I shoved him away and shot him a disapproving look. “Don’t curse in the house of the Lord.”
“This is a tent, Liv.”
“Same thing.”
I couldn’t argue with Catcher anymore. Instead, I was riveted by what was going on with Ezra and the snakes. Without a moment’s hesitation, Ezra shoved his hand inside the rattling box. He whirled around to the crowd and thrust two snakes into the air.
“Oh, hell no,” Catcher murmured under his breath. This time I didn’t bother chastising him since he was echoing my particular sentiment.
The musicians struck up a fast-paced hymn, and Ezra danced around, swinging the snakes around in sync with the music. At the same time, his brother wrung his hands and wore a petrified expression.
Leaning over to Catcher, I said, “What’s up with Zeke?”
“You mean is the fact he looks like he’s about to shit himself with fear part of the show? Like to amp up Ezra’s level of faith?”
“Exactly.”
“If it is, he should win an Oscar for his performance. The dude is actually breaking out in a sweat.”
With his back to the crowd, Ezra suddenly skidded to a stop. When he spun around, his face had contorted in agony. He stared at the congregation for a moment before his gaze dropped to his hand.
“Oh shit!” I exclaimed. The sight of one of the rattlesnakes fangs buried in Ezra’s right hand had made me forget my resolve about not cursing in church.
A scream erupted from Ezra’s lips as he flung the unattached snake in his left hand to the ground while he tried slinging off the attached one. The musicians cut the song abruptly short as they glanced around at each other.
“I don’t understand. He’s been bitten before,” the man beside me said.
“He has?” I questioned.
The man nodded. “But he’s never acted like that.”
When Ezra staggered back, he tripped over the box of snakes, sending it toppling over. The altar became filled with slithering rattlers. Screams broke out then as people started turning over chairs to try to get away.
“Fuck this,” Catcher said as he reached in his suit pocket. I widened my eyes when he produced not one but two pistols. He then started pushing and shoving his way through the crowd to get to the altar. Since I didn’t want to lose him, I grabbed hold of the back of his suit and followed along.
When we reached the altar, Catcher began firing at the snakes in rapid succession. This caused even more pandemonium to ensue. As Catcher went Dirty Harry on the serpents, I ran over to Ezra who was still held prisoner by the rattler on his wrist. My gaze spun around for a weapon. I grabbed the microphone stand and then began beating the snake off of Ezra.
Thankfully, it released its fangs, and using the stand, I flung it over to where Catcher was doing his High Noon shoot-out.
I turned back around to see Ezra collapse onto the stage. I jabbed a finger at Zeke. “Call 911. Now.”
Zeke jerked his cell out of his pocket and dialed while I knelt down beside Ezra. “First off, you need to keep still. The less you move, the less the venom can spread.”
He bobbed his head in acceptance of what I had said. “Ambulance is on its way,” Zeke said as Catcher came over to us.
I looked up at him and Catcher. “I need a sling to tie around his arm to keep the wounds immobile so the venom can’t spread as easily.”
“Handkerchief?” Zeke suggested as he started to reach for his back pocket.
“Too small.”
The next thing I knew Catcher jerked off his suit jacket and tie before ripping off his shirt. Seeing his sculpted bare chest rendered me immobile like being shot with a tranquilizer gun. At the sound of my name, I shook out of my stupor. “What?”
“I said use my shirt.”
“Oh, sorry. I zoned out for a moment.”
“That seems to happen to you whenever you see me without a shirt,” Catcher replied with a grin.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I was mentally going over a checklist of what to do next.”
“Sure you were.”
“Whatever. Make yourself useful by folding that into a triangle for the sling.”
While Catcher went to work, I took Ezra’s arm and folded it across his chest. Once the shirt was ready, I slid it under Ezra’s back and arm. I brought the ends together at his collarbone and then tied them. “Okay, that’s all we can do for now. You’ll have to get to the ER to be administered the antivenin.”
“Okay. Thank you,” Ezra said weakly.
“Should I pee on him?” Zeke suddenly asked.
Catcher stared open-mouthed at Zeke. “Have you fucking lost your mind?”
Zeke swept his hands to his hips. “Old-timers used to say pissing on snake bites helped to dilute the venom.”
I shook my head. “Neutralization of venom by urination is just a myth.”
“Thank God. The last thing I need to see is his dick,” Catcher muttered.
Zeke opened his mouth to say something to Catcher, but he was interrupted by an ambulance’s wail. It came tearing through the clearing, kicking up dirt and clumps of grass. It screeched to a halt to the right side of the tent. Catcher ran over to escort them over in the continuing chaos of the crowd.
Of course at the sight of the paramedics and their stretcher, the crowd parted like it was Moses with the Red Sea. I scrambled to my feet and got out of their way so they could start working on Ezra.
As they started an IV line, one of the paramedics glanced up at us. “We’re just going to stabilize him here. We need to get him to the hospital as quick as possible so they can administer the antivenin. Who is the next of kin or power of attorney?”
Zeke raised his hand. “I’m his brother.”
The paramedic nodded. “You can ride along with us if you’d like.”
“I would. Thank you.”
As the stretcher carrying Ezra was shuffled back to the ambulance, Catcher placed a hand on Zeke’s shoulder. “I’ve got more than a few questions for you.”
Zeke narrowed his eyes at Catcher. “And just who are you?”
After fishing his badge out, Catcher flashed it at Zeke. “GBI.”
Zeke winced. “Follow me to the hospital, and I promise I’ll answer whatever you want to know.”
“I’m glad to hear that. I would’ve hated to have you arrested for obstruction of justice.”
After giving us a sheepish grin, Zeke said. “Yeah, considering I’m on probation, that would have really sucked.”
“And the plot thickens,” Catcher mused.
“Yeah,” Zeke replied. He gave a short wave before he hopped in the back of the ambulance. As the doors shut, the wail of the ambulance kicked up.
Catcher jerked his chin toward the hillside where we’d parked. “Let’s get going. There’s no one else here I need to question. Zeke and Ezra are the ones with the answers.”
I nodded. Catcher and I weaved our way through the crowd of onlookers that were hanging around the edge of the tent. When they saw us, people stopped talking and stared wide-eyed. I guess Catcher’s snake shoot-up had them a little shaken.
“Bless you, ma’am,” an elderly man said.
The comment took me so off guard that I tripped over my own feet. “Um, thank you.”
A heavy-set woman in a faded housedress stepped in front of our path. Her hands were clasped like she was about to start praying. “Might I touch the hem of your skirt?”
While slightly recoiling back from the woman, I glanced around the anxious faces. “I don’t understand.”
“The scriptures say that the woman with the blood issue was healed by touching just the hem of Christ’s garment.”
My eyes bulged at her statement, and I held my hands up. “I’m sorry, but you’re mistaken. I don’t have any mythical healing properties.”
“But you saved Pastor Ezra from the serpents,” a twenty-something looking guy in overalls protested.
“By using common medical knowledge that I l
earned in one of my college classes. I’m just a coroner.” When they still stared earnestly at me, I shook my head. “Seriously. I just work with dead people. I’ve never been able to resurrect any of them.”
My response didn’t seem to sway the people’s respect. I forced a smile to my lips. “We have to go now. But thank you.”
I then started powerwalking away from the tent with Catcher on my heels.
Once we were inside the safety of the convertible, I reached over to lock the door before I buckled my seatbelt. Catcher chuckled. “Are you really afraid of those holy rollers?”
“Yes, as a matter of fact I am. We’re talking about people who risk their lives by taking the Bible so literally that they physically handle snakes, rather than just symbolically.”
“I don’t think you had anything to worry about considering they were ready to worship you. I’m the one who should’ve been worried considering I’ve known you in the biblical sense.”
“False religious adulation by whacked-out people is pretty damn scary. I mean, look at Jonestown and the Branch Davidians. Shit gets epically crazy when they realize that you’re a fake and then turn on you.”
As he pulled the car onto the road, Catcher reached over and took my hand in his. “Don’t worry. I won’t let the crazy Bible Thumpers get you.”
I giggled while trying not to swoon like a lovesick school girl at his words. “Thank you.”
He winked. “Anytime.”
True to his word, Zeke was waiting on us outside the emergency room doors. “How is Ezra?” I asked.
“Doctors haven’t been out yet, but the paramedics told me while he has a rough twenty-four hours ahead of him, he should be fine.” He smiled at me. “Thanks to you.”
I held up my hands. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m just grateful I paid attention in that seminar during my forensic science degree on wildlife injuries and deaths.”
Since the waiting room was packed with people, Zeke gestured for us to go outside. We followed him out the mechanized doors and over to a secluded side of the hospital.
Catcher cocked his brows at Zeke. “Is all this secrecy necessary?”
“Yes and not just because I’m on probation.” He reached into the back pocket of his pants and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. After we refused his offer of one, he lit up and took a long drag. He glanced left and right before exhaling a puff of smoke. “Our entire ministry is a lie.”
“You don’t say?” Catcher responded, amusement twinkling in his eyes.
“There’s nothing spiritually different about Ezra. You see, all his life he’s been a faithful guy. About fifteen years ago, he felt the calling to start preaching. He tried to start several churches, but they all eventually failed. It all boiled down to the fact there just isn’t anything special about him. After visiting a snake-handling church, he decided that was his true calling.” Ezra shook his head as he took another drag on his cigarette. “I tried ‘til I was blue in the face to talk him out of it, but he was bound and determined to do it. As luck would have it, it was around that time I ended up being thrown in county lockup for public drunkenness.”
Catcher snorted. “Nice.”
Ezra stomped out his cigarette. “Hey, I never said I was the overly faithful one. You could call me the prodigal son at best.”
“Gotcha. So what happened when you were in lockup?”
“I shared a cell with this guy who had been arrested earlier that night for public lewdness.” At what must’ve been my curious expression, Zeke said, “He was screwing women on a pool table at the local bar.”
Heat flooded my face. “Oh,” I murmured at the same time Catcher questioned, “Women?”
Zeke nodded. “Apparently, he’d done two already and had a line of volunteers waiting to be next.”
“Interesting. And I have to say I’m on pins and needles to find out how the fuck this relates to a snake-handling ministry.”
Zeke scowled at Catcher. “I’m getting there. Anyway, so after banging two chicks and being arrested, the guy is still hard as a rock. He tells me that it’s this male enhancement drug he’d been using. It could keep him going for hours, not to mention it gave him an extra inch.”
Catcher crossed his arms over his chest. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really. Since I’m curious about the product, I asked him where he got it. Said some guy he met at this nudist colony—”
“They actually prefer nudist resort,” I argued. Both Catcher and Zeke shot me a look. “Sorry.”
“Like I was saying, he’d been to a party at the nudist colony, and he met this guy who was a pharmacist and made his own drugs.”
Catcher cut his eyes over to me before looking back at Zeke. “Did he mention what the guy’s name was?”
“Yeah. He gave me his name and private number—Randy Dickinson.”
My breath hitched at hearing Zeke speak Randy’s name. I glanced at Catcher to see how he was going to handle this development. “Did you meet up with Randy to get some male enhancement?”
“I wasn’t just interested in that. It was more about what Randy could do for the ministry. You see, I figured if Randy could make a man enhancer, then he might be able to make an antivenin, so that Ezra could handle snakes but not get killed.”
Ah, now it was all starting to come together. “So Randy made you an antivenin?”
Zeke nodded. “The best part was he made it where it would be a preventative measure, not after the fact. That way Ezra never knew. I just slipped a few drops into his water every day, and bam, he was good to go. When he started getting bitten and not dying, word grew of his gift. The crowds at the tent meetings doubled, even tripled, overnight. We started collecting lots of money in love offerings.”
Catcher cocked his brows at Zeke. “I’m sure more money was spiritually rewarding for you.”
“It’s never been about the money for me—it’s about Ezra’s happiness.” When Catcher gave Zeke a pointed look, he held up his hands. “Fine. I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that the money was an added plus. But let me assure you that Randy’s shit doesn’t come cheap either.”
“But if Ezra was taking the antivenin, why did he react the way he did tonight?” I questioned.
Zeke grimaced. “I ran out of antivenin two days ago. I’ve been trying to get ahold of Randy for two days, but he’s not answering his phone.”
“That’s because he’s dead,” Catcher dead-panned.
After staggering back, Zeke clutched his chest. “Randy’s dead?”
I nodded. “Murdered.”
Zeke ran both his hands through his hair as he shook his head. “Holy shit. I can’t believe it.”
It was pretty clear at that moment that Zeke wasn’t our killer. Neither was his brother considering Ezra had no idea who Randy was. Unless Zeke had any information for us, we were back to square one.
Zeke gave a mirthless laugh. “Without Randy, our ministry is screwed.”
“Your ministry was screwed the moment Ezra’s snake bite was called into law enforcement. They’ll be patrolling the fairgrounds now to ensure you guys are closed down. In case you missed it, snake handling is illegal in the state of Georgia.”
“Yes, I was aware of that. Ezra was always safe.”
“Yeah, what about the kids I saw there? Were they drinking the antivenin too?” Catcher demanded.
Zeke averted his gaze to the ground. “No. They weren’t.”
“You seem like a nice guy, so I’m sure you wouldn’t have wanted a dead kid on your conscious if one of the snakes had gotten away from Ezra.”
“No. You’re right. I get it. I guess I’ll have to tell Ezra the truth,” Zeke lamented.
With a shrug of one of his shoulders, Catcher said, “You could, or you could simply lead him to believe that the law will no longer allow him to handle snakes.” At both Zeke’s and my curious expression, Catcher added, “The man almost died tonight. Don’t kill his faith as well.”
While Zeke did
a slow bob of his head in agreement, my amorous feelings for Catcher amped up a notch. How was it a good-looking, sex machine could have such a deep side? It was almost as much of a mystery as who killed Randy.
“Before we go, I need to ask if you know any of Randy’s other clients?”
“Nope. Randy was really good about maintaining your privacy, which was a plus for me. In fact, all the bottles of antivenin just came with a number. My name was never on the bottle, nor was it labeled antivenin.”
“And what number was that?”
“Seven.”
Catcher scribbled that down on his notepad. “So you don’t know anything about anyone else affiliated with Randy?”
After thoughtfully scratching his chin, Zeke replied, “There was this one time when I asked him how the hell he came up with all this stuff. He said he collaborated some with the Granny Witch Thornhill.”
“A witch?” Catcher questioned, stilling his pen.
“Not a witch, but the Granny Witch Thornhill.”
“All-righty then,” Catcher replied. His tone alluded to how ridiculous he found the turn of the conversation. I couldn’t blame him since it was all too bizarre. I guess now we could add witches to the craziness of nudists and snake handlers.
“She’s not a black hat and spells kinda witch. Granny Witch is the name given to mountain women who practice folk healing.” At what must’ve been Catcher’s and my blank expression, Zeke said, “You know, women who did midwifing or dowsing for water to make wells. They also delved in potions for healing.”
“Since I grew up in Atlanta, I wasn’t aware of any of that,” Catcher said.
When he looked at me, I shook my head. “While I’ve heard of mountain folk healing, I haven’t heard of the term ‘Granny Witch’.”
Zeke snorted. “Yeah, I should’ve pegged you two for city-folk.”
I fought the urge to argue with him that Taylorsville was hardly a major metropolis.
“Just ask around for the Granny Witch Thornhill, and I’m sure you’ll find her.”
“With just that much to go on, I hope you’re right,” Catcher mused.
“If that’s all for me, I better get back and see how Ezra’s doing.”