Health, Wealth, and Murder by Traci Tyne Hilton Read Free Book Online Page B

everywhere, like the lice in Egypt, and Jane couldn’t be happier. Scrubbing every inch of the kitchen could last as long as she wanted it to.
    The voices from the dining room were clear enough that Jane didn’t even need to crouch at the door to eavesdrop.
    “I agree with Christiana,” a young man with a clear, deep voice said. “We’ve already got the schedule planned for our whole stay here.”
    “And we don’t want to let the people down.” This time the speaker was a young woman. “People have been praying for us to come, have been longing for the work of the Spirit.” Her voice was a bit twee, and very sincere sounding.
    Jane rolled her eyes.
    Apparently so did the deep-voiced man. “God doesn’t need us to do his work.”
    “But he longs to use us.” The sincere-voiced girl had a dreamy, grateful tone to her voice that was nice to hear.
    “Enough bickering. We’re scheduled, so we will meet our commitments. We say we believe our life on earth is temporary and our return home to God is what we long for. Now is our chance to show everyone that we mean it. We don’t grieve Josiah.” Here, Christiana choked on her words, like she was suppressing a sob. “We celebrate his homegoing.”
    “It’s natural to grieve the loss of your husband.” This time the speaker was an older-sounding woman, with the raspy voice of a smoker.
    “That’s the world’s way, Evelyn,” Christiana said. “Not our way.”
    Jane dragged her damp rag across the windowsill. None of them were talking like they believed they were scam artists. Was that because only a select few were in on the scamming? Or was it because the team really believed the drugs, special effects, and carefully staged activity was the way God liked to work? Jane paused.
    No church she had ever been a part of explicitly taught that God blessed people with money when they pleased him, and yet, all of the churches she had been a part of had taken financial success—with fundraisers, events, building programs, all of that—as a sign that God was blessing an activity. She took a deep breath. The Malachi Ministries taught the popular prosperity gospel, which made no secret of seeing money as God’s blessing. So, with that logic in mind…
    Jane sat down.
    The Malachi family was filthy rich.
    The house they had rented was a beautiful old thing in an expensive neighborhood. They had a shiny new Cadillac parked out front. Christiana wore really big diamonds on her fingers and ears and around her neck. Jane had seen their travel coach on the Internet in her googling. And she had read that the Malachi family owned a private jet and a couple of really big estates.
    If they truly believed that money was a sign of God’s blessing, of you pleasing him with your labor—and Jane had to admit, while this wasn’t taught overtly at any church she had gone to, it had certainly been accepted over and over again as an unspoken truth—then the Malachi Ministries had abundant “evidence” that God liked how they ran their events.
    Jane’s stomach turned. She gripped her rag in a tight fist.
    If these guys were sincere, and their belief in their work was logical—even considered against her own church experience—then how could she keep considering Josiah a snake-oil salesman who deserved what he got?
    Christiana was talking again, her voice much quieter now, so Jane had to focus to hear her. “We are scheduled and we keep our appearances. I will be preaching, and you all know what I need. If we want to pull this off—and, trust me, we do—we can’t spare any expense. Do you understand?”
    “We’ll make it happen for you, Christiana.” The speaker was another new voice. Young and male. Something about the edge to his voice sent a shiver of fear up Jane’s arms.
     
    Half an hour later, after everyone had cleared out of the dining room, Francine met Jane in the kitchen. “The exterminator is here to spray for the ants. Let’s leave him to it.” Francine