A Good Excuse To Be Bad (17 page)

“I just learned what an armor bearer is today. I don't remember when Daddy was alive he used the term in that way.”

“True. It has been a while for you, and the church has changed. But don't worry about what an armor bearer is. You need to find out where this one went and if the rumor is true.”

“Wait a minute. Why are you talking about this to me on the phone?”

He chuckled. “I wouldn't be telling you this if the police didn't already know. Ask Detective Tinsley. He knows about it.”

I took a slow breath. “You know what, Big Tiger? Scratch the duffel bag boy request. I have a better place for my things, but I will need something else from you later.”

“You know I got you, Angel Soft.”

“I hope that's a good thing.” I shook my head. “I'm going to bed early or late, if you don't count that I hadn't slept since Tuesday.”

“You do that. 'Cause tomorrow will be a long one.”

“Not long enough if Ava isn't released.”

 

B
eing a good investigator not only required analytical skill, but the ability to smell a good lie. I'm a pro at both, and Big Tiger's offer had my nose itching. I sat up in bed and thought about what he said some more.

Clearly, Ava held back something important about what happened Thursday night, even Big Tiger saw that. Had Devon's murder been a crime of passion, she would have been more than vocal about it. Her behavior made me believe that she was covering something up, but what? I decided to mind dump all the information I had so far before the frenzied world outside my bedroom made me forget. The kids would be waking soon and I hadn't figured out what to say about my absent twin.

If only Ava cooperated with me, then at least I would have a direction to take. I checked my cell on my nightstand. Perhaps I could get Roger Willis to talk to her, make her understand that unless she shared her secret with someone, she was as good as convicted. I texted him my request.

So far I'd come up with little. Someone close to Ava and Devon had to know about Big Tiger's mistress rumor or why Ava had planned to leave Devon, if that were the case. Terry, the bodyguard, said she was leaving him, but that belief was based on Devon's statement. Or was it? I needed a more solid account. Elvis. He definitely had to know about this armor bearer person, but would he admit it?

Elvis and I had chatted last night. I wanted him to bring dinner over tonight since Mom was bringing our new stepdad over, and he had agreed to help learn more about Ava's case. Elvis invited me to stop by his restaurant today after I hopefully visited Ava, to look at his menu. Before I saw them both, I reminded myself to stop by Big Tiger's. I knew if we sat kneecaps to kneecaps, he would tell me some other things that he wouldn't dare express over the phone. I just hoped they weren't too damaging. The toll of this makeshift investigation not only made me feel guilty, it made me fear to think. What if Ava did kill Devon? Could she have done it? I didn't want to be in the position to believe that could happen. I decided to see Big Tiger before Ava.

I still didn't feel completely awake, so I lay in bed a little longer with my pad and pen in hand, of course. I tried to recall the events of the last two days, then dozed off. The chirp from my cell phone woke me up. I read the caller ID. It was Willis. A surge of energy zapped me straight up.

“Did Ava add me to her visitor list?” I asked.

“Yes, your sister wants to see you.”

I dropped the phone.

“Oh no!” I gasped, then reached to the floor to pick it up, then placed the phone to my ear. “Roger, are you still there?”

“Yes . . .” He cleared his throat. “I wondered if something happened to you. Everything okay over there?”

“It depends on whether Ava's wanting to see me also means that she has been charged for Devon's murder or that she's in custody with you?”

“I'm sorry, Angel. She refused to answer any questions, including mine.”

I'm too late.
I began to cry. I wiped my eyes with my hands.

“So how do you know she wants to see me?” I sniffled.

“Because you're the only other name she wrote down on her visitation log.”

“And who was the other?”

“Your pastor boyfriend, Justus.”

“He's not my boyfriend.” I sighed. “I'll get down there as soon as I can,” I promised, looking around the room for something clean to wear. I hadn't washed clothes in a while. Before I could sort out the day's clothes, my phone rang again. I leaned toward my nightstand and read the caller ID box. It was Justus.
God, thank you.

“Justus Morgan calling in, reporting for duty, ma'am. What can I do for you this morning? I have the whole day free,” he said.

“I had forgotten, but I'm glad you didn't. There are so many things we need to do.”

“Like?”

“I know this sounds cornball, but the first thing I need is a good breakfast. I dreamt of your pancakes last night . . .”

“Mission accomplished. I was thinking the same thing,” he said.

My doorbell rang.

“Don't tell me you're standing outside my door.”

“Well, then, how about . . .” He paused. “I'm carrying a basket of fresh flapjacks, red-hot sausage links, and a bottle of sugar cane syrup in my arms while I stand on your porch. By the way, the cane syrup is a hometown favorite for you, right?”

My stomach applauded with a large growl. I rubbed my tummy. “I'm on my way down.”

 

 

After the family, Justus, and I stuffed ourselves with more pancakes, he and I stole away to my private office. I wanted to talk with him about my upcoming visit to see Ava. I hoped he could come with me. Perhaps she would tell him why she doesn't want my help, since he was a minister.

My private office wasn't inside my home, but stood behind it. Our house came with a cute guest bungalow in the back. The previous owner's bachelor son lived in it before he inherited this home from his parents four years ago. Apparently, the bungalow was his parents' first home; then they made the home we live in shortly before their deaths when this area became a subdivision. He sold me the home after he married some burlesque dancer he met in Las Vegas with a strict stipulation that he would never share with me or anyone I knew the details of his bachelorhood in that bungalow. Yet, I was a bit curious of what foolishness happened back here.

I had the bungalow renovated with some of the money from my severance package from the
Sentinel
. It now had a secured weapons room, a sparring room, my cased antique weaponry collection in the foyer, and a property surveillance station where the dining room was, definitely not cute or open for boom-boom room performances anymore. But I did keep the stripper pole.

My best friend, Charlie, said it was great for exercise . . . which reminded me I needed to call her. She would not believe what has happened the one week of the year she was out of town. Then again, with my life, she might not be surprised at all. But Justus walking beside me in my backyard toward my inner sanctum would turn her world on its axis. No one came back here, not even her.

See, this was my spot. What I loved the most about it was that it was quiet here and not too far away from the kids. Besides, I could see everyone's room from here except Whitney's. She had more privacy than me, to some extent, but that's a perk for being single, parentless, and our little spoiled sister, I guess.

I led Justus past my garden. The office was on the other side.

He stopped short of the tomato patch and knelt down. “Is that a vegetable garden?” He touched the leaves.

I nodded. “It's my idea of sustainable living short of a chicken coop and an outhouse, but I do have a well, no prying pump, though, and no water in there either. But I've been thinking about dropping a pond back here to help with the irrigation for these tomatoes. Maybe put some bass and perch out there, so I can teach Bella how to fish.”

He got on all fours, then frowned. “Are those disposable diapers in there?”

“Yes, they keep the soil moist so that I can grow bigger tomatoes.”

He chuckled. “Are you serious?”

“I'm the daughter of a country preacher, Justus. I'm very serious. The price of tomatoes makes it very serious. Why?”

He squinted at me, then looked around my backyard. “Angel, you're so interesting. Every day it's something new about you that makes me wonder.”

“Wonder about what?”

“Why your backyard is so much larger than mine.” He stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees, and came to where I was standing. “And . . . why I haven't gotten to know you sooner.” He smiled.

“Well, wait until you see what's inside my office. You might not feel the same way.”

I placed my “Don't Ring Unless Your Life Depends on It” door knocker outside before I closed the door behind Justus. If his mouth dropped any lower, he would look like the film poster of
Scream 2
mounted behind my desk. The film was shot at Agnes Scott College while I was there. Covering the filming for the
Sentinel
while I interned there launched my journalism career and helped me discover that I had a fascination with the tongue-in-cheek slasher films and knives. Justus's shocked expression and heavy sighing as he studied my antique dagger collection made me wonder how he would react once he saw the pole. Did he have the mindset to be my sidekick?

It was dark, always dark in here except for the cabinet lights in the weapons display case, which I liked, but being alone with Too-Hot-to-Be-Holy Morgan, I had to find the light.

The lights came on. I turned around.

Justus stood by my lamp. “What's up with the knives?”

“I like them and they're daggers by the way.” I shrugged, then walked passed him toward the blinds. “It still seems dark in here. Usually I have the blinds open, but with the media outside, I've had to keep them closed.”

“Why are you changing the subject? What's wrong, Angel?” he asked.

“Because I can see your mind turning and I don't want it to get stuck on stupid . . .” I paused. “I'm just tired.”

He stretched out his arms to me. “Come here.”

The way he looked at me made me step back.

“What now?” he asked.

“I don't want to get used to you and me like this.”

“Why not?” He came closer.

“Because of the look of despair in Ava's eyes. I know what that feels like, and I don't want to feel that again.” I moved farther away from him and stood on the opposite side of the room, near my hammock. I laid in there, to strategize. “I called you in here because I need to tell you that I spoke with Roger this morning. Ava has added both our names to her visitation list. Visiting hours start soon. I'm going. Do you want to come with?”

“First, tell me about Bella's father. What happened?”

“You're not going to judge me?”

He held his hand out. “Have I said anything about the stripper poll?”

“Okay,” I said. I took his hand in mine. “But let's get going to the jail first.” I left out that I was dropping him off to visit with Ava while I stopped in to see Big Tiger.

 

I
dropped Justus off at the jail, then went to see Big Tiger.

Avondale was a tiny Shakespearean-inspired district nestled inside the city of Decatur. The neighborhood front yards always bloomed with every flowering plant, perhaps the source of the great smell in the air. Houses with wraparound porches and sidewalks wide enough to push a double stroller through waved at you as you drove past. “Come on over and swing a while,” they called out to me. I thought of home.

More historic downtowns in the Atlanta vicinity had begun to mimic what Avondale had always done. My new hometown, Sugar Hill, was one of those cities. I didn't notice the resemblance until now.

I made another left now onto Covington Walk near the Kensington MARTA train station. Ava and I once rented a townhouse over there. It was nicer then than what I saw now. Bunches of young girls wearing barely-there shorts, tank tops, and so many tatts on their bodies you couldn't decipher where one ended and another began. Some of them had small children, who clung to the arms of white tee-wearing men, whose pants hung and sagged well past their waists. They all stood there between bits of trash that sanitation services missed or refused to pick up, all gathered in clumps along the curbs. I wondered where the older people were. Had disinvestments pushed them out, or was it the sad reality of what I just witnessed that had broken their hearts, too?

I sighed. When did being poor mean not having pride?

Ava and I used to walk to this MARTA station to meet our dates. She met Devon and I met whomever he dragged along with him.

Mama had advised us the day we moved here to never let a man know where we lived. Ava followed Mama's wisdom for about three months. I lived by that with one exception, Justus. Had I not been tired, angry, stressed, and in need of much prayer—shoot—I would have let him in.

I parked in front of Big Tiger's office. It was an old brick ranch remodeled into an office that sat off Covington Drive about two minutes from the jail. I walked inside and smelled mint and bleach. Maybe the older people were over here.

“Angel Soft . . .” Big Tiger yelled out the screen door and swung it open to greet me. “How about that girl?”

He was Justus's height, dark rich skin that smelled and resembled Noble muscadines, a broad physique that could choke a rock, but dressed as if he were stuck in a time warp. He dressed like the old Dope Boys from East Lake Meadows back in the early 1990s in a crushed velvet track suit and overpriced sneakers with a sick gold chain. I noticed the wedding ring on his finger, then smiled. Now I knew what had the office smelling like Granny's idea of clean.

“Hi, Big Tiger.” I hugged him and walked inside. “Where's the wife?”

“I'm looking right at her.”

“No, you ain't.” I patted his shoulder. “Where's Mama D?”

“She's in the kitchen eating. We're making chicken dinners for Mama's church building fund. You know how I do.” He licked his lips and looked at me as if he would serve me up next.

I felt a little warm. “You've seen Ava?”

He nodded. “Girl didn't look like she'd eaten soul food in decades. Shoot. She looked like she hadn't eaten any food since high school. And I know ain't no real food out in the boondocks where you live, so you'd better get a plate.”

“Thanks for the offer, but I can't.”

“What's wrong with you? You've never turned down Ma's plates before. And I ain't never known you to be this quiet except when . . .” He looked me up and down, then leaned back. “What's his name?”

“His name is tell me more about this mistress rumor.”

Big Tiger sucked his teeth. “To be a preacher's child, you sure is rude, Angel Soft.”

Big Tiger called me Angel Soft because he thought I was softer than Ava, although everyone around me—everyone—thought I was a bad seed. He was the first to see the good in me. Don't get me wrong. He was also the first man to bring out my bad.

“I'm not trying to be, just want to get Ava home before her kids have a meltdown. Why don't you have kids by now?”

“Don't know, unless your little angel is mine.”

I punched him in the gut, walked toward his front window, and peered outside. A black SUV had made a right onto Memorial Drive. That was the third one of its kind I saw on my way here.

I checked my watch, then turned back to Big Tiger. “You didn't tell anybody that Ava would be coming here, did you?”

He folded his arms over his chest and tilted his head. “I might be black, but I ain't stupid. I slip in and out of the Dec with no pigeons chirping. I'm a shadow, baby.”

Oh, brother. I rolled my eyes. Big Tiger had the most colorful language, and his words sang out of his mouth like a jazz poet's. He always stayed abreast of the hottest slang, but slid in a few of his own signature catch phrases, like the Dec. It was short for Decatur. I once could listen to him for days. Today I didn't have the time.

“Angel Soft, I didn't stutter when I asked you what's the joker's name who has you so bent out of shape? Is he the baby daddy?”

“No, joker. Ain't no dude—” I caught myself. Now I'd begun to sound like him. “Devon's dead, Big Tiger. That's messed up. My mind is all over the place trying to make sense of this. I'm just tired. Ava being home will help me rest easy, okay?”

“Nope, I'm not buying that.” He shook his head. “You got me confused with them snobs up in the hills where you live. I remember when you staked out Pretty Tony's place for five days in that old Hyundai Excel you used to live in. Your eyes didn't blink until your camera stopped snapping shots of him, Kevin Dobbs, Cherry Jenkins, and them lost girls from the Avondale Children's Shelter. So sleep ain't your problem. Something else is. What is it?”

“Besides the fact that you talk too much . . . That was back then and I'm not dealing with pimps and preteens anymore.” I caught myself again. The other night with Cade wasn't too far from back then. “I'm dealing with Big Faith again. You know what happened the last time I messed with them, huh? My sister disowned me.”

“Yeah, but something ain't right about how that all went down either.”

“Detective Salvador agrees.”

“Why doesn't he ask the
Sentinel
for theirs? That's not your responsibility anymore.”

“Unless he already did and he didn't find what he's looking for.”

“And what do you think that is?”

“I don't know, but if I have to dig it up for him, I might as well take another look at it myself. I'll be up all night, though.”

“Why don't you ask your sister first and save some time?”

“I can't ask her . . .” My eyes rolled. I stopped myself. “I promised her I wouldn't snoop around.”

“So now you're keeping promises, too?” He chuckled.

“Nope.” I huffed. “Motherhood makes you grow up a little.”

“Good thing I'm not one.” He chuckled and sat down. “What about what I told you yesterday? You think there's some truth to it?”

“You tell me.”

He leaned back in his chair and looked out his window. “I heard she was a member of the church, a young girl, groomed to be an armor bearer for your sister.” “If she's no longer a member of the church, where is she? What's her name?”

He straightened up, leaned forward, all eyes and gold teeth on me. “Her name is Rachel Newton, and I don't have a clue where she is, but I know someone who does.”

“Who?”

“Your girlfriend that owns the beauty salon near Stone Mountain.”

“Halle?”

“Yep, I used to see Rachel all the time when Mama had me drop off a few dinners to her shop.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“A few weeks ago. Two weeks ago, to be sure. She was in the office in tears. I remember now.”

“Have any idea why she was crying?”

“What else, a man.” He reached his hands to mine. “Don't let this new dude put your nose up in the air. Bella needs a daddy, and I'm willing and able.”

I stood up. “I know that. Thanks for the offer, but Bella has a father, and like I said before, I don't have a man.”

He raised his hand in the air. “Put your gun back in your holster, Angel Soft. I was just offering you a better alternative.”

“I don't have time for propositions. I need to find this Rachel girl like yesterday.”

Big Tiger folded his arms over his chest. “Well, I'll do a little chirping on my own and see which birdie is flying.”

“Would you?”

“For sure, and if you need a Dumpster diver, I know a good girl who can decode a credit card number off a coffee-stained receipt while it's stuck between the napkin and the coffee cup.”

He handed me a card. I slid it into my purse. “I have to see her do that myself.”

“Let me know and I'll set it up.”

I looked at the card. “Her name is familiar to me.”

“Give yourself a little time. It'll come back to you.” Big Tiger turned toward the back kitchen door. We heard voices coming. “You sure you don't want a plate?”