LO, I WILL TELL YOU A MYSTERY
Chapter 8 The Devil You Know
More from Veronica's diary:
If Mac had been there, I'd have stared at her. Since she wasn't, I stared at my phone, which accomplished nothing. "Do you really think Harriman is associated with the devil?" I was an agnostic; I wasn't sure I believed in God, and fairly sure I didn't believe in Her opposite.
"You didn't ask me to think; you asked me to see if there was 'anything sinister', and I did," Mac said, with that I'm-a-sidekick-but-I'm-no-dummy air. "By the way, 'Nick' is another name for the devil, but I presumed you knew that already."
"Right. You did what I asked. Enjoy the rest of your vacation, and may you get a lot more sand in your bikini." I hung up.
"What was that about?" asked Joan.
I explained about the devil names. Joan seemed a lot more intrigued than I expected. "He's never mentioned the devil--"
"Who hasn't?"
Joan looked flustered. "Um -- Hunter."
That name was an afterthought on Joan's part, I could tell.. It sounded like there was somebody involved in the investigation that she didn't want me to know about. Her father? But why deny his role? And then I remembered my first impression of Joan, the girl with a secret. She still had one.
I could probably dig in and figure it out, but it would be a bad idea. There have been occasions when I've unearthed information better left buried. I liked Joan, but once our fathers got here they'd probably separate us. I didn't want Joan to remember me as Veronica the Nosy.
Instead I turned my attention toward sleeping arrangements. My bed was a single and could accommodate only one girl. I suggested that Joan use my father's bed, but she didn't like the idea: sleep in a bed of a man who hadn't even invited her in, like Goldilocks? So we agreed that I would take Dad's bed and let Joan use mine.
-----
SATURDAY MORNING, REALLY, REALLY EARLY
The phone rang, waking me up. This was, after all, a detective business where an emergency could come up at any time of the day or night. The office phone forwarded to our apartment. "Hullo?"
"Mars Investigations?" asked a deep voice.
"Yup." I was too sleepy to articulate anything but a "u".
"I know that you're investigating Nick Harriman. I want to help. I work for him, but I'm sick of it. Just want to keep my name out of it."
Ah, the classic disgruntled employee. I perked up. "What are you offering?"
"I'll leave a key to the office at the foot of the mailbox outside. You can use it to get in the office during the night and search for evidence. The only catch is, sometimes Harriman visits the office in the middle of the night. You'll have to avoid him."
It sounded like a possible trap -- except that the caller was explicitly warning me of the possibility.
"I'll think about it."
----
Joan woke up. The clock said 4 o'clock, which meant 7 o'clock Arcadia time; Joan's own biological clock had gotten her up.
Veronica, when Joan went to look for her, wasn't in her father's room, or anywhere else in the apartment. In the breakfast nook she found a note:
Following up a lead. Be back soon -- Veronica.
Joan frowned. Veronica's note sounded optimistic, but Veronica did not understand the situation. To her the devil connection was a joke. God had never discussed the devil with Joan, but knowing the power of one Being could help her guess at the power of the other.
Joan had been dead weight for most of this trip. Maybe this was her mission -- saving Veronica from a situation in which she was in over her head.
She looked out the window at the apartments' parking lot, which was well lit even at this time of night. Veronica's convertible was gone, but the rental car was still there. If Veronica had also left the keys behind--
She had.
Joan, in the parking lot, was just about to unlock the car door when a familiar voice behind her said "Waitaminute, Joan."
"Aaaiiiee!" screamed Joan. She turned around to find herself looking at Tough Guy God. "PLEASE don't sneak up on me at night like that. Particularly in THAT form."
"On edge?" Tough Guy asked unapologetically. "Good. You should be on your guard."
"OK, I'm on guard," Joan said testily. "Now comes a riddle, right?"
"No. Normally I give you riddles because it exercises your mind to figure them out. But right now we're short on time, so I'll give you straight facts. Harriman has captured Veronica. He's moved her from his office to another hideout, but I can direct you there."
"Fine." Joan unlocked the driver door and got in, while Tough Guy God crossed over and got in the passenger side. What was wrong with this picture? "Hey! You expect me to chauffeur you over? Why can't you just teleport us there? Or ask a couple of your Four Horseman for a ride?" The latter was a joke; Joan was frightened of ordinary horses, let alone supernatural ones bringing the end of the world.
"When I assume human form, I accept human limitations."
Joan rolled her eyes and started the car.
----
Tough Guy God directed her to a house. Even from outside it didn't look like a cozy home like the Girardi's. Windows drawn, yard basically neglected. Probably just a place for "Harriman" to hole up; he didn't care about what people thought of it.
As she got out at the house that Tough Guy God designated, Joan felt a familiar ill wind.
"OK, Hunter," she said in a loud whisper. "I know you're there and I presume you know that I'm here. So let's cut the crap and talk."
Hunter emerged from behind a tree. "If you insist," he said politely, as if they were rivals in a debate instead of cosmic opposites. "But I suggest we hide. Arguing out here would lose the element of surprise."
They retreated behind the trees again. "What have you done with Veronica?"
"Nothing. I didn't hurt the Rivers family either. It was all Harriman's doing."
"You really like taking responsibility, don't you? So what did you do?"
Hunter grimaced. "After your 'army' drove me out of Arcadia, I realized that needed allies of my own, and one was obvious. Lots of religions teach of an Adversary: a devil, as in Christianity, or a God of Evil, as in Zoroastrianism. Since God had not lived up to my expectations, I thought the Adversary might have been maligned. So I searched, and thought I had found him here in Neptune. Ahriman, the God of Evil according to Zoroaster."
Why was he telling her all this? Maybe, even after a year of conflict, he still felt the urge to try to justify himself to Joan, or even talk her over to his side. As long as she stayed loyal to God, his own choice was in question.
"What did you do?"
"Made a pact. It seems that, like God, he puts mysterious restrictions on himself in this world. We decided to use the loan shark business as a front for buying souls. I'd put the money, he'd lend it to bad prospects, then we'd forgive their debts -- nice religious phrase, that -- in return for their souls."
"For all eternity?"
"No. The FAUST legend got that wrong, according to Harriman. We'd have only a life interest, and their ultimate destination would be up to God. Instead of the free-will-but-its-good-for-you crap that your God gives you, we'd have bondsmen under contract. Nobody would get hurt. But when Harriman wrecked the Rivers to force them to pay him back, I realized that he was too earthbound, more interested in money than in souls. I gave your friend an anonymous call encouraging her to break into Harriman's office, but unfortunately he captured her."
It wasn't at all clear to Joan how you could buy somebody's soul and not hurt them. Apparently Hunter had thought it all out to his own satisfaction -- and she didn't really want to learn how Hunter thought. "So now what?"
"So now I'm going to rescue your friend, if you'll stay out of the way."
"You expect me to trust you?"
"YES," came a voice from an unexpected direction. Tough Guy God was still standing next to his car. "He is telling the truth, as far as rescuing Veronica goes. Work with him."
Hunter glared at Tough Guy God with hatred; she remembered that, unlike her, he could recognize God in any guise. But he must have realized that arguing the point would simply slow matter further. "There. Your divine friend supports me."
"Then let's go."
They got on the porch, and Hunter kicked in the door. Joan winced; did sharing Hunter's ends imply accepting his means? But she followed Hunter into the house.
Harriman, who of course had heard his door being kicked in, ran up, but calmed somewhat at seeing Hunter rather than a cop. "What's this about?"
"Let the girl go. Nobody was supposed to get hurt."
Joan saw Veronica behind Harriman in the house's kitchen. Unconscious, and tied to a chair. But Harriman barred her way when she tried to step forward. Much as she hated it, she had to depend on Hunter's negotiation.
"You really believe that? You can't make an omelet without breaking eggs. If we let her go, she'll go straight to the authorities and turn us in. And who's this bitch? You shouldn't have brought your girlfriend."
"Never mind the girls. We can start over somewhere else. Just let her go."
"You're giving me orders? Do you remember who I am?"
"I remember who you said you are, but I have doubts now. Fortunately, there is a simple test. As Shakespeare said four centuries ago in OTHELLO: 'If there art a devil, I cannot kill thee.'
And with no more ado, Hunter drew a pistol out of his pocket and shot Harriman point-blank. The loan shark collapsed, clearly badly wounded. Hunter dashed out of the house. Joan stood, frozen in horror, until she realized that she was the only one who had freedom of action and lives might depend on her.
Stepping to the house's phone, she punched in 911. "Hello? I need police, and an ambulance---"
TBC