A Good Excuse To Be Bad

by Miranda Parker

  The woman next to me patted my shoulder. “A man like that will drive any good woman crazy.”

  I shouted, “My sister did not kill Devon McArthur.”

  The salon shut up.

  Halle said, “Oh, honey. We know that.”

  The salon breathed and Amen’ ed some more.

  “You’re just saying that because I’m here.”

  “Honey, I don’t have time to lie.” Halle slapped my thigh with the hand towel that hung over her right shoulder. “Let’s get you on the dryer before the wrap lotion dries up. When did you say the church folk are coming?”

  “In two hours, and I need time to drive home.”

  I stood up and waved at the other ladies getting prepped. They waved back. As soon as I left the room, the original boom of the salon returned to its normal robust roar.

  Halle walked me into another room. Both sides of the room were lined with hair dryers. She placed the towel on one of the dryer chair arms. “Sit down.”

  As she set the dryer to dry my hair, she said, “It’s a sin and a shame what has happened. I knew Greater Atlanta was going to hang Ava out to dry the moment I saw the story about Devon’s death on the news.”

  “Why did you think that?”

  “Don’t act surprised.” She lowered the dryer over my head. “Ava talked about the administration’s disloyalty all the time.”

  I lifted the dryer off my head. “She said that to you?”

  “Yeah, she never told you?” She shook her head. “Of course she didn’t. Ava didn’t want you to know that you were right about the church.”

  “Right about what exactly? You know I have many gripes about the place.”

  “That last story you did for the Sentinel. You know the one about nonprofit foundation fraud, the one that made you quit. Well, Ava believed you.”

  My legs numbed. “What?”

  She checked her watch. “You’re going to have my schedule backed up with all these questions.”

  “And so what. You double book your clients.”

  “Touché. Let me get the blow dryer. It’s not as good, but you don’t have much time anyway. I get to try out my new porcelain dryer.” She went back to her station, then returned with a big barrel silver blow dryer and a huge comb attachment.

  “So why did my sister tell you all this and not me?”

  “Women tell their hairstylists a lot of things. I don’t know. I think it’s the fact that we make you feel so comfortable, you can’t help but tell the truth.”

  “Or could it be this place is so loud, she didn’t think you heard her.”

  “Oh, honey, I hear everything. I even heard you are in love with your pastor.”

  “I didn’t tell you that.”

  She chuckled. “We don’t just listen, Angel. We see very well. So let me give you some advice.”

  She had my full attention. “Yes?”

  “Marry him.”

  I laughed. “What?”

  “Marry him.”

  By the time we were done, not only did I look fierce, but I was ready to face off with the women armor bearers of Greater Atlanta Faith. I hoped.

  25

  Saturday, 8:00 PM

  Sugar Hill Community Church, Sugar Hill, GA

  Ava’s armor bearers walked inside the church at 8:00 PM on the dot. There were three: an older woman, a young woman who looked old enough to be barely out of school, and a woman in her late twenties or early thirties, about my and Ava’s age. The woman closer to our age introduced herself and the group to me. Her name was Candace Johnson, the older woman was Mrs. Loretta Stephens, and the young one’s name was April Peters. I must admit I was surprised they weren’t dressed alike or wearing the same color. In fact, they didn’t look like the modern-day Stepford Wives I had imagined. They wore jeans and button-down blouses just like I did. I cringed. What if they were normal decent folk? I hoped so for Ava’s sake.

  To my surprise, Elvis was there. He was sweet enough to bring over some finger food from the Biscuit Depot: peach marmalade tea cakes, coffee, biscotti, and banana pudding, my favorite. I hoped the pudding would take the edge off. Justus hadn’t arrived yet. After Elvis placed all the food on the serving tables, he walked over to me with a small plastic container in his hand. He handed me the container. “These are for you.”

  I popped the lid. Key lime cupcakes. I gasped. “How did you know?”

  “It’s a gift God blessed me with.”

  “What?” I giggled. “The ability to know a woman’s guilty pleasure?”

  “No.” He touched my hand. “The ability to listen and remember. Your sister talked about your cupcake fascination often.”

  “She did? Talk about me, I mean?”

  He nodded. “I know that you two have not been close for a long time, but I believe—I hope—that through this tragedy, God will reunite you and Lady Ava. She needs her family right now, and the children do, too.”

  He was so sweet. I gave him a hug. I would have given him a juicier hug if Justus and Mama hadn’t walked in.

  I heard Mama’s voice first. “Where’s Evangeline? Where’s my daughter?”

  “Your mother is here.” Elvis released his hold. “I would love to chat with her, but I can’t. I have to attend the Board of Trustees meeting tonight.”

  “I’m sure she will understand.”

  “I need to tell you two important things. One, the utensils and trays are disposable. The ladies will handle the cleaning of the catering supplies. And two . . .”

  His voice quivered, I noticed. “Is something wrong?”

  “I apologize, Angel, but I’m a bit concerned for you.”

  “For me? Why?”

  Mama stopped in front of the door. “Elvis, why didn’t you tell me you were in here?”

  He walked toward her and gave her a hug. “Because I’m still on the clock, to my chagrin. I need to speak with your daughter for a bit longer and then I have to go.”

  “It’s okay, sugar. We will talk soon. I just want to warn you.” Mama then turned toward me and sneered. “Ava’s women friends brought dishes covered in tacky plastic wrap. It takes away from the décor of the buffet table. I’m just saying.”

  “Okay, Mama. I’ll get on it.”

  She nodded and walked out the door.

  Elvis tilted his head as if he were looking out the door. “Mother Crawford Curtis Carter looked as if she’s ready to pounce on our armor bearers.”

  I giggled. “She’s anxious for answers. We all are, especially whether Ava makes bail tomorrow. She’ll be okay.”

  “I pray that she will.” He touched my shoulder.

  I watched him. I wanted to ask him about Terry, but my gut told me to be patient and fish for something else. “You must think I’m a hypocrite.”

  He batted his eyes. “Excuse me?”

  “I know you saw me and Pastor Morgan in your parking lot today.”

  “You two are a couple.” His cheeks reddened. “Yes, I figured as much.”

  “No, actually, we’re not.” I looked toward the door to see if Mama was within earshot. “This isn’t the right time for that sort of thing. You know?”

  He nodded, but didn’t say anything.

  “So I’ll be alone tomorrow.”

  “Of course.” He smiled. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “Not even Terry? Should I worry about him?”

  His eyes widened. “Terry?”

  “Devon’s bodyguard. I saw him today at your place. Should I worry about him when I visit tomorrow?”

  “No, I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat. “The church forced my hand. They sent him over because they knew you were coming.”

  “And how did they know that?”

  “I told them.” He rubbed his neck. “I didn’t think it was going to be a problem. I mean, you are focused on clearing Lady Ava of the bishop’s murder. What could be wrong with that?”

  “So the Board of Trustees is afraid of me?”

  “Not afraid,
just concerned. They aren’t anymore.”

  “What changed their minds?”

  “Rachel. Your inquiry of her. The church shares similar concerns.”

  “What kind?”

  He lowered his head. “They want to find her, too.”

  I stepped back and took a deeper look at Elvis. His hands trembled and his head remained lowered. He was definitely hiding something.

  I touched his shoulder. “How well do you know Rachel?”

  “Apparently not well enough.” He looked up. His eyes had reddened. “From what I remember, she was a great girl. She did great work for the church. We got along very well. I don’t have anything bad to say about her, except that she had found herself in a spot of trouble. Lady Ava wanted to help her. So did I, but unfortunately Rachel decided it was best to leave the church and resolve her issues without us.”

  “You worked closely with her?”

  “Yes, by default, mind you.” He chuckled.

  “Right. Since you’re Devon’s first man and Rachel was Ava’s assistant, you saw each other a lot.”

  “Exactly.” He nodded. “We worked on a lot of projects together.”

  “Wow, you must miss her then?”

  He looked up at me. “Angel, I miss them all. We were a happy family.”

  “I see . . .” I observed him some more. He wasn’t as fidgety as he was before. “Since you and Rachel had such a close connection, did you become friends?”

  “Yes, of course. She’s a lovely girl.”

  “So you liked her?”

  He grinned. “Angel . . .”

  “Just asking.”

  “I understand, but she’s not my type.”

  “Did she contact you after she left the church?”

  “The board asked me the same question the day bishop died, but no, she hadn’t contacted me. Honestly, I hoped that she bloody would have. I didn’t want her to find out via cable news.”

  “That’s very considerate,” I said. “But I’m confused about why the board wanted to find her after Devon’s death. Do they suspect she’s involved?”

  “Of course not.” He sighed. “That’s absurd.”

  “Then give me a better explanation.”

  “It’s quite simple, honestly. Finding Rachel is a crisis management issue. The last thing the church needs right now is for the DeKalb County Homicide Unit or the Atlanta press to find Lady Ava’s personal assistant.”

  “Former personal assistant.”

  He squinted. “Excuse me?”

  “Rachel is no longer Ava’s personal assistant. She could possibly be a material witness, but she wouldn’t be helpful or hurtful to Ava at this point unless there’s more. Is there more about Rachel that you’re not telling me, Elvis?”

  “This discussion makes me uncomfortable, especially when the conversation is with a bloody reporter.”

  “I’m not talking to you as a reporter; I’m talking to you as one sister desperate to free her sister from jail.”

  He huffed. “It’s hard to believe with all your questions.”

  “Questions?” I scoffed. “The police don’t have a reason to search for any other suspects, because my sister won’t say anything. But if Ava’s silence has to do with Rachel . . .” I touched his shoulder. “Please, Elvis. I’m begging here. Tell me. Why is Rachel important to the church?”

  Elvis folded his arms over his chest. “Rachel had problems. I can’t talk about them here, for the sake of time, but finding her is very important to Greater Atlanta, and, of course, to Lady Ava. We don’t want her problems adding more scandal to an already scandalous situation. Do you understand?”

  “Very. When can you tell me about her problems?”

  He rubbed his jaw. “Not now. I have to go to my meeting.”

  “So I assume you’ve already asked the armor bearers about her?”

  He looked at them and leaned toward me. “Since bishop’s death and Lady Ava’s arrest, they barely talk to me. I don’t know why.”

  “Is it because you’re white? No offense, but you do stand out at Greater Atlanta. It’s got to be the elephant in the room over there.”

  “Actually, my father is Nigerian.” He smirked and shook his head. “Bishop McArthur was working toward changing the dynamics in the church to something far beyond race, more like structure and traditions.”

  “Would that include the need for armor bearers?”

  He shrugged. “Some traditions Devon didn’t think were necessary. I don’t know if the armor bearer division was a part of that plan. All I know is that he wanted to streamline Greater Atlanta. Take the church toward a new and better vision, a new denomination.”

  “A new denomination? Really?” I made a mental note. “So what do you want me to do?”

  “I want you to find her. Maybe the ladies will talk to you. One of them must know where she is. If not”—he pulled an envelope out of his hand—“I hope this is enough to retain you. I know you have other ways to find someone who doesn’t want to be found. It’s pretty clear Rachel doesn’t want to be found.”

  “Seems like that to me, too.” I peeled the envelope open and peeked inside. My mouth dropped. There was a cashier’s check for $50,000 inside.

  26

  8:30 PM

  When I looked up, Justus was standing behind Elvis, his eyes on me. I placed the envelope in my back pocket. He didn’t need to see this. I’d give it back to Elvis as soon as I could anyway.

  “Elvis, you’ll be late for your meeting if you don’t leave now. We’ll discuss this later tonight.”

  He nodded and then turned to Justus. “You have a lovely church, sir.”

  “Thank you.” Justus smiled. “And thank you again for bringing food tonight for the family.”

  “One of our drivers will drop off some breakfast tomorrow morning as well.” Elvis walked toward the door, stopped, turned around, and looked at us. “Have a good night.”

  “You too,” I said to him as he walked away.

  He spoke to the armor bearers, then exited as quietly as he came.

  “Angel, I need to talk to you,” Justus said.

  I exhaled. I decided that I would not lie to him anymore. Something inside me wanted to come clean. “I need to talk to you, too.”

  I took his hand and pulled him into an empty study room so no one could see or hear us.

  Before I could tell him about the money and Big Faith’s request, he said, “I can’t be here tonight. I have a problem of my own.”

  “A problem?” I gulped. “What kind?”

  “It’s Kelly. Nothing to trouble yourself with. I’ll be back before the ladies leave, but I wanted you to know before I left why I had to go. I retrieved your mother so she could be here with you for moral support. You’ll be okay.”

  “My mom for moral support?” I chuckled. “Well, it was good while it lasted.”

  “I’m sorry, but I have to go.” He kissed my cheek and then left.

  “Justus?” I turned around and gasped.

  Everyone stood in the doorway watching me. Mama shook her head.

  I blushed. “Let’s get back to the conference room, ladies.”

  Everyone settled inside. Justus stayed around a few minutes longer to greet everyone. I was sure he would give me the 411 about his niece’s situation later. I wished I had found time to do a small search on Kelly’s boyfriend, because I didn’t want Justus to leave. After this meeting, I would call Paige to see if I could contract her to check up on that guy. It’s the least I could do for the help I’ve received.

  Sugar Hill Community Church may not have been as large as Greater Atlanta, but we had our own small luxuries. The room was large. The mahogany chairs were wide, comfy, and new. The round mahogany conference table glistened and glowed, and the room smelled lemony fresh. A huge bowl of lemons and limes sat in the middle of the table. Mrs. Lewis had outdone herself.

  I smiled and winked at Justus before he left, then remembered I wasn’t supposed to be doing that anym
ore. His eyes widened and he smiled back. I lowered my head and located a seat on the other side of the table. I placed my note pad down, then gathered a few snacks from the buffet table and sat down.

  Mama plopped down next to me with an empty plate. She watched the armor bearers nibble their food and sip their drinks with her arms folded. I nudged her to try to get her to stop. Tonight was not the time or place to be combative. We needed answers, alliances, and bail money. I eyeballed Mama to get her attention. She looked at me, rolled her eyes, and then returned to mean-mugging the ladies. She was not listening to me. I’m in big trouble.

  About two minutes into our reception, Mama asked, “Have any of you ladies been to visit my baby in jail?”

  I stood corrected. We were in hot water.

  April, the youngest of them, coughed. Candace sat in the middle. I didn’t notice how large her eyes were until Mama’s question. I thought they would pop out of their sockets. I took note of that for some weird reason.

  But the older one, the one who sat down first, Mrs. Loretta, she didn’t seem surprised at all by Mama’s question. She cleaned her mouth with a napkin slowly, lowered the napkin in her lap slowly, and then looked up at us and grinned.

  “Your daughter hasn’t included us on her visitor’s list. We hoped that you would implore her to do so. We want to be of service and support to her wherever she is.”

  “Mmhmm. I bet you do.” Mama leaned back in her chair, then mumbled another profanity.

  I cringed.

  “You don’t have to bet in God’s house, Mrs. Crawford. God has it all in control,” Mrs. Loretta added.

  “No, get it right. I’m Mrs. Crawford Curtis Carter.”

  Mrs. Loretta smirked.

  I felt nauseated. I didn’t think this meeting was getting anywhere.

  “Is something funny?” Mama asked.

  My neck felt uncomfortably hot. “No, Mama. Please.”

  “No, darling. I’m stating our case. We are here because we wanted to pray with you and dine with you. We want to be of service and to help in anyway we know how. But your tone, which I understand is more fear and bereavement than anything else, is putting you in a place where God can’t do His majestic work. I know you don’t want that. I understand your concerns.” She glanced at the other armor bearers. “All of us do, sweetheart.” Mrs. Loretta possessed an old sultry southern voice that reminded me of Lena Horne. Come to think of it, she favored the legendary singer and actress, too.