TRAILING THE BLOODY FOOTPRINTS

By Donald Craig Miller

Trailing the Bloody Footprints Danger is Detective Jake Jezreel's business. In the first-century AD, Jake's profession as a private detective makes him a rare breed. Jake lives in the very large shadow of his famous detective father who has provided investigative services for King Herod and, more recently, for the Romans. Making a name for himself as a detective is all-important to Jake to live up to his renowned father's reputation. As Jake sits at his desk, one fateful day, a very politically powerful client comes to hire him. From that moment on, Jake is plunged into the supreme case of his life when he is hired by the pompous, self-righteous Jerusalem Pharisee named Obadiah. The Pharisee wants Jake to dig up as much dirt as possible about a dangerous and mysterious troublemaker named Jesus of Nazareth. After listening to the charges leveled at Jesus by Obadiah, Jake accepts the case. The next day, the adventure of his life begins as Jake accompanies a group of Pharisees, who are traveling to Galilee, to investigate firsthand the disturbing rumors about the mysterious Jesus. From this point on, Jake is swept up into the swirling onslaught by the religious leaders to crush Jesus. The investigation comes to an explosive apex when a major conflict detonates between Jesus and the Pharisees when the Nazarene heals a man on the Sabbath. The enraged Pharisees immediately begin plotting how they can murder Jesus. Jake realizes he has been dragged into this vicious vendetta against Jesus by the powerful religious leaders. And he can feel their icy fingers clutching at him like a pawn of their malicious political machine. How will Jake proceed in his investigation, knowing that Jesus is innocent of any crimes and is the target of the deadly religious/political machine? What can he do to protect this good and godly man he has been hired to destroy? The religious leaders want results from their detective. They are squeezing him hard to deliver the incriminating clues they salivate for. Only a final, unimagined finish can answer these frightful questions.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Mar 1, 2019
• ISBN: 9781644160411

Donald Craig Miller

Donald Craig Miller has been writing Christian papers for local churches and newsletters for more than 50 years. In 2018, he launched his first in a series of Christian books based on a first century detective. His Christian writing is a result of attending a Billy Graham writing school in Minneapolis in 1971. This experience encouraged him to develop his already growing desire to write and redirect his desire toward glorifying the Lord Jesus Christ in his writings. Through the cooperation of pastors, he has been able to write for church newsletters and bulletin inserts for churches in the Dayton, Ohio area, and more recently in the Macon and Warner Robins, Georgia area. Miller also has been a Bible teacher for over 50 years, teaching in Sunday school and church settings, in home Bible studies, and as a lay preacher. He found Christ through The Navigators while stationed at Kadena Air Force Base in Okinawa. Not long after accepting Christ, Miller realized that God had gifted him with the gift of teaching. From then on, his great desire has been to dig scriptural truth from the Bible and pass it on to other Christians. Based on these years of teaching, the life of Christ has especially come alive for Miller. His desire is to translate his passion for the life of Christ into the lives of his readers.

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Trailing the Bloody Footprints

Donald Craig Miller

Copyright © 2018 by Donald Craig Miller

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

Christian Faith Publishing, Inc.

832 Park Avenue

Meadville, PA 16335

www.christianfaithpublishing.com

Printed in the United States of America

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 1

The Client

The sign on his office door read, Jacob Jezreel: Private Investigator. But the wooden placard on the desk in front of him simply said Jake Jezreel. Jake sat at his desk in his leather chair, looking at the placard which he had turned around so he could read the words. He thought to himself about the course in life that he had chosen—being a private detective. It hadn’t been very lucrative. In fact, this line of work barely paid the bills. And if a guy was honest in this business, he made even less money. Jake tried to be honest but it was hard.

Jake turned around in his leather chair to peer out his second story window. His elevated office gave him a commanding view of the beautiful capital city of Jerusalem. He thought about all the hundreds of thousands of people living their lives down below in those shadowed city streets. He knew there were troubled people down there. He knew there were crimes being committed in those streets and homes and businesses. Robberies. Extortions. Arguments. Fights. Even murder. His job was to investigate any of those crimes—if a client would just hire him to do the crime investigation.

Jake also knew that the new Roman governor Pontius Pilate and his tough Roman legions were patrolling the city, ready to pounce on any trouble that might erupt. But sometimes Pilate and his Roman authorities, and even the Jewish religious leaders, needed some undercover help in solving a crime. That’s where Jake came in. But business had been slow lately. Maybe he needed to do a little more advertising—or something.

From the time he was a little kid, Jake knew he wanted to be a private detective. His dad, Jedidiah Jezreel, had been a famous private eye back in the days of King Herod the Great. More recently, Governor Pilate had called upon Jed Jezreel to work on some particularly tough cases. Jed Jezreel could solve a case, even when everybody else had given up. He had pioneered the art of investigative work. He was the original hardboiled detective. It is uncomplicated, my dear son, he would often remind Jake. You know my methods. Data. You must have data. Observe the trifles in a case. The smallest, inconsequential details often will be the most significant.

Always be honest, if you want to be a good detective, Jake’s dad repeatedly told him. Always have integrity. The hoodlums you’ll be tracking down are the evil ones. You must be the honest one. Justice requires that you be honest. And Jake had always tried to live up to this high standard which his famous dad had instilled in him. It wasn’t always easy.

But now, Jed Jezreel was gone. He had died at the hands of a gang of thugs he had been shadowing. But Jake tracked them down and, with great satisfaction, captured the very same thugs who killed his father. It was true justice but of little comfort. The young detective missed the guiding hand of his father immensely—that tough, experienced hand his dad had always provided him.

As Jake gazed from his elevated window, he was overwhelmed by the breathtaking sight of the magnificent holy temple with its golden façade and the expansive temple complex. It towered tall above every other building in Jerusalem. Jake could see the white smoke still drifting heavenward from the morning offerings presented to the Lord by the priests. Occasionally, when the wind was just right, the smoke of the offering would drift his way through his window. Oh, man! What a pleasing fragrance the offering smoke had. It smelled wonderful, just like someone grilling a fine steak!

Another amazing fragrance captured Jake’s nose. It was the delightful aromas floating through his window from Caleb’s Doughnut Shop just down the street near the temple complex. Jake could see Caleb’s blue and white oval shop sign from his window. He had picked up a sack of his favorite warm cinnamon doughnuts on his way to work this morning. Man, they were so good! The aroma drifting through his window from the shop caused him to yearn for a couple more doughnuts, as lunchtime grew closer.

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door to the outer office. His perky secretary, Hannah Haggai, opened the door slightly and poked her head in. She was a petite suntanned girl whose beige tunic rippled as she stepped inside Jake’s office. Her soft brown eyes were playful, as a mischievous smile crossed her pretty face. Deep dimples dented her cheeks as she smiled, wrinkling her nose in delight. Clearly, she was hiding a fun secret. She finished closing the door behind her and leaned against it.

Jake had cocked his head to look at her and turned around in his chair. Yes, angel? What’s ya got?

Customer, Jake, she stated quietly. And I think you’ll want to see him. There may be some money here. He says he is Pharisee Obadiah here on urgent business.

Money. I like that sound. Pharisee Obadiah. I know him. I’ve had dealings with him before. Shoo him in, Hannah. Shoo him in. Let’s see what he’s got.

Hannah smiled even bigger, opened the door, and stepped back into the outer office. She closed the door. Jake could hear Hannah’s muffled voice as she spoke to someone in the outer office, and then the door opened wide. A very portly man dressed in a black flowing robe trimmed in white rumbled through the open doorway. It was Pharisee Obadiah.

Great to see you again, Obadiah, Jake said with a wide grin, as he stood up and extended his slender right hand in the Pharisee’s direction.

Good morning, Mr. Jezreel, stated the Pharisee in a stuffy manner, keeping his plump hands at his sides.

Yes . . . well, Jake stumbled in his speech, as he drew back his hand without the Pharisee offering a return handshake. Won’t you take a chair? Jake pointed to the wooden armchair next to his desk.

Thank you, the portly man acknowledged, as he flopped down into the chair. The chair groaned under the heavy load. In fact, Obadiah filled up the armchair to overflowing. He was a very large, round man. The Pharisee’s white-trimmed black robe totally swallowed up the chair, making it disappear. He was not flabby fat; he was solid fat. His stern face showed spherical copper-red cheeks and protruding lips. His fat double chin draped over his neck in a generously proportioned heap and his entire body looked like a black-robed, giant-steel wrecking ball collapsed in the chair. But his eyes . . . his eyes were the scary part—they were fierce black beads hiding between puffy, squinty eyelid slits.

It’s been a while, hasn’t it, Obadiah, Jake said, as he sank back into his leather chair. He made a quarter turn to face the fat man. As he did, he studied the chubby face of his visitor, trying to get a feel for what the man had in store for him.

Yes, it has been a while. The last case you handled for me was a year ago on that episode of the Jewish merchant who was charging interest on loans to his fellow Jews. It was illegal for him to charge interest and he knew it. You cracked that case very thoroughly.

And I was well paid for my efforts by you and your Pharisee friends.

We convicted that merchant, you know. We made him, as they say, pay through the nose. We pretty much ruined that merchant for life.

How nice. Jake winced at Obadiah’s coldhearted statement.

We must run a tight ship here in Israel. We must keep everybody under control regarding our laws.

That’s as it should be, Jake stated. After all, the Romans—

Obadiah cut him short. Yes, the Romans. We must continue to keep the Romans happy. As long as they are content, they will leave us alone.

And let you Pharisees stay in power and run the nation like you want to. Jake smiled.

That is true. But the Romans know that we, Pharisees, are the only ones who know the Hebrew laws and can clamp down on the people to keep them in line and under control.

Yes, yes. It’s a necessary evil.

"I prefer to call it a necessary function that we, Pharisees, provide to help keep peace and harmony with the Romans," sneered Obadiah, his beady eye slits narrowing even more.

Life is good, huh, Obadiah. And the rich benefits for you Pharisees which the Romans provide are good, too, huh.

Obadiah slapped the desktop with his hand in exasperation. Enough of this drivel! exclaimed Obadiah. I have come to you with a matter of urgent business. Do you want to hear what I have to say or shall I take my business to some other private investigator? The chubby Pharisee acted like he was going to stand up in protest.

No, please, Jake soothed. Continue, kind sir. I’m all ears. Please, tell me what I can do to help out my distinguished client.

That’s better. Obadiah settled back into his seat, as the chair creaked under the shifting load. There is an urgent matter that our nation is facing . . . and the Romans will not like it if it is not nipped in the bud. As he said this, he began tapping forcefully on the desk with the pointed forefinger of his right hand to emphasize his words. The Romans have already caught wind of some of what is happening. That is why we must crush this problem before it can even take root.

My, my, sounds pretty serious.

"It is serious. That is why we have come to you. We believe you are the best man we can find to run down all these rumors and report your findings back to us. You have proven to be a promising detective, following in the footsteps of your illustrious father."

Well, thank you for that fine compliment. I’m honored to know you would even regard my work as being anywhere near my father’s. Jake realized Obadiah was leading him on with his compliments.

You have a proven track record in the cases you have solved, stated the Pharisee. I know personally that you provided me a great service in the past. That is why we have come to you on this urgent matter of national security.

Please, tell me more. Jake rocked back in his chair. I’m always ready and willing to serve my country.

You have probably heard about this rebel, this insurrectionist named Jesus of Nazareth, the fat man sneered. Everywhere he goes, the people treat Him like royalty to the point of even worshiping Him. They are mesmerized, even hypnotized by Him. He is running around, acting like a religious leader and claiming to heal people. Religious leader, my eye! He cannot be a religious leader! As he spoke, Obadiah stood up with great effort and began waving his arms around in frantic gestures. Everybody knows that to be a genuine, legitimate teacher in Israel, a person must have been instructed in one of Israel’s finest Pharisee seminaries. No one can actually call himself a teacher unless he has gone through the proper channels. He must be educated and certified by us, Pharisees, and then he has to become a Pharisee himself.

So, what are the crimes of this Jesus of Nazareth? Jake asked, attempting to clarify what he was being hired to do.

His crimes? His crimes are many! exploded Pharisee Obadiah, throwing his stubby, fat arms straight up into the air in exasperation. He began pacing frantically around the office. Masquerading as a legitimate teacher. Stirring up a rabid following of fanatical believers and disciples. The masses follow Him around like a master and his little puppies.

You can’t arrest Him for being an ad hoc teacher, Jake half smiled.

If you will shut up, Jezreel, and listen. I’ll tell you more! The fat man exploded and stuck his stumpy finger in Jake’s face.

Jake half raised his hands in surrender. Please continue, sir.

There are rumors that this Jesus character has violated our Hebrew laws by talking about His Father in Heaven, as if He Himself is God. That is blasphemy! And there are other reports that He also disrespects the Sabbath by not following all the rules we, Pharisees, have laid down dictating how a person is to observe the Sabbath. The man should be stoned for such crimes!

Then stone Him and be done with Him, Jake stated.

You know we can’t stone Him. We would stone Him if we could. But we have one major problem—the Roman governor Pontius Pilate. Pilate takes a very dim view of us, Jews, carrying out capital punishment. In his view, only he, the governor, can authorize capital punishment. And he could care less about offenses to our Hebrew laws. So Pilate surely will not sanction us killing this Jesus character solely based on our charge that the Nazarene has blasphemed.

It does sound like you do have a problem.

Well, there is one angle our Pharisee strategists have been working on and exploring. And we think we can trap Jesus of Nazareth on a certain charge. In fact, we know we can! And this crime is the very reason I have come to you.

Alright, then. Tell me. The suspense is killing me! Jake rocked forward in his chair, intently listening with a smirk on his square-jawed face.

Obadiah flopped back down into the wooden armchair. The abused chair buckled and moaned under the load. "There are rumors that some of His fanatical believers and disciples want to make Him king over Israel. Now that is treason! That is inciting a riot and rebellion against Rome. Treason is the crime that Rome will certainly react to. If this Jesus character is not stopped, His rabid followers will crown Him as king! He will provoke such rebellion among the people that the Romans will be left with no choice but to take extreme measures to crush the revolt the Nazarene has started.

"So, this is our plan. We want you to go out among the crowds of His followers and listen to their talk. Interview as many as you can. Pretend to be a genuine seeker after this charlatan. Gather as much incriminating evidence as you can, especially concerning them making this impostor their king. If we can make the King of Israel accusation stick, we will have all the indictment we need. We can present these charges of treason against Caesar to Pilate and the Roman authorities. Then the Romans will be obliged to arrest Jesus of Nazareth on the charge of sedition and they will eliminate our problem for us."

You figure you’ve got a foolproof plan for getting rid of this menace from Nazareth, don’t you, Obadiah.

Absolutely. A smiling sneer misshaped the Pharisee’s fat face. My plan . . . eh . . . our plan is surefire. And while you’re at it, Jezreel, listen for any other crimes this pretender may be perpetrating. He is a dangerous character. We believe He is from the devil, and if you can prove that, too, well . . . that will only add fuel to our civil case against Him.

Sounds like I’m going to be on the road a good bit.

Yes, but you will be well paid for your troubles, Obadiah stated, as he patted his money pouch hanging from his belt nestled in his round lap. You just bring the incriminating evidence you collect back to me and we, Pharisees, will manipulate it and spin it to manufacture a capital crime charge we need against this Jesus of Nazareth.

There was an ugly sneer on the Pharisee’s face by now. Jake didn’t much like that look of hatred in Obadiah’s vengeful eye.

Why do you and the Pharisees hate Jesus of Nazareth so much?

Hate? Shouldn’t I hate someone who is such a criminal? Obadiah narrowed his fierce eyes, as he leaned forward in his chair closer to Jake. Shouldn’t you hate Him, too?

Well, I have heard some tales about this Jesus, Jake said quietly. But from what I’ve heard, He preaches about loving folks, not hating them.

All distortions of the real facts. His disciples twist the evidence to soften this Jesus’s true hateful message. Now, what are you going to do? Sit here and make excuses for this fraud or are you going to work with us to bring Jesus of Nazareth down—bring Him to justice?

Those final words of the Pharisee sitting in the chair sounded so vengeful, almost like he was pronouncing a vendetta against the Nazarene.

What is your fee, Mister Jezreel? the fat man asked.

Well, I’d be on the road a lot. I guess I’ll have to do some calculations on expenses—

Obadiah stopped Jake short, as he pulled open his money pouch and dumped out its contents onto the desk. One hundred denarii. I think that will get you started.

Jake’s eyes grew large and round, as he gazed at the mound of glittering silver coins lying before him on his desk. He tried not to choke or let his jaw drop to his chest. He was astounded! One third of a year’s wages! He hadn’t seen that much money all raked together in one place in his whole entire life!

Jake slowly looked up at the smirking face of Obadiah. Wow! That’s a lot of money.

Yes, that’s a lot of money. Now, what are you going to do, detective?

I think I might be persuaded to take this case. Yeah, it looks like I’m gonna be your man.

Good. I thought you’d see it my way. Obadiah chuckled. What will be your first move?

"Well, I guess I’d better drag out my dad’s manual about How to Be A Detective and brush up on my shadowing skills, complete with diagrams on page 14. Then I’ll get out there amongst ’em," Jake mused.

There will be more money where that came from. Obadiah smiled an evil smile. Israel’s temple treasuries are bulging full to overflowing, thanks to the gullible, giving temple worshipers. You bring us back some cold, hard facts and you will be generously rewarded with more cold, hard cash.

Jake stared back down at the mound of money piled on his desk. He grinned a big grin and shook his head, still in disbelief. That’s a lot of money! Well, it looks like I’d better get to work and earn my keep! The sooner the better!

"Let’s start with the word sooner. Obadiah slowly lifted his large, round body out of the wooden chair into a standing position. In fact, I’ll put you to work right away. We, Pharisees, have organized an exploratory expedition to Galilee to see firsthand what subterfuge this impostor is creating. We leave tomorrow morning from the temple. You will be coming with us."

Tomorrow? Jake rocked forward, nearly out of his chair. Tomorrow? That doesn’t give me much time to get packed and ready!

That is not my problem, Obadiah stated in a detached tone. That is your problem. You agreed to being hired. Now it’s up to you to figure out how you’re going to do what we tell you. But no matter what, you will do what you are told to do. Obadiah stood there looking down at Jake with a smug expression. His fat copper-colored cheeks glistened like two ripe oranges pasted to his face. Obadiah pointed at the money on the desk. Earn it.

How do you expect me to work your plan? Jake truly was puzzled. I can’t work like this! I work alone. I don’t work with a group. Especially, I don’t work with a group.

You will this time, mister detective. We want you to come along with us, and then separate yourself from us when we get to Galilee. That way, you can work undercover in your investigation. Then you will report to us daily on what you have discovered.

Jake nodded his head slowly. Okay, if that’s the way it’s gotta be. I’ll meet you tomorrow morning at the temple. I wonder what Jesus’s game is. What can He possibly hope to achieve?

That is why we hired you, Jezreel, Obadiah coolly said. You go out there and find the answers to those important questions. Bring back some hard, cold facts and report back to us.

Then with a snide expression on his chubby face, Obadiah sniped, Now we’ll see if you can truly measure up to the reputation of your famous father, Jedidiah Jezreel.

Chapter 2

Plunging into the Fog of Confusion

Obadiah’s abrupt demands caught Jake flat-footed. The sudden trip plans for the next day left the detective very little time to prepare for his investigation. Quickly, Jake dashed by the Jerusalem Public Library to make a hasty background check on his criminal suspect before he left Jerusalem.

Searching through old copies of The Jerusalem Times newspaper at the public library, Jake came across