Church Boyz 1 (Rod of the Wicked)

by H. H. Fowler

  “I’m not making excuses for him–”

  “Yes, you are, and it peeves the heck out of me – because of the way he’s treating you. You don’t deserve this. He must be out of his mind. Any man would kill to have a woman like you.”

  Somehow, Dominic’s words gave her the comfort she sought, and despite her efforts to hold her tears at bay, they trickled through the spaces between her fingers. “Dominic, I love him so much. I truly love my husband. I just don’t understand why he’s doing this to me. Every night, he comes home past midnight and says he’s been working late, but I know he’s not telling me the truth. We get into it and we argue all night. In the morning, he gets up and leaves before I wake…”

  Dominic clenched his teeth as he listened to Tayah pour out her heart to him. How had Tayah gotten herself hitched to a heartless prick like Phillip? She was so not his type. Her life was being wasted over that fool. And sitting, listening to the pain in her voice –the one woman who would have been the right fit for him, was pushing all of the wrong buttons in him. The way he felt at the moment, only the hands of God could stop him from clubbing Phillip upside the head.

  About twenty miles later, he eased his car to a stop in front of a two-story condominium. Everything was nicely manicured. He killed the engine, cracking open the windows. By that time, however, Tayah’s sobs had diminished to quiet sniffling.

  “I am so embarrassed,” she said. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “This is me, Tayah. You have nothing to be embarrassed about.”

  “You’re a good friend, Dominic, but I shouldn’t have burdened you with my problems like that.” She looked through the window, noticing that the space where she normally parked her car was empty. “He’s not even home.”

  “I’m not surprised. Do you want me to wait?”

  “Are you crazy? I don’t need to be caught in the middle of anything tonight. You know how Phillip feels about our friendship.”

  “Why did you marry him, Tayah? And I don’t believe it’s because you love him.”

  “What other reason is there? Please, don’t hurt your head over this one, Dominic. I’ll be fine.”

  “Really? Somehow, I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t have a choice,” Tayah told him.

  As soon as she disappeared behind the walls of her home, Dominic’s phone buzzed, indicating someone had just sent him a text. He didn’t recognize the number, but it was quite obvious who it was after he read the first line –

  Hi, gorgeous. I’m just apologizing for acting like a moron earlier. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. I pray you won’t hold this one against me. By the way, I’m a swim instructor. I was thinking, maybe I could make this up to you somehow…call me, boo.

  Boo? Trouble, trouble, trouble. That was the only thing that crossed Dominic’s mind as he joined the light traffic heading north to I-75. Spending time with A’moree was like a disaster waiting to happen. He loved his boy Sanchez, but as long as his sister stayed in his place, Sanchez wouldn’t be seeing much of Dominic.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Thursday Mid-Morning

  Abraham’s eyes popped open to the clamor of the phone, which sounded strikingly similar to his alarm clock. It was a noise he detested, but he’d chosen the ring tone for that very purpose – so that it would irritate him. If the noise had been pleasant, he would have kept on snoozing, paying it no mind. He grabbed up the phone, still incoherent from last night’s activities.

  “Abraham? Have you just gotten up? It’s almost ten o’clock.”

  “Lady Paxton, forgive me. What do you need me to do?”

  “Get dressed and pick me up in about an hour. There’s something that I need to discuss with you.”

  “Certainly, I’ll be there. Will your husband need me, as well?”

  “He’s left for the office already, said something about some guests coming in from the Bahamas. He tried reaching you. Are you okay?”

  “Yes, I’m fine.”

  “Well, okay then, I will see you in an hour.”

  Abraham didn’t like the tone in Michelle’s voice, which somehow took his nerves by surprise. She rarely called him to discuss anything. All of the discussing was done by Leroy, but lately, things had been volatile between those two and he had to wonder if this had anything to do with Shaniece Bryant. Of course, it did. It was the only reason why they fought. He pushed himself up in the bed and then tossed his feet to the floor, unintentionally removing the covers from the naked body next to him.

  “Abraham,” Honey’s voice dragged. “It’s cold. It’s cold…”

  “Shhhh, go back to sleep,” he told her, recovering her body as gently as he handled her. “I’ll be out for a few hours.”

  “Do what you want, Abraham, but I won’t be here when you get back.”

  “Then, I’ll come looking for you,” he said, “I am a persistent man.”

  She grunted. “Suit yourself. Why do you even try? You know that I don’t love you.”

  “It doesn’t matter. One day you will.” He leaned down over her and pressed his lips against her slender back, savoring the warmth of her skin. He felt torn leaving her alone, but his services were required elsewhere. He’d vowed to make his life available to the Paxtons. “While I’m gone, keep the doors locked and don’t let anyone in.”

  She yanked the covers over her head and pretended as if Abraham had given the walls those instructions.

  By the time that Abraham had pulled the Escalade in front of the grand mansion, Michelle was already standing outside with her purse on her left arm. She was smartly dressed in a navy blue pants suit, which she only wore when she was about to do business outside of town. Her ebony curls were pinned up into a messy, but stylish twist, leaving a few strands to float over her face. The Ray-Ban shades that were latched over her eyes told Abraham that she was a woman on a mission.

  “Where to?” he said to her after she’d climbed into the front seat.

  “Brandon,” was all she said.

  “As in Brandon, Florida?”

  “My dear Abraham, I didn’t stammer.”

  Once they’d cleared the traffic on Fletcher Avenue, cutting right to the Interstate, Michelle made her purpose known to Abraham.

  “Say nothing of this to Leroy,” she said. “Can I trust you to do that?”

  Abraham looked at her through the corner of his eyes, not certain how he should respond. If her safety appeared to be in jeopardy, of course, Leroy would be the first to know. “You can trust me,” he said quietly.

  “You’re such a wonderful, man, Abraham. How would we ever make it without you?”

  Abraham sidestepped the accolade with a question, “I assume this has to do with the ‘incident’?”

  She pressed her lips into a tight line and then said, “Yes. I know it’s almost been five years, but I still have a lot questions.” She took the hotel receipt out of her purse and held it up at Abraham. “I found this on the kitchen floor. Must have fallen out of his portfolio yesterday morning.”

  “What is it?”

  “A receipt from that Holiday Inn Express.”

  “What’s the significance? We both know Leroy is always in and out of hotels.”

  “So it seems…”

  “C’mon, is it worth torturing yourself this way?”

  “You don’t want to read it? Fine.” She stuffed the receipt back into her purse, snapping it shut. She pulled off her shades, revealing the eyes of a woman who’d had her share of pain. “My dear Abraham, the receipt is almost five years old. It is the exact date of the incident.”

  “It could mean anything.”

  “What is it with you men? You act as if we are so out of touch with reality. I don’t care what you interpret this to mean. My instincts tell me that this is not a coincidence.”

  “Things are not always what they seem–”

  “I’ve known Leroy for almost thirty years, and I’ve never seen him act this way before. He ref
uses to get rid of that woman as his assistant. He’s quick to take her side over mine, and would rather see me being humiliated Sunday after Sunday than to put an end to this wretched situation….”

  “Is this what this is all about? Your dislike of Shaniece?”

  “Oh please, don’t insult me, Abraham! You know exactly what’s going on. Those two are always in the corner chatting it up as if they can’t get enough of each other. And every time that I call, she’s always in his office. I can’t even bring her name up in a conversation without us having a brawl about it. And you think I’m being unreasonable or paranoid?”

  Abraham took the Brandon exit, which would take them right in front of the Sherriff’s Office. When they’d slowed to a traffic light, he turned his head toward her, “Lady Paxton, I care deeply for you and your husband. I fear that you will do something you will regret. Please, think about what you’re about to do.”

  “I’ve been doing that for the last five years. I’m surprised I’ve even waited this long. I’ve made up my mind, Abraham.” She looked away, readjusting her shades against her eyes. “I need to know why Leroy was in Brandon the day that I was in Chicago. It’s the place where our problems started.”

  Fifteen Minutes Later

  “Detective Samuels, how are you?” Michelle placed her delicate hand into the massive palms of a white man and immediately remembered how his handshake made her feel overpowered. “Thanks for receiving us on such short notice.”

  “Mrs. Paxton, you’re welcome as always. It’s an open door policy around here.” He noticed Abraham trailing several feet behind with a cell phone attached to his ear. He beckoned to him as soon as he got his attention. “Mr. Winder, come, follow me to my office.”

  The last time that Michelle had visited Detective Samuels, he’d told her that they’d come to a dead end in her husband’s case. There were no leads; no new information; no movement at all in the right direction. Five years was a long time. Her husband’s shooter could be anywhere at the moment, possibly six feet under the earth.

  “What can I do for you today?” Samuels plunged in his chair and then spread his hands before them.

  “I don’t know,” Michelle said, sharing a glance with Abraham. “Obviously, we’re here concerning my husband’s case.”

  Samuels shifted his eyes to Abraham and then back to Michelle. “Does your husband know that you’re here?”

  “No, he doesn’t know. We were in the area.”

  Michelle smiled and patted Abraham’s hand as if to say she was capable of handling whatever question was thrown out at her. “Thank you, Abraham, but that’s not entirely true, detective.”

  “Which part?” His expression showed he had no interest in a case that he considered to be as cold as the air in his freezer. “Mrs. Paxton, I'll be honest with you. There's no one actively working on your husband's files.”

  “But, you guys haven’t found the person who shot my husband,” Michelle said, taken aback by the detective’s nonchalant attitude. “What do you mean there's no one working on it?”

  “We review them once a month, but there's nothing to go on, Mrs. Paxton,” Samuels explained. “Your husband doesn’t remember much of anything and the only thing we have is a ballistics report on the gun that was used in the attack. You should be grateful your husband made it through that life-threatening ordeal.”

  “Of course, I’m grateful.” Michelle was beginning to regret the visit. “But just because he survived the gunshot, doesn’t mean his shooter should get away with it. Only God knows how many other people the attacker has hurt…”

  “What do you want us to do? Your husband wants nothing to do with the investigation, which I find pretty strange, but we've done all that we can with the little that we have. It's been five years. Whatever evidence we did not get collected in that first forty-eight hours, we sure won't be able to do so now.”

  “Someone had to have seen something,” Abraham said. “The ambulance wouldn't have responded as quickly as it did without someone giving the dispatcher the exact location. I understood they arrived on the scene within three minutes of the shooting.”

  “We have worked that angle back and forth,” Samuels said. “We came up empty handed. The call was made from a pay phone in the area.”

  Michelle searched her bag for the receipt she'd tried to show Abraham when they were on the interstate. “What do you make of this?” she asked Samuels, handing it to him. “I found this on my kitchen floor. It may have dropped out of my husband's portfolio…”

  Samuels slipped on his glasses, examined it and then looked back at her. “It's a hotel receipt.”

  “Yes, but did you notice the date on it?”

  “I did, but what's your point?”

  “Detective Samuels, this proves my husband had paid for a one night stay, several hours before his attack. He told us he'd gone to Brandon for a meeting that should have only lasted a few hours. He was scheduled to be home by 3 p.m. to pick up the boys from school. I was in Chicago around that time.”

  “So?”

  “So?” Michelle shot Samuels an exasperated look. “Obviously, you're not getting what I'm trying to say.”

  “Of course I get it, Mrs. Paxton,” Samuels told her. “Your husband lied to you. He lied to us and you're assuming he knows more about this ordeal than he's admitting.”

  “I don't know, but that's why we're here,” Michelle said, hoping Abraham shared her growing frustration.

  “Let's just say if there is a small chance you're right, without your husband's assistance, we'll still be going around in circles. For the past five years, his story has remained the same.” Samuels stood up, as if he were ready to end their meeting. “Before a police department pumps money into investigating cold cases, there must be some solvability factors in the playing field. I wouldn't normally suggest something like this, but another option is to hire a private investigator.”

  When Michelle looked to Abraham for his opinion, she could tell from the look in his eyes that he had already flushed the idea down the toilet. Leroy would not forgive Michelle if he discovered she'd hired someone to poke around in his personal life. Surely, it would be the end of their marriage.

  “Thanks for your time,” Abraham said as he stood up to shake Samuels' hand. “You've given us something to think about. After you, Lady Paxton.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Tayah tried to lose herself in her work so that she didn’t have to face her troubling thoughts. Her presentation was due later that afternoon and she was not feeling up to it. The only thing she wanted to do was hide from her problems, and crawl into a corner and feel sorry for herself. But she was not the type of person who pitied their circumstance. Her analytical brain wouldn’t allow her to settle for obscurity and confusion.

  She was the type who painstakingly examined every decision of her life, processing each step in hopes of producing a mental summation of why things were not working out as planned. Her approach generally worked, and she couldn’t remember having any major setbacks, but within the last three years of her marriage she’d been forced to eat her words – hook, line, and sinker. Now, everything around her seemed obscured and confused.

  Dominic’s words kept hammering at her brain, which now felt more of a torment than a feeling of comfort, “…it peeves the heck out of me over the way he’s treating you. You don’t deserve this. He must be out of his mind. Any man would kill to have a woman like you…”

  Any man would kill to have a woman like me, she repeated in her mind. What was Dominic implying? That she’d made the wrong decision in marrying Phillip? That he (Dominic) would have been the better choice? What made Dominic think his judgment was accurate? If he’d been so serious about his love for her, why hadn’t he asked her to marry him when he’d had the opportunity? Now all of a sudden he was ‘peeved’ over the way her husband appeared to be treating her. That alone told her Dominic was not ready to handle her. He couldn’t make up his mind, which she couldn’t d
eal with in a man. She couldn’t tell if she was angry at herself or angry at Dominic for not telling her how strongly he felt before Phillip’s proposal.

  “Excuse me, Tayah Benjamin?”

  Tayah snapped her head up from her laptop, setting her eyes on a man holding a huge arrangement of white lilies. “Aren’t those supposed to go to the hospital?” she asked, bringing to mind the festival’s keynote speaker who was in critical condition at Tampa General. But then she thought, she’d ordered roses, not lilies.

  “It says delivery for Tayah Benjamin. Where do you want me to put them?”

  “I’m sorry,” she said, indicating a spot on her desk. “You can put them here.”

  “Okie dokie put your Jane Henry on this line and I’ll be on my way…”

  Jane Henry? Tayah thought. Wasn’t it John Henry? Was he trying to be funny? She scribbled her name, giving in to her curiosity. Who would send me flowers at two o’clock in the afternoon? And not just any flowers, but the expensive kind, the kind that only needed one word to describe them. Exquisite…

  “Thank you,” she whispered, as the deliveryman backed out of her office.

  She took the card from its plastic holder, supposing the flowers must be from her husband. His way of saying he was sorry. They'd had another hurtful exchange last night after he'd crawled into the bed next to her, giving her some lame excuse about why he'd forgotten to pick her up at the church.

  They'd gone to bed angry, and they'd gotten up this morning, refusing to speak to each other – something her grandmother would certainly look down upon. Husband and wife should never go to bed upset with each other, she would say. One never knew where death was, which served as a warning to those who refused to make peace before it was too late.

  Last night was an exception, Tayah thought, as she bent to smell the lilies, thinking the least Philip could have done was to stop by on his lunch break and apologize in person.

  The card read: “Just Because…”