And stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.
Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself saying, This man, if he were a prophet would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner.”
Isaac lifted his eyes from the Bible and told his congregation, “This is a typical response that most church folks have when people who are not Bible toting scholars come into the house of God. They decide which sin is worthy of forgiveness and which is not, without asking God what He thinks. But if we go down to verse forty, I’ll show you what the Lord thinks.” He bent his head and began to read again.
“And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he saith, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most?
Simon answered and said, I suppose the one to whom he forgave most.”
Isaac looked at the congregation and said, “The one who was forgiven the most, loved God the most. How about it? Is there anybody out there that has messed up so bad that you could never earn enough money to pay your debt? What if Jesus decided to pay the debt for you? Would you accept his free gift or would you walk away as if the Lord had done nothing at all for you?”
Isaac’s sermon continued for about ten minutes. He implored his listeners to give God a try; to trust the Lord with all their baggage. By the time he finished and made a call for all who wished to come to Jesus and leave his or her sins behind, twenty people stood at the altar. Not only were women at the altar crying, but grown men were crying and declaring their love for the Lord also. Ron Holmes had been one of the men standing at the altar with tears streaming down his face.
Isaac felt like walking on water when he entered his office after service. He took off his preaching robe and hung it in the closet, then he walked over to his leather couch to lay down and bask in the glory of what God had done this evening.
Just as he was sinking into the softness of his cushion and about to say, “Aaah,” his door swung open and Deacon Harris ran in. Deacon Martin Harris was a portly man who’d never met a burger he didn’t enjoy. But he’d also never entertained the thought of getting on a treadmill to shed some of the pounds all that good eating blessed him with. Consequently, running to Isaac’s office left him out of breath. He bent down with his hands touching his knees and his oversized backside in the air and panted for air.
Isaac jumped off the couch and asked, “What’s going on, Deacon Harris? What’s the problem?”
Still panting, Deacon Harris managed to raise himself to an upright position as he said, “We need you out front, Pastor.” Unable to move himself one step further, the deacon pointed to the front of the sanctuary. “Just outside the front door… Johnny is waiting on you out there.”
Isaac left Deacon Harris in his office and walked toward the front of the sanctuary. When he reached his destination, he noticed a group of people standing outside staring down at something that was on the ground. Isaac opened the front door and stepped outside. As he turned his eyes in the direction that seemed to be holding everyone’s attention, he too became mesmerized.
The body of Clarence Mason was on the ground, propped up against the wall next to the front door. He had a bullet hole in his forehead and a piece of paper taped to the front of his tan polo shirt. The note read, ‘We don’t like thieves, do we, Pastor Walker’?”
Isaac turned to Johnny and asked, “Who would do something like this?”
“I have no clue. In all my years on the police force I have never seen anything as bold as this,” Johnny told Isaac. He then turned to the people standing around the dead body and told them, “Okay everyone, we’re going to have to ask you to leave. This is a crime scene now and the homicide detectives are on their way here.”
The crowd began to disburse. Isaac went back into his office. Nina came in behind him with her arms folded and a horror stricken look on her face. “What’s going on, Isaac?”
He was too stunned to answer. And even if he wasn’t in a state of shock, he wouldn’t have been able to explain this unthinkable act. What type of person would be sick enough to kill a man and leave him on the church steps with a note pinned to his chest?
And what about that note? ‘We don’t like thieves, do we, Pastor Walker?’ Why did this madman leave a note for him on a dead body?
Nina pressed him. “Isaac, do you remember our conversation last night?”
“You’re pregnant. Of course I know what we discussed last night. What does that have to do with what just happened here?”
Nina began wagging her finger in his face. “I told you I couldn’t do this alone. I begged you not to get involved in anything that would bring harm to this family.”
“Nina, how is this my fault?” Isaac asked exasperated.
“This type of stuff just seems to follow you around.” Nina began to cry as she continued wailing at Isaac, “How could you let this happen? Why is this happening to us – now?”
Isaac hugged his wife. He gently stroked her back and said, “I don’t know why this happened, baby. But I didn’t do anything.” He stepped back from her and looked in her eyes. “Please believe me, Nina. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize spending the rest of my life with you and our new baby. And do you really think that God would finally allow you to conceive, just to take me away from you?”
Nina calmed herself, then as she wiped the tears from her face she said, “Okay, Pastor Walker. Just don’t get involved in this. Let the police take care of it.”
“That’s exactly what I intend to do. The only thing I have to do is call Iona.” When Nina gave him a questioning look as she sat down on the couch he told her, “Clarence was her client. She needs to know what happened to him.”
This was Wednesday night, and the church had Bible study. So, as a member of the House of God Christian Fellowship, Iona should have been in attendance. But she hadn’t attended a Wednesday night Bible study in years. Iona was a Sunday go-to-meeting type of worshiper, and it hurt Isaac every time he had to admit that fact to himself.
Iona’s phone rang twice before she picked up. “Hey, Daddy, what’s up?”
“Clarence just turned up, Baby Girl.”
Her voice had an excited lilt to it as she asked, “Are you kidding me? No, of course you’re not kidding.” She answered her own question and then asked, “Did he come to church? How was he acting? Like nothing happened and he hadn’t caused any problems I bet.”
“Iona, Clarence is dead.”
She gasped.
Isaac continued, “Someone dumped his body at the church during Bible study. I just thought you should know since he was your client.”
“Y-yeah, s-sure, Dad. Thanks for telling me,” she managed to stammer out.
“Do you need to come down here?” Isaac asked.
“How did he die?” Iona wanted to know.
“He was shot in the head.” He heard Iona gasp. He didn’t want to further shock her, but he had to tell her the whole story. “There was a note pinned to his shirt. It said, ‘We don’t like thieves, do we Pastor Walker?’”
“What? Why would somebody leave a note like that on a dead man?”
“I wish I knew,” he told her.
There was a knock at his office door. Nina walked over to the door to open it, and in walked Johnny with two men behind him.
Isaac ended his call as Nina was asking, “What can we do for you?”
“These men are homicide detectives out of my precinct.” Johnny pointed to a tall, thin white man with curly, blonde hair and said, “This is Alex Matthews.” He turned in the direction of the shorter, bald, black man and said, “This is Malcolm Gordon. They want to ask you a few ques
tions.”
Isaac offered them a seat and then told the detectives everything he knew about the situation, which wasn’t much. When he was done, Detective Gordon asked Isaac, “And you don’t have any idea why this maniac is doing this?”
Isaac shook his head. “I have no idea at all.”
“Well, what’s this problem you have with thieves?” the other detective asked Isaac.
“I don’t have a problem with anyone, officer. I try to treat everyone the same, and I help the people that go astray.”
“What type of firearms do you own?” Detective Matthews asked.
“I don’t,” Isaac said.
Gordon asked, “When’s the last time you had a gun in your possession, whether you borrowed it or whatever?”
“Hold up a minute,” Johnny said. “Pastor Walker had nothing to do with this. Your questions are way off base.”
“Let us do our job, Johnny,” Detective Gordon admonished. He then turned back to Isaac. “We are not accusing you of anything, Pastor Walker. We’re just trying to get all the facts straight.”
Isaac nodded and then told him, “I haven’t had a gun in my possession in almost twenty years. I rely on the Lord to protect me now. I left all that other stuff alone a long time ago.”
The detectives rose. “Thanks for the information, Pastor Walker. We’ll be in touch if we need anything further.”
“Thank you. And if I think of anything else, I’ll let you know,” Isaac told them.
“You do that,” Detective Gordon said as they exited the room.
Chapter 14
Iona sat behind her desk and called the assistant district attorney’s office. When Jerome, or JL as he preferred to be called, picked up the phone, Iona told him the awful news concerning Clarence. JL had been the prosecutor on the case and Iona thought she should let him know that he wouldn’t be getting a starring role on the nightly news based on the Clarence Mason case.
JL seemed to take the news pretty well. He managed to gloss over the dead body between them and turned it into a win-win situation for himself. “You know, Iona, since we are no longer opposing each other, why don’t we work together?”
“How can we work together JL? You’re a prosecutor and I’m a defense attorney.”
“I’m not talking about the courtroom.”
“What exactly are you talking about then?”
“Come on, Iona. You know I want to take you out. I’ve been giving you signals every time I run into you. Why won’t you give a brother a try?”
Was JL a brother? Iona thought he was just a deeply tanned white man. But maybe that assessment was unkind. JL was an Assistant District Attorney on the fast track to becoming the District Attorney and then a Judge, so maybe he had to be stiff and guarded when in the public eye.
“I don’t know JL, I’ve never thought about you in that way.”
“Fair enough. But why don’t you let me take you out to dinner and see if I can change your mind?”
Iona picked up a pencil and tap, tap, tapped it on her desk as she thought about this. But the more she tried to imagine JL as her man, images of Johnny kept coming to mind. Iona was drained. This past week had worn her out. “I’ll tell you what. Let me think about it, and I’ll let you know. Okay?”
“I can live with that. I’ll get back with you next week.”
“All right, I’ll talk to you later.” She hung up the phone and picked her mug up off her desk and walked out of her office to get coffee. She stopped just outside her door and almost dropped her mug at the sight of Vivian sitting behind her desk. “What are you doing here? You were just attacked on Tuesday and released from the hospital yesterday. I specifically told you to take the rest of the week off.”
“I watched the news last night, Iona. So, I know that Clarence is dead. All night long I kept imagining that psycho sneaking into my apartment and finishing the job he started on me. I had to get out of there.” Vivian told her.
“You’re a martial arts expert, Vivian. If someone breaks into your house, break his arm.”
Pure terror swept across Vivian’s face at the mention of someone breaking in on her. “That’s just it, Iona. I know how to defend myself, but this guy was still able to sneak in my house and knock me out. Things like that just make you realize that you’re not invincible after all.”
“Look, if you’re really worried about someone coming back to your place, why don’t you come stay with me for a little while?”
“Thanks for the offer, but my mom and dad are moving my stuff out of my apartment as we speak. I’m going to stay with them until I feel comfortable enough to move out on my own again.”
Iona walked around the desk and gave Vivian a hug. Vivian leaned into her friend as Iona said, “Don’t worry, you’ll get your footing back.”
“I sure hope so. Because I don’t know how long I can last under the same roof with my father.”
Iona ended their embrace and then asked, “What’s going on with you and your father? He seemed a bit upset with you the other day.”
“He’s been upset since the doctor told him I was a girl.” Vivian waved her hand in the air and shook her head. “Anyway, now you don’t have to worry about things not getting handled in the office tomorrow when you leave for Chicago.”
Now Iona needed a hug. She had tried not to think about her trip back to Chicago and her mother’s illness. She went to the coffee pot and poured coffee into her mug. Neil Morgan, the law firm’s private investigator, came over to her with a file in his hand.
“What’s up, Neil?” she asked while stirring some cream and sugar into her coffee.
He laughed, and Iona got the distinct impression that he was laughing at her as he held up a file and she read the name on it.
“Where do you get your clients from? I mean really, Iona. Do you take an ad out in Criminals R Us or what?”
She grabbed the file out of his hand and rolled her eyes. She hated working with Neil, but unless she was going to pay for investigations out of her own pocket, she had to use the company jerk boy. That was his name as far as Iona was concerned; Neil the jerk boy.
“Let’s discuss this in my office,” she said while walking back to her office. Neil would love to tell her all the misdeeds of her clients in the coffee area for any and everyone to walk by and hear, but Iona wasn’t having it.
She sat down behind her desk and invited Neil to take one of the chairs in front of her desk. The name on the file was Joey McDaniels. Iona was very familiar with this case. Joey had been a big time drug dealer who had flunked Drug Dealing 101; don’t get high on your own supply. Short on cash and in line for a bullet in the head if he didn’t come up with the money he owed some Detroit hustlers, Joey stuck up a crack house. During the commission of the crime, Joey shot the drug dealing house sitter. The dealer later died after a week in intensive care.
“His finger prints are not only on the murder weapon,” Neil told Iona, “they’re all over the front entrance of that crack house and two of the crack heads in the house put down their pipes long enough to positively ID Joey as the shooter. Your boy is going down.”
Iona rolled her eyes. She only took this case as a favor to her father. Once again, Isaac Walker was on the salvation war path. She’d seen Joey walk down the aisle and give his life to the Lord at her father’s church a couple of weeks ago. As Joey walked toward salvation, Iona remembered how her father begged her to help Joey with his criminal case. Joey reminded Isaac of someone he should have helped when he was younger. But her father admitted that he’d turned his back on a friend.
“Why do you keep taking on these losers when you know you can’t possibly win?” Neil asked.
I’m going to wipe away my father’s guilt with this case. When we help Joey, my father can stop thinking about the friend he neglected to help in his younger days, Iona thought as she took the file out of Neil’s hand. “I’m sure that people thought the same thing about Johnny Cochran and F. Lee Bailey.”
Neil smirked. “Do you consider yourself a Cochran or a Bailey?”
“You’re a non-believer? Well, watch me work, Doubting Thomas. When I’m done with this case, that smirk on your face will be turned into respect. And you know what else, Neil? I won’t even make you grovel for work when I open my own law firm off of these loser cases of mine.”
Neil stood and held up his hands. “Look, you don’t have to get uptight. I’m just saying that you’ve got a long way to go before you can claim you’re just as good as the defense attorneys you named.”
Iona just stared at him.
Neil walked backward toward the door. “Well, I gave you the information you needed. If you have any other cases you need me to look into, just let me know.”
Iona couldn’t stand the little weasel, but in truth, she did need him to look into something else for her. “Wait, Neil, I do need you.”
The smirk returned to his face as he strutted back into her office. “What can I do for you?”
Iona handed him the file she had been reviewing on Clarence Mason. “I need you to check out his story.”
Neil briefly looked over the file and then he turned to Iona with a questioning glance. “Didn’t this man get killed last night?”
“Yes, but something doesn’t sit right with me on this one. When he was arrested, he claimed that he didn’t have his car that day. He said that someone had borrowed it, but he wouldn’t tell the police who that person was. I want you to find out.”
“Come on, Iona, what do you think he would say?”
“You might be correct. Clarence could have lied, but I want to know for sure. Can you check on it, or do I need to find someone else to handle this?”
Neil clung onto the file. “I can take care of it. I’ll get back with you next week,” he told her and then walked out of her office.
Now that Clarence was dead, Iona felt guilty about not believing him. What if someone else did borrow his car? And what if he tried to protect that person and then got murdered because he was going to tell her the truth during their meeting yesterday.
Through the Storm Page 9