The Truth Is the Light (16 page)

Chapter 32

A
ngela couldn't wait to get home and go through the words in the journal her great-grandmother had written and left. Angela's children were down for the night.

Brent was watching some television show that made no sense to her. She'd told him she was going over to Arletha's house after Arletha called.

Brent, at first, questioned why she didn't just wait and go the next day. But he quickly nodded as soon as the words left his mouth. He knew his wife well. It had been a week of waiting and Angela didn't want to wait any longer to find answers to at least a few of her questions. That's if there were any answers to be found in that journal. Otherwise, she would have to try a different approach that could very well involve DNA testing, although she would have to get each party's consent to do something like that.

In her bedroom, Angela began reading, more like scanning, the pages. She was looking for something specific . . . something that would point her to Ransom Perdue. She had seen his name in the journal the first time she'd gone through it. But it didn't mean anything then. This time, she was determined to pay closer attention . . . to look for code writing, which was what she believed her great-grandmother would have done if she wanted to tell something without coming right out and telling it.

Then she saw something written in the journal.

 

 

Angela turned the page and read some more.

 

 

There were other things penned.

 

It was obvious to Angela from the way this journal was done that Pearl had written all of this after the fact. Like the Old and parts of the New Testament of the Bible, things occurred, but at the time it was happening, no one thought it important enough to write it down. Then after the significance was known, it was imperative to recall and record events for generations to come.

April 28, 1943, the date Angela had determined, give or take a few weeks, Arletha would have been conceived. Now all she needed to establish was that Ransom Perdue actually was there during that time and not merely as a dream as her great-grandmother was trying to lead anyone who happened to read this journal to believe.

Angela believed her great-granny wanted someone to figure this out if already pointed in that direction. But Great-granny didn't want to put something out there if that person had no idea what to look for. Angela knew what she was looking for. She was beginning to put the pieces together, thanks to her having looked into the eyes of Ransom Perdue.

Now all she needed was to decide who to go to with this information first. Should she tell Arletha? Maybe discuss it with Johnnie Mae? After all, Johnnie Mae
was
the person to whom her great-grandmother had left the entire box of information. Should she pay Ransom Perdue a visit at the nursing home before she took this any further? He would be the best person, wouldn't he? What other living person could answer the questions she posed better than him? Ransom would know if there was something more between him and her great-grandmother. He would know, as her great-granny so often would say, whether she was “barking up the wrong tree.”

Ransom Perdue would know if something actually happened that could have
possibly
led to Arletha's—her grandmother's—birth.

Chapter 33

R
everend Walker watched as Raquel sashayed into her office and sat down at her desk.

“You wanted to see me?” Reverend Walker said, almost smiling as he awaited the good news he was anticipating after being suddenly summoned by Raquel. “I'm hoping your call means you have some good news for me.” He smiled and leaned forward.

“That depends.”

“On?”

“On how honest you've been, and how well your financial records have been kept and filed.”

“So what are you saying? That phone call my office received to come here was legit and not just your way of getting me into your office on an official pretense to discuss my submitted complaint against Pastor Landris?” Reverend Walker frowned.

Raquel leaned in. “We're still following up on your complaint. Although I must say, from everything we have discovered so far, there's nothing there. Nothing. In fact, the way things look, we actually owe George Landris a refund with interest on monies he was legally entitled to have written off that he didn't, or didn't need to have included that he did. The man is as straight as they come. Frankly, I'm impressed with him.”

“I don't believe that.”

“What are you implying?” Raquel said.

“I'm not implying anything. But you can't tell me you can't find anything wrong going over there at that church or with the good Pastor Landris. I know a lot of ministers and other high-ranking businesspeople. Everybody tries to game the system some way or another,” Reverend Walker said.

“Which is why you're here right now. There are complaints that have been recently filed on
you
that suggest there
are
some real problems. Going back just three years, there's income you received that you didn't list in your tax filings. There were gifts listed, like your church paying off all your credit cards and a few personal loans totaling nearly one hundred thousand dollars. You and your wife each received a Mercedes-Benz, and neither of the values were reported,” Raquel said, reading from an opened folder on her desk. “
Two
Mercedes . . . his and hers. Sweet.” She looked up.

“Those were love offerings . . . gifts. They don't count as income. They were things our church wanted to do for us. Various church members came together and bought us those cars. They paid the insurance and gave us a gift certificate for services, like oil changes.”

“Oh, believe me, all of that is listed in this complaint,” Raquel said as she wrote something. “Except for the insurance and oil change gift certificates you just mentioned.”

“Who filed that complaint? Because whoever it is must be someone out to get me. People had better be careful. The Bible clearly admonishes folks not to touch God's anointed ones.”

“Does that threat include me?” Raquel said.

“Threat?” Reverend Walker said. “I wasn't threatening anyone. I was merely quoting the Bible. This is still America. We still have freedom of speech and freedom of religion. I was merely stating what the Bible has to say.” He sat back in his chair. “I would never threaten someone like you. Never.”

“Well, I thought since you and I were already working together on the complaint you lodged against Pastor Landris, it was only fair that I tell you about this in person. I wouldn't want you to think there was anything nefarious taking place here. You know, you file a complaint against someone, we decide to look into you. That sort of thing. We don't do that. So I thought it best and fair to have you come in, and I tell you this face-to-face.” She closed the folder.

“Can you tell me who filed the complaint against me?”

“Actually, there have been several filed against you—one from a Moses Beam, another from a group of deacons in your church. But to be honest with you, the one that
really
got our attention was filed by Jeanette Means. Ironically, all of these came in right around the time you filed your complaint against George Landris.”

“Bunch of venomous snakes. Did these people file anonymously the way I did against Pastor Landris?”

“No. If they had, I wouldn't be disclosing their names to you. They apparently don't feel a need to hide their identity from you or anyone else. They don't care who knows they're filing these complaints on you,” Raquel said.

“Moses Beam is just an envious old preacher who wishes he could draw to his failed church the number of people I have just on my Pastor's Aide board.”

“I take it the money you receive from the Pastor's Aide has been included in your reported income.”

“Why should it?” Reverend Walker frowned and pulled his body back in defiance. “It's a gift. As a preacher, I'm entitled to receive gifts from people. I don't report my birthday presents to the IRS. Who does? Those are gifts, and it's silly we're even having this discussion.”

“Not so silly, Reverend Walker. Certainly you are entitled to gifts, but there are rules and regulations that govern those gifts and the amounts received before it must be reported.” She wrote something else on a stick-it note and put the note inside the folder.

“And those crooked deacons are just mad because they want to run things, and I've told them God placed me in my position, and I'm in charge, not them. That's the problem with some deacons. That's why a lot of churches have gotten rid of the deacon board altogether. Well, I don't need to have to report everything I'm doing or thinking of doing to them. If God is telling me to do something, they don't need to try to stop me. When will folks learn? They can't stop God's program.”

“Okay. And Jeanette Means?”

“Miss Jeanette . . . she was my secretary. She worked for me for years, more than two decades, if we're actually keeping count.”

“That's what she stated in her written complaint. She has provided us with some shocking papers and proof. I suppose she must have kept a record of years of
everything
.”

“That's illegal, isn't it? I mean, if she was taking things from the church like that without us knowing she was doing it?”

“Reverend Walker, out of appreciation and respect for your son, Knowledge, let me give you some good advice. When you receive your official letter, cooperate fully. Don't try to lie, because you'll only be adding perjury to all of this other stuff. And if I were you, I would start praying right now that this is resolved on the IRS side and not end up as a criminal investigation. Because based on what I've seen so far without the kind of scrutiny this is about to receive, paying back taxes and penalties, which are likely going to be massive, will be a lot better than adding jail time along with it.” Raquel stood up to signal to him that their unofficial, official meeting was over.

“You can take that for what it's worth,” she said. “But as you like to remind me, Knowledge was good to me and my family. He helped save my mother and father's house and their 150 acres of land years ago. And for that, I will eternally be grateful. You wanted to meet informally to file a report, anonymously, on George Landris. I did that. Your certified letter from the IRS will be arriving in the next couple of weeks. Take care of it as best and as quickly as you can, if you're given that opportunity. Because otherwise, it's not going to be pretty. I see what's coming down the pipes. And from all I see that's merely alleged, you'll be lucky if you still have a church or a congregation when you're finished.” She held out her hand to shake his.

He looked at her hand.
How could something like this be happening to me?
he thought.
Bunch of traitors. I hope God strikes them all down!

He then shook Raquel's hand as though her fingers were limp noodles, and left.

Chapter 34

P
astor Landris spoke at Reverend Walker's church. The congregation was mixed with those from Followers of Jesus Faith Worship Center and Divine Conquerors Church. It was an overflow crowd. Pastor Landris had done very few speaking engagements lately. He was well received. Many of the members of the host church came up to Pastor Landris and told him how much they enjoyed his teaching and how much they had learned in just those few minutes he was up in the pulpit.

Reverend Walker overheard some of his members and lamented that he'd had the wild idea of inviting Pastor Landris in the first place. He had believed his members were going to solidly reject Pastor Landris's style of preaching. Instead, things appeared to have completely and totally backfired. And to top everything off, Clarence had sung “I Trust You” by James Fortune & FIYA and had everybody in that building (except for the ones who were rocking or shouting in their seats) on their feet giving praises.

Nothing seemed to be going the way Marshall Walker had thought. He had hoped by the time Pastor Landris came to preach, news would have leaked out that he was under investigation from the IRS. Instead, he was now the one who was possibly looking to have that information break in the news.

A businessman who had expressed interest in expanding near the area where both Pastor Landris and Reverend Walker's churches were approached both preachers after the service was over.

“Pastor Landris . . . Reverend Walker. My name is William Threadgill. I was wondering if I might have a moment of your time,” Mr. Threadgill said.

Neither preacher said anything one way or the other.

Noting their hesitation, Mr. Threadgill pulled out a business card and handed each man one. He continued. “I have tried making an appointment with each of your secretaries to speak with you privately. For whatever reason, I've not been able to get past them to speak with you directly.”

“Okay,” Reverend Walker said, reading the information on the business card. “So what is this about?” They were on their way to give Pastor Landris his love offering for speaking so Pastor Landris could leave.

“I'd like to speak to you both about a business proposition from one of our high-level elected officials, who would be interested in possibly partnering with you. I believe it will bring lots of funds to each of you as well as your respective churches. I'm also a businessman, and I'd like to speak with you about a separate proposition I have. I'd love to sit down with both of you and tell you more about it. I'd prefer to not give any prudent information in a setting such as this, though. You understand.”

“I believe you've already sent something to us, and we're not interested,” Pastor Landris said, handing him his card back.

“Pastor Landris,” Mr. Threadgill said, “there will be a substantial payment for both of you regardless of the final outcome. Even bigger if we can make this project work. I believe we can. The elected official I represent can help make some things happen for you. I think you should at least hear his proposal out before you walk away.”

“As I've said,” Pastor Landris repeated, “we received a hint of your proposal and it's not something our congregation is interested in participating in either now or at a later date.”

Mr. Threadgill chuckled. “See, Pastor Landris, I don't think you realize just how much money you're walking away from when you say that. Your church, which I'm sure has some worthy projects you're presently working to accomplish, could probably use some extra funds. I'm talking about six figures available just to you if you can see your way to support this. What would it hurt for you to hear me out?”

Reverend Walker's ears had perked up the first time Mr. Threadgill mentioned something was possibly available to him. And the church certainly could use the money. With the economy still down and the number of people leaving Divine Conquerors Church and taking their money with them, the church's collections had been down massively.

That's why he had let Miss Jeanette go. She had been loyal. She'd always gone above and beyond the call of duty. Whatever was asked of her, she did it, and then some. But it was either cut his own salary somewhat or get rid of a few people on staff. There was no way he could live on less money, even if it had been a small cut. He had no choice but to let Miss Jeanette go. But he did take up a special offering for her for all of her years of service at the church. He then encouraged someone with good secretarial skills to come forward and give their talents to the service of the Lord.

Someone did step forward on a volunteer basis.
Why waste money paying someone when you can get the same work for free?
he thought.

Reverend Walker had some things coming down on him. Raquel had forewarned him. He'd extended a hand to Pastor Landris, and now it appeared God was opening a door for him with money and access to a high-level elected official, someone in a position to make things happen, including making some things go away. Contrary to what was being implied, he and Mr. Threadgill had already spoken enough on a previous occasion for him to realize that much. Pastor Landris might not want to walk through this door, but he couldn't afford not to. He stayed and spoke with Mr. Threadgill a few minutes longer.

Reverend Walker hurried to his office, where Pastor Landris had gone to before him and was waiting while he finished talking with Mr. Threadgill.

“Pastor Landris, the congregation really seemed to enjoy the message you preached this afternoon,” Reverend Walker said cheerily. “Now, I know you said you weren't charging us a specific price to preach here today. So please accept this check as a love offering from us at Divine Conquerors. Let me know if it's not enough.” He handed Pastor Landris an envelope with a check for a thousand dollars inside—a total that Ralph, the church treasurer, had balked at when he'd told him to cut it.

Reverend Walker had quietly explained to Ralph that Pastor Landris was no run-of-the-mill, little country preacher who would be happy with the customary two hundred fifty to five hundred dollars they generally paid the other preachers who visited them. Pastor Landris was a man with a following, a minister known throughout the United States. To get someone of his caliber to even step foot in their presence would generally cost them closer to ten thousand. One thousand dollars was cheap. And they would have had to pay the others' travel and hotel expenses in addition to that amount had they flown in a preacher comparable to Pastor Landris's level.

Ralph had agreed. He always went along with Reverend Walker in the end. And after Pastor Landris preached and the collection was taken up, Ralph saw, without a doubt, that Reverend Walker had been more than right. Those in attendance were beyond generous—that measly one thousand dollars had been a mere investment in the church's ultimate financial return that afternoon.

“Thank you,” Pastor Landris said as he took the envelope without opening it to see how much the check was.

“Oh, and Pastor—” Reverend Walker pulled out another envelope from inside his Armani suit jacket. “This is a love gift given to me to give to you from someone who was in attendance here and asked me to pass it along, since they were unable to do so themselves.”

Pastor Landris accepted the envelope more cautiously. Mostly because the envelope bulged, which indicated to him it contained cash money. And from the size and the weight of it, he could only conclude someone had put a lot of one-dollar bills inside of it, fifty to seventy-five dollars maybe. But Pastor Landris was used to things like this—people giving him love offerings, money, and other gifts, wanting to bless him, sometimes slipping their last few dollars in his hand when they shook it.

That was something he used to fight against. He used to try to give it back to them, until one of the Mothers of the church—Mother Robinson—told him point blank, “Pastor, don't block our blessings. When you won't receive what someone is trying to do or to give you, whether they're being obedient to the Holy Spirit or just wanting to bless you, you block
their
blessings by not receiving it.”

Early on, it had still been hard for him to accept money from people he knew were struggling but desiring to give him something out of their appreciation or love. But after he started receiving these gifts and offerings without telling them no or that they didn't have to do that, he began praying special prayers and blessings for them. And the praise reports started pouring in from every one of those givers.

He figured this envelope, filled with some amount of cash, was merely from another person who wanted to bless him the best way they knew how. He would open the envelope later, hope whoever had given it had put a note with their name inside of it. He would then pray for them, just as he'd done for so many others.