Someone was standing over me as I lay on my back on the floor. It was hazy. Dark even. My nose was burning, and it felt like I'd been punched in the head.
"You opened the closet, didn't you?" Betty's voice floated above me.
I looked around. I was on my back on her sparkly carpet. "What happened?" I propped myself up on my elbows.
Betty went over to the open door. "Chloroform deployer. Got the idea from the movie Mystery Men."
"Why does my stomach hurt?" I got to a sitting position.
Betty pushed a button, and from the deep recesses of her closet came a swinging beam that was about one foot in diameter and three feet long. She stopped it with her hands after it swung back and shoved it back inside.
"You booby-trapped your closet," I said without the slightest hint of surprise.
"Yeah. I wanted the beam to hit adults in the head, but I'm not tall enough to install it."
"Makes sense," I said as I got to my feet. "What did you make for snacks?"
She didn't ask if I was mad. And why should she? She had warned me.
In the kitchen, the table was loaded with everything from cupcakes to pizza rolls. This girl knew how to eat! We sat down and dug in.
"Most people wouldn't want to spend the night alone with a murderer," Betty said as she passed me a bowl of potato chips. "But I think it's okay if it's your Girl Scout leader."
"I didn't kill anyone," I said through a mouthful of cookies. It came out like Mfffninntkllneeone.
"And now," Betty continued as if I hadn't said anything. "You kidnapped some pastor guy because he was a witness."
I shook my head vigorously because the chocolate-stuffed marshmallows had sealed my lips shut.
"It's okay. I know you didn't do it."
I swallowed. "Good. Because I didn't."
She tapped a spoon from the ice cream against her chin, leaving a chocolate smear. "So where is this dude they say you kidnapped?"
I washed the marshmallow down with Mountain Dew. "I have no idea."
"I have a theory. Wanna hear it?"
Why not? It couldn't be worse than anything I had…or didn't have.
Betty poured maple syrup on the pizza rolls. "I think Tyson was a spy for Spain against the Catalonians…"
And there it was. Betty was obsessed with the Catalonians.
She stirred the gooey mess with a fork. "And I think Hilly did it."
That explanation was shorter than I'd thought it would be. "Why do you think Hilly did it? She's not even here." I looked around. "Is she?"
Hilly Vinton, a tall, Amazonian assassin—who isn't an assassin because the CIA does not condone assassination—was a friend of mine. And while she sometimes turned up unexpectedly, I didn't think she was back in town.
"No, she's in Malta." Betty stuffed a Rice Krispies bar into her mouth. "We keep in touch," she said.
"If you knew that, why do you think it was her?"
Betty rolled her eyes. "Because I don't want to think it's you."
I tried to wrap my head around that. "But you just said you didn't think I did it."
"I don't. But just in case you did, I'd rather it was Hilly."
Kid logic was a puzzle I'd never crack.
The girl studied me for a moment. "Okay. I'll help you. Again."
"Thanks" was all I could think to say.
The doorbell rang, and she shot me a look. "You weren't followed, were you?"
"I don't think you should open the door." I got up from the chair, stuffing donuts into my pockets.
"Get to the bedroom, and this time don't open the closet!" She waited until I was down the hall before going to answer the door.
"What?" I protested. "That's a bad idea! You don't know who it is!"
Betty thought about this as the doorbell rang again. "It's alright. If it's a bad guy, I'll tell him you're in my closet."
That made sense…in a way. I didn't go to the bedroom but stayed just around the corner from the living room. If this was trouble, I needed to be ready in case Betty didn't have the living room booby-trapped too.
I heard some mumbling that I couldn't make out before the door closed and Betty hollered that it was safe to come out.
"Who was it?" I asked once I joined her in the living room.
"Some cop. He said he'd be back." She looked at the door. "I told him you weren't here but that you totally didn't do it."
"Thanks," I said. "I'll drop you off at Lauren's. You can't stay here if that cop is coming back."
Betty grumbled a little, but let me shuffle her out back to my van. She didn't say a word when I dropped her off at Lauren's. Lauren's mom didn't seem to think Betty dropping by in her pajamas at night was a weird thing.
I was pretty sure Betty was mad at me. It wasn't fair to involve Betty in this, no matter how much she wanted to be. Also, being there made me feel a little like I was contributing to her delinquency.
"Welcome, Bird Goddess!" Kayla held open the door of what, until recently, had been a Lutheran church. "Welcome." She gave a deep bow with an exaggerated flourish. "To the Chapel of Despair!"
The girl pulled a flashlight from her voluminous black robe (a definite improvement over the whatever-ratty-bathrobe-you-have garb they used to wear). Kayla held the flashlight under her chin, aimed up, in an attempt to appear menacing. Instead, the weak glow made her look slightly anemic.
"Can I come in?" I looked around. I was pretty sure this would be the last spot anyone but Rex would think of, but the longer I stood out here, the more those odds would shrink.
"Enter." Kayla stepped aside, indicating a lobby with a red glow. "At your own risk!" she warned. There was a cracking sound as she threw Pop-Its on the floor.
"Very nice," I mumbled as I walked inside, closing the door behind me.
"The demigod Odious will listen to your request. He is fair and righteous." Kayla rolled her eyes and shook her head, pulling back her hood. "I can't stand these lines he has us saying. You wouldn't believe the things he comes up with! Heather and I had to reject one phrase where we were supposed to praise his abundant and evil manhood!"
"Sounds like you have grounds for a sexual harassment claim." I immediately regretted saying that. The last thing I needed to do was cause a rift between the four druids.
"Really?" Kayla's eyes opened wide at the possibilities.
I changed the subject. "Hey, do you know Kurt Hobbs?"
That caught her attention. "That guy from Bladdersly? The paper boy who thinks he's a bounty hunter?"
I nodded. "That's the one. He really likes you. He's trying to capture me to prove it."
Kayla beamed. "He is? He'd do that for me? I had no idea! I just thought he was a greaser from Bladdersly."
"Well, he is, but he's ambitious." For reasons I've never understood, Whovians refer to Bladders as greasers. We always thought this was unique until we found out that they called us the same thing.
"Should I tell him where you are?" Kayla asked a little too eagerly.
"Absolutely not. The last thing I need is him here swooning all over you while trying to handcuff me."
Kayla gasped. "Swooning? How romantic! I had no idea he was interested. He's older, right?"
"Well, yeah. I think he's like twenty or something." I hadn't thought about an age difference. "Are you still in high school?"
"An older man! And a businessman too!" She clapped her hands together before looking at me earnestly. "Do you think he'd join the cult? Stewie says we get a bonus of twenty-five dollars for every new member we bring in."
"That seems a little low considering how desperate you are," I said. "And who's paying you? Stewie? Out of his own pocket?"
Kayla shook her head. "Oh, it's not about the money. We each want to be the first one to do it. Can you believe that, even after getting all that money, a church, and a car, we still can't get anyone to join?"
I could. "Well, maybe you could have a sign-up table at school."
"The principal said no. He thinks we're Satanists." She snorted. "As if! Those kids are total losers!"
"Yeah." I looked around. "Is there a place I can crash for the night?"
"Oh sure." The girl seemed delighted with the idea. I'd have to make sure she didn't call Kurt and turn me in. "We have the relaxation room."
I followed her down a flight of stairs to a hallway. We passed an old nursery, a kitchen, some meeting rooms, and a large hall before she opened a door and waved me through.
"What is this place?" I asked, trying to take it all in.
The room was painted dark red, with Roman braziers blazing. It seemed dangerous until I noticed the flames were silks being blown by tiny fans. Barry White was singing through a state-of-the-art sound system, and in the middle of the room was a round waterbed.
Kayla motioned to the bed. "Stewie says he'll need it to indoctrinate new female members."
"Oh no. He's not doing that." I needed to talk to that kid. There would be no sexual harassment on my watch.
"Well, he thinks so. Heather and I decided we aren't going to stand for that when the time comes. Maybe we'll combine it with that sexual harassment suit you suggested." Kayla thought for a moment. "Do you think Kurt could swoop in and put Stewie in jail for that?"
I sighed. "Is he here?"
She nodded before continuing. "Mostly we use it for naps. Waterbeds are weird. Why did people use those in the Dark Ages?"
"Forty years ago wasn't the Dark Ages." I dumped my bag on the waterbed and watched it wobble on the bed of waves. "Let's go see Odious." I pushed her out the door.
The chapel was filled with black candles, all lit. Swathes of red fabric hung from the ceiling, and the pews had all been painted black. On the altar was a huge throne with a back about six feet in height, almost two feet taller than the diminutive Stewie needed. And there he sat. The demigod.
Stewie didn't see us come in at first. He was busy eating a corndog and watching something on his cell phone.
"Odious!" Kayla shouted tremulously. "The Bird Goddess has requested an interview with the great and impotent King of Evil!" She tossed a few more Pop-Its onto the ground. They sputtered pathetically.
I decided not to point out that she said impotent when she probably meant omnipotent.
Stewie jumped to his feet, which didn't change his height at all. He tossed the corndog onto the throne and held his hands high in the air, wiggling his fingers in what I referred to as druid jazz fingers.
"It's King of All Evil, Kayla!" he complained. "And it's important, not impotent!"
"Yeah, you're lucky that I don't call you the Butthead of All Evil," Kayla snapped.
"Come forth, Bird Goddess!" Stewie beckoned. "And speak!"
I walked up to him.
"Kneel before Zod!" He pointed to the floor.
"The guy from Superman?" I shook my head. "Not happening. Look, as a member of this cult, I demand, um, refuge."
I wiggled my druid jazz fingers for effect.
He frowned. "Why are you doing that?"
"What?"
He nodded at my hands. "Wiggling your fingers like that."
Was he joking? "That's what you do!"
Stewie's face turned as red as his hair. "I don't do anything stupid like that! Dread demigods don't wiggle their fingers!"
"I don't care," I said. "I need to crash in your pervert room. And by the way, you can't 'indoctrinate' female members. The braziers are a nice touch though."
Stewie sniffed. "I'm the leader of the Cult of NicoDerm. You are only a goddess. You must do what I say."
"Doesn't goddess outrank leader?" Kayla offered. "I vote for the Bird Goddess to be the Supreme Leader."
"Thanks," I said. "But I don't want that. I've got this murder investigation to deal with and my Girl Scouts are tweens, so…"
"Mutiny!" Stewie shrieked.
"It's not a mutiny," I said. "I'll take my stuff downstairs and move into the sexual assault room. And you and I are going to have a little talk about how women should be treated."
Stewie picked up a plastic wand and shook it at me. "I will turn you into a bat!"
"Fine," I sighed. "Whatever." I walked back up the aisle and down the stairs to the relaxation room and locked the door behind me.
No one bothered me, which was good. I had a lot to think about. With Pastor Buddy Malone missing and the Bladdersly PD hot on my tail, I needed to think. I took out my cell phone and searched the web for news of the pastor's disappearance. Oh sure, you probably thought I'd use a burner phone. But I'm not on the lam, and using my own phone seemed to back that up.
Nothing. Even The Bladdersly Beard had nothing.
I really should call Rex. But then he'd get upset, and I didn't like upsetting my husband. So I guess I was not calling him for his own benefit.
I needed a computer. It was too hard scrolling through my phone. Not that I was old or anything. It was just easier to stare at a monitor. There had to be an office in here somewhere, right? Someplace where Stewie wrote his humiliating scripts and ordered Pop-Its in bulk.
There wasn't anything in the basement, so I went upstairs, bypassing the nave. A short hallway on the side proved fruitful, and I found an office with a desk and laptop.
"We have Wi-Fi." Kayla appeared in the doorway. "That should be a major draw to new members."
I turned on the laptop. "What's the password?"
The first thing that came up was a video with flames accompanied by the audio of what suspiciously sounded like four teen druids screaming in agony. Stewie's head popped up with the flashlight under the chin trick, and he laughed maniacally—something made comical by his high-pitched, nasal voice.
"Kayla," I repeated. "Password."
"I am a great and powerful leader."
"What?"
She pointed at the monitor. "Write it all together. That's the password."
I typed it in. "Is Stewie losing it?"
"Nah," Kayla said. "He's just a bit full of himself now that we are all rich."
"I guess all that money can change a person," I said as I opened up the browser and typed in a social media page. I could check and see if there was anything there about the missing pastor. Our police department had a Facebook page, so maybe the Bladdersly PD did too.
I was greeted by a login request. I didn't know my login information. It was in a green Girl Scout notebook I kept on my nightstand.
"You can use mine." Kayla reached over me and logged in. "You old people never remember these things."
I couldn't argue with that because it was true. Once in, I pulled up Rex's page. He never used it. Mostly he had it because his sisters liked to use Messenger.
This is Merry, not Kayla the Terrifying, I typed. Just wanted to let you know what's going on. I'm crashing with the druids tonight. Should be safe—it's not like people are beating down the doors to get in here.
"Hey!" Kayla complained.
I finished up with the message and checked to see if Vanderzee had ever made a page.
Merry Wrath! Bladdersly's Most Wanted! Armed and Dangerous!
I was sorry I looked. There was my photo on a wanted poster. I thought this was a bit over-the-top, especially the skull border around it. There was an appeal to call a hotline to report a sighting of me, but they'd forgotten to add the number.
"That's you!" Kayla gasped.
"Yup." I kept scrolling. "Bird Goddess/Murderer."
There wasn't any information on Malone. Maybe they didn't update very often.
"Thanks," I told Kayla. "I appreciate that. And by the way, can you tell Stewie and the others that no one is to know I'm here?"
Kayla nodded. "I'll tell them you're on the run from killing that guy."
"I didn't kill Tyson Pancratz." I sighed wearily. Seriously? My own cult thought I was a murderer?
She looked disappointed. "Oh. That's too bad. It would've been cool to have a Killer Bird Goddess of Death. When we saw the Bladdersly paper, Stewie thought so too and started talking about ordering brochures that say that."
I got to my feet. "Make sure he doesn't send them out, and I'll see what I can do about getting Kurt here as your recruit."
She brightened. "Great! Well, Stewie and I have to go. We have a consumer ed final tomorrow. You'll lock up and blow out the candles?"
I agreed, and once the two were out the door, I went to the nave and blew out the black candles. All 167 of them.
Killer Bird Goddess. Yeesh.