No Sin in Paradise (7 page)

“I'll look into it,” I say.

“As they say, pleasure doing business with you.” Demetrius extends his arm to the front door.

“You really should watch soccer,” he says just before I reach the door. I turn to look at him. “It's a game of strategy and endurance.”

Strategy and endurance. Those are the two things I'll need if I'm going to survive this ordeal.

“I'll keep that in mind.” I then head out the door.

“Don't forget this.” Demetrius summons one of his henchmen to bring me my gun.

He takes the gun and examines it with a smile before handing it over to me. “Here, the gun is a little too girly for my taste.”

Demetrius lets out a big laugh, and the other men join in on the laugh. Well, at least I got Adele's gun back, and I didn't have to use it.

My driver walks beside me and escorts me back to the car. A deal has just been concluded, but I wonder which devil I made it with.

For the first time since we met, I'm trying to avoid Victory. I can't handle her disappointment in me. I can't bear entering the room and seeing this woman who I care about being so disgusted to even look at me. What is even more frustrating is that I'm being played by two men. I have allowed myself to be played, which is even more frustrating. Two men are using me as a pawn—Pastor Bryant and Demetrius—to do their bidding, and then there is Knott. I haven't met him, but I'm certain that he will want to employ my services as soon as we meet. Provided that I get close enough to Mr. Fortune 500 to even have a conversation with him.

I wouldn't blame Victory for wanting to pack up her things and leave. I'm sure this is not the trip she had in mind. That's the reason why I don't let anyone get close. That's the reason why I'm alone. I can't tear myself away from the problem-solving business, and I'm afraid of the man I would be without it. I thought Victory would be different. I mean, I thought that I would be a different person with her. We have a connection, and there's no denying it, but it seems like as strong as the connection we have, the pull to my dark calling is stronger. Lord knows where I will end up when this song plays out. Maybe it will end with me being in the lake of fire.

I finally found enough intestinal fortitude to get up and head downstairs. As I get closer to the kitchen I can smell the biscuits being made. Adele makes her biscuits from scratch. I arrive at the kitchen where, at the end of Adele's long white table, sits Victory. She's cutting up a mango.

“I'll be ready for you in a minute, sugar,” Adele says to Victory.

“Okay,” Victory says before she turns to me and flashes me a smile.

The smile is neither pleasant nor condemning; it just conveys that she's content. That means she still hasn't given up on me, and it's up to me to turn things around.

“Did you sleep okay?” Victory asks me, but she doesn't make eye contact.

“Yeah, I slept fine.”

In truth, I didn't sleep. I can't sleep. The lives of those who I care about are at stake, and I have millions of reason why I need to find out who killed Pastor Cole. Sleep doesn't come to a man that has a million questions weighing on his head.

“Nic, could you set the table?” Adele asks.

“Sure.”

I take the plates and the silverware from her and walk outside onto her deck and start to set the table.

Victory comes outside. She still avoids eye contact. She starts to place fruit and biscuits in the center of the table.

“About last night,” I say, but Victory stops me with her hand.

“Last night was last night. Let's just have breakfast and go on with our day.”

My mission is taking its toll on the serene personality of Victory. That is the last thing I want, but I had to go last night to ensure her safety.

Of course, I can always return Pastor Bryant's money and spend the rest of my time here with Victory.

We ate a nice breakfast and made small talk. After breakfast, Victory and I decide to help Adele by doing the dishes together.

“I want to take you somewhere,” I say.

“Really? You sure you want me to tag along?”

I feel the sting of that dig. I deserve it, and in all honesty, I deserve way worse than what Victory is giving me.

“Yes, you and only you, but it's a little bit of a hike.”

Victory flashes a smile, and it's a pleasant one. “You're tired of getting whooped in swimming, I see.”

I throw my hands up in mock surrender. “You got me there. I am tired.”

“Okay. I'll go easy on you and give you a break from the butt-whooping,” she says.

 

Behind Adele's home is not only a road, but on the other side of the road there is a narrow trail. A trail the tropical trees overlap and provide shade for, but there is still enough space where the sun can break through. Victory and I walk side by side along this narrow trail. The path is so narrow that sometimes I would walk in front of Victory.

“Has Adele taken you along this trail?”

“No, Sammy told me about this trail, and I decided to walk it one day. I thought about you when I arrived at this one spot.”

“Really?”

“Really,” I say.

“Well, that makes a girl feel special.”

I look back, and there is Victory's smile again. Her smile is a gift to me, and I would give anything for that smile to remain permanently on her face, maybe even a million dollars. She takes out her cell phone and starts to snap pictures. Then she catches me looking at her with one raised eyebrow.

“What? This is proof that I was here.”

“You haven't seen nothing yet. You may want to save those pictures for later.”

We keep on walking until the road widens and we're able to walk side by side. Victory takes my hand and walks with me. She seems to have forgiven me for my transgressions, which is amazing in itself. I don't know any women who can handle being invited to paradise by a man, and that man being gone half the time. Of course, Victory is unlike any woman I've ever met.

I came to a sudden stop and motioned for Victory to stop as well.

“What is it?” she asks.

I don't respond to her verbally, I just signal for her to listen with her ears.

I point up, and at the very top of the tropical tree, we can hear the sound of birds as they race from one tree to the next. It's a beautiful sound, one that I can't put into words; I can only show it to Victory. We are only halfway to our destination, but when Mother Nature is putting on such a wonderful display, we can't help but to sit and listen. Victory lets out a playful laugh.

“I love Sac, but this is breathtaking.”

Victory takes another picture on her cell phone.

“You still haven't seen nothing yet.” I extend my hand, and Victory takes it, and we continue our journey.

“You keep saying that. I hope I'm not being built up for a disappointment,” she says.

“No, you're not. Believe me, it will be worth it.”

We continue walking, and the road narrows, and Victory starts to walk behind me once again.

“Where did you go last night?”

It's naïve for me to think that a long walk in paradise would avoid Victory's obvious question.

“I had a meeting with someone that I couldn't miss.”

“At ten o'clock at night? What kind of meeting?”

“I can't really get into it.”

“There are a lot of things that you don't talk about and I wonder why.”

I don't want to lie to Victory, but can she really handle me telling her that I spent last night with a drug lord who threatened me and those close to me?

“You know, it took an act of faith for me to get on the plane and come here. I wish you would show me the same kind of faith.”

“What do you want to know?”

“I want to know you, but it seems like your work in the ministry overshadows you as a person.”

“Oftentimes, I can't tell the difference.”

“No, there's more to you, Minister Dungy, than the ministry. There's more to you. Your title doesn't make you; it only illuminates the man that you are.”

Maybe there is, but it's buried deep down, and I lack the strength to excavate my true nature. Even now, surrounded by this beauty and with this beautiful woman, I can't pull myself away from the mystery surrounding Pastor Cole's death. Yesterday, I was certain that Demetrius was the killer, but now it looks like it may be Randall Knott, and that's a much-tougher man to get to than Demetrius.

“And whenever I ask you a personal question, you seem to space out on me like you're doing just now.”

“I'm sorry. I have a lot on my mind.”

“Be present.”

“I'm trying.”

“You're thinking being in the moment is not about thinking. If you're trying to be in the moment, then you'll never get there. Being in the moment means you don't think about anything else; you just experience what's in the here and now.”

That's a dangerous way to live . . . in the moment. I'm afraid of who I am if I just let go and live in the moment. I'm afraid of what my urges would do if I gave them free reign. No, for a minister, even one that is not so straitlaced, the moment can be very threatening.

We arrive at the spot that I want to show Victory. There is a little river that has a small waterfall next to it. I have seen beauty since coming to this island, but this place that is deep in the tropical forest provides me with serenity.

“This is it? This is the place you've been trying to show me?” Victory asks.

I detect a hint of disappointment in her voice.

“Yeah, this is it,” I say as I relieve myself of the picnic basket I had over my shoulder. “Sorry to disappoint.”

“No, I'm just curious as to how you found out about this place? It's not exactly a hop, skip, and a jump away.”

“No, it's not. I discovered this trail about the second day here. I started walking on this trail, and I kept walking until I arrived here.”

I motion to the waterfall. I start to unwrap the blanket and lay it down over the dirt ground. I didn't have a clue about what I was doing.

“And what did you think about with me?” Victory asks.

“I wonder what you would think of this place. I wonder if I would ever get a chance to share this spot with you.”

“Well, my coworkers think that I'm crazy for flying out here on the whim.”

“A leap of faith like you said,” I say.

“Yeah, that's what I told them. They are living vicariously through me. They expect to hear stories of romance and adventure when I get back.”

More like tales of murder, mayhem, a drug dealer, and coconut cake.

Victory sits down on the blanket, and I take a seat next to her. We share mangos, papaya, and other fruits I packed away for the trip, along with water and some fresh Bahamian Johnny bread that Adele baked. For a long time we eat in silence and enjoy the view and the sound the birds made as they fly across the water. The moment was not without annoyance. Some of the bugs decide to buzz around my ear and use it for target practice, and I would occasionally have to swipe them away.

“So when do you plan to go back?” Victory asks.

“I don't know. I try not to think about going back.”

“You know that there's this holiday coming up called Christmas. It's kind of a big deal in the church and the States.”

Aside from the obvious that Christmas is a day the church decides to recognize the birth of Christ, Christmas carries very little value to me. It's too commercialized, too materialistic, and I have no tolerance for my Lord and Savior's day being reduced to Macy's sales and Black Friday deals.

“I hear the islands are beautiful around this time of the year. I thought about staying.”

“I can imagine that these islanders would probably have a ball. Plus, who can resist the weather?”

“I don't know. Things are a lot simpler out here than back in the States,” I say, with the exception of the fact that there is a murderer running between these two islands. Of course, I probably would be bored right now if it wasn't for the murder and Victory's surprise arrival.

“Well, my home would love to have you visit for the holiday.”

Aside from the island, Victory's home is one of the few places I would rather be. Both places have given me a sense of family and connection. That means a lot to a loner like me.

“What's that over there?” Victory points to a small shack that is adjacent to the waterfall.

It was a shack that barely holds together, but considering the picturesque view that surrounds the hut, one would inquire as to the home's origins.

“There is a legend Sammy told about surrounding this house.” I reach into a basket and grab a piece of bread. I break it in half and hand half to Victory. “The legend has it that during slavery, there was a ship that docked on this island. The slaves on the ship had an uprising, but were quickly dealt with; however, one slave managed to escape in the jungle. The owners searched for him for days and couldn't find him. Finally, they had to count their losses and sail on.”

I point to the house. “That is supposedly the house that he built and lived in for the remainder of his days.”

“Wow! Powerful. I'm surprised the hurricanes haven't destroyed it,” Victory says.

“They have, but someone always manages to rebuild it. I guess it serves as a reminder that one can always change their fate.”

“That's a lesson that still teaches us to this day,” Victory says.

“Amen to that,” I say.

“Amen,” Victory says.

Amen indeed. Maybe I can change my fate as well. Become someone different, aspire to a higher calling.

All roads lead to Randall Knott. It's a no-brainer at this point, but before I can make a case for why one of the wealthiest men in the world would kill Pastor Cole, I have to establish a why. Why would Knott want to kill Cole? He has both the money and the influence, but there is one connection that Knott money and power hasn't reached, at least I don't think he has reached her.

Once again, I find myself outside of Elisha's house in spite of the fact that I was just warned by Demetrius to never go over to her place again. Of course, I've never been one to listen to authority, and if a conversation with Elisha can put this whole case to bed, then it's worth the risk. Plus, I have her $2 million check waiting for her.

“I hope you have good news for me,” Elisha says after she opens the door and leaves it open for me to enter.

I close the door behind me to make sure we are alone. Discretion is still key; plus, I am suspicious that my moves are being watched, though I don't know who is watching me.

“You mean this?” I reach into my pocket and reveal an envelope that Pastor Bryant gave me. “Yes, but that's not all I have.”

“Are you leaving, because that would be a great idea?”

I chuckle and wish that all I have to do is deliver a check filled with zeros. But I have another pressing matter to consider.

“I believe you have something to give to me,” I say.

“I'll be right back.” Elisha gets up and goes into her bedroom. Moments later, she comes back with an envelope of her own and hands it to me.

“Tell your preacher friend he needs to be more careful.”

I take a look inside, and sure enough, these are photographs of Pastor Bryant in a precarious situation. “How did you come up with these?”

“My girlfriend was at the party they threw after the first night of the conference. She thought that it would be funny. Not to worry though. I had her send the pictures to my phone, and then delete them out of her phone.”

“And I'm supposed to take your word for it that these are the only pictures floating around?” I ask.

“Why would you not believe me?”

“Your father was murdered, and I have yet to see you shed either a single tear or a concern about your safety. Now, I'm wondering why that is.”

“How do you know that I don't cry?” Elisha asks with all of her feistiness.

“I don't know, but I doubt many know what you do behind closed doors.”

“What I do behind closed doors would make you blush, Preacher.” Elisha smiles and raises one eyebrow.

“I doubt it.” I give her my own raised eyebrow.

“Well, ain't you full of surprises,” she laughs.

“So did any of your father's words of wisdom rub off on you?”

Elisha picks up the check and examines it. She then shakes her head. “Not really. It's hard to listen to a man talk about God who wants your identity kept a secret.”

“Your father obviously wasn't perfect. He was just trying to point you in the direction to someone who is.”

“You're defending him now? You expressed that you didn't care too much for my father. Why the sudden change?”

“We had fundamental differences, as I said before, but nothing malicious. I just couldn't buy into his brand of doctrine.”

“Well, many people shared the same feelings you had toward my father, and more. Some would even send death threats,” Elisha says.

“Death threats? He told you about them?”

A clearer picture is starting to come into view between Pastor Cole and Elisha. I reckon every man needs one woman to be vulnerable to in his life. It might as well be a daughter that the majority of the world doesn't even know about, who just so happens to live on a small island.

“My father believed in never letting your enemies see you bleed. ‘You save your tears and your fears for when you're in private, Elisha.' That's what he used to say.”

Elisha fights back the tears and lets out a smile instead. Even now, she doesn't want to disappoint her father.

“I now know why you haven't cried before me.”

Elisha picks up the check again in disbelief. One minute you are a bastard child that only a few people know about; the next minute you're a millionaire.

“Are you afraid to be walking around with that kind of money?” I ask.

“Like I said, no one is stupid enough to try something.”

“Is it because of your affiliation with the local crime lord?”

Elisha is amused by my statement and knows who I am referring to. I just hope that Demetrius doesn't decide to pay me a visit after this meeting.

“You know a little too much to be a foreigner.”

“You hang around with dangerous men.”

“All men are dangerous, Mr. Dungy, especially a man who fancies himself as a preacher.”

I detect a hint of seduction in Elisha's voice. She certainly was not daddy's little girl. This is why I came over here, because whether Elisha is a major player in this game remains to be seen, but I know that she knows more than she let on.

“I would love to hear this story,” I say.

“It's not a very interesting one. It's just a classic tale of a good girl who's attracted to bad boys.”

“I take it your father didn't approve?”

“My father didn't want to get in a disapproval contest.”

I guess she's right. Pastor Cole has a lot more skeletons in his closet than his apparent daughter. One of those skeletons led to his demise.

“You need to be careful around men like Demetrius. He seems to be very protective of you, and that usually means that he's also controlling.”

Elisha lets out a laugh like I had just made a joke. The arrogance of youth. I can never understand it.

“You laugh, but I bet Demetrius doesn't know about your newfound wealth.”

“Of course not. He and I may have fun, but that doesn't mean I trust him,” Elisha says.

“From what I've seen, Demetrius strikes me as a person who gets what he wants,” I say.

“Demetrius may control a lot of people, but I'm not one of them.”

“Does he know that?”

“You're a lot more fun today.”

“Oh, I'm a blast to be around, but what I'm curious about is what your father had to do with Randall Knott.”

“How would I know?”

“You seem to be pretty good about keeping secrets.”

Elisha leans back on the couch and analyzes the check she just received. She can start a new life anywhere with that money.

“My father told me a lot of things; some things I am even embarrassed to repeat, but about Randall Knott, he didn't tell me anything.”

“He didn't tell you anything at all? Not even on his last visit?” I find that strange.

Elisha tosses the check onto her coffee table as if it was a random bill and not a check worth $2 million.

“He did say how this would be the last time he would come to the conference. He wanted to make other arrangements to see me. But he didn't specify why.”

It's not much, but Elisha's information is enough for me to know that I am at least heading in the right direction. Whatever business dealings Cole had with Knott, they must've fractured during this conference.

“You might want to ask Bishop Jackson,” Elisha says.

“And why would I want to ask Bishop Jackson?”

“Because he and my father were thick as thieves.”

I didn't even know Bishop Jackson is on the island. I didn't see him the other day. More importantly, I didn't even know that Pastor Cole and Bishop Jackson ran together, and I know just about every piece of church news and gossip.

“I thought your father and Pastor Bryant were close, seeing that Pastor Bryant just wrote you a rather large check.”

“On the surface, yes, they were, but when it comes to doing dirt and someone who you can trust, that would be Bishop Jackson. That's who you would want to talk to.”

I now know who the next person is that I will visit. I have to pay Pastor Jackson a visit and break this case wide open. I get up and head toward the door, but I stop right before I open it.

“One last question,” I say.

“Yes, Mr. Preacher Man, what is it?”

“What now? You can go anywhere you want in the world.”

“Do all Americans hate their current lives so much that they have to leave them as soon as they get money?”

“No, but with that money, you do have more options than before.”

Elisha turns her head and appears to stare off into space. My question must have given her a chance to consider things that she has never considered before.

“How's Paris this time of the year?” Elisha asks.

“Cold, but it's still Paris.”

“I'll keep that in mind when I grow tired of the warm weather,” she says.

I smile and shake my head as I leave. If Elisha knows what's best for her, she would book a flight right away because things are about to heat up around here.