Garrett shook the envelope of money and aimed it toward his determined employer. “Don’t work me, Maxwell. I know what this is, and I’d be willing to bet this will come back to bite us both.” He shoved the envelope into his jacket pocket.
A blank four-by-six manila envelope on the desk distracted Maxwell. His assistant must have placed it there earlier. “Give me a second, Garrett. Let me check this out.” There was no return address and no postmark. Now what? What was some knucklehead sending him in the mail? He tapped the envelope with his middle finger. He considered whether he should open it. The mystery item in his hand dared him, and he took the bait. Why the heck not? Maxwell tore into the end of it. He slipped the item out and unfolded it. He was stunned seeing a copy of his legal license. It had his name, the correct dates, and an official seal from the state of Pennsylvania. The yellow sticky note attached to it read, Enjoy. You won’t have it much longer.
Maxwell became more irritated than worried. His conscience was hounding him. The media was hounding him, and then were was this clown sending threating notes and making prank calls. He’d had enough.
“I need one more favor.”
“What else could you possibly want me to do?”
Maxwell disregarded Garrett’s tone and stayed on task. “I’m tired of this wannabe stalker wasting my time. Could you do me a favor and look into this nonsense?” He lifted the contents of the envelope in his hand as he spoke to Garrett.
“I’m glad you’re finally taking the threat serious.”
“Does that mean you’ll find this person for me?”
“Of course, I’ll look into it. I might not agree with your tactics lately, but I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”
“Cool,” Maxwell replied. “I’m stuffing the notes into an envelope as we speak. I’ll drop it off at the courier service on my way out the building tonight. The package will be at your office early tomorrow.” Maxwell hesitated and then uttered, “Thanks for your help. I know you didn’t have to say yes. Regardless of our differences, I respect you and that’s for real.”
“Just be careful.”
Chapter 47
Maxwell’s office door swung open and pulled both his and Garrett’s attention. Maxwell’s head whipped toward the door. His assistant entered without knocking and started talking immediately in a rapid and a stern tone.
“You need to check out the news broadcast, right now.”
“Where did you come from? You left and I put the alarm on the door.”
“I saw the news when I got to the lobby and came right back up. You have to see this. Turn your TV on.”
“This better be good since you barged in on my meeting,” Maxwell demanded. He pressed the power button, and his assistant took the remote from him and selected the channel that he needed to watch. He glared at her with squinted eyelids. The news broadcast snatched his attention from her.
“Maxwell Montgomery, the prominent attorney with a perfect win record, attempted to build a case against Pastor Renaldo Harris of Faith Temple Church with a witness who was discovered to have lied. Mr. Layne accused Pastor Harris of infidelity, being a womanizer, and stealing money from the church. After a thorough investigation, it was discovered that Mr. Layne was simply a disgruntled member and a paid staff member at Faith Temple who had been fired and was determined to discredit Pastor Harris in retaliation.”
Garrett and Maxwell stared at each other for a few seconds. Garrett dropped his head for a few seconds then looked up and shot a stern look at Maxwell. “I told you this would happen.”
“I knew that attorney was wrong about Pastor Harris. If he had done the right kind of investigating, he would have discovered the man was innocent before he tried to build a case against him. Shoot, most of these lawyers are dishonest and crooks themselves,” said an older man who was being interviewed.
“I don’t want to hear any ‘I told you so’ speeches. I’ve worked too hard for my reputation to be dragged through the mud. This case isn’t over yet.”
Maxwell’s assistant retreated to the office door. She was met by reporters herding toward her.
Reporters with cameras flashing, microphones being shoved at Maxwell. His assistant attempting to ward off the reporters was suddenly the circus of events in his office.
“Do you have a comment on the recent discovery that your witness, Mr. Layne, lied about Pastor Harris’s infidelity and misappropriation of church funds?” a thick male voice demanded.
“Mr. Montgomery, why did you think Mr. Layne would be a credible witness against Pastor Harris?” Another male reporter asked.
“What evidence did he provide against the pastor that made his accusations seem credible?” Maxwell heard another reporter shout out.
Then a female voice taunted him with a question. “Will your error tarnish your perfect win record? Will this be the case that you lose?”
Maxwell looked to his right and noticed that the question came from the same female reporter that had been in his office before, asking if he was feeling guilty about Deacon Burton’s death. His office was crowded, and the air was suddenly thick. “Here’s a comment for you. A guilty and corrupt man cannot be fully exonerated simply because one witness may not have been reliable. It will take more than that to stop the case against Pastor Harris and Faith Temple. The truth will be uncovered. And this case will not be tried in the media and not in my office. Get out, or I will call security and have you removed from the premises.”
He turned to his assistant and said, “Call security and get these reporters out of here or you’ll be looking for a job in a matter of minutes.”
Garrett shook his head again at Maxwell and pressed his way through the reporters that were starting to file out of the office.
Maxwell grabbed the now warm bottle of water on the corner of his desk and chugged it down. This case would not be derailed, and his reputation would not be damaged. Maxwell would make sure of that. Defeat was not an option. Maxwell crushed the plastic water bottle between both hands and continued to squeeze it hard as he watched the last reporter leave his office.
Chapter 48
The sun was approaching the horizon. A sliver of light attempted to break through the early Saturday morning darkness. Chirping birds were still able to hide themselves in the shadows of the trees as Maxwell jogged past. It had been a seventy-hour workweek, but that didn’t hinder him from getting up at the crack of dawn to get in his usual five-mile run. His running companion was the realization that he had nothing concrete against Pastor Harris.
He didn’t have an individual client calling a foul against the pastor. When all else failed, Maxwell was generally able to get a small group of people to join in on a class-action lawsuit. He’d never fallen short on getting people to sign up and lie under oath when there was money involved. In fifteen years, he’d only been turned down once, by Jill Winston. While he had nothing concrete on the pastor, he did have a solid plan in place. The attractive, sexy woman the perfect pastor was about to meet would uncover his true character and expose his sins for sure. Maxwell was drenched in optimism.
The encounter with Pastor Harris in the drugstore came to mind when Maxwell ran by a man seated on a bench, with a bandage on his forehead. The fact that Maxwell hadn’t suffered a headache since Faith Temple’s senior pastor had prayed for him didn’t make him a believer for one second. He pushed the prayer out of his mind and chased the possibility of building an airtight civil case that would stick once Pastor Harris met the woman whom Maxwell was paying good money to perform her magic. He chuckled within. Pastor Harris didn’t know it, but he’d better be loading up on prayers for himself.
Maxwell was energized by thinking about the fallout. Garrett needed to get the plan under way and wrapped up. The woman couldn’t be in town too long. The fewer people she was around, the less chance of anything going wrong. The only person she needed to know in Philadelphia was Pastor Harris. Garrett was a professional, but he hadn’t facilitated anything
like this before, as far as Maxwell knew. This thing had to be handled with caution, or it could blow up in their faces, and even take him down, instead of his intended target.
The sting in his legs and his dry mouth encouraged Maxwell to notice the mile marker on the running path. He’d run five miles in one direction, instead of going his usual two and half miles and then heading back. He turned around and hurried home to hit the shower. His body pressed forward, and so did his worries as he considered what waited for him at the office. His office would be quiet, and there were a few things he wanted to knock out.
In an efficient management of time, he showered, dressed, and had a cup of coffee before he left the house. The sun was fully awake, but clouds had begun to form when he got into his car. After stopping at the gas station and the bank, he headed to the barbershop before going to the office. The rain found its way to his windshield as Maxwell stopped at a red light. He noticed a man sitting in the drizzling rain. Why would he sit there and not attempt to shield himself? His cardboard sign read: LOST MY JOB, MY HOME, AND MY FAMILY. I’M HUNGRY. SOMEBODY HELP ME.
Maxwell had seen plenty of panhandlers on street corners. He’d never stopped or been moved by words on a sign previously. He’d always figured that most of them were con artists and were just looking for a handout, instead of working. He didn’t get that feeling about this particular man. Instead, the man yanked Maxwell back to the day his family was forced to move out of their home. He could vividly see the moving van, the empty rooms, and the boxes of things they gave away, since a four-bedroom house wouldn’t fit into a tiny apartment. As a birthday gift, his father had had a mural painted on his bedroom wall of every Supreme Court justice, including his hero, Thurgood Marshall. It was gone too. Maxwell lost a home that day and his family along with it.
The traffic light had turned green, red, and back to green again. Cars had blown their horns while zooming around him. Maxwell’s car was still sitting at the corner. The last honking car horn behind him got his attention. He eased his foot off the brake, turned the corner, and pulled over to the side of the road. He removed several bills from his wallet and got out of the car, ignoring the rain. Maxwell walked up to the man and held the money out in front of him.
The man did not reach for the money.
“Take it. You can have it.” The man looked up at him. He appeared to be close to Maxwell’s age and hid behind a hedge of wild, bushy hair. Maxwell leaned over and stuffed the money into the man’s empty tin can.
A raspy voice spoke through the bushy hair on the man’s face. “Thank you.”
“Get out of the rain. You should get somewhere dry,” Maxwell suggested.
The man held his gaze and responded, “Thank you. Maybe I will.”
Maxwell was perplexed. Why wouldn’t he get out of the rain? He had some money now. He’d given him more than enough for a meal and a room, if the man wanted to get one. Maxwell examined the man’s dirty nails, torn clothes, mangy hair, and beard. What situations in life would take a man to such a low point? Unfortunately, he knew the answer, thanks to the bishop. Maxwell went back to his car. He wiped the rain from his face and couldn’t help but look back at the man in his rearview mirror.
And the great Pastor Harris wanted him to let go of the past. No way, Maxwell thought. The past was his true source of motivation. He pulled onto the road and drove a little faster, putting some distance between himself and what could have been his life. His father could have been the man sitting on the corner. Heck, he could have been that man. There had to be consequences for the wrong done in life. Even for those who used the pulpit as a shield. If Maxwell got his way, every man who deserved it would have his day in court.
A few minutes later, Maxwell parked the car on the street and entered the barbershop. He claimed a seat in the corner, pleased to see there wasn’t a swarm of folks waiting for their turn.
“I’ll get to you in just a bit, Mr. Montgomery,” his usual barber told him.
He replied with a quick nod. He’d been using the same barber for several years. He’d be in and out quickly, which was just what he needed. No time to socialize or shoot the breeze with the fellas in the shop. He was there for a haircut and nothing else. Hopefully, Sonya wasn’t going to disrupt his plan, like she’d tried to during his last visit.
An older man with a cane on his lap watched Maxwell. Out of the corner of his eye, Maxwell noticed the man shifting his attention between him and the TV. Their eyes met. They examined each other, neither willing to lift his gaze.
The old man lifted his cane and pointed it at Maxwell. “You’re that attorney who’s going around, tearing down the good pastor’s name. Pastor Harris is a good man. Son, don’t you have something better to do with your time, money, and fancy car?” He took a glimpse over his shoulder at Maxwell’s car sitting out front. “Looks like you’ve made enough money digging around in people’s lives to keep you satisfied. Why don’t you go somewhere and sit down? You’re wasting your time, anyway, with Faith Temple. You’re going to come up dry when it comes to Pastor Harris.” He shook the cane in Maxwell’s direction and then turned his attention back to the TV.
The man’s speech seemed to have a profound effect on the other patrons. A hush had claimed the room. Maxwell struggled to hold his tongue in his own defense. That old man didn’t know him. He had probably read or heard some of the garbage about him in the media. Instead of giving him the tongue-lashing someone else would have received, Maxwell fell prey to words his father had often repeated: “Son, respect your elders.” Maxwell picked up the newspaper next to him. He would let that one slide and wouldn’t come out with both barrels loaded and blast the man out of his business. But the old guy had better know that this was a one-time pass. Seconds weren’t free.
Chapter 49
Garrett glanced at the monitor for the fifth time in less than thirty minutes. The inbound flight from Belize would be arriving late. There was a buzz of people scurrying around the airport, searching for their departure gate, and others waiting to see a familiar face near the baggage terminal. He needed to meet the woman as soon as possible terminal and get out of that very public place. Maxwell didn’t want to be seen with the woman or have his name mentioned. That was understandable. However, Garrett didn’t want to be sucked down into the abyss of destruction, either, if the dirty deed went south. He inspected the picture of the woman again and refreshed his memory of her face. He would have to identify her in a sea of folks who would be searching for their baggage on the carousel.
Garrett hustled to the window and huddled in a corner. He took out a small flip phone and punched in a number that he read from a slip of paper. The phone rang several times, with no answer. Garrett’s contact had better pick up, and the woman had better be on the flight. The phone continued to ring. There was no answer and no voice mail. He flipped the phone shut and squeezed it hard in the palm of his hand. His eyes latched on to the monitor that displayed the inbound flights. The plane from Belize had landed. The phone in his hand rang, and Garrett jammed it to his ear.
“What going on? Is she on the plane?” Garrett demanded.
“Calm down. She’s on the plane,” the contact replied.
“She had better be. You got a lot of money to make sure she landed in Philadelphia.”
“She will be there.”
“You’ll hear from me if she isn’t.” Garrett snapped the phone shut.
Swarms of people engulfed the baggage carousel. Garrett clenched the picture of Colita between his fingers, meticulously examining every slim woman who looked to be about five-eight with a curvy build and a mole on the side of her right eye. A woman fitting that description approached the baggage carousel. It wasn’t long before she retrieved a designer garment bag and a matching roller bag. The investigator watched her survey the crowd, her head moving back and forth. She appeared to be paying close attention to the men who came near her.
Garrett inched a bit closer, his gaze shifting from the woman’s face
back to the picture. Was it her? He didn’t have time for a wild-goose chase. He approached the woman, who was dressed in a royal blue, formfitting dress and a lightweight black jacket. She was attractive, all right.
“Excuse me. Are you Colita?”
“Yes,” she sang out, her island accent apparent.
“You can call me Nathan.”
“What do other people call you?” she asked in a flirtatious way.
“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get to your hotel.”
Garrett relieved Colita of her luggage and guided her through the airport and out to the rental car he’d secured for their short trip. No time for any pleasantries, like a handshake. She needed to be tucked away behind the closed door of a hotel room as quickly as possible. He tossed the luggage in the trunk, opened the passenger door for Colita, hopped in the car, and sped away from the airport, feeling better with each mile traveled.
Colita sat quietly during the ride. Garrett was glad she didn’t initiate any conversation, and he happily returned the same courtesy. He drove to a nearby little town, found the hotel, entered the lobby, and paid the desk clerk for a week’s stay. One week was all Colita had to get Pastor Harris tangled up in her web of deceit. After that, Garrett was done.
Once they were behind closed doors, Garrett was free to talk.
“What did your contact in Belize tell you about the job you’re here to do?”
“That it paid well and all expenses would be covered,” she said in broken English. She winked at Garrett, licked her lips, and allowed her head to move up and down to access his tall frame.
“I’ll make this quick,” he offered, ignoring her gaze and her actions. “You’re here to play a practical joke on a friend. He’s a local pastor.” Lying about the job, characterizing it as a practical joke, couldn’t be avoided. He had to give the impression that the task would cause no one a problem. “My friends and I would like for you to call him and act interested in his church. Say you’re new in town, and you’ve heard good things about his ministry. Set up an appointment to meet with him at the church.”
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