“Yeah,” Hosea continued, “you know, Reverend Wright and Pastor Griffith have been on the outs ever since Reverend Wright dismissed Griffith from his church.”
“Did you tell me that?” Jasmine asked, remembering that she’d found all of that out from Mae Frances and not Hosea.
“I thought I did. But anyway, Griffith was running around with some bad dudes; a major drug ring in Chicago. And now, the word on the street is that he’s missing. That he was taken.”
“Taken? Taken where?”
“Kidnapped. Or maybe even something worse.” Hosea shook his head. “Reverend Wright said that it’s all over the streets, though his disappearance hasn’t hit the news yet.”
“Wow!” Jasmine leaned back on the chaise. “This sounds pretty bad.”
“It may be. I’m gonna give Lester Adams a call to see if he’s heard anything. I know he was working closely with Griffith. I think Griffith was trying to change his ways, trying to become more legit by working with the Coalition.”
Yeah, right. “Okay . . . well . . . let me know what he says.” Jasmine leaned back, crossed her legs, and opened a magazine across her lap.
Hosea glanced at Jasmine sideways. “That’s it? You’re not going to follow me, stand over my shoulder, and pretend that you’re not listening to my conversation with Reverend Adams?”
“Nope!” she said as if she couldn’t possibly care less.
“Okay, darlin’. I know something is up with you now, because my wife would never pass up any kind of gossip.”
“You’re the one who’s always telling me that gossip is a sin. Didn’t you just preach on that?” Before he could respond, she added, “I think your exact words were ‘For by your words you will be acquitted and by your words you will be condemned.’ ”
“Well, looka here.” Hosea grinned. “My wife is actually listening in church.”
“Yes, I am,” she said. “I’m listening and putting it all into action. I’m watching my tongue. Because death and life are in the power of the tongue, right?”
He stepped back a little and let his eyes roam over her as if he was seeing her for the first time. “Look at you, my scripture-quoting wife. I remember when you didn’t even know where to find the Book of Genesis in the Bible.”
As he laughed, she grabbed a pillow from behind her and tossed it at him. “Stop making fun of me,” she said, though she laughed, too. “Go on and get out of here. Go make your call.”
He was still chuckling when he strolled out of their bedroom. Jasmine kept her grin until he was out of her sight.
Dang!
There was no way she was going to be able to sit up in this bedroom and cut out letters from a magazine with Hosea on the other side of the apartment. But she really needed to get this letter to Mae Frances so that she could mail it out. Rachel was so filled with fear and Jasmine had to strike again, now!
She dumped the magazines into a tote bag, then grabbed her purse and jacket before she scooted down the hall to their office.
“Hey, babe.” She peeked in the door. Hosea had the phone pressed to his ear, so she whispered, “I’m going to Starbucks. Want something?”
He shook his head.
She said, “I’ll be back in an hour,” and waved. She took an extra moment to stare at her husband and wonder if he would appreciate all that she was doing for him.
Probably not. Hosea was such a leave-it-up-to-God kind of guy. Well, he would appreciate it when he was sitting in the president of the Coalition’s chair. And if Jasmine had anything to do with it, Hosea would be taking that seat within the next thirty days.
Jasmine was talking before Mae Frances had the door completely open. “Okay, I have another letter for you to mail to Rachel,” she said, stepping over the threshold. “I have to cut out the letters, but it won’t take me long.”
She rushed over to the dining room table, but then stopped when she glanced over her shoulder. Mae Frances hadn’t moved from the door.
“What’s wrong?” Jasmine asked.
“Uh . . . excuse me, Jasmine Larson,” her friend said in a huff. “Good afternoon.”
Jasmine waved her hand in the air. “I’m sorry. It’s just that there is so much to do and I’m getting kind of excited. Even though I always planned to get Hosea the presidency, I never thought it would happen this quickly.” Jasmine shrugged off her coat. “So, as I was saying, about this letter to Rachel . . . I’m gonna need you to help me cut out some of these letters—”
“No.”
Jasmine’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
“I said, no. Very clearly, I might add.”
“No, what?”
“No, we’re not going to do this. We’re not going to send any more letters.”
“Mae Frances,” Jasmine whined. She didn’t know what her friend’s problem was, but she didn’t have time for this. While this was the highest priority on her list right now, she had so many other things to do—like going to Jacqueline’s school this evening. So, she didn’t feel like making too much of an effort to cajole Mae Frances. “I told you, this isn’t for fun. This is business. Even you said Hosea should’ve been the president.”
“Yes, I did. And that’s exactly why we shouldn’t be doing this.”
Jasmine tossed the magazines down on the table. “You’re not making any sense.”
“You and I put that plan together to make sure Preacher Man didn’t win because we knew Earl was involved with some really bad people. And those bad people are back. They killed the man.”
“Well, he’s not officially dead.”
“What?”
“Jeremiah Wright called Hosea today and told him that right now, Pastor Griffith is missing. That’s all.”
“Well, I’ve been speaking to people, too. My own connections. And that man is dead.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear that. That means I can move forward as planned. All I need is for you to mail another letter to Rachel.”
“I’m not doing it.” Mae Frances crossed her arms and shook her head. “I’ve known a lot of dangerous people in my life, and the way I’ve been able to stay alive is by staying out of their way. I know when to stay away from trouble, and Jasmine Larson, this is trouble.”
“What kind of trouble are you talking about?”
Mae Frances grabbed Jasmine’s hand and led her to the sofa. “I don’t know, but you can’t convince me that there’s anything right about this,” she said as she pushed Jasmine down. Sitting next to her, Mae Frances continued, “Look at what we’re dealing with. Some people say he’s missing. Some say he’s dead. You saw a dead body. And then it was gone. Oh, no.” She whipped her head from side to side. “Add all of that up and it’s trouble to me! Nope, I’m not mailing another letter and neither are you.”
“I cannot believe you’re backing out on me now.” Jasmine wanted to stand up and slap some sense into her friend. “This is for Hosea and I need your help.”
“I am helping you. I’m helping you to stay out of a whole bunch of mess. My connects in Chicago are telling me all kinds of things. Nobody knows anything for sure except that Griffith is missing and money is missing. And you know you better not mess with no drug dealer’s cash.”
Jasmine jumped up from the couch as if she was ready to fight somebody. “What I’m doing has nothing to do with drug dealers or even Pastor Griffith. I don’t care about him. I don’t care if he’s dead or alive. After the trouble that he was planning to cause my husband—”
“That’s what I’m talking about. That same trouble has followed him to the grave.”
“And it has nothing to do with me!” She marched over to the table and snatched up the magazines. “Fine. If you don’t want to help me, I’ll just do it myself.”
“Listen to me, chile.” Mae Frances held Jasmine by her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “You know I love you like a daughter, so I can’t let you do this. Whatever is going down out there is really, really bad. I need you to back away.
”
Was that fear that she saw in her friend’s eyes? If it was, this would be the first time. Jasmine couldn’t remember Mae Frances ever backing away from anything. No one scared her, no one could threaten her. So what was this about?
Mae Frances kept on, “If you want Preacher Man to get that president’s chair, then I’ll help you do it. We’ll sit down and think of another way. But we’re not going to do it this way.”
Mae Frances had never sounded more like a mother to Jasmine, and when she pulled Jasmine into her arms, Jasmine melted into the embrace.
Mae Frances held her until Jasmine said, “All right.”
“You promise me, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances began as she stepped back. “You promise me that you’ll just let this go.”
“I will.”
“And I promise you that after this settles down, we’ll figure out something to take that presidency away from that sow and her husband.”
Jasmine cracked up. “A sow, Mae Frances? Really?”
Mae Frances bowed her head. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t nice, huh? Calling Rachel a sow and insulting all the female hogs out there.”
This time they laughed together, though Jasmine knew this was Mae Frances’s game—to get her to step back and away from the situation.
But it wasn’t going to work.
“See, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances said. “It’s gonna be fine. Just you wait. You’ll see. We’ll figure out something.”
“Okay.” Jasmine slipped on her coat and tucked the magazines under her arm, but Mae Frances held out her hand.
“Give those to me.”
Jasmine frowned.
Mae Frances repeated her demand. “Give me those magazines so that you won’t be tempted and then find yourself all caught up in that mess.”
Jasmine chuckled, but Mae Frances kept her hand stretched out in front of her as if she had no plans of letting Jasmine leave with those magazines.
With a sigh, she slipped the magazines from under her arm and gave the bunch to Mae Frances.
Mae Frances smiled and hugged Jasmine again. But when Jasmine stepped outside of her friend’s apartment, she had her own grin.
Please! As if that was supposed to stop her. Yes, Mae Frances had always been in the mix and Jasmine always had her friend’s help when she needed her most. But she had been in trouble before and gotten out of it way before she ever knew Mae Frances.
If her friend didn’t want to help her, no problem. She’d find a way to make it happen. She was definitely going to send another letter to Rachel. And she was definitely going to use this to bring Lester Adams down.
“Trust that!” Jasmine whispered, as she stepped from Mae Frances’s building and headed toward home.
Chapter
THIRTEEN
The eight-by-ten piece of paper trembled in Rachel’s hand. She hadn’t been able to stop shaking since she first saw the words, which now seemed to be leaping off the page.
You killed him! And we have proof!
Fear filled her body as a river of tears found their way down her cheeks. How in the world had she gotten caught up in something like this? She was actually being blackmailed!
After Jasmine had told Rachel about her letter, Rachel had said a silent prayer all the way home. She’d prayed that God would make this whole mess go away. She’d prayed that there was no letter waiting for her since she hadn’t checked Saturday’s mail. There wasn’t and for a minute, Rachel thought God had answered her prayers—until the mailman appeared this morning, right after Lester left for a meeting.
The mailman, who usually just dropped their mail in the brick box out front, had personally walked the stack of mail to the front door, where Rachel had been peeping out. Rachel knew her mind was playing tricks on her, but it seemed like he needed to hand deliver this devastating news, when in actuality he was just coming up to have her sign for another Express package for Lester.
The postman hadn’t gotten back to the sidewalk when she noticed the long, manila envelope with no return address. Everything inside her said, “Don’t open it,” but it was as if some greater force took over. She’d nervously torn the envelope open and pulled out the ivory paper with the cutout magazine letters.
You killed him! We have proof!
“Mama!” Rachel jumped at the sound of her son’s voice.
She clutched her heart and said, “Boy, you scared me to death. What?” Why today of all days did Jordan have to be home sick? She wanted to be alone. She needed to be alone right now.
“Dang, I’ve been calling you a hundred times,” he said through a stuffy nose. “Telephone.”
Rachel snatched the cordless phone he extended toward her, just as he turned and stomped back inside. Rachel wished he hadn’t answered the phone. She wasn’t in the mood to talk with anyone.
“Hello,” she snapped.
“Rachel?”
Rachel took a deep breath. “Oh, hey, Yvette,” she said, massaging her temples.
“Are you okay? You sound stressed,” Yvette replied.
“I’m fine. What’s going on?” Then suddenly, Rachel added, “Any word from Pastor Griffith?”
Yvette was silent a minute, then said, “Actually, that’s why I’m calling. He’s still missing and his daughter, Eleanor, is ready to call the police.”
Rachel groaned as she made her way back inside. Why couldn’t Pastor Griffith’s coke-head daughter be off somewhere on a binge? Last Rachel had heard, the young woman had been clean for six months. Rachel knew it was mean, but she wished the girl was off somewhere getting high so she didn’t go looking for her father.
“Well, why does Eleanor think he’s missing and not just away on vacation or something?” Rachel asked, trying to compose herself.
“Well, apparently, Earl—I mean, Pastor Griffith—was supposed to be at her rehab graduation ceremony yesterday and he didn’t show up.”
“And?”
“And, she said he wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
Rachel paced back and forth across the living room, the letter still clutched tightly in her hand. “So what? There’s a first time for everything.”
“There’s more.”
More? Rachel fell down on the sofa to brace herself for the rest.
“So, Eleanor asked around at his building and the doorman recalled seeing Pastor Griffith go up, but says he never came down.”
Rachel’s heart raced like it was a contender in the Daytona 500.
“And here’s what’s confusing to me,” Yvette continued. “The valet says he remembers someone named Rachel saying she was there to see Pastor Griffith.”
Rachel’s heart sank into the pit of her stomach. This nightmare was getting worse by the minute. And why would the valet only remember her? Jasmine was there, too!
Play dumb, the voice inside Rachel’s head screamed.
“Huh?” was all she could manage to say.
“I said, the valet remembered a Rachel going upstairs,” Yvette repeated. “You said you weren’t at Pastor Griffith’s apartment until you met me there.”
Think, think, think!
Rachel couldn’t believe how convoluted her thoughts were. She was usually on top of her game when it came to scheming and conniving. But then again, she’d never been involved in a murder before.
“It wasn’t me.”
Again, silence on Yvette’s end.
“What other Rachel would be going to visit Pastor Griffith?”
“Don’t know,” she replied as calmly as she could. “Maybe he’s confusing the name from when Jasmine and I came to see you. Yeah, that’s it. I think I gave him my name then,” she said, even though she knew she hadn’t said two words the second time they arrived at Pastor Griffith’s building.
Yvette let out a long sigh. “Pastor Griffith was not only supposed to go to his daughter’s event, but he was supposed to pick up a donation for the ABC from a Chicago church yesterday and he didn’t show, so something is definitely wrong.�
�
Why was he picking up checks for the ABC? Rachel wanted to scream. He wasn’t the treasurer. Shoot, he wasn’t even an officer. This man was more trouble than he was worth.
“Are you sure you don’t know where Pastor Griffith is?” Yvette asked again.
“Of course I don’t.” That wasn’t a lie. Rachel had no clue where his body was.
“Well, this is getting crazy. Eleanor will file a police report on Wednesday. They’re making her wait seventy-two hours. Maybe then the cops can pull the surveillance video at his building and we can get some answers.”
Rachel let out a small gasp. Surveillance video? Why in the world hadn’t they thought about surveillance video? That stupid Jasmine. Trying to take control of the situation like she was a professional criminal, and she forgot some basic facts. Like the fact that in such an upscale building, of course there would be surveillance video.
“Rachel, are you there?”
“Huh? Y-yeah, I’m here,” Rachel stammered. “J-just wondering what happened to Pastor Griffith.”
“Everybody is wondering that. It’s already the talk of the town. I heard it’s gonna be on the news tonight. But maybe the video will give us some answers.” She paused. “Rachel, there’s nothing you need to tell me, right? I mean, there aren’t going to be any surprises?”
If Rachel wasn’t so doggone guilty, she would have taken offense at Yvette’s tone. “What kind of surprises? I told you, I don’t know where Pastor Griffith is. I didn’t see him.”
“Maybe Jasmine knows something.”
“No!” Rachel caught herself and lowered her voice. “I mean, Jasmine was with me. She knows what I know.”
“Okay,” Yvette said skeptically. “I’ll keep you posted.”
“Do that.” Rachel hung up the phone without giving her a chance to say goodbye.
Rachel glanced at the TV. A commercial with a smiling Oprah Winfrey filled the screen. Rachel tossed a throw pillow at the TV. “This is all your fault!” she yelled at Oprah. “If you had just let me on the show, I wouldn’t have ended up at Pastor Griffith’s and in the middle of this mess.”
Friends & Foes Page 10