Breach of Ethics Page 9

  I turned on my phone and saw a message from Nick wanting to meet that evening to get our stories straight for our visit to Gailworth’s phony church the next morning.

  At home I saw what Harry meant about my hair. It was plastered to my head like black seaweed. I sent a message to Nick asking him to show up at seven. That gave me time to shower, dry my hair, and apply a little makeup. I slipped on a pair of washed-denim jeans and a stretchy black turtleneck, then added silver hoop earrings and my favorite black suede boots.

  Harry’s cookies and hot chocolate had taken the edge off my appetite, but by the time Nick tapped on my door, my stomach felt hollow and I wished I had stopped for groceries on the way home. I let him in.

  “You look hot,” Nick said.

  “Thanks.” He did, too. In jeans and a Chamois shirt the color of warm wheat, he looked so touchable that I had to shove my hands in my pockets.

  “Hungry? I brought enough for two.” He held up a takeout bag from Wu’s Palace. The food was already filling my little apartment with the promising aroma of a Chinese dinner and making my salivary glands tingle.

  “I’ll set the table,” I said.

  “I’ll pour the wine. Let’s eat, then we’ll talk.”

  We ate quickly, finishing all the moo shu pork and Maureen Wu’s special shrimp chow mein. I disposed of the cartons and paper plates and started a pot of coffee. This wasn’t a night to drink more than one glass of wine.

  Rain started up again, pattering on the barn roof over our heads. I had stoked my little wood stove earlier, but Nick went out on the deck to bring in more wood. The weather outside and the cozy warmth inside worked against our resolve. We were supposed to be plotting and planning to pull the wool over Abel Gailworth’s eyes, but instead we were lulled into a setting that suggested intimacy and romance. I broke the spell by pouring us each a cup of coffee.

  “Guess it’s time to talk about the Gailworths,” Nick said. “You first.”

  “The problem for Natasha is that they claim to be vegans, but apparently don’t follow appropriate nutritional guidelines. They’ve allowed Melissa’s daughter to become dangerously malnourished.”

  “Let’s see if we can get a handle on what Gailworth is up to with his so-called church.” Nick sipped from his cup. “Is he just another con in it for money, or does he really believe his own dogma?”

  “Speaking of dogma, I visited his Abel’s Breath Ministry website and saw almost nothing concerning traditional religious beliefs based on the Bible or any other holy book.”

  “Let me have a look.”

  I pulled up the site on my laptop while Nick watched over my shoulder.

  “Look at the column of topics on the left.” I pointed at the screen. “See the link all the way down at the bottom? It says, ‘Is food optional?’ Do you suppose Gailworth is espousing some sort of breatharian philosophy?”

  Nick concentrated on the paragraphs on the screen. “His writing on the subject is convoluted, but he seems to be using the air-breather concept to make the point that the whole world is being brainwashed about food.” Nick pointed to a specific sentence. “He implies that nutritional guidelines are a government conspiracy designed to keep the economy stable.”

  I was horrified. “God, Nick. I’m afraid for Natasha. We can’t let her go back under his control. His philosophy could be a gateway into something even more dangerous. How can he possibly draw people into his congregation?”

  Nick was scowling, as grimly determined as I’d ever seen him. “By preying on desperate people seeking meaning or miracles. We need to hear Gailworth preach and see how effective he is.”

  “We need to observe Natasha’s mother, too, if she’s there. Melissa Gailworth plays the key role in her daughter’s life.” I paused and shook my head. “I wish I knew more about her. I don’t even know what she looks like. If her husband has won her over and she’s devoted to his cause, that little girl of hers could be in a lot of trouble.”

  Nick went to the counter and refilled his cup. “You’re right. We need to learn a lot more about Melissa Korba Gailworth. You wouldn’t happen to know her maiden name, would you?”

  I watched him standing at the counter, so cool and confident, and I realized how much I had missed him. “No idea, but I’ll see if I can find out.”

  “Good. On another topic, I gather you and Harry did a bit of legwork this afternoon.”

  “If you’ve talked to him, you probably know the whole story.” I held out my cup. As I watched Nick fill it, I realized how much I loved looking at his hands, even when he did something as simple as pouring coffee. His palms were broad, hinting at masculine strength, but the shape of his fingers had a sensuous quality that made me want to reach out and entwine them with mine. He put the pot back on the coffee maker and sat down again.

  If he’d noticed any longing in my eyes as I’d observed him, he didn’t let on. “Harry told me what he was able to observe about the layout of the third and fourth floors, which wasn’t much, but he said you should be the one to fill me in on the husband and wife argument you heard in the stairwell.”

  I thought for a moment. “I had no idea their relationship was in that kind of trouble. I know her better than I do him, because she chairs the Ethics Committee, but I don’t think I’ve ever been around them when they were together.”

  “So she was there at the meeting when the doctor threw the punch at your boss?”

  “Yes, but not for long. She adjourned the meeting and bolted, along with all of the other doctors on the committee.”

  “You think she had a dog in that fight?” Nick asked.

  “I hadn’t thought about it, but now that you mention it, she was pretty shaken when I broke the news to her about Lowe’s death.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “Shaken the way she’d be if someone told her that her secret lover had just been murdered?”

  “Damn.” I got up and walked into my little living room. “I can’t believe I didn’t make that connection.” Nick followed behind me and put his hands on my shoulders.

  “Don’t be too hard on yourself. You and Harry were following another train of thought this afternoon.” He steered me to my daybed and we sat side by side. He took my hand and held it. I loved the feeling.

  “What a complicated twist this is. Nick, you’re right. Snyder could have been having an affair with Lowe. What if her husband knew? What if Lowe’s wife knew?” I told him about my phone conversation with Rita Lowe.

  “Looks like you have a brand new inventory of potential suspects to consider.” Nick let go of my hand and yawned, stretching his arms wide. Always a sign in the past that he was in the mood for more than hand holding.

  A glance at my wall clock told me it was time to either send him away or ask him to stay.

  “I guess we’d better call it a night,” I said.

  “You’re sure you can get to sleep with all this on your mind?” He stood and pulled me up, folding his arms around me.

  “It might take a while, but I have to try. It’s almost midnight.” I stepped back just enough to leave the circle of his arms.

  “Okay, then. I’ll be back tomorrow morning at eight thirty to pick you up. Let’s see what we can find out about the Abel’s Breath Ministry.”

  “Wait ….” I followed him to the door. “We didn’t decide about our cover story. Are we engaged or married?”

  Nick’s eyes held mine. “Let’s just say we haven’t set a date.”

  I watched as he drove slowly up the lane. His signal light blinked as he reached the road fronting Jack and Amah’s house. It’s like our relationship, I thought, proceeding slowly, but heading in the right direction.

  Chapter 10

  The Sunday morning service at Abel’s Breath Ministry started at nine o’clock, but I was awake at five, so I put coffee on to brew and went to my computer. Curious about the name of Gailworth’s church, I entered Abel’s Breath in my search engine and found several links right away. I discovered that one of
the translations of the Biblical Abel’s name was breath. I realized that must be where Gailworth came up with the name. It could also explain why his website had a link to a breatharian site. Did he really believe life could be sustained by breath alone? More likely it was just a gimmick he’d come up with.

  Another translation of the name Abel was vanity. I decided to keep that in mind while Nick and I listened to Gailworth’s sermon. Vanity is an easy trait to spot in most people, but it’s usually harmless. Vain or narcissistic people are annoying to be around, but Gailworth, if he was a full-blown megalomaniac with some sort of religious delusion, could be something different. Megalomania could explain his interest in breatharianism. He might be delusional enough to think that faithful followers of his ministry could exist without food.

  It was time to close my laptop and search my closet for clothing that would attract the least notice possible. I didn’t want the Gailworths to have any reason to remember me if we crossed paths at the hospital. I found an outfit I’d borrowed from Amah to wear to a memorial service for one of the TMC volunteers. It was a two-piece navy dress, one size too large, with a matching pillbox hat. The hat’s veil, probably designed to hide the ravages of weeping for a lost loved one, would easily mask the upper half of my face.

  Nick arrived, wearing jeans and a heather-green corduroy blazer over a pristine white dress shirt open at the collar. I caught the scent of his cologne, a combination of lime and exotic spices that traveled straight to my reptilian brain and evoked a quick slide show of erotic memories. I stood there breathing him in, wearing the drab navy dress with my hair pulled up into a bun.

  “Nice outfit.” Nick grinned. “Did you borrow that dress from your grandmother?”

  “As a matter of fact, I did. It’s part of our strategy.”

  I told him I thought we should arrive at the last minute, sit in the back, and leave immediately when Gailworth’s Sunday morning service ended. Then I told him my theory about the definitions of Abel’s name. I said we should keep the two words in mind during our reconnaissance visit.

  “Breath and vanity.” Nick said. “I don’t know any living person who doesn’t breathe.” He grinned at me. “And everyone I know has at least a trace of vanity.”

  “True, but we’ve already seen the disastrous result of his approach to veganism, and if he’s charismatic enough to be convincing, the breath thing could endanger the health or lives of his congregation.”

  “How do we know the breath believers aren’t for real?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t. And I suppose anything’s possible. There are documented cases of people who remain perfectly healthy on one hour of sleep a day. But it’s a genetic mutation that only works for those who have that particular gene. It wouldn’t work for the rest of us.” I paused for a moment. “There’s always a chance this breatharian thing could be something similar. And a breatharian website I visited did make it clear that it takes years to work up to existing on only air and water.”

  “Still, that’s pretty far out.”

  “I know. But I’m not after the breatharian believers. Practicing their beliefs will prove them right or wrong. I just want to make sure Gailworth's dogma isn’t putting members of his congregation in jeopardy.”

  “Including his own stepdaughter,” Nick said.

  “Especially his own stepdaughter.”

  We located the former meat-packing building a few miles south of Timbergate near the railroad tracks. Definitely the low-rent district. Nick parked his hybrid SUV on the opposite side of the street to avoid getting blocked in by other cars in the parking lot. We waited in the car until it looked like everyone else had gone inside. A makeshift banner hung from the eaves, proclaiming the name of the place of worship. I counted only fifteen vehicles in the parking lot, so our chances of going unnoticed were dicey at best.

  “Ready to do this?” Nick asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe it’s a mistake.”

  “Maybe, but it’s now or never. Let’s take a peek. We can always turn tail if our instincts tell us not to go inside.”

  We crossed the street and made our way to the entry door. Nick pulled it open a few inches and we both peeked inside. Abel Gailworth stood at a lectern at the front of the room, coaxing his audience with a persuasive voice coated in honey. He looked like the guy every woman dreams of—or dreams her daughter will marry. Plenty of height—about six feet—and an impressive, well-proportioned physique, dressed in a suit that his congregation couldn’t afford if they pooled their paychecks for a year.

  He was handsome in an innocent, clean-cut way that inspired trust. His smile lit up the room, and he used it often in just the few minutes I observed him. The only off note was the color of his hair. It was a thick and wavy medium brown, but the sheen of it under the lights seemed unnatural, as if it might be dyed. He couldn’t be more than forty, but many people go gray at an early age. Maybe he wasn’t ready to accept that. Vanity, is thy name Abel?

  The congregation, seated on folding chairs near the front of the large interior space, consisted of about twenty adults and a few children. They filled only a fourth of the room. The back row of chairs was empty. Nick gave me a questioning look. Should we go inside? I shook my head. There was no way to get lost in that small crowd. I motioned him to close the door. We walked around the building and stood near a back door, where we could hear Gailworth’s preaching. Even muffled by the outside wall, I could appreciate the cadence and strength of his oratory. I tried to follow his message. It seemed to be offering solace to the unhappy, lonely, and depressed.

  “Do you need a friend?” Gailworth called out.

  “Yes,” the voices shouted.

  “Do you need a bridge over troubled water?” I heard Simon and Garfunkel’s signature song playing in the background.

  “Yes.” This time the chorus of responses was mingled with sobs. What he said didn’t matter; it was the delivery that seemed to mesmerize his followers. Each time he paused for a response, we heard the voices of his congregation calling out, “Praise Abel.”

  “I will lay me down,” Gailworth said. “I will be your bridge. Let us breathe together.”

  “Let us breathe,” they replied.

  As the volume went up on the final verse of “Bridge Over Troubled Water,” Nick very gently turned the handle of the back door and slipped it open just enough to peek inside. He immediately pulled back and quietly closed the door.

  “Let’s go,” he whispered. I followed him back across the street where his car was parked. As he pulled away from the curb, I asked why he was in a hurry to leave after looking in the back door.

  “What did you see? You acted like something spooked you.”

  “I saw what looked like two bodyguards. They were standing in the wings on each side of Gailworth’s stage.”

  “Did they see you?”

  “No. They both had their backs to me, but anyone in the congregation who took his eyes off Gailworth could have noticed the door open.”

  “That’s why you’re in a hurry to get us away from there?”

  “Right. I didn’t want those goons to come out and find us.”

  “But why bodyguards for such a tiny congregation? Maybe they were a couple of guys waiting to pass around the collection plates?”

  “Maybe, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out.”

  Nick pulled into the driveway at Amah and Jack’s house and drove down the lane to the llama barn. We went up the steps to the deck and paused to look out at the pasture. The day had warmed into the high fifties. The past two weeks of intermittent rain and sunshine had encouraged tender green grass to spring up. Jack’s grazing llamas were busy mowing it down as fast as it appeared, leaving the field as smooth and flat as a putting green. We inhaled a few breaths of freshly washed, sweet-smelling air before going inside. No matter how sweet the air, I wasn’t ready to give up eating.

  I started coffee and told Nick I wanted to change out of my church-lady outfit. />
  “Need help?” He grinned and started toward me. “I could lead you into temptation.”

  I was tempted, but I poked a finger at his chest. “No thanks, I’ll manage. Go ahead and raid the kitchen if you’re hungry.” I grabbed jeans and a sweatshirt from my closet, did a quick change in my bathroom and brushed out my hair, letting it hang loose. Back in the kitchen, Nick had two cups poured. He had taken me at my word. There were two bowls on the table, one filled with my stash of dark chocolate kisses and the other with my incredibly expensive macadamia nuts.

  “Ah,” he said, “Aimee’s back. What did you do with that other woman?”

  “She’s in the closet. I see you’ve discovered my two favorite health foods.”

  “Yup, we could live forever on this stuff.” He popped a few macadamia nuts in his mouth.

  I unwrapped a kiss and bit off the tip. “Now let’s decide whether we accomplished anything by spying on Abel’s Breath.”

  “I’ll go first,” Nick said. “It’s either some sort of two-bit scam Gailworth has going, or a front for something he’s tied into that’s bigger.”

  “You got all that from seeing those two men standing in the wings?”

  “Trust me. They had a certain ‘look.’ I’ve seen that look a time or two.”

  “What can we do with that?” I asked. “We’re trying to decide whether Natasha is safe in this guy’s custody. What you’re saying doesn’t seem to bode well for her or her mother.”

  “That reminds me … did you see her mother when you glanced inside the front door?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t any idea what Melissa Gailworth looks like. I was hoping if she was there, she’d be on the stage with him, or at least he would acknowledge her presence.”

  “Nothing like that happened.” Nick frowned. “You’ve never seen her at the hospital?”