Soon After (11 page)

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Authors: Sherryle Kiser Jackson

BOOK: Soon After
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Chapter 10
Hope Not Dope
Curiosity got the best of Willie Green as he found himself steering his car right past the turn to Pleasant Harvest and into the neighborhood of his former church. He had gone to a D.C. hospital to pray with a member that was having an early morning procedure and couldn't resist seeing again the ruin that was the Harvest Baptist Church. The last time he was there fire and rescue crews were on the scene, and he felt like a loved one standing helplessly by as emergency workers attempted to revive a family member. He was there when they turned off the hoses declaring they had done all they could do. By that time they had taped off the perimeter, but like now, he wanted to cross those borders, touch and examine the place to see if it were really gone.
Willie didn't want to continue to gawk from out front, so he went across the street to get a cup of coffee from the convenience store. He expected to see Chief Rich probing around and figured he'd hang out while he drank his coffee to see if there was any activity. He greeted one of the two Haitian brothers who owned the place and prepared his coffee.
“You see what has become of your house of worship,” the man said, following Willie to the end of the counter where the coffee condiments were.
“
Vous ont été maudits,
” came the native tongue of the eldest brother, apparently taking refuge in a low seat behind the counter.
“Brother said the place was cursed,” the youngest translated.
“Tell Brother, I haven't been away that long. He knows I don't believe his voodoo myths.” Willie remembered getting along with all the residents and proprietors of the neighborhood while he was pastor. He and the Brothers Jacques often talked about ways to improve security on Lincoln Avenue, but often had to part ways when they spoke of their superstitious beliefs.
“
N'en faire qu'à sa tête,
” The eldest brother used French derivative to communicate with his sibling, but more so to have a private conversation without offending his customers rather than out of a lack of English proficiency.
The brothers shared a laughed. “The priestess had her way and left everyone with this great mystery. Brother knew she was mixing up trouble, but he didn't want to anger her,” the youngest said in all sincerity.
Willie slowly drifted away from the conversation thinking that the notion of a voodoo priestess casting a spell on the church was pretty farfetched even for them.
But, who could the church have angered,
Willie thought, still feeling very much a part of the Harvest family. He found a spot near the window. A woman with long hair rounded the corner to enter the store. He almost didn't recognize her in casual attire with her hair pulled back into a ponytail, but it was Alexis. He moved in the space between a sparse collection of magazines and the ATM machine in the corner to accomplish the difficult task of spying on the very person he was ducking.
He watched her go back and forth between the aisle and the counter, seemingly loading up on a variety of boxed food and snack items as if she were in a grocery store. She held onto an energy drink while the owner bagged up the other items. For a second their eyes met, but surprisingly they both looked away at the same time. They had spotted each other. There was no need to continue the charade that he was browsing the magazines.
“Don't tell my wife. I'm over here snooping at my old church,” Willie admitted as she approached.
“I won't as long as you don't tell Chief Rich from the state fire department that I am here talking to you. I have enough to worry about,” Alexis said.
“Oh, Chief Rich,” said one of the Jacques brothers who apparently held the belief that every conversation held within the store was communal. “Please tell him we need our tape back. We told him we have one camera, one, that faces the opposite street. Still, he took our surveillance tape. The camera doesn't work without tape.”
“We get another tape,” the voice of the eldest coming in stronger now as he stood and looked around.
“But that was a perfectly good tape.”
Willie and Alexis looked at one another and thought it best to continue their conversation outdoors. He took her bag from her as she struggled with the door that favored swinging inward rather than outward.
“So I guess they are still working on the case,” Willie predicted once outside.
“It takes a lot to tear down the lies of church folk,” Alexis murmured.
He looked at her, sure a comment thrown like that would come with some sort of explanation. “So I take it you have your own theory about who did it?”
“No offense, Pastor Willie,” Alexis said, releasing a breath of pure frustration. “Aww, this case is driving me crazy!” She shook the can of her energy drink so much Willie thought she might crush it in her bare hands.
“Calm down, I have full confidence that Chief Rich and his boys will find the arsonist.”
“I want to find them, him, or her,” Alexis whined, “on primetime television.”
“I thought I saw a promo for the second story in your series. I can't imagine how you've managed it.”
“I'm not supposed to be talking to you,” Alexis reminded.
“And I'm not supposed to be talking to you either. So as long as we are not talking about doing another interview, you can tell me. What are you working on besides lunch and dinner too?” Willie said, raising the bag of food he helped carry for her.
“I'm looking for the street preacher, Roy Jones,” she huffed, taking the bag from Willie. “I thought he could use these.”
“Roy Jones?” Willie questioned. He started to ask did she have an appointment to meet with him this morning, but knew that would be silly. The last he had heard, Roy was still homeless and preaching from storefronts. For the past three to five years before Willie left Harvest, it was the church that helped feed Roy, and Willie's personal desire to find him permanent shelter.
“Do you know him, or where he could be?” Alexis panted like a puppy waiting at the foot of his master for the possibility of a treat.
“I know him well, but you do know he's homeless, right? During the course of the day, he could be anywhere. Hopefully, he's going to one of the shelters I hooked him up with at night. That might be your best bet.”
“I'm going to find him if it takes all day. I took the whole day off for this because if this doesn't work, I forfeit my series and I am back on the beat tomorrow.” She was crestfallen at the thought.
“Well, I pray everything works out for you,” Willie said, preparing to excuse himself and go back to church. He wondered if faith or desperation was fueling her quest. “What happened to not doing anymore stories on the church fire?”
“He said stay away from any church
members
. Technically, Roy never went to Harvest Baptist Church, right?”
Willie could tell she was determined and had thought things through. Like a parent, he worried about the unseen dangers. Roy was flighty and unpredictable. Even in his reformed days he seemed to attract unsavory characters. Willie remembered rescuing him from a dealer that was beating on Roy as if he owed him money or at least his devoted patronage.
“I really don't think you should go down there by yourself,” Willie said as if she were about to rappel off a cliff into a mountainous ravine.
“I'm grabbing at straws here, so unless you're offering to be an escort, I've got to, Pastor Willie.”
Willie looked at his watch, up to the sky, and back at her. He sighed. Then he used his hand to gesture for her to lead the way. She tossed the energy drink in the bag and swung it merrily beside her as if his accompaniment was all the pep she needed.
They noticed two tables placed out in front of the church as they started out down Lincoln toward the D.C. line, but didn't tarry. It felt weird walking down the street as if it were absolutely normal for the two of them to be searching for a half-witted homeless man. Willie felt as if he should be trailing a few steps behind her. They didn't want to be caught together by Chief Rich or one of his associates who may view this escapade as interfering with their case. Willie thought, worse than that, he didn't want to be seen by anyone that knew his wife and felt obligated to report back their version of what was going on either.
He owed Vanessa the courtesy of a phone call. He indicated to Alexis to wait, then he walked off to the side to dial the church's number from his cell phone. Luella connected him to Vanessa's office. Vanessa was not too happy to find that he had scheduled the morning away from church. He'd forgotten this was their week of consecration before next week's 50
th
anniversary of the church. She had been preparing an emotional tribute for her father, and demanded he be present to start going over the logistics of the celebration when he returned.
When she asked what he would be doing, he warned, “You don't want to know.” Surprisingly, she left it alone. She knew he was either being a Good Samaritan by helping someone, or involving himself further in the investigations of the Harvest Baptist Church fire. In this case, he was doing both.
Willie was anxious to survey the block and satisfy both their curiosity so he could get on his way. He linked back up with Alexis.
“Roy can be . . . different, eccentric. The last I saw him he was talking about preaching the gospel.”
“Okay, but you sound skeptical.” Alexis pulled out her voice recorder.
“He's been through a lot, drug addiction, homelessness. Time on the streets can take away a man's sensibilities,” Willie offered, as he urged her to conceal the recorder from view.
The landscape of faces changed as they moved farther away from the church and closer to the D.C. line. Willie waved to a few that remembered him as pastor of the church up the street. He asked a few about Roy that confirmed he was a permanent fixture on these streets. More and more they saw faces of people not interested in social interaction as they walked by with hurried gaits, bags, belongings clutched tight, and downward gazes.
They came to the intersection at Division Avenue where all eyes were on them. Apparently this was a block where the attendance was taken and tourists weren't welcome. Willie wondered should they go any farther. Red brick apartment houses separated by narrow alleys dominated the next block. Willie checked his watch, which read five minutes past eleven
A.M.
and decided to conquer another block before giving up. They were almost run over by a rugged young man over dressed in layers and his scrawny sidekick crossing the street in haste. The pair seemed to converge with another non-descript man in front of the same building.
Willie and Alexis both did a double take when they spotted a man in a black knit cap resembling a young Marvin Gaye. He came from the alley beside the building to join the group as if he were the leader of a secret club convening on the corner. Alexis reached for her notepad inside her purse and flipped a few pages as if she had a strong desire to sketch the scene. Willie urged her to keep walking although they both couldn't help but take continued glances at the gathering.
Knit cap tilted his chin in their direction as if to ask who they were. They were in a brief eyeball stand-off with his crew as both sides made sure that the other didn't pose any immediate threat. Willie sighed with relief as the man with the knit cap smirked and waved them off as an unconcern as others gathered. Knit cap did an extended handshake with each of the men and just like that their meeting was over.
“That was—” Alexis said, consulting her notepad.
“Illegal drug distribution,” Willie added, “from the neighborhood dealer-man.” This was the man he kept from beating down Roy. This was also the man he had to continually ask to take his business somewhere other than the footpath beside his church. Why was he still on the street?
“Louis Crenshaw, I interviewed him the day of the fire.” Alexis said, staring at her pad as if it were playing the reel of her memory. “He spoke about a man admonishing people about hell from the church steps. I asked him about it afterward and he gladly gave up Roy's name. I wonder if Chief Rich has gotten to him.”
“Well, it wouldn't be a good idea—” Willie realized he was speaking to Alexis's shadow as she stepped off the curb and proceeded to cross the street. He thanked God, Louis and crew dispersed. Willie could see his knit cap bobbing from side to side with his carefree gait and a few more loaded handshakes as he headed in the direction they had just came from.
Willie chased after Alexis's vigorous pace. He didn't want to call her name and make a scene. He had to jog and finally grabbed her arm as she dead-ended in a mob of people. Willie felt like an out of shape parent trying to keep up with his rebellious teenager.
“Where do you think you are going?” Willie fought to catch his breath. ”There are things street thugs like him don't take too kindly to when conducting their business; police, police informants, and I'm pretty sure the third is nosy reporters.”

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