I turned to Salvador. “Thank you for relaxing on the kids.”
“We’re not relaxing, Ms. Crawford. We don’t think we need them to prove our case,” Francine said.
I wished Mom brought that tea tray back in here, so I could smack this lady one good time. Girlfriend hadn’t eaten any of Mom’s cookies or my pie. Her sourpuss attitude needed some sweetness. I wanted to kick her out of my house. God, help me be better.
I looked her in the eye and smiled at her like any Georgia Peach would. “Whatever the reason, I’m very thankful, Detective.”
The police officers came down the stairs and met us in the living room. One handed Salvador two clear plastic bags labeled EVIDENCE. I rolled my eyes. The bags had the clothes the children wore yesterday. Unbelievable.
Mom stepped into the room. “What the . . . Oh, so when my grandkids come home and wonder where their clothes are, what appropriate answer should I give them?”
“Today would be a good time to take them on a Grandma shopping spree,” Dixon said.
“What did you say?” Mom walked toward Detective Dixon.
I stood up and jumped in front of her. “I hate to say this, but y’all have outworn your welcome. Let me show you to the door.”
My phone rang twice, which meant a text message was coming in. I peeked at it, then swallowed a squeal. Big Tiger calling.
“Mom, I need to take this call in my office,” I said. “Please escort our guests to the door and be nice.”
“You don’t have to ask me twice. I’ll show them what real nice is.” Mom sashayed past me toward Salvador and Francine.
“Goodbye, Evangeline,” Salvador said.
I waved one hand in the air, then closed my office door and dialed Big Tiger back.
Big Tiger grew up with Ava and me when we lived in East Lake. We lived near St. Phillip AME Church, a quieter area than his. He lived in the East Lake Meadows projects and got himself caught up in the dope game until the late, great Hosea Williams helped him find Jesus. Rumor around town was that he had found the devil, too. Now he was one of the biggest and shadiest bail bondsmen in Dekalb County, and he paid me well. I didn’t trust him any farther than I could throw him. But I knew he could get Ava out. Plus, he once had a crush on me. From the giggle in his voice, he still kept that crush flaming.
“How much is the bail?”
“Don’t know,” he said.
“Why don’t you know?”
“She didn’t get into the rotation to see the judge this morning for her prelim.”
I felt defeated and began to cry. “So tomorrow. She’ll be ready?”
“Check with your boy, Roger Willis. I had to track that joker down. Angel Soft, I was ready to pop Avalyn out of there when he finally called me back. He didn’t sound good. So I don’t know about Ava getting out anytime soon.”
“What? Why don’t you think so?”
“You know full well why, girl. This is a capital murder case. Ava and Devon weren’t just any couple. They money. Holy money with an angel jet on top. She could fly right out of here. Heaven bound, honey. Give me one good reason why any judge would grant her bail?”
“She didn’t do it.”
“Did she tell you that?”
I gulped. “She didn’t have to.”
“After the way you two fell out, I’m surprised she left her kids with you.”
“Thanks, Big Tiger. I don’t know what I would do without your honesty.”
“I’m just keeping it real. Your sister disowned you. And we all know Greater Atlanta Faith’s got some secrets. That was a dumb move she did with you.”
“Well, that is the past.”
“You think, because I heard something else.”
My old case. My heart raced. “Like what?”
“You know I don’t talk particulars over the cell, mademoiselle, my Belle.”
I huffed. Big Tiger was talking to me in one of his ridiculous codes. Didn’t make sense to live on the straight and narrow when you act like you’re an old gangster. I was too old and out of touch to know the latest phrases.
“My bad, Big Tiger. I forgot.” I paused. “So what do I need to do to get her on the docket for tomorrow?”
“Pray.”
“I’m prayed out. Can we come up with something else?”
“Like your grandma always said, where two are together.” He chuckled. “We’ll meet before you visit Ava.”
“So I can visit her?”
“Yep, she has an orange suit now. Baby girl has a visitor’s list, a cell, and a roommate now. Want ’em?”
“Gladly.” My heart fell. “One more thing.”
“Yep?”
“I need you to send a D-boy to my house. Tonight.”
“Are you having a cash-flow problem, because I can help you out with the bail.”
“No, are you crazy?” I rolled my eyes. Big Tiger was leaning too far on the other side of the fence if he thought I would ever cross that line. “I just need you to send me a normal, clean kid to pick up some files to deliver to my storage place.”
“House crowded?”
“Too crowded?”
“I have a proposition for you.”
I smirked. “I bet you do, but I have some more calls to make.”
“Look, Angel. I need to tell you something, but don’t tell Ava you heard it from me.”
“And what is that?”
“I heard that Devon had a mistress.”
“Yeah, and so does every male minister in the world. That rumor is as old as Christ and Mary Magdalene.”
“This girl was one of Ava’s armor bearers.”
“Come again?” This was the second time I had heard that phrase.
“One of her assistants. I thought you did op-ed on church investigations. You know what I’m talking about.”
“I just learned what an armor bearer is today. I don’t remember when Daddy was alive he used the term in that way.”
“True. It has been a while for you, and the church has changed. But don’t worry about what an armor bearer is. You need to find out where this one went and if the rumor is true.”
“Wait a minute. Why are you talking about this to me on the phone?”
He chuckled. “I wouldn’t be telling you this if the police didn’t already know. Ask Detective Tinsley. He knows about it.”
I took a slow breath. “You know what, Big Tiger? Scratch the duffel bag boy request. I have a better place for my things, but I will need something else from you later.”
“You know I got you, Angel Soft.”
“I hope that’s a good thing.” I shook my head. “I’m going to bed early or late, if you don’t count that I hadn’t slept since Tuesday.”
“You do that. ’Cause tomorrow will be a long one.”
“Not long enough if Ava isn’t released.”
19
Saturday, 7:00 AM
Being a good investigator not only required analytical skill, but the ability to smell a good lie. I’m a pro at both, and Big Tiger’s offer had my nose itching. I sat up in bed and thought about what he said some more.
Clearly, Ava held back something important about what happened Thursday night, even Big Tiger saw that. Had Devon’s murder been a crime of passion, she would have been more than vocal about it. Her behavior made me believe that she was covering something up, but what? I decided to mind dump all the information I had so far before the frenzied world outside my bedroom made me forget. The kids would be waking soon and I hadn’t figured out what to say about my absent twin.
If only Ava cooperated with me, then at least I would have a direction to take. I checked my cell on my nightstand. Perhaps I could get Roger Willis to talk to her, make her understand that unless she shared her secret with someone, she was as good as convicted. I texted him my request.
So far I’d come up with little. Someone close to Ava and Devon had to know about Big Tiger’s mistress rumor or why Ava had planned to leave Devon, if that were the case.
Terry, the bodyguard, said she was leaving him, but that belief was based on Devon’s statement. Or was it? I needed a more solid account. Elvis. He definitely had to know about this armor bearer person, but would he admit it?
Elvis and I had chatted last night. I wanted him to bring dinner over tonight since Mom was bringing our new stepdad over, and he had agreed to help learn more about Ava’s case. Elvis invited me to stop by his restaurant today after I hopefully visited Ava, to look at his menu. Before I saw them both, I reminded myself to stop by Big Tiger’s. I knew if we sat kneecaps to kneecaps, he would tell me some other things that he wouldn’t dare express over the phone. I just hoped they weren’t too damaging. The toll of this makeshift investigation not only made me feel guilty, it made me fear to think. What if Ava did kill Devon? Could she have done it? I didn’t want to be in the position to believe that could happen. I decided to see Big Tiger before Ava.
I still didn’t feel completely awake, so I lay in bed a little longer with my pad and pen in hand, of course. I tried to recall the events of the last two days, then dozed off. The chirp from my cell phone woke me up. I read the caller ID. It was Willis. A surge of energy zapped me straight up.
“Did Ava add me to her visitor list?” I asked.
“Yes, your sister wants to see you.”
I dropped the phone.
“Oh no!” I gasped, then reached to the floor to pick it up, then placed the phone to my ear. “Roger, are you still there?”
“Yes . . .” He cleared his throat. “I wondered if something happened to you. Everything okay over there?”
“It depends on whether Ava’s wanting to see me also means that she has been charged for Devon’s murder or that she’s in custody with you?”
“I’m sorry, Angel. She refused to answer any questions, including mine.”
I’m too late. I began to cry. I wiped my eyes with my hands.
“So how do you know she wants to see me?” I sniffled.
“Because you’re the only other name she wrote down on her visitation log.”
“And who was the other?”
“Your pastor boyfriend, Justus.”
“He’s not my boyfriend.” I sighed. “I’ll get down there as soon as I can,” I promised, looking around the room for something clean to wear. I hadn’t washed clothes in a while. Before I could sort out the day’s clothes, my phone rang again. I leaned toward my nightstand and read the caller ID box. It was Justus. God, thank you.
“Justus Morgan calling in, reporting for duty, ma’am. What can I do for you this morning? I have the whole day free,” he said.
“I had forgotten, but I’m glad you didn’t. There are so many things we need to do.”
“Like?”
“I know this sounds cornball, but the first thing I need is a good breakfast. I dreamt of your pancakes last night . . .”
“Mission accomplished. I was thinking the same thing,” he said.
My doorbell rang.
“Don’t tell me you’re standing outside my door.”
“Well, then, how about . . .” He paused. “I’m carrying a basket of fresh flapjacks, red-hot sausage links, and a bottle of sugar cane syrup in my arms while I stand on your porch. By the way, the cane syrup is a hometown favorite for you, right?”
My stomach applauded with a large growl. I rubbed my tummy. “I’m on my way down.”
After the family, Justus, and I stuffed ourselves with more pancakes, he and I stole away to my private office. I wanted to talk with him about my upcoming visit to see Ava. I hoped he could come with me. Perhaps she would tell him why she doesn’t want my help, since he was a minister.
My private office wasn’t inside my home, but stood behind it. Our house came with a cute guest bungalow in the back. The previous owner’s bachelor son lived in it before he inherited this home from his parents four years ago. Apparently, the bungalow was his parents’ first home; then they made the home we live in shortly before their deaths when this area became a subdivision. He sold me the home after he married some burlesque dancer he met in Las Vegas with a strict stipulation that he would never share with me or anyone I knew the details of his bachelorhood in that bungalow. Yet, I was a bit curious of what foolishness happened back here.
I had the bungalow renovated with some of the money from my severance package from the Sentinel. It now had a secured weapons room, a sparring room, my cased antique weaponry collection in the foyer, and a property surveillance station where the dining room was, definitely not cute or open for boom-boom room performances anymore. But I did keep the stripper pole.
My best friend, Charlie, said it was great for exercise . . . which reminded me I needed to call her. She would not believe what has happened the one week of the year she was out of town. Then again, with my life, she might not be surprised at all. But Justus walking beside me in my backyard toward my inner sanctum would turn her world on its axis. No one came back here, not even her.
See, this was my spot. What I loved the most about it was that it was quiet here and not too far away from the kids. Besides, I could see everyone’s room from here except Whitney’s. She had more privacy than me, to some extent, but that’s a perk for being single, parentless, and our little spoiled sister, I guess.
I led Justus past my garden. The office was on the other side.
He stopped short of the tomato patch and knelt down. “Is that a vegetable garden?” He touched the leaves.
I nodded. “It’s my idea of sustainable living short of a chicken coop and an outhouse, but I do have a well, no prying pump, though, and no water in there either. But I’ve been thinking about dropping a pond back here to help with the irrigation for these tomatoes. Maybe put some bass and perch out there, so I can teach Bella how to fish.”
He got on all fours, then frowned. “Are those disposable diapers in there?”
“Yes, they keep the soil moist so that I can grow bigger tomatoes.”
He chuckled. “Are you serious?”
“I’m the daughter of a country preacher, Justus. I’m very serious. The price of tomatoes makes it very serious. Why?”
He squinted at me, then looked around my backyard. “Angel, you’re so interesting. Every day it’s something new about you that makes me wonder.”
“Wonder about what?”
“Why your backyard is so much larger than mine.” He stood up, brushed the dirt off his knees, and came to where I was standing. “And . . . why I haven’t gotten to know you sooner.” He smiled.
“Well, wait until you see what’s inside my office. You might not feel the same way.”
I placed my “Don’t Ring Unless Your Life Depends on It” door knocker outside before I closed the door behind Justus. If his mouth dropped any lower, he would look like the film poster of Scream 2 mounted behind my desk. The film was shot at Agnes Scott College while I was there. Covering the filming for the Sentinel while I interned there launched my journalism career and helped me discover that I had a fascination with the tongue-in-cheek slasher films and knives. Justus’s shocked expression and heavy sighing as he studied my antique dagger collection made me wonder how he would react once he saw the pole. Did he have the mindset to be my sidekick?
It was dark, always dark in here except for the cabinet lights in the weapons display case, which I liked, but being alone with Too-Hot-to-Be-Holy Morgan, I had to find the light.
The lights came on. I turned around.
Justus stood by my lamp. “What’s up with the knives?”
“I like them and they’re daggers by the way.” I shrugged, then walked passed him toward the blinds. “It still seems dark in here. Usually I have the blinds open, but with the media outside, I’ve had to keep them closed.”
“Why are you changing the subject? What’s wrong, Angel?” he asked.
“Because I can see your mind turning and I don’t want it to get stuck on stupid . . .” I paused. “I’m just tired.”
He stretched out his arms to me. “C
ome here.”
The way he looked at me made me step back.
“What now?” he asked.
“I don’t want to get used to you and me like this.”
“Why not?” He came closer.
“Because of the look of despair in Ava’s eyes. I know what that feels like, and I don’t want to feel that again.” I moved farther away from him and stood on the opposite side of the room, near my hammock. I laid in there, to strategize. “I called you in here because I need to tell you that I spoke with Roger this morning. Ava has added both our names to her visitation list. Visiting hours start soon. I’m going. Do you want to come with?”
“First, tell me about Bella’s father. What happened?”
“You’re not going to judge me?”
He held his hand out. “Have I said anything about the stripper poll?”
“Okay,” I said. I took his hand in mine. “But let’s get going to the jail first.” I left out that I was dropping him off to visit with Ava while I stopped in to see Big Tiger.
20
Saturday, 9:00 AM
DeKalb County Detention Center
I dropped Justus off at the jail, then went to see Big Tiger.
Avondale was a tiny Shakespearean-inspired district nestled inside the city of Decatur. The neighborhood front yards always bloomed with every flowering plant, perhaps the source of the great smell in the air. Houses with wraparound porches and sidewalks wide enough to push a double stroller through waved at you as you drove past. “Come on over and swing a while,” they called out to me. I thought of home.
More historic downtowns in the Atlanta vicinity had begun to mimic what Avondale had always done. My new hometown, Sugar Hill, was one of those cities. I didn’t notice the resemblance until now.
I made another left now onto Covington Walk near the Kensington MARTA train station. Ava and I once rented a townhouse over there. It was nicer then than what I saw now. Bunches of young girls wearing barely-there shorts, tank tops, and so many tatts on their bodies you couldn’t decipher where one ended and another began. Some of them had small children, who clung to the arms of white tee-wearing men, whose pants hung and sagged well past their waists. They all stood there between bits of trash that sanitation services missed or refused to pick up, all gathered in clumps along the curbs. I wondered where the older people were. Had disinvestments pushed them out, or was it the sad reality of what I just witnessed that had broken their hearts, too?
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