Like Sheep Gone Astray (37 page)

Thanks for the heads-up, Councilman Banks.” They shook hands again.

“I have to run over to my office to pass along some information to my secretary. I'm still trying to get to the bottom of who's trying to set me up to look like I'm against you. I'm working on a lead from a young man from my church who's been caught up in this confusion. You may have heard of him, Anthony Murdock?”

“I know who he is. He was recommended to CASH as an excellent contact for PR and marketing. At first he seemed enthusiastic about the project, but then all of sudden he seemed to catch the same germ that's been making so many council members turn sick against us. That was several months ago.”

“Don't hold it against him, Eric. Anthony's a fine man who is trying to do the right thing. At this point, I think we're all trying to hold on to this roller coaster for dear life.”

“Yeah, I guess. I'm just hoping that this ride ends soon. And that it's a happy ending.”

“It will be. We've got to believe that it will be.”

As they parted, Eric knew Walter was being optimistic for his sake. He had not missed the strain on Walter's face, the new gray hairs that had sprouted on his head. The last few months had taken their toll on him too.

Please help him, Jesus.
Eric prayed silently to himself.
Please help us all.

A few moments later he headed for a lobby area where many of the legislators mingled with constituents. He noticed a small group of people standing in a corner. At center stood a well-dressed man with sparkling diamond cuff links and a fine Italian suit. Though his back was to him, Eric recognized the easy laugh and finely oiled bass voice immediately. It was Reginald Savant, the multimillionaire real-estate investor and the visionary behind the Empress Hotel.

A couple of other well-groomed and trimmed faces Eric did not recognize were standing beside him shaking hands with the small group of council members. As Eric drew near, Frank Patterson, a councilman who never returned his calls, abruptly stopped talking and threw his mouth into a cup of boiling hot coffee. Reggie turned to see what the distraction was.

“Mr. Johnson”—Reggie's singsong voice never skipped a beat—”it's good to see you. How are you today?”

“I'm blessed.” Eric spoke, but his eyes were not on Reggie. They were on the startled pecan-skinned blond standing beside him. Nikki gaped as Eric brushed past all of them, picked up a doughnut at a refreshment table, and headed back toward the hallway. He needed a moment alone to collect his thoughts.

“Eric!” Nikki ran out after him. “I was going to call you to let you know where I was.” She was out of breath.

“Not right now, Nikki.” He kept walking.

“Please, listen. I'm trying to help you. Remember what I told you on Saturday? About Reginald Savant? I figured if I got on the inside of his circle, I could get information that would help you out.”

“You got on the inside pretty fast, didn't you?”

Nikki paused for a second, standing still as Eric continued walking. She quickly caught back up with him.

“Look, I had been suspecting something was up for a while. That's why I came to work for you. Remember, I used to work in Councilman Banks's office so I know how hard you've been trying to make Bethany Village happen. After that last vote went wrong for you, I figured I could better help the cause by joining the front lines and working for CASH directly.”

“Nikki.” Eric did not realize how loud he was talking. “I hired you while we were sitting at a bus stop and you were weeping and crying about being laid off. What are you talking about?”

“Huh? Oh. I—uh.” Suddenly she broke out in tears. “Eric, everything's going all wrong. I need you to believe me. I'm trying to help you.” Two long sobs followed her words. Eric grabbed both her arms,

“Tell me, Nikki, who are you really working for? Me or Reginald Savant?”

“Eric”—she blinked up at him—”I need you to trust me. I admit I haven't been completely honest with you, but I had my reasons. I promise you, I am on your side. I want you to win.”

Gloria was glad when the window finally slid back open. The woman on the other side looked friendly enough, although she had made Gloria and the few other people standing in front of her in line wait for over half an hour as she took a mid-morning break. Gloria was in the Shepherd Hills Courthouse, the Office of Public Records and Recording, doing her best to get information about the old address of the former local steelworkers' union. It had been an unsuccessful phone trail thus far that morning, and she was anxious to pull up something that would help Councilman Banks and Minister Murdock out of their troubled circumstances. If they were being set up, there had to be a way to find out who was behind it all. Another fifteen minutes went by before she was finally able to reach the window.

“Good morning.” Gloria tried to sound cheery, knowing how it felt to be on the receiving end of a rude greeting.

“How may I help you?”

“I need to get all the public records you have on the Steelworkers' Guild Number Twenty-nine and Toringhouse Steel.”

“Whew! I hope you brought a wheelbarrow with you, miss. That's like asking the plastic surgeon for the medical records of Michael Jackson.” The woman had a scraping laugh.

“Well, I really just need to find out where the steelworkers' union was located ten years ago.” Gloria smiled, thinking how the woman reminded her of her older sister. They both had a way of finding humor in anything. It kept the day from getting too dry.

“Okay, that helps narrow the field. I'll pull only the folders from 1993, and you can get whatever you need from that.”

When the woman resurfaced ten minutes later, Gloria could not help but wonder if there was a way to narrow down the search even more. Three charts, each four inches thick, were plopped onto the counter in front of her.

“I hope this helps, honey.” The woman smiled as Gloria carried the folders to a nearby desk.

“Jesus, You got to show me how to do this.” Even as she prayed, she was hit with an idea that made her want to smack herself in the head. “All I need to do is find a piece of their letterhead in here and get their address off of that. Should be easy enough.” She smiled at her own ingenuity and threw back the heavy pages, stopping randomly at one.

9705 Perkins Street, Suite 600, Shepherd Hills, MD 29473.
She wrote the address down and reclosed the file.

“You can leave those right there. I know that pile is heavy. I'll get it on my lunch break,” the woman at the window shouted down to Gloria, who had just stood and braced herself to return the load. Gloria eagerly complied with the woman's directive, pushing the papers to the side and straightening them in a stack. As she patted down the thick pages, her eyes caught the corner of a sheet sticking out.

“Oh, this looks like the contract of sale for their old office suite.” She started to push the paper back in when she suddenly froze, nearly tearing it out of the bound chart.

“Excuse me.” She nearly knocked over the next person waiting at the window. “I'm sorry, but I need to see any public records, if any, that you have on the Black Entrepreneurs Alliance.”

“Just a moment.” The woman smiled, although the waiting patron gave Gloria a nasty look. A little while later, Gloria flipped through the single thin folder the woman placed in front of her.

“There was more, but someone checked it out first thing this morning. I'm glad you asked for it or I may have never noticed that it wasn't returned.”

“Do you write down who checks out documents?”

“Yes, um, let's see.” The woman skimmed over a notepad. “Yes, it was…Benjamin Franklin?” She looked back up at Gloria, embarrassment clouding her hazel eyes. “I'm sorry, I guess I wasn't paying much attention. I need to go fill out an incident report for the missing records.”

As she turned away, Gloria searched for Anthony's cell-phone number in her purse. When she couldn't find it, she dialed Councilman Banks instead.

“Mr. Banks, I hope you can talk.”

“Gloria, I'm glad you called. There's something I want you to look up for me.”

“Anthony already told me, and I've already done it and I've got news.”

“You're amazing, Gloria.” Walter chuckled. “You are by far the most dependable employee I've ever had. What have you found? Wait, let me see if I can get Anthony's cell on three-way so he can hear too.” There was a pause and then a phone ringing. Anthony answered hello through sharp static.

“Minister Murdock, can you talk?”

“Walter, hi. I'm just rounding an exit. Give me a second.”

After a brief moment, all three greeted each other.

“Anthony, where have you been? I've been trying to call you on your cell phone since yesterday.” Walter did not hide the concern in his voice.

“I'm sorry. I was out of range. I'm just coming back from South Carolina trying to dig up info about my father.”

“Did you learn anything?” Walter sounded hopeful.

“Well, let me put it to you this way: I hope you and Gloria have had better success on your end.”

“Anthony, Gloria thinks she's found something.” Walter's hope turned into outright excitement. Both men turned silent so Gloria could speak.

“Listen, I'm up here at the Office of Public Records, and you won't believe what I just found out. I hope this helps you and Mr. Banks somehow.”

“What is it?” Anthony felt his heart pick up a few paces.“I have the old address to the steelworkers' union. It looks like it's in the same building CASH is in on Perkins Street, up on the sixth floor. But look, I also found out who bought the space from them ten years ago.”

“Oh? Who?” Anthony and Walter asked at the same time.

“Remember the name of the business owner on those Stonymill documents I got that didn't have any clear-cut information?”

“Wait a minute.” Anthony strained his brain trying to get a mental picture of the papers he and Gloria had pored over Friday afternoon. “I remember the brothers who owned the tax service, Reggie Savant and the Empress Hotel, the jewelry store. Who am I forgetting?”

“There were a couple of others, but the one I'm talking about was called Pride and Fidelity.”

“That's right. Isn't that the company we couldn't find a name for, or any other information?” Anthony had to speak louder over the static.

“Exactly. We only found the name Razi once somewhere on the documents. That was the only reference of a name on all the Stonymill stuff I got from city hall on Friday.”

“So this Razi character who is associated with Pride and Fidelity and the BEA owns the old offices of the steel-workers' union.” Walter was in attack mode. “We need to find out who he or she is and what role they are playing in all this.”

“Well, check this out. I tried to get current public records of the Black Entrepreneurs Alliance to see if they disclosed any information about this person and their business, but the records I needed were missing. Someone checked them out first thing this morning under the name of Benjamin Franklin. The only records available have absolutely no mention of either Razi or Pride and Fidelity.”

“This is crazy. Someone must be onto our personal investigation.” The static on Anthony's phone made him barely audible.

“Gloria, you haven't noticed anyone following you?” Walter sounded anxious again.

“No, well, I haven't been looking.” For the first time in the conversation, Gloria's excitement diminished.

“My phone's breaking up. I'm going to have to talk to you when I get back in town, probably after Minister Porter's funeral,” Anthony interjected.

“And I'm due back in session in a few seconds,” Walter said close behind.

“I'm going to go over to the office on Perkins Street to see if I can find anything.”

“Gloria, I don't think you should go by yourself. Why don't you wait until my session is over and we can go together?” Walter pleaded.

“I agree with Walter. Don't go. Wait until I—” Contact with Anthony was lost.

“I'm going, Walter. I feel like I need to do it. If someone's onto us, we need to act right now. If it makes you feel any better, I do keep a bottle of pepper spray on my key chain.”

“Gloria, I have to go, but I beg you not to go alone to that building. I know that Eric from CASH is down at city hall, and I'm not sure where or if there are any other active offices in that old warehouse. I hate the idea of you being alone in there. Please, wait until I or Anthony—or both of us—can go with you. I'd go now, but I really can't miss this session. You've helped so much, and this really is not your battle to fight.”

Gloria sighed heavily into the receiver. “I guess you're right. Maybe it would be unwise for me to go.”

“Of course. Promise me you won't go.”

“Okay, Walter. I promise that I'll wait for either you or Anthony to check it out.”

“Thanks, Gloria. I'll be finished here by four. We can meet at my office and go together, or we can meet Anthony after the funeral so he can go with us too.”

“Okay.” Gloria sighed. “I'll just go over to the library and see if I can get any research on all this done there. How's that?”

“Perfect, and I'll give you a call as soon as I'm out of session so we can make the next move together, preferably with Anthony.”

They hung up after talking briefly about some unrelated office business. Gloria checked the time. It was already almost noon, a perfect time to take her lunch break. If she wanted to run errands on her
own
time, that was her prerogative. The first errand on her list was to catch the bus to the office of Pride and Fidelity on Perkins Street.

Terri sat back in her leather desk chair. She had come to her office after leaving Dr. Levinson's. For the past few hours she had done nothing but stare at her phone. Her door was closed, the blinds on the large windows drawn. If she had not given a message to the main receptionist to be left undisturbed, nobody in the office would have known she was there.

“I wish I knew who to talk to,” she said to herself, consulting her feelings and emotions for guidance. Anthony. Baby. Reggie. Work. Entrepreneurship. The issues presented themselves not as questions but as statements, facts of her reality. She closed her eyes, thinking to pray, and opened them, uncertain how to.