“Rachel . . .”
“No, take Cecelia’s picture. She said she’s in the building all the time because she was sewing something for Pastor Griffith’s neighbor. Ask her if she’s ever seen her. Ask her what she remembers from that day.”
Jasmine thought about it for a minute, then finally said, “I guess it’s worth a shot. What’s her name and how are we going to find her?”
“I don’t remember her name. But I have her card.” Rachel raced into her bedroom and tore through her bag. She searched for the teal jacket she had on that day. She found it tucked at the bottom of her suitcase and immediately, her hands began fumbling in the pockets. Rachel’s heart flittered with relief when she felt the card. Thank God she hadn’t thrown it away like she initially had intended.
“Okay, it says she works at some seamstress shop on 103rd. Maybe you can go by tomorrow. If she can describe the person who bumped into her, then she can take that to the police.”
Jasmine looked unsure. “I still don’t know what good that’ll do because she can also confirm that you were there.”
“Okay, maybe it’s not about clearing my name anymore,” Rachel said, exasperated. “But I know the only way I’m going to get these thugs off my back is by either finding the real girlfriend and turning them on to her, or finding out who really killed Pastor Griffith.”
“Okay, in the morning, I guess we get back at it.”
“I’ll just have to find a way to let my husband let me keep at it because if I know Lester, he’s going to want to keep me locked up in this room until the police say it’s safe to go back home.”
On cue, Lester walked back into the suite. He looked frazzled. “This is not good,” he said, clutching his cell phone in his hand as he paced the floor.
“What is it, baby?” Rachel immediately wondered if Buddy had told him something bad about her case.
“Rev. King has called an emergency meeting of the board!” Lester announced, his eyes wide.
“Andre King, Cecelia’s husband?” Jasmine asked.
“Yes.” Lester ran his hands over his curly mound of hair, a nervous habit of his when he was stressed. “And in the morning, of all things! How can they just do that? I told them I couldn’t make it and they still plan to move forward.”
“Why are they saying they need an emergency meeting?”
He looked like he was about to lose it. “Rev. King has convinced the board that we need an emergency vote. We are up for a huge grant from the Family First Foundation, and he says the ABC can’t endure the scandal of you being accused of murder.”
“But I didn’t do anything,” Rachel protested. Andre King may have been leading the charge for an emergency meeting, but this had Cecelia King written all over it.
“Of course I know that, and I don’t see how they can try to convict you without even hearing your side,” Lester said. He took her hands. “Baby, I am so sorry, I have to go home. I can’t let them get there tomorrow and crucify you.”
Rachel hugged her husband. “Don’t worry about me. You’ve worked too hard to let them take this away from you. Buddy said I can’t leave, but you go back and fight for your title. I’ll be damned if the Kings are just going to steal this presidency from you. I’m not guilty and we’re not going to let them run us out. I don’t care what the Kings say.”
He seemed relieved to have her support. “Where is Hosea?” he asked, turning to Jasmine. “I want to ask his opinion.”
Jasmine glanced at her watch. “He’s probably at the airport about to board a plane here. But you can try his cell. Maybe he hasn’t gotten on yet.”
“Okay.” Lester leaned in and kissed Rachel on the cheek before disappearing into the bedroom.
Rachel turned to Jasmine, her lips pursed. “So I guess we now know why Cecelia would want to set me up. She’s probably behind this whole thing. It wouldn’t surprise me if she killed Rev. Griffith herself.”
“It’s amazing that she would do all of that just to get a position.”
“It’s like you said, she doesn’t like to lose.” Rachel was no longer scared. Now she was downright angry. She didn’t have all the answers, but she was determined to find them out. “We’re going to find out how she’s tied to Rev. Griffith’s murder,” Rachel continued, “and I want to be right there when the police slap handcuffs on her and haul her away. Whatever it takes to get to the bottom of this, I’m game.”
Jasmine cracked a conspiratorial smile. “Ooooh, I like this side of you. And trust, I know you can get down and dirty.”
“That’s right,” Rachel replied. “And if Cecelia King thinks she’s big and bad, we’re about to show her we’re bigger and badder.”
Jasmine smiled and for Rachel, all doubts were erased. They wouldn’t rest until they cracked this case and when all was said and done, she and Jasmine would be bonded for life.
Chapter
TWENTY-SIX
Jasmine didn’t know what to make of this. The deal was that Mae Frances would call from the airport when she landed and since their hotel was just about fifteen minutes away, that was when Jasmine would leave to pick her up.
Mae Frances had called, but she told Jasmine to stay right in place.
“I’ll get there, Jasmine Larson. Just wait at the hotel for me. Don’t go anywhere. Don’t go getting into any more trouble.”
She’d hung up before Jasmine could protest, but Jasmine couldn’t figure it out. It wasn’t like Mae Frances to cab it. When Jasmine had met her all those years ago, Mae Frances had been riding around in her own limousine—at least that’s what Jasmine had thought.
So she couldn’t help but wonder what Mae Frances was up to now. Maybe she was meeting one of her many Chicago connections. Maybe she was bringing someone who could really help them get out of this situation.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Jasmine whispered.
“What did you say?”
Jasmine glanced over her shoulder and was glad to see that Rachel had finally relaxed. Her feet were curled beneath her as she was tucked in the far side of the sofa, flipping through a magazine.
“Are you talking to yourself?” Rachel asked without even looking up. “I heard”—and now she glanced at Jasmine—“that’s the first sign of dementia. You know, the kind that comes with old age.”
“Ha ha,” Jasmine said, though there was no humor in her tone.
Rachel tossed the magazine onto the sofa table. “What’s got you all worked up?”
Jasmine’s eyebrows were arched high when she turned back to Rachel. “In case you haven’t heard, my friend was almost arrested today, and she’s being chased by thugs who want her to pay ten million dollars even though she hardly has a dime.”
Rachel grinned. “Your friend, huh?”
Jasmine shrugged. “Well, she’s not really a friend. But she’s a good kid.”
Rachel stood up and, with her hands on her hips, said, “I am so far away from being a kid.” Her neck twisted in her usual ghetto-fabulous way. “Just look at all of this.”
Jasmine couldn’t help but smile as she shook her head. “Good to see that you really are feeling better.”
Rachel shrugged. “What else can I do? I mean, I could be pacing the floor with you, or back in my room crying and wondering what’s going to happen to me and what’s going to happen to Lester. But I’ve learned that worrying ain’t gonna add a single hour to my life. At least, that’s what it says in Matthew.”
Jasmine grinned. “You? Quoting scripture?”
“How would you know? You wouldn’t recognize a scripture if you heard one.”
The knock stopped their banter and Jasmine rushed to the door, sure that it was her friend.
“Mae Frances,” she called out before she even opened the door. But then she stood frozen, gaping.
“Well, this is a first,” Hosea said. “My wife, speechless.”
“Hosea!” She jumped into his arms. “What are you doing here?”
“I told you I was coming.”
“But I thought you were on the last flight,” Jasmine said with her arms still gripping Hosea’s neck.
“Somebody didn’t get to the airport on time,” Mae Frances mumbled as she rolled her suitcase in behind him. “You know it was probably some black folks, thinking that United had a special CP schedule just for them. So there were two extra seats and Preacher Man got one of them.”
“Mae Frances!” Playfully, Jasmine shoved her husband aside so that she could hug her best friend. She couldn’t remember a time when she was happier to see two people.
“Rachel!”
It wasn’t until Hosea shouted out her name that Jasmine remembered that Rachel was in her room.
“Hey, Hosea,” she said, still standing off to the side as if she wasn’t sure how she’d be received.
Hosea let his garment bag slip off his arm. “How are you?” he asked, giving her a hug. “I thought you were with the police.”
“No.” She shook her head. “They let me go.” She faced Mae Frances. “The attorney that you sent over, he got me out.”
Mae Frances stood there, wrapped in her mink coat, with her arms folded as if she was waiting for more, and finally Rachel added, “Thank you.”
Mae Frances nodded her head slightly, but she didn’t break her stare. Rachel stood her ground, too. Looking Mae Frances up and down, up and down.
Jasmine sighed. She could feel it already. She was going to be in the middle of these two and the middle was not a good place to be.
But maybe this situation would have them on their best behavior. After all, that’s what happened with her and Rachel. Being hunted down by thugs made them fast friends.
“Where’s Lester?” Hosea asked.
“He was here, but had to get right back on a plane to Houston,” Rachel said, and then she explained the call that Lester had received.
“What? They’re gonna try to force him out over these bogus charges?”
“And I wasn’t even charged with anything,” Rachel said.
“Let me get Lester on the phone,” Hosea said.
“He probably hasn’t landed yet, but you can talk to my dad,” Rachel said, jotting down the number on the pad on the desk. “He’s at my house and probably knows a lot more about this.”
Shaking his head, Hosea said, “I’ll call from the bedroom.”
When they were alone, Jasmine said, “Mae Frances, so much has been going on.”
“I know; I told you I heard about how you two have been playing around and making a mess of things.”
“A mess?” Rachel snapped. “We haven’t been playing at anything. We’ve been working hard, trying to figure this whole thing out.”
“Well, whatever you’ve been doing, it’s still a mess.”
“And you think you could’ve done any better?” Rachel rolled her eyes.
It was the way Mae Frances took slow steps toward Rachel that made Jasmine hold her breath. Mae Frances may have been older, though she’d never told Jasmine her age. She could’ve been fifty, sixty, or seventy. But whatever she was, she wasn’t one to be played with and Jasmine was afraid Rachel was about to find that out.
“Let me tell you something, little girl. I could’ve done a whole lot better. If I’d been here, this whole thing would’ve been worked out already and your skeezer behind wouldn’t have ever been arrested—”
“Skeezer?”
“And you wouldn’t have needed the best attorney in Chicago that I got for you.”
“Who you calling a skeezer?”
“So, you better remember,” Mae Frances continued as if Rachel wasn’t shouting, “who you’re talking to.”
“All I know is that I’m nobody’s skeezer.” Rachel’s neck was twisting again. “And anyway, I’d rather be a skeezer than to have been at the parting of the Red Sea. What school did you and Moses go to, again?”
Mae Frances’s eyes narrowed, so much that Jasmine wasn’t sure if her friend could see anything. “Are you calling me old? Is that what you’re trying to say?”
“Both of y’all need to quit,” Jasmine hissed. “Come on, we’re on the same side, remember? We’re supposed to be working together.”
They stared each other down as if they were having a standoff at the O.K. Corral. But at least she’d quieted the two down. She just had to figure out how to get them to stay that way.
It was Hosea who broke their silence when he came out of the bedroom. “I spoke to your father, Rachel. Just like you said, Reverend and Cecelia King are behind this. They’re calling for Lester to step down and they want the board to vote tomorrow morning, though that’s not gonna happen.”
“It’s not?” Rachel asked.
Hosea shook his head. “They haven’t given all the board members enough time to get to Houston. There probably won’t be a quorum for them to take a vote for something this big.”
“Thank God!” Rachel said, before she plopped onto the couch.
“Yeah, but I still don’t like it,” Hosea said. “I have no idea what tricks Reverend King and his wife have up their sleeves. It’s clear they’re planning to take over the Coalition and that’s not gonna happen if I have anything to say about it.”
It was amazing—the way this might all turn out after all. Hosea might actually end up being the president of the American Baptist Coalition. But now, Jasmine wasn’t so sure that’s what she wanted. Not after all of this.
Hosea said, “I think I’m gonna head down to Houston.”
“Really?” Jasmine said, not trying to hide her disappointment. “But you just got here.”
“I know, and if I didn’t think that you were in good hands, I’d stay to make sure you and Rachel stayed out of trouble. But with Mae Frances here, I know you’ll be fine.”
Mae Frances gave Hosea that sweet smile that he was used to. That smile that completely had him fooled. That smile that made him believe she was just a little ole grandmother who only did good things.
Jasmine shook her head. If her husband only knew; she got into far more trouble with Mae Frances than without her.
“I’ll catch the first flight in the morning. That should put me there before the meeting at noon.” When Jasmine pouted, Hosea put his arms around her waist. “Don’t worry, baby, we still have tonight.”
When his lips brushed against her cheek, Jasmine shivered. “Uh, Rachel, don’t you want to go back to your room and . . . call your kids . . . or something?”
With a grin, Rachel nodded.
“And, Mae Frances,” Jasmine said, talking faster now, “you’re already checked in. Buddy took care of your room when he brought us back the rental car.”
“That’s good. But I think I’m gonna sit here for a little while. Rest a spell.”
Rachel grabbed Mae Frances’s roller bag. “I’ll help you get down to your room,” Rachel said and then she gave her a smile that was meant to be sweet, but showed nothing but her disdain.
“Naw, that’s okay,” Mae Frances said, crossing her legs as she leaned back on the sofa. “I’m good.”
“Mae Frances!” Jasmine and Rachel said at the same time.
The woman looked from Jasmine to Rachel, then her eyes settled on Hosea. “Oh! Oh, yeah!” she said as she pushed herself up. She snatched her suitcase from Rachel’s grasp.
Rachel said, “I told you, I got this.”
“What? You sayin’ that I’m old again? I can carry my own bags.”
“Ladies,” Hosea said, jumping in between them. “I’ll take the bag and escort both of you to your rooms.”
Mae Frances and Rachel stared at each other once again before they followed Hosea to the door. It was clear Jasmine and Rachel had made up, but it was just as clear that Mae Frances and Rachel were in a totally different place.
But right now, Jasmine didn’t care about either one of them. All she wanted to think about was her husband and the hours they had between now and the rising sun.
As Rachel and Mae Frances stepped into the hallway, Hosea turned
around and winked at his wife. “I’ll be right back,” he whispered.
Jasmine grinned. Oh, yeah! This was exactly what she needed. In the middle of this mess of a murder, she was about to get hers.
The moment the door closed behind them, Jasmine began stripping. There was no need to wait for Hosea to return. By the time he got back, she’d be good and naked and good and ready.
She couldn’t wait!
Chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
Barely fifteen minutes had passed since Hosea had left for the airport before the pounding on her door began. Jasmine zipped up her jeans before she dashed to the door.
“Are you finally up, Jasmine Larson?” Mae Frances barked as she marched into the room.
“I’ve been up all night.”
Mae Frances rolled her eyes. “Well, now that Preacher Man’s gone, you need to get your mind out of all of that sex and focus on the work we have to do.”
“Okay, let me call Rachel and we’ll tell you our plan.”
“Why we gotta work with her?” Mae Frances snarled. “I can only work with people I trust.”
“First of all, Mae Frances, you can trust Rachel. I told you, we’re . . . friends . . . now. And anyway, we wouldn’t be doing any of this if we weren’t trying to help Rachel, so she needs to be involved.”
“I can move faster without a snake slithering behind me.”
Jasmine sighed. “I’m gonna need you to shut all that negativity down,” she said.
“Whatever!”
Less than five minutes later, Rachel sauntered into Jasmine’s room, once again wearing her all-black ghetto ninja outfit, like she was once again on a spy mission.
This time, Jasmine didn’t laugh. But Mae Frances did. “Who do you think you are?” Mae Frances snarled. “Catwoman?”
“Look, old lady—”
“I got your old—”
“Can you two stop it?” Jasmine shouted, wondering if this is how she and Rachel used to sound. She hoped not. They were no better than her seven-year-old daughter and her friends. “We have work to do.”
They may have been silent, but that didn’t stop their death stares. That would have to do for right now.
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