I motioned for Tiger to get me a pen and pad. He slid me a yellow pad and a pencil.
“Okay. I’m ready. How do you know Rachel?”
“Charlotte,” she said. “Charlotte Lewis.”
I ended my call and plopped down. “Things just got real interesting.”
Saturday, 10:45 PM
Canoe Restaurant, Vinings, GA
Charlotte Lewis kept a discreet escort service in Sandy Springs until 2004, a year before the city incorporated. As a favor to her for being such a great source, I warned her about an impending investigation that might involve her. Her most loyal client and boyfriend, former Georgia State Senator and the Honorable Judge Telly Milner of Sandy Springs, found her a quiet office in Vinings, ten minutes from Canoe Restaurant, where we were meeting for a late dessert. The restaurant was closing in fifteen minutes, but they obliged me as a small courtesy to Charlotte. I found her in the River Room, sipping Dom Pérignon and watching the Chattahoochee River rolling just outside the window. Her legs were crossed, but her free foot shook.
I sat my phone down on the glass table in front of us and placed my purse over the empty back of the chair across from her. Charlotte didn’t move, except for that foot.
I walked toward the windows and looked outside to get a better view of the river and what had Charlotte so intrigued.
I glanced at her. She was just as perfect as the last time we met. She wore a cream linen pantsuit with matching halter top and gold bangles that showed off her authentic Bermuda tan and the fact that yoga kept women past forty forever young. I also noticed that a dried tear had ruined her makeup on her cheek.
She turned toward me and smiled. “So we’re back where we left off, hmmm?”
“And some . . .” I touched her shoulder. “Charlotte, is this a good time?”
“Any time is a good time when you’re here. Want a drink?” She waved for the waitress to come to the table.
I sat down. “Sure, if you’re treating.”
“I never treat, but Big Daddy always does.”
Didn’t take a wild guess to know who Big Daddy was.
I ordered what Charlotte was drinking and Whiskied Chattahoochee Mud to eat. Bounty hunters and single mothers rarely get called to Canoe’s unless work was involved. So I was going to enjoy myself and indulge in some dark chocolate and Irish crème.
“My condolences to your sister and her kids.” Charlotte’s North Carolinian drawl dripped with sweetness and sadness as she talked. I often wondered why a woman so cultured resorted to her line of work.
I reached for her hands across the table and squeezed them tight. “Thank you.”
I held on to her hand until she looked me in my eyes. “Charlotte, who’s hurting you, and does it have anything to do with my sister?”
She slipped her hands from my grasp and then reached for her napkin on her lap.
“No, why would you ask me that?” She patted the corners of her eyes.
“Because I’ve found out some things that don’t make sense, that somehow lead me to you.”
“Are you . . .” She lowered her arms, cleared her throat, and straightened her back. “Are you suggesting that I’ve something to do with your brother-in-law’s murder, Evangeline?”
“Of course not. You know me better than that.” I picked up my phone, opened a recorded video, and slid it to her. “There’s a girl, a missing pregnant girl, who looks very much like someone I saw before in your old place. Remember?”
Charlotte picked up my phone and reviewed it. She gasped, then nodded. “Rachel, yes, but she’s not one of my girls. She’s literally a good girl, a very good girl.”
“Then who is she?”
Charlotte leaned forward; I leaned even closer.
“My daughter . . .” She looked around. “And Big Daddy’s, too,” she whispered.
I gasped and threw my hands again over my mouth. “Charlotte!”
She sat back. “Angel, bring my daughter and my grandchild back to me. Money is no object. You understand me?”
I nodded. “I need to ask you a few questions in order for me to do that.”
She nodded and dabbed her eyes with her napkin again. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
Sunday, Midnight
And boy did she. Charlotte shared a secret she had been holding close to her heart for twenty-five years. She had a daughter, Rachel Dawn Newton. Newton was Charlotte’s maiden name, and Rachel grew up with Charlotte’s mother and father in Madison, Georgia, until Rachel moved to Atlanta a few years ago. Judge Milner knew about his daughter and helped to support her. Rachel, however, shunned them both once she realized the relationship between Charlotte and Judge Milner. She moved out of Charlotte’s house two years ago, to live with some girlfriends she met at church, and Charlotte hadn’t heard from her since until she called her a few months ago to tell her she was pregnant.
“Did she mention who the father was?” Tiger asked. He lay on his couch and snuggled up to one of his throw pillows.
“No, she didn’t have a clue. Charlotte didn’t know Rachel had a boyfriend.” I rubbed the back of my neck and noted the time. “Meeting Charlotte wasn’t a total waste of time. That mud dessert was really good.”
“Don’t be like that, Angel Soft. We’re closer to the truth than we were before.”
My phone rang. I pulled it from my jeans pant pocket and placed it on my ear. “Hello?”
“Evangeline Crawford, I believe you’ve been looking for me.”
“Who’s this?”
“Rachel Newton, and I’ve been told you want to see me.”
My heart raced. Again, I was at a crossroads. I could cancel Paige’s order and tell Big Tiger I changed my mind. I could call Justus and tell him that he was right about God’s timing and ask him to tag along. Or I could handle this thing right now and not involve anyone else.
I closed my eyes and cradled the phone to my ear. “Tell me where.”
Sunday, Too sleepy to know when . . .
Avondale Estates, GA
The lights were off at the Rogers Mill House when Big Tiger and I arrived. We cancelled Paige’s Dumpster diving order for the armor bearers and Elvis, paid her for her service, and headed out to Avondale Estates. My sixth sense warned me not to come.
If Rachel and I hadn’t just spoken to each other, I would have thought the place was vacant. No porch light on. No carport lights on. No car in the drive, nothing but a dark house on a barely lit, secluded street on the edge of Avondale Estates and Clarkston. This smelled like a setup to me.
It began to rain, pour, actually. Good thing I wore a tracksuit with a hood, but my cute Halle-Do would be done the moment I stepped out of the car. I didn’t want to get out, and by the looks of Big Tiger, he did not either.
“Are you sure this is the place?” he asked.
I nodded. “Just as sure as I have ten fingers.”
“And why are you so sure?”
I put my hood over my head and opened the door. “Cause I once lived here.”
We ran up the stairs as fast we could. I huffed when we reached the lawn. I wasn’t totally drenched, but Big Tiger was. It took him a little longer to get here. I told him one day all that smoking would catch up to him. I rang the doorbell.
No one answered. I leaned toward the door to hear any movement. Nothing. That bothered me.
I turned to Big Tiger. “Don’t count yourself out just yet. You might have to pop this door.”
I turned the knob. The door opened. It creaked when we opened it. We both stepped back. Big Tiger pushed behind me.
“What?” I whispered to him. “Don’t start being protective of me now.”
He put his finger over his mouth and waved his hand under his neck to tell me that for our safety, we needed to be quiet. I nodded and shut up. We didn’t open the door any farther.
My heart raced. What in the world had I gotten myself into now?
I peeked inside and touched the threshold floor panel with my ha
nd. It was soaked. Inside, the house was pitch black and creepy silent except for the creaking door. I felt like a high-school cheerleader walking into a horror flick. I stepped back again and bumped into Big Tiger.
I jumped, he caught me. “Angel, stop.”
I caught my breath and then whispered, “Why don’t you go in first?”
He snickered. “Oh, now you want me to lead? Your timing, Angel Soft . . .”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I want you as the man to lead, please.”
“It’s about time.” He moved in front of me. “Stay back here where you belong.”
I nudged him on his right side. “Watch it.”
Big Tiger peeked through the door like I had just done and walked in. I stood outside holding on to the brick wall as if I could climb it if I needed to. My heart beat so fast, I thought I would choke on it.
A few seconds later, the lights came on.
I sighed. “Big Tiger, is that you?”
Nothing. He didn’t respond, but a thunderous boom from inside vibrated the porch floorboards at the same time a huge lightning bolt rippled through the sky ten counts away from the house. My hands trembled, so I had to kneel down and hold them.
“Big Tiger?” I whispered.
My phone buzzed against my thigh. Before Big Tiger and I arrived, I had put my phone on vibrate mode. The way it felt against my skin made me want to jump out of my skin.
BAM!
An even louder noise, accompanied by shattered glass, pelted the porch like hail. The noise rang through my ear. I dropped my entire body to the floor and threw my hands over my head. I couldn’t hear or see. I reached for my phone. My fingers trembled so bad that when I pulled it out, my hands slipped. The phone fell to the floor and flew across the porch. I reached for it.
BAM!
I scrambled back under the window and did not move. That sound wasn’t thunder. It was the sound of a double-barrel shotgun, a bounty hunter’s nightmare. Was Big Tiger okay? I was too scared to find out.
I heard the phone buzz again. I cringed. Please, don’t let the gunman hear that. I prayed until my nerves calmed down.
I observed the distance from the front porch to Big Tiger’s car. If I ran fast and low, I could get to it. But I couldn’t drive away because I had no keys and I wouldn’t leave Big Tiger. My heart sank. Maybe I could put the car in neutral and coast out the drive. A satellite police station was less than a block away. I hoped they’d heard the shots. But then I remembered Big Tiger had a few rifles in his trunk. My Glock was in my purse. I had to get to them.
The front door swung open. I cowered, then tried to be still as a statue, but my stomach wouldn’t keep quiet.
Then someone grabbed my shoulders. My heart sat in my throat. I couldn’t scream, but I kicked and flared my legs and arms like a wild woman.
“It’s me,” a familiar voice said. “Salvador.”
I stopped fighting and opened my eyes until they focused on his lollipop head.
“Thank goodness you’re here. My friend—” I pointed toward the front door, then tried to scramble off the floor. “He’s inside. Someone inside shot at us. Big Tiger . . .” I panted. “I’m going inside.”
“No, you don’t.” Salvador helped me up. “You don’t need to come inside.”
“Yes, I do. My boss, Mr. Jones, is inside.”
“No, he isn’t.” He looked over my shoulders and tilted his head. “Mr. Jones is behind you.”
I looked. Big Tiger stood behind us. There was a huge gash on his forehead and standing next to him was Ava. She wore that jacked up chiffon dress I wore to Night Candy last week.
“How?” I blinked and stumbled forward. “What are you doing here and when were you released?”
Salvador turned back to me. “Your pastor boyfriend didn’t tell you? Apparently he has higher connections than you.”
I smiled and thought of Justus. He told me to trust him.
“Well, your sister had been in processing all evening, but now she’s going back to the correction center for good.”
“What?” My head began to throb. I was confused. I caught his arm. “Why?”
“For double murder. Wachoothink?”
“What?” I looked around us. Squad cars and ambulances began to line the street. A twinge of déjà vu hit me. I turned back to Salvador. “Who’s dead now?”
“Rachel Newton and her baby are dead.”
I moved past him and looked inside the house. Rachel’s body lay on the floor near the front door along with the handkerchief I gave Ava the night she left the kids with me.
I looked at my sister with so much disappointment and pain. I cried. She just stood there as a uniform handcuffed her. She appeared as stonefaced as she once did when Mama caught her red-handed in Granny’s cookie jar. I wanted to slap her.
Instead, I shook my head and sat on the porch.
“Are you okay, Angel?” Salvador asked.
“No, man.” I sighed. “How did y’all get here so soon?”
“Your pastor, he told me you would be here.”
“What?” I stood up. “How did he know?”
My phone still buzzed on the porch.
Salvador glanced at it. “I think that’s him. He can tell you himself.”
“No, I don’t want to know right now. Can I see my sister before she is processed?” I asked.
Salvador nodded. “Yeah, obviously you two will have a lot to discuss again, but keep it shorter than the last time. You can follow us to the jail again, too, unless you don’t think you’re good enough to drive.”
“And what about Mr. Jones?” I referred to Big Tiger. “What will happen to him?”
“The EMT will transport him to Dekalb Medical for a little stitch work to his face and then he’s free to go.”
“Maybe I should follow him and meet you at the jail later. I’m confused.”
Salvador touched my shoulder. He looked at me, then reached in his coat jacket and pulled out a silk handkerchief. He handed it to me. “It’s over, Angel. I hope you see that now.”
My eyes were so filled with tears I couldn’t see anything. My mind was so flooded with sorrow I couldn’t process a decent thought.
29
Sunday, 2:30 AM
Rachel’s residence, Avondale Estates, GA.
They walked Ava toward yet another police sedan, and I sat back on the steps and dropped my head in my lap. The phone buzzed again. I looked at it, but I didn’t pick it up. The only person I wanted to talk to at that moment was Ava.
I stood up and walked down the steps toward her. She stood near the squad car with her hands folded across her chest. They had taken her cuffs off. We all knew she didn’t plan to run.
Salvador turned toward me. “Two minutes, then you’ll have to read her statement just like everyone else.”
I nodded and waited for him to walk away. I stood in front of her. She didn’t look at me.
I hissed. “Why did you lie to me?”
Ava set her gaze on a button on my shirt or a necklace. Her behavior angered me so bad I wanted to ring her neck.
“Ava, look at me,” I demanded. “Why didn’t you tell me about Rachel?”
She looked up at me. Her eyes seemed older than Mama’s somehow. “How could I?”
“How could you not? Because who’s going to help you now?”
“God will help me, Angel. He’s the only one who can, not me, not you.”
“So why didn’t you ask God to help you kill Devon instead of you doing it yourself?”
Ava sniffled. My heart began to break again at the sound of her crying. Her desperation was too new for me.
“I didn’t kill Devon.” She touched my hand. Her fingers were so soft and trembling. My pulse carried her fear into my heart. “I didn’t kill him or Rachel.”
“It doesn’t matter if the only person who knows that is you.” I turned away from her. “Are you ready to tell me what happened the night Devon died?”
She lowered her he
ad and bowed. “I made a vow to my husband. Telling you would break it.”
I peeled her hand off mine. “Then you deserve what you get.”
Her lip quivered. “Do you really believe that?”
I looked back at her. Her stone exterior had softened considerably now. She quaked as she cried.
“Ava, I don’t know what to believe. I don’t even know who you are.”
“You do. You know you do.” She sobbed.
“I wanted to believe you didn’t do it.”
“I didn’t,” she screamed.
“Why didn’t you go to my house when you were released, then? What were you doing in our old house instead?”
“I don’t know.” It was hard to make out her words now. “I needed to see her.”
“I’m sorry, ladies.” The police officer standing beside us interrupted, then looked at Ava.
She looked at me and followed the officer’s request. Tears streamed down both our faces. “Believe me. I didn’t kill Devon or Rachel,” she said.
“Then answer my question. How did you get here?”
She sniffled. “Mrs. Loretta brought me to Rachel’s.”
I nodded. “So she did know where Rachel lived.”
Ava nodded. She stopped crying, but the sniffling continued. “She helped me place her here.”
“She what? Where is she?”
“No!” she screamed. “Mrs. Loretta had nothing to do with this. She was gone long before you two got here.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You don’t have to, but I will tell you the truth anyway.” Ava sighed. “I had been helping Rachel through her pregnancy. I had hoped . . . I didn’t want her out in public in her state.”
“What state? Carrying Devon’s baby?”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Then why take care of her?”
“Because she was my armor bearer and her predicament was partly my fault.”
“Who’s the father of the baby?”
She lowered her head. “I can’t tell you.”
A Good Excuse To Be Bad Page 24
