Tribulation House: Reloaded

Chapter 62

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The next stop for Hank Barton, candidate for City Council, Seventh District: The Kansas City Police Department. Detective Tom Griggs was in and available. “Step this way, Councilor. Or, um, what do I call you?”

“Hank is fine.”

The detective showed Hank to his office. Hank felt the world closing in around him as the other man closed the door and sat down behind the desk.

The detective shuffled some papers and set them aside. “What can I do for you, Mr. Barton?”

“I told you, call me Hank.” He sat back, forcing himself to be cool. He forced a smile. The same expression that got such a workout on the campaign trail.

The other man was all business. “What can I do you for you?” There was something in the man’s voice, some dark familiarity, but Hank couldn’t place what it was.

He gulped and pretended to be brave. Took the leap. “When we spoke a few days ago, officer”—look up from your shoes, Hank, make eye contact—“I’m not certain I was entirely open with you.”

“Hmm.” The man behind the desk remained expressionless. “You’re not certain.”

Hank paused. Shook his head tentatively. “No, sir.”

“You are aware that this is a murder investigation.”

“Yes, sir.”

There was a long pause, the man apparently waiting for Hank to explain himself. His heart was in his throat, so he could not.

Finally, the man asked, “In what way are you not certain you were entirely open with us?”

Look up, make eye contact, be brave. Fake it if you have to. “I did have a dispute with the deceased.”

“Reverend Daniel Glory?”

“Yes.”

The man seemed to be losing interest. “You told us as much in our interview.” He began checking through his stack of papers on the desk.

“Yes, but…” Hank interlocked his fingers on his lap, fought the urge to fidget. Looking down at his shoes again. When was the last time they were polished? “It was more than a simple dispute. It was a fight.” He paused, looked up again. Looked into the eyes of the law. “I took a swing at him.”

“Really?” The detective did not actually sound surprised. “You tried to hit a minister?”

Hank blushed. “I’m not proud. It was not my finest moment.” He found his interlocked fingers twisting back and forth nervously, disengaged them and grabbed the wooden arms on the chair. “There was a story in the newspaper, and we had a disagreement—well, I suppose what led to the altercation is not entirely salient.”

“You mean this story here?” The officer pulled a clipping from under a pile of papers. Held it up to show it. CANDIDATE LISTENS TO VOICE OF GOD, THE PEOPLE. He looked toward Hank, who nodded and went back to looking at his shoes.

“Yes, that is the one. I felt like the newspaper reporter had already gone out of his way to misrepresent my worldview, and then this two-bit so-called prophet had to stick in his…” Hank trailed off. Shook himself back to the present. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

The man set the clipping back down on his desk. Skimmed the story. “It seems you God types can never seem to get together on what you all believe.”

Hank sat up straighter, something rising within him. “Officer, I cannot excuse my behavior, but you can’t blame God for how some of His servants act.”

The air changed in the room. The man behind the desk seemed to shrink back. “That’s what Charlie was saying—”

“I’m sorry?” Hank frowned. “Charlie who?”

The detective recovered himself, shaking his head. Pushed the clipping back to wherever it must have belonged. “So far, Mr. Barton, you have not shared anything new.” He leaned forward. “What did you come to tell me?”

Hank felt his throat tighten up. His ears started to ring. He gulped and forced himself to forge ahead. “I know who killed Reverend Daniel Glory.”

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