by Randy Alcorn
Ray Eagle sighed. “Okay, Ollie. Just promise me you’ll forget everything that’s not relevant to your case. Here goes. In June, Norcoast’s wife hired me to follow him and watch for…indiscretions. She wanted photos, had to see exactly who it was. One night after he left his office I followed him to a hotel. He didn’t check in, but went right up to a room, as if he had an appointment or something. I managed to get in the elevator at the same time. I walked ahead of him, pretended to be outside my own room, fumbling for my passcard. He knocked on a door behind me, and someone let him in real quick, I couldn’t see who. In an hour he left the room by himself. I kept watching the door. Ten minutes later the woman came out, and I managed to get a few discreet pictures. I gave them to Mrs. Norcoast. Gee, Ollie, I hate to even admit I do this kind of thing. It sounds so sleazy, but it was work and I knew Mrs. Norcoast would pay the bill.”
“When you gave her the pictures, what did she say?”
“Nothing,” Ray said. “She was pretty detached. Obviously she suspected or she wouldn’t have hired me. She paid me cash on the spot and said she wouldn’t need my services any longer, which was fine by me.”
“I know you’ve told me more than you wanted to, Ray, and I appreciate it. I assume you keep your negatives. Could you get me a picture of this woman?”
“Can you honestly tell me it might be critical to your investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Well,” Ray said, “I’m in this deep, I may as well put my whole head under. I can have it for you in a few hours. I’ll bring it by your office.”
After putting the children to bed and praying with them, Clarence sat down with Geneva and Daddy, who was coughing and seemed particularly frail.
Clarence told them about Ty shooting the boy and tagging the street sign. After they discussed this for half an hour, Clarence said, “There’s something I need to tell you both. It’s not going to be easy.”
Slowly, painfully, he told them the story of the white boy he’d beaten up thirty years ago. Both sat spellbound, amazed that this could be surfacing after all these years.
When he finished, Clarence wiped his eyes and rested his head on Geneva’s shoulder. She hugged him tight and whispered, “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. I’m so glad you told us.”
After gaining his composure, Clarence looked at Obadiah. “I’m so sorry, Daddy.”
“You held on to that all these years, Son?” Obadiah said, his eyes weighed down. “You done your share of sufferin’, that’s sure. But Jesus already did the sufferin’, see, the only sufferin’ that sets things right. He wants us to accept the atonement, not repeat it. Has you talked to God about this?”
“Yes,” Clarence said. “Finally”
“Then he’ll take care of it now.” Obadiah thought for a moment. “That white boy you beat up? Was he ridin’ a red bike?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“This all happened at the dump, right by the junkyard, right? He was left layin’ by an ol’ refrigerator, wasn’t he?”
“How’d you know that?”
“A neighbor, ol’ Ron, he told me he found the boy. People was scared ’cause a white boy got hurt and nobody knew who done it. Well, ol’ Ron showed me right where he found the boy. Could still see the blood. See, Ron drove him to the hospital hisself. He kept track of that boy. Talked about it the next few weeks. The boy was in the hospital a few days. Had some broken ribs, if I recalls right. But he ended up okay, I knows that much. Told your mama all about it, but for some reason I never told you kids. Guess I should have. He turned out okay, Antsy, he turned out okay. Now why didn’t you never tell your daddy about this?”
“I was so ashamed.” Clarence hung his head, then looked up at his father. “You’re not foolin’ with me, are you Daddy? You’re sure the boy was okay?”
“God is my witness,” Obadiah said.
Clarence broke into tears again, his hands holding his head as if his shoulders had no strength in them. Geneva drew him close. Finally Clarence said, “I’ll bet you to this day that boy hates blacks.”
“We all carries lots of memories, lots of scars,” Obadiah said. “Like that one there under your ear. But I just hopes that boy found Jesus—’cause there’s some scars only he can take away. I knows,” Obadiah said, nodding. “Believe me, I knows.”
Clarence escorted Sue Keels up the aisle, passing by Jake on their right, then parting at the bottom of the church platform stairs. Sue ascended the stairs to take her place as maid of honor, and Clarence ascended to his place as best man.
Clarence looked down the aisle and watched Geneva being escorted by Ollie, looking in his tuxedo like an overstuffed penguin. The big guy grinned up at him. But it was Geneva’s eyes Clarence met. He didn’t remember her looking so beautiful since…their own wedding twenty-one years before.
Clarence looked at his daddy, sitting next to Jonah in the second row, each of them watching out for the other. Obadiah caught Clarence’s eye, then smiled and whispered something to Jonah, who also smiled, both of them looking up at Clarence.
Janet walked in wearing a striking white wedding dress. She was escorted not by her father, who had passed away, but by her daughter, Carly, pale and walking very slowly, leaning on a thin petite cane. Despite her deteriorating health, Carly was all smiles, and she and her mother whispered and giggled the whole long walk up the aisle. This was the second time Janet had been given away in marriage, the first thirty years ago. Two weddings to the same man. But a different man, Clarence knew. He’d seen close up the last two years of Jake’s life.
“I Jake, take you Janet to be my wife.”
Jake and Janet looked like kids again.
“Jake, what symbol of your love and commitment would you share with Janet?”
Clarence untied the ring from the pillow held by the most excited ring bearer in the history of the universe, Little Finn. Clarence handed the ring to Jake, not sure whose grin was bigger, Jake’s or Finn’s, not realizing his own might have outdone them both.
“In accordance with the laws of the state of Oregon and by the authority that is mine as a minister of the gospel, I now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together—again—let no man dare to separate. Jake,” the pastor paused for effect, “you may kiss your bride.”
Jake and Janet kissed now, understanding a great deal more about love than when they’d kissed at that wedding thirty years ago. The entire church erupted into applause, long and heartfelt.
At Clarence’s request, in the recessional Ollie and Sue joined arms, and Clarence escorted out Geneva. When they locked arms, he kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful,” he whispered as they walked down the aisle.
“You ain’t mulch on the flowers yourself, baby,” she whispered back. When they got to the rear of the auditorium, Clarence took her aside.
“I want to get away with you, baby,” Clarence whispered. “Maybe a second honeymoon or something. What would you think of us renewing our wedding vows?”
Geneva looked shocked. “That sounds…wonderful.” Her eyes watered, and he surrounded her in a hug. They finally released each other just in time to hear a loud voice say, “Wow, Mr. Abernassy, you and Mrs. Abernassy really knows how to do a big hug!”
Obadiah had sat down, looking weary, but assuring everyone he was fine. Clarence kept glancing over at him. Suddenly he saw him slump over in his chair. Clarence ran to him. His daddy had already lost consciousness.
Clarence picked him up while people scrambled to find a phone. Ollie waved to Clarence as he went for the front door. “I’ve got the precinct car. I’ll pick you up out here. Faster than an ambulance.”
Clarence nodded as he walked toward the door, people crowding around son and father, father looking remarkably childlike in his son’s huge arms.
As Clarence got his daddy in the backseat, Ollie grabbed the magnetic cherry top, popped it on top of his car, and turned on the siren. He pulled out of the church parking lot and wove through traffic, speeding toward Emanuel Hos
pital. When they pulled up by the large Emergency sign, Clarence threw open the door, picked up his father, and ran inside.
“Hello, Mrs. Norcoast,” Ollie said, admiring the mansion’s beautiful decor. “Thanks for letting me come over to meet with you. I’ll get right to the point. I’m sure you know about your husband’s involvement with Leesa Fletcher.”
Esther Norcoast, dressed impeccably, turned frigid. She moved only her right hand to reach up and finger the angel pin on her blouse.
Ollie handed her the fax sent to Matthew Harper. She looked at it.
“Where did you get this?” Esther asked.
“Well, let’s just say we know you typed it on your husband’s computer and sent it to Mr. Harper on his fax machine. We’ve been in contact with Harper. What would you say if I told you he saved the fax in case something went wrong? As you know, as a result of this fax, Leesa Fletcher ended up dead.”
“I thought she died of heart failure.”
“Yes. From a drug overdose. But she was the real target in the shooting that killed Dani and Felicia Rawls. The guys Harper hired for you got the wrong house. You knew that, didn’t you?”
Esther teared up. Ollie had been groping in the dark, preferring not to mention Ray’s photo of Leesa Fletcher. He suspected now he’d pushed the right button. “What did you have on Harper, Mrs. Norcoast?”
Esther sat quietly a long time. “He worked for my husband. I used to spend a lot of time in the office, until the last year when I really got involved in my angel business. Three years ago I was going through the books and saw some things I didn’t understand. I started watching Matthew, then I caught him manipulating figures on the computer. He’d been embezzling. I told him I’d give him a few months to return all the money, but then he’d have to resign. I said if he did, I wouldn’t tell anyone. Even Reg and Carson didn’t know, still don’t. But I kept the records proving Matthew’s guilt, just in case.”
She seemed to be organizing her thoughts as if this were an after-dinner speech.
“When I found out about…Reggie’s involvement with the girl, I confronted him. He broke off the relationship, but the next thing I knew I overheard Carson telling someone the girl was pregnant and he’d given her money to get an abortion but she hadn’t done it. I realized that if she gave birth to…his baby, everything we’ve worked for could crumble. She’d tell someone, and next thing you know there’d be a scandal, which would cost us the mayoral race, ruin everything. Besides, I couldn’t live knowing he’d had a baby by another woman. I thought about it. I knew Matthew had some…connections. I called and reminded him he owed me a big one, and if he did a job for me, I’d turn over all the records I had on him and pay whatever was necessary to get the job done.”
“Thirty-five thousand dollars,” Ollie said.
“Yes,” Esther said, surprised Harper had divulged all the details. “I still go over the office books once a week. Nobody else pays much attention to them. Matthew’s done plenty of consulting work for us. And we’ve had a lot of generous contributors come through for us the last six months, everyone from Raylon Berkley to the former governor—Reggie’s very popular, you know—so I knew we could cover it. After I sent the fax, Matthew called me and said they could come up here that Saturday night. We wanted to make sure they found the right house, but of course I couldn’t talk to them directly.”
“So you went to Gangster Cool,” Ollie said, chilled by how controlled and at ease Esther appeared to be. “I read three members of your husband’s staff attended the gang conference with him. I checked the records and found out you were one of them. Is that where you met Gangster Cool?”
“Yes. Raymond—that’s how I knew him—he’d done some campaign-related work for us. He’d done a good job. So I asked him to meet with the boys Matthew was sending so he could give them the address and directions to…the girl’s house.
“The next morning when I saw the paper, I was shocked. When I read the headlines about Dani Rawls, I kept looking to see if there were any other shootings. Then I realized it was all a terrible mistake.” A single tear dropped from her left eye, and she caught it gracefully with a tissue.
“Once you found out they’d killed the wrong person, what did you do?”
“I contacted Raymond and told him he needed to do whatever it took to take care of that girl. The next weekend I read she’d died of this heart condition. I hoped that’s all it really was. The hardest part was having to go to the funeral with Reggie and Katie. I didn’t want any of us to be there. But the important thing was, she was gone.”
Ollie stared at this woman, sitting there in all her elegance talking about murdering her daughter’s best friend.
“I’m sorry, detective. I never wanted to hurt anybody but that black girl and her bastard baby. I opened my home to her, gave her some of my clothes and a beautiful gold angel pin. How dare she spite me like that? How dare she seduce my husband and try to ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for? She had the nerve to make him this miserable tie that said ‘Love, Leesa.’ And he had the gall to wear it in public! When I saw it at the Fight Crime rally, I was so angry I almost ripped it off his neck. I told him I never wanted to see that tie again. I saw a picture in his office of him with that tie. I got rid of it on the spot.”
“What made you think Harper would cooperate with you?” Ollie asked.
“Matthew’s a dependable man. He’s helped a lot of people. He cares about his career. I knew he wouldn’t take the risk of his reputation being ruined. Besides, I made it easier for him. I told him the woman was a hooker—that she entrapped Reg and was trying to blackmail him.”
“You said that about Leesa?”
“It sounded…better. And it was kind of true. Not the blackmail part. Maybe she wasn’t a hooker, but she had a hold on him. And she was ruining our lives. I had to stop her. You understand that, don’t you? I’m sorry other people got hurt, but I had to stop her. Reggie does too much good for too many people to let one person ruin him like that.”
“You came up with all this on your own?” Ollie asked. “Didn’t work with anyone but Harper and Gangster Cool?”
“Well, of course I couldn’t have done it without Sartol.”
“Sartol? Who’s Sartol?”
“He’s the one who came up with the idea. I was so confused. I needed guidance. He gave it to me.”
“Mrs. Norcoast, who is Sartol?”
“Why, he’s my angel.”
Ollie stared at her.
“I asked for his help with this whole dreadful problem. Then Matthew Harper popped into my mind. I knew he was the solution. And then Sartol reminded me of Raymond and helped me work out all the details. It was a perfect plan—I never could have done it on my own. Sartol’s my guide I ask my angel about lots of things. He’s never failed me yet.”
“How are you, Daddy?” Clarence asked his father, who looked small and frail in the hospital bed.
“If I was a hoss, they’d a shot me already.” Obadiah chuckled feebly. “But I’s not a hoss—so don’t go and shoot me, all right? Older than dirt, but I’s still a man.”
“You’re the best man I’ve ever known,” Clarence said.
“You should get around mo’, Son. Meet mo’ people.”
“I mean it, Daddy. You were always a hard one to disobey, but you’ve been everything I could ask for in a father. If I could be to my children what you’ve been to me…”
“Give ’em your time, Son. No substitute for your time. Learn those younguns God’s ways. Teach ’em who they is—chillens of the King. Some man treats ’em like a dog, that’s his problem. He gonna have to face their Daddy the King. Chillens grows up real quick, Son. I knows. Don’t miss the chances you got now. Won’t get ’em again.”
Clarence nodded. “I called Uncle Elijah. He’s concerned about you. Wanted me to tell you he was prayin’ for you.”
“He’s a good brother, ’Lijah. Best friend a man could ever have. Went through the hard days together.
Kept each other warm those cold nights. Had us some fine times, we did. A true brother. I wish you and Harley could—”
“I know.” Clarence choked. “I’m sorry we never got to Cooperstown.”
“It ain’t too late.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, I wants you to take Jonah and Ty and Geneva and the girls too, if they wants to go. And ask Harley too. You can do it. They gots some old Negro League pictures, you know. Look for me. Twenty-two years in Shadow Ball, your old daddy’s gots to be in some of them pictures.”
“But it’s you I wanted to go with, Daddy.”
“Don’t worry none about me, Son. I’s goin’ to the real Hall of Fame.” He laughed and looked at Clarence with those soulful eyes, the light inside flickering with the winds of eternity. “Remember, Son, God sees around the corners, even if you can’t.”
Clarence noticed someone at the doorway.
“Manny? Come in.”
“Mr. Manny? My detective friend?” The old man reached up his hand. Manny walked in and took it. “Tell you what, Son,” Obadiah said. “Let me talk to Mr. Manny awhile. Got some things I wants to tell him, ’portant things every man should know. You go get you some coffee or something. Maybe some fresh air.”
Clarence nodded, walking out of the room, knowing what his father meant by important things.
When Clarence returned to the room forty-five minutes later, Obadiah had fallen asleep, and Manny was standing there holding his hand. Manny turned away a moment, then walked past Clarence, nodding respectfully but saying nothing.
Clarence hovered over his father, wanting to protect him, unaware that someone much bigger and stronger than he stood beside the bed, sword outstretched toward heaven, prepared to give everything in defense of this one old man, from whom he had learned much and to whom he had become loyal beyond measure.
Clarence called Ollie from the hospital to update him on his father.
“You won’t believe this,” Ollie said. “Norcoast is in the hospital. He attempted suicide.”