Chapter Eleven

Meanwhile, Max drove the loaner Ford to Walt’s garage, picked up the repaired Olds and headed inland to the Kingdom Come compound, whistling as he drove. Today he was feeling his oats, an odd euphoria that would follow one of his panic attacks.

As he arrived at Hicks’s property, Max noted that Kingdom Come consisted of merely an acre or so sparsely wooded with live oaks. Kingdom would be a long time coming here.

He found a locked gate at the top of the drive and a burly, bearded specimen on a chair on the other side. The guard stared at Max, making no move to open or even ask him his business. Finally, Max got out of the car and approached.

“This meant to keep people in or out?”

Cro-Magnon man’s face settled into a scowl. “Got an appointment?” he asked.

“Well, I was hoping I could talk with Lawrence Hicks.”

“Father Hicks is a busy man,” the guard grunted.

“He’s going to be even busier if he has to come down to the police station to answer some questions. Just take this as a courtesy call.”

The lumpish man pushed himself up and approached. Downwind, Max now added ‘pungent’ to his descriptors for the guy.

“You don’t look like any cop.”

“Someone along the line must have told you not to judge a book by its cover. If not, let it be me. I’m working in an unofficial capacity with Sheriff McCall.”

“What you want to talk to him about?”

“Are you by any chance Mr. Hicks’s lawyer?” He could not bring himself to call the man Father Hicks.

The guard laughed. “The hell you say.”

“Short of you being Mr. Hicks’s lawyer, I cannot share privileged information. I’m sure you understand.”

The guy looked like the only thing he understood was a square meal.

“Sooner you let me in, the sooner I can ask my questions and be on my way and you can go back to your meditations.”

“Got a fast tongue, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure whether or not to take that as a compliment.”

“Alright, alright.” He pulled out a key, unlocked the padlock, and jerked the sagging cyclone fence back to let Max through.

“Just tell Father Hicks I questioned you good.”

Max felt a surge of triumph. “I will do that. And where might I find Mr. Hicks?”

The guard pointed down the dirt lane to an old farm house surrounded by a dozen sheds.

“He’s in the main house.”

“Ah, so those other structures are living quarters, then?”

“Damn right. Men’s on the left, women’s on the right. Father Hicks says we have to keep the sexes separate to live a righteous life.”

“I’d say that would limit the growth potential of your community.” But the guard wasn’t listening, so Max climbed back into the Olds and drove slowly down the dirt road.

He soon saw why Hicks might want more land. Propagation or no, he had quite a following. In back of the huts he saw large garden areas with at least twenty people at work, weeding, planting, or harvesting. And in the apple orchard beyond more were pruning; still others were at work on the main house, cleaning windows and sweeping the front porch. So altogether there had to be more than thirty people on this parcel.

He parked by the farm house and climbed freshly cleaned steps. A young woman was putting the final touches on the window of the front door. Attractive in an unkempt way, she looked startled when Max told her he had come to talk with Mr. Hicks.

“Father Hicks is busy praying now, I’m sure. He spends his mornings talking with God.”

Max couldn’t restrain a smile. “He speaks with God?”

“He is the chosen one, haven’t you heard? Do you want to join? Is that why you’re here?”

Max then noticed a long-haired man in a flowing white caftan coming to the door, looking like a pissed-off Popeye who’d lost his pipe.

“What is going on, Betsy?” he said.

“Father Hicks, he just—”

Then Hicks eye-balled Max. “And who are you? I told Bruno not to let strangers in.”

Max replied: “Your guard—Bruno—told me to tell you that he questioned me good. Mr. Hicks, I assume?”

“Father Hicks, yes. And again, who are you?”

“Max Byrns. I’m a private detective working the Tadeo Suzuki case in tandem with the sheriff’s department. I assume you’re familiar with the case.”

“The old Jap who fell off a cliff the other night. What’s it to you?”

Max smiled at wide-eyed Betsy. Then to Hicks: “Perhaps we can talk somewhere in private. I have just a few questions...”

“We can speak here. I’ve got nothing to hide.”

“…about your whereabouts the night of Suzuki’s death.”

At this, Hicks, now agitated, grabbed Max by the arm and hustled him inside. “Come on back to my study.”

The “study” was a converted bedroom with an old roll-top desk and signs on the walls declaring this to be the “House of Hicks” and the center of Kingdom Come.

They sat, Max just managing to keep his eyes from rolling. “Where did you attend divinity school?”

“The world is my university, Mr. Byrns.”

“Tuition-free.”

Hicks smiled with his lips; his eyes were dead. He reminded Max of a child molester he’d put away a dozen years before: the same cold, deadness in the eyes.

“That is one way to look at it. But I am doing God’s work, whether you believe in it or not. Preserving America for the White race. Much as Mr. Hitler is doing far across the oceans.”

Max shook his head. “I beg your pardon? You realize we are at war with Nazi Germany.”

Another false smile. “It’s still a free country, I assume. A man can express his feelings.”

A shiver passed through him. Hicks, Max realized, was not sane.

“Is it my work you’ve come to question me about? I thought you were establishing the bona fides of any alibi I might have for the night of February 23.”

Or crazy like a fox.

Max was about to reply when Hicks added: “Are you simply asking folks at random for such an alibi or is there a reason you come to me?”

“Cui bono. That is a principle of crime detection.”

“Who benefits.”

“Very good, Mr. Hicks. And I understand you are interested in purchasing the Suzuki farmland.”

Max watched Hicks put a small hand up in protest. “You cannot blame me for that,” he said. “God advised me. I am merely following His orders. Those acres will help to bring the dawn of a new world. Kingdom Come right here in California.”

Then Hicks crossed his legs and his caftan opened, revealing pants and shirt underneath with a gun stuck in his belt. A Luger, Max registered, and a cold spike gripped him.

Hicks looked from the gun to Max. “Coyotes need controlling.” He closed the caftan, message delivered.

“Yes,” Max said, breathing deeply. “So you are interested in the Suzuki land?”

Hicks raised both hands high now, as if in supplication. “As I say, it is His wish.” Hicks glanced upward.

“And you would benefit by the death of Mr. Suzuki, who, I understand, refused your offer.” But Max could feel the balance somehow tipping. He was no longer in charge.

“A stubborn man. Not a godly individual, I fear. But I am sure you can see what good we are doing here, Mr. Byrns. How we have changed this wasteland into a modern Garden of Eden.” A pause, then, “You seem a troubled man, Mr. Byrns. Someone in need of inner peace. You could be part of this new kingdom.” He now held Max in a piercing gaze, the eyes no longer glazed, but sparkling.

Max threw out all his earlier assumptions. Crazy maybe, but with a mesmerizing power. Suddenly he wanted to get this over with.

“So, with Tadeo Suzuki dead, you could negotiate directly with his oldest son, James, who may be more amenable to such a sale. Have you in fact contacted James?”

“That would hardly be Christian of me, with his father just passing.” More of his eyes twitching back and forth like a metronome.

Max, avoiding the eyes, looked down as he spoke. “You haven’t talked with James Suzuki?”

“Well, a solacing phone call, perhaps.”

Max took a deep breath, looking around the grubby room with its old furniture and wondering how the hell a grifter like Hicks could come up with the money to try and buy Tadeo’s land. Con the believers into giving up their savings? Maybe. Or if he was such a fan of Hitler, maybe the Germans had been propping him up. An angle to look into for sure.

And thinking about this, Max managed to get his shit together, now looking Hicks straight in the eyes. “So where were you on the night of February 23?”

Hicks did not blink. “Here, truth be told. Well, not here in this room, but down the hall in my bedroom.”

“An early night? You have anyone who can corroborate that?”

“Well, yes. But this is rather delicate, Mr. Byrns. I would rather not say. I am an honest man. You can take my word for it, just as I have that you are indeed a private investigator working with the police.”

Max now could not to let this conman bluff him. “Sheriff McCall is attempting to cross suspects off his list. So, in what way delicate, Mr. Hicks?”

He sighed. “I am a man of God, Mr. Byrns, but I also have strong appetites. If you know what I mean?”

Max squinted at him. “You mean that while your followers practice a celibate lifestyle, you engage in sex.”

Hicks shrugged. “From time to time as the need arises.”

Max nodded, relaxing now. He felt his balance returning. No Svengali but a miserable shit preying on the helpless. “And your sex partner can vouch for your presence until midnight?”

“Partners.” He winked at Max.

Max drew out his notebook and pencil. “Names?”

“Betsy. You met her at the door. Betsy Dooley. And Theresa.”

“Last name?”

“Dooley.”

“Sisters,” Max said, checking his disgust.

Hicks shook his head. “No, no. Mother and daughter, actually.” Then Hicks smiled.

He’s enjoying this, Max thought.

“You will be discreet when questioning them, I hope.”

Times like this Max resented the self-control he’d learned as a cop. The man deserved a good beating.

He then got himself out of Hicks’s presence before he committed an ungodly act.

Max found Betsy still at work cleaning the steps and porch. Unsure how to begin, he simply said, “Mr. Hicks told me you might know his whereabouts on the night of the twenty-third.”

She acted as if she did not hear him.

Fair enough, he thought. Sensible reaction, in fact.

“That would be last Monday,” he said. “A week ago.”

“I know when the twenty-third was.” Defensive now, her face reddening, he noted.

“All I need to know is—”

“Yes,” she said, all but spitting out the word. “Yes, I know where Father Hicks was that night.”

“Until midnight?”

She looked at him with a sudden fierceness, the flatness of her Okie face transformed into a feral snarl. “All night.”

Out the corner of his eye, he saw Hicks leave the house by a side door.

“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” he said. “It’s important.”

“It’s always important, mister. Me and my mom were living in our car for thirteen months before we found this camp. It seemed like heaven when we first arrived. But then you find, everything’s got its price. So he wants a bit of knockin’ in the night. It’s better than being back in the car.”

“You’d pretty much do or say anything Hicks wanted then, right?”

She snorted. “Hell yes. You think I’m a fool? But I don’t have to lie about this. He was with me… with us all night.”

She glared at him with hatred.

Max felt rotten, his heart sinking, but then told himself it should be Hicks feeling that way.

“So, you satisfied? Got all the dirty information you need? Me, I got work to do.”

She turned her back on him.

He walked down the steps slowly. He believed her and felt like a heel. He could ask the mother, but no sense in causing more pain. He read people well and Betsy had spoken with the fierceness of truth.

The ebullient mood he’d had on arrival here had evaporated. He just wanted to leave. He got into his car, rolled down his window, and drove back toward the gate, again closed. Stopping, he saw it was padlocked. He looked around for the hulking guard.

Then the cold hardness of a gun barrel pressing into the back of his head, the snick of the trigger being cocked. He felt his heart stutter.

“You don’t want to do this,” Max said, careful to keep his hands on the steering wheel.

“Oh yeah, I do, you son of a bitch. Hicks just gave me my walking papers for letting you in. Now where am I gonna go?”

So that’s where Hicks had been headed. But like yesterday when his breaks went out, his rational mind shut down, replaced by the cold fear he’d been experiencing since getting shot. He could say nothing, feeling only his hands trembling as he gripped the steering wheel, sweat breaking out on his forehead.

“What’s the matter, smart guy? Suddenly you’re not running off at the mouth.”

Max felt paralyzed.

“Not so cocky now, are you,” the guard said. “Shitting your pants, more like it.”

The barrel now bored harder into his scalp and Max was going to lose control of his bladder. He detested himself for this fear.

“Just a nice little three count here,” he said. “And it’s all over. One, two…”

Max tried to move but could not.

“Three.” The trigger clicked with a loud slap of metal against metal.

Bruno then was laughing hysterically. “Boy, you should see your face. Like you just met your maker. Now get the hell out of here and don’t come back.”

He opened the gate and motioned for Max through.

As he put the car in gear, Max was still trembling.

“Father Hicks didn’t fire me, you sap,” Bruno yelled as Max passed by. “He doesn’t want to see your sorry face again, and I’ll be here if you come back. Next time my gun’ll be loaded.”

Max’s body was shaking, and it was all he could do to put the car in second gear.

And then the vision again was there, the endless loop of the shooting that played in his dreams in grainy black-and-white.

Max now trembling as he drove the narrow rural route away from Kingdom Come. But the image persisted. He struggled to maneuver the Olds down the road that grew narrower, leading to blackness.