Murder on the Down Low (43 page)

“Today, brothers and sisters, I want to talk about forgiveness. The Bible teaches us to be kind, tenderhearted, and forgiving toward one another. Just as God has forgiven us. But that’s very hard for many people to do.” His voice rose and fell in a melodic rhythm as the animated congregation shouted,
preach, Reverend
and
amen, Reverend.

“If you’ve been reading the newspapers or watching the news these past few weeks, then you know that there’s a lot of wickedness going on out here in this crazy world we live in. People don’t even think twice about taking a life. We even lost one of our own flock, Eugene Nelson. Before his death, Mr. Nelson was the subject of a pretty nasty lawsuit. And I’ve heard some hateful things said about Mr. Nelson.” He stopped to wipe his face with a handkerchief. “Well, let me tell you that the God I worship loves all of his children.”

There were no calls of
amen
or
preach, Reverend
in response to this comment. Vernetta saw disapproval on the faces of many people in the audience. Young and old.

“The ugly things I’ve been hearing about our gay brothers and sisters as of late truly trouble me because I don’t think it’s God’s way.”

Reverend Sims continued on the topic of tolerance and forgiveness for the next fifteen minutes. As he reached the end of his sermon, emotion seemed to overwhelm him.

“I, myself, am a man of God who is in no way perfect,” he said, his voice quivering. “I pray every day for God’s guidance because sometimes I fall short. But one thing I know for sure is that the good Lord will always be there to pick me back up and dust me off.” His face was wracked with pain. “And I tell you today, church, that I’m a living testimony. No matter what you’re going through, there’s nothing that God’s grace can’t fix.”

As the pianist played, he wiped his face again and nearly collapsed into a throne-like chair behind the podium.

Nichelle nudged Vernetta with her elbow and pointed across the aisle. Belynda was heading out of a side door.

“Let’s try to talk to her,” Nichelle whispered.

By the time they made it out to the vestibule, Belynda was nowhere in sight. They searched the hallways, but no luck.

Nichelle peered into an open doorway. “Maybe she went to the restroom.”

They stepped inside the ladies’ room and found Belynda standing at the mirror combing her hair.

“Hello,” Vernetta began, hoping Belynda didn’t recognize her from any of the news reports.

Her scornful look told Vernetta that was wishful thinking.

“I don’t have anything to say to either of you,” Belynda spat, before Vernetta could even get her spiel out.

Vernetta positioned herself near the door, hoping to block the exit in case Belynda tried to leave. “I’m sure you don’t want to see the wrong person convicted. Special told us about your visit to the jail. I’d like to know why you think Eugene was seeing someone from this church.”

“I never said that.”

“But you tried to show her a picture of someone in the church bulletin. The only pictures in there are of the ministers at this church. You must think Eugene was involved with one of them.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Belynda tried to push past her, but Vernetta stepped in front of the door. “I don’t have to talk to you. Now please move.”

“Don’t you want to see the real killer caught?”

“The real killer’s already been caught.”

“Who are you protecting?” Nichelle interjected.

“I’m not protecting anyone. Now get out of my way.” Belynda was stronger than she looked. She bowled past Vernetta and jerked the door open. It would have slammed into Vernetta’s back if she hadn’t jumped out of the way in time.

The two lawyers left before the service ended and headed to brunch at Dulan’s on Crenshaw.

“What do you know about the ministers at Ever Faithful?” Vernetta rolled to a stop at a traffic light at Stocker.

“Not that much,” Nichelle replied. “There’s Bishop Berry, Reverend Sims, and two part-time ministers, Reverend Charles and Reverend Hooks. All of them are married. Bishop Berry is an institution in L.A. He’s been at Ever Faithful for nearly thirty years. Reverend Sims is the newest minister. They ran a profile on him in the church bulletin a few months ago. Before his appointment six months ago, he was an assistant pastor at a church in Carson. His wife is a nurse and I think he has two children. I don’t know much about the other two.”

“Why in the world would Belynda want to protect a minister she thought might be gay?” Vernetta wondered aloud.

“Don’t ask me. I still can’t understand why she started seeing Eugene.”

“Well, she obviously doesn’t know for sure if one of the ministers was the man Special saw with Eugene. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have needed Special to identify him.”

Nichelle gazed out of the passenger window. “If somebody in that pulpit does turn out to be gay, I just hope it’s one of the assistant pastors.” There was an unmistakable note of dread in her voice. “Because if sixty-one-year-old Bishop Berry is on the down low, I’m too through.”

J
.C.’s cell phone rang and she pulled it from her pocket. She answered it despite the anxiety she felt at seeing Nichelle’s number in the display panel.

“I don’t want to make a habit of asking you to do illegal stuff,” Nichelle said, “but you’re our last hope.”

J.C. grimaced. What in the world did Nichelle want her to do now? Nichelle had not mentioned switching the camera again and J.C. hoped she wasn’t about to bring it up now. Her stomach had been tied up in knots since confirming that she had indeed switched the disks. The next day, she had dropped by the property room, planning to switch them back, but this time Nick insisted on playing it by the book. He escorted her into the back and watched as she examined the evidence bag. There was no way she could make the switch under those conditions.

“I’m listening,” J.C. said into the telephone.

“I know you’re off the case, but I was hoping you might be able to interview Belynda Davis. We tried to talk to her yesterday at church, but didn’t have any luck. The man Special caught on camera with Eugene may have been one of the ministers at Ever Faithful. We think Belynda may know which one.”

“Are you kidding?”

Nichelle told her about Belynda’s visit to the jail.

“Please tell me Special didn’t talk to that woman.”

“Thank God, no. She even refused to look at the picture Belynda tried to show her. So we don’t know which minister Belynda suspects was with Eugene.”

J.C. was curious about Belynda’s visit. The odds of the lieutenant finding out about her interview would be slim. “For whatever it’s worth, I’ll give it a try.”

Later that afternoon, J.C. knocked on Belynda’s front door and flashed her badge. “Good afternoon. I’m sorry to disturb you. I’m a detective with the LAPD. I was one of the investigators looking into Eugene Nelson’s murder.”

“I remember you.” Belynda gave her a warm smile. “You were at the courthouse the day that psychotic woman attacked Eugene. Thank God you were there to take her away. Come on in.”

Belynda’s home was a shrine to her faith. Religious symbols lined the hallway and were positioned all around the living room. There were crosses on the walls next to portraits of Jesus and his disciples. Two huge leather-bound Bibles sat on matching coffee tables. J.C. also counted at least a dozen framed photographs of an older woman who resembled Belynda.

“Your mother?” J.C. asked.

“Yes,” Belynda said with a longing in her voice. “She died three years ago. I still miss her so much.”

J.C. continued taking in the room. The view through an oval picture window extended for miles. The house had to be a good three thousand square feet. “You have a very nice place.”

J.C. wondered how Belynda could afford a house like this on a meager church salary.

Belynda seemed to read her mind. “This was my mother’s home,” she explained. “Why don’t you join me in the kitchen?” Belynda led the way.

“I was in the middle of cooking for a meeting at the church tonight,” she said proudly. “You mind if we talk while I cook?”

“No, go right ahead.” J.C. took a seat at the breakfast nook. She watched as Belynda combined milk and eggs in a large bowl.

“You told reporters and the police that Special Moore tried to show you a picture of Eugene Nelson kissing another man.”

Belynda nodded. “That is one troubled woman. I pray for her every night.”

“I know you’ve talked to the police already, but I need you to go over it one more time with me.”

Belynda dipped a chicken breast into the egg-and-milk mixture, coated it with flour, then dropped it into a deep fryer filled with hot cooking oil. J.C. waited as Belynda filled the deep fryer with chicken. She rinsed her hands in the sink and joined J.C. at the table.

“I was walking my dog and she came out of nowhere. The woman scared me to death. This wasn’t the first time she had ambushed me like that. Several weeks ago she showed up on my doorstep ranting and raving, telling me I had no business seeing Eugene. Like I said, she is a very disturbed woman.”

Belynda went on to describe in greater detail both of Special’s visits.

“So you never actually saw the picture Ms. Moore claimed to have of Eugene and another man.”

“No. When she tried to show it to me, I refused to look.”

“I understand that you visited Ms. Moore at the jail a couple of days ago.”

Belynda seemed surprised that J.C. was aware of her visit. “Well, yes. I began to wonder about who was in that picture with Eugene. If she even had a picture, that is.”

“Why?”

She hunched her shoulders. “I don’t know. I know that woman is ill. It was a waste of my time to even go down there.”

“I understand that you tried to show Ms. Moore a picture of someone in one of Ever Faithful’s church bulletins. Did you think one of the church’s ministers was seeing Eugene?”

“That’s absurd.” She looked away. “I’m not about to damage anyone’s reputation unnecessarily. I have a responsibility to the church. I mean—” she abruptly stopped.

Responsibility to the church?
“It’s very possible that the man in that picture may have been the last person to see Eugene alive.”

“That psycho Special Moore was the last person to see Eugene alive. When she killed him.”

“That hasn’t been proven in a court of law yet.”

“Don’t worry,” she said smugly. “I’ve prayed about it. So it will be.”

J
.C. left Belynda’s house and raced to the station to begin delving into the background of the four ministers at Ever Faithful. Based on Belynda’s slip of the tongue about having
a responsibility to the church
, J.C. was certain that the woman was protecting one of her beloved pastors.

Whatever J.C. found, she knew she would have to pass on to Detective Jessup. That meant he would get credit for solving the case. That didn’t please her, but if it meant Special’s freedom, she could live with it.

She had just printed out three articles about Bishop Berry from the Internet when Detective Jessup sat down on the corner of her desk. “Lieutenant Wilson wants to see you,” he said. “And he’s pretty irate.”

So what else is new?
“What’s wrong now?”

“I don’t know and frankly, I don’t want to know. I don’t think I’ve
ever
seen him this hot before.”

Apprehensively, J.C. made her way to the lieutenant’s office.

She slowed as she reached the door, then ventured inside. “You wanted to see me?”

“Close the door,” he said sternly.

She did, then sat down without waiting for an invitation to do so.

“I consider myself pretty much a law-and-order, by-the-book kind of guy, wouldn’t you agree, Detective?”

“I would.”
Except where gay men are concerned.

“So it disturbs me when someone under my command does something really stupid.”

J.C.’s jaw tensed, but she didn’t say a word.
The disk!
He had found out that she had switched the disks.
But how?
Her mind frantically searched for a valid defense to the accusation that was about to be leveled at her.

“I just got off the phone with a hysterical woman who claims that you showed up at her house and tried to intimidate her into saying that one of the ministers at the most respected black church in this city is a fa—” He cracked his knuckles. “Excuse me. A homosexual.”

The tension that had tightened every muscle in J.C.’s body slowly eased away. “I didn’t try to intimidate her. And I had a very good reason for questioning Belynda Davis about the ministers at Ever Faithful.” She was about to explain but the lieutenant cut her off.

“If I recall correctly, I told you that you were off the case, didn’t I, Detective?”

She nodded, but hoped that the end justified the means. She proceeded to tell him about Belynda’s visit to the jail and her slip about protecting someone at the church.

“Son of a bitch!” His face contorted. “I don’t believe this shit. You tellin’ me one of the ministers at Ever Faithful is a sissy?”

She started to correct him, but let it go. “It could be, Lieutenant.”

“Son of a bitch!” He reached for a Snickers from his candy dish. “The fact that you had a good reason for talking to that woman doesn’t get you off the hook,” he admonished. “You should’ve given that information to Jessup to follow up on. It wouldn’t look good if the press knew that an LAPD detective was investigating a case in which one of her friends was the chief suspect. That could cost both of us our jobs.”

J.C. nodded again.

“But I have another problem with you, Detective.” His eyes hardened. “A much, much bigger one.”

J.C. swallowed, not knowing what was coming next.

“I understand you made a visit to the property room a few days ago.”

J.C. tried not to move. Cops were trained to pick up visual cues from suspects. She didn’t want to give off any.

“Yeah,” J.C. said slowly. Most guilty people talked too much. She wasn’t about to do that.

“Did you happen to remove any evidence pertaining to the Nelson case?”