The Devil Made Me Do It

by Colette R. Harrell

  Roger sat in the bus depot in front of Esther’s building. He frowned as he saw the same police officer from the previous week skip down the front steps. He cursed his displeasure. “What the heck is he doing here, again?”

  He pulled his hood over his head and scooted down the worn bench in the opposite direction. Quickly, he picked up a discarded newspaper and peered over it as he ambled down the street. As he camouflaged his exit his chest felt on fire. The burning was becoming unbearable, and he had not slept. When he did sleep, his dreams were of Esther cringing in fear from him, begging him to take her back. In his warmest visions he never showed her mercy. Instead, he watched the blood drain slowly from her face. Roger thrust the visions away from him. He had to make it home before the landlord did his weekly evening rounds. The deadbolt lock he stole had done the trick and had kept the landlord out. The problem was he had to get inside before he ran into the old geezer. He still didn’t have his rent. He did have a plan. Soon, Esther would take care of his cash flow issues.

  Hours later, night descended. Outside, a short distance away from the stench of Roger’s apartment, garbage trucks could be heard removing the refuse of wasted lives on a street that was a way station for the lost and tormented. As Roger turned in his slumber, his dreams were those of lust, greed, and revenge. Flies flew around his unshaven face, and his roughened hand swatted them away. His snores batted out loud rumblings from the awakening sounds of morning and were interspersed with an incoherent mumbling of his obsession. “Esther.”

  “Well, Imp One, you seem to be lining things up quite nicely,” The Leader reviewed Imp One’s latest log entries.

  “Yessss . . . Leader; I am using finesse to destroy them all. I feel it is a much-better move to yank happiness away then to never know it. Let Esther feel joy, and then steal it—that’s my plan. It worked so well when she wanted to be Cinderella. And, then again, when she fell in love with Briggs. She faltered for years after each event. Let history repeat itself,” Imp One bowed in humble regard.

  The Leader stood on his tail. “And I like that. You may leave me now, but continue to stay on top of things. I grow tired of training new help.”

  Imp One scurried out of The Leader’s sight without answering. He hated The Leader, hated his assignment, and even more, he hated this place. There were times when he had glimpses of others lives and the peace called to him. But the feeling was fleeting. He remembered once trying to rub against the silkiness of perfumed hair as a faint voice sang of love, but there was a hedge of protection and he could not connect. In the past, he would concentrate on the song and try to make out the words, but he could only make out, “For the # tells me so.” No matter how hard he concentrated, the middle word was always garbled, and then he would feel hot, searing fire across his face and chest. Over time, he had learned to let the thoughts and memories go. Somehow, he felt he was better off without them.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Briggs met with Reverend Gregory at noon and received all the keys to the church building. Keys meant power; they also meant accountability. It was official, Briggs was in charge. The problem with being in charge of the church was that he felt out of control in his life. He heard another minister call it leading while bleeding. He felt the supernatural movement of God on Sunday was His way of letting him know he was called.

  Briggs pulled the car over and pulled out his phone. As he tapped numbers, he hoped his day would take a turn for the better.

  “Hello?” a strong male voice answered.

  “What’s happening, man? This is Briggs; I was hoping you were free to maybe show me some Motor City sites today or even pick up a game of basketball. Afterward, we can catch something to eat.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Charles responded.

  “Why don’t I swing by there in about an hour?” Briggs maneuvered the car into traffic.

  Across town, Lawton opened the door for Esther to enter the restaurant. The place resembled a cathedral with its high beamed ceilings and stained glass windows. It was close to her home, had good food, and was popular. Her five-thirty suggestion allowed them to beat the crowd.

  “Thank you, kind sir,” Esther flirted.

  Lawton grinned in approval at Esther’s lighthearted mood. “You’re welcome.”

  A hostess escorted them to their table, and when the waiter came, they helped each other choose their meals. The pair continued their upbeat conversation, soon turning their chatter to family members and family stories.

  Lawton’s laugh was hearty as the waiter placed his plate of crab cakes in front of him.

  Esther howled as Lawton shared more stories about his family. “Please tell me more. Your grandmother sounds like a lot of fun. A straight shooter, but fun.”

  “Okay, let’s see now . . . how about instead, I let you get to know her husband, my grandpa Larry? Here’s an old story the family tells. Grandpa went to meet my uncle Langston’s ship when he came home from the navy. Oh, they were so proud of him. But it was Grandpa who was the proudest. So, here comes Unc’ off the ship, and he and Grandpa hug and laugh like they crazy. When they let go and turn to leave, Grandpa notices that Unc’ is walking, leaning sideways, like he’s about to fall off the path.” Lawton sipped his water. “Grandpa asks, ‘Boy, why you walking like that?’ Unc’ says, ‘’Cause, I been on that there ship tossing and turning in the ocean for three years, Daddy. So, I don’ learned to adjust.’” Lawton paused, and then brought the joke home. “Grandpa replied, ‘Adjust? Boy, I been married to your mama for pert near thirty-five years, don’ had twelve children wit’ the woman. You don’t see me walking like this.’” Lawton lifted from his chair and pantomimed a pumping motion with his body.

  Esther sputtered out her drink laughing hard. She was wiping her eyes, when she said, “You betta stay saved, boy!”

  “Grandpa Larry was a pastor,” Lawton said with an earnest look on his face.

  She looked surprised, and then they both fell out laughing again. Esther hadn’t dated much so she didn’t have a lot to compare it to. But, she was having an amazing time with Lawton.

  Later, he was paying the check when she made a decision. “Would you like to come over for coffee or tea?”

  “Is that anything like being invited up to see your etchings?” he teased.

  Esther grabbed her purse and hit him with it lightly. “Now, you know I mean just coffee, tea, but none of me.”

  He guided her toward the exit. “Man, and here I am needing a caffeine fix.”

  “Well, you’re welcome to stop at Starbuck’s.”

  He bent over holding his stomach as he cracked up. While his head was down a pair of expensive wing tips stepped into his line of vision.

  Esther was flustered to see Briggs and her brother-in-law, Charles, entering the restaurant. “Oh, my goodness, how’re you guys doing?”

  Charles hugged her. “My favorite little sister. Girl, you guys were laughing so loud, I want to know what all the ruckus is about.”

  “Shush, you can’t talk about loud. Let me introduce you. Lawton, this is my brother-in-law, Charles, and my friend and pastor, Briggs Stokes. Hello, Briggs.”

  Lawton greeted both men. “Charles, it’s good to meet you. Briggs and I have already had the privilege of meeting.”

  “And here you are again.” Briggs gave him the “what’s up” head nod.

  Lawton returned a stiff smile. Esther felt the tension between the two men. In the awkwardness of the moment, she concentrated on arranging her pashmina scarf.

  Charles turned to Lawton. “Good to meet you. We’ll let you get back to your date . . . uh, I mean . . . yeah, bye.”

  Lawton shook his hand, amused at his discomfort. “Great meeting you too, Charles.”

  He then nodded his head toward Briggs. “The food here is the best I’ve ever eaten, or maybe it’s just the company. In any case, enjoy your meal.”

  Briggs and Charles smiled in answer and walked by.

  Esther placed her hand on
her hip and arched her eyebrow. “Is this going to spoil our evening?”

  Lawton took her hand off her hip and placed it on his arm. “No, I wouldn’t let anything spoil tonight. I’m having a great time.”

  “Me too,” although, the truth was, she was straining to concentrate on the rest of her date and ignore her curiosity that Briggs’s wife was still absent. And now he’s hanging out with Charles?

  “I’m glad the restaurant is so close to your house.” Lawton relaxed and beamed at her.

  “What house? I thought you wanted to go to Starbuck’s?” Esther tossed out as she walked off into the night.

  As a customer opened the restaurant door, the sound of Lawton’s loud, happy laughter could be heard inside of the restaurant where Briggs and Charles waited for a table.

  Esther and Lawton sat on her couch sipping coffee. Soft lighting illuminated the atmosphere, creating a warm and inviting glow. It allowed her to sneak glances at Lawton on the sly.

  In return, he scrutinized her in blatant appreciation. When she rose to refill his cup, he stomped his foot three times on the floor as he observed her hynotpic sway to a hidden rhythm all her own. “Girl, you are putting a hurting on a brother. Uh, uh, uh.”

  Esther’s grin widened and with a mischievous gleam she stopped, curtsied, and twirled.

  He laughed in obvious pleasure, “And you’re entertaining too.” She made a silly face, and his laughter dwindled. His demeanor transformed to one of wonder. “I have had a wonderful time tonight. You are so beautiful, girl; inside and out. You are a good thing.”

  Flustered, Esther fanned the napkins forgetting to hand him one. “Um, you sure have a way of speaking your mind.”

  He gave her a smoldering look. “It saves time and misunderstandings. What I wanted to ask is, if you don’t mind, I would like to pursue you.”

  “Pursue me?” Her hands twisted the napkins, shredding them.

  He was gentle as he removed the napkins out of her hands. “Yes, pursue you, woo you, and then, God willing, keep you.”

  Her cheeks flooded with color. “Lord, Jesus. You can’t be serious—after one date?”

  Lawton pulled Esther into his arms. “I don’t believe in starting something we can’t finish. So you think about it. I’ll be in contact.” He hugged her in a tender caress and released her. He then headed toward her front door. “By the way, my father knew he was going to marry my mother the first time he saw her. That was before their first date. And my grandfather who had twelve children? Well, he started the trend.” Lawton winked at Esther. “I’ll see myself out.”

  Esther remained seated on the couch for the next half hour, too dazed to move.

  At the restaurant, it took over forty-five minutes for Briggs and Charles to get a table. Crowded for a weeknight, they talked sports until they were seated.

  Charles looked at Briggs over his menu. “You know you got it bad, right?”

  Briggs didn’t pretend to misunderstand him. “I do not have it bad, but if I did have it bad, I don’t have the right to have it bad. I’m married, Charles,” Briggs scanned his menu, wary of the conversation’s direction. “The fried catfish sounds good.” He couldn’t help adding, “She looked good, didn’t she?”

  “See? You couldn’t keep your eyes off of her at dinner on Sunday or tonight. And I know you’re just getting to know me. And you’re a pastor, and you can tell me to mind my own business. But I love that girl as if she was my own flesh and blood. I mean no disrespect, but you have an itch, son. And you need to go get your wife to scratch it.”

  Briggs sat quiet for so long that Charles felt bad he had butted in where he wasn’t wanted. After all, they had just met, and maybe it didn’t matter that they had connected so well. What he really wanted to know was where Briggs’s wife was while he was here in Detroit.

  Charles had not intended to offend. “Man, I’m sorry. I was out of line. I . . .”

  Briggs shook his head for Charles to let it go. “First, it’s not like me to talk to strangers. I’m a very private person. Mother Reed had me spilling all of my business to her. I understood that. It was a move of God. I do feel a spiritual connection with you, and a brother’s bond . . . although you shoot hoops like a girl,” Briggs said and laughed.

  Charles scowled. “You wish. I was easy on you, being a pastor and all.”

  Briggs smiled, and then he blew heavily and sat back. He closed, then opened his eyes. “Okay, maybe talking it out man to man versus man to spiritual father will give me another perspective. My wife, Monica, is in Atlanta avoiding me. It’s a game she’s played before. Monica likes to play games. She hated the idea of me coming here and getting a temporary church.”

  Charles sat in contemplation. “Man, that’s deep. I appreciate your openness, and I will respect your confidence. I haven’t been in your situation, but I can’t imagine not fixing this face to face. You should go home, Briggs.”

  Briggs pulled a plane ticket out of his pocket and laid it on the table. “Already on it. I guess my pride was prohibiting me from doing it before. I’ve run behind her for so long, I just got tired. I have prayed about it, and I feel God is telling me that I’ll find answers when I get there.”

  “Why don’t we pray in agreement right here and now, that you stay in God’s will concerning your marriage?” Charles said, giving him the dap handshake.

  They bowed their heads and prayed in silence.

  Briggs’s eyes glistened. “I tell you, Charles, first Mother Reed, and now you. Whew . . . what’s in the water here in Detroit? I’ve never talked so much about my personal life or felt lighter because of it.”

  “We care,” Charles said. “I don’t make new friends without due consideration; I’m a deliberate man. As a structural engineer, I’m methodical. But, there has to be somebody you can be yourself around. As a pastor, the pedestal is so high up, it can get pretty lonely. I got you, my brother. And I believe that whatever you find waiting for you in Atlanta, God will be in control.”

  “Amen. Man, I’m so glad we hooked up,” Briggs told Charles as the waitress approached for their order. “You should be happy too. Because, next time, I’ll teach you how to make that jump shot.”

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Esther was startled by the midnight ringing of her phone. She was cautious when she answered. “Yes?”

  “Ms. Esther, this is Simone. I’m sorry for calling you so late, but I’ve been struggling all night with telling you something. And I just have to do it now. I’ve chickened out too many times before. Please don’t be mad at me.”

  Esther’s sigh was loud at hearing Simone’s dramatic plea. “Go on, Simone. It must be important to you to wake me up at this hour. What do you need? You want to take more time off?” Simone had taken two leaves of absence in the past.

  “No. See, you try to look out for somebody and they try to act like they doing you a favor . . .”

  “Simone—please, what is it? It’s too late for this nonsense.” Esther was irritated and sleepy.

  Simone said in a frantic rush, “They got it in for you.”

  “Who is they?”

  “John and his people. I swear I didn’t know they were stealing money, but they were . . .”

  Stunned, Esther moved from the bed to her vanity chair. “What money are you talking about?”

  “The housing grant money. It started with John overcharging the agency for work that he had his bootlegged friends perform. The money then got split between them. Somehow, some real lowlifes got wind of the scheme and decided to take it even further and add substandard merchandise to the table. Everybody’s been getting paid.”

  “But, Max, in housing quality control, is supposed to sign off that the work is up to standard. And I checked the vendor bids myself. We picked only those who met the requirements and had the best bids.”

  “Max’s wife left him, and he’s paying child support, alimony, and has a new young girlfriend. He signs off; they kick back. The scam is in from the beginni
ng. They use dummy businesses and put in sky-high bids, so that their bids look good.”

  “But the Request For Proposals went out in the classifieds and other correspondence,” Esther felt weak in her stomach at the scandal that this would cause.

  Simone became even more agitated. “Stop trying to look for a way this couldn’t have happened. It happened. The Requests For Proposals never saw the light of day. The copies you see in the grant file are from years ago. The dates have all been doctored. I’m telling you, I have done my homework. It’s bad—real bad.”

  “And you’re just letting me know? Simone, I trusted you.”

  Simone began to whimper as though she was in physical pain. “But I only found out something was wrong a few days ago and confirmed it today. John was in the office earlier, and I knew my suspensions were justified when he kept trying to see the new bid folder. When you opened the door, he took off down the hall. I was going to bring up my concerns, but you were so busy chastising me about my office decorum that the moment passed.”

  “Are you for real? This is fraud—something way bigger than your hurt feelings,” Esther shrieked, biting her nails, a habit she had stopped in her teens. “How did you figure it out?”

  Simone, her voice etched with pride, said, “Well, ever since you moved everything dealing with housing to our offices, all related paperwork crosses my desk. For example, I collect the vendor bids on projects, put them in priority order by job, and then place them in your box for your review.” Simone finally paused to breathe.

  “Go on,” Esther encouraged.

  “When I was placing the latest faxes in your bin, I noticed that at the top of the page, several had the same fax numbers. I thought that, in error, I had made duplicate copies. But I cross-referenced them, and they were different companies’ bids. I then pulled out all the bids from the last six months, and no matter the name of the company, the same three fax numbers were used, time and time again,” Simone ended in triumph.