The God Who Died (2/2)

After sweating in the kitchen for three hours, it was my job to wait at the dinner table. The dining hall had been dressed specially for the occasion, with balloons, flowers and white-gold pennants. The table was dressed with a shining white tablecloth and decorated with flowers and crystal candlesticks.

Brian sat at the head of the table, resplendent in a white satin salwar kameez embellished with gold embroidery. Fabio sat next to Brian, as his personal attendant. I waited on Carol, Wendy and Fabio. As appropriate to their rank as elites, they wore pale pastel satin gowns—pink for the women, blue for Fabio. The three of them had made a special flower arrangement for Brian’s place setting—white and yellow roses in a crystal vase, colors symbolic of Clarity.

After the shock of being relegated to the ‘servant class’, I noticed (with no little resentment) that these chosen ones were in an ebullient mood, smiling, laughing, sharing a warm feeling of fellowship with one another.

An invisible menial, I poured champagne. I’ve worked as a waiter before, so it was second nature to me, but even so I was having a kind of out-of-body experience. Was I imagining this? Just one day ago I had been a member of this cosy little gang and now it was as if I didn’t exist.

Fabio proposed a toast to Brian, and everyone drank deeply. I watched them sip it and become as bubbly and heady as the liquid. At the end of speech the ladies clapped and smiled, then each of them proposed their own toast to Brian. Each speech was more fulsome than the last.

Brian then made a speech that was fluffy, full of abstract jargon but delivered with gravitas, and that benevolent smile that we all worked so hard to earn.

When Brian sat down, I started serving the stuffed-mushroom appetizers. I didn’t see what happened but I heard the clatter of a glass on crockery and turned around to see that a glass of wine had spilled onto Brian’s plate, and some had splashed onto his clothes.

For a moment, we all held our collective breath.

Brian looked outraged. He turned his furious pop eyes to Fabio, who was visibly trembling.

“Look what you’ve done, you idiot! What’s the hell’s the matter with you?”

“Sorry Abu, I’m so sorry,” Fabio hastened to mop things up with a napkin.

“Clumsy idiot!”

I was terrified. I’d never seen him like this before. His usual manner was exceptionally serene, benevolent, with the expression that was a combination of the infant Buddha and Santa Claus. Other people had mentioned, always in hushed terms, his rages but I’d always put that down to spite and their spiritual impurity. Spittle was collecting in the corners of his mouth and his face had turned a dark purple. A vein was throbbing in his temple.

“It’s amazing I keep you around. Just like your mother—completely useless piece of garbage. I said I’d do the best I could but what can you do? After all I’ve done, you mess up the most basic jobs. It’s like trying to gild a turd.”

He went on in this vein for a long time. All color had drained from Fabio’s face and his knuckles were white as he gripped the back of his chair. Carol looked horrified, staring at her plate in embarrassment. Only Wendy seemed unaffected. In fact, there was a tiny smile at the corner of her lips that gave me the creeps.

I took the spoiled plate and retreated into the kitchen where Soledad and Rick were busy cleaning.

“What’s up?” Soledad asked, noticing my expression.

I grimaced. “Fabio screwed up and Abu is going apeshit. He said something about Fabio being like his mother. Do you know the backstory there?”

“No, but I always figured Fabio was Brian’s son,” said Soledad.

“You did?” I asked.

“Sure,” she shrugged. “They have the same color eyes.”

“They do?” I said again. It never occurs to me to notice the color of people’s eyes. It always seems like a literary device. It got me thinking.

I returned with a fresh plate for Brian and gave it to Fabio. Brian shoved it away saying he was no longer hungry. Instead, he proceeded to sip wine and glowered at the women while they picked at their food. I suddenly felt grateful that I’d been assigned to the servant group—staying away from the dinner group seemed much the better deal right now.

Wendy spoke up.

“I’ve prepared my speech, Abu. Would you like me to read it after the dessert, as usual? Or, if you have no appetite, perhaps we could skip dessert?”

Brian thought about this, staring intently at the vase of flowers in front of him.

“When I was praying earlier,” he said, “I received the message that Sister Carol should read the speech.”

“But Abu,” said Wendy, “It’s been my particular act of devotion for ten years! It wouldn’t have the same potency if she read it.”

“Abu, I’m not prepared,” said Carol, equally discomfited.

“The Universe has conveyed the message,” he said sternly. “Who are we to question it?” He stared at both women, challenging them to argue. Carol folded immediately. Wendy was not so easily quieted.

“Abu…” her voice had the touch of a whine in it, though she was consciously fighting to keep calm. “I’ve been working on it for a month. It is a tribute from my heart to your Good Works. I would like to personally do you the honor.”

“Silence!” he boomed, thumping the table.

After a few listless slurps of his soup, he looked at Wendy again, smiled slightly, and started in on her.

“You are not getting any younger Sister Wendy,” he said. “Have you considered marrying?”

Wendy blushed instantly and vividly.

“Abu knows that I have devoted my life to the Sanctuary.”

“The Sanctuary does not preclude relationships between spiritual men and women,” he said mildly.

“No,” she said doubtfully. “But it is my dearest wish to devote myself completely to the Sanctuary.”

“A well-rounded female adherent is guided by a male adherent. That is the wish of the Universe.”

Wendy bowed her head, reluctant to disagree openly.

“We have a suitable male here. Brother Todd is single, aren’t you?”

“Yes Abu,” I said, with a sinking feeling.

“Do you understand that a male adherent requires the gentle influence of a female?”

“I understand Abu,” I murmured.

“It would please me greatly,” he said complacently, “If devoted and dutiful adherents were inclined to unite in the joy of the Sanctuary.”

Wendy scowled at me. I think she may have even hissed.

As unappealing as I found Wendy, I knew that she was the one suffering the greater humiliation. I was, after all, very much on the outs—maybe one of the lowest ranking adherents, whereas she had consistently been treated as one of the Elites. Brian’s suggestion that she pair up with me was not so different from him recommending she marry a donkey.

For three courses, this continued, from soup to nuts. As the three Golden Children nibbled nervously at their food, Brian needled and terrorized everyone.

After dessert, the little group moved into the lecture room and I bought in a tray of coffee and set it in front of Fabio, who served it to the group. When Brian was settled, Wendy looked at him for a cue.

“Sister Wendy, give your notes to Sister Carol,” he said.

Wendy thrust the folder at Carol with ill-concealed pique. Carol visibly swallowed, gathered up the folder and walked shakily to the podium.

At that point I was dismissed but I could imagine what would follow: another hour or so of extreme unpleasantness. It was at that moment, when I left the lecture room, that I decided I would quit the Sanctuary for good.

***

Back in the kitchen, Soledad was loading the dishwasher and she and Rick were having a heated discussion. As soon as I walked in they fell silent.

“What were you guys talking about?” I asked.

“Nothing,” said Soledad, throwing him a warning look.

Rick was nervously cracking his knuckles and pacing.

“So what do we do now?” he asked, at a loss.

“I don’t know about you guys, but I have a migraine,” I said. “I’m going to take some aspirin and go to bed.”

The pressure in my head arrived suddenly and felt agonizing. Bright white lights stabbed my vision.

“You do look pretty pale,” said Rick. “Want me to help you over to the cabin buddy?”

I thanked him but shook my head and stumbled over to the shed, where I lay on a hard pallet bed in the dark. It took me a couple of hours to get to sleep. When I woke up, I thought it was morning because light was streaming in the window and I heard a monotonous chirping sound. As my senses adjusted, I realized the light was electric. It went off suddenly, so I figured it was one of those motion-sensor lights. I sat up and looked out of the window but couldn’t see a thing.

Checking my phone, I saw it was 2.10 in the morning. Neither Soledad nor Rick were in their beds. I really needed to pee but I was reluctant to go back in the big house so decided to just go behind the shed.

As I was standing there in the dark, I heard a twig crack. I finished peeing and crept to the back of the shed to look at what was there. To be honest, I feared it might be a bear. A motion-sensor light came on and I saw the silhouette of a woman—tall and athletic. It was Carol! She was prowling around the house, peering into windows. The sudden light made her freeze for a second, then she quietly pulled a sliding glass door open (it must have been unlatched) and slipped into the room, pulling it closed behind her.

“What in the name of…?” I murmured. I thought about waiting for a while to see what happened next, but in the end exhaustion won. I’d had more than enough weirdness in the last 24 hours; now I craved the oblivion of sleep.

***

I woke up early the next morning when the sun came blasting in–the real sun this time–and a whole city of birds was squawking and twittering. My migraine had gone but I felt weak. I thought perhaps going for a walk in the garden for some fresh air would help me feel better.

I saw that neither Soledad nor Rick were in the cabin—had they not come back at all? Their bags were there, so presumably they hadn’t simply left the compound. Well, presumably they couldn’thave left because there was a high fence around the perimeter of the property, and the gate was remotely controlled by Brian himself.

I got dressed and stepped out into the dewy, shady garden. The air was fresh, with a cool breeze playing around in the bushes. I surprised a doe with two of her fawns and they stared at me for a few moments before turning and galloping away on long legs, jumping over a wheelbarrow that had been upturned on the edge of the garden. A sense of peace flooded me for the first time in two days.

That was when I saw Brian.

I have already described his grotesque appearance as he hung from the Holy Oak. This was a tree decorated with white prayer cloths left by previous adherents—there must have been at least a hundred of the swatches, some of them ragged and yellow with age. A single word had been embroidered on each one: ‘Serenity’, ‘Wisdom’, ‘Agape’, ‘Devotion’—that sort of thing. The breeze was making them flap, rustling the leaves and making the body swing very slightly.

I put a hand to my head, temporarily unable to process what I was seeing. Then I heard the sound of a toilet flushing in the house and came back to reality. I had to tell the others.

I knocked loudly at the door and eventually Fabio opened it. His eyes were bleary and he was rubbing his eyes.

“Fabio,” I said in a low voice. “Brian’s dead.”

He stared at me, completely dumbstruck.

“What do you mean?” he said, slurring his speech.

He ran outside. When he saw the body, he put a hand over his mouth and stumbled towards it, actually falling to his knees and hugging the feet and sobbing.

“Abu, abu!” he wailed. “Daddy!”

Surprised and somewhat alarmed by this, I pulled him to his feet and led him back to the house.

“Fabio, is there a working telephone here?”

He shook his head, tears sliding down his cheeks.

When we got in the house, Carol appeared in a flannel dressing gown. She looked at Fabio then at me.

“What’s this?” she tilted her head.

“I found Brian hanging out there. It looks like he committed suicide.”

“What?” she said.

“Yeah. We’re going to have to get the police,” I said. “Fabio’s in no state to drive. Is there any chance you could take the van down the hill to town and report it?”

She nodded grimly.

“Of course.”

I asked Fabio where the keys were and how to open the gate and Carol left for town—an hour’s drive away. I left him sobbing in the lounge and went to find the others.

Wendy I saw as she opened her bedroom door. Strangely, even though I was close to her in the corridor, she seemed not to see me but had an abstracted expression and only realized I was there when I spoke her name.

“Wendy!” I said.

“Yes?” she murmured, confused.

She was acting so strangely that I wondered for a moment if she already knew. I watched her reaction closely as I broke the news.

“Brian is dead,” I said. “I found him hanged outside just now.”

She stared at me.

“No, of course he isn’t! You’ve made a mistake.” She charged past me into the lounge. She stood there staring, stunned, at the weeping Fabio.

At that moment I heard a clink of glass downstairs and realized there was a TV blaring down there. Someone was there! Was there an intruder? With adrenalin coursing through my body, I found a staircase and made my way to the basement. When I got to the bottom of the stairs, I met a startling sight.

Soledad and Rick must have found Brian’s wardrobe. She wore a crimson mumu with an emerald-green sash. He was wearing sky-blue satin pyjamas. The pair of them were lounging on big sofas. Strewn around them both were bottles of wine and liquor, as well as dirty plates and packets of chips. They’d strung up ceremonial banners and lit about 50 candles—it was surprising the whole house hadn’t burned down considering their inebriated state. Meanwhile, they were watching a documentary about Alien invasions.

Soledad whooped when she saw me.

“Hey buddy!” Rick clapped and cheered.

“Who’s the A Group now?” Soledad cackled.

“Oh boy, you guys,” I nearly choked on the stale air and went to open a window. “So this is where you were.”

“We’re having shum fun,” Rick grinned.

I gripped my head, afraid of another migraine.

“Listen you guys, you have to clean this up right now.”

“Party pooper!” Soledad screamed, then threw her head back and laughed again.

“Aw, come on Todd, have a drink!” Rick said. He poured some very expensive Barolo half into a glass and half onto the white carpet.

“Guys, listen to me!” I said as I went around snuffing out all the candles. “There’s been a serious accident. The police are coming. You’re going to need to sober up, OK?”

“Whaddide say?” Soledad asked Rick. Rick shrugged.

“Akshident.”

I shook my head. This was not good. This was not good at all. I took Soledad by the shoulders and shook her a little.

By the time the sheriff arrived with Carol, I’d managed to Rick and Soledad to change into their own clothes and to clean up the mess. The sheriff asked the five of us to gather in the lounge to wait—meanwhile, we should not touch the rest of the house.

The sheriff and forensics team were out in the yard. As they went to work, the five of us who were left gathered around the table in the dining room.

Fabio’s eyes were red and he was very subdued. Wendy still had the weird, distrait manner. Carol was jumpy—literally, her knee jiggled up and down. Soledad had slumped over the table, her head on her hands. Rick looked very uncomfortable and had picked up a Diamond Light hymn book and was thumbing through it, now and then humming under his breath.

“I just…I just don’t understand!” Carol burst out suddenly. “It makes no sense. He didn’t seem suicidal in the least.”

“When was the last time anyone saw him?” I asked.

“Well, we finished the presentation at eleven o’clock,” said Carol. “Then I went to bed. Wendy and Fabio stayed in the room with Brian.

We turned to look at Wendy, who nodded slowly.

“Yes, we stayed there for half an hour. She gave a quick sidelong look at Fabio. Then we helped Brian to bed.”

“Why did he need help?” I asked.

“He was a little the worse for drink,” said Fabio. “Actually we all were—Wendy and me too.”

When the sheriff came in, we all stared at him curiously and apprehensively. He was a tall, rangy man in his fifties with leathery skin and a scowl. Carol had briefed him on the situation on the drive to the Sanctuary, so he knew we were a ‘prayer group’ and that we were on a two-week retreat. Carol told us she had not gone into the ins and outs of Diamond Light—it was strictly forbidden to share that privileged information with non-adherents. Just because our spiritual leader had gone didn’t mean we’d lost our hard-won practices.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I’d like to speak with you one-to-one. Is there a private room where I can conduct interviews?”

“The kitchen is probably best,” said Fabio. “There’s a table and chairs. I’ll take you through.”

“Very good. I’ll interview you first then,” said the sheriff. “The rest of you, hang tight.”

We nodded and watched him leave, his heavy boots thudding on the floorboards and his gun clearly visible in the holster.

“Why does he need to interview us all?” said Soledad. “It’s not like it was murder.”

There was an uncomfortable pause as we thought about this.

“I guess, from the cops’ perspective, better to be safe than sorry,” said Rick. “They need to make sure, you know.”

“It was murder,” said Wendy in a low voice.

We stared at her, waiting for explication. She said nothing else, just gazed at the wall.

“What do you mean, Wendy?” Carol said in a shaky voice.

“Last night,” said Wendy, “Someone gave me a sleeping pill. I’ve been thinking about it and I now realize they wanted me out of the way while they killed Brian. There are two people who could have done it and they are sitting right here.”

“Listen, Wendy,” I said, “Let’s not do this right now. We can tell the sheriff what we know. There’s no need to cast suspicion on friends. We’re all in shock right now, I’m sure.”

“You would say that, wouldn’t you?” she smiled unpleasantly.

“Excuse me?” I felt myself getting annoyed.

“Well, you’re one of the suspects.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about right now,” I said truthfully.

“Last night, during the presentation, you brought us coffee. After I drank the coffee, I began to feel very strange—drowsy and disorientated. That coffee was clearly drugged. And Brian and Fabio were affected the same way, after they drank the coffee. Brian fell asleep then and there. Fabio and I had to carry him into Fabio’s room, which was the nearest. The only person who didn’t drink the coffee was Carol.” Wendy looked at her significantly, all of her dislike of the Favorite coming to the fore.

Carol stayed calm.

“I never drink coffee at night. I like my sleep,” she shrugged. “If the coffee was drugged, then Todd must have done it in the kitchen. After all, he was clearly pissed off at the whole ‘servant’ group thing.”

“One question, Carol,” I said. “If you like your sleep so much, what on earth were you doing sneaking about outside in the middle of the night?”

“What’s that?” Wendy said sharply.

I told everyone how I’d been woken by the motion-sensor light and the squeaking, and that I’d seen her prowling around.

Carol was undisturbed. “I couldn’t sleep after the tension of the evening so I’d gone for a stroll in the starlight. It was a beautiful night. The doors locked automatically and I didn’t want to wake the household with the doorbell. So I decided to check if any of the windows were open. Luckily one of the bedrooms did have an unlocked door, and it was empty. As for the squeaking, I don’t know what that was. Maybe you dreamed it.”

It was plausible but not very convincing.

“You know,” said Rick, “There is a way we can check if the coffee was drugged—the cups are still in the presentation room, right?”

“They should be,” said Wendy.

“Guys, don’t move. We have to stay here,” I said. “We’ll tell the sheriff about it.”

“If they were drugged, there’s another possibility,” said Carol. “What about Rick and Soledad? They were in the kitchen, right? And they came into the house during the night.”

“They were never in the shed,” I said, “I can confirm that.” Both of them looked at me with astonishment, not expecting such a betrayal.

“It would make sense that it would have been a two-person job,” said Wendy thoughtfully. “They would have had to carry Brian out to the tree. He wasn’t a lightweight.”

Soledad was getting red and ready to explode. Rick moved over and patted her on the shoulder.

“Look, we’re not murderers, OK? Get a grip, people! If you want to know the truth, we’d been slaving away in the kitchen for hours while you all were celebrating. We wanted to have our own celebration. That’s not a crime as far as I know.”

“Stealing is a crime,” I pointed out, “And you helped yourself to some of Brian’s most prized wines.”

“OK, OK,” he said, “I admit it was wrong.  We were angry, all right? But we’re not murderers and I don’t have access to any kind of sleeping drug.”

Something occurred to me suddenly.

“Wait a minute. Carol, you said the room you climbed into was empty?”

She nodded.

“That was Fabio’s room. I remember because we were there when all the rooms were assigned. And when I brought the coffee into the presentation room, I handed it to Fabio. He was the one who added sugar and milk, right?”

Carol nodded.

“But Fabio was sleepy too,” Wendy protested.

“It’s possible he was faking it, right?” I said.

At that moment, we heard a gunshot and a yell. Fabio had grabbed the sheriff’s gun and tried to shoot himself in the head. He didn’t know that that kind of gun had a safety catch and the sheriff caught his hands, wrestled him to the ground and handcuffed him. From desperation, he admitted everything. He’d drugged Brian and strangled him in his sleep. Then he’d taken him out and hanged him from the tree.

He was arrested for the murder of Brian Fawkes.

When the police had gone, the rest of us were getting ready to leave. Carol and I had finished packing and were chatting outside on a garden bench.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand,” said Carol. “How did he get Brian to the tree? Fabio is not exactly a strong guy.”

I remembered seeing the deer in the garden and looked over at the spot where the wheelbarrow lay upside down on the edge of the garden. It out of place in an otherwise meticulous landscape.

“I will bet you,” I said, “That that wheelbarrow squeaks.”

I thought for a moment.

“My turn,” I said. “There’s one thing Idon’t understand. You don’t seem like the type to take solitary starlit walks. What were you really doing?”

Carol grinned.

“Ya got me.” She dug into her top and retrieved a USB stick. “I was looking for this,” she grinned, and then put it back in her bra.

One month later she hosted a feature-length expose about Diamond Light and Brian’s murder titled “The Death of a God.” It followed her in her undercover journey, where she had been gathering incriminating evidence against Brian and the cult from the very first day of her indoctrination. The show was very popular. It went into the background of Fabio, Brian’s secret biological son by a young adherent who’d committed suicide when Fabio was ten, at which point Brian had adopted the boy.

I left the cult, as did Soledad and Rick. Wendy became the new leader and changed the name to Rebirth Inc. In spite of the documentary, I hear the organization is doing very well and she is on her way to becoming a billionaire.