by H. H. Fowler
“Maybe the text didn’t come from a phone he’d purchased,” Richard said.
Mrs. Daxon stood up suddenly and replied, “I don’t believe the text was from Anwar at all.”
Richard simply asked, “Why?”
“Because my son has never called me ‘Mommy’. Maybe Mum, or Ma’am, but never ‘Mommy’. Ever since we heard of Jorge’s murder we have been on edge. I don’t think Anwar even knows that his friend has been killed.”
“And you say that because?”
“Anwar had already left the house when Jorge’s parents came over with the heartbreaking news,” Mr. Daxon said. “They had gotten a call and were instructed to go to the morgue to identify Jorge’s body.”
Richard raised his brows in surprise. He had been the one to call Jorge’s parents to deliver the news about their son, but he was not aware of the close connection between the two families. Had he known their person of interest was doors away from Jorge’s home, he would not have wasted time sending Karissa on a wild goose chase to collect unnecessary data. But he would keep silent about it.
“We assumed Anwar had gone to see Jorge,” Mr. Daxon was continuing to say. “Those two were always together. They had a little business making jewelry from conch shells and sometimes Anwar would spend the night over at Jorge’s house and would come home the following morning.”
Mrs. Daxon chimed back in, “So imagine how we felt when the news of Jorge’s murder hit and Anwar was nowhere to be found. We waited for him all night, but he never showed up.”
“Can we see the text?” Karissa asked.
“Sure.” Mr. Daxon pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. He located the text and then handed it over to Karissa. She read it out aloud for Richard’s benefit.
“I got tied up helping out a friend…so don’t worry your little head about me, Mommy. I’m fine…will be home soon.”
Karissa handed Mr. Daxon back his phone and asked, “Which friend is he helping out?”
Mr. Daxon shrugged. “We were confused by that, too, because Jorge was the only friend we knew Anwar to have.”
Richard sat up straight at that point. He was ready to chuck a question at the Daxons that had been burning at the back of his mind since he’d been invited into their home. “Do you know of any disagreement,” Richard began steadily, “that Jorge and Anwar might have had before you found out about Jorge’s death?”
“No, not that we know of,” Mr. Daxon replied. “Those two seemed to always get along.”
Richard held his firm stare with the Daxons. “Then you would have no idea why Jorge would write Anwar’s name in the dirt, literally seconds before he died?”
Mrs. Daxon looked flustered, maybe even shocked that the detective would ask her a question like that. She raised her voice a bit over the usual level. “What are you insinuating, sir? Our son could be missing – a possible victim of Jorge’s murderer and you’re making him out to be a suspect? It doesn’t make sense! You should be out there looking for Anwar!”
“Calm down, honey,” Mr. Daxon told his wife. “Anwar is not a victim of Jorge’s murderer –”
“You don’t know that!” Mrs. Daxon yelled. “He didn’t come home last night and Jorge is dead! You don’t need a Bachelor degree to make the connection. Get these detectives out of our home!”
“Honey…”
“Now! I’ll go to someone else for help!”
Mr. Daxon stared helplessly at the detectives. He, too, was curious to know why Jorge had written Anwar’s name in the dirt, but his wife wasn’t cooperating. Feeling the awkward shift in the atmosphere, both Richard and Karissa stood to their feet.
“It’s okay, Mr. Daxon,” Richard assured him, “we will leave now.”
The detectives hurried through the front door, their suspicion of Anwar now mounting. For Richard, there could only be one possible reason why Anwar didn’t come home last night. He had murdered Jorge and was trying to get away with it. A fugitive on the run for his life. He would make sure Anwar’s name and photo would be plastered all over the news stations.
“What is our next order of business?” Karissa asked as they were heading back to an unmarked police car.
“Let’s go and pay a visit to Bishop Gregory Beaufort,” Richard said pensively. “He has been avoiding all my calls and that seems very suspicious to me.”
Chapter Eight
That evening, Izaiah came over from the guesthouse to have his usual dinner. The Beaufort’s maid, Miss Rose shuffled around the gourmet kitchen. Seeing no one else, Izaiah assumed that he had arrived too early. He wondered if he should go back to the guesthouse and return in twenty minutes, because he did not want to get in Miss Rose’s way. The rotund maid was loud and bubbly, always interested in bending a conversation about his unmarried status. That alone made Izaiah want to escape. He did not want to talk about his love life with anyone because as it stood now, there was nothing to be excited about.
Going against his better judgment, Izaiah pulled out a chair at the dining table and sat down. Miss Rose spun around at the intrusion, although the noise had been minimal. She rested the pan of ribs on the stove and then wiped her hands on a grease-spattered rag.
“Good evening to you, too, Mr. Cahoon,” Miss Rose bellowed. “You tryin’ to give me a heart attack, sneakin’ in here like that?”
Izaiah smiled bashfully and said, “I’m sorry; I didn’t want to disturb you.”
Miss Rose fanned him off. “You’ve been stayin’ here for six weeks and you still fear me. What happen? I too ugly for you to say hi?”
“Oh, leave him alone, you wretched old woman!”
Miss Rose craned her neck to the left and spotted a pair of female legs in fishnet stockings. The checkered skirt she wore was provocatively hitched four inches above her knees. Miss Rose knew only one person in the Beaufort household that dressed that way and got away with it. It had to be Candi Beaufort.
“My heavens!” Miss Rose exclaimed. She wobbled over to Candi and tossed her thick arms around her, pulling her into a bear hug. “What a surprise this is! Don’t go away from us again for so long, you hear me?”
Candi rolled her eyes playfully. “Rose, it was only a six-month course. I’m hell on wheels, remember? I thought you would be happy to get rid of me for a little while.”
Miss Rose released her death grip and responded with a smirk. “Little girl, you stop with that nonsense. I love havin’ you around – just like the rest of your family. When did you get in?”
“This morning,” Candi said. “But I went to see Mummy at the hospital and then I had some other runs to make.”
Miss Rose’s joyous laughter turned grim all of a sudden at the thought of almost losing her boss lady. “God is good,” she remarked and then used her thumb and index fingers to demonstrate a point. “The doctor said we came this close to losing your mother.”
“Daddy told me. That’s why I cut my time short in Cayman. I had to be here.” Candi turned around to acknowledge Izaiah’s presence. The whole time she’d been quite aware that he was behind her, imagining him looking at her nice, firm butt. “Well, hello. I hope you didn’t feel left out of the conversation.”
Izaiah smiled, revealing that perfectly-set dimple in his left cheek. “Naw, please, carry on. I would not be much of a conversationalist tonight anyway.”
“Ooh, such a big word for a small problem. What’s weighing on your mind, sweetie? Let Candi take care of it. My room or yours?”
Izaiah couldn’t hide his incredulous expression after hearing Candi’s response. He marveled at her ability to quickly switch from one emotion to the next. He was not sure if his mother was in a hospital, recovering from a gunshot wound that he would be so flirtatious with someone he had just met.
“Izaiah,” Candi giggled. “I was only joking. You don’t have to look so shocked.”
“Wow, am I that transparent?”
“Yes, but it’s kinda cute.” Candi turned her attention back to Miss Rose for the moment. �
�Where is everybody?”
“Mr. Beaufort called and said that he will be late,” Rose answered. “Asia and Dallis are locked up in their rooms.”
“Don’t bother them,” Candi said. “Just fix two plates. I’m sure Izaiah doesn’t mind me joining him.”
Candi winked at Izaiah, which generated a nervous smile from him. Her miniskirt swayed gently as she made her way toward him. She went to the opposite side of the table and pulled out a chair. She loved to look men directly in their eyes during conversation, especially the fine-looking ones. Also, she needed to discern the level of lust in Izaiah’s gaze – to see if she needed to work harder than expected.
“So,” Candi smirked with her hands under her chin. “Tell me all about Izaiah Cahoon.”
Izaiah was not one to back down from a stare. “Well, what do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
“Wow...where do I start?”
“That’s easy. Are you seeing someone?”
Izaiah chuckled. “You are nothing like your sisters, are you? I’ve been here six weeks and have not been asked that question by either of them.”
“Because they are silly little girls who don’t know what they want. I am older than them, by the way. Whatever Asia and Dallis learned about men, they got it from me.”
Somehow Izaiah didn’t believe that, because he was wary of her intentions already. He subtly glanced at Miss Rose in the kitchen and wondered why she was taking so long to bring the food, even though she had just left to gather it up. Izaiah could sense where this conversation was going.
“Let me back up a bit,” he said, hoping to offset Candi’s game. “First and foremost, I am a Christian –”
“So am I,” Candi interrupted, a smile suggesting she knew what Izaiah was trying to do. “I was ordained a minister years ago. I have the ministerial license to prove it. But please, do continue.”
Izaiah smirked. He would hope Candi didn’t mount the pulpit showing all her legs in such a provocative manner. The congregants – especially the men – would be distracted from the holy Word of God.
“Well, I was going to say that I have devoted my life to helping young people realize their true potential.”
“Awwww, how sweet.”
“I’m serious,” Izaiah said. “It’s one of the reasons why I applied for the youth minister position in Bliss Haven. During the interview with your father, he explained to me that he needed someone to help revive the youth department of St. Donovan’s Chapel.”
Candi tilted her head in jest. “And you think that you are the right man for the job?”
“With God, all things are possible.”
“I bet you have an answer for everything.”
“Why do you say that? I thought I was simply responding to your question.”
Candi narrowed her eyes at Izaiah and then leaned across the table to rest her hand on his arm. “Very smart, Mr. Cahoon. I must give you that. But you don’t want to contend with me because I could trap you in your own words.”
Asia walked in and caught Candi rubbing Izaiah’s arm. The scene caused her brows to knit in confusion. “Well, you two got pretty close rather quickly,” she said.
Izaiah jumped at Asia’s voice. He didn’t see her come in. “I was just telling your sister about my passion for the young people,” he explained as he pulled his arm away from Candi.
“I don’t need an explanation,” Asia said. “It is quite obvious that Candi is very fond of you.”
I would prefer that you were fond of me, Izaiah wanted to say, but instead he said, “Come on, we just met today. It’s too little time for Candi to make a proper assessment of who I am.”
“You don’t know my sister,” Asia said stiffly. “When it comes to men, she’s ferocious.”
Candi cut in, clearing her throat. “Well, hello, I haven’t left the table. Besides that, I’m grown and I can speak for myself.”
“As if anyone could stop you,” Asia retorted and then moved toward Miss Rose, who was coming around the bend with a tray of food in her hand. Asia took off a plate and continued walking toward her bedroom.
“Asia, why don’t you stay?” Izaiah called after her.
“Because three is a crowd,” she shouted back. “And I hadn’t planned on staying anyway.”
“Something’s really eating at that girl,” Candi said, returning her gaze to Izaiah. “Asia is normally the nicest one.”
“You really don’t have any idea, do you?”
“About what?”
“About Jorge Bentley,” Miss Rose filled in. She rested the tray of food on the table and stood back with her hand to her side. “Poor fellow was killed three days ago.”
Candi looked at Miss Rose with a bit of incredulity. “Are you talking about Asia’s little experiment from St. Elmo’s Valley?”
Izaiah frowned. “Experiment?”
“Yes, I refer to Jorge as Asia’s experiment, because there was no way Daddy was going to let her marry him – especially after catching them in toolshed together.”
It took about two seconds for Izaiah to understand what Candi had just said. “By together you mean?”
“They were on the floor makin’ out,” Miss Rose clarified. “It was not a pretty sight and up to this day, Asia won’t forgive me for tellin’ Mr. Beaufort about it. But it was for her own good. I would be the first to say that that boy didn’t deserve to be murdered, but he was leading her straight to hell.”
Izaiah’s heart plummeted to his feet. He sensed that Asia was really into Jorge, but he hadn’t any idea that she’d already given her body to him. An incredible surge of jealousy came over him. How stupid of him to expect that Asia would ever be interested in anyone other than Jorge. Her heart was already taken. No wonder Gregory was so incensed over the relationship between those two. They were having sex right under his nose – in the toolshed, of all places. No good father, especially a renowned bishop would want that for his daughter.
“Don’t look so ashen,’ Candi said to Izaiah. “Asia is not as innocent as you think.”
“I didn’t get that impression,” Izaiah said, feeling more hurt than he expected to be.
“Well, we can all be good actors,” Candi said. “Asia emailed me a picture of Jorge while I was in Cayman. He was not particularly good looking, but for some reason, she found him interesting.” Candi shook her head as the realization of Jorge’s death settled in. “I can see why she is walking around with a chip on her shoulder. But, who would want to kill Jorge?”
Miss Rose sighed heavily and said, “Now, that’s the million-dollar question.”
Izaiah barely tuned in as the women hypothesized the mystery of Jorge’s murder. He could tell them that Gregory was the number one suspect on Asia’s list, but he preferred to leave and go back to the guesthouse. The news of Asia’s little ‘roll in the hay’ with Jorge had taken away his appetite. It would be better for him to stay focused on the job Gregory had hired him to do as youth minister and not get his emotions tied up in Asia. He stood and mumbled “good evening” to the women.
“Leaving so soon?” Candi questioned.
“Remember, I told you I wouldn’t be much of a conversationalist tonight.”
“But we were getting along just fine. Why the sudden change?”
“Another time, maybe…thank you.”
Candi watched Izaiah strut away until he disappeared down the hall. She turned her attention back to Miss Rose, but not without a smirk on her face. She was satisfied over Izaiah’s reaction. It was not hard to discern that Izaiah was smitten with her sister. However, whatever little feelings he’d had for Asia, Candi was certain that she had destroyed it by stretching the truth about Asia’s character. No decent man wanted to hear that the woman they’re interested in appeared to be ‘loose’ with her morals. Strike One.
Chapter Nine
Early the following morning – day five of Dana’s stint in the hospital, Gregory called a meeting with his property attendants. They
were not ordinary men, but men secretly hired by the organization to protect the Beauforts’ property. They were provided with weapons and were given orders to ‘shoot to kill’ – if the need arose. Gregory didn’t trust them. He had an uncanny feeling that Jorge had unluckily fallen into their path. He watched the three burly men file into his office, one behind the other, looking as if they were on steroids. They each casually took one of the seats Gregory had spread out in front of him.
“Gentlemen,” Gregory began somberly. “I think this meeting is overdue. Over the last month or so, we’ve had a number of occurrences that I find hard to categorize as ‘coincidental’. But I will forego the list because Jorge is dead and I want to know who killed him. Any of one you can enlighten me on what took place.”
The men smirked, completely unmoved by Gregory’s piercing gaze. “We have no idea of what you are talking about,” one of them said.
“I had nothing to do with that boy’s murder,” Gregory huffed. “My daughter said she saw a black limo ride up next to Jorge and shoot him twice.”
“I don’t get it.”
Gregory retorted sarcastically. “What don’t you get, stupid? Don’t you drive a black limo?”
“Yeah, but there are at least a dozen limos on this island that look just like the one we drive. It could have been anyone who killed that vagrant. I believe your daughter is a little riled up about this unfortunate circumstance.”
“Do you blame her? Thank God she didn’t get the license plate number or else the police would have had this compound on lock down.”
Another one of the men shrugged and said, “Which would have been a complete waste of time. We didn’t do anything.”
“Where is the limo?”
“Parked outside the gate.”
“Get rid of it before Asia connects the dots.”
