A Good Excuse To Be Bad (25 page)

If Rachel and I hadn't just spoken to each other, I would have thought the place was vacant. No porch light on. No carport lights on. No car in the drive, nothing but a dark house on a barely lit, secluded street on the edge of Avondale Estates and Clarkston. This smelled like a setup to me.

It began to rain, pour, actually. Good thing I wore a tracksuit with a hood, but my cute Halle-Do would be done the moment I stepped out of the car. I didn't want to get out, and by the looks of Big Tiger, he did not either.

“Are you sure this is the place?” he asked.

I nodded. “Just as sure as I have ten fingers.”

“And why are you so sure?”

I put my hood over my head and opened the door. “Cause I once lived here.”

We ran up the stairs as fast we could. I huffed when we reached the lawn. I wasn't totally drenched, but Big Tiger was. It took him a little longer to get here. I told him one day all that smoking would catch up to him. I rang the doorbell.

No one answered. I leaned toward the door to hear any movement. Nothing. That bothered me.

I turned to Big Tiger. “Don't count yourself out just yet. You might have to pop this door.”

I turned the knob. The door opened. It creaked when we opened it. We both stepped back. Big Tiger pushed behind me.

“What?” I whispered to him. “Don't start being protective of me now.”

He put his finger over his mouth and waved his hand under his neck to tell me that for our safety, we needed to be quiet. I nodded and shut up. We didn't open the door any farther.

My heart raced. What in the world had I gotten myself into now?

I peeked inside and touched the threshold floor panel with my hand. It was soaked. Inside, the house was pitch black and creepy silent except for the creaking door. I felt like a high-school cheerleader walking into a horror flick. I stepped back again and bumped into Big Tiger.

I jumped, he caught me. “Angel, stop.”

I caught my breath and then whispered, “Why don't you go in first?”

He snickered. “Oh, now you want me to lead? Your timing, Angel Soft . . .”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I want you as the man to lead, please.”

“It's about time.” He moved in front of me. “Stay back here where you belong.”

I nudged him on his right side. “Watch it.”

Big Tiger peeked through the door like I had just done and walked in. I stood outside holding on to the brick wall as if I could climb it if I needed to. My heart beat so fast, I thought I would choke on it.

A few seconds later, the lights came on.

I sighed. “Big Tiger, is that you?”

Nothing. He didn't respond, but a thunderous boom from inside vibrated the porch floorboards at the same time a huge lightning bolt rippled through the sky ten counts away from the house. My hands trembled, so I had to kneel down and hold them.

“Big Tiger?” I whispered.

My phone buzzed against my thigh. Before Big Tiger and I arrived, I had put my phone on vibrate mode. The way it felt against my skin made me want to jump out of my skin.

An even louder noise, accompanied by shattered glass, pelted the porch like hail. The noise rang through my ear. I dropped my entire body to the floor and threw my hands over my head. I couldn't hear or see. I reached for my phone. My fingers trembled so bad that when I pulled it out, my hands slipped. The phone fell to the floor and flew across the porch. I reached for it.

I scrambled back under the window and did not move. That sound wasn't thunder. It was the sound of a double-barrel shotgun, a bounty hunter's nightmare. Was Big Tiger okay? I was too scared to find out.

I heard the phone buzz again. I cringed.
Please, don't let the gunman hear that.
I prayed until my nerves calmed down.

I observed the distance from the front porch to Big Tiger's car. If I ran fast and low, I could get to it. But I couldn't drive away because I had no keys and I wouldn't leave Big Tiger. My heart sank. Maybe I could put the car in neutral and coast out the drive. A satellite police station was less than a block away. I hoped they'd heard the shots. But then I remembered Big Tiger had a few rifles in his trunk. My Glock was in my purse. I had to get to them.

The front door swung open. I cowered, then tried to be still as a statue, but my stomach wouldn't keep quiet.

Then someone grabbed my shoulders. My heart sat in my throat. I couldn't scream, but I kicked and flared my legs and arms like a wild woman.

“It's me,” a familiar voice said. “Salvador.”

I stopped fighting and opened my eyes until they focused on his lollipop head.

“Thank goodness you're here. My friend—” I pointed toward the front door, then tried to scramble off the floor. “He's inside. Someone inside shot at us. Big Tiger . . .” I panted. “I'm going inside.”

“No, you don't.” Salvador helped me up. “You don't need to come inside.”

“Yes, I do. My boss, Mr. Jones, is inside.”

“No, he isn't.” He looked over my shoulders and tilted his head. “Mr. Jones is behind you.”

I looked. Big Tiger stood behind us. There was a huge gash on his forehead and standing next to him was Ava. She wore that jacked up chiffon dress I wore to Night Candy last week.

“How?” I blinked and stumbled forward. “What are you doing here and when were you released?”

Salvador turned back to me. “Your pastor boyfriend didn't tell you? Apparently he has higher connections than you.”

I smiled and thought of Justus. He told me to trust him.

“Well, your sister had been in processing all evening, but now she's going back to the correction center for good.”

“What?” My head began to throb. I was confused. I caught his arm. “Why?”

“For double murder. Wachoothink?”

“What?” I looked around us. Squad cars and ambulances began to line the street. A twinge of déjà vu hit me. I turned back to Salvador. “Who's dead now?”

“Rachel Newton and her baby are dead.”

I moved past him and looked inside the house. Rachel's body lay on the floor near the front door along with the handkerchief I gave Ava the night she left the kids with me.

I looked at my sister with so much disappointment and pain. I cried. She just stood there as a uniform handcuffed her. She appeared as stonefaced as she once did when Mama caught her red-handed in Granny's cookie jar. I wanted to slap her.

Instead, I shook my head and sat on the porch.

“Are you okay, Angel?” Salvador asked.

“No, man.” I sighed. “How did y'all get here so soon?”

“Your pastor, he told me you would be here.”

“What?” I stood up. “How did he know?”

My phone still buzzed on the porch.

Salvador glanced at it. “I think that's him. He can tell you himself.”

“No, I don't want to know right now. Can I see my sister before she is processed?” I asked.

Salvador nodded. “Yeah, obviously you two will have a lot to discuss again, but keep it shorter than the last time. You can follow us to the jail again, too, unless you don't think you're good enough to drive.”

“And what about Mr. Jones?” I referred to Big Tiger. “What will happen to him?”

“The EMT will transport him to Dekalb Medical for a little stitch work to his face and then he's free to go.”

“Maybe I should follow him and meet you at the jail later. I'm confused.”

Salvador touched my shoulder. He looked at me, then reached in his coat jacket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He handed it to me. “It's over, Angel. I hope you see that now.”

My eyes were so filled with tears I couldn't see anything. My mind was so flooded with sorrow I couldn't process a decent thought.

 

T
hey walked Ava toward yet another police sedan, and I sat back on the steps and dropped my head in my lap. The phone buzzed again. I looked at it, but I didn't pick it up. The only person I wanted to talk to at that moment was Ava.

I stood up and walked down the steps toward her. She stood near the squad car with her hands folded across her chest. They had taken her cuffs off. We all knew she didn't plan to run.

Salvador turned toward me. “Two minutes, then you'll have to read her statement just like everyone else.”

I nodded and waited for him to walk away. I stood in front of her. She didn't look at me.

I hissed. “Why did you lie to me?”

Ava set her gaze on a button on my shirt or a necklace. Her behavior angered me so bad I wanted to ring her neck.

“Ava, look at me,” I demanded. “Why didn't you tell me about Rachel?”

She looked up at me. Her eyes seemed older than Mama's somehow. “How could I?”

“How could you not? Because who's going to help you now?”

“God will help me, Angel. He's the only one who can, not me, not you.”

“So why didn't you ask God to help you kill Devon instead of you doing it yourself?”

Ava sniffled. My heart began to break again at the sound of her crying. Her desperation was too new for me.

“I didn't kill Devon.” She touched my hand. Her fingers were so soft and trembling. My pulse carried her fear into my heart. “I didn't kill him or Rachel.”

“It doesn't matter if the only person who knows that is you.” I turned away from her. “Are you ready to tell me what happened the night Devon died?”

She lowered her head and bowed. “I made a vow to my husband. Telling you would break it.”

I peeled her hand off mine. “Then you deserve what you get.”

Her lip quivered. “Do you really believe that?”

I looked back at her. Her stone exterior had softened considerably now. She quaked as she cried.

“Ava, I don't know what to believe. I don't even know who you are.”

“You do. You know you do.” She sobbed.

“I wanted to believe you didn't do it.”

“I didn't,” she screamed.

“Why didn't you go to my house when you were released, then? What were you doing in our old house instead?”

“I don't know.” It was hard to make out her words now. “I needed to see her.”

“I'm sorry, ladies.” The police officer standing beside us interrupted, then looked at Ava.

She looked at me and followed the officer's request. Tears streamed down both our faces. “Believe me. I didn't kill Devon or Rachel,” she said.

“Then answer my question. How did you get here?”

She sniffled. “Mrs. Loretta brought me to Rachel's.”

I nodded. “So she did know where Rachel lived.”

Ava nodded. She stopped crying, but the sniffling continued. “She helped me place her here.”

“She what? Where is she?”

“No!” she screamed. “Mrs. Loretta had nothing to do with this. She was gone long before you two got here.”

“I don't believe you.”

“You don't have to, but I will tell you the truth anyway.” Ava sighed. “I had been helping Rachel through her pregnancy. I had hoped . . . I didn't want her out in public in her state.”

“What state? Carrying Devon's baby?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Then why take care of her?”

“Because she was my armor bearer and her predicament was partly my fault.”

“Who's the father of the baby?”

She lowered her head. “I can't tell you.”

“Are you protecting him, too? Come on!” I shouted. “What about your children? Why aren't you protecting them?”

“I brought them to you and Whitney for protection.”

“So you knew something bad was going down the night you came over?”

She nodded. “I knew that Devon was in trouble, but he wouldn't come to me about it. I begged him to leave all this trouble behind and choose us over the church for once.”

“Wow.” I hadn't heard her sound like her old self in a really long time. “So why did you go back?”

“Because he's my husband. I didn't expect all this to happen, Angel.” She looked around. She began to cry again. “I didn't expect to lose my husband.” She whimpered. “And I didn't get to say good-bye to him.”

“But if you told me or Salvador any of this—”

“I couldn't. Besides, it wouldn't have mattered. I didn't think this would happen. Rachel's death. I thought the real killer would repent and confess. I prayed and believed it. I still do.”

“Did Rachel kill Devon?”

She shook her head. “I don't think so. I don't know.”

“Again, is the baby Devon's?”

“I don't know.” She sobbed. “I'm afraid to know.”

“Ava . . .” I paused. I didn't know what to say. “I have to find the truth now, even what you're too afraid to know about.”

“No!” she screamed. She looked at me and dropped her head.

I could tell she was exhausted.

“Yes . . .” she whispered. “Do whatever you have to do. Get me back to my children, Angel.”

“Everything will be fine. I'll come to see about you after I make sure Big Tiger is okay. “

“Please, don't leave me, Angel,” Ava cried.

I saw Salvador coming toward me. I knew it was against procedure, but if this was our last time alone together, I thought I would give it a shot. “Can I come along this time?”

Salvador nodded. “Of course. I just got off the phone with the DA's office. And according to her, you're the best witness I got. I need you to answer a few questions. Francine will talk to Mr. Jones at the emergency room. I'll have one of the guys park Mr. Jones's car in the detention center parking lot, as a courtesy to you. “

He looked at Ava. “Mrs. McArthur, unfortunately you are being charged with . . .”

Salvador read Ava her Miranda Rights again, while another officer escorted me to Salvador's car. I watched Ava roll away again, but I wasn't sure if I would see her again this time.

 

 

After Ava was booked and back in lockup, I told Salvador my account of what happened tonight, which wasn't much. I walked out of the jail with no clue where to go, what to do, or how to get it done. Big Tiger was still at Dekalb Medical having that bump on his head nursed, and Justus was waiting for me on the other side of those squad cars.

He stood in front of the revolving exit doors, leaving me no choice but to speak to him.

I didn't want to. I wanted to tell him off.

He walked toward me. My chest and lips tightened. I couldn't move. For the second time tonight, my body and my mind weren't aligned.

“I'm so sorry, Angel,” he said. “I had no clue Ava would be there.”

“So you wanted me to get arrested, then, or worse, killed?”

“I wanted you home in bed, taking care of your child like you promised.”

“My sister is facing double murder, triple murder charges maybe. She'll die in prison, and you knew where Rachel was all that time. How could you?” I shouted.

“I didn't know this would happen. I was trying to protect you.”

“How did you know where Rachel was?”

“I called Francine and gave her Rachel's name. I thought she could find her faster than us, and I thought that this Rachel person could be the suspect we needed to help Ava's case, just like you thought.”

“Francine? Detective Dixon? You told her? I should have known.” I shook my head and began to walk away.

He caught my hand. “You have no need to be jealous of her.”

“Jealous?” I scoffed. “You need to get over yourself. The last thing that I need in my life right now is to be caught up in a love triangle between a dumb detective and the sanctified superhero. I'm not jealous. I'm pissed off.”

His eyes widened. He frowned. “Insulting me won't make things better.”

“I disagree. I feel pretty good. Now let me go.”

“Are you going home?”

“No, I'm not.”

“Angel . ..”

“Angel, what?”

“Tell me you're going home.”

“I'm sorry, Pastor, but I have to help my sister.”

“Forget about your sister for a minute and think about someone else. Rachel is dead. Her baby is dead. You could have been dead. Had I not told the detectives about this, you would have been dead, too.”

Whap!
I slapped him. “This is your fault.”

He stumbled back. “Go ahead and blame me if that makes you feel better, but I protected you tonight.”

“You ruined me tonight.” I was glad it was raining, because I didn't want Justus to see my tears. I turned and ran into the storm.

 

 

Have you ever found illumination sitting on the back pew? Sure, you can slip out of service if you think the sermon is full of crap. Or ogle that fine usher standing beside your pew holding the church program, but you can't get your soul fed back there or any food, for that matter.

By the time you reach the Communion table, only a drop of grape juice and a few crumbs of pita bread remain for you to swallow. It's almost embarrassing to bend your head back and take of the Body when the body was now crumbs. The only good scraps you're sure to ingest sitting on the back pew are all the rotten business going down within fifteen miles of your church. Whispers, scandals, smells—every peccadillo—float to that back pew. Believe me. I've digested them all. It's what I do, and something told me I wasn't the only one who did that, too.

Big Tiger was too weak to drive home, so I dropped him back to his house, stitches and all, and hopped in my car. Justus had called me more times than I cared to count. I didn't want to see him or hear anything else he had to say. However, I needed to see Elvis.

I knew Elvis had heard the news about Ava by now. I needed to beg him to protect Ava and Devon's kids. For the first time in a long time, I needed Greater Atlanta Faith Church.

Elvis lived in a late Victorian bungalow off Candler Drive in historic Winnona Park district. It was a beautiful place: cute little houses with bright red doors, azaleas, and dogwoods dancing on the lawns and people who looked you in the eye with smiles as bright as the sun. When I went to college, I would pass through this district and dream. I prayed that God would give me a decent job and a sweet man so that I could live in Winnona Park. It was the closest thing to heaven to me back then.

As I pulled into Elvis's driveway, I thought I saw Justus and Bella bouncing down the steps coming toward me. I blinked. They disappeared. Suddenly, I felt overwhelmed. What was happening to me? Guilt, or worse, dread? Should I apologize to Justus again?

Elvis stood outside waiting for me. The storm had cleared and the world around me felt strangely calm. He came to my car door and opened it. He took my hand and helped me out of the car. I was so tired, and he felt so strong and steady. I let him hold me outside in the only other version of Eden I knew.

“I don't know what I'm going to do,” I told him.

“Come inside. I'll make you some breakfast. We'll figure it out.”

Elvis's home was immaculate. He had bookcases everywhere, modern furniture, very Ikea. There were pictures of his family, his sisters, and his parents. His father wore a priest's collar. I wondered if he were Anglican or Orthodox Christian, although neither answer would explain why Elvis worshipped at a nondenominational church.

I sat back and picked up a magazine on his coffee table. I opened the magazine and noticed something on the floor by the sofa. It was a handkerchief. I picked it up, then dropped it again. It was my handkerchief. The last time I'd seen it was at the crime scene, Rachel's crime scene. Oh no, he couldn't be. I scooped up the hankie, put it in my back jeans pocket, and hopped up.

“Elvis?” I scurried to the door.

By the time I reached the door, he was already out of the kitchen. “Yes? Where are you going?”

“I have to go. My family is calling and wondering where I am. I'm thinking they heard the bad news.”

He had a look of concern on his face. I couldn't tell whether he knew I now suspected him of killing Devon and framing my sister or what.

“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.

I was so scared. I didn't want to give myself away, but I needed to get out of there. “No, well, I don't know. This is all too much for me right now.”

He nodded. “You do look very out of sorts. Maybe I should take you home.”

“I can manage.” I reached for my purse and keys.

“No.” He snatched the hankie out of my pocket. “I don't think you're well enough to drive at all.”