Baptism for the Dead

by R. R. Irvine

  Traveler smiled at the memory and began lathering his face with shaving cream.

  “Would you be open to an old man’s advice?” his father asked.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “There’s a fire going in the living room. The refrigerator’s full of food. I’ve got a fresh bottle of brandy. Why not take it easy and wait for the weather to break?”

  “I don’t remember you sitting back and putting your feet up when you were on a case.”

  “Don’t quote me my own habits.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Traveler said, scraping at his whiskers.

  “Normally I wouldn’t say a thing.” Martin’s head shook. “But how the hell can you work for a bunch of people who actually think they can turn themselves into gods through good deeds?”

  “ „As man is,’ ” Traveler recited, “ „God once was; as God is, man may become.’ ” Or so the church believed. His father would have translated that as keep your nose clean and one day you’ll die, go to heaven, and be given a nice little planet of your own to play God with.

  “Aw, to hell with trying to talk some common sense into you,” Martin said. “I’ll go cook breakfast. You’ll need a good meal to keep warm.”

  Ten minutes later Martin had bacon and eggs and sourdough toast on the table. They ate listening to the radio. The news was the same as usual, bad. But the weather forecast sounded hopeful.

  When they were finished, his father made a face and pushed his chair back from the table. “The trouble with cooking is that food never tastes good when you prepare it for yourself. Let somebody else do the work and you can’t stop shoveling it in.”

  With that, he poured them both a second cup of coffee. As soon as he sipped it he said, “This tastes like hell, too, but at least it’s hot.”

  Traveler smacked his lips as was expected of him. His father shook his head in disgust. But Traveler knew he was pleased by the compliment just the same.

  “Come on,” the old man said gruffly, “let’s take a look at the weather for ourselves.”

  He led the way out onto the porch, which ran across the entire front of the house, supported by wooden posts that got eaten by termites once a year.

  Foot-long icicles hung from the roof with no sign of melting. Traveler blew out breath that billowed like cigarette smoke.

  His father waded out into the snow and stared up at the sky. When Traveler joined him, the old man pointed to a patch of blue directly overhead. “My father used to say that if there’s enough blue in the sky to make a pair of breeches, that means an end to the storm.”

  “I thought you told me that applied only to rain.”

  “You remember that, do you?”

  “I remember just about everything you’ve told me over the years.” Traveler hugged his father around the shoulders.

  “Let go,” Martin complained. “I’m an old man, remember?”

  “I don’t feel so young myself at the moment. But what the hell. As long as the Jeep can move, I’ve got to keep looking for answers.”

  “I’ll be here when you get back.” Martin fought off a smile. “Where can I go without my car?”

  “You told me yourself that it was a day for napping in front of a fire.”

  “There you go again, quoting me.”

  12

  THE MONEY in Federal Heights rated special treatment when it came to snow removal. Even so, the roads were treacherous. Traveler passed only one other vehicle on his way to the Varney house, and it, too, had four-wheel drive.

  When he got out of the car, the sun appeared briefly, casting black shadows against the snow. The momentary brightness left him seeing dark spots in front of his eyes as he approached the bleak brick house.

  Pearl Varney answered the door, still playing her housekeeper role. She was dressed in black, like a widow.

  “Yes?” she said as though she’d never seen Traveler before in her life.

  He reminded her who he was.

  “I wasn’t told that you had an appointment.” She positioned herself in the middle of the doorway to block his entrance.

  “I came here looking for the truth,” he said, conscious of sounding pretentious.

  She glanced around as if it might be hiding behind her. “Why don’t you come back later. Better yet, telephone sometime this afternoon.”

  “All you have to do, Miss Varney, is tell me about the Dixons, and why you didn’t let on about your relationship with them yesterday.”

  “I don’t remember you asking. But all right. I admit it. I’m Virginia’s cousin. But there’s no blood between the Varneys and Reuben Dixon. He married into this family against our wishes.”

  “Then what was he doing here yesterday?”

  She stared Traveler in the face, her eyes gradually narrowing. “He came to see my brother.”

  “You mean his cousin by marriage.”

  “If that’s what you’d prefer.”

  “I’d better talk to your brother.”

  Pearl Varney hugged herself, gooseflesh showing where the dress failed to cover her neck. “He’s not here.”

  “Where can I find him?”

  “The president of the church called a meeting this morning. I doubt if you’d be welcome there.”

  “I’ll tell you what. You give your brother a message for me. Tell him that I’ll be sending the money back to Willis Tanner.”

  Panic showed in her face. “What do you mean?”

  “I can’t do my job if you and your brother hold back critical information. To my mind, your family’s relationship with Reuben Dixon comes under that heading.”

  “My brother hired you to look after Penny’s interests, not Reuben’s.”

  “When I talked to Mr. Dixon, he sounded quite close to his niece.”

  “He’s not the kind of man I would allow anywhere near Penny.”

  “And Martha?”

  “Please,” the woman said, a smile doing battle with her perpetual frown. When the frown won she reached out to him, taking hold of his arm and attempting to pull him inside. He resisted. “Right now Penny is all that counts, Mr. Traveler. I apologize if we’ve misled you.”

  He allowed himself to be tugged across the threshold. She let go of him only to close the door. After that, she led the way into the kitchen, where she quickly turned up the gas flame under a teapot that was already filled with water.

  “Now,” she said, “just what is it you want to know?”

  “To start with, the details of Reuben Dixon’s visit here yesterday.”

  The pot whistled. She turned away to spoon Postum into a pair of mugs, immediately adding boiling water, artificial sweetener, and milk. Caffeine-free Mormon coffee.

  She handed him one of the cups before taking a tentative sip for herself.

  “That’s better.” She wrapped hands around the hot porcelain. “Mr. Traveler, what good would come of finding Martha Varney after all these years? It would only cause Penny more heartache to see what kind of woman her mother has become.”

  “And what kind is that?”

  “She’s committed adultery. She admitted so in her own letters.”

  “Let’s get back to Dixon.”

  With a quick shake of her head Pearl Varney pulled a heavily scented handkerchief from one sleeve and held it to her nose, taking several deep breaths. “I realize now that my brother should never have dealt with him. But when he married Virginia, what could we do?”

  He caught the heavy fragrance of roses and tried to mask it with the taste of Postum, but that was just as bad. “What was Dixon selling yesterday?”

  As if to give herself time to think, she sipped her drink, eyeing him coyly over the rim of her mug. Then she licked her lips, either policing up the Postum or trying to look provocative, he didn’t know which.

  “Are you married?” she asked, waving her handkerchief and scent in his direction.

  He breathed through his mouth. “Dixon claims he came here with information about a murder.
”

  She stiffened. “You mean that man in Bountiful?”

  “A pioneer killing, he told me, back more than a hundred years.”

  She sighed, looking relieved. “That again. Reuben won’t give up, I’ll say that for him.”

  “I need more explanation than that.”

  “I’m not privy to all my brother’s business dealings, Mr. Traveler.”

  He walked his Postum over to the sink. For a moment he thought about pouring it down the drain. Instead, he left it among dirty breakfast dishes. He couldn’t think of any more questions. Besides, Pearl Varney wasn’t answering them anyway.

  He was about to say good-bye when John Varney stepped into the kitchen. The smile he’d been wearing dissolved into something approaching anger. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “Why aren’t you looking out for my daughter?”

  “That’s easy. Reuben Dixon sent me here to talk to you about a murder confession he tried to sell.”

  “Are you working with him?”

  Traveler smiled. “You look guilty of something.”

  Varney clenched his jaw until his cheeks trembled with the effort. His hands fluttered as if trying to wave away unruly thoughts. “That’s confidential church business.”

  “Now, John,” his sister soothed, “don’t get excited. It won’t do your blood pressure any good.”

  Her comment set him off even more. “It’s your fault, dammit. The moment Virginia married that man we should have cut them both off. But, oh no, you wouldn’t hear of it. It was your idea to help them buy that apartment building of theirs.”

  He seemed to notice his restless hands and thrust them into his trouser pockets. “It’s even on the wrong side of the tracks.”

  Jesus, Traveler thought, he hadn’t heard that expression in years. But then, Mormon country was in its own special kind of time warp.

  “Ginny is our cousin. We had to do the Christian thing by her,” Pearl said, looking at Traveler as if speaking for his benefit. “The Varneys all come from the same small town in southern Utah, a place called Hurricane. Over the years we’ve stuck together. That’s the way it should be.”

  Traveler stared suspiciously at her. “What about Martha Varney? Where did she come from?”

  John Varney spoke up. “Nearby. Just over the border in Arizona.”

  Which, Traveler remembered, just happened to be near the headquarters of the Church of Zion Reborn.

  “Do you have any relatives in that area now? Anyone Martha might contact?”

  “Only those we buried there,” Pearl Varney answered.

  “Part of Hurricane just sort of dried up and blew away,” her brother added. “Of course, in the early days when Brigham Young first colonized that portion of the state it was different. Southern Utah, even part of Arizona, was to be the new Dixie, a land of cotton to help subsidize the church.” He sounded as though he would have preferred living back then. “But the climate was wrong. The crops didn’t pay.”

  “Did Martha ever show any interest in family history?”

  “No. Reuben’s the one who makes money out of things like that.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about your connection with him yesterday?”

  “He has nothing to do with my daughter.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Willis Tanner told me you were the best,” Varney said, but his head shook as if denying the idea.

  “Don’t believe everything Will tells you,” Traveler said. “I don’t.”

  13

  A BIGGER-THAN-LIFE Jake Ruland, credit dentist, stood out front of his downtown office on Main Street, just up from the old Walker Bank Building. Technically, the eight-foot poster was in violation of city ordinances designed to keep sidewalks free of obstacles. But the blowup was Dr. Jake’s trademark; it stood outside every one of his branch offices to indicate the place was open for business, no appointment necessary, dentures in a day.

  Traveler’s tongue probed his molars as he opened the door and stepped inside. Penny Varney’s filling-free smile was the first thing he saw. It made him want to press his lips together until Dr. Jake could clean away the tartar.

  “God loves a smile,” she spieled before recognizing him. Her eyes widened. “Mr. Traveler, have you found my mother already?”

  “Sorry. I have some leads. But I’d like to talk about them before I go any further.”

  He looked around the office. The waiting room was full. Most of the patients were older women.

  “Maybe you could take a coffee break?” he suggested.

  She rolled her eyes and whispered, “Doctor doesn’t believe in coffee. It’s not only a sin but stains the teeth.”

  “I could come back at lunchtime.”

  She pushed back from her uncluttered metal desk. Today she was dressed for winter, with a heavy blue sweater, a matching calf-length wool skirt, and white leather boots high enough to hide all signs of flesh.

  “I’ll get someone to sit in for me.” She disappeared through a door marked “private.”

  While waiting, his tongue found a tender spot of gum behind one of his incisors. He was still worrying it when Penny returned. Dr. Ruland himself accompanied her. His appearance brought all the patients to their feet, a mark of respect or apprehension, Traveler couldn’t tell which.

  The dentist ignored his constituency to home in on Traveler. They shook hands. The man’s grip would make yanking teeth child’s play.

  “Well?” Dr. Ruland said. When Traveler failed to respond the man added, “Everybody expects me to be as tall as my poster outside.”

  He was big enough, nearly Traveler’s height, and just as impressive as his cardboard advertisement: an athletic-looking man in his late forties; black hair, no gray; a black, carefully trimmed beard; and dark flashing eyes. He belonged in Wuthering Heights, not a dental office.

  “She’s my lucky Penny,” he said, smiling at his receptionist. His teeth, surrounded as they were by such an intensely black beard, seemed white enough to glow in the dark. “I wouldn’t want anyone taking her away from me.”

  As he spoke, Penny retrieved a mock-fur coat from a coat rack behind her desk.

  “I’d just like to borrow her for a few minutes,” Traveler said.

  Ruland snapped his teeth. Traveler found himself hoping they were capped.

  “And so you shall,” Ruland said, “even if I have to sit here at her desk myself.”

  Penny flushed. “It’s not that important, Dr. Jake.”

  “That’s right,” Traveler picked up. “I can come back later, Dr. Ruland.”

  “Call me Dr. Jake. Everybody does. I insist on it.”

  Just then another girl came through the door marked private. Without waiting to be told, she took a seat behind Penny’s desk.

  “There you go,” Dr. Jake said to Penny. “Take your time. You might as well make it a long lunch.”

  “But, Dr. Jake,” Penny began.

  “I insist.” He slipped a hand against the small of her back, caressing while at the same time easing her toward the door. At the threshold he paused to help her on with her coat. He took the opportunity to lean close and whisper something in her ear. The look on his face was not that of an employer, but of a lover. Her look matched his.

  God almighty, Traveler thought, what the hell did she see in a man more than twice her age? Power? Money? Her family already had those. She had to be another victim of Mormon country, where underground polygamy kept old farts supplied with young flesh.

  Without warning a small man appeared next to the dentist. Traveler had the feeling that he’d been hiding behind Ruland all the time.

  “Meet Brother Lehi,” Ruland said, “my first acolyte.”

  Lehi didn’t offer to shake hands but stood off to one side. Acolyte probably translated as bodyguard, though his size was hardly intimidating. Traveler remembered reading somewhere that men less than four feet eleven inches were considered abnormal. Below that were dwarfs and midgets. Lehi appea
red to be slightly taller.

  “He is a man possessed by God,” Ruland said. “You can see that in his eyes.”

  What Dr. Jake interpreted as fervor Traveler saw as something verging on madness.

  “People used to make fun of me,” Lehi said.

  Traveler, unsure of what response was expected, merely nodded. Penny’s expression was somewhere between embarrassment and fascination.

  “Leprechaun Lehi, they used to call me. Tom Thumb. Bug.” His eyes, his body language, defied Traveler, anyone, to make such a remark now.

  The dentist dropped a hand on his acolyte’s shoulder and smiled benevolently.

  “Men my size,” Lehi said, staring at Penny, “are good with women.” Dr. Jake chuckled and eased Penny out the door with a proprietary pat on the fanny.

  ******

  Lamb’s was the nearest restaurant. Since it was still snowing, that’s where they went. As soon as they were seated Traveler said, “You didn’t tell me about Dr. Jake.”

  “I gave you one of his cards.”

  “You know what I mean. That you’re involved with him.”

  Penny shrugged. “That doesn’t have anything to do with my mother.”

  “It affects your family, though.”

  Before he could press her further, a waitress arrived. Traveler ordered a prime rib sandwich the likes of which Lamb’s had been serving since his childhood, while Penny settled for hot chocolate and an English muffin. Chocolate was also on the Mormon hit list, since it contained caffeine.

  As soon as they were alone again he said, “Does your father know about Dr. Jake?”

  “My father is too busy with his church to know anything else.”

  “He might surprise you.”

  “Has he bought you off, is that it? Are you here to tell me that you won’t look for my mother?”

  “Your father is worried about you, Penny.”

  She shook her head. “He knows how to get in touch with me.”

  “All right. It’s none of my business. Now, if you want me to keep looking, Arizona seems to be the next logical place. In this kind of weather that means a full day each way, and maybe another there. Three days. With expenses that can run into a lot of money.”

  “Do you think you’ll find her?”