Chapter 14. Serpents and Camels #2
Devin and Bess stood near the front, congenial expressions on their faces as they held court with several couples and a few people who appeared to be unattached.
Tess and her husband stood halfway back, likewise entertaining a small crowd.
I realized then that Bess and Tess were not identical.
Rather, they were mirror images of each other.
Bess parted her hair on the right side of her head, while Tess parted hers on the left.
I filled a paper cup with decaf coffee and selected a raspberry streusel muffin from the display of baked goods. One bite and I realized the woman who’d escorted me to my seat was right. The muffin was like manna from heaven.
The woman from the visitor table flitted about, a social butterfly introducing the visitors to members.
I hoped to lie low, at least for now, so I could keep an eye on Devin and Bess.
Lest she try to force me to be social, I remained on the move, slowly circling the room while watching the couple.
Were they who they appeared to be, an attractive, charming couple who wanted to share God’s word with others?
Or were they ruthless businesspeople who’d formed the church as a way to finance the Grace Notes’ tours?
I was on my seventeenth lap in the large room and working up a large blister on my heel when the line of people waiting to speak to Devin and Bess had dwindled to a trickle. I went over and stepped up beside a couple as they exchanged hugs with the pastor and his wife, clearly on their way out.
Once the couple had walked away, Devin and Bess turned to me. The two looked flawless. Devin could have graced the cover of a men’s magazine, and Bess’s milky skin and pale hair glowed with an ethereal, otherworldly light, making her look like an angel on earth.
Devin stuck out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met.”
“It’s my first time here.” I took his hand. “I’m Whitney Flynn.”
Bess likewise offered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Whitney. What led you to our fellowship?”
“An article I read in a local paper,” I said.
Devin nodded. “Our church has been featured extensively in the media. We do things differently around here, and that gets people’s attention. The free publicity has brought many new members to our doors. Which particular article was it?”
“The one written by Tyler Yee.”
Devin and Bess exchanged a glance before Devin turned back to me. “Is that right?” Though his voice was casual, the fact that he slid his hands into his pants pockets as if to hide them told me he might not be feeling as relaxed as he sounded. “What about his article spoke to you?”
“I don’t know, exactly.” I lifted one shoulder and let it drop. “I guess it was that he made your church sound interesting.”
“We do our best,” Devin said. “I’ve sat through many a boring service myself. The last thing I’d want to do is drone on so long that people nod off.”
“I found him, you know.”
“Found him?” Bess repeated. “Jesus, you mean?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I found Tyler Yee. Right after he’d been killed.”
Bess gasped and Devin gaped for a beat. He gave his head a firm shake, as if my words had caused his thoughts to scatter and he was trying to corral them. “You did?”
Bess pressed a palm to her chest. “That must have been so traumatizing for you!” She lowered her voice and leaned toward me. “Is that why you came to our church today? To seek comfort?”
I’d come to seek clues, not comfort, but I nodded nevertheless.
Before I could say anything else, Devin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “Was Tyler Yee a friend of yours?”
“He was doing a story on a remodeling job I’m working on. I hardly knew him, really, but it was still quite horrifying to discover him dead.”
“I can only imagine…” Devin said, his voice trailing off and his gaze taking on a faraway look. “What happened, exactly?”
The news reports hadn’t noted the cause of death, and I knew it was best to use discretion with details law enforcement hadn’t disclosed. “I’d rather not talk about that.”
Devin raised his palms. “Understood.”
“We’ve been praying for his family,” Bess added.
“You were aware he’d passed, then?”
“Of course,” Bess said. “Before he wrote the article about our church and put out the podcast, he spent several days here conducting interviews and seeing what we’re all about. He attended a Sunday service, as well.”
“Nice guy,” Devin said. “Very thorough.”
“Such a senseless tragedy.” Bess’s gaze went to my lips while a soft smile pulled at hers. “He was partial to the raspberry streusel muffins, too. He even took one home for his girlfriend’s little boy.”
I whipped my compact from my purse, opened it, and looked into the mirror. Sure enough, a tiny piece of pink raspberry goo was stuck to the corner of my lip. I removed it with a tissue, and tucked both the compact and the tissue back into my purse.
Tyler had implied that the Redemption Fellowship might be nothing more than a country club in disguise with tax-deductible dues, yet the two spoke as if Tyler’s article and podcast hadn’t affected them a bit. Surely this is an act, right?
Devin said, “We don’t keep a close eye on local news, but a few of our members contacted us when they heard he’d been killed.
Far as I know, they haven’t caught the person responsible.
” He cocked his head, his brow furrowed.
“Do you know where the investigation stands? Was there evidence at the scene that points to the killer?”
I was tempted to give him the old line I’ll ask the questions here, but instead I said, “It’s probably best I don’t disclose what I know.” Detective Alonzo hadn’t specifically ordered me to keep mum, but it was a good practice. Besides, I didn’t know much.
Devin exchanged a knowing look with his wife before turning back to me. “You’re as tight-lipped as that detective who came by to speak with us earlier in the week.”
Bess crossed her arms loosely over her chest. “She wouldn’t tell us anything, either. She just wanted to know if anyone in the church had been particularly upset about the article or podcast.”
“And?” I prodded, hoping they’d be less tight-lipped than Detective Alonzo and me.
“A few people were offended at first,” Bess said, dropping her arms. “But Devin gave a sermon on forgiveness and turning the other cheek, and everyone got over it and moved on.”
Had they? “I read the article and listened to the podcast. Tyler suggested the Redemption Fellowship could be considered a cult or a country club, even a chamber of commerce.”
Devin gave me a patient smile. “That’s nothing new, Whitney.
We’ve received the same criticism for years, from folks who are far more influential than Tyler Yee.
Yet our church continues to grow and thrive.
” He raised his arms to indicate the expansive building and grounds around us.
“We’re obviously doing something right, fulfilling a need.
We can withstand a few unkind remarks from a reporter who’s trying to make a name for himself. ”
“Besides,” added Bess, “when you get down to it, he wasn’t entirely wrong.
Our people are our church and, while most are here to worship with others of like mind, we are well aware that some have ulterior motives.
They’re social climbers or they want access to wealthy folks in the hope of selling them something or doing business with them, maybe getting a job with their company.
We can’t control people’s intentions, and we don’t even try. ”
Devin said, “The truth is, Bess and I understand folks like that. We used to be like that ourselves. Back when I was selling timeshares, all I cared about was making a sale and getting my commission. I didn’t care one iota whether the person I put on the hook for years of payments and regrets could afford to buy the timeshare or not. That was their problem, not mine.”
“I was just as bad,” Bess said. “When Tess and I were in our teens and early twenties, we were all about fame and fortune, and amassing more fans who’d worship us.”
Their candor threw me off. “What changed?”
“We became parents,” Bess said. “Having a child changes you forever, in both good ways and bad.” She pinched a tiny roll of loose skin on her abs and chuckled softly before releasing it.
“Totally worth it, though. Nothing else makes you see things so differently. You want to be a good role model for your kid, raise them with the right values, show them a world that is kind and hopeful and supportive.”
Devin’s head bobbed in agreement. “Making sales and getting rich didn’t seem important anymore.
We had more than enough to be financially secure.
We decided to apply our skills to more positive pursuits, ones that wouldn’t benefit just us and our family, but also our community.
We’d both attended church as kids, but we’d drifted away.
We decided we needed to get back to God.
One thing led to another, and here we are. ”
“My sister Tess and her husband had their first child not long after we did,” Bess said. “They went through a similar transformation.”
I wondered how having a child would change me and Collin. “What about the accusation that the church is a cult?”
The two exchanged another knowing look before she turned back to me.
“Redemption Fellowship isn’t a cult, but Devin and I will admit that this church is our vision, our ministry, and we do things our way.
If anyone doesn’t like our methods, they are welcome to find another place to worship.
We’ve lost some members who want to sing in a choir, for instance.
We don’t have a choir. All music is performed by the Grace Notes.
My voice is my gift, and I want to use it in God’s service. ”
Devin said, “We’ve also lost some who think my sermons are simplistic or superficial. You can’t please everyone.”
Bess reached out and laid a supportive hand on Devin’s shoulder.
“Fire and brimstone isn’t our brand. We’re all about praise and joy.
Simple? Superficial? Maybe. But people go home feeling hopeful and encouraged, and isn’t that the purpose of spirituality?
To help people cope? As far as Tyler Yee, we did what God asks us to do.
Turn the other cheek. Forgive and forget. ”
They might have forgiven, but they hadn’t forgotten. The handwritten postcard mailed shortly before Tyler’s death said otherwise.
Devin’s face formed a somber frown. “I hate to say this, but I’m not entirely surprised by what happened to Tyler Yee. Reporters who dig up dirt often disturb things other people don’t want coming to light. He’s not the first journalist to die for the sake of a story.”
“You live by the sword,” Bess said, “you die by the sword.”
“But Tyler didn’t have a sword,” I pointed out. “All he had were words.”
“That may be,” she said, “but you know what they say. The pen is mightier.”
Speaking of the power of words … “Do either of you know someone who posts online under the username Saved and Sanctified?”
The two exchanged another look, but it didn’t appear to be a knowing one. Both shook their heads. “Why?” Devin asked.
“They commented repeatedly on Tyler’s article. Some of the comments seemed threatening. They called Tyler a deceiver and said he’d pay for what he’d done, that God would bring down His wrath on him.”
Devin shrugged. “Sounds to me like they were leaving any punishment up to the Lord. They didn’t threaten to go after Tyler themselves, did they?”
“Not directly.”
“Well, then,” Bess said. “I don’t see any reason to think this Saved and Sanctified person is responsible for what happened to Tyler.”
Things had gone as far as they’d go. I bade them goodbye. “Thanks, Pastor Carmichael.” I gave him a nod. “Thanks, Bess.”
As I said her name, I couldn’t help but think how it sounded like the hiss of the deceiving serpent in the Garden of Eden. Besssss.