Like Sheep Gone Astray (42 page)

“My father left us with nothing.”

“Wouldn't surprise me, crooked devil like that. Probably put all the money somewhere trying to figure out what to do next. You know, there were two things people used to talk about before it all simmered down.”

“What's that?” Anthony turned around as the screen door squeaked open. Walter was coming back in, a steady smile on his face. Anthony held up a finger as he turned his attention back to the phone.

“Well, first, couldn't nobody get the story of Kofi's death right. We always heard that he was found on some train tracks up north somewhere back in the mid-seventies. The police never figured out if he stood there himself or if somebody pushed him, or so the story goes. And the other mystery nobody could agree on was whether or not he had a partner. If he did, I don't know how much that partner benefited from the scam. Kofi disappeared too fast. What was that, honey?” Hazel turned away from the phone.

“Sorry, Anthony. My husband just walked in and heard me talking. He said there used to be talk about a partner that Kofi did wrong by, a man from Georgia named—say it again,” she paused. “Wonj—, no, Wayn—, no—Henry, get on this phone and say that name, please.” There were some fumbling noises and fussing as Anthony heard the phone exchange hands.

“I got it, woman. Will you let go?” There was more fumbling until the man's voice, scratchy and slow, spoke loudly into Anthony's ear.

“Wanjala Razi. The partner Kofi supposedly stiffed was named Wanjala Razi. Don't know what his real name was. His momma probably named him William, or Wade, or Walter, or something real simple like that. Yep, they had all of us fooled. Here, Hazel, take this phone. I gotta go get the…” His voice faded into the distance before the line went dead.

Anthony felt the blood draining from his face as he eased the handset back into the base.

“Is everything all right?” Walter looked concerned as he studied Anthony's face. “Who were you just talking to?”

“Uh,” Anthony looked around the sparse living room. He did not know where he was, and now he was not sure he knew why he was there. “I was just checking my messages and returning phone calls.”

“Anything interesting? Anything related to our difficulties?” Walter flashed a warm smile as he offered Anthony a paternalistic pat. Anthony looked at the councilman's hand resting on his shoulder. The dead end of the phone cord peeked between his fingers. Hazel had never hung up. Walter ended the call.

Kellye Porter clutched the photograph in her hand. The heaping plate of fried chicken, green beans, potato salad, and cornbread lay untouched in front of her. Several of the church mothers surrounded her, silent in their support other than an occasional word of prayer sent up in her behalf, not realizing her grief was mixed with angst about another trouble.

In the church basement, the metal chairs were a sea of black as the friends and family of Minister Bernard Porter sat dining around rectangular tables. Gloria stood outside the circle of comforters surrounding the widow's seat, her eyes never leaving the diners at the head table: Kellye, Mabel and Denise, and Pastor Green. From the looks on all of their faces to the noticeably empty seat beside the quiet pastor, Gloria could sense unrest in the crowded room.

Kellye, who sat still even as the other mourners were beginning to file out of the small church hall, finally spoke out loud the concern that was etched on her face.

“Where's Anthony?” Her voice was a faint whisper as she laid the worn photo on the lace cloth before her. Pastor Green studied the photo from where he sat, a question forming in his eyes. When nobody responded to Kellye's concern, she did not hesitate with a response of her own.

“One of Bernard's dying wishes was for Anthony to know about his father, and after the story you just told me, Mabel, now I know why he was so insistent.”

Mabel sat tired and emotionless next to her sister-in-law. Just before the dinner had been served, she had relieved a load, a secret she had been holding on to for too long. Now Kellye, Denise, and Gloria looked burdened under the weight. Kellye was still talking.

“There is no way we can leave things like this. You know that, Mabel. And even if you don't, Bernard would not want me to sit and do nothing with this information. I have to go to the police. Bernard would want this taken care of right away. I have to go now.” She spoke with finality and certainty as she began gathering her things. Nobody disagreed with her.

“Pastor Green, thank you for everything, but I have to make sure Bernard can rest in peace. Can you receive my visitors for me? Come on, Mabel, Denise. Gloria, I need you, too.” Kellye took comfort in knowing that Bernard would be pleased with her actions, even as a rare anxiety gnawed at her gut feelings. Urgency came with her decision to head to the police headquarters.

“Ladies, we need to hurry.”

It was almost five o'clock when Kent Cassell skidded to a stop. Mona stayed frozen in her seat as Kent jumped out, anger on his face as he pushed through the press, the cameramen, reporters, journalists with pencils and notepads who surrounded the entrance of the precinct like flies on trash.

“Excuse me, sir, can you share your comments on the alleged act of police brutality that occurred in Shepherd Hills today?”

A young Asian woman with black-rimmed glasses stuck a microphone in his face when she saw his badge. He pushed away the padded mike and kept marching onward, not slowed by his bad knee or the onslaught of reporters. Within minutes he was rapping, then banging, on the glass door of Sheriff Malloy's office. The sheriff sat turned away from his desk, his back the only offered view.

“He won't come out or open the door for anyone.” Jessica, Malloy's assistant, was sitting like a scared rabbit at her desk. Her voice squeaked out just as frightened.

Kent turned away before turning back with his hand clobbering the metal frame.

“Malloy, open this door right now!” The sheriff squeaked around in his chair and when he saw what was in Kent's hand, he immediately let him in.

“Where did you get those papers?” He looked drained, removed, as if he had come to the last leg of a race that had already been won by someone else.

“No, the question is why would you mark up evidence with notes that incriminate you?”

“Nobody can prove anything.”

“Gary, the date and time that I received this fax is clearly marked on these papers. The notes you made predict when and where Anthony Murdock was going to be before the fact, and they're written as if it's for your benefit, like you had a plan outside of what he even knows.”

“It doesn't matter anymore.” Malloy looked down at his desk, shaking his head. “It was never my plan to get involved in any of this, but once I found out about the money, I thought it would be a quick, easy, painless way to get a paycheck bigger than any I've ever seen. Everything was going fine, or so he said. Just trust me, he kept telling me, and I tried. But when that crazy girlfriend of his started going off the plan over the weekend, I didn't want to take any more chances. She was getting so careless, even that young street hustler was—”

“Snap Peterson?” Kent interrupted. He had heard about the homicide on the car radio. “You had something to do with that.” It was as much a question as an answer. The sheriff squeezed his hands together.

“My career was on the line. We were right there, and that darn woman was pulling everything apart. I thought I could arrest Anthony and take care of things myself. But”—he looked out the window at the growing crowd. Protesters with signs and banners were filing off of a bus—“I guess I lost control.”

“Where is Anthony Murdock? Where is he right now?”

“I don't know.”

“What do you mean you don't know?”

“He left here with Councilman Banks over an hour ago, and I could not tell you where they went.”

“So you just let them go?”

“What else was I supposed to do?” Sheriff Malloy closed his eyes and swung his chair back to face the wall.

“We need to find them right now!”

Reginald and Cherisse were almost at the police station. Despite the luxurious appointments of the Lincoln limo, both of them looked uncomfortable in their seats.

“If nine-one-one won't come to us, then we need to go to them.”

Cherisse had seen no need to disagree with Reggie's plan. Now she wished they had only thought of it earlier. The blocks surrounding the precinct were already being barricaded off as crowds of protesters showed up from all around the region.

“I still don't understand why that cop was giving Anthony a beat-down like that.” Cherisse pressed her lips together in a thick worry line as she watched concrete barriers being used to section off the main thoroughfare. Officers in riot gear were lining up around the perimeter.

“We're going to have to walk the rest of the way.” Reggie got out as quickly as humanly possible from the limo. He held the door for Cherisse and then took her by the hand as together they pressed through the growing crowd. They shoved through in silence until Reggie briefly let go of Cherisse's hand to raise his arm in a desperate wave.

“Gloria! Gloria! Miss Randall!” Reggie's bass thundered over the shouts and protests until it caught the ear of Gloria and the three women with her. They were almost a half block ahead of them.

“Gloria Randall!” Cherisse narrowed her eyes at the woman who was looking around at the yell of her name. “That chubby checker is Anthony's mistress?”

Reggie gave Cherisse a double-take as they wrestled around the flow to catch up with Gloria and company.

“Anthony's mistress? You think so? I thought she was just Councilman Banks's secretary. Remember up onstage at the banquet Friday night? I don't know why the councilman looked so surprised when the emcee announced his support for the BEA. That man approached me months ago with a guarantee not only of his vote, but of most of the council members' votes as well. To hear that man speak, you'd think he owned this city.”

“And you think Gloria is only Councilman Banks's secretary, not Anthony's lover?”

“That's the impression I got, anyway. He said she was a good worker, but I don't know how well I'm trusting his judgment right about now. Anybody that would recommend that crazy Nikki Galloway as a personal assistant has got to be off his rocker.” Reggie was running out of breath as he led their way through the throng.

“Wait a minute—Nikki is your personal assistant? Terri swore that woman was your girlfriend!” Cherisse had to catch herself from stopping in her tracks at such a critical time.

Reginald gave Cherisse a triple-take. “You haven't met Nikki, have you?”

“Out to lunch, huh?”

“Forget out to lunch. She called out for the day. Check that—she ain't even got it to call out of!”

It was good to share a laugh, albeit a quick, nervous one, in a moment when the world had seemed to lose its correct rotation. They had almost caught up with the others when a group of demonstrators blocked their way again.

“In all seriousness, Nikki wishes, maybe even imagines, that there's more between us than business, but now I've cut that off too. She's entirely too unpredictable and completely unprofessional—and that's the best that I can say about her. I had been sending her to meet with CASH—you heard of Bethany Village, I'm sure—and from what I overheard her saying to the director today down at city hall, I think she had another agenda going on than what I had asked her to initiate. I thought she was presenting him with some lots I own that he could use alongside the businesses of the BEA.”

“I can't hear you. Wait a minute!” Cherisse tried to shout over a man screaming into a bullhorn. The crowd was growing more restless. She and Reggie were jostled around by a group of young men running with car tires in their arms. A glass bottle shattered at Cherisse's feet.

“Step to this side.” Reggie gingerly but quickly pushed her around him. Gloria and the three women with her had stopped in the near distance, but all of them looked confused, searching Reggie and Cherisse's faces for familiarity. Reggie continued talking as they pressed closer to them.

“I had been telling Councilman Banks that the BEA could benefit from a partnership with a non-profit, and vice versa, but he insisted that I try to sell CASH some acres I invested in at his request. I never looked at the real estate I bought from him, being so eager to keep such an influential man happy. I'm not even sure what we were offering Eric Johnson, the director of CASH. Now seeing Walter Banks's judgment of good help, I wonder about his judgment of good land. I'm starting to believe that Nikki was playing both me and Eric, but I haven't figured out why.”

“Do I know you?”

Reggie and Cherisse had finally reached Gloria. Two of the three women standing with her were dressed in dark church clothes; the other was in white. All of their eyes were swollen and red from crying.

“I recognized you as Councilman Banks's assistant, Miss Randall. We've spoken on the phone and you were onstage Friday night. I'm Reginald Savant.”

Gloria instantly knew who he was the moment his silk voice fluttered out, but she had no time to be gushy. “We're trying to get to the police station. We have an emergency.”

“We do too,” Reggie said, looking at Cherisse, who was biting her lip, holding back tears once again. “I was hoping that you could contact the councilman so we could use some of his clout to get an immediate response.”

One of the women who looked like she had just recovered from a tearful outburst suddenly broke down again. “How is it that everybody seems to know all about Walter Banks except me, and he's my own father?” A deep moan rose from her throat.

One of the other ladies grabbed her in a tight hug.

“I'm sorry. I was just so mad about trying to get through this life all by myself with no help from anybody, that I was glad when he called me. I hadn't heard from him since the night you were conceived, and after all I went through trying to raise you by myself, I was glad to take the money he offered me.”

Tears washed Mabel's face anew as she continued holding Denise.

“It seemed the least he could do was give me an easy retirement since he gave me such a hard life. It seemed simple enough, keeping a great-nephew from contacting an old woman at a nursing home, keeping him from learning through her about his father. I blamed Kofi for everything, and I guess I was just mad at Anthony for being his son. I never knew it would get this far.” She wiped more tears from her face as she kept talking.