Murder on the Down Low (46 page)

“Re-al-ly?” Special stretched the word into three syllables.

“Yes, really.”

“Well, I don’t have a problem with it if you don’t. My cousin Thomas is gay and I’m cool with him. But how do you know for sure that you don’t like men?”

J.C. chuckled softly. “Special, I’m sure.”

“Have you been with guys before?”

“Yeah.”

“And you didn’t like it?”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Really?” Special said again. “So do you have a . . . uh . . . a girlfriend?”

“Not at the moment.”

“You ever had one?”

J.C. shrugged. “Yeah.”

“So how do y’all determine which one is the man in the relationship?”

“There is no man, Special.”

“Really?” She propped up her elbow on the table and cupped her chin in her hand. “Is it true that when y’all have sex one of you straps on a—”

J.C. held up her hand. “I think this conversation has gone as far as it needs to go. I just wanted you to know.”

“Well, thanks for telling me. Have you told Vernetta and Nichelle?”

J.C. nodded.

“I bet they were as shocked as I was.”

“Yeah, I guess they were.” J.C. grinned.

“You probably thought I was going to freak out, huh?”

“Kinda.”

“Nah, girl. You’re cool with me. It makes me so mad when the media calls me homophobic. I don’t have nothing against gay men or lesbians, as long as they ain’t trying to hit on me. It’s these deceitful ass, down low brothers I have a problem with.”

C
onfident that she was about to convince a killer to crack, J.C. boldly entered the vestibule of Ever Faithful.

To her surprise, after telling the lieutenant about the waiter’s identification of Lamont and Reverend Sims, he had given her the go-ahead to interview the reverend. She was still anxiously waiting to find out if Lamont’s fingerprints were found at Eugene’s place.

While Lieutenant Wilson okayed her trip to Ever Faithful, he made it clear that she was on her own. And she knew why. If it turned out that J.C. was on the wrong trail and the reverend was not the killer, he would deny any knowledge of her actions and brand her a renegade cop who had ignored a direct order.

The church secretary asked her to have a seat, then left to tell the reverend she was waiting.

J.C. was mulling over how she planned to approach the reverend when he came out to greet her. “What can I do for you, ma’am?”

“It’s Detective,” she said gently. “Detective J.C. Sparks.”

“I’m sorry, Detective. How can I help you?”

“Perhaps we should talk in the privacy of your office.”

“It’s that serious, huh?” His levity sounded forced. “Hope I’m not about to be arrested.”

J.C. intentionally didn’t respond, but followed him inside. She barely gave him a chance to get seated behind his desk. “I’m investigating the murder of—”

“I’ve already talked to the police about the murder of my friend James Hill,” he said, twirling an ink pen back and forth between two fingers. “I hope we don’t have to do that all over again.”

“I’m here regarding a different murder. The murder of Eugene Nelson.”

He scratched his bearded jaw and sat back in his chair. “I can’t imagine why you would possibly need to speak to me about that case.”

“We typically interview people who knew the victim. Sometimes information people think is insignificant can end up being very important. I just have a few questions.”

“Okay, then, ask away.” He gently rocked back and forth in his chair.

“Can you tell me how you met Mr. Nelson?”

The reverend explained that Eugene had joined Ever Faithful a few weeks before his death and had come to him for counseling.

“Counseling regarding what?”

“I can’t disclose that, Detective. There’s a pastoral privilege. Our discussions are confidential.”

“I understand. Did you ever socialize with Eugene?”

The reverend abruptly stopped rocking. “Uh . . . no. Not really.”

“Is it
no
or is it
not really
?”

Reverend Sims seemed to be rehearsing his answer in his head.

“Uh . . . it’s no.”

Detective Jessup had followed up on the information from the waiter at Marie Callender’s Grill and confirmed that Reverend Sims and Eugene played racquetball at the Spectrum Club right before dinner.
So why is he lying?

She changed tactics and asked a series of questions ostensibly intended to put him at ease. They talked about how long he had been in the ministry, his work at Raycom and the other churches where he had served. All of his seemingly innocuous answers were confirming his link to the murdered men.

The reverend lamented the death of his neighbor James Hill and eagerly talked about serving as the minister for the football and basketball teams at Fox Hills Junior College.

“Sounds like you had a lot of contact with the football players.”

“Yep. I was right there in the locker room, praying with them before the games. Got two free tickets on the fifty-yard line for every home game. Some of the players even came to me privately for counseling.”

And I bet you counseled them, alright.
“Did you ever meet Nathaniel Hall, one of the team’s star players?”

“As a matter fact I did,” Reverend Sims said. “What a tragedy to be struck down in life with so much ahead of him.”

After he described the kind of work he’d done at Raycom, J.C. asked if he knew Marcus Patterson, the slain engineer. “That’s not a name I remember, but it’s possible I may have—” He stopped talking.

J.C. could tell by the spark of alarm in his eyes that Reverend Sims had just put the pieces together.

“Detective Sparks, why are you asking me these questions?”

“Because they’re relevant to my investigation.”

“How?”

“I’m not at liberty to divulge that right now.”

His face turned angry.

“Would you mind providing us with a set of your fingerprints?” J.C. asked.

The reverend leaned over his desk. “Why would you need my prints?”

“Eugene had a visitor the night of his murder. We have some fingerprints we took from his home. We’d like to exclude yours.”

Beads of sweat lined his upper lip. “Are you telling me that I’m a suspect, Detective? I understand that there’s already somebody in custody for his murder.”

“Is there some reason you don’t want to provide your prints? You never mentioned anything about being at Eugene’s home.”

“I . . . I don’t have time to get down to the station to provide prints. I’m very busy here and I— ”

J.C. pulled a small package from her jacket pocket. “I have an ink pad and fingerprint card right here. I can fingerprint you right now.”

The reverend’s face went flush and he seemed unable to speak.

“Are you okay, Reverend?”

“Yes, I’m fine. I just . . . can you give me a second to go grab some water?”

“Sure.”

J.C. hoped the man wasn’t going to make a run for it. Just when she was about to think that maybe he had, the reverend returned to his desk. Without water.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to give you my fingerprints. If you’re asking me to do that, you obviously think I’m a suspect. I had better get legal counsel. I have nothing more to say.”

J.C. stood up and peered down at him, a move intended to intimidate. “Reverend, it’s been my experience that when someone lawyers up, it’s usually because they have something to hide.”

“As I just said, I don’t have anything else to say, Detective.” He got to his feet.

J.C. saw guilt in the man’s eyes.

“Please leave my office.”

Pumped with adrenalin, J.C. stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind her. The reverend’s evasiveness and his bold-faced lies moved him straight to the top of the prime suspects’ list. She wanted to bring him down to the station for further questioning right this minute, but she wasn’t about to make that move without Lieutenant Wilson’s okay. She flipped open her cell phone. Before she could dial his number, the phone rang. It was Detective Jessup.

“I’ve got some good news,” he said. “We have a match on the prints we found on that wineglass.”

“Are they Lamont’s?” J.C. asked anxiously.

“Yep. But I don’t think he’s our killer.”

“I agree.” She started to tell him about her interview with Reverend Sims, but decided to wait until after her call to the lieutenant. “What about the windowsill?”

“Unfortunately for you, those belong to your buddy Special Moore.”

J.C. wanted to cry. “I still don’t think she killed Eugene,” she said finally.

“Neither do I. I think Lamont’s live-in lover, Ken, iced Nelson. Seems he’s been picked up a few times in Griffith Park for lewd and lascivious conduct.”

“I don’t get the connection. That doesn’t make him a killer.”

“Nope, it doesn’t. I only mentioned that to explain why we had his prints on file. We also found Ken’s prints on that windowsill. A few other places, too. We just brought him in and I’m about to start questioning him right now.”

V
ernetta had not expected to see J.C. stalking their way as she followed Nichelle into the vestibule of Ever Faithful.

J.C. skidded to a stop when she spotted them. “What are you guys doing here?”

Vernetta pointed at Nichelle. “She insisted on coming and I wasn’t about to let her do this by herself.”

“Do what?”

“She wants to talk to each of the ministers here. She thinks she’ll be able to find out if they had anything to do with Eugene’s murder.”

“You can’t do that!” J.C. ushered them back outside. “You’d be interfering with a police investigation.”

“I’m not going to interfere with your investigation,” Nichelle said snippily. “I’m representing my client. I have a right to interview anybody I want.”

J.C. looked at Vernetta, then Nichelle. “You have to go home and leave this to the police. Trust me, Nichelle, I’m very close to solving this case. What you plan to do could blow it for me.”

“I’m tired of waiting for the police to find the real killer while Special rots in jail.
I’ll
find him.” She marched back inside the church. “We all know he’s one of the ministers in this church.”

J.C. jumped in front of Nichelle, blocking her path. “He may not be. In fact, I just got some information that points to another suspect. Two of them, in fact. So I need both of you to leave. Now.”

“You’re just saying that to get us out of here.”

“Nichelle, please don’t make me take out my handcuffs. Because if I have to, I will.”

Vernetta watched as they stared each other down, neither of them willing to budge. She put her arm around Nichelle’s shoulder. “Let’s just leave and let J.C. handle things.”

“Okay, okay,” Nichelle said stubbornly. “But I need to talk to Reverend Sims about something else. Special wants him to come down to the jail to counsel her. If he is the killer, I want him to look me in the eye knowing
she’s
about to go on trial for murders
he
committed.”

“You can’t talk to Reverend Sims about
anything
,” J.C. said. “The police will be talking to him soon enough.”

“So it
is
him!” Nichelle pressed her hands to both cheeks.

“I didn’t say that,” J.C. said, glancing back over her shoulder. “And please keep your voice down.”

“We’re leaving.” Vernetta grabbed Nichelle’s arm and tried to tug her toward the door, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I won’t say anything about the case,” Nichelle promised. “I just want to see how the man reacts when I tell him Special wants him to come down to the jail and pray with her. I bet he—” Nichelle stared down the hallway.

Vernetta looked back and saw Belynda stalking toward them.

“Perhaps you forgot,” Belynda said, sarcastically, “but this is a church. I could hear you all the way at the other end of the building. What in the world is going on here?”

“I need to talk to Reverend Sims,” Nichelle said.

Belynda hoisted the strap of her purse higher on her shoulder. “Do you have an appointment?”

“I don’t need one.”

They heard footsteps and turned around. Reverend Sims walked over to them. He shot J.C. a panicky look. “What’s going on here, ladies?”

Nichelle pursed her lips. “I need to speak with you, Reverend.”

“No, she doesn’t,” J.C. said.

The reverend’s eyes were moist and red. “Well, now is not a good time.”

“When
would
be a good time?” Nichelle demanded.

He looked at his watch. “The church secretary should be back from lunch shortly. You can check my schedule with her.”

“This is extremely urgent. It won’t take long.”

J.C. stepped in front of Nichelle. “Reverend, why don’t you go back to your office. I’ll handle this.”

Nichelle would not relent. “No. I want to—”

The reverend sighed heavily. “Perhaps we should discuss this in my office. ”

J.C. shot Vernetta and Nichelle a burning look as they all followed him down the hall to his office.

Reverend Sims closed the door, then stepped behind his desk as if he needed to use it as a bunker. Belynda valiantly stood next to him.

“Would you like me to call the security guard, Reverend?” Belynda asked.

“No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Will it?” He eyed Nichelle.

“We know you killed Eugene,” Nichelle blurted out.

“Nichelle!” J.C. and Vernetta screamed in unison.

The reverend gave J.C. a hard look. “Detective, I can’t believe you’ve been spreading these vicious lies. I’m suing you and the LAPD for defamation!”

J.C. took Nichelle by her left arm. Vernetta grabbed the other one. “You’re leaving. Now!” J.C. ordered.

Vernetta tried to pull Nichelle toward the door. She managed to break free from Vernetta, but couldn’t shake off J.C.

“The police Department restored that picture Special took the night before Eugene was murdered,” Nichelle bluffed. “It shows you in Eugene’s kitchen kissing him. We know you killed him!”

The reverend’s eyes expanded, but not half as wide as Belynda’s. She took a dizzying step away from him and almost plowed into the wall.