“Why would he do something as stupid as that? If Hezekiah goes down over this, we’ll all be out of a job.”
“I know, but I just don’t trust anyone,” Catherine said. “How’s eight thirty tomorrow morning for you, in the conference room?”
“I’ll be here.”
The two walked toward the door and embraced.
“Oh my God,” Catherine said. “You wanted to talk to me about something. I’m sorry, Percy. This has got me so distracted.”
“Don’t worry about that. We can talk about it later. This is much more important.”
The next day Catherine, Kenneth, and Percy met in the conference room. Percy took the seat of power at the head of the conference room table.
Catherine broke the silence at the table and asked, “Where is Hezekiah? Shouldn’t he be here to talk about this?”
“I thought the whole discussion might make him uncomfortable,” Percy replied. “He doesn’t know we’re meeting.”
“I think that was a mistake,” Kenneth said nervously. “If he finds out we discussed this behind his back, he’ll be furious.” As he spoke, he picked up his cell phone from the table and said, “I don’t want any part of this.”
Reverend Pryce leaned forward. “Wait a minute, Kenneth. There’s no reason for him to find out. I just wanted us to put our heads together and come up with a plan. This meeting never took place as far as anyone outside this room is concerned.”
Kenneth looked at Catherine for signs of agreement. She signified yes by nodding.
“All right. I’ll stay. But if he finds out about this meeting, I’ll deny I was ever here.”
“Good then,” Percy said with slight relief. “I spoke with Hezekiah, and it’s not alleged. He confirmed the whole story. There is in fact a Danny St. John, and they are involved in a sexual relationship.”
“How long has it been going on?” Kenneth asked.
“He said for about a year. If that story is printed, all hell is going to break loose.”
“We’re all aware of that, Percy. But there just might be some way to convince Lance Savage to kill the story.” Kenneth looked at Catherine. “You know Lance better than we do. What do you think? Can he be bribed, frightened off?”
Catherine shook her head. “I don’t think there’s any way he’s going to let this slide. I’ve seen him in action. He’s relentless once he gets his hands on anything sensational. He stands to build a national reputation on this.”
“Come on, there’s got to be some way,” Percy interjected. “Every man has a price. We just have to find out what his is.”
“The construction budget has one million dollars in discretionary funds,” Kenneth said to no one in particular. “I think we should offer to buy his silence. That’s the only way.”
Catherine sat silently while the two debated the plan’s merits. The conversation progressed more rapidly than she had wished. She finally spoke. “I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves here. What I’d like to know is, who leaked the story in the first place? That’s what’s most important.”
Percy looked at her impatiently and said, “That’s irrelevant. It’s out, and now we have to deal with the consequences.”
“I disagree,” Catherine protested. “Let’s say we are able to silence Lance. Whoever the source is could easily find another reporter to pick it up. Eventually, we’ll have to buy off every reporter in the city.”
Kenneth leaned back in his chair and said, “She’s right. Whoever this person is, they are obviously very close to Hezekiah and have something to gain by him not being the pastor. Any ideas?”
“It could be anyone,” Catherine said. “Even one of us.”
Catherine’s last words unleashed a flurry of retorts. Kenneth bolted to his feet. “If you’re suggesting I’m responsible, you’re crazy. I’ll be out of a job if this ever gets out.”
Percy raised his voice. “I take personal offense at your accusations, Catherine. I’ve devoted the past five years of my life to this church, and I deserve better than that.”
Kenneth held up his hands in an appeal for calm. “Hold on, everybody. Let’s not accuse each other. Who else could have gotten that close to Hezekiah to know about this?”
“How about Dino, his driver?” Catherine asked. “He must know about it, but I think he would rather take a bullet in the head than see any harm come to Hezekiah.”
Everyone nodded in consensus. Puzzled expressions formed on their faces as they pondered who the Judas might be.
Catherine, with great caution, broke the silence. “I know this might sound crazy, but I’m going to say it, anyway. What about Samantha?”
The puzzled looks quickly changed to shock and horror.
“Catherine, how could you even think something that horrible?” Kenneth said. “Samantha worships the ground Hezekiah walks on. She would rather die than see him publicly humiliated.”
Catherine recoiled in her chair. “I know. You’re right. I just wanted to put it out there.”
“Well, please don’t ever say anything like that again,” Percy said in a fatherly tone. “She’s going to be hurt enough when she learns about the affair. I’d hate to see her hurt even more if a rumor like that started circulating.”
Having been chastised, Catherine said, “I’m sorry. I’m not suggesting she did it, but we have to look at all possibilities.”
“Look, this idle speculation isn’t getting us anywhere,” Kenneth said with his hands clasped in front of his face. “We could be here all day trying to figure out who did this. I say we go back to our original plan and offer Lance money. If the story resurfaces again later, then maybe we’ll have more time to flush out the source. But not now. We don’t have the time.”
“Kenneth is right,” said Percy. “If we’re going to act, we have to do it quickly.”
“Are we all in agreement, then?” Kenneth asked.
Percy said yes, but Catherine simply stared out the window.
“Catherine, what about you? Do you agree or not?” Percy asked.
“I don’t think it’s going to work, but if that’s our only option, then yes, I agree.”
Kenneth clapped his hands and said, “All right, then. I’ll meet with Lance this afternoon and make the offer and hopefully—”
“Wait a minute, Kenneth,” Percy said, “I want to come with you. I’d like to have a few words with him myself.”
“You don’t want to upset Lance,” Catherine said. “He’s in control. If you threaten him, he’ll turn you down flat.”
“I won’t threaten him. I just think we should hedge our bet with a little intimidation. Let him know that if he reneges on the agreement, there will be serious consequences.”
“It’s risky, but it might help in the long run,” said Kenneth. “Okay, Percy. As soon as I set up a time for the meeting, I’ll call you.” Kenneth stood and said, “Wish us luck, Catherine. We’re going to need it.”
Percy now wished he had never heard the name Danny St. John. He regretted getting involved and taking the lead in trying to get the reporter to drop the story about Hezekiah.
I should have stayed out of it, he thought as the man across from him wrapped up his tale of financial and marital woe. I should have let the Cleavelands just deal with their own mess themselves.
Now his life would never be the same. A man had died at his hands. His own wife was the source of the e-mails that had launched the newspaper article. And in spite of the fact that she knew he had killed a man, she was more determined than ever for him to become pastor.
“Reverend Pryce . . . ,” said the parishioner sitting across from him at the desk in his office.
Percy did not hear him.
“Reverend Pryce . . .” the man said again. “So what do you think? Should I beg my wife to come back to me?”
The second call pulled Percy back to the counseling session. “Yes, I’m sorry, Brother. I . . . I . . . Yes, you should call her. She’s just afraid and confused right now. C
all her and tell her you forgive her, and let her know how much you love her. Tell her you two can work this out together.”
“Thank you, Reverend Pryce,” the man said, standing with Percy. “That’s exactly what I needed to hear. Thank you.”
As the man exited the room, Percy sat down behind his desk. He knew the parting words of advice he had just given were more for himself than for the man whose problems he hadn’t heard.
I do love her so much, he thought warmly. She’s just afraid and confused.
The waters off the California coast between Catalina Island and Long Beach were calm and tranquil, the occasional wave causing the yacht to rock gently from bow to stern. The rear deck held a series of wooden chairs and chaise lounges with blue-striped cushions. A brown lacquered table with chrome pedestal legs held a vase filled with orchids, a bucket filled with champagne and ice, and two flutes.
Cherrywood covered much of the walls of the main cabin below deck. A big-screen television was positioned on a wall next to a state-of-the-art sound system. Overstuffed tan chairs and couches had been placed seemingly in no particular order around the large space. A wet bar complete with stools and taps was in one corner of the cabin.
It was 199 feet of floating elegance, complete with six staterooms, a formal dining room, a six-person sauna, a Jacuzzi on deck, and a wine cellar, and had a range of 5,380 nautical miles.
Samantha and David sat looking out a bank of tinted windows at the endless Pacific Ocean, while the three-man crew labored above deck, unseen and unheard. They each held a glass of champagne.
“You can’t screw it up this time, David,” Samantha said calmly without looking in his direction. “There’s too much at stake.”
David did not speak. He took a gulp of champagne and stared blankly at the horizon. The gentle rocking of the boat intensified the churning in his stomach.
“Danny St. John has been living with Gideon Truman for the past four weeks. You’ll find them at his home in Hollywood Hills.”
“How do you know that?” David asked, looking in her direction.
“I know everything about Danny and Gideon. I have a man in Switzerland that will tell you the number of hairs on anyone’s head in the world for the right price.”
“What else do you know about them?” David regretted asking the question as soon as the words left his mouth.
“I know that Danny has a hundred twenty-seven dollars in his bank account. I know that he’s estranged from his mother. That he has a cat named Parker, and that he’s a social worker at a nonprofit agency that works with the homeless. What else would you like to know?” she asked confidently.
“How about Gideon?”
“He has a net worth of twenty million dollars. His only living relative is his grandmother in Texas. He’s never been in a long-term relationship. Before he met Danny, he occasionally hired male prostitutes, who would visit him in hotels downtown. I also know the alarm system on his home has been temporarily disabled.”
“Disabled?” David said in disbelief.
“That’s correct.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“You would be surprised how responsive the manager of his security company was to an anonymous offer of ten thousand dollars to accidentally allow his service to lapse for one week,” she said with a disdainful smile. “It’s a shame what some people will do for money these days.”
David looked away in disgust.
“It has to be done this week, David. I want it done before the cathedral opening this Sunday. I don’t want this hanging over my head that morning. I need to be able to focus on my sermon and nothing else.”
David was silent.
“Do you understand me, David?” she asked. “You have to do it this week.”
David had resigned himself to the promise he had made during the throes of passion they had shared. Her intoxicating scent in the cabin caused his senses to reel. He was weak in her presence. He was weak in her absence. Just the thought of her made his legs wobble. But the thought of killing a man caused his nerves to fray. Now the thought of killing two men had left him in a state of unbridled panic.
“Isn’t there any other way you can shut them up? Did you try offering Gideon money?”
“Weren’t you listening when I said he’s worth twenty million dollars? Plus, now that he’s fucking Danny St. John, he won’t be able to listen to reason. Look what Danny did to Hezekiah, for God’s sake. He was willing to walk away from a multimillion-dollar ministry and, even more amazing, away from me,” she said without a hint of modesty. “I’m sure Gideon is no match for him.”
“He can’t be that great.”
“You didn’t look in his eyes. For a moment I thought I was looking in a mirror,” she said admiringly. “He’s stunning. I understood as soon as I looked at him why Hezekiah fell in love with him.”
As she spoke, David felt his head sway with the rhythmic motion of the boat. With each wave the cabin seemed to spin to the left and to the right, then to and fro. He sensed the beginnings of a debilitating panic attack. David fumbled in his coat pocket for the vile of pills that had grounded him so many times before. But they were not there.
“What are you looking for?” Samantha asked as she saw him grope his pants and jacket pockets.
“My pills,” he said guardedly. “I need my pills.”
“What kind of pills?” David had her full attention now.
“Diazepam.”
“Why do you need Valium?”
“Panic attacks, all right!” he snapped. “I’ve had them my entire life.”
David had had his first anxiety attack when he was eight years old. He had innocently placed his hand his chest and for the first time had felt the gentle beating of his heart. He instinctively knew that it was the source of his life and that if the beating stopped, he would die. For the next hour his mind had been awash with frightening thoughts of what he could do to make sure his heart continued to beat. But at eight years old, he could not find the answer. The more he thought, the faster his heart would beat. And the faster his heart beat, the less he was able to control the frightening images that flooded his mind.
Then, finally, the sight of his young body lying lifeless there on the living room floor sent him running for the comfort of his mother’s arms. She calmed his fears and wiped away his tears as only a mother could. Since then, whenever David found himself in situations that presented him with pressure he was unable to handle, his head would begin to spin, his heart would race, and sweat would pour from his brow. Diazepam, Prozac, Zoloft, Paxil, and Cymbalta were now called on to replace the comforting arms of his mother.
“Here. Drink this,” Samantha said, waving a half-full brandy snifter in his face.
David’s trembling hand took the glass, and he quickly downed the quivering brown liquid.
“You can’t fall apart on me now, David,” Samantha said, closely studying him. “I need you to get ahold of yourself.”
“I’ll be fine,” David said, panting. “Just give me a minute and I’ll be fine.”
David stood before the bank of windows and took three deep breaths through his nose, the way his psychiatrist had instructed him. “I’m better now,” he said self-consciously. “They usually pass pretty quickly.”
Samantha stared at the man standing at her window, surrounded by the deep blue sea. She expertly recalculated the level of care, flattery, and physical attention she would need to apply to ensure that he would do her bidding.
“David, darling, are you okay now?” she asked gently.
“I told you, I’m fine.”
“Good. I need you to keep a level head. At least until Sunday. Are you going to be able to do this for me?” she asked, turning her back to him. “If not, then I’ll have to . . .”
David could feel her slipping away. “I told you I would do anything for you,” he said, placing his hand on her shoulder. “I don’t want to, but if this is what it will take for us to be together, then I�
�ll do it.”
Samantha turned to him. They were now only a breath’s length away from each other. “I’m afraid, David. You won’t let me down, will you?” she asked, gently brushing his cheek. “I need you to be strong for me.”
David slowly wilted under her touch. The cabin began to whirl, and his heart raced again. Not from panic this time, but from lust. The warmth of her breath caused him to shudder. He could feel her touch pierce his body down to the soles of his feet. No need for Xanax or his mother’s arms when Samantha was near him. The overwhelming complexities of life and the reality of murder became insignificant trivia, easily swept from his mind when she was within his reach.
“Thank you for agreeing to speak with me, Mrs. Shackelford,” Gideon said politely. “I know this has been a difficult time for everyone at New Testament Cathedral, especially for the members of the board of trustees.”
“I’m sorry I don’t have much time,” Scarlett said, directing Gideon into her living room. “I have to pick up my daughter in an hour.”
“Oh, you have a daughter? Is that her there?” Gideon pointed to a photograph of a little girl, with pink barrettes dangling from pigtails, sitting on the fireplace mantelpiece. “She’s adorable. What’s her name?”
“Natalie,” Scarlett replied guardedly. “Please sit down. So what is this about? Why do you need to speak with me?”
Gideon took a second look at the picture on the mantel. There was something familiar about the cute little girl in the photograph.
“As I mentioned on the phone, I’m doing a story on the life of Hezekiah Cleaveland. I’ve had the opportunity to speak with Samantha, Hattie Williams, and a few other members, but I don’t think my story would be complete if I didn’t interview all the members of the board of trustees.”
Scarlett did not respond.
Gideon sat in the comfortable chair she had directed him to. From his vantage point he could see the little girl in the photo staring down at him just to Scarlett’s left. “Would you mind if I recorded our conversation?” he asked, pulling a small recorder from his breast pocket. “My handwriting is so bad, I sometimes can’t read my own notes.”
The Last Sunday Page 14
