No Sin in Paradise (6 page)

From Sammy's place, I go back to Adele's house. Adele is sitting in her living room with the TV on while reading a magazine.

“Hey, Adele.”

“Hey, sugar. I was wondering where you were,” she says.

“I hung out with Sammy for a minute. Where's Victory?”

“Victory is in her room taking a nap.”

Adele gives me a look that reinforces the no shacking up in her house rule. I'm spending so much time hunting down a murderer that the thought of being tempted by a beautiful woman is the farthest thing on my mind.

“What's wrong with you?” Adele asks.

“Demetrius came by the church today.”

“I know, I saw him there too. Even the devil goes to church sometimes.”

“Yeah, he's starting to pop up everywhere I go, and it's making me nervous.”

Adele lets out a grunt before she gets up and starts to head out of the living room. “Come on, I got something for you.”

I follow Adele out of the living room, and we walk past one of her two bathrooms to the room that she has kept closed the entire time I've been here.

This is the one room that she does not rent out to guests. Adele opens the double doors, and it becomes clear why this room is off-limits.

The room is a memorial to Adele's late husband, Melvin Paige. In this room there are wedding photos, certificates of service, and Melvin's service uniform. Melvin served in the army during Vietnam. Something else, in this room are all of Melvin's weapons. Guns, knives, you name it. I'm sure that when he was alive, Adele felt safe.

“Here you go. You can use this.” She hands me a 9 mm pistol.

I didn't expect for Adele to have this many guns in her house. I mean, I don't think anybody would be foolish enough to try to break into her home, but Adele is prepared if a small army invades her home.

“Thank you, Adele.”

“It was Melvin's gun. I walked in one day and see him with that gun in his mouth. The war changed him.”

“So I hear.”

“Yeah, he went into himself and resented everybody and everything, including God. He was mad at God for what he had to do to survive.”

“What did you do?” I ask.

“I did what came natural. I loved him through it. I prayed for him for years, and for years I thought that God wasn't listening. Then I had a revelation that God is eternal. He's not bound by time, but He does pay attention to position. Melvin had to be in the right position to forgive God, and he and I had to be in the right position to love Him unconditionally.”

Adele's tale is both heartbreaking and cautionary. If Melvin could overcome his past to enjoy what he had with Adele, then why can't I? Perhaps there is still hope for me as long as I am willing to walk away from the things that are destroying me.

“Thanks again, Adele.”

“No problem, sweetie. You take care of yourself.”

“Will do.” I take the gun and head upstairs to my room.

I get on the phone and call Paul from the
LA Times
. After several missed calls and several urgent text messages, Paul finally answers the phone.

“Even on vacation you're still a pain in the neck.”

“Brother, it's good to hear from you.” I mean it, I don't have very many friends, but Paul is one of them. “So you got that information for me?”

“I know you've been in the Bahamas, but out here, we have a really tight mayoral race, and I've been really busy.”

The mayoral race is the furthest thing on my mind. I have an unknown enemy which is not good, because I don't know how to fight him. Paul's information can give me the advantage that I need.

“Yes, I got that information for you, and to sum it up, if you see this guy heading toward you, run in the opposite direction.”

Now that we have established a firm grasp on the obvious, I need Paul to dig deeper. There has to be more that Paul is leaving out. “Lay it on me. What else did you find out?”

“He basically owns three-fourths of the island you're on, but a lot of it has been bought through shell companies. He even owns a chunk of the island that the pastor who was murdered was killed on.”

Now that is both surprising and unsettling news. It doesn't take much to know that Demetrius is calling the shots around here, but the fact that he owns so much property on this island is disturbing because it means it's possible he may have something to do with Pastor Cole's death after all.

“Now the property he owns is very interesting. He owns the airport and three-fourths of the landing strip.”

“How do you own three-fourths of a landing strip?”

“That is the original length of the landing strip, but the pilots were having trouble landing on it, and Demetrius refused to put up the money to extend the landing strip. Then comes in Randall Knott with his millions. He bought the land around the airport and extended the landing strip.”

“I'm sure that didn't sit well with Demetrius.”

“It didn't. He wasn't making money, but he didn't make a big fuss.”

“Why not? That doesn't sound like the Demetrius I've met.”

It is a fair question. A guy is losing money and business and nothing happens. That is curious, to say the least.

“If I have to guess, Demetrius is a drug dealer, and he uses that airport to run drugs and conduct all of his shady business dealings.”

All I hear is drugs, and I check out. This adds a volatile piece to the puzzle—a drug runner, a business tycoon, and a dead preacher all on the same island. There are a million questions in between.

“This guy wants to meet me tonight.”

“Tonight? Didn't you just
hear
what I just said? You
can't
be that stupid.”

“I don't think I have a choice.”

“You
do
have a choice. You can stop being stupid and come home.”

“There are people whose lives will be at risk if I don't meet with him.”

Paul doesn't respond. He doesn't wish me well; he just hangs up the phone. I'm sure he's disgusted with me at this point. His final warning to me is not to do anything stupid, but I seem prone to do stupid things.

One day, I'm going to do the right and smart thing. Tonight is not that night. It's 9:50 p.m. and in a few minutes, one of Demetrius's minions will pick me up. I don't know if I'll return from this meeting, but I know that I have to find out the truth. The search for truth has made me the man that I am today. I pray that this quest does not lead to my demise.

“Nic, you don't want any dessert?” Victory extends a slice of Adele's sinful lemon cake toward me.

“No, thanks, I have to go somewhere for a little bit.”

“Where are you going at this hour? We have cake, and we're about to watch
Justified
.”

“
Justified
doesn't come on tonight,” I reply.

“I have four episodes recorded,” Adele says from the other side of the kitchen.

As much as I would love nothing more than to sit and eat cake, I would love to even watch
Justified
, but something tells me that Demetrius is not someone who handles being stood up.

“I'll just be gone for a minute. I'll be back in a little bit.” That is a lie. It's the second lie I've told Victory since I have met her; it's becoming a habit.

“Wait a minute, Nic. I thought that we were going to have a nice evening together where we spend quality time?”

“We will, I promise.”

Victory cocks her head to the side, and I realize that I did something I shouldn't have done. I made her a promise, and the worst thing I can do is promise Victory something I can't fulfill.

“Okay. No problem. Have a nice meeting.” Victory shrugs her shoulders and goes back into the kitchen.

I head for the door before I do something that I will regret . . . like not show up to this meeting. I had my sports coat on to conceal the gun Adele gave me earlier. I pray that I won't have to use it.

“Nic,” Adele says.

I stop and turn to look at her. “Adele, I have to go.”

“It'll just take a minute. We can step outside.”

I step outside of the house, and Adele closes the door behind her. The clock is ticking, and I don't have time for a sermon.

“I know you have to go, but let me tell you that you're making a mistake.”

“You're going to have to be a little more specific,” I say, since at this point, there are a few mistakes that I'm making.

“That girl has come all the way out here for you. That's a special girl, but you know that already.”

“I know. I know, and I'm trying.”

“Knowing is one thing, applying is something different,” Adele says.

“You're quoting Bruce Lee,” I say.

“Child, hush. The point is, trying isn't enough, not for someone like Victory. Don't be a fool.”

“I am a fool. I'm just hoping that one day I'll wise up.”

In the end, all I can do is shrug my shoulders as I step away from Adele. I walk away from her house remembering the sad look on Victory's face and Adele's words etched in my mind. That look will haunt me. This is not the trip I had envisioned for us. I walk along the back of Adele's house and at 10 p.m. on the dot, a Jeep pulls up. A window rolls down, and all I see is darkness; darkness and a man's face that I can't make out.

“Get in.”

That's all he says.

“Right to business, I like that,” I say.

I get into the car and not another word is said between my mystery driver and me. We travel up one long, winding road that leads to the top of the hill where Demetrius's house is located. In a place of paradise, Demetrius rules as king. I can say one thing for sure: when it gets dark on the island, it get terrifyingly dark. I realize I take things like streetlights for granted.

We arrive at the top of the hill, and the driver turns off the engine and exits the car without another word. I know why I'm here, so there's no need for further instructions. I just start walking toward Demetrius's mansion.

For a drug lord, the security is pretty nonexistent. Either Demetrius is low on the criminal totem pole, or no one is stupid enough to try anything. I don't think either scenario plays well for me, but I do lean more toward the former as opposed to the latter. I follow the driver through the front door.

Once inside, it's all-black. I can't even begin to make out the interior except for the golden chandelier and the bright light that radiates from the living room. Once in the living room, I see the biggest projection screen I have ever seen in my life. A soccer match is on. One of Demetrius's henchmen proceeds to conduct a search. He pats me down and finds the gun Adele gave me in my back pocket. He takes the gun and walks over to Demetrius.

“He had this on him,” the henchman says as he hands the gun over to Demetrius.

Now that Demetrius knows that I'm carrying, this meeting can get real interesting. I just hope that it doesn't turn deadly.

“You brought a gun to a meeting? How Christian of you,” Demetrius says.

“Most Christians I know carry heat. They cling to the Old Testament,” I say.

Demetrius laughs, and even some of his henchmen manage to chuckle. The gun turned out to be a stupid play, but it got a laugh out of Demetrius, which kills the tension in the room.

“Do you like soccer, Mr. Dungy?” Demetrius says with his back to me while sitting on the couch and smoking a cigar.

“It's okay.” In truth, the only things that I know about soccer is that it's a bore to watch compared to football, and that David Beckham used to be a great player. Now he is just an underwear model.

The thing I find most alarming about Demetrius is that he knows my name, which means he's resourceful. They are a real chatty group. It's clear that Demetrius rules over his men with fear. I need to gauge where Demetrius is mentally, and while I think this move is stupid, I doubt that it could be any more stupid than me getting into the car with a loaded gun.

“So are we going to do this or what?”

“What?” Demetrius says as he sits up and turns toward me.

“Well, seeing that you had no problems killing one preacher, I'm sure you won't hesitate to kill another.”

Yeah, I'm sure that was a stupid move. Demetrius stood up and walks toward me. He is, without a doubt, one of the most imposing individuals I've met. He dwarfs me. I wouldn't stand a chance in a fair fight. I give Demetrius a once-over. I'm looking for weak points, but I can't find any. He just stares at me without a shirt on, and with Demetrius's dark skin, the ink of his tattoos are barely recognizable considering.

“You think I brought you here to kill you? Is
that
why you brought a gun?” Demetrius looks surprised.

“I certainly don't think you brought me here for prayer. So let's get on to the reason why I'm here, because it's getting past my bedtime.”

Demetrius gives me an evil smirk. Boy, I wish I could wipe that smirk off his face.

“Why would I want to kill a preacher?”

“My guess, he found out something about you that you didn't want anybody to know,” I say.

Demetrius nods his head as he takes another puff on his cigar. I can't even begin to draw the connection between Demetrius and Pastor Cole, but there must be a connection there somewhere.

“I didn't kill that preacher. I don't know how you do things in the States, but where I'm from, it's disrespectful for a man to accuse another man of something in his own home.”

The smirk is gone. Now Mr. Hyde has stepped in. Now it's time to dance.

“Threaten a man and those who he cares about are disrespectful in any country,” I say.

I need to show him that I'm not afraid . . . even though I am terrified. Demetrius can kill me just like he may have killed Pastor Cole. Only difference is while Pastor Cole's murder caused a small ripple, my death won't cause any ripple at all. Many would rejoice over my death, and only a few would mourn. I imagine Paul would, Spider, Victory, Adele, and Sammy, but that's it. The road of a fixer is a lonely road, and it has to be if a fixer is worth his salt.

In a sudden twist, Demetrius starts to laugh. Neither one of us cracked a joke. One thing I can tell from Demetrius's laugh is that he didn't bring me here to kill me. He would've done it already. No, Demetrius brought me here to use me, but in what capacity I'm not sure.

“Why are you not with the rest of them?”

“The rest of them—you mean the ministers at the conference on the island next door?”

Demetrius gives me a head nod. Now I know that part of this meeting is about what's going on at Green Cove.

“I didn't come here for the conference. I'm on vacation. Plus, I don't play well with others,” I say.

“Finally, something we both have in common,” Demetrius says.

In the future, I'm going to try to avoid having too many things in common with a drug lord.

“You spend your vacation poking your nose in other people's affairs?” Demetrius asks.

My knee-jerk reaction is no, but if I take an objective view of the past few days, then even I would have to conclude that I have spent more time in other folks' business than actually enjoying the sun.

“I did mention it's my bedtime?” I ask.

“All right, then, I'll get to the point. You've been utilizing my airport a lot since you've been here.”

“I thought the airport belongs to Randall Knott,” I say just to stir the pot.

“It's
my
airport,” Demetrius's voice reverberates throughout the room like thunder.

I knew that, but playing devil's advocate allows me to better gauge from what angle Demetrius is coming from. It also allows me to see just how much animosity Demetrius has toward Knott. Is it enough to make him want to kill everyone and everything in his path?

“It's my airport. I own the landing strip that you land on. Randall Knott is a thief. Any man associated with him is a thief as well. So what does that make you, Mr. Dungy?”

“I couldn't care less about Randall Knott, and I really don't care about the dead preacher so long as killing preachers doesn't become a habit,” I say.

Demetrius lets out a monstrous laugh. It gives me the chills; his voice sounds like he has something demonic on the inside of him. Maybe it's my mind, or maybe Demetrius is demon-possessed, which would explain a lot of things.

“Well, I may not be a God-fearing man, but I don't kill preachers. Of course, there is always that exception. You may have to ask Knott.”

“Why would I ask him?”

“Because there wasn't any dead preachers until he got involved. They've had their conferences for years, no problems. Then all of sudden, this year, there's bloodshed.”

 

I hate to admit this, but part of me believes him. He doesn't have a reason to lie to me. He could bury me somewhere on this island where no one will be able to find me and not lose an ounce of sleep. Demetrius confessing to me that he didn't kill Cole means that there is something he needs from me.

“I'll make sure to ask Knott, but what's the point of me being here?”

“Two things. One, the girl you visited yesterday, don't ever go to her house again.”

“Why is that?” I ask.

“I'm a friend that doesn't want her to be bothered.”

That means Elisha has a connection with Demetrius, which means that Demetrius didn't kill her father. I'm back at square one with no real leads. Tomorrow, I'm going to have to go back to Elisha's place and deliver the check from Pastor Bryant to her.

“What's the second thing?”

“The second thing is since you're a minister and Knott can't tell the difference between one preacher and another, I want you to find out what he's planning, and then report back to me.”

“So I work for you now?”

“God, no. Work would imply that I'm going to pay you. No, this is a favor.”

“A favor? A favor will imply that you will owe me one, then,” I say.

Demetrius puts his cigar out in a nearby ashtray. He still has plenty of cigar left. Either he's wasteful or he put out the cigar to illustrate a point.

“You find out what I need to know and I won't stop by Adele's house for some of her coconut cake. Which, I hear, is quite good.”

I will never forgive myself for getting Adele involved in my mess. I have a home, and I can get up and go back at a moment's notice. Adele, on the other hand, has to stay on the island with this monster.

There are not too many ways I can play this, and I can't negotiate from a position of weakness. I have to convince Demetrius that I have the upper hand, when, in actuality, I don't.

“I don't think you would want to show up at Adele's house uninvited, and you don't have to make threats to convince me to help you. Threats are usually made by someone who doesn't have power.”

Demetrius takes a step closer. He is now in striking distance, but I doubt there is anything I could do that would even stun a behemoth like him. Physically, I'm powerless.

“You'd be even more of a fool if you think that I don't have power.”

“You don't, because if you did, you would know what Randall Knott has planned, but you don't,” I say.

“You're just a big-time gangster on a small island. You're no match for someone like Randall Knott who can crush you without leaving his breakfast table. You don't want me to spy on Knott for you; you need me too.”

After my last comment, I took a deep breath and braced for Demetrius to plummet me. He balled up his fist and even looked like he was going to do it, but he didn't. Instead, he swallowed his anger and let his smile take over.

“I like you, Nic. You got guts, I'll give you that. You're right, I do need you, but I don't need Adele or that old man or that sweet girl that you've been walking around with. So what's it going to be?”

I love how he frames that question . . . as if I have a choice in the matter. I don't. Tomorrow I would have to go knocking on Randall Knott's door to see what I can find out about Pastor Cole's death. As far as Demetrius's first request goes, after I deliver the money to Elisha, we can go our separate ways.