“No problem. I am running a little behind myself. Guess what? I’m sitting here in the parking lot of Faith Temple Church, taking in the scenery. Our beloved Pastor Harris is sitting in his Christian tower for now,” Maxwell proclaimed. “But we know his walls will come tumbling down soon enough.” Maxwell glanced at the top of the church edifice and then let his gaze travel down until it reached the ground. Now the building was etched into his memory. “I’m done here for now, but I’ll definitely be back,” he told Garrett with a tone of certainty.
Garrett responded with, “We’ll have a solid, confirmed case this time, right?”
Maxwell pulled the phone from his ear and stared at it, then shoved it back against his ear with a snarl. “What are you trying to say?”
“Just confirming our objective.”
Maxwell tapped his chin three times with his knuckles. “The objective is to do what we’ve always done. Build an effective case against criminals.” A few seconds of silence controlled the line. Maxwell loosened his tie. “I’ll meet you at my office in an hour.” He pressed down hard on the END button and held it. Finally, after tossing the phone onto the seat next to him, he cranked up the engine and yanked the gearshift into reverse. He pressed on the gas, with his eyes aimed at the church in front of him.
“Stop. Stop. Stop the car.” A voice behind him yelled loudly and forcefully.
He slammed his foot on the brakes, and the car jerked as the tires screeched. In the rearview mirror, he saw a woman scooping a small child up into her arms. Maxwell was out of the car in seconds and standing in front of the woman. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see him. Is he hurt?”
The woman examined the little boy, who was now crying. She nestled him to her and patted his back. “What’s wrong with you? Why would you just blast into reverse like that? This is a parking lot, not an expressway.”
With his hand on his chest, Maxwell pleaded, “I’m so sorry. It was a mistake. I was . . .”
The woman’s words sliced into his apology like a sharp sword. “Yeah, well, your mistake could have killed my son. Pay attention to what you’re doing.”
He watched the woman walk away with her son still nestled in her arms. His cries were fading into whimpers. Maxwell stood there, kicking the pebbles on the ground. That could have been his nephew whom someone had almost backed over, the one he hadn’t seen in many months. He reflected on how a mistake could change a person’s whole life and someone else’s as well. He watched the woman until she and the little boy got into a minivan and drove away. The confident attorney who was feared in the courtroom swallowed hard and released a sigh of relief.
Maxwell heard ringing coming from inside his car. He moved to the car door that was standing wide open and slid into the driver’s seat. As he reached for the ringing phone, his body collapsed against the driver’s seat. It was his mother, but he wasn’t in the mood to argue. She’d have to wait for a better time. He glanced at his clock on the dash. He’d have to drive faster to make his meeting with Garrett.
He pulled the gearshift into reverse and cautiously backed out of the parking stall. Time and persistence had a way of unveiling the truth. Maxwell aimed to be front and center, leading the way.
Chapter 18
Between speeding and barreling through two yellow traffic lights that had turned red, Maxwell was sitting behind his desk in record time. Scribbling notes on a legal pad, listing questions, and plotting a timeline, he prepared for his meeting with Garrett. His phone rang, and it was his mother again. He wanted to ignore her, given that Garrett would be arriving shortly, but what if his nephew, Tyree, was in trouble? The mere possibility of such a situation compelled him to take the call.
“Maxwell speaking.” Once he confirmed that it was his mother on the line, his concern was evident in his voice. “Is Tyree okay?”
“Perfectly fine.”
Maxwell was relieved and equally motivated to get off the phone. “What do you need, Mom?”
“I’ve been trying to reach you, but I haven’t been able to get through. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Just busy.”
“You’re always too busy for your family. Sometimes I feel like I have one child, when I gave birth to two.”
“Mom, it’s not that simple, but I can’t get into that with you today,” he said, glimpsing at the wall clock.
“I’m calling because your father is feeling a little stronger. The pacemaker is helping, but his health is still poor. None of us know how long we’re going to be here.” Her voice cracked.
Maxwell acknowledged her sentiments, and there was a part of him that actually wanted to comfort her, but it was way too risky. If he expressed too much concern, she’d mistake it for reconciliation, which couldn’t be farther from the truth.
“Maybe you can come to Delaware for a visit. I’ll whip up a bite to eat, and you can see your nephew. You know how much he loves you.”
Her proposal was met with complete silence. His attention darted to the second drawer on the left side of his desk. He tugged at the drawer. Good. It was still locked.
“What do you think? Paul, are you still there?”
No sense correcting her. After all these years, she still refused to call him Maxwell. “I can’t get away right now. I’m working on a case that requires most of my time.” He sifted through the first few pages of the legal pad he’d been writing on. “Tell Tyree I said hello.”
“Why not tell him in person yourself? He needs a strong male role model in his life. He needs someone to roughhouse with, you know, someone to play football and basketball with him, like your dad did with you. Poor child barely remembers his father. Tyree was just a baby when his father was killed in that car accident.”
Maxwell listened and mostly agreed but couldn’t afford to continue the conversation. “I’ll give him a call.”
“You can make a difference in his life.”
He squeezed his eyelids shut tight and dropped back in his chair, bumping against the headrest. He would have been better off having not answered her call. The load she was heaping on him was not what he needed.
His assistant’s voice burst through the intercom. “Mr. Montgomery, there are reporters here, asking to interview you.”
He stretched the phone an arm’s length away and covered the phone’s mouthpiece. “Interview me? Interview me about what?”
“Deacon Steve Burton.”
Maxwell spun his chair around and faced the wall behind his desk. With his teeth pressing on his lip, he shook his head.
“Paul, what’s going on? Did you hear what I said?”
He put the phone to his ear again. “Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ve got stuff happening around me. I’ve got to hang up.” He ended the call before his mother could say good-bye, and swung his chair around. His eyes shot from the intercom to the door of his office.
“What do you want me to do? Two more reporters just showed up,” his assistant said over the intercom.
He picked up a pen and pressed the point of it into the legal pad sitting in front of him. Why was this death a leading story for the media? The man was dead. Why was he being resurrected? Maxwell slammed the heel of his hand into his forehead.
The intercom sounded. “Do you want me to have security escort the reporters out?”
As much as he detested the intrusion, Maxwell refused to run and hide from anyone, least of all bloodthirsty reporters. “No, don’t do that. I’ll be right out.”
Prepared to handle whatever awaited him on the other side of the door, he rolled down his shirtsleeves and reinstated his cuff links. He slid on his suit jacket and buttoned it. Seconds later, he opened his office door and took four steps before several reporters armed with microphones had him sequestered. Instantly, Maxwell was under attack, with questions being hurled at him while the flashing lights of cameras blinded him. He caught a partial glimpse of Garrett leaning against the back wall in the reception area.
A female reporter stepped so close that Maxw
ell could smell the soft scent of her perfume. It was then that she launched a bomb that was heard above all the other reporters’ questions. “Mr. Montgomery, do you feel guilty about Deacon Burton’s murder?”
“Guilty? Why would I feel guilty? I didn’t stab him.” His focus briefly darted to Garrett and then returned to the reporter.
“Former members of Greater Metropolitan Church and the community believe Deacon Burton was innocent. What do you say?”
“I say that Deacon Burton had his day in court. Aren’t you glad we’re governed by laws, instead of public opinion?”
Maxwell turned his back to the reporter and answered questions from others. Just as he declared that there would be no more questions, the same female reporter taunted him. He faced her with narrowed eyes and brushed at the sweat forming on the palms of his hands.
“In the event that you did make a mistake, is there anything you would like to say to Deacon Burton’s wife and sons?” she asked.
Maxwell tilted his head back and allowed a heavy grunt to scuttle from his throat. “You want to impact your ratings with this sensationalism and this antagonistic line of questioning. I get it.” Maxwell paused to straighten his tie. “Deacon Burton’s death is unfortunate and is a painful loss for his family and the community. However, the criminal case against him was built on credible evidence that led to a conviction.” Maxwell zoomed in on the pesky reporter. “Didn’t you hear that witch hunts are illegal?” Chatter and mild comments came from the crowd. “The prosecutor doesn’t seek out innocent people to prosecute. This case was simple. The jury found him guilty, and the judge sentenced him. The judicial system works.”
His gaze combed the room. He’d done a dance with the media for years. The end result was always better when he led. Maxwell’s tone and the words he hurled made his position clear. He raised and pointed his index finger at the three reporters close to him. “You, you, and you, all of you should be ashamed. You’re wasting time interviewing me instead of doing a human interest story on the Burton family. They’ve lost a provider because of a senseless crime committed in our prison system. Your outrage is misplaced. We should be outraged about a person not being able to pay their debt to society in the safe confines of our penal system. There’s your story. There’s your human interest piece. This interview is over.” Maxwell felt invigorated and took charge. “Now I’m asking you to vacate my office, or I’ll have to get security,” he said.
The reporters tried pushing forward with more questions but eventually obliged. Maxwell peered past the reporters flooding out of his office and met Garrett’s gaze. He beckoned Garrett into his office, then gracefully exited the reception area, frazzled but determined not to show an inkling of discontent. The media had always been his platform to showcase his talent. His involvement with Deacon Burton’s case wouldn’t unravel years of crafting his image, his brand. There would be a round two with the media. However, next time, it would be on his terms, and he would be ready.
Chapter 19
They retreated into Maxwell’s office and shut the door. Maxwell stopped midway across the room and faced the desk.
“What a circus,” he said.
“Are you sure you want to meet today? We can reschedule,” Garrett told him.
Still wound up from the interview, Maxwell leaned against the front edge of his desk. “Forget about them. I’m more interested in what you’ve found out about Pastor Harris and Faith Temple.” With his arms folded across his chest, he waited.
“I’ve done some digging, but you’re not going to like the results. I haven’t found one speck of dirt on Pastor Harris or his church.”
Maxwell moved behind his desk, stared at Garrett, and fell into his chair. “This is not what I wanted to hear.”
“Well, it is what it is,” Garrett replied. “So far he’s clean.” Garrett took a chair in front of the desk.
“Impossible.” Maxwell’s arms flew from his chest, and then his palms smacked together hard. “He’s a preacher, for goodness sake, and you’re telling me you can’t find anything? Come on.”
“No, nothing yet. I have reviewed their taxes for the past twenty years. I checked his ministerial license to see if it was legit. His background check was spotless. The man doesn’t even have a parking ticket.”
“So that doesn’t mean it’s not there.”
Maxwell rested his index finger against his temple. He imagined that many members of Faith Temple would be thrilled and relieved to hear that no improprieties had been discovered. Instead, this ignited a tougher fight in Maxwell. He was sickened, knowing that this pastor was preying on the weak without any accountability or scrutiny. Maxwell wasn’t willing to let another church ruin families and not care. Pastors were like politicians and cops; they had a set of rules for others that they themselves didn’t follow. Maxwell scratched his neck. Nobody was above the law, including Pastor Harris. If he could, Maxwell was going to save as many families as possible, even if his efforts were unappreciated.
He went on. “I’ll give it to him. This pastor is slicker than the others and knows how to cover his tracks. But he’s not going to play us for a fool. We just have to be smarter about this,” Maxwell rose from his chair and leaned against the edge of his desk. “I need you to dig deeper.” He waved his hand in the air, dismissing the possibility of Pastor Harris being genuine. “What about his past, before he became a pastor? Did he cheat on his wife? Are there any illegitimate children out there? He’s bound to have dealt with some type of money problems. They always do. So double-check the finances. There are always nuggets of offenses there. We’ll get the IRS involved, if necessary. Those hounds will sniff out an unreported dollar, and you know it.” After removing his suit jacket and placing it on a felt hanger in the closet, he returned to his high-back chair. “What about his wife? What about the rest of his family?”
“You don’t mean his children too, do you?”
“Of course not. They are the only ones off-limits,” Maxwell replied.
“I’m way ahead of you.” Garrett opened a binder and gave Maxwell a brief rundown of what he’d learned about both Pastor Harris’s and his wife’s background. “I can tell you where they went to school, how they met, and even their credit scores.”
“Now you’re talking.”
“Don’t get too excited, because neither of them has a criminal background. They’ve never been arrested for anything. His wife has a dental practice, and it seems to be pretty successful. They have credit scores of seven ninety-five and eight fifteen. From what I can tell, they’re good people. The folks in their church support them. We’ll have to find somebody on his staff to investigate, if we’re going to find a legitimate angle.” Garrett ran down a list of people on Pastor Harris’s ministerial staff that he would be checking into as well. “I am just getting started with my investigation. It’s too early yet to know what might or might not turn up. If there is something to be found, I will find it.”
“I trust that you will find something that we can use to build a case. You say you checked his taxes for the past twenty years. Go back thirty years.”
“He’s too young for me to go back that far. He’s only forty.”
“Then find another way to put him under a microscope. You know what I expect.” Maxwell unlocked the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a white envelope. He handed it to Garrett. “This should take care of your expenses and payment. If you need more, let me know.”
Thirty minutes sailed by as Garrett proposed a few more areas for them to check out. “I can also visit a couple of church services, to get a feel for how the pastor works. You can learn a lot about a minister by sitting in his service.” He patted his pants pocket, making the change in it jingle.
“Great idea,” Maxwell said, getting excited. “If he pushes that donation basket around too much . . .”
“I’ll know about it,” Garrett interjected.
Maxwell leaned forward in his chair and snapped his fingers. “That’s what I�
�m talking about. Let’s get this dance started. We’ll run into a few dead ends, but sooner or later we will come across some information that will lead us to the winner’s circle with this guy.” Maxwell felt rejuvenated having Garrett back on his team and eager to get the job done. Finally, there was hope. “Pastor Harris might have fooled some of the people some of the time, but he can’t fool us any of the time.” Maxwell chuckled. Garrett did too. “I can’t wait for us to find out who this character really is.”
Suddenly, hail began hitting the windows on both sides of the office. Maxwell’s head swooped around, and he saw the small white pellets pinging against the glass.
Garrett closed his tablet and headed to one of the windows. The noise got louder. Pellet after pellet hit the window and slid down the glass. Garrett turned to Maxwell. “I’m willing to keep digging, but like I said before, we’ll have to be absolutely certain, with no doubts at all, that Pastor Harris is guilty before we build a case. That is the only way I’ll be involved.”
Maxwell knew Garrett was serious by the inflection of his voice and had no choice but to agree. He needed Garrett’s investigative skills. More importantly, Maxwell couldn’t bear another Deacon Burton wearing on his conscience. “I’ve told you before, and I’ll tell you again that I hear you.” Maxwell let that close out the conversation.
Chapter 20
Maxwell’s assistant belted over the intercom, “Mr. Montgomery, you have a call on line one from a Ms. Winston.”
Startled, Maxwell immediately stopped paging through the law book on his desk and pressed the blinking button on the phone. After his long meeting with Garrett regarding Pastor Harris, he still hadn’t made a dent in the mound of work in front of him. But Ms. Winston’s call was a welcomed interruption.
“Maxwell Montgomery speaking.”
“Mr. Montgomery. This is Jill, Jill Winston. Do you remember me?”
“Of course I do. How are you?”
“I’m doing much, much better than I was the last time we spoke.”
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