Disclaimer: This story is written for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made from it. No infringement on anyone’s copyrights is intended.
Please note: This story contains religious themes. Any offense to deities real or imagined, mortal or immortal, graven or ethereal, and their devotees, worshipers, or minions is absolutely unintentional.
Comments about this story can be sent to: suedavid1@yahoo.com and valerieww@aol.com

Faith Healer - Part One

By

Sue David and Valerie Wells
8/2001

   Some glad mornin' when this life is o'er
   I'll fly away
   To a home on God's celestial shore
   I'll fly away
   I'll fly away, oh, glory
   I'll fly away
   When I die
   Hallelujah by and by
   I'll fly away

   The air was hot and thick with sweat and singing in the small storefront church. A man played the guitar and a teen-age girl shook a tambourine as the congregation clapped and swayed and sang.

   Just a few more weary days and then
   I'll fly away
   To a land where joys will never end
   I'll fly away

   Some of the women shook their long hair loose from the confining buns and braids they wore in the outside world and raised their hands in the air, eyes closed, whirling with the music, swaying, dancing in the ecstasy of worship. Tears flowed down many faces. A little boy, not much more than 8 or 10 years old, flung himself on the mourner's bench and sobbed out his sins to his God. Several of the men surrounded the boy, lifted him up, laid hands on him and prayed in tongues. The boy raised his hands in the air, lips quivering, and in moments he, too, was praying in tongues. Then his eyes rolled up and he fell backwards into the safety of the men's waiting arms. They lowered him gently to the ragged carpet and left him there. The boy lay as if in a trance, completely still, with eyes open and transfigured with the light of his newfound salvation.

   A middle-aged man in a white dress shirt, tie half undone, a large white handkerchief in one hand and a well-worn Bible in the other, approached the wooden pulpit.

   "And He said unto them, 'Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel to every creature!'"

   "Amen!"

   "That's right!"

   "He that believeth and is baptized shall be saved, but he that believeth not shall be damned!"

   "Yes, Lord!"

   "And these signs shall follow them that believe: In my name shall they cast out devils -- "

   A woman shrieked and fell in the aisle at those words, trembling and sobbing. Other women surrounded her. A man offered his suit jacket to lay across her hips so, that in case her dress crept up, nothing would show.

   The preacher went on without a break, "They shall speak with new tongues! They shall take up serpents; and if they drink any deadly thing, it shall not hurt them! They shall lay hands on the sick, and they shall recover!"

   "Amen! Yes, Jesus!"

   The woman in the aisle was still shrieking and sobbing, and the women surrounding her were crying and praying aloud, kneeling around her, raising their hands to heaven.

   The preacher turned toward several large wooden boxes lined up against the wall behind the pulpit. As he did so, several women snatched at young children and carried or led them to the back of the room. The other adults continued to pray or sing or dance to the music that had never stopped.

   The preacher reached into a box and withdrew a rattlesnake. He held it high over his head, and the snake shook its rattles, struggling to coil.

   "They shall take up serpents!" the preacher cried over the noise.

   "Yes, Lord! Amen!"

   He held the snake almost lovingly, grasped it around the head and gazed into its eyes. The forked tongue of the snake slid out of its mouth, almost touching the man's lips. Sweat rolled down his temples, but he never noticed. Man and snake stared at each other as the music and the dancing and the singing and the praying went on around them.

   Other men reached into boxes – a few women, too. Soon, there were half a dozen snakes in the arms of members of the congregation: water moccasins, rattlers, even a cobra, which opened its hood and posed, regally.

   The teen-age girl's voice pierced the other noise, rising above it, sweetly:

   "Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
   That saved a wretch like me
   I once was lost but now I'm found
   Was blind, but now I see...."

   A hush fell over the room at last. Only the crying of one of the babies in the back disturbed the peace as one after another, the congregation fell silent. Some knelt. Others raised their hands, tears falling, eyes closed. One by one, other voices joined the girl's.

   "'Twas grace that brought me safe this far
   And grace my fears relieved
   How precious did that grace appear
   The hour I first believed."

   The preacher, his shirt now soaked with sweat, his eyes glowing with faith and conviction, replaced the snake in the box and turned back to the pulpit and his Bible.

   "Many are called," he said, "but few are chosen." Lifting the Bible, he pointed to it with his free hand, the one holding the handkerchief. He wiped his face. "Do you believe," he asked, leaning forward, "do you believe every word in this holy book is true?"

   "Yes! Amen!"

   "Do you trust in the Lord? Do you love Him with all your heart, all your strength, and all your mind?"

   "Yes, Lord!"

   "Amen!"

   "Are there any here who have doubts? Is there even one lost soul in this sanctuary who does not know with absolute certainty that heaven will be your home when you die? Even one!"

   The boy who had lain on the floor all this time stirred, rose, rubbed at his eyes as if he didn't quite know where he was, and stared at the preacher with starry-eyed wonder. The preacher looked down on him, smiled, and pointed at him. "And a little child shall lead them!" he thundered. "If you do not believe with the faith of a child, you shall be damned in that final judgment! Could you look your Lord in the eye right now, tonight, if you should die, and give Him one good reason why He should allow you into heaven? Can any of us?"

   The silence gave way to murmured prayers, people speaking in tongues, quiet sobbing, or outright crying as hands went up in supplication all over the room.

   "Only one thing can save you!" the preacher cried. "The blood of the Lamb! Shed for you on the old rugged cross! By His stripes we are healed!"

   Men lined up across the front of the room and the congregation started coming forward, just a few at first, then more and more until almost everyone was lined up for prayer. The men laid their hands on them, prayed for them. Several fell backwards into the waiting arms of others, who lowered them to the floor. Voices rose in prayer. The preacher prayed, also, holding the hands of those who came forward, or kneeling to lay hands on an arthritic leg, pulling a brother in the Lord close to hear his confession of impure thoughts or deeds, gently touching the faces and shoulders of troubled men, women, and children.

   The service went on, deep into the night, prayer and song and sweat and hope playing out in an old storefront bearing a hand-painted sign in the window: "The Church of Signs and Wonders."

~~~~~~~~~~

   First thing Monday morning was not the best time to have a meeting with Captain Dobey. He was rarely in a decent mood. Sundays off with the family seemed to make him more reluctant to dive into another week as Captain of Detectives rather than providing a needed recharge to his emotional batteries. Unfortunately, this Monday, Starsky and Hutch had been called into his office on their way into the precinct. They knew it wouldn't be pretty.

   When they cruised into the squad room, they saw that Dobey's office door was open and he immediately bellowed for them. Hutch stopped his progress to the coffee maker with a sigh as he followed his partner into the lion's den.

   "Morning, Cap'n," Starsky said cheerily.

   Hutch knew better, he simply nodded his greeting.

   "Ain't nothin' good about it, Starsky," Dobey grumbled. "First thing Monday morning and we've already got a homicide."

   Hutch said, "That's not all that unusual, Cap."

   "Now that the pleasantries and statements of the obvious are out of the way, gentlemen, you think we could talk about the case?" Dobey was in about as bad a mood as they had seen in a long while.

   Starsky attempted to placate him, concerned by the extra level of anger at such an early hour. "Hey, take it easy, Cap. We're on your side, 'case you forgot."

   Dobey opened his mouth to holler again, then thought better of it. "Yeah, okay. Point taken."

   Hutch said, "Let's start over. Something special about this homicide, Cap?"

   "Yeah, more than one thing. First, the death is supposed to look like an accident. Snake bite. Second, the victim was involved in that traveling side show of a faith healer's act down in the old sports arena parking lot."

   Starsky smiled slyly. "Don't beat around the bush, Cap. You mean you don't buy this whole miraculous healing thing?"

   "I believe in miracles, Starsky. I also believe there are charlatans out there and this bunch is just one step away from being a cult."

   The word "cult" caused a cold shiver to run up Starsky's back and settle in his brain. The team's last dealings with a cult had not been pleasant. "You mean like Marcus?"

   "No, not like that at all. This isn't just some nut with a messianic complex like Marcus. That's probably easier to deal with than this sort of thing. They do have a charismatic leader. The Right Reverend Benjamin Haley. His sister, Esther Haley, is his cohort. Sometimes she does the preaching, but we think he always does the healings. Gentlemen, this case is going to be complicated and I want you two on it."

   "You got it, Cap. Where's the body? We'll go have a look," Starsky said.

   "No, I don't want you near it. You two are going undercover. I sent Hill and Cavanaugh down to look at the body. They're supposed to report to you when they get back here."

   The detectives looked at each other, holding one of their trademark silent discussions.

   Captain Dobey pulled them back out of their nonverbal communication by clearing his throat and tapping his pencil impatiently on his desktop. "You two mind TALKING when you're talking to each other?"

   Starsky looked a little sheepish. "Sorry, Cap. Weren't we talking?"

   "Would I have said that if you were!" Dobey stated.

   Hutch decided to press on in hopes of gaining a less hostile purchase on which they could sit. "All right, Cap'n. We're in. What's our cover and what's the scheme?"

   Dobey looked at the blond detective. Hutchinson had a gift for deflection that Dobey had always admired. He smiled slightly. "You know, Hutchinson, I'm afraid I'm gonna lose you to the hostage negotiation team one of these days. You're smooth." Their laughter dissipated the last of the tension in the room as the captain explained the case to them.

   The traveling religious group had settled semi-permanently in the Bay City area four months ago. Rumors around town had it that the Haleys were called to save the people of Southern California. Their group had originated in the mountains of Tennessee. No one was certain of their exact religious origins, but it was believed that they were an offshoot of an extreme group of Christians who used deadly snakes in their worship services. Though Haley had a formal education in theological studies, his practices had made him an adversary of most major religious groups.

   Haley and his sister claimed they were able to heal the afflicted. Many people had come to the tent show services to hear the word of God and to be healed by his power. Already, several people had died when they stopped taking their prescribed medical treatment in favor of the reverend's healing ministrations.

   Upset family members had come forward and the case was under scrutiny by the Metro team responsible for investigating potential bunko operations. All of the deceased church members were wealthy and family members were saying Haley and his sister bilked them out of thousands of dollars in "donations" to the church. Though they never accepted actual payment for their services, the proverbial hat was passed through the tent several times during every service and the preacher accepted special donations for private sessions. The department did not know how much money had been collected to date, but the overflowing collection plates were silent witnesses to the potential amount. The money was supposed to go toward building a permanent church building for the group. They called themselves The Temple of Signs and Wonders.

   Today's homicide victim was a wealthy widow from Santa Monica. She was found dead in the sports arena parking lot near the main tent. The coroner at the scene said the cause of death was most likely from a poisonous snake. Unable to say for certain until he could conduct a post mortem, he believed it was possibly a coral snake. That's what led the department to suspect foul play. Even in the city, a rattlesnake bite was a natural occurrence in Southern California and was therefore not outside the realm of believability. A coral snakebite in Bay City was different.

   Dobey wanted his detectives to go under and investigate the group. They decided that Hutch would play a wealthy worshiper with a terminal illness. He and Starsky could work out the details on that. Starsky was to be a photographer/news writer for a local, free press type newspaper called The Pulse. The paper had weekly editions featuring a central, lengthy article on a single subject. They were known for their hard-hitting coverage of controversial subjects. The Pulse's managing editor's brother had died after joining Haley's church and he was convinced the group was bad. He was happy to help with the investigation.

   "Why does Blondie always get to play the rich guy?" Starsky teased.

   Hutch responded, "You want to pretend to be a guy with some terminal illness who's seeking redemption from the Almighty?"

   Starsky put one hand up to his forehead and slumped back in his chair dramatically. "You know I played Camille in high school."

   Dobey ordered, "Knock it off, you two. This is a serious situation. These people may be dangerous and I don't want you underestimating them. Starsky, you keep an eye on your partner."

   "Always do, Cap."

   "All right then. You two go on and make your plans while you wait for Hill and Cavanaugh. I've already set up your cover with the newspaper, Starsky. You're supposed to be on assignment with these people every day until further notice. They want the publicity and they're looking forward to meeting with you tonight. Hutch, you go to the revival tonight. They start at seven."

   Nodding their understanding, the detectives rose to leave the room. Dobey added, "Hutch, let me know what your plan is for your illness. The department doctor is going to arrange everything through one of the docs at Receiving so your cover will hold if they investigate. I've already gotten the wheels in motion to establish your bank accounts and such."

   "Right," Hutch said as they walked out to the squad room.

   The detectives headed down to the station cafeteria to finally get some coffee and discuss the assignment while they waited for Hill and Cavanaugh. They decided that Hutch should pretend to have an inoperable brain tumor. A friend of theirs in the department had died from a brain tumor and they knew what types of symptoms Hutch should display. The biggest advantage would be he wouldn't have to a pretend too hard to be sick. Their friend had appeared to be basically normal up until the final few weeks of his illness. A trip upstairs to the department doctor would provide them with the extra information they needed, and appropriate medical records and cover for that part of their operation.

   Starsky was excited about the prospect of going undercover as a photojournalist and news writer. Captain Dobey had a tendency to try and squelch his creative side, demanding reports that were written in "plain English." Even if no one ever got to read it, he would have fun writing it. Hutch would read it.

   Hill and Cavanaugh walked into the cafeteria and Hutch waved them over to their table.

   "Sean, Jack, what did you get on the homicide?" Hutch asked as they approached.

   Cavanaugh offered as he sat down, "Man, that was spooky. I thought they only kept that kind of snake in the zoo. You ever see a coral snake outside the zoo?"

   Hill shook his head at his chatterbox partner. "Don't mind him. He had a coupla jelly donuts this morning on the way to the scene and he's been wired for sound ever since."

   "Thanks a lot, partner," Cavanaugh retorted as he turned red and all four men laughed.

   Hill continued for his now quiet partner. "Coroner says she died around ten last night. Based on the interviews we did, we think she was asked to give an extra large donation to the church. She refused, saying the preacher hadn't healed her husband. The man died just a few days ago. One of the witnesses said she was threatening to expose the preacher. Said a lot of people believed in him and she was gonna blow the lid off the operation. Then she left."

   Starsky whistled. "Anybody see her after that?"

   "Nope. Found her dead in her car this morning. Nobody saw a thing, naturally."

   "Not enough to go on for an arrest," Hutch said.

   "No. We'll type up the report and get it to you by this afternoon," Cavanaugh said.

   "Thanks," Starsky said. "We're on our way up to see the doc. Hutch here is about to get an inoperable brain tumor."

   The other partners looked at each other. "You mean like Watson?" Cavanaugh asked. The man who died was a fellow officer. They all knew and liked him.

   Hutch looked down at his coffee cup and said, "Yeah. We all saw what happened to Joe. Thought it might help."

   They were all sober for a minute – each man silently sending out a thought to their friend. Joe Watson was only 38 when he died. The four detectives had been through the academy with him. Maybe this was a way they could honor his memory.

   "Right. Uh, come on, Hutch. We gotta go see the doc," Starsky said, ready to break the somber mood. He stood up and Hutch followed him upstairs to the doctor's office.

   Dr. Malling greeted the two detectives, "Captain Dobey explained your assignment to me."

   "Yeah, you remember Joe Watson? Starsky and I were thinking maybe his diagnosis would be a good one for my undercover. What do you think?"

   Malling nodded. "That sounds good. I'll get your 'medical records' together and send then over to Dr. Brock at Receiving. He was Joe's doctor."

   Starsky looked a little uncomfortable. "Doc, we know what Joe went through. What should Hutch -- well, how should he act? These people may be dangerous. I'm going to be there with him, but I don't want him taking any chances."

   "Don't worry, Sergeant. We'll have him covered. Detective Hutchinson, you can tell anyone who asks that you have an inoperable brain tumor. Your symptoms might include severe headaches, vision changes, confusion, loss of memory, hand tremors, vomiting, seizures, and clumsiness."

   Laughing softly, Starsky quipped, "Well, that last one won't be too much trouble."

   Hutch swatted at him and missed. "Okay, Doc. You know we're going under in that tent show church. One of the things these people seem good at is luring sick, wealthy people into believing they can be healed. Some of them have stopped their treatments and died. If this tumor is inoperable, what can I say I've stopped doing and what would the consequences be?"

   The doctor explained that someone in this condition would possibly be on anticonvulsants. That would be the easiest thing to give up and seizures would be the inevitable result. He might also experience increased tremors and, if the case took a few weeks, he could fake the vision disturbances and fainting spells. Dr. Malling would be available to help them round the clock. He gave the detectives his pager number and told them to call anytime.

   Later in the afternoon, Starsky and Hutch took a break for an early dinner and to rest before they went to their first tent show revival. They agreed Starsky would drive Hutch's car, since his looked too flashy for a newspaper reporter being paid on a shoestring. The department had checked out a Mercedes convertible to Hutch as part of his cover. Hutch's undercover name was to be Ken Halliday and Starsky was going to be David Frank. Halliday was supposed to be a book publisher who had amassed a fortune on the stock market. His diagnosis had been given three months ago and no treatment had worked to slow the progress of the tumor. Tonight, Halliday would begin his journey to seek spiritual peace in his last days, and perhaps a miraculous healing.

   Starsky was deep in his closet gathering his camera equipment when Hutch stepped out of the bathroom and said, "Hey, how do I look?" He had been in there working with a makeup kit for half an hour.

   Starsky poked his head up out of the closet and did a double take. Hutch had used some hair pomade to slick his wispy hair down and dull its sheen a little. He had applied an imperceptible layer of white makeup base so he looked pale. His cheeks looked just a little hollow. He had changed into a too-large beige shirt that made him look too thin and accentuated his pale face.

   "Thanks for the warning, buddy. You look awful." Starsky didn't like it. Hutch really did look sick.

   "Great." Hutch looked pleased with himself as he walked into the living room and looked through the files on their targets again.

   "How you coming there?" he asked Starsky.

   "Terrific. I have everything I need. Dobey got me a press pass and my identification is together. How 'bout you?"

   Hutch had everything he needed, included a large roll of twenties the department had provided for him to donate to the cause. "Everything's good."

   Starsky was unhappy with his partner. While they came to the apartment to grab a quick bite, Hutch had decided against eating. He said if he fasted for a couple of days he wouldn't have to put so much makeup on to look thin. His face always showed it first when he lost weight.

   "Come on, you've gotta eat. Your makeup job looks just fine."

   "Relax. Just consider it a little method acting." Hutch smiled, trying to reassure his worrywart partner.

   Starsky went to the kitchen and returned with a large glass of ice water for Hutch. "All right, but no more than your usual two day fast. Here, drink this. I'm at least gonna make sure you don't get dehydrated on me. No sense making yourself sick over it."

   Hutch nodded gratefully as he accepted the glass. "Thanks. Hey, don't worry, okay?"

   "Sure."

   Continuing to read the files, Hutch said, "You know, these people were under suspicion in Atlanta before they moved their church here. Some of the local church elders practically rode them out of town on a rail. I read an article about them in the Bay City Independent about a month ago. Dobey's wrong about it being a cult. Looks like most of the people who attend services are really seeking a spiritual home."

   Somehow that didn't make Starsky feel any better. He kept thinking of the way the woman who had died of the snakebite had looked in the morgue that afternoon. Not being able to stick to Hutch continually had him worried.

   "Hutch, you ever been to one of these tent show things?"

   Hutch nodded and returned the file folder he was reviewing to the table in front of him. "Once, a long time ago. We had this housekeeper for a while who was into that sort of thing. One time when a group came through Duluth, she took Karen and me to a service. Boy, was my dad hacked." He laughed at the memory. Richard Hutchinson had fired the poor woman on the spot. He was mortified that the Hutchinson children had been seen at a tent show revival. "Have you ever been to one, Starsk?"

   "Nope. So what's it like? We went to a Lutheran church when we went to your nephew's christening. Anything like a Lutheran church?"

   Hutch laughed at that. "Oh, no. These tent show churches are Pentecostal. You know, people speaking in tongues, lots of singing, very emotional. Lutherans are pretty quiet."

   "What's that supposed to mean – Pentecostal?" Starsky asked apprehensively.

   "Kind of hard to explain, Gordo. Since we're going there tonight, I think you'd better just see for yourself."

   Starsky looked unsure about the operation, but he was going along with it. Hutch seemed to know what he was doing. He'd been to a revival before so he had some idea about what to expect. Starsky thought that cops and journalists had at least one common characteristic – that of being willing, as his Aunt Rosie would say, to rush in where angels fear to tread. He chuckled to himself at the prospect. That was an accurate depiction of David Starsky's personality so it shouldn't be too difficult to extend it to David Frank, News Writer.

   They decided that Hutch would be the first one to show at the meeting tent. He parked the Mercedes and walked through the tent entrance at around six-thirty. Starsky planned to show up half an hour after show time at seven-thirty. He was hoping the worship service would be cooking by the time he arrived. They didn't want any connection made between them and Hutch should be deeply involved with the service by then.

   By the time Starsky arrived, his wish had come true. The worshipers were on their feet responding to the preacher. After a hostess greeted him at the entrance, he was invited to wander freely around the tent taking pictures and notes during the worship service. As he circled the tent, he looked for his partner – taking pictures of the participants to disguise his search. He spotted Hutch near the front, participating fully.

   "We are bonded as brethren in the service of the Lord God Almighty!" Pastor Haley yelled.

   "Amen, Brother Haley!" the crowd responded en masse.

   "We do not hark to extra-biblical rules, do we Brothers and Sisters?"

   "No, Brother."

   "Our way is GOD'S way!"

   "Amen!"

   Starsky walked down a side aisle, in awe of the spectacle before him. The worshipers stood, their arms in the air swaying left to right in unison as Haley paraded before them on the raised stage. He rattled off verses from the New Testament. Included in his sermon were passages from the Bible, which he interpreted for the crowd so they could let go of their natural, thinking mind. They should concentrate on their spiritual mind.

   The service went on in this manner for another thirty minutes. Some people fell on the floor and spoke in tongues. Many wept and loudly quoted from scripture, eyes closed, hands in the air. Starsky had never seen anything like it. He was both fascinated and a little frightened by it. He had tuned out Haley, but his attention was drawn to the stage when Haley began to call for worshipers to come forward to feel the power of God.

   "Our way is Christ's way!"

   "Yes, Brother!!"

   "We are soldiers. Soldiers of Christ!"

   The choir on one side of the church started to sing "Onward Christian Soldiers." He had lost track of his partner. Then, he saw a line of people responding to the preacher's call to those who wanted to be healed, and Hutch was moving toward that line.

   What happened next was something that would be etched in Starsky's memory for all time. He watched in continued fascination as the preacher held an almost hypnotic sway over the crowd. Starsky had seen his share of hypnotists at magic shows and exhibitions. This man was a master. The hour of swaying and repetitive chorus singing, coupled with the time spent hands in the air, had a mesmerizing effect on people. Starsky recognized several of the techniques of an expert hypnotist.

   The people moved to the stage where they stood in a line. One by one, the preacher approached them, asking if they wanted to be healed in the spirit. When he touched them, they fell straight backward into the arms of someone who stood behind them as a catcher. Every one of them did it.

   Starsky's fascination switched to nervousness and concern as the minister approached his partner. Hutch looked deeply into his character and Starsky had no doubt of what would happen. Haley stopped a few extra moments when he came to Hutch. Maybe it was the draw of Hutch's electric blue eyes, or the extra-pale look he had generated out of a makeup kit. For whatever reason, Haley paid him extra attention. Starsky got into position and took picture after picture as it happened. He could hear what was said through the speakers all over the tent.

   Haley said, "Are you here to receive the Holy Spirit, Brother?"

   Hutch replied, "Yes."

   "Are you in NEED of the healing power of the Holy Spirit, my son?"

   Hutch replied, "Yes. I need to heal."

   Starsky found himself unconsciously putting himself into a tense, hostile, protective stance. He felt the power of threat coming from this man and it was all directed toward Hutch. Starsky didn't like it one bit and when the man reached for Hutch, Starsky had to restrain himself from rushing through the crowd to pull him away from his partner.

   Haley touched Hutch on the forehead and he instantly fell straight backward. Starsky jumped and took a step in Hutch's direction, watching in horror as the catcher led his inert form down to the floor. Hutch wasn't moving and Haley had already passed to the next person. Starsky's heart was beating wildly as he took another step. That's when he felt a touch at his elbow. Spinning around, Starsky looked down into the face of Haley's sister, Esther. She smiled at him and said, "You've never been to a worship service like this have you, Mr. Frank?"

   Starsky looked back over his shoulder to where Hutch lay, still unmoving. He swallowed his fear, telling himself Hutch was just playing along and he mustered the gumption to answer her, "No, ma'am."

   "I'm Esther Haley. We're so glad you could come and do your story on our ministry."

   Starsky nodded, knowing he was sweating furiously and not hiding his distress well. "Yes, ma'am. You can call me Dave. You know, our readers will be interested in what's happening here."

   When Starsky turned to look Hutch's way again, Esther grabbed his chin and pulled his head around to face her again. "Don't worry about them, Mr. Frank, uh, Dave. They've been Slain in the Spirit."

   The word "slain" did nothing for Starsky's nerves. He grabbed her by the arms and said, "What did you say?"

   "Relax, Dave. They'll be fine. Please, walk with me and I'll explain."

   Reluctantly, Starsky moved away with her as she requested. He looked back toward his partner every chance he got while they talked. He was not sure how long this was supposed to go on, but Hutch looked unconscious to him and Starsky wasn't sure how long he would be able to keep himself together before he went to him.

   She led him away to a quieter part of the tent, away from the singing and praying going on by the platform. She waved him to an empty chair and sat down. Starsky remembered to produce a notebook and pen to take notes for his "story."

   Esther smiled at him. "There's nothing to be afraid of, honestly. May I ask what your religious background is?"

   "I'm Jewish."

   She nodded and her smile widened. "Then this is very different for you, isn't it?"

   "Yeah."

   She turned her head to look back toward the platform, and Starsky followed suit. He couldn't see Hutch for all the people between them, so he assumed he was still lying on the floor, like so many of the others.

   "When someone is touched by the Lord," she said, still watching the front of the tent, "they often go into a kind of swoon, like those people did. It's a wonderful, peaceful experience, Dave, really it is. You are unaware of what's going on around you, because you are in direct contact -- two-way contact -- with the Lord God. When they come around, they will stand up and continue to worship, quite unharmed. I promise you."

   "How long are they like that?" Starsky craned his neck, still trying to see Hutch and fighting his instinct to run to him.

   She gave a shrug. "It depends on the person. Sometimes a few minutes, sometimes as long as half an hour." She patted his hand. "I know how strange it must look to you. After the service, perhaps you could interview some of the believers and let them describe it to you themselves. That might set your mind at ease."

   "I'd like that," Starsky said. "May I ask how you got involved in the ministry?"

   "My brother -- he's the pastor -- and I were raised in the faith," she said. "Our grandfather was an evangelist. He pastored a church in Tennessee before he set out on the road to take the Gospel straight to unbelievers in the South. When he died, my brother took over. By then, he'd attended seminary in Georgia and we started our work there."

   "Why travel?" Starsky asked. "Why not just start a church and stay in one place?"

   "This is what the Lord has called us to do," she said, adding what Starsky suspected was a quotation, "It was he who gave some to be apostles, some to be prophets, some to be evangelists, and some to be pastors and teachers."

   "How do you know what the Lord has called you to do?" Starsky asked, with a little bit of difficulty. In the Jewish tradition, the name of God was considered too sacred to be uttered lightly. He was uncomfortable with this whole conversation anyway, and the easy and too-familiar way these people spoke of God bothered him.

   "You can tell," she said. "We prayed and waited until we were sure. The Lord has His ways of letting His wishes be known to His servants."

   "But how?"

   "It's a little hard to explain," she said. "The knowledge just grows in your heart and mind until the conviction is impossible to ignore."

   Starsky glanced back toward the front and was relieved to see a tall blond head moving back to the rows of folding chairs. Their eyes met for just a moment; any longer, and it would have possibly given them away. Hutch sat down, smoothed his hair and crossed his legs.

   The service had come to a quiet point now, and Starsky turned his whole body to watch. He lifted the camera and took photos of some of the people who were getting up off the floor. None of them looked damaged, he had to admit. Some seemed a bit dazed; many had tears in their eyes. Ushers were beginning to pass the plastic buckets around in which the people were expected to drop their donations, while the band played and sang softly.

   "Where does the money go?" Starsky asked without turning back to Esther.

   "To support the ministry," she said.

   "I know. I mean, what, exactly, do you spend it on?"

   "Maintenance for the tent and the musical equipment, gas for the bus, food and clothing and lodging for the ministry team," she said. "We send a tithe to overseas missions -- "

   "A what?" Starsky did turn this time.

   "A tithe. Ten percent. As the Lord commands, even in the Jewish tradition."

   There was a slight reprimand in her voice, as if she expected him to know that. It did ring a bell, dimly, in the back of his mind. He nodded as if he understood more than he did. And he watched, dazed, as the people dropped more cash into the buckets than he had seen since a huge drug bust on the east side a year ago. He couldn't even guess the amount that was collected – thousands of dollars, probably.

   After the collection, people started to drift away. Some stayed to visit with each other or the pastor and his helpers. Hutch stayed in his seat, watching and listening to the many conversations, but not joining them.

   "Would you like to talk to some of the people?" Esther asked.

   "Yeah, please."

   She led him back to the front and tapped a long-haired young man on the shoulder. "Eugene, would you allow this man to interview you? He's writing a newspaper story about the ministry."

   "Sure, Sister," Eugene said, giving a bright smile and a firm handshake to Starsky.

   Starsky had never interviewed anyone who wasn't a suspect, a witness or a victim before. He hoped he could fake it. Which category should this slender young man fall into?

   "Uh, could you tell me what brought you to the service?"

   Eugene sat down and patted the chair next to him and Starsky accepted.

   While Starsky was engaged in interviewing "believers," Hutch had been sitting in his chair observing the people around him, more than a little disturbed by the experience he'd had. When Brother Haley had touched him, he'd actually felt something. He'd been standing there, watching as others fell back into the waiting arms of the catchers, fully prepared to fake a fall of his own at the proper time. He hadn't expected to actually fall.

   But he had.

   His knees had felt quivery, his stomach had churned, and the next thing he knew, he was on the floor, unable to move and not caring.

   It was frightening.

   He didn't know how long he'd lain there like that, but when he opened his eyes, he'd stood up with no trouble. He felt a little light-headed, as if he'd stood up too quickly, but that soon passed. Since then, he'd been sitting here in this chair, worrying about his own reaction. He was still worrying about it when Brother Haley sat down next to him.

   "Evening, son," Haley said, putting a fatherly hand on his shoulder. "Your first time here?"

   Hutch nodded.

   "What brings you to us?"

   "I'm dying," Hutch said, and the leftover reaction from the evening's experience helped him put the right note of bleak acceptance into his voice. "There's nothing the doctors can do now. I'm trying to make peace with God before I go."

   "What's the problem?"

   Hutch dropped his eyes and wet his lips. "Brain tumor. Inoperable. It's too deep. The operation itself would kill me. They say -- " he paused and shook his head. "They say I'll be fairly normal until the last few weeks. I've got about six months, give or take, until then."

   "Don't you believe in miracles, son?" Haley asked very gently.

   Hutch shrugged. "I don't know what I believe."

   "May I pray with you?" Hutch nodded, and Haley laid his hands on Hutch's hair and closed his eyes. "Almighty Lord, this young man needs Your healing touch in both body and soul. Reach out to him, Jesus, let him feel Your nearness, Your love, Your mercy, oh, God, our Father."

   Starsky had finished with Eugene and had approached an older woman who was drying her tears and talking animatedly with Esther. He glanced toward Hutch and was alarmed to see Haley with his hands on the blond hair. Hutch was staring fixedly at the man, unblinking, so still he might have been a statue. But somehow his partner felt his eyes on him and shifted his gaze to meet Starsky's, just for a moment, telegraphing, "it's okay." Starsky gave an almost imperceptible nod and went to his next interview subject.

   They had arranged to meet at Starsky's apartment afterward to exchange their impressions. Starsky arrived first, as worn out as if he'd run a marathon. It was a good 45 minutes before Hutch showed up. He looked worse than Starsky felt, pale and haggard, and it wasn't just the makeup. He dropped onto the couch and threw his head back. Unasked, Starsky fetched him a beer and put it in his hand.

   "Wanna talk about it yet?"

   Hutch took a long swallow of the beer and rubbed at his face. "That was weird."

   Something in his voice made Starsky sit down beside him and study him. "Of course, it was weird. We knew that going in."

   Hutch shook his head. "I didn't expect -- " he paused and met Starsky's eyes, then looked away. "Starsk, I wasn't faking."

   Starsky was stunned into utter silence. He'd never considered that possibility. "What -- what happened?" he asked after several moments.

   "I was standing there," Hutch said, still not looking at him, "watching all those other people go over like dominoes, and wondering how long I should wait after Haley got to me before I went over." He took another swallow of beer, almost desperately. "Then when he got to me, he touched me and... I just fell, Starsky. I don't even remember going down. Next thing I knew, I was coming to, or coming out of it, I guess. I never lost consciousness. I could hear the music and the other people but I just didn't... care."

   "What d'you mean, you didn't care?" Starsky was seriously alarmed now. "I mean, I didn't want to move!" Hutch turned back to him and his eyes were wide. "I just laid there and I didn't want to move and I couldn't move and that was the way I wanted it!" His voice was trembling and his hands shook so that he almost dropped his beer. Starsky rescued it and set it on the table. Hutch let him, and visibly tried to get himself back under control.

   "Some kind of hypnotism?" Starsky suggested.

   Hutch shook his head. "No. I don't think so. Hell, I don't know. It just -- it just -- it didn't hurt. It didn't upset me. In fact, I felt peaceful and happy and -- " His voice faded away and he reached for the beer again, tipping the can back and swallowing over and over until it was mostly gone.

   "Maybe the guy's for real?"

   Hutch shrugged. "Wish I hadn't given up smoking," he mumbled, almost too softly for Starsky to hear.

   Hutch had quit smoking years before, when they were in the Academy. Even now, he occasionally smoked a cigar as part of an undercover character. But at times of great stress, he still wanted a cigarette. That worried Starsky more than anything. He reached out to touch his partner, but Hutch flinched away.

   "Talk to me," Starsky ordered, capturing Hutch's forearm even though the blond tried to keep him from doing it. "Tell me what's goin' on. Do we need to get out now? Before anything else weird happens?"

   "No." Hutch finished his beer and set the empty can on the table. "No, buddy,

   I'll be okay. I'm just a little -- " He shrugged again. "It was heavy," he finished lamely. He took a deep breath. "What'd you find out?"

   Starsky was reluctant to let Hutch off that easily. The dazed look in his partner's eyes and the way the normally articulate and self-possessed Hutch couldn't seem to find words to describe his experience terrified him. At the same time, he didn't want to push Hutch in this fragile state. So he related what he and Esther had talked about, and read him some highlights from his interviews with others. Most of them had come to the tent show expecting and desiring the very experience that had shaken Hutch. They spoke of "glory coming down" and "feeling a healing touch" and "talking with the Lord."

   As Starsky talked, Hutch gradually relaxed and the frightened look in his eyes faded. When Starsky finished, Hutch was almost -- not quite, but almost -- back to normal.

   "So the folks that come to these things really are true believers, as we suspected," Hutch said.

   "Looks that way. Or they're damn good actors," Starsky said.

   "We didn't see anything tonight that would give us any reason to think this guy's not on the up and up," Hutch said. "We have to go back."

   Starsky nodded. "'Fraid so. Are you sure you can -- "

   "Yes," Hutch interrupted. "I have to. We have to."

   "I guess so. I'm keepin' my eye on you though, buddy. If you need to get out, just give me a nod and I'll come for you. I'll think of something."

   "Thanks."

   They sat and made their plans for the next day. Every night's service had some common elements. On certain nights of the week though, the focus was on healing. The next night was to be one of those services. The healing sessions would give the detectives the chance to get close to some of the people with terminal illnesses. Starsky wanted to interview some of them and, if possible, to speak with their family members. They decided that was a way he could sidle up to Hutch without suspicion. First, he would make contact with some of the others in search of a miracle and then he would single out Ken Halliday as someone to feature in his article.

   In the morning, Starsky would speak with the managing editor of The Pulse at his office. Captain Dobey had made an appointment for him to introduce himself and get a little more information on their publication.

   Hutch had let it slip during his conversation with Haley that he was wealthy and he guessed if all his money couldn't buy him a longer life, he'd better turn to God – if not for a miracle, for peace. Shortly after that comment, Hutch had been invited to have an early lunch with Haley the next day. That would be an end to his fast, which he was sure would make Starsky happy. He would head down to the tent around eleven. Starsky would show up around then also, to take pictures of the crew setting up for the evening's services. Esther Haley had already given him permission to stop by anytime to get whatever pictures he wanted for the article. That way, he could keep an eye on his partner.

   "I'm beat. Better head home," Hutch said as he stood from the couch an hour later.

   "Why don't you just crash here tonight? You look too tired to drive." Starsky thought Hutch looked much better, but he wasn't quite ready to let him out of his sight yet. Naturally, Hutch knew what he was doing.

   "I promise, I'm just fine now. Don't worry so much, huh? This is probably going to be a long case and we're just getting into it."

   "Yeah, I know. That's what's got me so worried. You sure you don't want to pull out now?"

   "I'm sure. If Dobey's right, these people are killers. We need to stop them." Hutch looked like he was leaving something unsaid and Starsky thought he knew what it was.

   "You thinking maybe he's wrong because of what happened to you tonight?"

   That was it. "Yeah. I just don't know. How could that happen if the guy's not on the up-and-up?"

   Starsky put a hand on his shoulder and said, "Hutch, just because you really fell, that doesn't mean he isn't bad. I watched the guy closely. I've seen a lot of hypnotists and this guy is good. You were in a lot of company tonight."

   "You're right. I'm trying to keep my mind open about it. I'm just having a hard time believing this guy could really be using God's name like that. I know guys like Marcus and how they operate. This guy's different though. He's not pretending to be God, Jesus, or the Messiah. He's saying he talks to God and that he's trying to spread His word. I... well... I guess I just have to wait and see."

   "Hold onto that. I have a feeling these people are a lot more dangerous than they look. You be careful." Starsky held his gaze for a moment.

   Hutch nodded and said, "I've got you watching my back, so I'm okay."

   They said goodnight and Hutch drove the Mercedes to Venice Place. He lay awake in the dark for a long time thinking about the evening's events. Tomorrow, he decided he'd better display some symptoms to add credence to his claim that he was ill. Unable to sleep, at about three in the morning he went for a walk. When he came home an hour later, he was tired enough to sleep, and also in possession of the first pack of cigarettes he had purchased in a decade.

   Starsky arrived at The Pulse the next morning at nine. Gary Detchel was waiting in his office. Detchel stood to greet the dark haired detective.

   "You must be Detective Starsky, otherwise known as David Frank, boy reporter. Your captain said you'd be by this morning." The man was about forty years old. He had a firm handshake and a warm smile. His dark brown eyes flashed with a humorous twinkle. Detchel had been seated behind a large, two-sided desk covered with papers and photographs. He was looking at a black and white picture through a dot glass when Starsky walked into the office.

   "That's me, boy wonder." Starsky accepted a seat at the other side of the enormous desk.

   "Great desk. Why's it got two sides?" He was curious about the piece of ornate furniture. Something about it looked like it would be more at home in a fancy attorney's office than a liberal newspaper office.

   "This is a partner's desk. My brother Matt and I started this paper together when we were in college. When we graduated, our dad gave us the desk. It's an antique."

   "I've never seen anything like it. Beautiful."

   "Yeah. Matt liked it a lot." Suddenly, the smile faded to a sad, reflective frown. Gary swallowed and added, "He died of leukemia last month."

   "I'm sorry. You okay?"

   "Yeah, I'm all right. I don't know how much your captain told you about me and my interest in this case."

   "He didn't say much about you except that you were letting me run my cover out of here and that your brother had died while going to Haley's church." Starsky was curious to hear this man had a personal interest in the case.

   "Let me explain. Matt was diagnosed a while ago. He received chemotherapy and the disease went into remission. Later, when it came back, the doctors told him he needed a bone marrow transplant. I couldn't be his donor, you see Matt and I were both adopted and I wasn't a match."

   "That musta been a bummer."

   "Yeah, tell me about it. We looked for a donor for a while, and then Matt ran into the Haleys. He was down at the old sports arena doing a piece about abandoned buildings and what happens to them, when he saw Haley and his gang putting up stakes. He went to a service and got hooked into the whole ministry." Suddenly, Gary realized something and changed directions. "I'm sorry, can I get you a cup of coffee?"

   "That'd be great, thanks. Double cream, three sugars. My partner isn't here to yell at me, so I guess I'll just have it like I want." They both laughed about that.

   "Sounds like Matt. He was sort of a health nut. That's what blows me away. Matt was always so careful about his health and his habits. Me, I eat anything, smoke too much, you know. Then he's the one who up and dies. Dammit. You know, he wasn't just my brother. He was my best friend. You got a best friend?"    

   Starsky nodded. "Yeah, my partner. He's a health nut too." Suddenly, the parallel was making Starsky uncomfortable. He had to remind himself that Hutch wasn't really sick. Just faking it for the case. Hutch was fine.

   Detchel nodded and continued, "Matt was a fighter. He was prepared to do the transplant, until he hooked up with Haley. Those people convinced him he had been healed. They said the transplant would be an affront to God and that he would go to hell if he had it. When we found a donor, Matt refused to do it. He died in my arms, right in this office."

   "I'm sorry. I know how I'd feel." Starsky imagined himself in Detchel's position, losing Hutch like that, and it gave him a chill.

   "Thanks. That's when I decided to call the police. I know they didn't actually murder Matt, but it doesn't feel much different to me. They got him to give them a lot of money and they convinced him they had cured his disease. I just have my suspicions about these people. I called and spoke with your captain a few weeks ago. Then, when that lady died the other day, he called me and asked if I'd provide your cover."

   Starsky was curious about the setup though. "Why would Haley agree to let me come there. I'm assuming he knows Matt worked for The Pulse."

   "He knows. I appealed to his conceit. Told him my brother was a true believer and I wanted to do a piece on his ministry so everyone could read about him. He bought it. They were only too happy to have you come. They really don't know how I feel about the whole thing."

   "Thanks. Would you mind showing me around the place a little, for background?"

   "Not at all. I have just two things I want you to do for me in return for providing your cover."

   "What?" Starsky knew what one of them was, but couldn't imagine what the other could be.

   "First, if these people are bad, I want you to nail them for me. Second, I want you to really write me a series of articles on them. Can you do that?"

   Starsky was shocked by the request, but also excited by it. "Yeah, I can do that. What made you think I could?"

   "Dunno. Just a feeling. Thanks." They shook hands on it and then Detchel gave him a tour of the small operation. They parted company with an "I'll be in touch," from Starsky just in time for him to go down to the ministry to look out for Hutch.

   When Starsky arrived at the tent, he noticed Hutch down near the stage, sharing a picnic style lunch with Haley. Starsky was greeted by one of the minister's assistants who gave him permission to wander about freely, taking pictures while the crew struck part of the stage and assembled a new set for the healing service. Starsky positioned himself where he could surreptitiously capture Hutch in his telephoto lens while he spoke with Haley. He was concerned when several times Hutch grabbed his head and winced in pain. He's just faking it, Starsky. Calm down. After Hutch's revelation that he really wasn't faking it when he keeled over the night before, Starsky was having a hard time accepting that anything his partner did was part of his Ken Halliday character.

   Hutch had no way of knowing that Haley had made special preparations for this "meal." The man had slipped something into Hutch's food that would make him feel dizzy and thirsty. Haley had studied plants and herbs in his hometown long before he hit the road with his ministry. He was an expert at using them to achieve his desired result undetected. Haley was hoping to get a chance to see Hutch's home, to ascertain if he had any real money to offer the ministry.

   Starsky was up on the stage interviewing a man from the lighting crew when he saw Hutch turn pale and put a hand out to steady himself as he swayed a little in his seat and dropped his food. Starsky steeled himself and stood his ground, trying his best not to let on he even knew what was happening. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Haley give Hutch a glass of water, which he accepted and downed without taking a breath. Haley had put the antidote in his own water before they started eating. Then, he drank none of it so he'd have it ready to give to Hutch.

   "I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me today," Hutch said as Haley helped him to lie down across several folding chairs.

   "Maybe you'd better let me take you home, Ken." Haley was proud of himself. The trick had worked like a charm.

   Even feeling a little woozy, Hutch knew he couldn't let the minister take him to Venice Place. He scrambled to think of some other place they could go.

   "No, I'm feeling better now. I have an appointment with Dr. Brock this afternoon. He can check me out then."

   Haley nodded. "Are you sure? I can drive you over there."

   "No, I'm all right. Maybe I'd better go though. I'll be back tonight for the healing service. Help me up, please." Hutch put a hand up and the minister helped him to sit, steadying him so he wouldn't faint. He knew the antidote was fast acting, but he had no intention of letting his mark leave without a promise to allow him to visit his home.

   "Why don't you plan to take a cab over here tonight, Ken. You may be feeling a little weak after the service. I could drive you home afterward."

   "I'll think about it. Thanks for the lunch, and I'm sorry to be so much trouble."

   Starsky watched as Hutch stood, shook the minister's hand and left. He wanted to follow him immediately, but didn't dare. Instead, he stayed another thirty minutes, interviewing crewmembers and taking more pictures. When he thought it was safe, he left and drove straight to Venice Place.

   Hutch was on the phone and smoking a cigarette when Starsky let himself in through the open front door.

   "Yeah, Cap. Okay. I'll ask him." Hutch paused a moment. "No, I'm fine. Yeah."

   Starsky snatched the pack of cigarettes off the table and shoved them into his jacket pocket.

   "Hey!" Hutch said, "Give those back."

   "What the hell's going on, Hutch? You haven't smoked in ten years."

   "Yeah, I know. This guy's just got me a little rattled, I guess. Sorry." He put the cigarette out and turned to face his partner.

   "Hutch, are you all right? Either your acting is improving or you were really sick back there. I was pretty freaked." He put a hand on Hutch's forehead to see if he had a fever.

   "I'd love to accept credit for it. The head pain was a fake out, but the dizziness, that was the real thing. I think he slipped something into my food. Guess I shoulda kept fasting."

   "WHAT!" Starsky yelled. "You think that creep drugged you?"

   "Calm down, Starsk. He was angling to get me to let him drive me home. Wants to do that tonight. I think he's looking to see if I'm really as rich as I said I was."

   "Dammit, Hutch. I don't like it. I'm calling Dobey and we're pulling out now."

   "No, you're not. I've already talked to him. He's got me set up at the safe house on the North Side. That's a suitably ritzy area. He's going to take care of all the paperwork."

   Starsky started to protest again, but Hutch interrupted him, "Look, I'm sure whatever he slipped me wasn't dangerous, Starsk. I got over it right away."

   Starsky was up and pacing around the room. "That's not the point. The man drugged you!"

   "I know. That just makes me more determined to get to the bottom of this scam. Oh, Dobey said to ask you if the guy from The Pulse told you everything."

   Starsky stopped pacing. "Yeah, he did. Seems his brother died of leukemia after glomming onto this Haley and his bunch. He refused to have a bone marrow transplant because those guys convinced him he was healed."

   Hutch shook his head. "Dobey's pretty angry about the whole thing. Says he doesn't like it when these charlatans take people in like this."

   "Well, I don't like it, either. I told you to be careful. Don't eat or drink anything else he gives you."

   Hutch nodded. "I'll try. Hey, don't worry. He won't want to kill me 'til I put him in my will."

   His attempt at a joke left Starsky numb instead of amused. "That's not funny at all, Blintz. These people are dangerous. I'm telling you, if he tries anything else, I'm pulling you out of there."

   "Let's just see where it leads next, okay?"

PART TWO