Holy Mayhem, page 25
“Then why would he charge it to the church’s account and have me pick up the plane tickets? We don’t have any affiliate church in New York.”
Joy swerved. She hadn’t meant to drive in such a way as to attract attention, but Patience’s news threw her. She couldn’t reveal what she already knew about the man, but somehow she needed to do something. The last thing I want is for Whistle to escape. I sure hope Lil P or Prophet has this same information.
Thinking quickly, Joy told them, “I think we should just simply keep this to ourselves. After all, none of us was supposed to be up there with the pastor, and maybe we can beg Reign to keep her trap shut. Lord, I sure hope Blake and Johnson just wanted to say good-bye to you, Patience, when they called out your name back there.”
“Joy, I don’t think that’s the case.”
“Why not, Patience?” Joy asked slowly. It was taking all her strength to keep her hands on the wheel and not turn around and yank Patience out of the seat.
“Yeah,” Porky chimed in, “why are you so sure?”
“I forgot my Bible and my congregation membership card is in it too.”
“Maybe you left it in the bathroom,” Porky suggested.
“No, you idiot. Patience never went to the bathroom!”
Chapter 39
It was almost seven-thirty that evening and despite the warm weather earlier that Sunday, nighttime carried a chill.
Percy and Prophet had chatted a while about the president slipping in and out of Anderson and learning Reign had the assignment to report on the visit with the governor. They’d also given their reports, received further instructions, and headed for separate reconnaissance meetings. The results from telephone and cellular records showed communication between Chester Lauder and Deacon Whistle. It hadn’t been difficult to confirm the visits made by Whistle to the nursing home. His short stumpy arms were unforgettable to nursing home employees.
Now back inside a secret Anderson investigation base, three other members of their backup team entered, each with a file under his arm. They shook Prophet’s hand and sat down. Each gave a brief oral report. When they earlier compared and added their information to the secret audit First Lady Deborah had ordered, they’d gathered enough evidence to prove they’d started on the right track.
Their reports, complete with phone records, area surveillance tapes, and the nursing home surveillances, showed that Chester Lauder would make a call or somehow get a message to Deacon Whistle. In no time, the deacon would either return the call or visit the nursing home. After each episode, the church’s financial records showed unauthorized activity and a discrepancy between actual monies coming in and those deposited into the church’s bank accounts. A few days later, the deacon always took trips, where Prophet followed him, to New Hampshire or New York; sometimes he went to both, yet he never connected with anyone named Jason. And just as he’d done this day, he’d either fly or drive and then sometimes he’d do both.
The echo from Percy’s youthful gait resounded as he raced down the hallway toward the meeting room. He swung open the door and, without greeting anyone by name, tossed one sheet of paper onto the desk. “Bingo!”
“Whatcha got?” Prophet asked Percy. His eyes had already begun tiring, and he wouldn’t remove his shades. “Sum it up so we can add to it if needed.”
Percy fell onto one of the chairs with a thud. Sounding almost idiotic and certainly unprofessional for such a serious meeting, he blew a long hissing sound and then hummed the O’Jays’ “For the Love of Money.”
“You’ve got to be kidding!”Whatever tiredness had beset Prophet’s eyes disappeared. He grabbed the paper, almost ripping it in half. He hadn’t read past the first few paragraphs before he exclaimed, “Don’t tell me prayers don’t work!”
“You’ve been praying about this?” Percy asked the question with sincerity. He’d never thought about asking God for help unless he thought his own life was in danger. How often had that happened?
“I stay in a secret closet, but not the one y’all probably thinking about,” Prophet said blandly. His eyes continued reading the report.
The other team members swapped confused looks. One of them finally asked, “Either of you two wanna share? What in the hell does the O’Jays have to do with this investigation?”
“Go ahead, Prophet,” Percy said, leaning back with his hands clasped behind his head. “You just read it. Tell ’em.”
“Monee Coffers,” Prophet said as he shook his head. “I was right there. Months ago, the last time that guy came to televise his latest freak show commercial, I was checking out another lead. I’d forgotten he served time with Stephon back in Seattle at one time.”
“So where is he now?”The question sounded urgent, as if the man asking wanted Prophet to stop dawdling.
“He’s dead.” Prophet’s chin bobbed as he continued scanning the sheet. “Yep, he made his final deposit into Hell’s bank a few months after he’d set up that phony television taping.”
“Even while those thirty seconds of mess played a few times on the air, the dude had already been put to rest,” Percy said, then added, “I guess that was the only shot my godmothers had of being seen on TV.” He followed with a laugh.
The others didn’t.
Prophet began laying out more surveillance reports and other comments. He put other business aside and gave an order. “Okay, let’s take a break for a moment, fellas. Get your heads together. Hit those computers. We meet back here in twenty minutes.”
Prophet remained in the room alone. Percy, as well as the others, left to do what he’d ordered.
Thinking about Rev. Monee Coffers brought back thoughts of Patience. It hadn’t been easy, but once he was certain she’d had no part in embezzling money from the church, he’d backed off. He’d done it slowly at first, as if he’d had to wean himself.Yet he’d be lying if it were that simple. It wasn’t.
Early on he’d begun to have feelings for the woman who never would have appealed to him in his youth. She was too skinny, too religious. He’d had his close encounter with religion when his grandmother stood up at a prayer meeting when he was seven years old back in Birmingham, Alabama.
He could still see her. She’d been a tall, pecan-brown woman, sorta thin but, after having ten children, child bearing had taken its toll, too. She had bright eyes; yet now he couldn’t remember their color. With her thick Bible in her hand, she’d announced that night long ago to her congregation, “My grandbaby, Longfellow Jevity, been called to see and tell Gawd’s secrets,” she’d said. “He gwine be a prophet. The Lawd Gawd hisself done showed me. His name won’t ever be Longfellow agin. He’s being called, from dis night on, Prophet, ’cause that’s what he is.”
And from that night on, he was. But that was then, and he’d grown obviously used to the single life since becoming a widower. Then Patience Kash came along.
He shook his head, almost violently, as if doing so would push thoughts of Patience aside. When she’d begun invading his thoughts before, he’d remember she was Percy’s godmother, and it’d helped him to make the right decision. He wouldn’t want to hurt either of them.
“Any more thoughts you’d care to share?” Percy asked. “You’re not looking as happy as you were moments ago.”
Prophet hadn’t heard anyone enter the room. “I’m fine, but something in the ole gut tells me there’s still something missing.”
“Like what, sir?”The question came from one of the two backup team members who’d walked in after Percy but had remained quiet until then.
“Chester was as close to Jason as he is to Whistle, and Jason is family, so why haven’t they communicated? As far as we’ve discovered, there’s no family ties between Chester Lauder and Campbell Whistle, yet there isn’t any record we’ve found where Whistle and Chester were past friends, up until about five years ago. Maybe they just considered each other as family. How’d they get together? Whistle never served time, so there’s not the prison connection he’d have with Chester.”
“Damn,” Percy blew the word out his mouth, like it was smoke from a cigarette, before scratching his head. “I do remember one other cousin that was a preacher at one time that was supposed to be on the up and up. His name’s Stephon. I’ll look into his last known address and see if there’s something we’ve missed. I don’t wanna take a chance on resurrecting that tech-thug Fast Cat’s involvement at this point.”
“More missing family, I suppose?” Prophet said dryly before he added, “There are two close Lauder cousins who continued to shame the good family name over the years. I wanna know where’s that cousin named Jason? I doubt it was a coincidence that I saw Whistle go to that town car with the name Jason Lauder written on a sign. It seems more like he was taunting. There’s a connection somewhere. If there isn’t a connection, why’d he hightail it in another direction?”
“Why would Chester not turn to family to do what they’d always done?”The question came from a backup team member.
“Exactly,” Prophet replied. “When there are too many unanswered questions, it means too many holes for the con to escape through. None of this sits right with me.”
All preparations to gloat had disappeared. Each man asked whatever questions remained in his mind. When they’d laid everything in the open, they decided to go with what they had. They’d keep their eyes and ears open, leaning on whatever street contacts they had.
Prophet shook his head again, as though he’d tried to untangle conflicting thoughts and feelings. The last thing he needed was another brain montage.
“Let’s do this!” Prophet’s thoughts returned to finalizing the plan to take down Chester Lauder and whoever worked with him. “Judge Stepson’s church won’t be destroyed because of some whimsical revenge. I don’t think my gut is wrong about Chester Lauder being the mastermind.”
Shortly after the meeting ended, Percy, Prophet, and their backup team met with several unit heads. Each of them had a lot of respect for Judge Lock Stepson and would push the envelope to see that the old man got justice for himself and his church.
Luckily, it hadn’t taken much to convince the superiors that there was a definite connection between the embezzlement of monies from Rev. Stepson’s church, his previous sentencing of Chester Lauder, and possibly three arson charges to lay at Chester’s feet.
They’d almost ended the meeting when they learned what they’d just discussed was the tip of the iceberg. The announcement came from one of the team members as he pulled a paper off the fax machine. “Just when we think it can’t get any weirder, it does.Your prayers worked, sir.”
“What is it?” Prophet asked.
“It’s confirmation from Quantico, sir. Campbell Whistle is the missing cousin Jason Lauder. He’s been under our noses all the time.”
“I knew it was more than a coincidence!”
“Just a moment, sir; we’ve got a doubleheader here.”
“There’s more?” Prophet asked to see the paper. After reading it slowly he handed it to Percy.
“God gives to those who ask in faith. That third cousin, Rev. Stephon Lauder, is doing pretty well for himself and is still living in New Hampshire.”
“By the way,” one of the other team members told Percy, “Blake and Johnson are waiting to meet with you. They’re the ones on detail with the reverend at that rehabilitation place.”
“Tell them to leave their report.We’ll go over it later. I’m sure it’s details about the reverend’s snoring or something simple. If someone had gotten to the old man, they would’ve called it in earlier.”
“Are you certain you don’t wanna talk to them, Percy?” Prophet asked. “It’s always good to commend your men whether they’re on an easy or dangerous assignment.”
“I will do it later. They know I appreciate them or I’d never have recommended them for this assignment. Right now, there’s bigger fish to fry.”
Since originally it’d been Percy’s assignment that night to approach as well as investigate Coffers, the confirmation of the man’s death made a visit to a cemetery unnecessary. Prophet then decided to order Percy to return home. “Rest up. Get a new perspective.”
“I’ll do it, but you know how I feel about it. We know that investigations are as unpredictable as the storms of life. Well-thought-out plans often change. I don’t have much time for sleep.”
“Then why are you trying to talk with one eye half open? Go home, Percy.That’s an order.”
Percy had driven only a few miles before he began to nod off. He’d wanted to crash on one of the lumpy cots back at the base. Prophet had quickly knocked down that idea. He’d told him, “I need you sleeping horizontally on a real bed for some real rest so you can wake up with some real ideas.”
Percy looked around to pinpoint where he was. Nodding off had its disadvantages, aside from crashing. He saw the sign for Pelzer on Route 85 almost at the same time he happened upon men performing nighttime road work. He’d need to take a detour, one that’d take him past his godmothers’ home. Since he hadn’t heard of anything crazy enough to involve them, he decided he might as well stop there and close his eyes.
The truth was, he couldn’t drive much longer without falling asleep. They were the lesser of two evils. He reached over the seat for his jacket. He’d call them to tell them he was coming, since they had a snit-fit when he hadn’t done so the last time. The jacket wasn’t there. He remembered he’d placed it in the trunk of the Civic when the weather became too warm earlier to wear it.
“I sure hope they’ll just open the door, let me in, cover me with a sheet, and leave me alone,” he muttered.
He hadn’t worried about Reign. He figured she’d been given another assignment since the one for James Memorial wasn’t happening. Hopefully, she’d understand that he needed sleep more than conversation.
Chapter 40
The three cousins had continued sniping all the way back from Anderson to Pelzer.
“I can’t believe it!” Patience began wringing her hands. “Lord Jesus, we was only a couple of blocks away.”
Porky had taken over the driving with his one good hand since his other had begun to swell again. “Please shut up about missing the president’s visit! I’m pissed off, too. I should’ve never asked for the radio to be turned on.”
Twenty minutes ago, after they’d began the trip home after stopping to get a bite to eat, the news came over the radio about the president slipping in and out of Anderson. Joy and Patience nearly flipped their identical pillbox hats. And when they heard the radio announcer cut to Reign, who seemed overjoyed at having gotten a quick interview, they were beyond upset.
“You were with her, Porky; you knew she had that interview with our president. Admit it before I toss your black butt outta this moving car right in front of that nasty sty you call a restaurant.”
“Joy, come off it,” Porky told her. “Reign didn’t tell me nothing about it either. And you won’t even go through the Ptomaine Avenue area with a police escort in the daylight. It’s already turning dark.”
“Well, I’m certain if Reign knew, then Lil P knew, too. Both of them what folks call Washington insiders!” Patience began pounding her seat. Her eyes became large with fury and her contacts popped out and onto the car floor. Unable to see, she nearly slapped Felony across his nose. He whimpered as though she had and trotted away to the rear of the car.
“Look at us! I’m so upset I done got stupid enough to let you drive my car!”
Finally reaching home, they saw two cars parked outside the house. Patience grabbed and adjusted her glasses, craning her neck to get a better look.
“That’s my son’s car.” Porky panicked. The last thing he’d wanted was to be implicated in what went on inside that rehabilitation residence.
Porky wasn’t the only one suddenly feeling remorse. Patience and Joy sat stiff in the front seats of the RAV. They hadn’t yet thought up an excuse for everything that’d happened earlier that afternoon, but then they remembered they were upset with Percy and Reign.
“You know, those two got a lot of explaining to do,” Joy protested.
“I’m reading the same page as you,” Patience replied. She’d already begun opening the SUV’s door. She had her pocketbook in one hand and swung her glasses with the other. She couldn’t see that far but was so mad it didn’t matter.
Once Porky saw his cousins’ attitudes had changed from fear of rebuke to one of retribution, he relaxed. He decided to ride their retribution coattails inside, disappear into that guestroom, and hide out.
Reign and Percy had other issues, and at that moment dealing with Joy, Patience, and Porky wasn’t among them.
Percy had arrived thirty minutes ahead of his godmothers and his father and only a few before Reign.
He’d seen only the kitchen light lit. When he’d checked the garage, the RAV was gone, too. Sister Betty stood on her porch as though waiting for someone and told him she’d seen his godmothers and father leave earlier that afternoon. She didn’t know if they’d gone to a night service because she’d been at her own church.
That old gut kick hit him and his desire for sleep fled. He found the spare key they kept in Felony’s doghouse. He’d hardly fallen onto the sofa when Reign showed up.
She’d been surprised to find him there and that his godmothers and father hadn’t arrived back yet. She sat him down and told him what had happened earlier when she interrupted Joy and the others. “They never admitted it, but I am sure they were trying to visit my father. And whether they were or not really doesn’t matter. They were supposed to stay here until the service tonight. I’m sure when they sneaked out they didn’t know the James Memorial Service was cancelled.”
“Why, Lord, why?” Percy mumbled repeatedly.
Joy and Porky followed Patience through the side door. Felony instinctively stayed behind, rushing off to his doghouse without barking or snarling.
No sooner had they gotten all the way inside than they heard loud, mumbling voices. They raced toward the living room, where they found Reign and Percy.
