Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope (29 page)

“But I’d like to take you for a motorcycle trip on Saturday.”

“Where to?” I regained my composure.

“I’m still working out the details, but it would take most of the day.”

I hesitated. It was odd not having to call Mama or Daddy to ask permission. I had to remind myself that I had the authority to make up my own mind.

“Okay. Unless I need to do something for Mrs. Fairmont.”

I quickly told him about her condition, leaving out details about her out-of-body experience. Vince had the right to hear it first.

“That’s good news,” he said. “Just let me know about Saturday.”

I didn’t want to leave. Zach returned his attention to the papers on his desk; when I didn’t move, he looked up.

“Tami, I really need to finish reviewing these documents for Mr.

Appleby within the next thirty minutes.”

“Of course. Things will be a lot more relaxed when the air is rushing past your face on Saturday.”

I backed out of the office, stumbling slightly over my feet, which mirrored how I felt on the inside.

THE CHURCH Jason Paulding attended was in a newer area of town. I made a couple of wrong turns before the large, modern structure came into view. There were several reserved parking spaces near the entrance to the church office. I parked next to an expensive car. It was cool inside the building, and there was thick blue carpet on the floor. While I waited, I picked up a glitzy magazine published by the denomination and flipped through it.

“Good afternoon,” a smooth male voice announced. “I’m Jim Fletchall.”

The minister, a physically fit man in his forties, had blond hair and was wearing a red golf shirt and khaki pants.

“I hope I’m not keeping you from a golf game,” I said.

“My tee time isn’t for another hour. Come into my office.”

I followed him into a room almost as large as Mr. Carpenter’s office. Diplomas hung on the walls, along with photographs I recognized as scenes in Israel. Some were black and white, others in color.

“Thanks for agreeing to meet with me,” I said as I took out a legal pad and a pen. “Mr. Paulding told us that Ramona Dabney called you.”

“Actually she came by the church.”

“You met with her?” I asked, as if it was surprising to see him alive after the encounter.

Reverend Fletchall smiled. “We talked for a moment in the reception area, then came in here. It was an unusual conversation.”

“What did she tell you?”

“She was interested in the photos of Israel and made a few observations.”

“What kind of observations?”

“Comments about why it was right for me to be interested in the land and its people. She even mentioned I should consider studying conversational Hebrew. She had no idea that I’ve been studying the language for over a year through a correspondence course. Then her voice got loud, and she told me someday I’d live in Israel on a part-time basis. No one except my wife knows I’d considered that as a possibility for the future.”

I wanted to ask more questions, but a quick glance at my legal pad reminded me why I’d come.

“What did she tell you about Mr. Paulding?”

“She laid out her version of Jason’s attempt to buy her property on Gillespie Street. I wasn’t familiar with the deal, but I knew there had to be two sides to the story. When she finished, she wanted to know if I would warn Jason that the property had been dedicated to God and couldn’t be used for a secular purpose. She thought that as his pastor, I could dictate his conduct.”

“What did you say?”

“First, I told her I don’t have that level of control over the members of our congregation. Second, I informed her I didn’t agree with her theory about irrevocable dedication of property for religious use.”

“How did she react?”

Reverend Fletchall gestured toward a panoramic photo of Jerusalem.

“She took that picture off the wall and told me Jerusalem be-longed to God, and no man or human government could take it from him. She believes the same applies to Jason Paulding’s efforts to buy her church for a mixed-use commercial/retail development. It was an exegetical stretch, but Reverend Dabney seemed one hundred percent convinced.”

“Did she make any personal accusations against Mr. Paulding? Call him a crook or a thief?”

“Yes, those words were used.”

“Did she allege any specific criminal conduct?”

“I asked for details. At that point she told me I wouldn’t believe the truth. Jason says she’s been slandering him all over town.”

“What did you think about her?”

The minister paused for a moment. “She’s psychotic, psychic, or a prophet. Take your pick.”

“Which would you choose?”

Reverend Fletchall shook his head and smiled. “I don’t want to repeat her mistake and make a judgment about another person I can’t back up. That’s irresponsible. She could be any one of those or a mix of all.”

“Did she tell you about her personal life or background?”

“No, and I didn’t ask. She wasn’t here for a counseling session. What have you found out about her?”

“We’re still checking it out,” I replied, dodging the question. “Would you be willing to sign an affidavit?”

“It depends on what it says.”

“A summary of her comments about Mr. Paulding, not what she said to you personally.”

“Okay, but I’m not sure what’s going to be gained by dragging this woman into court. I can’t tell Jason what to do, but I may suggest that in this situation it would make sense to overlook an offense and go on with life. There’s a proverb that states, ‘Where there is no wood—’”

“‘The fire goes out.’ Proverbs 26:20.”

“You know the verse?”

“Oh yes. I have two brothers and two sisters. We all had to memorize that one.”

I left the church more confused than when I’d arrived. Since deciding to go to law school, I’d role-played hypothetical scenarios that might challenge my convictions and worked out a response in advance. I was prepared for a divorce case without the presence of adultery, a guilty client facing criminal charges, and a witness who refused to tell the truth. But there was no file in my mind for an out-of- control preacher like Sister Dabney.

BACK AT THE OFFICE, I pushed
Paulding v. Dabney
to the side and dived into research about a secured transaction question for a bank trying to repossess equipment from a manufacturing company in financial trouble. Application of the complex rules of priority had an elegant simplicity. It was much simpler than unraveling human motivations. Julie walked in.

“Did you talk to Paulding’s minister?” she asked.

“Yes, more of the same. General characterization of our client as a crook and a thief accompanied by a twist or two about Dabney’s ministry.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing worth explaining.”

“Well, I had a very nontheological discussion with Paulding’s wife.”

“Did Dabney accuse Paulding of cheating on his wife?”

“How did you know?”

“The longer I work on this case, the more I’m beginning to think like Sister Dabney.”

Julie nodded. “That makes perfect sense. Fifty years down the road, and you could be the defendant in a case like this.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Because it’s true. Have you considered this is your chance to look in the mirror and see where your religious fanaticism ends up?”

I started to snap back, then stopped. There might be more similarity between Ramona Dabney and me than I wanted to admit. People with a high level of zeal for God could get off track and into major error in a short amount of time.

“What else did the wife say?” I changed the subject.

“That she cried for three days after receiving the letter. It contained enough known information to make it seem credible. Mary Paulding wasn’t able to discuss it in person with Jason until he returned from a business trip. Fortunately, Dabney’s accusations were all false. Jason had the hotel and phone records to prove it.”

“Hotel and phone records?”

“Yes, to show where he was and who he called on the dates Dabney accused him of coloring outside the lines. We need to throw a count in the complaint for malicious interference with the marital relationship. I know it’s an archaic cause of action, but Mary will make a great witness. She’s a nice lady who would bring a boatload of sincerity into the courtroom. Have a look.”

Julie laid her folder on the table. I didn’t touch it. I’d been around enough of Sister Dabney’s work to avoid summarily dismissing what she’d written.

“And maybe we should verify the alibi, too,” I suggested.

“That’s not our job.”

“Then how do you know the records are legit?”

Julie opened the folder and slid several sheets of paper across the table. There were copies of phone bills and hotel check-in/checkout data.

“Jason Paulding and his cell phone were in Phoenix when Dabney claims he was in Atlanta with his paramour. And the name Dabney gave for the other woman is one of Mary Paulding’s best friends. The friend is happily married with two children and a third on the way. Mary told the woman about the letter, and she was able to prove the impossibility of the accusations.”

The idea of this type of sin, even if it wasn’t true, made me feel sick.

“Okay, Mr. Carpenter can let us know if there’s anything else we should do. Did you hear anything from Brenda Abernathy at the paper?”

“No. If I’d grown the biggest rose in the history of Savannah, it would have died and fallen off the bush before she called me back.” Julie paused. “That gives me an idea. We could contact the paper under pretense and see if we can reach her.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s an old trick used by the investigators who worked for the divorce firm where I clerked during the school year. The investigator would pretend to be someone else in order to find out information.”

“They would lie?”

Julie rolled her eyes. “Just on the surface. Is it wrong to create a diversion in order to find out the truth?”

“Yes.”

“Then cover your ears for a few minutes.”

Julie picked up the phone. I bolted from the library, thinking perhaps my future in the practice of law should be limited to sitting in front of a computer terminal performing research on esoteric issues. Dealing with real people and their problems created too many moral land mines.

21

I RAN INTO VINCE IN THE HALLWAY AND KNOCKED HIM BACKWARD.

“What’s going on?” he asked, putting out his hands to steady both of us. “Why the hurry?”

“Running away from sin.”

“What?”

I told him about Julie.

“If she thinks that’s allowed under the rules of professional con-duct, Julie won’t keep her license very long if she ever becomes a lawyer.”

He stepped toward the library.

“What are you going to do?” I asked.

“Warn her. If this gets back to Mr. Carpenter, she could be fired on the spot. You could get into trouble for not turning her in.”

I’d become so used to sparring with Julie that I’d lost touch with the actual implications of her ideas. Vince brushed past me and opened the library door.

“Hi, Vinny,” Julie said perkily as she returned the phone receiver to its cradle.

“Tami told me you made a call to a newspaper reporter under pretense—”

“Of course not.” Julie sniffed, cutting her eyes toward me. “That would violate more ethical rules than I could cite, including the Ten Commandments. I was kidding.”

“I didn’t think it was funny. Neither did Vince.”

“Tami,”—Vince touched me on the arm—“could I talk to you for a minute?”

As soon as we were alone in the hall, I burst out, “Sometimes she makes me furious. If you hadn’t jerked me out of there, I would have exploded.”

“I know. The steam from your ears was burning the side of my neck.”

“There’s a time and a place for righteous indignation.”

“And this was one of those times?”

“Please, you sound like Zach. He’s always analyzing my feelings and treating me like an insect under a microscope.”

Vince took a step back. “Sorry. I wasn’t trying to tell you what to think or feel.”

“No,” I sighed. “I guess it takes two men to keep me from running off a cliff. I’d wanted to see you anyway. And tell you about Mrs. Fairmont.”

“That’s what Mr. Braddock’s secretary told me.” Vince glanced down the hall. “Let’s go to a conference room.”

There were two small conference rooms on the main floor. One was occupied by a group of lawyers taking a deposition; the other was empty. We went inside and sat down.

“How is she?”

“Better than I’d hoped for, but she had an unusual experience.” I told him about Mrs. Fairmont’s “journey” and hearing the voices of those who prayed for her.

“Before the ambulance arrived, I was praying and crying out so loudly you’d think I believed volume was important to receiving an answer. Maybe that penetrated her consciousness.”

“It all sounds positive to me,” Vince said thoughtfully, “but you’ll have to see how it affects her over time.”

Talking with Vince made me wish I’d been sharing the library all summer with him instead of being imprisoned with Julie.

“And I’ll be praying for you and Julie,” he added. “I don’t think she realizes the impact her words have on you.”

I suspected Julie knew exactly what she was doing.

“How will you pray?” I asked.

He smiled. “Loud enough to be heard.”

I RETURNED TO THE LIBRARY. To be with Zach, and now Vince, when God touched a sick person was a tremendous blessing. People could go years without a hint of a miracle. I’d seen two in two weeks. That was a lot more important than my frustration with Julie.

“Did you have a nice chat with Vinny?” Julie asked.

“Yes,” I answered curtly.

Julie pushed her chair away from the computer terminal.

“Hey, what I did was over-the-top. It was a random thought and I ran with it. I pushed it too far. I’m sorry.”

I searched her eyes for a hint of mockery.

“Okay,” I replied.

“Do you think I should say something to Vinny?”

“Probably.”

“Vinny is a prince. If he could see anyone but you when he opens his eyes, I’d plant myself in the center of his vision. Could you see us as a couple?”