by R. R. Irvine
“Thank God you’re here,” Bill said. “We’ve been waiting for you to open the bottles.”
Charlie nodded vigorously.
“He says we couldn’t have lasted much longer,” Bill translated.
“Who’s paying for all this?” Martin asked, eyeing Chester.
“Don’t look at me. Bill says the booze is a gift from the prophet.”
Bill grinned. “Actually, it came addressed to Moroni Traveler and Son from Willis Tanner. But you know him. He never makes a move without consulting the prophet first.”
“A toast,” Barney said, applying a corkscrew to one of the wine bottles. “To Newel Ellsworth.”
Charlie spread out plastic cups on the countertop. Before anyone could drink, “Onward Christian Soldiers” assaulted them from the elevator.
“Nephi Bates got himself a boom-box,” Chester shouted. “He says the Tabernacle Choir will ward off demons.”
Traveler raised his cup and drank. The others did the same.
“I’m expecting someone,” he said during a lull in the music. “A woman. Send her up when she gets here.”
“You already have someone waiting for you upstairs,” Bill said.
“Who?”
The sandwich prophet waved at the array of bottles on the cigar counter. “Who else? Willis Tanner.”
A smiling Tanner, his face tic-free, was sitting at Traveler’s desk.
“Take a load off, you two.” Tanner pointed to the client’s chairs, one in front of each desk.
The thought crossed Traveler’s mind that he ought to remove Tanner bodily. Instead, he sat.
“Jesus,” Martin muttered and stepped behind his desk.
“The prophet was well enough to leave the hospital,” Tanner announced. “Not an hour ago, he was presiding personally over an apostles’ court across the street.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to indicate the temple.
“Well?” Martin said.
“The rumor was true. That’s official now. The devil did rise to walk the land. He took on the appearance of Elihu Moseby. He became Moseby. Now Lucifer has been cast back into the pit.”
“Excommunication?” Martin asked.
Tanner nodded. “From this moment on, the demon must be shunned. Those who ignore the prohibition forfeit their salvation.”
Tanner’s satisfied grin reminded Traveler that such a decree was totally binding on the faithful. Even the closest members of Moseby’s family would be lost to him forever.
“There are those who favored the old ways,” Tanner said. “But the spilling of blood frees a sinner. Satan’s chosen one doesn’t get off that easily.”
“I almost feel sorry for Moseby,” Martin said.
Tanner shook his head. “From now on, there can be no further mention of his name.”
“What about Seth Woolley and his wife?” Traveler asked.
“Theirs is to be a late-life mission. Two years in the Asian wilderness seeking forgiveness. It’s your doing. ‘We owe it all to our two Moronis.’ So said the prophet himself. ‘I honor them as God’s instruments. We Saints are in their debt.’ ”
“I wish he’d put that in writing,” Martin said.
“The prophet has only one regret—his niece, Lael. Her chance is gone. The prophet is in no position now to receive a revelation on women’s rights.”
“Are you telling us he was about to give women the priesthood before this happened?” Traveler said.
“With the news of the kidnapping out, any such revelation would be tainted.” Tanner stood up to leave. “There’s one more thing. The prophet would like his carte blanche back.”
Traveler rose to his feet. “Friends should be honest with one another, shouldn’t they?”
Tanner nodded.
“They should protect one another.”
Another nod.
“Bill and Charlie are friends too,” Traveler said. “Yet you had them arrested.”
“I had no choice.”
“I didn’t either.”
“Oh, God, Moroni, you didn’t give it to them.”
“They’re downstairs waiting. They promised not to hold you up for too much.”
39
MARTIN CLOSED the office door on Tanner’s fleeing figure. “One of these days I’m going to look up that boy’s ancestry. What with all that hanky-panky going on in pioneer times, I’d hate to think he was related to us. Speaking of which, I’ve decided to leave our family tree alone. There’s no telling what we might find if we start shaking the branches hard enough.”
“I thought Jolene was writing up our family history.”
Martin smiled sheepishly and returned to his desk. “I’ve discovered we’re not compatible.”
“Since when?”
“Since she started talking about a temple marriage to seal us together forever.”
“Stop ducking the issue.”
“Your memory goes when you get to be my age.”
The door opened before Traveler had a chance to reply. Stacie Breen was five minutes late for the appointment she’d made on the phone last night.
The last time Traveler had seen her, she’d been wet and disheveled. Now she was wearing a tailored gray suit with matching high heels and purse. Her hair looked and smelled as if she’d just come from the beauty parlor.
Martin stood up while Traveler held the client’s chair for her.
“Gentlemen,” she said, “seeing you like this almost makes me sorry I sold my interest in Moroni Traveler and Son.”
Traveler looked at Martin, who shook his head and sighed.
“I warned you I was going to hold an auction,” she said, “for information received.”
“How much did you get?” Traveler asked.
She stood up and slowly turned around to show off her clothes. “Enough for two weeks on the coast in style.”
“I don’t suppose you’d tell us where the boy is anyway,” Martin said.
“My lips are sealed.”
“Tell us the name of the buyer at least.”
“That’s why I’m here.”
She stepped around the desk to the window, beckoning them to follow.
“Look down there,” she said.
Traveler saw Mad Bill first. He was standing on the sidewalk in his sandwich board peering at the top floor of the Chester Building. His message, in letters large enough to read three stories up, was MORONI LIVES.
“So what?” Martin said.
“It’s her,” Traveler said, “Lael Woolley. She’s standing next to Bill.”
She, like Bill, was staring up at them.
Stacie waved.
Lael and Bill waved back.
“She owns you now,” Stacie said, “Just like Claire.”
As soon as Stacie left the office, Martin clapped his son on the back. “I can tell from here that girl’s a true missionary at heart.”
Martin raised the window and leaned out. Lael waved harder than ever.
“You’re a lucky man,” Martin said. “Not every woman knows a soul in need of saving when she sees one.”
THE END
