When Saint Goes Marching In

by Laveen, Tiana

  Xenia smiled and he pulled her closer.

  “You don’t take anything lying down. You’re strong. You’re honest. You’re my wife and the mother of my babies. You’re dedicated. You’re there when I need you. You always have my back, Xenia. I wouldn’t try to stand in the way of your dreams.”

  “And even though I don’t like this assignment of yours, I know it’s important and I won’t give you any more guilt trips,” she said.

  “I know you worry about me and it makes you upset with me. You think I don’t listen to you or care that you are concerned when I go on assignment, but I do. I think that because of me being gone more in the last few months, you’ve been home realizing that if you make your world bigger again than just the kids and I, you can focus on other things and not be so upset. I understand it. Distraction sometimes is the best medicine so I fully get all the reasons why this is happening. I still want you here when I get home most of the time though. Call it selfish, but I look forward to those early evening love sessions.” Saint smiled wickedly. “You spoiled me. This has been going on for years now and we rarely miss it. I get in the house, I play with the boys, you and I shag, then we eat dinner together as a family. It’s our way,” he laughed.

  Xenia hooted. “You’ve been hanging around George too long,” she teased, “saying words like ‘shag.’ Anyway, yes, you do get me, and everything you said is true. I promise to be here most of the time when you get home.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m still not messin’ up my hair for you though.”

  She pivoted, turned ninety degrees and sauntered off back into the house.

  “You will get wet out here or in there! Doesn’t make much difference to me but you better choose one or I’ll choose for ya!”

  * * *

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “That’s the fifth couple killed, the sixth attacked. This time, he did much worse.”

  James pulled out a folder with three crime scene photographs and passed them around the conference room. Saint watched as all the men viewed the photos; one of the members got sick and had to excuse himself.

  “So, this is what we’re dealing with, folks. We have someone from our IT team watching all of the interracially geared websites, as well as scouting for any strange comments or unusual behavior as we continue to try and track down suspects. This person might be watching ‘hook-ups’ through hacking and following the couples. The police are finally admitting it may be racially motivated, but even though they won’t declare it, they still don’t have any leads.”

  “Is it always a Black woman with a Rainbeau?” Nexus, a quality control engineer asked who had been with the Knights of the Round Table for three years.

  “Yes, always, Nexus. He isn’t targeting any other demographic and all, except one, have been white men. The one that wasn’t, was half white and half Asian, however,” James answered.

  George stood up and straightened his suit jacket. “Knights, Saint and I have, as you are aware, spoken to the Claymans and have done several follow-ups. Saint’s insight is quite useful. It appears that his educational background has come in handy, once again, regarding this matter. Would you care to share what you discovered, Saint?” he invited as he sat back down.

  Saint approached the podium. “Before I do that, I first want to thank all of you for your support regarding the center in Illinois. The doors will open in approximately a month and a half. It is funded for two solid years. That is quite an achievement.” Everyone clapped. “It’s called ‘Rainbeau Haven,’ though we do also obviously keep the door open for Queens as well to come in for counseling.” Saint cleared his throat. “A couple of months ago, George and I went out to Kansas City, well actually the outskirts to a small town that I’m sure none of you have heard of, Kensington, to meet the Claymans. We conducted the interview and kept tabs on them as well as the updates from the other cases. I went out again, a couple of weeks ago, to conduct some additional research on my own. Here is what we’ve figured out.”

  He paused for effect and continued. “The perpetrator works alone. He is a white male between twenty-one and thirty-five years of age. He has a mental and emotional disconnect with reality and the feelings of others. He’s a cigarette smoker. Mrs. Clayman confirmed that his breath was laden with the odor of such. He blends into the crowd well and doesn’t speak a lot. He is a loner and has an obsession with Black women, from a sexual sadist viewpoint. He is paranoid and now he is cocky. He has gotten away with it so much thus far; he is bound to get sloppy. His arrogance will trip him. All of the Black women he targeted only have their race in common. They all look different. Some are thin, some are overweight. Some are young, some are old. Their partners, their Rainbeaus, all looked different as well. He has become increasingly more violent over time. He is killing with a knife now. Knives are personal. You have to get in there close, in the trenches. He is probably looking at them in their face when he does it. He is getting gratification. It isn’t uncommon for sexual deviants to also enjoy stabbing with knives, especially if they have problems getting an erection to fulfill an actual rape. The knife takes the place of their penis, giving them the gratification of penetration and also murdering, simultaneously. He also has one documented case now of necrophilia.”

  Everyone in the room sighed in disgust. Saint nodded in understanding and paused.

  “What exactly is he doing?” Nexus asked as he jotted down notes. “I mean, I know that some of us may not want all the gory details, but I think it would help us understand really the magnitude of what we’re dealing with.”

  “The coroner stated that this latest victim, Simone Fitzgerald, twenty-three years of age, was sodomized post-mortem as well as while she was alive. So gentlemen, we have a real sick man on our hands and something needs to be done before he does this again. Right now, he is batting at about one double homicide every two months, give or take. His longest stretch was four months and that may coincide with him possibly trying to stop but probably something was going on in his personal or professional life that had to take top billing. He is most likely single with no children and also came from a family where he felt ignored or neglected.”

  “How are we going to stop him?” Nexus asked. “That’s the million dollar question, Saint.”

  “Well, he does have a pattern, believe it or not. Right off the bat these crimes seem sporadic, but they aren’t. I already mentioned his time frame and we are coming upon him striking again, actually, in the next few weeks. It’s a compulsion at this point and he won’t be able to stop himself. All of the victims were in their homes. All of them answered the door and we are assuming he used the same line on them, about his car breaking down and needing a phone. He is not always parked close to the houses he is going into. We understood that from the Clayman investigation.”

  “Tell them your suspect, Saint,” George said as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.”

  “We believe the murderer may know one of the victims personally. Mr. Clayman works at an auto parts factory. There is a man there by the name of Stanley Pernell who fits the profile but I need to gather more information before I say anything conclusively so please do not let any of this information leave this room.”

  James stood up and stood next to Saint. “OK, we need to wrap this up, boys. I’m sure Saint and George will keep us updated.”

  Saint shook James’ hand and sat back down. As James wrapped up some last minute scheduling discussions, George leaned over to Saint.

  “I know that you know more, but I’m just going to let you do your job. Just as our organization is secret, so is whatever happens to Stanley. Do you understand me?” George’s eyes narrowed as he looked intensely at Saint.

  “What are you saying, George?” Saint asked, shocked at George’s implication.

  “I’m saying if we confirm that he is in fact doing this, the prisons will give him a cushy life in which he is allowed three hots and a cot. He will be in protected segregation and allowed to continue drawing breath.
We both know what will happen here because his victims are Queens and the men that love them are Rainbeaus. No one gives a damn about us! I want justice. Do you remember Iris’s face? That could have been your Queen or mine! Look at what he did to that poor girl in the photo tonight. Whoever it is, we will get him and turn him inside out!” George’s tone gained in pitch as he spat the last words.

  “George, what is the problem?” James asked, sounding slightly annoyed.

  “I was simply having a conversation with Saint about another matter. I apologize for interrupting you, James.”

  James turned away and continued to talk. George looked back at Saint and winked.

  * * *

  “Are you sure you aren’t mad?” Xenia asked as she ran her fingers through the light splattering of Saint’s soft, dark chest hair. He held her tightly under the violet silk sheets as the glare from the television bathed them in soft, white light in the dim room.

  “Why would I be mad?” he asked tenderly as he looked down at her. “Baby, this is what you want so whatever you want, as long as it makes you happy and doesn’t hurt you or us, I want it too.”

  Xenia smiled and sighed, They lie spoon fashion, both coming down from the high of the lovemaking session that had ended ten minutes prior. “I’m really excited, Saint,” she said as she looked over at the evening news.

  “You should be. This award is important. You earned it. As with everything you do, it’s successful. I’m so glad your blog column has expanded and that you’re now guest hosting. Soon, you’ll be running the show all by yourself.” Saint kissed her forehead.

  “I know. I just want to wait until Dakarai is five to go back full time. That way, I’ll know that I did what I was supposed to do before I start working full time again. He’ll be in school.”

  Saint smiled and nodded. “Thank you for that. I’ve always been so happy that you didn’t see me as chauvinistic because I wanted you to stay at home with the boys. I only said a year for each and you’ve done even better. I appreciate that. During those formative years, that parental bond is important, especially with the mother.”

  Xenia smiled with understanding, knowing he was talking about his own mother as well. She turned in his arms and kissed him. Saint kissed her back, embracing her tightly as he moved around slowly under the sheets. Saint wrapped his legs around Xenia’s, scooted closer to the headboard until he was soon comfortably lying on top of her. He lovingly kissed the side of her neck, rubbed his bottom lip leisurely up and down it. Xenia moaned as she slid her hands around his back.

  “Round three?” Xenia asked, her eyes wide and full of joy.

  “Yeah, round three and we can take round four on the floor…” Saint whispered back as he cradled her tightly in his arms.

  * * *

  “I’m not sure,” George said, his voice cracking. “It happened all of a sudden.”

  “Why in the fuck didn’t someone tell me about this…this morning? I just saw him!” Saint yelled angrily into the phone.

  George fell silent for a few moments, then spoke in an even tone. “Saint, we’re all upset about this. I need you to calm down.”

  “Don’t tell me to fucking calm down! He’s been in the hospital for four hours and no one said shit to me. If I hadn’t called the office tonight and asked his receptionist where the hell he was, I still wouldn’t have known!”

  Saint disconnected the call as he pulled up to the hospital parking lot.

  He quickly got out of his Lamborghini and walked briskly towards the hospital entrance. He waited impatiently as the automatic hospital doors opened and then barreled towards the information desk.

  “I need James Kellser’s room,” Saint barked.

  “Who are you?” the blond-haired woman with thick glasses asked with raised eyebrows.

  “What the fuck does it matter who I am? Where the hell is he?”

  “I will not be spoken to like that, sir! We need to know who you are because only family can see him.”

  “He’s my father,” Saint said, believing the answer to the depths of his being.

  “OK, hold on.” The woman turned to her computer and looked up the information. “He is in room 443. Take the elevator to the fourth floor.”

  Before she was finished answering, Saint was standing in front of the elevator pushing the up button frantically. Impatiently, he looked around for the stairs, opened the door and raced up the steps as if he were on fire.

  Saint reached the room and opened the door wide open without knocking. The two nurses inside turned to him and gasped. Saint’s angry energy and demeanor devoured them in one second. He made the room suddenly hot as he stood with a scowl on his face.

  “Um, you’re here to see Mr. Kessler?” one of them asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, how is he?”

  Saint closed the door behind him, toning himself down as he picked up on their fear.

  “Well, he’s stable. He’s resting now but he may be up for talking. We’ll leave you two alone. We’ll be back in about an hour to check on him,” one nurse said before they both exited the room.

  Saint walked cautiously over to James and quietly held his hand. He stared at him, etching each wrinkle and smile line into his memory.

  Can I heal him? Saint thought to himself as he continued to survey James’ body.

  James’ eyes flew open then, as if someone had splashed him with cold water. Saint sat down next to him, still gripping his hand tightly.

  Why didn’t I know he was ill? Why can I pick up some people and others I can’t?

  “Hello there, son.” James spoke weakly and smiled proudly, despite the tubes that ran out of his nose. “I guess I won’t be coming to your barbeque after all this weekend,” he chuckled.

  “James, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well?” Saint asked, disappointed.

  “If you knew I was sick, Saint, you would’ve been distracted. I know you well. You would have tried to help take care of me because you can’t seem to help yourself. I’ve watched you over the years with your wife and children. If one of them even has a sniffle, you are off and running. I knew you’d do the same thing to me. You care too much.” James smiled.

  Saint looked at the white chest hair bellowing out of James’ gown and desperately wanted to slide his hand down across his heart. The temptation was almost too great to ignore.

  “So, I’ve got a bad ticker, basically. I’ve known about it for years, Saint. I suppose it just caught up with me. The stress from work on Capitol Hill, as well as here at home, is taking its toll. I just want to enjoy the little bit of time I have left with my Queen. You are truly my son, to me, you and my wife are my family. Now, I want you to listen to me. I’ve left just about everything to Valerie, but I want you to have something special. She knows about it and she will give it to you when the time comes.”

  “James, please don’t speak that way. You’re going to be OK.”

  “Saint, you and I both know I don’t have a lot of time and you know what, son? I’m OK with that. Here is what I’m going to do. I’m going to keep working, only keep shorter hours and I need you to…” James coughed into his hand. “I need you to think about something important. George told me he let you know. I wished he hadn’t.”

  “I already knew. He called me after I was already on my way.”

  James shook his head. “No, not about me being in here. I told him to be quiet until we could tell you together but I want you to take my place. Don’t worry about not being good enough. I know you can do it, Saint. I’ve been grooming you for this since your first conference. Your dynamism, dedication, and astuteness will take the world by storm, time and again, and this is the right move. It’s time! As far as I’m concerned, you still have a little time to think about it but don’t take too long. What is your hesitation about? Be honest with me, Saint.”

  “My family, Xenia, is already pissed about all the time I spend at work. This will be even worse. I want to do it, Lord knows I do, but I can’t
hurt her like that,” Saint confessed. “I already don’t spend enough time with them, I feel guilty as it is.”

  James nodded. “You know what? That’s the beauty of being in my shoes, Saint. You can set your own hours and delegate! You’d be working less than you do now, young man. What George told you was the truth. Don’t you think I thought about all of that? I would never take you further away from your Queen. You have two beautiful children who need you,” James explained. “I need to know your decision as soon as possible but I want you to think about it again before you commit or decline. You need some final training that only I can provide.”

  Saint nodded in understanding.

  “Now, I want you go back home to your beautiful Xenia and make me another grandchild, preferably a little girl this time,” James teased.

  “No, I want to stay right here,” Saint said, misty eyed as he glared at James.

  “No, Saint. Now I mean it. There is nothing you can do by staying here.” James coughed again, this time into the cradle of his arm.

  Yes I can.

  “Now, you’re the same man who just told me how important your family is to you so that means that you need to go home to them, Saint,” James said sternly. “Valerie will be here shortly. She left to pick me up some food that I’m not supposed to have.” James laughed.

  Saint smiled and tightened his hold on James’ hand.

  James waved him off. “Go on now.”

  Saint stood up and slowly let go of his hand.

  “I’ll be back tomorrow,” Saint said as he walked towards the door.

  James nodded. “I know you will. Something inside you tells you that you have no choice.”

  * * *

  “Saint, are you sure you still want to come?” Xenia asked worriedly as she put on her pearldrop earrings. She looked at herself in the mirror then reapplied her lipstick.