No Sin in Paradise (3 page)

Pastor Bryant finishes his water and places his hands in his pocket. “You realize that what I'm about to tell you is of the highest confidentiality.”

“If you know me, then you know what I do and you know the answer.”

Pastor Bryant nods his head in concession. Even my enemies would vouch for my discretion.

“Have you heard of Randall Knox?”

“The business tycoon who just had an unsuccessful gubernatorial campaign?” That's my way of saying that I know who Randall is, and I know of his influence back home. I also know that he's a jerk and a proud member of the 1 percent. “What about him?”

“After 9/11, Knox noticed a spike in church attendance, but what he also noticed was after the waves of emotions subsided from 9/11, people stopped attending church as usual. So he and his think tank got together and came up with an idea. They started approaching pastors, offering to help them expand their ministries and keep the church pews full. He offers construction companies and franchise coffee shops and fast-food restaurants. The pastors soon saw his genius and saw a way to make a profit.”

I remember reading an article not too long ago that showed a cathedral with a golden arch on the outside. It was an article that focused on how corporate America has both infiltrated and influenced today's church.

The article made me sick. I understand why Jesus turned over the money tables. The church is supposed to be a place of prayer and healing, not commerce. I know I'm the last person to judge, but if I walk into the church and see more commerce than prayer going on, then something is off.

“So how does this relate to Pastor Cole?”

Pastor Bryant lets out a big smile. “He was the innovator; he's the first to embrace big business in the church. He changed the game.”

“He prostituted the church, you mean,” I say without remorse.

“Don't look at it from one angle. There is another side to the coin. Big corporate dollars means more education programs, affordable living programs, work placement programs, and recovery programs. The list goes on and on with what the church can do with enough resources. The church is now able to provide people with not only spiritual nourishment, but socioeconomic nourishment as well. These opportunities no longer lay at the back of the congregational tithes and offerings.”

I hear what Pastor Bryant is saying, but the truth is that the church is meant to be sustained by tithes and offerings through the faith of the congregation. The church would always thrive if souls are being saved, even if a Starbucks is not in the lobby.

“So you think one of these corporate execs had Pastor Cole killed?”

Pastor Bryant shrugs his shoulders. “I don't know. All I know is that money is the root of all evil. Lord know what people would do if they stood a chance to gain it or lose it.”

“I need a name, something to go off of. The list of suspects stretches from here to Atlanta. Could it be any of the ministers that are here at the conference?”

“No,” Pastor Bryant says.

“How do you know? Obviously, whoever did this had access to Pastor Cole.”

“Because these are men of God, and they wouldn't do that.”

“Oh yeah, because men and women of God don't sin; we all just follow the Bible to the letter. Bottom line, if you live in this world, you get a little dirty.”

Pastor Bryant is taken aback by my frankness. I know it's a strong indictment of his fellow brothers and sisters of the cloth, but experience has taught me to never rule someone out.

“The day before he died, Cole came to me visibly shaken. He said he was concerned for his life. He wouldn't tell what or who. All I know was that I saw fear in his eyes.”

“And that was the last time that you saw him?” I ask.

Pastor Bryant nods his head. He then pinches his eyes to keep the tears at bay. “I should've pressed the issue, but I didn't. I have to live with that, but I can at least find out the truth of who killed my brother.”

The story is compelling, and Pastor Bryant is right: the world won't care what happens to a preacher. But this is my vacation, and I really should be trying to get over what happened in Sacramento. I'm not up for this challenge, but I can't ignore the urge within that is telling me to pursue this case. I don't know if it's the devil or the Holy Spirit. All I know is that it's a voice that I cannot ignore.

“I'll ask around and see what I find.”

“There's one more thing. Cole would kill me if I told you this.” Bryant goes into his pockets and scribbles something on another piece of paper.

He hands the paper to me, and I read it. It says Elisha Davis and it has her address written at the bottom of the paper. “Pastor Cole had a daughter from back when he was in seminary a long time ago. That was part of the reason why he had the conference out here, to see her. Look her up and see what she might know.”

So Pastor Cole had a daughter that the world didn't know about. Every man has his vices, and every man has his secrets.

“And before I forget,” Bryant goes into his jacket and hands me an envelope. “Make sure you hand this to her. I would do it myself, but since you're going to see her first . . .”

More than likely there is a check on the inside of this envelope. The question is, is this check for a grieving daughter, or is this hush money?

“Okay, I will probably start there and ask her a few questions.”

Pastor Bryant shakes my hand before he heads toward the door.

“What are you going to do?” I ask.

“The conference must go on. The devil can't win.”

He's right; the devil can't win, but to continue with a conference in the midst of Pastor Cole's death is bad form.

 

 

I thought about Pastor Bryant's words on the flight home. I arrive at Adele's place to hear her engage in a playful conversation. I don't want to be rude and not say anything so I go into the kitchen and there in the middle of the living room is Victory. Victory has finally arrived, and her timing couldn't have been worse.

Victory's hair looks like it's been kissed by fire. Her hair is also stringy like I remember. She wears a cream sundress that fits her slim frame to a tee, and the scent of cucumber melon permeates from her skin. In short, Victory's presence is both refreshing and breathtaking.

“Boy, if you don't pick your mouth up off my floor, I'm going to kick it closed,” Adele says.

Victory covers up her mouth in laughter to avoid adding to the embarrassment that Adele's comments causes. But she doesn't have to cover up for my sake; I love to see her smile, even at my own expense.

“You look good, Nic,” Victory says.

I'm glad I don't look the way that I feel. “Thank you. You're beautiful, as always.”

“Lord Jesus, gets this boy some game. I swear!” Adele says.

Victory tries to cover up her laughter again, but can't. I understand Adele is quite a character.

“I've been comparing notes with Adele,” Victory says.

“Hopefully, she hasn't been beating me up too bad,” I reply.

“No, but I did tell her how you've been out here watching the planes as they come in like Tattoo on
Fantasy Island
. It was starting to get embarrassing, if you ask me.”

Now that statement is a blow to my ego. Whatever swagger points I earned while in Sacramento has just been lost in a matter of seconds. Adele sits there and dares me to challenge her on her accusations. Of course, I have a weak defense, so I must continue to take the blows.

“Sorry to keep you waiting. I didn't know I was in such high demand,” Victory says.

“You have no idea,” Adele states.

“Excuse me,” I say to Adele, and I extend my hand to Victory. She takes my hand and grabs her purse. Victory leaves her suitcase behind and follows me. Out of my peripheral vision, I can see that Adele wants to protest, but she decides to just let us go. I'm sure Adele will have plenty of time to compare notes with Victory, but since I arrived at this island, I couldn't wait for Victory to show up so that we can walk along the sand. I wonder if she will get the same pleasure from feeling the warm sand between her toes.

“I didn't think you'd come,” I say.

“I must've thought about getting on that plane a million times, but I didn't.” Victory takes her sandals off and holds them in her free hand.

“Are you going to spare me the suspense?”

“I don't know. I guess since things went well in Sacramento, I thought that it might be better to leave it be. You know how they say some people come into your life for seasons. Maybe that was our season.”

“But?”

“I hate what-ifs. I really do. I hate what-ifs about as much as I hate an open-ended ending to a love story. I want a clear conclusion, and I hate leaving a handsome man on an island all by himself.”

I too hate what-ifs and believe in seeing things through to the end. I build my reputation off of several principles, and that was one of them. I don't know if the rules that govern my career can also apply to my dating life, but then again, I don't know any other way to do things.

We walk along the shore and don't talk for a while. We just look out at luxury cruise liners and speedboats as they cut through the calm waters.

“Adele says that you went over to the island where Pastor Cole was murdered.”

“Yeah, I went by.”

“Brutal. A famous pastor like that gets murdered at a church conference, of all places. We are definitely in the end times.”

We have been in the end times for a while now, the devil has been running rampant, and if there is anything I can do for the betterment of the kingdom, then here I am, Lord, send me.

“Are you okay?” Victory asks.

No, I am not okay. I would've been okay if I hadn't watched the news the other night. I wish I would've come home from hanging out with Sammy and found Victory in Adele's living room and all I have to worry about is if Victory is having a good time. But, no, I find myself in the midst of this murder case. “Yes, I'm okay; it's just that I got to go by and see this girl as a favor for a friend, but I don't want to leave you alone.”

“Well, I can come along. I haven't had a chance to see the island.”

“Actually, this is a delicate matter, and only I can handle it directly. You know, pastoral stuff. But I promise I'll be back before you even know I'm gone.”

Victory looks perplexed as to why she couldn't tag along, but she didn't say anything. I guess she didn't want to give the sense of being jealous.

“Well, no problem. Adele says that she wants to give me a tour of the island. I would like to get her perspective of this place.”

Adele is a lifesaver in this instance. I take Victory by her hands and kiss them. “We'll meet up for dinner, and I promise, no more distractions.”

“Nic, one thing about me that you might not know. You don't have to constantly make promises to me. Only promise the things that you can deliver on. Deal?”

Why did I do that? Why did I promise something to Victory? I make a point never to promise something that I can't deliver, and given this present set of circumstances, I can't even promise that I will make it to dinner on time.

“Deal,” I say.

“Hurry back, because we have a lot of catching up to do,” Victory says.

She leaves me with her dress blowing in the wind as she walks toward Adele's house. I pray that I'm not away from her long.

 

 

I arrive at Elisha Davis's house unsure of what to say to her. It shows how small the world is when on an island with a population of less than 2,000, there is the love child of a slain pastor. I have been on this island for two weeks, and I have seen most of the Ten Commandments broken with very little regard to God's authority. I guess this is as good of a place as any for a child out of wedlock to hide.

Her home is small by most modern homes' standards, but a small home in the middle of paradise trumps a two-story home in the heart of the city any day. I'm not sure how I am going to play this situation out. I'm thinking about letting the flow of the conversation dictate the course. The doorbell does not work, so I knock on the door. After some rumblings, the door finally opens.

“Hello,” Elisha says in a thick Caribbean accent.

“Hello, Elisha Davis, my name is Minister Nic Dungy, and I'm here on behalf of Pastor Cole's last request.”

Elisha remains stoic. I mean, the news did have an impact, but not much. Maybe I'm expecting a little more from a girl who just lost her father. Regardless of how strained the relationship was between the two, Pastor Cole was still her father. Elisha took another moment to size me up. I can tell that she isn't sure if I'm someone that she can trust.

“Come on in,” Elisha says and opens the door.

If no one told me that Elisha is Pastor Cole's daughter, I wouldn't have guessed. There is a case that could be made for the full lips and nose that resembles Cole's, but even her complexion is a shade darker than the coffee skin of Cole.

I enter the home, and Elisha makes a beeline to the kitchen. The living room is full of family portraits. Pastor Cole is missing from all of them, of course. It's safe to assume that Elisha must've had her name changed to her mother's last name.

It's a full-time job covering up the past. Who knows what else Pastor Cole kept from the public's eye? I wonder what was Pastor Cole hiding that cost him his life.

These pictures can't answer those questions for me. I suspect that if there are any pictures of Elisha with Cole, those pictures are hidden from plain sight. There are a list of accomplishments that stop with Elisha graduating from Florida A&M. Her accomplishments tell a story that Pastor Cole's influence and money had a hand in telling.

“Here you go,” Elisha comes back into the living room with a glass of lemonade.

“Thank you.” I'm not much of a lemonade drinker. I prefer ice tea, but it is rare to meet a girl like Elisha who still has manners. We sit down on a couch.

“So you knew my father?”

“No, I didn't. I met him a couple of times, but that was it.” I took a sip of the lemonade and set it down on the coffee table in front of me. Not bad, a little too tart, but for someone who used to drink Jack Daniels for breakfast, I can manage.

“You must have a high opinion of him to be here on his behalf.”

“Not really,” I say without any hesitation.

“Neither did I; at least you're honest. So why are you here?”

I have forgotten that there is an envelope inside my jacket pocket. I reach in and hand it over to Elisha. Elisha doesn't waste any time opening it. She scans the letter and the check that is attached. I expect to see a smile on her face; instead, she looks perplexed. Elisha's perplexity morphs into anger without warning.

“Is this a joke?” Elisha turns the check around and shows me a payment made out to her for $1 million.

I swallow wrong, and the tartness of the lemonade makes me pay for it. I cough several times before I regain my faculties. “Excuse me?”

“This is only
half
of what I was promised. Where is the rest?”

I'm floored at this point, because I made it a rule not to enter a room uninformed, and I must be the smartest person in the room. I allowed Pastor Bryant to let me walk into a room where I am short on both, and now I need to try to grasp the gravity of the situation.

“Let's relax and calm down. I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation for this.”

“Unless you have another check on you for $1 million, there is nothing to explain. All I need you to do is go and get me my money.” Elisha cocks her head to the side.

The island hospitality has left, and I'm still spinning my wheels. I took another sip of my lemonade before I set it down again and squared up with Elisha.

“It's good to see that you are taking your father's death real hard.”

“Do you see any father-of-the-year trophies around here? His money and his time were all that was ever worth anything to me.”

“Okay, let's be honest here. What do you expect to accomplish? You expose your father and maybe write a tell-all book, but that's it. Your fifteen minutes are up.” I point to the check. “That story is certainly not worth two million. You may be able to get a half of million. but that's it. That's enough money for a clean slate. Take it.”

I don't know why I am going to bat for Pastor Bryant, seeing that he is trying to rip off a young girl. At this point, I want to put my hands around his throat for playing me.

“Obviously, you don't know what's going on, so why don't you go back to Reverend Slick Daddy and tell him either he pays me what I'm owed or I'll talk.”

What could Elisha have that is more incriminating than the fact that Pastor Cole had a child out of wedlock? My guess, Elisha has something on Pastor Bryant. Why else would Bryant pay so much money to cover up another man's secret?

“Your father was murdered. Aren't you scared for your own safety?”

Elisha just gives me a smirk. “No, not at all. People know not to try anything on me.”

“And why not?” I ask.

“Don't worry about all that. I'm not worried; I can take care of myself.”

A quick chill shoots through my body. Elisha delivers that line with the upmost confidence. She has someone protecting her, but that someone was not protecting her father.
Why
is a common question that keeps coming up for me, and I don't have any answers.

“What about your mother?” I ask.

The mention of Elisha's mother causes her to pause and reflect. It's clear that she doesn't share the same sentiment toward her mother as she does for her father.

“This isn't about my mother.”

“If your mother is around, I'm sure she would advise that this money is more than enough.”

“My mother died six years ago, so at this moment, I no longer have a parent to advise me on anything. So from this moment forth, I choose what's enough and
this
. . .” Elisha holds up the check, “
this
is not enough.”

For years, Elisha has had to have her wants and desires put on the back burner; not any more. Her father got what he wanted; a hidden secret that remained hidden, but what Elisha wants is to live comfortably.

“Now, you have your orders. Be a good boy and go back to Reverend Slick and tell him he better double the amount or else I talk.”

I didn't have a smart retort. I head toward the door with my hat in hand. I just got schooled by a girl who is in her midtwenties at best. I decide to take what's left of my pride and go. A burning question is still on my mind. “You said his money and his time. How often did he ever visit you?”

“He would only visit once a year. He could only stay for an hour, but for that one hour, I didn't feel like a messed-up kid.”

I know exactly what she means as I walk out of the door. If it weren't for my messed-up father, I wouldn't have been a messed-up kid who becomes a confused adult that thinks he can save someone other than himself.

 

 

Later on that night I went to dinner with Sammy, Adele, and Victory at my favorite restaurant on the island. Auroras is a restaurant by the beach. Most of the tables are outside so the patrons can enjoy their meals under the stars. I wouldn't want to be here during hurricane season, but tonight is a perfect night. There is a gentle breeze, and the night sky is full of stars.

I keep replaying my visit with Elisha in my head. There is something off about the situation. Even though her relationship to her father was estranged, Pastor Cole was still Elisha's father. For her not to be concerned over his apparent murder is unsettling, to say the least. Furthermore, she seems unmoved or unconcerned over her own safety.

“Earth to Minister Dungy.” Victory's words snapped me out of my trance and back to the spirited conversation that is happening around me.