ten years in the last few weeks,” she added happily.

            “You’re so kind, my Dear,” I replied with a bit of sarcasm in my tone.

            Her arctic blue eyes were wide, but not innocent. “I was just trying to be honest.”

            “Okay, young one, let’s get something straight. You know the ins and outs of the homeless community. But I know public safety and police work. So although you will be the guide through the, ah, um, homeless circuit, if I demand you jump, you ask how high.”

            These instructions came back to bite me a few hours later. There were five of us in radio communication. Zella and Destiny were keeping surveillance in a vehicle. Brock was, well, somewhere. That man is good! He was keeping tabs on us, but I had no clue where he was. And I was a trained professional. His chameleon abilities, despite his size, made me wonder why he couldn’t be hanging out with little Miss Smart Mouth instead of me.

            But I did gain a whole new respect for Inga. Not only for her resilience in persevering through the life she had led, but her faith despite many trying circumstances. My time with her proved a blessing given my own trying circumstances. But we did have hiccups, like this story that I will continue to share.

            We had received some pertinent information from Brock’s reconnaissance. He was certain that he had spotted Inga’s stalkers. So we needed to get her out of the public eye and into deeper seclusion to see if they would tail her. All the while keeping her safe. I had an idea.

            “Listen, Glow Eyes,” I said. “Let’s make it look like I’m dealing drugs. Let’s make it look like I’m supplying you in exchange for sex.”

            “Yuck!”

            “I said make it LOOK like we are going off for a rendezvous.”

            “No way!”

            “Remember, when I say jump, you ask how high.”

            “I think I’ll take a dive instead.”

            The others were able to listen in on our conversation, so Brock gave his two cents worth.

            “Lou has a good plan, Inga. What’s your problem? You two will just make it look like you’re going somewhere private for, um, intimacy? Obviously you’re not gonna do anything.”

            “I have my dignity.”

            “What do you care what a couple of scum bags think?” Brock wanted to know.

            “It’s not them I’m concerned about. I have some friends in the community. What if they see?”

            “I may not be Denzel Washington, but…”

            “More like Fat Albert,” she said, cutting me off.

            “Are you actually Seven Sallie’s daughter?”

            “No, but I’ll take that as a compliment.”

            “Compliment? As much grief as you two give each other?”

            “It’s friendly fire,” she shrugged. “I love the Sallie’s, they’re good people.”

            “Well, calling me Fat Albert doesn’t seem like friendly fire.”

            “True enough,” she admitted and then briefly chewed her lip. “I’m sorry. I guess you need to know who you’re teasing. Now that I know that you’re rather sensitive, I’ll be careful.”

            I opened my mouth to protest but was interrupted by our group radio communication.

            “Inga, do you have a better plan than Lou’s?” Brock asked. “Do you want to catch those responsible for your sister’s death, as well as Pricilla’s?”

            “These aren’t the guys that did it.”

            “Maybe not,” I said. “But when they become prime suspects, odds are they will turn on the actual culprits, as well as Bronx himself.”

            “Okay, I’ll do it,” she said stoically. Then with a smirk curling her lips, she asked, “So what do we do, Cupcake?”

            “Cupcake?” I frowned. “Fat Albert to Cupcake?”

            She shrugged. “Isn’t that friendly enough fire? Plus, you want it to look legit, right? I guess I’m hot or cold. If I’m in, I’m in.”

            “Alright then, Sweety Pie, we’ll…”

            “Okay, let’s stop with the nicknames,” she said with a wince like she bit into something sour.

            In public view, Inga and I stayed close by at first, but separate. When we both got word that she was being watched by the possible bad guys, we met at our rendezvous point. It was a large oak tree by some railroad tracks. We made it look like I gave her a sample of something. She made it look like she wanted more. I rubbed knuckles gently on her cheek. She subtly recoiled and shook her head. I shrugged and began to slowly amble away. Another prop I had was a cane.

            Inga crossed her arms in disgust and watched me go. A minute later she pursued me, walking at a normal pace. When she caught up to me, I stopped, we talked briefly, and then I proceeded to amble on with her slowly marching by my side. I looked around, pulled a flask from my jacket and handed it to her. She looked around, took a drink of herbal tea, and then winced as though the supposed alcohol had a bite.

            Earlier I had made a makeshift tent in a secluded area out of tarps and that was the destination we headed to. Once inside, we waited. I felt restless, fidgety. It had been years since I had been undercover. Yet feisty little Inga seemed calm as she pulled out a pocket size New Testament. I watched her lips move silently as she read.

            I sighed before speaking softly. “Lord, now would be a good time for the rapture.”

            Inga’s eyes darted from her little Bible to me. “Rapture? Don’t tell me you believe in a secret rapture?”

            Although I had many years of attending church under my belt, I was a spiritual child. During my entire adult life, my spiritual growth had come from an hour in church once a week. Sometimes only once a month when I was over worked. So I lamely replied to the girl young enough to be my daughter, “Of course, most Evangelical Christians believe in the rapture.”

            I should have heard from my own mouth my mistake. “You mean just like most Christians think the Biblical Sabbath was legitimately changed to Sunday? Rapture isn’t even found in the Bible. It’s a theory based of a few vague texts like one shall be taken and the other left. (Matthew 24:40) The theory didn’t even exist until around the 1830’s and was popularized back then primarily by the British preacher John Nelson Darby.”

            “Seems like a pretty good theory to me. What else could one taken and the other left mean but the rapture?”

            “If you read a couple verses down, Jesus explains that his second advent will simply be unexpected. Nobody knows the day or hour. But diligent students of the Bible know when it is close. Read 1 Thessalonians 4:16-18 which tells of Christ’s second coming. It’s with a shout and the voice of an arch angel. That doesn’t sound secret. Revelation 1:7 says every eye will see Him, even those who killed Him.. In Acts 1:11, angels declared as Jesus ascended into heaven that He would return in like manner.”

            I thought Inga and I had come to the Sabbath truth at roughly the same time. Why did she seem much more advanced in her knowledge? Although she told me these things in a serious manner, putting away her sharp tongue, my spiritual pride was wounded. And spiritual coupled with pride isn’t a good thing. Was it a case of not being able to teach an old dog new tricks?

            No, that should never be the case. If we’re humble and teachable, we can learn new truths at any stage of life. Inga simply had a deeper spiritual hunger than me at that time. But then she did something that had me question her spiritual maturity. She did something that crossed the line of appropriate. It happened right after Brock gave us an update.

            “They followed at a distance and are watching your makeshift tent,” his voice told us through the radio waves. “But I think they are suspicious of a trap. It looks like they are getting ready to retreat.”

            Inga had an intense look in her eyes as she chewed nervously on her lower lip. She barked an order. “Turn around, Lou.”

            This puzzled me, but I did as instructed. But then curiosity killed the cop. I turned back around as she began to take her top off. She stopped lifting her shirt at her rib cage. She demanded, “I said turn around.”

            I obeyed but as I did I put forth my own demand. “What on earth are you doing?”

            “This little mission will only take a couple minutes but face the west until I tell you I’m finished.”

            “Are you undressing?”

            “Yes. We are trying to make them think we are doing something untoward, but apparently they are not convinced.”

            “Well, I’m not getting undressed and going out in broad daylight!”

            “Oh yuck! Why would you think I wanted you to join me?”

            “You know, you’re not doing any favors to my self-esteem. And you shouldn’t be going out there without any clothes on, somebody might see you.”

            “That’s the point, we need to make them genuinely think we are… You know.”

            “Inga, we are on public property!”

            “Yeah, a good half mile from anything. It took you a half hour to walk out here.”

            “I needed to make them think I’m physically challenged.”

            “You mean you’re not?”

            “You know you…”

            “Be quiet and hand me that flask of tea.”

            I pulled it out of my jacket, turned and handed it to her.

            “Dang it, Lou! I told you to hand it, not turn around.”

            “Sorry, it was, a, a, reflex.”

            “How embarrassing! You pervert! You wanted to look!”

            “I didn’t do it on purpose and I’m no pervert. If you don’t care about those creeps as well as Brock seeing you in your birthday suit, what’s the big deal with me?”

            “You’re like three feet away, all they will be able to tell is that I’m naked from a distance.”

            I heard, not watched Inga take a whole mouthful of water and exit the tent. Then she made a vomit sound and then wretched for minute. Suddenly the tarp flew open, and she quickly came back in. “Lou! What part of stay turned around did you not understand?”

            “I’m sorry, cops are curious. Maybe you should have explained the plan instead of just winging it.”

            “Former cop.”

            “Oh, so I suddenly lost years of police behavior, is that what you think?”

            “I guess as a professional order giver, you don’t have the ability to take them. How embarrassing! How am I supposed to face you going forward?”

            “Listen, I’ve seen hundreds, thousands of crime scene photos.”

            “Oh wow, thanks. You didn’t do my ego any favors comparing me to a crime scene.”

            “I’m just saying I’ve seen it all.”

            “You got that right, you were staring right at me.”

            I groaned. “I meant that my seconds long glimpse. Unintentional, mind you, is very small potatoes compared to everything I’ve seen as a police officer.”

            “Well, that was interesting,” Brock’s voice came through my ear bud. “Definitely took me by surprise.”

            “Tell me about it.”

            “Tell you about what?” Inga asked irritably. Her ear buds weren’t back in yet. I heard her clothes rustling as she put them back on. I most definitely didn’t turn to look as I spoke. “It’s Brock. Your antics took him by surprise too.”

            “I wouldn’t have recommended that, but Inga’s ploy did work,” Brock said. “They’re on the move and coming at you. I can’t see what kind of weapons they have. Be ready, Lou, there are two of them and I’m right behind them.”

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 7

SEVEN SALLIE

TRUST IN THE LORD WITH ALL YOUR HEART AND LEAN NOT ON YOUR OWN UNDERSTANDING (Proverbs 3:5)

            We had just found out that Inga’s brother was at the police station. After Triple Lou informed us that Inga’s brother was in town, she practically sprinted toward my car.

            “Why don’t you all ride with me?” Lieutenant Louis Lewis offered.

            This caused Inga to do an about face and she boogied to the lieutenant’s car instead.

            “But how will we get home?” I asked.

            “I’ll bring you back,” he shrugged. “If you ride with me, it will give us a chance to talk and for me to ask more questions.”

            The three of us, Inga, Zella, and myself began to get into the back seat of the Lieutenant’s unmarked police car. Triple Lou shook his head impatiently. “You all don’t need to get in the backseat; you’re not under arrest. Inga, why don’t you sit up front?”

            Inga had a look on her face like a child being punished, but she slowly removed her foot from the back seat of the car and went to the front. The main thing we learned from listening in on Triple Lou’s interrogation was that the other lady she came to Iowa with also had been a resident of the alien cult’s compound. This would prove to be a key factor with Inga’s sister turning up in the Midwest from the west coast.

            Inga’s reunion with her brother was odd. Both had a look of fascination on their faces when they saw each other. Yet when they hugged, there was more formality in the embrace rather than warmth. They also didn’t look like brother and sister. Did the three siblings all have different fathers?

            Brent’s black hair was slicked back. His close set, dark eyes looked hard. He was wearing a black shirt with a grey tie, black slacks, and shiny black cowboy boots. His appearance made me think of a mafia hit man. His deep voice was California cool. “Well little sis, you just kind of fell off the map. I was starting to think I’d never see you again.”

            “What about you? You joined the Marines and closed the door on us.”

            “No I didn’t. Pal wrote to me, but you didn’t.”

            Inga shrugged. “I guess I was mad at you for leaving us. I suppose you know she’s… Gone, our Pal, Pal?”

            I noticed his jaw clench and he stoically said, “Yeah.”

            “Pal, Pal,” she croaked. Then Brent pulled her into another embrace. This time there was more warmth, and he kissed the top of her head as she cried into his left pectoral. He looked rather fit when his biceps pressed against the fabric of his shirt as he held his sister in his arms.

            “How did you know to come here?” Inga asked after she pushed away from him. “From wherever it is you’re living?”

            “I’ve been in Miami for the last year or so,” he replied. “When my hitch was up in the Corps, I started working for a high end security firm.”

            I broke in and asked if the name of his firm was such and such.

            “Yeah,” he replied with raised eyebrows. “How did you know?”

            “I took a guess,” I said with a shrug. “My cousin Brock worked for a high end security company with an office in Miami. That would have been before your time though. But I got to know one of his coworkers who is still there. Do you know a Benito Bonanno?”

            He smirked. “I certainly I do; he’s my supervisor.”

            “Good guy,” I added.

            “Benny’s the best. I was ready to rejoin the Marines after a few months. I was working for a real (Expletive) in LA and was gonna quit. Benny happened to be out there at the time on an assignment and took a liking to me. He talked me into staying with the firm and moving to Miami and for working for him. Man, I never thought I would run into somebody here who knows Benito Bonanno. Small world.”

            “Speaking of small worlds,” Inga cut in. “How did you end up out here when Paloma was only discovered hours ago?”

            “Pal called me two days ago and said you were in trouble.”

            “What made her think I was in trouble?”

            “Did you come out here with Jane Joplin?”

            “I did.”

            “Well apparently she went to Bryson Bronx and told him where you were. I imagine she got a handsome reward.”

            “That traitor,” Inga said quietly. “So how did Pal find out?”

            “Do you remember a girl by the name of Priscilla Rosenwinkle?”

            “Of course I do,” Inga smiled. “Silly Priscilly. She was a little redhaired pistol. She always reminded me of Pippi Longstocking.”

            “Well she’s all grown up and living in Las Vegas, and it turns out she and Paloma got together occasionally.  Her sister, who still lives on the compound, got wind of Jane’s agenda. She heard that Bronx was sending two of his guys to Iowa. She also heard that she gave him your phone number and had it tapped. That’s why she came out here in person without giving you a heads up.”

            “So she died trying to save me,” Inga said quietly, staring at the floor in contemplation.

            “Yeah, I suppose so,” he said gently. “But don’t you dare think this was your fault.”

            “Pal and me, we had a falling out, you know,” Inga said quietly, wiping a leaked tear with a finger.

            “No I didn’t know.”

            “You know what she was doing in Vegas, right?”

            “Working at a casino,” Brent replied with a little shrug.

            “Hardly,” Inga snorted. “She took up the trade that is only legal in Nevada.”

            Brent gazed at his sister in disbelief. “No way.”

            “Yes way,” Inga responded. “That’s why I came out here with Jane. She said she knew someone, said we’d get jobs. Neither happened. She couldn’t find her supposed friend, and we got no jobs. We ended up in a homeless camp, and not long after that, she bailed on me. Eventually I ended up getting busted for shop lifting at a grocery store. That’s how I met Mr. and Mrs. Sallie here.”

            Inga waved an open hand at Zella and me.

            “So you’re what, a lawyer?” Brent asked. “I assumed you were a cop.”

            I opened my mouth to explain, but Inga spoke first. “He’s a windbag.”

            I closed my mouth, pursed my lips in exasperation, and looked at Inga with hooded eyes. My wife put her mouth to my ear. “Honey, you look like Daffy Duck when he’s exasperated with Bugs Bunny.”

            I relaxed my expression. Inga stepped to me and put an arm around my lower back. Looking at her brother, she said, “I didn’t mean that. There’s just something about Seven that makes me want to tease him all the time. Truth is, he and Zella took me in. They’re saintly people.”

            Inga sniffed and wiped a tear with the hand that wasn’t clutching my waist. What range of emotions the poor girl was enduring. I put my arm around her and gave her an affectionate hug.

            “Hey, wait, you’re Seven Sallie,” Brent replied with a frown.

            “Yes sir, I am he,” I acknowledged with mock nobility.

            He nodded. “Okay, I see what Inga meant by windbag.”

            I felt the Daffy Duck expression return to my face. Brent must have noticed and immediately corrected himself. “No, no! I didn’t mean it that way. Just that her joke, windbag, you talk for a living. On your podcast. I’m sure you’ve heard of Josiah Brimstone?”

            “Of course,” I replied. “He’s one my biggest detractors.”

            Brent nodded. Josiah Brimstone had been known as one of the foremost, so called, prosperity gospel preachers. But over the last year or so, he became a champion for Sunday laws, evangelizing their importance. He had also, very publicly, criticized me and my podcast. So I publicly offered to open the scriptures with him on his own program. On that point he was yet to respond, and I guessed he probably wouldn’t.

            “Well, until I took this emergency leave, he was the latest client I have been assigned to,” Brent explained. “Another colleague and myself have been traveling the country with him the last month on his speaking tour.”

            I lifted my hands in surrender. “For my part, I don’t hold that against you.”

            “Hey, just to be clear, there’s nothing to hold against. I am not an admirer or follower of his at all. As a matter of fact, my association with him has only made me more ensconced in atheism.”

            “I’m an atheist too,” I told him.

            He looked at me like I had two heads. Then he snorted and shook his head. “Figures, another religious phony.”

            “I’m no phony, I believe everything I espouse on my podcast.”

            “Then how on earth can you be an atheist?”

            “How about you tell me about the God you don’t believe in?”

            For the next minute or two it sounded like he was reading from a Josiah Brimstone script. But he quoted disparagingly, especially the concept of an eternally burning hell. With a look on his face like he bit into a lemon, he said, “What kind of God would burn people for eternity just because they choose not to believe in him?”

            “See, I told you I was an atheist. I don’t believe in that God either.”

            I went on to explain that a thorough study of the scriptures concerning hellfire and the state of the dead proved that hell, so to speak, was an event at the end of time, and not a place of eternal torment. (You can obtain free study guides on these subjects from Amazing Facts. Simply ask for study guide #11 ‘Is the Devil in Charge of Hell?’ and/or #10 ‘Are the Dead Really Dead?’)

            The timing might have been odd for an impromptu Bible study. But we were soon to be distracted from it. Two uniformed officers entered with a bedraggled looking man in handcuffs. He was shaking violently, whether from some type of drug withdrawal or fear I didn’t know. But when one of the officers spoke, it sent a chill up my spine.

            “Lou, we found Paloma Likas’s cell phone and purse in a grocery cart full of this man’s belongings.”

BLACK SABBATH

CHAPTER 4

SEVEN SALLIE

WHEREAS YOU DO NOT KNOW WHAT WILL HAPPEN TOMORROW. FOR WHAT IS YOUR LIFE? IT IS EVEN A VAPOR THAT APPEARS FOR A LITTLE TIME AND THEN VANISHES AWAY (James 4:14)

            A knock at my front door revealed Lieutenant Louis Lewis standing on my stoop. It had been a couple weeks since he and FBI Agent Nora Medora had stopped by to threaten me. Oh, they called it a warning, but I clearly saw restrained hostility in their demeanors.

            “Good afternoon, Lieutenant,” I greeted, I hoped cheerfully. I could feel my blood pressure spike a bit. There is no fear in love, I reminded myself (1 John 4:18). Followed by love your enemies (Matthew 5:44).

            “Afternoon,” he responded, eyeing me cooly.

            No fear in love, love your enemies, my mind repeated. “I’d like to say to what do I owe the pleasure, but I can’t help wondering what I said on podcast that made you show up. I’ve tried to be, shall I say, cautious, since you and Nora were kind enough to warn me.”

            What I didn’t acknowledge to the police officer was that I was choosing my battles wisely. And hopefully it was not as a wise guy, which was my sinful tendency. I needed to seek the Holy Spirit’s guidance with timing in what to say and do. I needed to follow the example of Jesus when He said things like, ‘Tell no one,’ and ‘My time is not yet.’

            “This has nothing to do with your podcast, Sallie,” Triple Lou said. “I need to ask you a few questions about Inga Likas. Also known as Inga Cognito.”

            “Did she get into some trouble?”

            “Yeah, I’d say she did.” He sighed and ran a hand over his face. Then his tired looking dark brown eyes met mine. “I’m afraid she’s been murdered.”

            “What!”

            “I’m sorry. There was no easy way to break it to you.”

            “That can’t be!”

            “I’m afraid it is. Her body was found down by the river in a patch of woods off of first street. Now I know she had been staying with you, so there are a couple things I need to know.”

            “You don’t understand, she…”

            “Once again,” he interrupted. “I’m sorry to break it to you like this, but…”

            “Lieutenant,” I interrupted. “You…”

            “Maybe we should sit,” he interrupted. “How about at the kitchen table?”

            “Yeah, that would be fine,” I said and then sighed. “Can I get you something to drink? Relaxed Mind tea? Sparkling water?”

            “No thanks. Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “Please, call me Seven.”

            “Now, Mr. Sallie, when was the last time you saw her?”

            “About fifteen minutes ago.”

            “Fifteen minutes ago? That’s not possible.”

            Inga walked up to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down. “Do you have any leads on who killed me?”

            Triple Lou stared at Inga in astonishment. It was as if he had lived two thousand years ago and witnessed Jesus raise Lazarus from the dead.

            “It.. It’s you,” Lieutenant Louis Lewis stammered.

            “It’s me,” Inga said with a shrug. She was amazingly calm for having just found out that she had been murdered. Yet I noticed her fingers were trembling slightly. Then her lower lip developed a bit of a quiver as she asked, “So what makes you think I’ve been murdered?”

            “I swear, I thought for sure it was you,” Triple Lou said mildly, still looking at Inga in disbelief. “I’m sorry if I upset you.”

            Now I noticed Inga’s eyes were becoming watery, so I spoke up. “Lieutenant, can you tell us why you thought Inga had been murdered?”

            “I saw her for myself,” he replied, as he turned his gaze onto me.

            “What did you see?” I asked.

            He looked back to Inga. “I don’t know if you want to hear this.”

            “Give it to me straight, Triple Lou,” Inga said flatly.

            Now I am obnoxious by nature. But by the grace of God, I no longer purposely try to get a rise out of people since giving my life to Christ. The old me would have smiled at Inga’s disrespectful tone. But the new creature inside my flesh cringed at the use of the flippant name she used for the gruff police officer. Yet it seemed to roll off his shoulders as if she had called him sir, officer, or lieutenant.

            “Well, for one thing, it looked like your hair,” he told us. “But I see you got it cut.”

            Inga’s dread locks were gone, and her dark brown hair was cut into a pixie style.

            Being rather dense I said, “Didn’t you recognize the face?”

            “It was beaten beyond recognition.”

            “What else?” Inga asked stoically.

            “Carved in her flesh, on her torse to be exact, were the words, ‘Inga Cognito is a fake.’ Also on her person was a Nevada ID that called her Inga Marie Likas… So I hope you can see why I was confident that the… Why I thought it was you.”

            “Did she have any tattoos?” Inga asked hesitantly.

            “Why yes, she did. On the back side of her wrist. A banner that said love conquers all, surrounded by flowers and…”

            “1 Corinthians 13:4-8 under the flowers,” Inga interrupted.

            “Yes,” Triple Lou said solemnly and then paused. “Who is she, Inga?”

            But instead of replying, Inga’s chin began to quiver, and tears seemed to pop out of her eye socks. She coughed out a sob, covered her mouth with her hand and ran to the bedroom.

            “Must be a relative of hers,” the Lieutenant said quietly.

            I shook off the shock I felt and said, “I better go comfort her… Or something.”

            I got up slowly from the table. Although my heart broke for Inga, I selfishly longed for my wife. I mumbled, “Zella, you should have been home a half hour ago, where are you?”

            Low and behold the front door popped open and my beautiful wife stepped into our home. I stepped quickly to her, and we embraced. Having noticed the Lieutenant’s car in the driveway, she whispered into my ear, “Are you in trouble again?”

            I explained the reason for Triple Lou’s presence. My wife is mentally tough because she is spiritually grounded in the love of Christ. She pushed away from me and briskly walked toward Inga. I slowly walked back to the table, sat, and then sighed as I eased into a chair.

            Triple Lou and I sat in silence for a couple minutes. Then I said, “Maybe you could come back later, or we could come down to the station later.”

            “I really need to talk to her as soon as possible. If we don’t catch the perpetrator within the first forty eight hours, the odds of ever finding him drop dramatically.”

            “So you think it’s a him?”

            “In most cases of a brutal murder it’s a him,” he told me sternly. “But to be fair how about I change it to ‘them.’”

            “Them? So you think it’s more than one person?”

            “Sallie, why do you always have to be so difficult?”

            “I don’t mean to be, Sir. I just like to explore every detail of a subject.”

            “Ya know, even when you’re being respectful, I somehow feel that you’re mocking.”

            “I’m sorry you feel that way. On the other hand, we live in a dog eat dog world. Your paranoia could be looked at as just being cautious.”

            “I’m not paranoid,” he said testily. Then he forced a smile and said with eerie calmness, “I’m not paranoid.”

            He glanced at the door that concealed Inga and my wife. Then his eyes shifted to me. Then he looked back at the door. Then he looked back at me. Then he muttered to himself, “Oh nuts.”

            “So Lieutenant, do you have time to investigate a murder while at the same time enforcing Sunday laws?”

            His eyes narrowed with distaste, and I put up my hands in a surrender gesture. “I’m sorry how that came across. When I’m under stress, it gets hard to control my natural bent for flippancy.”

            “Be careful Sallie, you do realize you’re a suspect?”

            “What! Surly you don’t think I killed… Whoever it is that was killed?”

            He sighed. “At this point everybody is a suspect. But no, I don’t think you did it.”

            “Well, good.”

            “Yet,” he added cooly.

            After a minute of awkward silence, Triple Lou said without looking at me, “I am off of overseeing Sunday ordinances though.”

            “Yeah? How come?”

            “Conflict of interest.”

            “May I ask what the conflict of interest is?”

            “You may,” he replied but then remained silent.

            “Well?”

            “I just said you could ask, I didn’t say I would answer.”

            Despite the violent death of somebody seemingly related to Inga somehow, I laughed. “It sure can be hard to like somebody that’s flippant.”

            “Tell me about it,” he said.

            “Well, I wanted to understand your conflict of interest, and I found it annoying when you responded with flippancy instead.”

            He still eyed me with narrow eyes, but the corner of his mouth twitched. “’Tell me about it’ was a figure of speech, not a request. You’re something else, Sallie.”

            “That’s what my wife always tells me.”

            “I bet she does,” he said, sighed and rose from the table. He began to slowly do laps around the kitchen table. “I’ve been studying out this Sabbath issue with my Bible and concordance. Now I was believer that we kept Sunday in honor of the resurrection. But then I discovered in the book of Acts, in particular chapters thirteen and seventeen, that they kept the Sabbath. Jesus had been long risen from the dead by then.

            “Then I looked up Constantine and how he mandated on March 7, AD 321, dies solis meaning ‘The Day of the Sun’ in latin, making Sunday the official day of rest.”

            “Lieutenant, that’s awesome!”

            “Yeah, well, truth is truth. I also got to thinking about the first scripture I read on the Sabbath. Genesis 2:3 says God sanctified it. I couldn’t find anywhere in scripture where God sanctified or made holy, the first day of the week.”

            “That’s because He didn’t.”

            “Right,” he replied as if he didn’t want to admit it. But then he acknowledged, “So, I told the Captain I didn’t want to oversee the Sunday laws anymore.”

            “How’d that go over?”

            “Okay, but now he regards me with suspicion.”

            “Ya mean he didn’t before?”

            “Sallie, do you always have to…” He grinned, shook his head and said, “No, he didn’t.”

            The bedroom door opened, and Inga and Zella came out walking hand in hand. Inga’s arctic blue eyes were red rimmed as she said in a childlike voice, “I’m ready to talk, Lieutenant. I don’t know how much help I’ll be, but I want you to find who did this.”

            “Okay,” Triple Lou said with surprising gentleness. “Let’s start with this. Do you know who she is?”

            “Her name is Paloma, she’s my sister.”