The Spoken Word Read online

  Tanner unchained the briefcase and laid it on the table. “Shortly before you arrived, Moroni, I spoke to the prophet, may God protect him.”

  “I hope he’s well.”

  “Dear God,” Tanner said. “You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you?”

  “Willis, you called me here. I didn’t volunteer.”

  Tanner sucked a quick breath. “You understand, there hasn’t been any mention of this in the media. As far as you’re concerned, as far as anyone is, Elton Woolley is on retreat, praying for guidance, and has been for the past several months. That’s what you’ve heard, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll be damned,” Traveler said. Until that moment, he’d completely dismissed the stories being spread by his friend Mad Bill. “He’s ill, isn’t he?”

  Tanner rubbed his drooping left eyelid. “Tell me you didn’t hear it from the Sandwich Prophet, please.”

  “I’m afraid I did.”

  “Dear God, not on one of his sandwich boards?”

  “Bill hasn’t gone that far yet.”

  “What then?” Tanner said, squinting.

  “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “I’ve got to know the worst.”

  “Come on, Willis. You know Bill. He’s always spreading his prophecies, one way or another.”

  Tanner held a hand over his face.

  “All Bill told me was that the prophets illness is proof that the devil has risen, that the end of the Mormon Church is at hand.” Traveler shrugged, “I put it down to wishful thinking on his part.”

  “There’s more to it than that. I can see it on your face.”

  “That’s everything, Willis. You have my word on it.”

  Tanner blinked away his squint. “I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. The prophet thinks of you as a fallen angel.”

  “Don’t start, Willis. Tell me what you want without the sales pitch.”

  “You are the Angel Moroni’s namesake.”

  Traveler sighed; he’d heard it all before. “I was named for my father.”

  “Calling himself Martin because he doesn’t like Moroni changes nothing.”

  “Thank you, Willis. I’ll put that in the Yellow Pages. Moroni Traveler and Son, Angelic Detectives.”

  “The prophet asked for you by name. ‘Only my fallen angel will do,’ he said. Those were his exact words. Few men are so honored.”

  “Do you know what my father said before I left home? ‘Go back on your word if you have to, but don’t get involved with Willis Tanner or his church.’ ”

  Tanner bowed his head and clasped his hands together. “The prophet is failing, Moroni. He has been for some time. What’s happened now could kill him.”

  “What do you want from me?”

  “As I told you on the phone, I’m calling in my marker. As of now you belong to us, for the duration.”

  Traveler stared. There was something in Tanner’s face Traveler had never seen before. A fearful hollowness to his eyes, as if the certainty of his beliefs had suddenly deserted him.

  Tanner unlocked the briefcase and extracted a small, buff-colored envelope, which he handed to Traveler.

  The envelope was addressed to Traveler personally. The prophet’s shaky hand was immediately recognizable. The notepaper matched the envelope. At the top of the page, the initials EW appeared in gold. There was no date.

  Dear Moroni,

  My grandniece, Lael, has been kidnapped. Because of the circumstances, I’ve prayed for guidance. I’ve searched my soul seeking the proper course of action. Only one answer has come to me. It will take an investigator named for an angel to prevail against the forces of evil. I beg your help achieving God’s will.

  Your servant,

  Elton Woolley

  3

  TRAVELER FOUND himself standing in front of the Hill Cumorah. The blinding golden light surrounding the Angel Moroni seemed to radiate its own heat. Only when Traveler reached out to warm his hands did he notice that furnace vents had been integrated into the mural.

  He turned his back on the deception and stared at Willis Tanner.

  “You understood the consequences when you asked me for a favor,” Tanner said. “You knew I’d want repayment one day.”

  Traveler lurched forward, intending to use his size to intimidate Tanner as he’d done so many times before. But his friend didn’t budge from his chair. He merely held out his hand and snapped his fingers. “The note, Moroni. I want it back.”

  Traveler slipped the paper into its envelope before returning it. Tanner immediately set fire to it. An instant before the flames reached his fingers, he dropped the charred remains into a metal wastebasket at his feet.

  “I appreciate the prophet’s faith in me,” Traveler said, “and the debt I owe, but kidnapping belongs to the FBI.”

  “God reveals Himself through our prophets. Who are we to question Him?” Tanner’s untroubled, certain-of-salvation look had returned.

  Traveler sat down again and closed his eyes. Under normal circumstances, sticking his nose into a kidnapping could cost him his investigator’s license. Or worse, if the FBI really got pissed. Utah, however, was different. Here, Elton Woolley always had the last word.

  “Believe in Him,” Tanner said. Whether he referred to the prophet or to God was unclear.

  Traveler launched himself out of the chair and headed back over to the Angel Moroni on the Hill Cumorah. Up close, the painted image disappeared into brush stroke and technique.

  “Talk to me,” Tanner said.

  Traveler turned his back on the angel. “A man like Elton Woolley is guarded more closely than the president. So tell me something. How would kidnappers be able to get in touch with him?”

  “They phoned.”

  “Come on, Willis. You don’t expect me to believe that God’s living prophet on earth answers his own phone?”

  “The number’s unlisted, of course. It doesn’t even show up in the reverse telephone directories.”

  “What does that tell you?”

  “They didn’t actually reach him.”

  “Who then?”

  “The First Apostle, Elihu Moseby. Moseby’s assistant, my counterpart, had just stepped out. It was a fluke.”

  Traveler moved back to the table and sat down. “All right. Tell me about it.”

  “Everything I say here is strictly confidential. You understand that, don’t you?” Tanner waited for Traveler’s nod before continuing. “During Elton Woolley’s illness, the First Apostle has temporarily assumed the prophet’s duties. That includes working out of the prophet’s office in the Hotel Utah.”

  “They must have gotten the phone number from the missing girl.”

  Tanner leaned forward and whispered, “Keep your voice down.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, Willis, we’re in a sealed room under the temple. Now tell me, how many people know about the call?”

  “Only the inner circle.”

  “Are you talking apostles, or what?”

  “Not all twelve. Not as yet.”

  “Who else?” Traveler said.

  “No one.”

  “Moseby’s assistant?”

  “No one.”

  “Did you record the call?”

  “That’s procedure. Moseby delivered my copy personally so no one else would be involved.”

  “I’d like to hear it.”

  “I know it by heart,” Tanner said. “ ‘We have your grandniece, Lael Woolley. You have one week before she dies.’ ” He took a deep breath. “They thought they were talking to the prophet.”

  “One week from today.”

  “From yesterday. The call came in late last night. Moseby insisted on consulting the prophet before taking any kind of action.”

  “Dammit, Willis. You can’t expect one man to do this kind of job.”

  “Watch your language, especially here.” Tanner looked up expectantly. “You were chosen because we can’t bring in the police. Or the FBI. If too many peo
ple know about the kidnapping, it’s certain to get out. Besides, you read the prophet’s note. Only a man named Moroni can prevail.”

  “Your tic’s back, Willis.”

  Tanner ignored him.

  “What are you keeping back?” Traveler said. “The ransom, I take it.”

  “The prophet can’t be seen as vulnerable.” Tanner rubbed his eyes. “Not now, not when he’s so ill. Remember that when you’re looking for the girl.”

  “I haven’t agreed yet. “

  “I know you, Moroni. You won’t walk out as long as you owe me one.”

  “Let’s get back to the call. With all the security equipment you’ve got, you must know where it came from.”

  “A pay phone over on Second East, near Lou’s Wagon Lunch. I can get you the number if you want.”

  Traveler waved away the offer. “My advice to you, strictly as an outsider, you understand, is to negotiate with these people. Buy yourself some time, so your security service can go to work.”

  “Why should they call again? All they have to do is wait for their headlines.”

  “Now we’re getting to it. What headlines?”

  “There are vile rumors sweeping the land, Moroni.”

  “I know, the devil has risen. We’ve already been through that.”

  “It’s being spray-painted all over town.” Tanner tucked his hands into his armpits.

  Traveler leaned forward until only inches separated them. “I want everything, Willis. Otherwise, I take Martin’s advice and renege on my debt.”

  “Should you ever repeat what I’m about to say outside these walls, I’ll deny it. Even under oath.”

  Traveler backed off, giving his friend breathing room.

  “As you know,” Tanner said, taking a deep breath, “God reveals Himself to our prophets as He did in the beginning with Joseph Smith.”

  He extracted his hands and blew on them. His fingers looked as white as his face. His teeth chattered. The sound seemed to drive away his tic.

  The last time Traveler had seen Tanner in such a state was the day the bishop caught them smoking behind the ward house.

  When Tanner continued, speaking through clenched teeth, each word sounded painful. “The kidnappers have demanded a false revelation, one that would give women equal rights within the church. They want female membership in the priesthood. Lael will be released only when such a revelation is made public in the newspapers. If it isn’t printed, she dies.”

  “My God,” Traveler said, coming out of his chair. “It’s about time you people joined the twentieth century.”

  Tanner shook his head. “There’s no leeway here. We follow God’s spoken word.”

  “All you have to do is give women equal rights and the ransom’s moot.”

  “God will not be coerced,” Tanner said.

  “Neither will I, Willis.” Traveler moved away from his friend and began pacing alongside Brigham Young’s wagon train.

  “The prophet trusts you, Moroni.”

  Traveler paused to stare Brigham in the eye. “You can’t keep something like this a secret. Sooner or later word gets out. Then what?”

  “God won’t let us down.”

  “No you don’t. If something goes wrong, I’m going to be the one who gets the blame.”

  “The prophet—”

  “Use your own security people,” Traveler interrupted. He turned his back on Brigham Young and walked over to a group of women pulling handcarts. His great-grandmother had made such a trip, hauling a load from Council Bluffs to Salt Lake across the Great Plains and the Rocky Mountains.

  “You can’t expect me to handle something like this,” Traveler said.

  Tanner dipped into the briefcase again. This time he came up with an audiocassette. “When I helped you find Claire’s killer, you said you’d do anything I asked in return. Would you like to hear your exact words?”

  “Considering the situation, I want to speak to the prophet personally.”

  “The doctors say it’s touch and go at the moment.”

  “If he dies, the kidnappers lose their leverage,” Traveler said.

  “Until then, Mo, you belong to him.”

  “What happens if I say no.”

  “This is our land, Mo. The promised land. No one finds work here if the church says otherwise.”

  Traveler returned to his maroon chair. “I’ve known you damn near all my life, Willis. When the bishop caught us, those were your cigarettes. When your mother smelled liquor on us, you were the one with the bottle.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “If the shit hits the fan, Willis, you’re not coming out smelling like a rose this time.”

  Tanner shrugged. “At the prophet’s suggestion, I’ve prepared a sealed file on his niece. She’s his grandniece, really, but he usually calls her his niece.” An envelope came out of his briefcase.

  “Am I allowed to take this with me?” Traveler said.

  “As long as you treat it as confidential.”

  “I want to hear what you know about the girl.”

  “Lael Woolley’s not exactly a girl. She’s twenty, twenty-one next month. She was a theology student at Brigham Young University until recently when she dropped out to become active in the feminist movement.”

  “Jesus, Willis.”

  “Please, Moroni, no blasphemy. Not here.” Tanner stared at the ceiling as if expecting lightning bolts.

  “Have you considered the possibility that there is no kidnapping, that the girl and her feminists might be up to something?”

  “If you knew Lael, you’d realize that’s impossible.”

  “I don’t know you that well.”

  Tanner smiled; the lip movement set off his tic. “She joined a women’s group calling itself the Army of Nauvoo. So far, they’ve done nothing more aggressive than peddling pamphlets and sending out recruiters.”

  Traveler caught himself before he could swear again. He swallowed the urge but couldn’t contain a snort of approval at the name chosen by the women. Nauvoo, Illinois, was where Joseph Smith announced his revelation making polygamy a tenet of the Mormon Church.

  “I’ll need a list of her friends,” Traveler said.

  Tanner nodded. “She’s an unusual girl, but then you’ll find that out for yourself soon enough. She doesn’t have many close friends her age, not even in school. The names I came up with are mostly women in the Army of Nauvoo.”

  He broke the seal on the manila envelope containing the file and read the names. “Amanda Ware and Jemma Hoyt. They’re both officers in the group.”

  “What about boyfriends?” Traveler asked.

  “She’s not that unusual. His name is Dwight Hafen. He’s a part-time instructor at BYU, working on his doctorate in LDS history. Most days you’ll find him doing research at the church library.”

  “Have you talked to him?"

  “Just on the phone. I kept it casual. I didn’t say she was missing, or anything like that. He claims that he and Lael broke up a while back, though that’s news to the prophet. Hafen says they had a fight about the company she was keeping. I can’t blame him, considering the lesbians who hang around these feminist groups.”

  “Is that Hafen speaking or you?”

  “Finding out things like that is your specialty. He’ll be waiting for you at the church library as soon as it’s light.”

  “I’ll set my own schedule,” Traveler said.

  “Whatever you want, but Hafen will be on standby until you say otherwise. I’ve already seen to that.”

  Traveler took a moment to glance at the file. The church’s computers had been hard at work, compiling printouts of Lael’s classes at BYU, including the names of instructors and all fellow students. Additional teacher/student lists went back to her first-grade class at Wasatch School. Her home address was followed by a printout of all neighbors in a two-block area. The biography page listed Lael’s father as Seth Woolley, the son of the prophet’s dead brother, David; her mother
’s name was Ida. Half a photograph had been clipped to the top of the first page.

  Traveler held it up.

  “I had to edit it for security purposes,” Tanner said. “She was standing next to the prophet.”

  Traveler blinked. A trick of light, a faulty camera setting, unexpected movement, a film flaw, just about anything could account for he was seeing. “Is this a good likeness?”

  “I knew she’d interest you,” Tanner said.

  The young woman staring at Traveler was extremely thin and fragile looking. Her obligatory smile into the camera made a sharp contrast to her sad, brooding eyes. Her hair was parted in the middle and pulled straight back, perhaps into a ponytail, though that didn’t show. He had the feeling that Lael Woolley had tried to make herself look unattractive and old-fashioned deliberately. She hadn’t succeeded.

  “I saw it too,” Tanner said. “She reminds you of Claire, doesn’t she?”

  “They’re nothing alike,” Traveler said, shaking his head. But Tanner was right. Something about Lael brought back memories of Claire.

  “The girl’s very close to the prophet, you understand. He never had children of his own, and his only nephew had just the one, Lael. In any case, she’s been living at home with her mother since leaving BYU. Her parents, I’m sorry to say, are divorced.”

  “Tell me about the Army of Nauvoo,” Traveler said.

  “They started out harmlessly enough, a group of church-going ladies banding together to help the less fortunate. But somewhere along the line they strayed from the word and began demanding membership into our priesthood.”

  “Just like the ransom note,” Traveler observed.

  “For the moment these women are still church members, but we have to conclude that their recent conduct makes them suspect. Only last month they picketed our offices and demanded a meeting with the prophet, though that was out of the question. God knows why Lael would join such a group.”

  “Now that you mention it, I remember reading about the picketers in the paper.”

  Tanner clicked his tongue. “We’ve done our best to keep a lid on their coverage. Nothing in the Deseret News, of course, though the Tribune has let us down on occasion.”

  “That’s because you don’t own the Trib.”

  “Lately, we’ve heard that the Army of Nauvoo has affiliated itself with the Sisters Cumorah.”