No Sin in Paradise (4 page)

“I'm sorry. I was lost in my own thoughts.”

“We were talking about Pastor Cole and his ministry and who might've killed him,” Victory says.

A pretty morbid conversation to have over fish, but then again, I can imagine a murder occurring on a neighboring island is rare and how that would be the talk of the town.

“What about it?”

“We were just saying that the devil hates success in the Kingdom and with a worldwide ministry, who knows how many greedy people were after him,” Adele says.

“Did he really have an international ministry?” I ask.

The group gives me a quizzical look. I know the question seems absurd, but it's not.

“Yes, he had churches in Africa, Afghanistan, and Europe,” Sammy says.

“Do you know what a satellite church is? They set up a big flat-screen TV in a room and Pastor Cole preaches to them, and they collect an offering. What I find funny, well, not really funny but interesting, is of all the testimonies of people with fancy cars, big homes, and obese bank accounts, none of them have come from one of these satellite churches. It's a lot easier to preach prosperity in a land that's fueled by greed.”

“Who says people in Africa need a Rolls-Royce?” Sammy Moses says. “People use their faith for different things. Some people use their faith to build, while others use their faith to endure.”

“But I think the point that is getting lost is the fact that the Gospel is being preached. Who cares if it's being done through a flat-screen television set up in a hut in Nairobi?” Victory asks.

“Maybe that's because there are a lot of homes in Nairobi that don't have a television, let alone a flat screen,” I say.

“Doc, you're arguing semantics. The bottom line is that Pastor Cole was about building the Kingdom.”

“Oh, Pastor Cole was about building. Building a bigger building,” I say.

“And how many buildings have you built through your ministry? Don't criticize a man for doing something, unless you endeavor to do better,” Adele says.

That stings to not have an answer to Adele's question. My friends shook their heads at my cynicism. I must've gotten too comfortable because usually I do a better job of concealing my sentiments. At the same time, I can't always be cloak-and-dagger.

“I'm just saying that sometimes people don't need a new car. They just need to know that there is a better life available. Everything else is a distraction from the true meaning of the Gospel,” I say.

“And in that regard, I don't think there's that much of a difference between you and Cole,” Victory says. “In the end, we're different parts in the same body.”

Victory receives a round of applause from everyone at the table. She may have a point, and, in truth, I can go on for hours and debate with her, but my attention has been directed to the man on the other side of the restaurant whose attention is set dead square on us. I know that he can't possibly be listening to our conversation, given that the restaurant is somewhat busy. And there's no way he could pick up on our conversation from where he's standing. From where I'm sitting, I see that the man has dreads that go all the way down his back. His black skin makes his bloodshot eyes stand out.

I am always alert and aware of my surroundings; that is both my gift and my curse. There are some things I don't want to notice, like this gentleman with the dreads in his mustard-colored two-piece suit. I'm uneasy, and I know that I'm not being paranoid. Victory snaps her fingers to get my attention again.

“Are we boring you?” she asks.

“No, I'm just reflecting on what Pastor Cole could've been involved in that would've caused someone to murder him.”

“Lord, we came here to eat, not play Angela Lansbury,” Adele says.

“Well, I know one thing that will be a mystery we will be debating over for years. Not too many stones will be turned over for a preacher. This generation doesn't believe in anything it can't create,” Sammy says.

“Yeah, the world has become a much-scarier place now. I don't know what to tell these young folks other than to believe in Jesus and walk with Him,” Adele says.

“I know when I do volunteer work at the local schools, I can't even relate to these kids and what they're going through. I don't know what to say to them but to follow God,” Victory says.

“But most people don't know what it means to follow God. To be Christlike, they can't see the rewards. With all due respect, that's why I vehemently oppose pastors like Cole. We can't expect for anyone to grow healthy spiritually if we're too caught up in the materialistic rewards,” I say.

“I know this much, there weren't any school shootings in my day. Of course, we used to say a prayer at the beginning of the day too,” Sammy says.

I check out the room, and the unnerving individual has not only gotten up from his table, he is making his way toward us.

“Excuse me, but I couldn't help but to notice your conversation, and I was wondering if I could join you?” that man asks.

“You noticed our conversation from where you were sitting?” I ask.

My question causes my new mysterious friend to cut me with his eyes. I don't flinch; instead, I just sit back with a mean look of my own. He chuckles and tries to downplay my question.

“No, you can't,” Adele says with certain sharpness. “You're not welcomed here.”

It appears Adele knows this gentleman and has the same reservations I have with him. So far, Adele is winning in the meanest-look contest.

“Now go on back to where you came from Demetrius. We don't want the likes of you over here bothering us.”

“Adele, don't be rude now,” Sammy says before he turns to Demetrius. “Go-ahead and have a seat. I apologize for my friend.”

“I don't need nobody apologizing for me, you hear? I don't want to be in the presence of a man like him.” Adele points at Demetrius, and now I am curious as to who this individual is and why Adele has such a disdain for him.

“It's quite all right. I understand that my business may cause some concern, but I can assure you that I'm square.” Demetrius takes a seat.

“And what is your business, Demetrius?” I ask.

Demetrius turns his evil look toward me. Whatever is the reason why he is here, it's not for anyone to get to know him.

“I am in the export business,” he says.

Now that is a bold-faced lie. He didn't do any of the gestures, but his delivery is pitch-perfect. A man on the up-and-up is thrown off when someone accuses him of being otherwise. Demetrius is not the slightest fazed by Adele's accusations. If I have to guess, Demetrius dabbles in the drug trade. I know it's awful to assume that a black man from the island is a drug dealer, but Demetrius doesn't strike me as an honest businessman.

“Whew, the devil is a liar.” Adele starts to fan herself.

“Export, that seems very profitable out here,” Victory says.

“The truth is I've brought prosperity to Crystal Cove. And my vision is for this place to be as modern as anywhere else in the world.”

Adele groans, not wanting to sit through any more of this conversation. “I'd rather see this island go back into the dark ages than to see it built on blood money. Now go on and get.”

Now
that
comment enraged Demetrius; at least his eyes showed rage while his posture remains intact. If things were to escalate, I could kick Demetrius in the shin and use my knife I have in front of me, but I couldn't predict the outcome would be in my favor. I'm not even in the same weight class as Demetrius. He's at least two hundred and sixty-five pounds of solid muscle.

“I would dare you to find money that doesn't have blood on it.” Demetrius breaks the tension with a smile. “My competitors like to spin stories about me, but the truth is, I have done what is considered the impossible. I have created wealth in the islands.”

“Is that what you've done?” I ask.

“Certainly. The islands are known as a place of buried wealth. For someone such as me to come from humble means and become a success intimidates most.”

“You soiled your family's legacy. They were good, honest folks, but that wasn't enough for you,” Adele says.

“With all due respect, ma'am, you don't know my family's history.”

“I knew your family. Your father ran a fishing business by the docks. Now
he
was an honest businessman,” Adele says.

“I'm an honest businessman as well.”

Adele leans forward and looks at Demetrius with all seriousness. “You can call yourself whatever you want, but I know who you really are and how you got your wealth. Do you want me to call you by your
real
name?”

Demetrius lets out a chuckle for what I assume is to kill the tension and throw absurdity on top of Adele's claim. “I don't want to ruin your evening. That's not my intention, but I just wanted to come by and offer some advice.”

“And what's that?” I say, still in attack mode.

“You know what they say about the islands?” Demetrius asks before he pulls out a cigar, lights it, and smokes it.

“What's that?” Victory asks.

I can only assume that Demetrius did this for dramatic reasons. He waits. He does not answer the question right away. Instead, he takes a couple of puffs and allows the smoke to escape from his lips.

“They say it's the land of buried wealth,” Demetrius answers.

“And why is that?” I ask.

“Be careful where you dig around here. Truth is, most people come to these islands looking for buried treasure and wind up getting buried.”

Demetrius's eyes did not stray from me as he made his statement. I might not be the smartest man in the world, but I'm certainly not the dumbest. And I do recognize a threat on my life when I hear one.

The next morning I wake up like I have done before for the past two-and-a-half weeks and stand at the shore. Only this time, Victory is standing right beside me, taking in the delightful air and warm water. My thoughts are not on just the prayer, nor are they on how exquisite Victory looks in her one-piece bathing suit and sarong. No, my thoughts keep going back to Demetrius and his subtle . . . and very real threat. I need to go back to the island and deliver Elisha's message as well as ask Pastor Bryant a few questions.

“Come on, slowpoke,” Victory says.

Victory gives me a slight nudge from her hips. I open my eyes to see the wind carry her sarong away while Victory immerses herself in the water and starts swimming. I follow after her. It doesn't take me long to realize that Victory is not a casual swimmer, but a swimmer who has spent time in the competitive world of swimming. I'm a fast swimmer, but I have to dig deeper and push harder just to catch up with her. I'm getting more of a workout than usual.

I've been trying to catch up with Victory since the time I've met her. She went through life with her eyes wide open, both to the beauties and the horrors of the world. Victory attacks each day with a ferocious appetite to live and to live out loud. In so many ways I envy her and wish that if only for a moment I could have the same spirit and joy she possesses.

We continue on for about three-fourths of a mile until Victory decides to pause to catch her breath. We tread water in the middle of the ocean. The water is still warm, the ocean has a breeze, and the sky is open.

“You didn't know I have skills?” Victory says.

“I don't know a lot of things.”

“Neither do I,” she says.

“Why me? Why would you take a sudden interest in me?” I ask.

“Why not you?” Victory shoots back.

“You're going to answer the question with a question?” I ask.

“No, I'm going to let you answer your own question.”

Victory dips her head under the water, and then pops back up and wipes the water from her face.

“And why would I answer my own question?”

“Because it's more fun that way.”

I don't budge. I like to hold my ground, but oddly enough, I'm in an environment where there is no firm ground. I have to tread water.

“I find the causal question-and-answer thing boring,” Victory says.

“So you're all about thinking outside of the box?”

“Correction, in my world, there is no box,” Victory smiles.

How does one become so daring and graceful? That is a question that may remain elusive to me.

“I don't know. I saw you, and I said, ‘This is a handsome anointed man of God in need of a good laugh.'”

I chuckle right on cue, which further proves Victory's point.

“I laugh, maybe not all the time, but I do laugh.”

“No, you chuckle because that's the appropriate thing people do when someone says something funny, but when was the last time you let laughter invade your whole being?”

She's got me there. I can't remember the last time I laughed in God knows how long. Victory splashes water in my face.

“See, that's what I'm talking about. You think too much.”

“You may be right, but what about you, Victory? What do
you
want?”

“I want to lay my head back and let the water run through my hair.” Victory lays her head back and closes her eyes. We both feel the warmth on our skin.

It doesn't take much to realize what Victory wants out of life. She wants to be present at all times. My envy toward her is as strong as my attraction to her.

“That's all you want?”

“Our biggest problem comes from wanting too much. Then we act like spoiled children when we don't get our way,” she says.

“There's nothing wrong with wanting things,” I reply.

“No, but we should always be thankful for the moment.”

Victory dips her hair back into the water again, and then she locks eyes on me once more. “All I want right now is to beat your butt in another race.”

Victory takes off and starts swimming back to shore. She really has to learn how to follow the rules, or maybe I have to learn that Victory is not racing to win, she is racing to live in the now. I put up a better showing, but I still lose the second race.

“That was fun,” Victory says as she walks up and retrieves her sarong. I take her by the hand, and we walk up to Adele's house.

Victory is occupying the upstairs room across from mine. Adele's room is downstairs on the opposite side of the kitchen. She has made it clear that there is no shacking up in her house.

“So what are we going to do today?” Victory asks.

“I actually have to go to Green Cove and take care of a few things,” I say.

“So what time are we leaving?”

“Actually, this is a solo mission. It will only take a couple hours, and I'll be back before you know it,” I say.

“Oh no, you're not about to leave me again. Now yesterday I know I caught you off guard, but today is a different story.”

I have no intention of leaving Victory, but I have work to do. “It will only be for a couple of hours.”

“Then it will only take a couple of hours. I love Adele and everything, but I didn't come all the way down here to spend time with her. Now you have business to conduct, that's fine, but I'm coming with you. I'll try to be as discrete as possible.”

In one swift motion, I take Victory by the hands and kiss them. How can I say no to her? I can't, and that's a dangerous thing. Especially when I'm trying to find out who murdered Pastor Cole.

“Sure, I just have a few boring meetings, but you can tag along.”

“Excellent. It sounds like fun,” she says.

I chuckle and shake my head as Victory and I walk up to Adele's deck.

“Why don't you go on ahead and get started with breakfast. I have a few phone calls to make.”

“Okay,” Victory says as she walks over to Adele.

I wave at Adele as I go into the house. I'm glad that I have no reason to try to sneak upstairs because Adele's stairs squeak so loudly that anyone on the island can hear me walking up the stairs. Once upstairs in my room I grab my cell phone. Even on vacation, the rest of the church world continues to struggle with potential scandals. My phone is inundated with missed calls and voice mail messages. The mere sight of the phone causes exhaustion. How many people need help with their problems? I placed my phone on silent when I arrived because I didn't want to be disturbed.

From the window in my room I have a view of the ocean. I can't quite pick up the smell of the sea, but it is awe-inspiring when I look at it. I think about not going back to the States.

I could get citizenship here, which would be an agonizing process, but I don't think Adele will mind me staying on a permanent basis so long as I agree to watch
Justified
religiously and keep Sammy Moses at bay.

Maybe Sammy and I can go into business together, but that's just a thought. The thought of being on the other side of the world away from Victory is what keeps me from staying here. It's not that we are an item; we haven't even had
that
discussion. But that is neither here nor there; right now, I'm in the room for one purpose and one purpose only, and that is to call my friend Paul from the
LA Times
.

“So Nic Dungy finally decides to come up for air and give his friend a call,” Paul says.

“Hey, Paul, how are you?”

“Same old, same old. I'm fighting an uphill battle against bloggers.”

“Listen, I need a favor,” I say.

“What else is new?”

I laugh; I guess Paul and my friendship is predictable. Oh, well, I can't be a great friend to everyone. This is why my list of friends is so short.

“I need you to look up someone for me, a guy by the name of Demetrius Turner. He's an island-born, self-made businessman.”

“What kind of trouble you've gotten into now?”

“Nothing I can't handle.”

“Okay, I'll give you a cookie and look into this for you.”

“I need this information ASAP.”

“Um, no,” Paul snaps back.

“It's important,” I say.

“Look, I already have one annoying boss; I don't need a second one.”

I know that I ask a lot of Paul, but this can literally be life or death for me. The information Paul uncovers can crack this whole case wide open.

“This wouldn't have anything to do with Pastor Cole's death, now, would it?” As usual, Paul is always abreast of what is happening both Stateside and abroad.

“Maybe, why? What are you hearing?”

“The popular theory is that his associate had something to do with it. He stands to inherit an empire that Cole built.”

I know Pastor Stevens. He lived in California, and we ran in the same circles until Pastor Cole offered him the associate pastor's position. I doubt that this has anything to do with Pastor Stevens wanting to become senior pastor.

“I know I'm wasting my breath, but be careful. It sounds like there is a lot of shady stuff revolving around Pastor Cole's death. The last thing I need is to read about you coming up dead or missing.”

“I will.”

Of course, that's a lie I tell myself. In truth, trouble always knows where I stay. If Demetrius is anywhere near the dangerous character that I think he is, then I'm going to need to be wise in how I both approach and deal with him. I try to not let the possibility of people close to me being hurt deter me from being able to complete my assignment.

I try to look outside my window and remind myself that I'm in paradise, and that there is no need to worry. I try . . . and I fail. When I head downstairs, I try to take in the laughter and witty banter that is going on back and forth between Sammy Moses and Adele.

“Hey, Doc, how are you?” Sammy greets me.

“Fine,” I say before I go over and give Adele a kiss on the forehead.

I take a seat next to Victory, and I give her a kiss on the hands.

“I was just telling Victory that she needs to take a ride on my boat,” Sammy says.

“And I was just telling her that if she wants to live to be an old woman, then she must stay clear away from Sammy and his cursed boat.”

“My boat is not cursed,” Sammy snaps back.

“That's not what the witch doctor says. She says she cursed your boat and anyone who dares steps foot on it.”

Sammy is sent reeling by Adele's accusation. I enjoy watching these two go at it like aging prizefighters.

“Now, Adele, you're a Christian woman and shouldn't be talking about no witchcraft,” Sammy says.

“What? I'm telling the truth. Don't be mad at me because you're cursed.”

“For the last time, woman, I ain't cursed.”

“All I know is that strange things happen whenever you are on that boat, like the time when you got struck by lightning without a cloud in the sky.”

“Well, that's just a freak occurrence,” he says.

“What about the fact that the boat done sunk three times—without a single hole in it?” Adele asks.

“That's a bit of an exaggeration. It only sank twice, and who knows what could've caused it.”

“I know
exactly
what done caused it. Your crazy self done messed around with that witch doctor and now until you do right by her, everything you touch will sink.” Adele turns to Victory. “You best stay far away from Sammy and his cursed boat.”

All Sammy can do is give Adele a dismissive wave. Victory makes no attempt to hide her laughter. She glances over at me. I bet she wonders why I'm not enjoying this elderly couple argue in the middle of paradise. That's because, once again, I find myself thrown into the fray—doing the one job that I seem best suited for, and that is why I can't be present in the moment, enjoying a good laugh.

“Ooh, Sammy, you were going to have me get on a cursed boat?” Victory asks.

“No, Love, I would never put you in harm's way.”

“You better off getting that boat Gilligan and them got on,” Adele says.

The whole table has a nice laugh at Sammy's expense.

“Anyways, what are you guys planning to get into?” Sammy asks.

“Actually, we need to book a charter flight. I was thinking of giving your son a call.”

Sammy pretended like his orange juice went down the wrong pipe. I have to remind myself that before I leave this island, I need to get down to the bottom of the beef between Sammy and his son Donny.

“Well, I'm sure if you give him a call he'd be willing to help you out,” Sammy says.

“Actually, I was wondering if you could give us a ride to the airport,” I ask.

This time, Sammy
really
was choking on his juice until Adele gave him a good hard slap on the back.

“Well, I would love to help you, Doc, but my transmission is slipping, and I need to get it looked at.”

“That's funny, because you offered to take me on a ride around the island yesterday,” Adele says.

Adele and I have put Sammy in the corner with nowhere to hide.

“Okay, I'll drop you guys off, but I have to be honest. My brakes are going out, so please forgive me if I don't come to a complete stop before I let you guys out.”

 

 

The flight went as smooth as it did the first time around. Even though this is not the first flight I made with Donny, it still feels like it's my first flight with Victory on board.

She marveled at the sight of the islands. I wish I had time to take Victory to the different islands so that she can enjoy and marvel at their splendor up close, and I could enjoy and marvel at her.

When we land, Donny escorts Victory off the plane, and then waits for me to walk off.

“That's a special girl you have, Doc,” Donny says.