No Sin in Paradise (16 page)

I track down Trevor Morgan to his ex-wife Cecile. The couple divorced shortly after Trevor was declared insane. Cecile retained her married name which says something about the affection she still has for her husband. It's actually a heartbreaking tale. Based on the information I gathered from the articles and medical records, the move is a result of Cecile not being able to pay for Trevor's medical bills. When Trevor lost his job, he also lost his family, and if there is some way I can help right this wrong, then that's what I will do.

Cecile lives in Dade County, a more urban-populated area of Miami. Christmas is in a few days, so most houses have their Christmas decorations put up. I also see that there are police cars parked in the driveway. Miami likes to maintain a strong police presence in its neighborhoods. Cecile's neighborhood has a lot of grass areas instead of sidewalks, so I park along the side of her house.

As I walk up to her doorstep I realize that it's amazing that she still maintains her home in the aftermath of her husband's demise. I ring the doorbell and moments later, Cecile opens the door. I can tell that she used to be more attractive but the years and stress of Trevor's plight has taken its toll on her.

“Can I help you?” Cecile asks.

“Hello, Mrs. Morgan. My name is Minister Nicodemus Dungy, and I'm here to talk to you about your husband.”

Cecile tries to close the door. “I haven't seen or heard from Trevor in years.”

I put my foot in the doorway. This is an aggressive move, but I need Mrs. Morgan to let me in and not shut me out. “Please, Mrs. Morgan, I know your family has been through a horrific ordeal, but I'm here to help.”

“No one comes here to help. They just come to pry into my personal life with Trevor. I'm tired, and I just want to be left alone. Good day.” She tries to close the door again.

“I know he's innocent,” I say.

Cecile stops trying to close the door on me. She just stands with the door open and looks me in the eyes. I guess she's searching to see if my intentions are true.

“You can come in for a minute.” She opens the door for me to enter.

I follow Cecile into the house and have a seat on the couch. She takes a seat on the love seat diagonal from me.

“There have been lawyers, activists, and others who have come by saying they can help. Then after awhile, they stop returning my phone calls and e-mails. Randall Knott's money and influence runs long, so forgive me for saying, but I don't think a minister can do anything different.”

“I know all you've gotten over the years is a lot of broken promises, but I believe that I can expose Knott for the monster that he is, but I'll need your husband's help in doing so.”

“Like I've said, I haven't seen Trevor in years. After he was publically scorned, he couldn't handle his family being ridiculed on account of him trying to do the right thing.”

Cecile buries her face in her hands. I quickly scan the room for clues. The outside world may have labeled Trevor a crazy man who fabricated false information about a wealthy businessman, but in this home, Trevor's legacy as a father and a husband is still intact. His wedding photos and picture with his daughter, Peyton, decorated the walls and counters.

“My husband may be many things, but he's not a liar. If he said that Randall Knott embezzled money, then Randall Knott embezzled money. They destroyed my family to cover up a liar. What do I tell our daughter? Huh? What do I tell her about her father?”

“Was there anything about your husband that was different?”

“You know the war really did a number on my husband, but he wasn't crazy. I believe everything he said Randall Knott was up to was true.”

The look on Cecile's face is not of a woman that is glad to be divorced and away from her crazy husband. Her look is of a woman who wishes her family could be made whole.

“Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, my doll is missing.” Peyton, Trevor and Cecile's daughter, comes running in.

Peyton hops on her mother's lap. She has a birthday in April where she will turn five years old. A little girl shouldn't be without her father at such a young age. Peyton looks at me and doesn't say anything. She just waves at me. I wave back at her. This simple gesture feels both awkward and distant.

“I'll be right back.” Cecile takes Peyton off her lap and gets up. She follows Peyton to her room.

“Lord, forgive me.” As soon as Cecile is out of sight, I start looking for clues.

I can't go into any of the rooms, so I have to find something in the living room that will help me find the location of Trevor. I come across a stack of bills and decide to rifle through them quickly. They have not all been already opened, which means that this is today's mail. There is a storage bill and in it, it showed a paid balance. I also notice that it is a large storage unit. A single mother with one child wouldn't need a big storage unit, and that may just be the clue that I need. I put the mail back and head toward the door right before Cecile returns. I may have found Trevor and the leverage I need to bring Knott down.

 

 

From Mrs. Morgan's house, I drive over to Dade County Public Storage. I saw the storage number on the bill, and I plan to take a peek into that storage unit. I'm not sure what I'll find, but I have to follow all leads, even if the leads are a dead end.

I pull up to the two-story Dade County Public Storage building. The main office is closed and only the security lights are on. I pull into the visitor parking spot and turn off the car. I know what storage number I need to go to, but I don't have a clue how to get into the building. I step out of the car and walk up to the security gate. I could try to climb it, but being in a suit with dress shoes might make my attempts embarrassing, to say the least.

A flashlight starts to move, and my entrance to the building may be arriving soon.

“We're closed,” a security guard says.

The guard's skin is almost as bright as his flashlight. In fact, I don't even think he needs a flashlight to carry around.

“I know, but it's really important. I left my key in my storage unit.”

“You're going to have to come back tomorrow,” the guard says.

“Listen, buddy, it can't wait.” I motion for the officer to look down. He spots a Ben Franklin in my hands.

“You need to be quick,” the guard says.

“I will and thank you.”

It's wrong to bribe, but I feel like the bigger crime is how many hardworking people in this country are grossly underpaid. I enter the building and press the code I found on the bill. The elevator opens. I enter and press the second floor. In truth, I've seen maybe one too many scary movies. I start to get a real eerie feeling being in a storage building with only myself and a security guard on site. I could be murdered, and no one would hear me scream since the security officer is patrolling outside.

I get off at the second floor. There's a lot of darkness between the two security lights that occupy each floor. I follow the aisle that's closer to storage 297. As I get closer to the storage unit number, I see that the light is on. I walk to the outside of the unit and take a look inside. This storage unit is a miniapartment. There is a chair and small desk with plenty of newspaper clippings and books. A cup of coffee sits next to the desk with steam rising . . . Which means that someone is here and left. Perhaps the sound from my shoes scared off the occupant, but I believe I have found Trevor Martin.

Suddenly, I feel an arm slip around my throat and squeeze. I try to fight my assailant off, but my attempts are futile. Soon I'll lose consciousness. I stump on my assailant's foot with my feet, and I throw an elbow to the midsection.

“Trevor Martin?” I struggle to say.

“Who are you? How did you find me?”

“I'm here to help. I know the truth about Randall Knott. I know what he did, and I want to bring him down.”

It took everything within me explain myself, but my assailant finally loosened his grip, and I was able to breathe again. It took a moment to clear my throat, but when I turned around, there is Trevor Martin standing in front of me. In his pictures, Trevor doesn't have a beard, but he has since grown one. His hair is longer, and there is an odor about him. At the same time, I can tell that he tries to cover up his lack of being able to take a shower with cologne and deodorant.

“You're crazy if you think you can take down Knott,” Trevor says.

There's the pot calling the kettle black. Trevor is practically living like the Unabomber and not even the glimmer of hope for redemption can move him.

“Knott tried to have me killed, and he destroyed your career and your family. I don't know about you, but I'm not about to let that slide.”

Trevor starts to laugh. He must think I'm crazy; again, the feeling is mutual.

“You're dreaming; you can't take down Knott. He has too many angles.”

“No man walking this earth is untouchable. He won't see me coming, but I need your help.”

“Forget about it. I lost everything chasing after him. The only reason why I'm alive right now is because I knew how to take a whipping and walk away. I walked away from my family, and that was the best thing to do.”

“I met your wife and your daughter. I know she still loves you, and if there is any chance of you being reunited as a family, you'll need my help.”

“You can't bring down someone like Knott and be able to live peacefully.”

“I can provide you with protection.”

“Boy, you really are flying in the dark now, aren't you? If you knew the truth about Knott, you would rent a storage unit right next to mine,” he says.

I have to be willing to see this thing to its conclusion. Trevor has amassed a lot of information, and there's no doubt that there are a lot more people who stand to lose if the truth about Knott is let out.

Trevor starts to point at the different news clippings and different color strings that shows the connection. It's fascinating, and it tells a dark narrative of one of the wealthiest men on the planet, but I need for Trevor to make sense of his findings.

“Political corruption from the last three elections; why do you think the same party gets reelected? Why do you think there's such a low turnout of the minority vote in Dade County? Knott makes sure that we can't vote, and that the only people who go into office are those who serve Knott's best interests,” Trevor says.

“But Obama won the last two elections,” I reply.

Trevor chuckles and gives me a dismissive wave. I hope he's not about to go on an Illuminati rant.

“It don't matter who sits in the White House. Knott cares about who runs the state, and that's where he focuses his influence.”

Trevor walks over to other news clippings that, at a glance, seem unrelated. They are clippings of murders that are suspected mob hits and clippings from articles about megachurches.

“Mob money, church money—he scams them all into thinking that they are investing with Randall Knott. In truth, Knott is a master of building with other people's money. He cheats them out of their investments.”

“How?” I ask.

“I was cooking his books. He fabricates false figures and gets people to invest more money than is necessary. He likes to use the mob and churches and community outreach programs, because they'll never do the due diligence necessary to find out about their investments.”

Trevor shakes his head, and the picture that he's trying to paint is starting to come into view.

“You discovered this, and he fired you?” I ask.

“I discovered that this man has offshore accounts, dummy corporations, insider trading. He's just never been caught.”

“Well, that's about to change. Listen, Trevor, you don't deserve to spend the rest of your life hiding. Let me use the information you gathered to expose Knott, and I'll give you protection.”

Trevor starts to shake his head as he walks around his small space and looks at his life's work. “I want you to guarantee that you will find protection for me.”

I hate making promises, especially when there are so many moving pieces, but what kind of man would I be if I didn't take the leap of faith. “I promise.”

Trevor hesitates before he goes into his filing cabinet and pulls out a file that is at least two inches thick. He hands me the file.

“Let's see what you can do. I can't give you everything yet, but that's at least enough to get the ball rolling with Witness Protection.”

I open the file and thumb through it. Extortion, racketeering, bribery—you name it. I have Randall Knott cold, and that's only a sample of what Trevor has on Knott. “Is this your only copy?”

“Of course not, there are others, but I won't tell you where.”

Fair enough. Trevor gave me what I need, and now all I need to do is provide him with protection, and I know who to contact for that.

I flew back to California on a red-eye flight from Miami. I can't even begin to describe the level of exhaustion that I feel right now, but before I can rest I have to finish what I started with Knott. I pick my car up from the long-term parking lot and head straight to my destination.

I don't have time to call anyone up, not even my two closest friends, Garland and Paul. I don't even have time to stop by my place in Carson and check the mail. I have a very short window of opportunity to bring Knott down, and I can't miss it. Knott doesn't make a lot of mistakes, and if I don't catch him now, then I won't get another opportunity.

Driving along the 405, I have to admit that I miss home. I miss the island too, but since I almost didn't make it back from the island, I prefer the congestion of a big city to the beauty of a small island. At least that's the way I feel now.

 

 

It's four a.m., and I am heading to Johnny's Donuts in Gardena. This is a spot where I'm a silent partner. I went to high school with Johnny, and we maintained contact since our high school graduation. A few years back, Johnny found himself in trouble with his business and needed some cash. Since I didn't want to see a longtime friend lose his dream, I decided to help him out. In return, I get unlimited bear claws and privileges to use his office to conduct meetings that I don't want people to know about.

I pull into the parking spot, and all I see is Johnny's van parked outside. That means the person whom I'm supposed to meet hasn't arrived yet. I get out of the car and go inside. Johnny sees me and grabs a bear claw and hands it to me.

“Thank you, sir,” I say.

“No problem, Nic.”

John turns around and grabs a Styrofoam cup and pours. He knows just how I like my coffee: French Vanilla cream and two sugars.

“The Lakers lost last night,” he says.

“I heard. That's starting to become a regular occurrence.”

“Yeah, they need trades and a new coach.” He hands me the coffee.

“Gracias. I'm going to go in the back, and when my friend arrives, just tell her to meet me in the back,” I say.

“I got you.”

I walk into Johnny's office and remove the stack of newspapers in his chair which I place on his desk. I'm glad the actual donut shop is not a reflection of Johnny's office. Just when I'm getting comfortable eating my donut and drinking my coffee, in walks Special Agent Kim West with a Muslim shawl wrapped around her head. Kim can't be any taller than five feet two, with a mocha complexion and almond-shaped eyes.

“You picked a great time to cash in on your favor. I'm risking having my cover blown for you,” she says. Kim gives me a stern look. I did take an inopportune time to cash in on a favor, but it's necessary.

“I know, but this couldn't wait.”

“Is it a matter of national security?” she asks.

“Not exactly.”

“Well, then, it could wait. The only reason why I'm here is because I'm a woman of my word and the text message suggests that you're in trouble,” Kim says.

“I wasn't aware that I was,” I say.

Kim rolls her eyes. We have very few things in common—but one of those things is hating when people insult our intelligence.

“You sent a text in all lower case. You
never
send texts in lower case unless you are in a rush, which suggests anxiety. You also misspelled the word
urgent
which you never do. In fact, you never use the word
urgent
in your texts. You spelled
need
with an extra
‘e,'
and you sent me two follow-up texts within twenty minutes of each other. Don't play with me.” Kim bats her eyes at me.

I don't know what division Kim works for in the FBI, but given her sharp analytical abilities, I think it's safe to say that she's a criminal profiler. At the same time, she's undercover, and I can't tell what she does, but I know one thing: I hate being beholden to anyone.

“Funny, I don't recall me saying it could wait or giving you a hard time when you needed me to get your brother into seminary,” I say.

For all of my skills in the dark arts of being a fixer, I do have one skill that stands on the right side of the light. I have tremendous pull with faculties throughout the country. Kim's brother wanted to attend Full Gospel Seminary, a prominent school located out in Dallas, and I got him in. Of course, for the last three years, Kim has owed me a favor that I never cashed in on until today. It's not every day a federal agent is in debt to me, so I know that I can't waste a favor on something frivolous.

“Seriously? You're going to threaten a woman with a glock pistol strapped to her? Do you know I can make one phone call to my buddies in the NSA and have you put on a no-fly list? Don't play with me, Nic. Now what do you need?”

Brilliant, sexy, and feisty, Kim is the ideal woman for me if it weren't for her profession and the fact that she does keep her gun on her at all times. I'm also afraid she would dig up stuff about my past I would rather keep hidden.

“I have a family that I will need witness protection for, and I need you to get ahold of your contacts at the marshals' office.”

“Hold up.” Kim puts her hands up. “I'm going to stop you right there. I owe you a favor, not the U.S. Marshal. The marshals are not at your disposal, and I'm not just going to contact the marshals' office. I need a reason.”

“I'm about to hand Randall Knott's head on a silver platter to your people, but before I do that, I need WITSEC in place for this family.”

“Randall Knott . . . the billionaire?” Kim asks.

I give her a head nod, and we both know a billionaire has the resources to make someone disappear instantly. Even government protection is no guarantee of safety, but I have to provide Trevor and his family with some kind of protection.

The look on Kim's face suggests that I gave her a good enough reason. She bats her eyes at me, then extends her hand as a gesture for me to show her what I have on Knott. I hand her the file Trevor gave me. Kim starts to scan the file, and her eyes widen at the sight of the information contained within the file.

“How credible is your source?” Kim asks.

“He's been discredited,” I say.

“You sure it's legitimate?”

“It is.”

“If you're wrong about Knott he's going to set fire to everything and everyone you touch.”

“Must you be so cynical?” I ask.

“I only take Christ for His word. The list ends there,” she says.

“It's a legit source,” I say.

“You sure
you
won't need WITSEC?” Kim asks.

“I can take care of myself, but my friend needs a clean slate for his wife, his daughter, and himself.”

Kim scans over the documents again before she closes the file and hands it back to me. “No promises. I'll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

“This is a pretty big favor, so
you're
going to owe
me
.”

“I got you. If you ever need to get away somewhere and relax, I know a place in the Bahamas, and I know a lady with a beautiful spot to rent.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Kim folds her arms. I guess she's not sure what to do next. “Listen, Nic, I have to be back before sunrise.”

“What are you up to?” I ask.

“None of your business. I mean, stay in your lane. You do you, and I'm going to do me.”

Kim heads out the door, but stops to look back at me. “Be careful, Nic.”

“You too.”

We both told each other to be careful, but the truth is, both Kim and I have a knack for running into danger instead of running from it.

***

A Gulfstream 650 jet is like having a portable condominium. Randall Knott decorated the interior of the plane in an egg-shell white. I was enjoying a drink and watching CNN when Randall Knott walks on board.

“I wasn't aware that I had an extra passenger,” Knott says.

“So where are you headed, Knott? Dubai? Hong Kong, or somewhere else where there's no extradition?”

“Listen, Nic, I know we haven't had a chance to hash out the details surrounding the casino and your involvement, but I promise you that we'll work it out as soon as I get back.”

“I'm not worried about it because there's not going to be a casino deal. In fact, your schedule is going to be pretty open for the next few decades.”

“Listen, I don't know what you're talking about, but I don't appreciate you coming onto my plane unannounced.”

I take a sip of the drink. I love having a self-proclaimed master of the universe by the stones. “You have very expensive taste when it comes to Hennessey, Mr. Knott. Beauté du Siècle. That has to set you back, what, a hundred grand?”

“Get off my plane right now!” Knott says.

“This is the same liquor you had Cameron deliver to his brother Demetrius. Only that bottle was laced with poison,” I say before I pour the glass out on the carpet.

“What the—” Knott advances toward me, but I stand up, and he realizes that while he may have more money than me, he'll lose in a hand-to-hand fight.

“I'm calling the police.”

“You don't get it, do you? Where's your pilot? Where's the flight attendant?” I ask.

“What are you talking about?” Knott is befuddled.

“Take a look outside of the window.”

Knott follows my instructions and looks outside his window. FBI agents scramble outside of his plane.

“The feds gave me the honor of telling you that you're going to spend the rest of your life in prison. Extortion, racketeering—you name it, but you and I both know that there is another jacket you deserve to wear—murderer.”

“Murderer?” Knott says.

“You used Cameron to do your dirty work, and he killed three people and tried to kill me.”

“You could've come to me, and we could've worked something out,” Knott says.

“As you can see, this is not something that you can just cut the check for and it's over and done with,” I say.

Knott looks at me, and then he looks outside the window. Agents are now outside of their cars positioned to take him down as soon as he steps off the plane. He starts to laugh.

“Hot darn, boy, you're good. Naïve, though. I won't spend a day in prison, and if I do, it'll be better than the slum you live in.”

“Even if you buy your way out of prison, you still won't escape God and His laws.”

Knott gives me a dismissive wave as he heads toward the door. “You better hope that God protects you, because you had a brilliant opening move, Nic, but I will get the checkmate. Just you wait and see.”

Knott walks out of his plane like he's a politician greeting his loyal constituents. As soon as he touches the ground, the feds move in and arrest him. Knott has a smile on his face the whole time, as if he knew a punch line to a joke we haven't heard. I have a seat and pour a glass of this very fine Hennessey. I'm quitting after this drink. I'm going to sober up and this isn't a bad way to go before I go back on the wagon.