Friends & Foes

by ReShonda Tate Billingsley

  “Don’t thank me yet. Let me get there and get you two out of this mess first.”

  “I know exactly where we can start. Who’s Pastor Griffith’s girlfriend?”

  A beat passed and then, “Well, I was one of his ladies back in the day.”

  Jasmine’s eyebrows rose, though she couldn’t say that she was surprised. That had been her first thought when she’d met Pastor Griffith and saw the way he and Mae Frances interacted. In fact, when Jasmine had found out that Pastor Griffith was a crook, she wasn’t too sure if she could trust Mae Frances anymore.

  “I’m talking about now. Who’s his girlfriend now?”

  “Why?”

  “Apparently you haven’t heard everything,” Jasmine said before she filled Mae Frances in. She spoke for almost five minutes, telling Mae Frances about everything from Rachel being accosted on the steps of Eleanor’s building to her being held in Eleanor’s apartment. “For some reason, they think Rachel was Pastor Griffith’s girlfriend.”

  “Hmmm.” Mae Frances hummed as if she already had some ideas.

  “Do you think he could have been messing around with Cecelia?”

  “Cecelia who?”

  “King! Cece—”

  But before she could finish, Mae Frances was laughing so loud, Jasmine had to pull the phone away from her ear.

  It took Mae Frances a couple of minutes to compose herself enough to say, “Why would Earl want anything to do with Madea’s twin?”

  “Come on, Mae Frances. Cecelia doesn’t look that bad.”

  “Have you taken a good look at her? And do you remember what Earl looked like?”

  “I’m just sayin’, Cecelia seems to be everywhere and—”

  “Trust me, she ain’t the one. We’ll figure that out when I get there.” She paused as if she needed a moment to get herself completely together. “That was a good one, Jasmine Larson, but we need to stop playing around and get back to business.”

  Huh? She wasn’t the one who’d been cracking up like she was watching Def Comedy Jam.

  Mae Frances continued, “You need to get over to wherever they’re holding that girl and Buddy will meet you. He’ll have Rachel out of there in no time; the police never mess with Al Sharpton’s kin. Not if they don’t want to see a riot in their city.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m going to tell Buddy to make sure that you two get to a hotel,” Mae Frances continued, “and just wait there ’til you hear from me.”

  “Okay.”

  “I mean it, Jasmine Larson,” Mae Frances warned. “I won’t be able to help if you two go off to do things on your own.”

  “Ohhhhkay! I promise. I won’t make a move.”

  “And what about that ghetto Scarlett O’Hara? Make sure she doesn’t do anything either.”

  Jasmine wanted to defend Rachel once again, but this time, she only said, “We’ll both wait for you.”

  “You better!” Mae Frances snapped as if for good measure.

  Jasmine clicked off the phone and she almost smiled. Mae Frances’s mumbling and grumbling gave her a peace that she hadn’t had in all the days that she’d been in Chicago. Jasmine had no doubt that help was on the way.

  Now, she could get over to that jail and let Rachel know that all was going to be well. But before she could do that, there was still one more thing she had to do.

  She had to call their husbands.

  Jasmine didn’t have her story completely straight when she dialed Hosea, but just like when she’d called Mae Frances, he answered on the first ring.

  “Jasmine!”

  “I know, I know, babe. I’m sorry I didn’t call you back before now.”

  “That’s okay, I just wanted to make sure that you were all right. It’s all over the news—Rachel’s been arrested.”

  “I’m not sure that she’s been arrested,” Jasmine said. “I think the police just might be questioning her right now.”

  “Well, the news said that she was arrested, right outside of Pastor Griffith’s church.”

  “We went there this morning for the service. We had no idea that all of this was going on.”

  “Tell me about it! I thought you were in Chicago for interviews and now you turn up in the middle of this mess.”

  “Technically, I’m not in it.”

  “Well, what happened? How did Rachel get in it?”

  Jasmine paused, not sure how much she wanted to tell Hosea. She and Rachel hadn’t had any time to figure out the stories to tell their husbands and she wanted their tales to sound similar.

  So Jasmine stayed as close to the truth as she could. “I really don’t know how Rachel got wrapped up in this. We were waiting for Yvette to set up a few more things and we decided to go to church this morning.”

  “And the police just came in there? In the middle of service and arrested Rachel?”

  “Something . . . like that.”

  “I know Rachel is probably frantic,” Hosea said.

  “Yeah, I’m on my way to the jail to see if there’s anything I can do,” Jasmine said, deciding not to mention Mae Frances just yet. Though she knew her husband loved Mae Frances as much as she did, Jasmine never knew how Hosea would react to Mae Frances and her connections. He always wanted to leave everything up to God when there were times when God just needed a little help. And Mae Frances was the right one to help Him.

  “I’m glad you and Rachel worked out your . . . challenges. I’m glad you’re there with her, at least until Lester gets there.”

  “You spoke to Lester?”

  “Yeah, as soon as I saw the report on the news, I called him. He was running out the door to catch a flight right then.” Hosea paused. “You know what? I wonder if I need to come to Chicago.”

  Jasmine closed her eyes. As much as she wanted to see Mae Frances, she was dying to see her husband. Just one hug from him and all of this trembling would stop.

  “Yeah,” Hosea said as if he was thinking it through as he spoke to her. “Lester may need some support and it’s not that long a flight.”

  “But what about Jacquie and Zaya?” Jasmine said, especially concerned about her children ever since Jacqueline had been kidnapped when she was just four.

  “Mrs. Sloss is here. And I’ll call Mae Frances and my father. Don’t worry, darlin’. I wouldn’t leave them if I didn’t think they were safe.”

  “I know,” Jasmine said, deciding to let Mae Frances tell Hosea that she was coming to Chicago, too. “I can’t wait to see you, Hosea. It’s all been so horrible.”

  “I’m on my way. I’ll call you when I have my flight details.”

  “I love you,” she told him before she hung up the phone.

  Jasmine closed her eyes. The two people she loved the most were coming to rescue her, to save her. She wanted to just sit there and cry, but she had work to do.

  She lifted her iPad to power it down, then glanced at the scripture again.

  The Lord is my light and my salvation—so why should I be afraid? The Lord is my fortress, protecting me from danger, so why should I tremble?

  Now she had to smile. Why should she tremble, indeed?

  Chapter

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Rachel struggled to contain her shock as her eyes roamed up and down the length of the towering, caramel-color man standing in front of her. This Walker, Texas Ranger–looking man was supposed to be her savior? This man in his cowboy hat, tan blazer, khaki pants, and alligator boots—and was that a perm? This was the best Mae Frances could do?

  Rachel released a long sigh as she leaned back in her seat.

  Death Row, here I come.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” the man said, slamming his alligator skin briefcase on the table. “Buddy Clemons is the name, attorney at law. My client is done talking.” He looked at Rachel, flashed a lopsided smile, then turned back to the detectives. They hadn’t been too happy to hear that Rachel had an attorney here to represent her.

  Buddy took out a legal-size notepad a
nd an expensive-looking pen. “I’d like to know the charges against my client.”

  The detectives exchanged glances. “Well, ah, technically, she’s not formally charged,” Detective Davis finally said.

  “Are there plans to formally charge her?” Buddy asked matter-of-factly.

  “Well, we’re working on that,” the other detective said.

  Buddy tossed his notepad back in his briefcase and stood up. “Here’s my card,” he said, tossing it on the table. “Call us when you get some charges.” He extended his hand toward Rachel. She looked uneasy, but took it as he helped her stand, then led her toward the door.

  “Are we just going to leave?” she whispered.

  “We’re not done questioning her,” Detective Davis said.

  “Yes, you are.” Buddy swung the door open and walked out.

  “Don’t leave town, because this isn’t over,” the other detective called out behind them.

  “Are we really leaving?” Rachel asked as she scurried behind him toward the front door.

  “We sure are,” he said, without breaking his stride. He walked with an air of confidence that was empowering.

  “We can do that?”

  “Yep.”

  Rachel expected one of the officers to tackle them before they reached the door, but no one said a word as they walked out the front of the building. Buddy’s confidence was overwhelming. She hadn’t even thought that she could just get up and leave.

  Buddy directed her to his Mercedes Benz, one of the huge models that one would expect a man like him to drive.

  “So they’re not going to come after us?” Rachel asked once they were both seated in the car.

  “I checked before I came in. They were done with their questioning. Probably just wanted to keep you in there to scare you into confessing.”

  “I don’t have anything to confess to.”

  He shrugged like that was irrelevant. “Well, unless they had some formal charges, they had no right to keep you there.”

  “But wasn’t I under arrest?”

  “Not technically.”

  “But they read me my Miranda rights.”

  “They do that just to cover their bases. But if there are no formal charges against you, there’s nothing they can do once they question you.”

  Rachel sat back as he pulled his big-bodied Benz out of the handicapped parking spot. The whole show at the church, all the cop cars, and she wasn’t even technically under arrest?

  “Wow, well, uh, thank you,” Rachel finally managed to say.

  “Don’t thank me. Thank Mae Frances.” He smiled as genuine memories filled his mind. “That woman means the world to me. My godfather was crazy about some Mae Frances. And so was I.”

  That was hard for Rachel to imagine. Still, she asked, “Who’s your godfather?”

  “Al Sharpton.” He didn’t notice the stunned expression on Rachel’s face as he shook off his nostalgia. “Enough of that. I’ll get busy on your case first thing in the morning.”

  Rachel nodded. “Where are we going now?”

  “Back to the hotel. Not much else we can do tonight.”

  “I want to go home.”

  He shook his head like that wasn’t an option. “I wouldn’t advise that just yet. You leaving town could make them think you’re fleeing.”

  “I’m not fleeing. I just want to go home,” she protested.

  “And you will. As soon as we get this mess cleaned up.”

  She sighed in frustration. “I need to get my rental car. My purse, everything is in there.”

  “Got my staff working on that now,” he replied. “They’re going to go pick it up from the impound and have it delivered to your hotel. I’ve already talked to your husband. I told him to just wait for us at your hotel.”

  Rachel leaned back in her seat. At least this man was on top of things. And for all his over-the-top looks, Rachel definitely felt like she was in capable hands with Buddy Clemons.

  Twenty minutes later, Rachel walked into the hotel suite and was greeted at the door by her husband.

  “Oh, my God, Rachel,” he said, throwing his arms around her neck before she could get all the way inside.

  “Are you okay?” He pulled back and inspected her like she was just returning from war.

  “Yeah, I’m just exhausted. It’s been a crazy day. But I really am okay.”

  “What in the world happened?” he asked, touching her face. He looked genuinely relieved and she had never been so happy to see her husband.

  “Baby, it’s been a nightmare. I don’t know how I got caught up in the middle of all of this, but I’m just happy to be out of that godforsaken place.” She glanced back at Jasmine, who was standing behind Lester.

  “Hey, you all right?” Jasmine asked.

  Rachel nodded appreciatively. “Thanks to you.”

  Then Jasmine shocked Rachel when she reached around to hug her. Even Lester looked surprised by the exchange, although a small smile crept up on his face.

  Buddy cleared his throat. Rachel had forgotten he was standing behind her.

  “Well, I hate to break up this reunion,” he began, “but I need to go check up on some things. Something about this whole thing isn’t sitting right, and Buddy Clemons won’t rest until he gets to the bottom of it.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Clemons. So much,” Lester said. “Can I take my wife back to Houston now?”

  “Well, that wouldn’t be a good idea. At least not until we work all of this out and figure out what’s going on.”

  “Are they charging her with anything? The news said she was picked up for questioning.”

  “We should know that in the morning. I’ll meet with the D.A. first thing and we’ll try to get some answers for you, but it wouldn’t look good if she got on a plane going home.”

  “Okay,” Lester said as he reached into his pocket and removed his checkbook. “What’s your retainer? We want to make sure you’re taken care of.”

  Buddy held his hand up to stop Lester. “Don’t you worry about a thing. Any friend of Mae Frances’s is a friend of mine.”

  Wow, Rachel thought. Mae Frances really was the business.

  Lester smiled in appreciation, then dropped his checkbook back in his pocket. “Well, thank you. Let me walk you downstairs, because I have a few questions.”

  Rachel was sure her husband wanted to hear from Buddy exactly what had gone down. As much as Lester loved her, Rachel knew he didn’t completely trust that she would tell him everything.

  Rachel couldn’t even think about that right now. She just wanted to get in that Jacuzzi tub, take a bath, find something in the minibar to help her calm her nerves, and rest for the rest of the night.

  “So you’re really okay?” Jasmine asked once the two men had left the room.

  Rachel released a long sigh. “I am. Thank you for having Buster come over.”

  “Who is Buster?”

  “The wino. He said his name was Buster Brown.”

  Jasmine chuckled. “I told him to use a fake name. I guess that’s the best he could come up with. I should’ve known.” She paused a minute, then said, “Sorry I didn’t come over myself but . . .”

  Rachel held up her hand to cut her off. “No need to apologize or explain because I would’ve done the same thing.”

  They exchanged smiles, then Jasmine added, “So, you really can’t leave town?”

  Rachel plopped down on the plush sofa in the suite. It felt so good to sink into something soft, rather than perching on that uncomfortable chair she’d just spent the last five hours sitting in.

  “Buddy said that I shouldn’t. And honestly, I thought about doing it anyway. But these thugs are no joke. Even if I leave, the last thing I need is them showing up on my doorstep, messing with my family. I’m still trying to figure out why they’re even after me.”

  Jasmine slid onto the sofa. Rachel could tell her mind was whirling.

  “But why would she try to set me up?”

 
; “Cecelia doesn’t like losing and she lost big-time. I can see her not resting until she redeemed herself.”

  “Well, we’ve got to figure this out. I just wish I had some idea of how we can figure out who the real girlfriend is. Did you find out anything inside the church?”

  “Nothing except the fact that Cecelia is all up in this.”

  “It just seems that by now, a girlfriend would’ve come out of the woodwork or something. You would think there would be a girlfriend somewhere crying, something.”

  “I don’t know,” Jasmine said. “Maybe there isn’t even a girlfriend.”

  The whole thing was making Rachel’s head hurt. She wished she could turn back the hands of time. She would’ve let Jasmine have her moment on Oprah and they wouldn’t be smack dab in the middle of an episode of CSI. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing,” Rachel said.

  “We have been over this backward and forward and it’s been a long day,” Jasmine replied. She patted Rachel’s knee. “You should rest. I have to go pick up Mae Frances from the airport, anyway.”

  Rachel smiled at the mention of Mae Frances’s name. “I guess I can’t give her a hard time anymore.”

  Jasmine stood. “I guess you can’t. As you see from Buddy Clemons, she’s no joke.”

  “Yeah, I gotta give the old lady credit.” Rachel sat straight up in her seat, snapping her fingers. “Old lady! That’s it!”

  Jasmine’s eyes issued a stern warning. “I would advise you not to call her an old lady when she gets here.”

  Rachel waved her off. “No, no. I’m not talking about Mae Frances.” She jumped up and became animated. “Remember when we went to Pastor Griffith’s apartment and I helped that old lady put her stuff back in her purse?”

  Jasmine nodded. “Yeah, what about her?”

  “She said someone had run past her and knocked her over. Maybe it was the real killer. Maybe she can help identify that person.”

  Jasmine looked unsure before saying, “Or maybe she can pinpoint you even more by confirming that you were at the apartment when he died.”

  “Dangit,” Rachel said. She paced back and forth for a moment. Something told her this old lady was key. “Okay, well then. You go talk to her.”