Dominion (116 page)

“So you went to Gangster Cool,” Ollie said, chilled by how controlled and at ease Esther appeared to be. “I read three members of your husband’s staff attended the gang conference with him. I checked the records and found out you were one of them. Is that where you met Gangster Cool?”

“Yes. Raymond—that’s how I knew him—he’d done some campaign-related work for us. He’d done a good job. So I asked him to meet with the boys Matthew was sending so he could give them the address and directions to…the girl’s house.

“The next morning when I saw the paper, I was shocked. When I read the headlines about Dani Rawls, I kept looking to see if there were any other shootings. Then I realized it was all a terrible mistake.” A single tear dropped from her left eye, and she caught it gracefully with a tissue.

“Once you found out they’d killed the wrong person, what did you do?”

“I contacted Raymond and told him he needed to do whatever it took to take care of that girl. The next weekend I read she’d died of this heart condition. I hoped that’s all it really was. The hardest part was having to go to the funeral with Reggie and Katie. I didn’t want any of us to be there. But the important thing was, she was gone.”

Ollie stared at this woman, sitting there in all her elegance talking about murdering her daughter’s best friend.

“I’m sorry, detective. I never wanted to hurt anybody but that black girl and her bastard baby. I opened my home to her, gave her some of my clothes and a beautiful gold angel pin. How
dare
she spite me like that? How dare she seduce my husband and try to ruin everything we’ve worked so hard for? She had the nerve to make him this miserable tie that said ‘Love, Leesa.’ And he had the gall to wear it in public! When I saw it at the Fight Crime rally, I was so angry I almost ripped it off his neck. I told him I never wanted to see that tie again. I saw a picture in his office of him with that tie. I got rid of it on the spot.”

“What made you think Harper would cooperate with you?” Ollie asked.

“Matthew’s a dependable man. He’s helped a lot of people. He cares about his career. I knew he wouldn’t take the risk of his reputation being ruined. Besides, I made it easier for him. I told him the woman was a hooker—that she entrapped Reg and was trying to blackmail him.”

“You said that about Leesa?”

“It sounded…better. And it was kind of true. Not the blackmail part. Maybe she wasn’t a hooker, but she had a hold on him. And she was ruining our lives. I had to stop her. You understand that, don’t you? I’m sorry other people got hurt, but I
had
to stop her. Reggie does too much good for too many people to let one person ruin him like that.”

“You came up with all this on your own?” Ollie asked. “Didn’t work with anyone but Harper and Gangster Cool?”

“Well, of course I couldn’t have done it without Sartol.”

“Sartol? Who’s Sartol?”

“He’s the one who came up with the idea. I was so confused. I needed guidance. He gave it to me.”

“Mrs. Norcoast, who is Sartol?”

“Why, he’s my angel.”

Ollie stared at her.

“I asked for his help with this whole dreadful problem. Then Matthew Harper popped into my mind. I knew he was the solution. And then Sartol reminded me of Raymond and helped me work out all the details. It was a perfect plan—I never could have done it on my own. Sartol’s my guide I ask my angel about lots of things. He’s never failed me yet.”

“How are you, Daddy?” Clarence asked his father, who looked small and frail in the hospital bed.

“If I was a hoss, they’d a shot me already.” Obadiah chuckled feebly. “But I’s
not
a hoss—so don’t go and shoot me, all right? Older than dirt, but I’s still a man.”

“You’re the best man I’ve ever known,” Clarence said.

“You should get around mo’, Son. Meet mo’ people.”

“I mean it, Daddy. You were always a hard one to disobey, but you’ve been everything I could ask for in a father. If I could be to my children what you’ve been to me…”

“Give ’em your time, Son. No substitute for your time. Learn those younguns God’s ways. Teach ’em who they is—chillens of the King. Some man treats ’em like a dog, that’s his problem. He gonna have to face their Daddy the King. Chillens grows up real quick, Son. I knows. Don’t miss the chances you got now. Won’t get ’em again.”

Clarence nodded. “I called Uncle Elijah. He’s concerned about you. Wanted me to tell you he was prayin’ for you.”

“He’s a good brother, ’Lijah. Best friend a man could ever have. Went through the hard days together. Kept each other warm those cold nights. Had us some fine times, we did. A true brother. I wish you and Harley could—”

“I know.” Clarence choked. “I’m sorry we never got to Cooperstown.”

“It ain’t too late.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I wants you to take Jonah and Ty and Geneva and the girls too, if they wants to go. And ask Harley too. You can do it. They gots some old Negro League pictures, you know. Look for me. Twenty-two years in Shadow Ball, your old daddy’s gots to be in some of them pictures.”

“But it’s you I wanted to go with, Daddy.”

“Don’t worry none about me, Son. I’s goin’ to the
real
Hall of Fame.” He laughed and looked at Clarence with those soulful eyes, the light inside flickering with the winds of eternity. “Remember, Son, God sees around the corners, even if you can’t.”

Clarence noticed someone at the doorway.

“Manny? Come in.”

“Mr. Manny? My detective friend?” The old man reached up his hand. Manny walked in and took it. “Tell you what, Son,” Obadiah said. “Let me talk to Mr. Manny awhile. Got some things I wants to tell him, ’portant things every man should know. You go get you some coffee or something. Maybe some fresh air.”

Clarence nodded, walking out of the room, knowing what his father meant by important things.

When Clarence returned to the room forty-five minutes later, Obadiah had fallen asleep, and Manny was standing there holding his hand. Manny turned away a moment, then walked past Clarence, nodding respectfully but saying nothing.

Clarence hovered over his father, wanting to protect him, unaware that someone much bigger and stronger than he stood beside the bed, sword outstretched toward heaven, prepared to give everything in defense of this one old man, from whom he had learned much and to whom he had become loyal beyond measure.

Clarence called Ollie from the hospital to update him on his father.

“You won’t believe this,” Ollie said. “Norcoast is in the hospital. He attempted suicide.”

“What?”

“His wife’s confession devastated him,” Ollie said. “He knows he’s ruined politically, of course, and he’s never done anything else but be a politician. The papers, TV, radio, they’re all over it. He loves his wife and feels guilt over his affair with Leesa. I’ve heard his daughter won’t speak to him for what he did to her mother and her best friend. Plus, he feels like he betrayed everybody. I found out it was Gray who asked Raylon Berkley to stuff the story on Leesa, didn’t give him the real reason for asking of course, but now Berkley’s embarrassed and keeping his distance from his old friend Norcoast. I guess it was all too much to handle—Norcoast lost his image, his job, his family, and his friends, so he took a bottle of pills. He’s not out of the woods yet. He may still die.”

“What hospital, Ollie?”

“Right where you’re calling from—Emanuel.”

Clarence went to the front desk to get Norcoast’s room number. He’d just been moved off critical condition and out of ICU but was still under close monitoring. Clarence went to his room on the fourth floor and stood over him. The councilman was drained of color, pale and pasty. Unconscious, he lay very still. Clarence stood over him for ten minutes before Norcoast started to move. He shuddered and trembled. He started mumbling, appearing to be seeing things and hearing voices.

“O God, they’re trying to get me.” Clarence backed away from the tortured voice. “Monsters, demons attacking me.” His arms flailed. “It’s so hot. Hurts so bad. No. Stay away. Don’t hurt me.” After a few minutes of incoherence, he calmed down a little, then spoke again, eyes closed. “Gone now. Where is everybody? I’m so alone. I’m burning up! Help me!” He screamed out, writhing, soaking himself in sweat, casting the sheets to his side and bumping against the bedrails. Two nurses ran into the room.

Clarence backed out of the room, shaken. He went directly to the hospital chapel and prayed fervently for his father, but even more fervently for Reggie Norcoast.

The next morning Clarence came early to the hospital, first visiting his father, who was unconscious. Then he went up two floors to visit Norcoast. The door was closed. A nurse told him the councilman had had terrible hallucinations all night, but he was now awake and out of trouble.

Clarence peeked in the door. Norcoast, usually vibrant and healthy, looked pale and peaked, like a man who’d been through a wringer. Clarence knocked lightly on the doorframe.

“Hello, Reg, can I come in?”

“Clarence?” Norcoast looked down. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Esther and Gray and everything.” He lay there looking dejected and pathetic. Clarence pitied him.

“Reg, I need to talk to you about some things. I know I’ve never talked with you about my faith before, but I feel it’s—”

“Clarence, something wonderful happened last night.” Norcoast suddenly sounded euphoric. “I was just about to die—in fact I think I may have died, really. I was walking down this shining corridor and there was this magnificent angel of light. It was so beautiful. The angel assured me there’s a special place in heaven for me. He said I just needed to get in touch with myself, live a good life, and do the best I could to love others. It was so real. I was on the verge of heaven, and I didn’t want to come back. But I realize I was
sent
back for a reason. To tell people about God’s love and acceptance.”

Clarence looked at him, slack-jawed. “Reg, I was
here
last night. I heard you crying out to God and screaming and talking about demons attacking you. You felt like you were on fire, then you talked about being all alone. You weren’t on the verge of heaven. You were on the verge of hell!”