“It’s nice,” he told her rubbing his hand over the name plate with the initials M. M. prominently displayed. “Thank you. I really do like it.”
“I’m glad you’re pleased,” she said sliding her fingers over the supple black leather. She pried the briefcase from his hand and pulled his arm around her waist. She’d missed him more over the last few weeks than she ever had before. The nagging tug inside had become commonplace.
“Maxwell, we need to talk,” she whispered in his ear as though she didn’t want anyone else to hear. She pinched her eyelids shut tightly, kissed Maxwell on the cheek, and then relinquished her hold on him. She stared into his gaze. “I don’t like the way we left things a few weeks ago.” She’d laced her fingers into his.
“We’re fine. The airplane ordeal had you a little edgy that night. Don’t worry about it.”
“It was more than that. My priorities have changed. I want something more than just a great career. I’m tired of my constant companion being the work I take home every night.” Nicole glanced away from Maxwell, swallowed the sharp bite in her voice and modestly asked, “Can we finish the conversation we started at the restaurant? We just left things up in the air. I have to know where our relationship is headed.” She nestled into the corner of the sofa, not sure what to expect.
“Things between us have always been smooth. No bumps. We haven’t pushed or pulled each other. Things have gone along fine. We’ve both been comfortable with what we have. I still don’t see the need to redefine who we are to each other,” he told her and slid away.
“The truth is we’ve both been complacent,” Nicole retorted. “But that’s over. I’m simply not satisfied with what we have. That’s not hard to understand. It’s not like we just started dating last year. Relationships progress; they go to the next level,” Nicole stated firmly with her eyelids widened and both palms turned up toward the ceiling.
“Nicole, I can’t tell the future any more than you can. What I know right now is that I’m working on a case that consumes me. That’s not going to change anytime soon. I’ve invested, what feels like, a lifetime getting to the brink of something this big. I can’t risk being distracted. I have got to stay on track.” He rested his arm across the back of the sofa allowing his fingertips to brush over Nicole’s hand. “You’ve always understood my business.”
“A distraction? That’s what I am to you, a distraction?” she shouted, standing up and walking over to the stone-framed fireplace. She picked up a crystal scale Maxwell received from the Mid-Atlantic Legal Association. The scale was balanced to the right side of justice. He was focused; the award said so. He’d been nothing but focused since she’d met him. Didn’t he want more than work? Didn’t every sane person at some point? Nicole swung her body around like a spinning top to face him.
“I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to call you a distraction. I just meant we’re both really busy.” Maxwell went to Nicole as she returned the award to its spot on the mantle. “You know I care for you, right?” He lifted her chin with his fingertip forcing their gazes to connect.
“What I know for sure is that I want a relationship with a future. I want to know we’re working toward a commitment.” She wanted her words to be firm and not soggy with emotion. Yet, her feelings were pouring over each word with frustration and sentiment starting to prick at her tear ducts, but not for long. Nicole was intent on staying poised. “Maxwell, if this relationship isn’t going anywhere, maybe we need to end it. There’s no sense in wasting time. God knows we’re both too busy for that, right?”
Maxwell drew Nicole into his arms. “Let’s take a breath to think about this before we make any heavy decisions.”
The antique grandfather clock chimed eleven times signaling the end of this round. It was another draw, with no winner declared. Nicole didn’t have any idea what was next for her and Maxwell. She retreated to a neutral position, breaking his hold on her. Nicole walked past the arm of the sofa and swooped up her jacket with no pause in her stride. Without looking back, she hurled two empty words at Maxwell: “Good night.”
Chapter 23
It was the middle of the week and Maxwell was working from home. He was hard at work though his day had gotten off to a slow start. He hadn’t gone for his morning jog yet which had him slightly out of sorts. Many of his great legal strategies had been birthed on the jogging path. On his way to the kitchen for a second cup of coffee, his cell phone rang drawing Maxwell back to his office. Two more rings and he grabbed the phone from his desk without looking at the caller ID. “Maxwell speaking.”
“Hey, it’s Garrett. Can you meet me?”
“Sure, what’s going on? You sound anxious.”
“We need to talk. Things are heating up. What time should I swing by the office?” Garrett asked.
“I’m at home today.”
“Maxwell Montgomery, taking a day off. That’s a shocker.”
“It’s not a day off, believe me. I woke up with a headache that just subsided a couple hours ago. I’m trying to get some work done now, but give me an idea of what’s going on.”
“Let’s just say secrets are crawling out of their hiding places.”
“Wow, how soon can you be here?”
“I’m on my way.”
Maxwell pressed down on the end button hard and walked to the window in his office. He squinted at the bright sunlight that poured into the room as he opened the blinds. His gaze stretched past the patio, across the lawn, landing on his pool. It wasn’t used much, but Maxwell enjoyed the clear water dancing with colors painted by the sun. As the water fought against the sides of the pool, Maxwell felt a legal storm brewing. He stared out the window another few minutes then hurried upstairs and took a quick shower.
Just as Maxwell fastened the last button on his collared shirt, the doorbell rang. He slipped on his brown leather loafers and went downstairs to answer the door. “Come in, Garrett. You weren’t kidding when you said you were on your way.”
“Time is money. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”
“I guess I do. It’s something I used to hear my father say often.” Maxwell briefly caught himself thinking about the past, about his father, and pulled himself out of the cloud called yesterday. “Let’s go into the kitchen. Would you like some coffee?”
“Sure, coffee will definitely work.” On their way to the kitchen Garrett pointed at a painting hanging over the fireplace. “Is this new?”
“Man, you don’t miss anything.”
“That’s my job,” Garrett replied while chuckling.
“It’s a John Holyfield original. Let’s just say it was a trophy for winning the case against Reverend Morgan.”
“Sweet.”
“Have a seat.” Maxwell poured Garrett a cup of coffee and placed it on a coaster in front of him. “Now, what’s going on? What secrets were you referring to earlier?”
“Actually, I’d like to hear how your meetings with the folks on the list have been going. Then what I have to tell you will be even sweeter.”
Maxwell rubbed his index finger underneath his chin. “Really, okay, okay, I’ll go along for the ride. This must really be good,” he said taking a sip of his coffee. “Okay, well, I met with the last person on the list yesterday. My hunch was right. There is no doubt that the expansion of Greater Metropolitan has come at the expense of landowners who were swindled out of fair market value.” Maxwell became restless. He got up and paced the floor as he told Garrett the details. “The first former landowner used to live right next to the church. He lost his lot and adjoining restaurant due to an alleged rezoning project. Everyone I spoke with had basically the same story. They were forced out. Rezoning swallowed up all the small businesses.”
“What’s your gut telling you about this project?” Garrett took a gulp of his coffee.
Maxwell slapped his palms together. “Councilman Chambers is behind this. I know it, but where’s the paper trail leading to him or the bishop?” Maxwell poured another cup of c
offee and leaned against the breakfast bar, crossing his ankles. “We’ve officially got grounds for a legal battle, but we’ve got to establish a strategy.” He set his cup down after taking a sip.
“Let’s do it,” Garrett interjected.
“I’ll start by recruiting the landowners and pitch them on a class action lawsuit.”
“There is strength in numbers,” Garrett stated.
“True, but the more people we get involved the more things can go wrong.”
“Looks like it’s a risk you’ll have to take on this one.”
“Looks like it.” Maxwell took another sip of coffee, cautiously tasting victory on the horizon. “Okay, so tell me what you have?” Maxwell asked as he regained a seat at the kitchen table across from Garrett.
“The information is hot; fire and brimstone, man, fire and brimstone.” Maxwell could barely contain himself, like a starving dog waiting to be fed. Garrett continued. “You know I spent some time over the last few weeks checking out Greater Metropolitan and some of the bishop’s staff. I attended a few church events including Sunday morning worship.” Garrett flipped open a leather portfolio. “One of the ministers, Simmons, is definitely someone we want to know more about. I found out one of the six positions on the pastoral staff will be vacant soon. He wants to be promoted to assistant pastor. Simmons definitely has his eyes on the prize.” Garrett stabbed the notepad with his ink pen. “From what I can tell, he’s willing to do anything to get it. I overheard two men talking at the church about the bishop needing something done. If they weren’t able to make it happen, they said Simmons would get it done.”
“Simmons, huh? I haven’t heard much about him,” Maxwell stated.
“Well, there’s plenty you need to know.” Garrett pulled a five-by-seven photo of Simmons from his portfolio and pushed it across the table to Maxwell. “He’s been spending a lot of time with this single mother named Jill. From what I can tell, she has two young boys. She’s on disability for some type of back injury and started attending Greater Metropolitan about six months ago. That’s all I have right now, but you can believe I will get more very soon.”
Maxwell slapped his palms together hard, making a loud noise. “I can see it all coming together,” Maxwell exclaimed.
“There’s one more thing I discovered that you should know.” Maxwell perked up listening closely. “I think you might want to take a closer look at the folks you have on staff.”
“What are you talking about?” Garrett closed his portfolio and leaned forward on the table with his arms folded. “Spit it out, man. What are you trying to tell me?” Maxwell demanded.
Garrett slumped hard in the chair and released the revelation. “Your paralegal is a member of Greater Metropolitan Church.”
Chapter 24
Maxwell surveyed the row of brick buildings as he parked in front of one. He pulled his sleeve up to see his watch. It wasn’t quite four o’clock yet. Garrett was usually early. Maxwell leaned his head against the headrest and closed his eyes. His body was weary as his thoughts continued running a marathon in his mind. What was the next move? Had he missed anything in drafting the documents that would be the cornerstone of his case against the bishop? Was there someone else he should talk with who he didn’t yet know about? His thoughts began overtaking him. He couldn’t become overwhelmed and overlook key details. Not a single fact could be dropped on this case. Every drop of information had to be recorded. Maxwell took both hands and pulled them slowly down his face, tossing out the concern that plagued him.
The sound of a car door slamming behind Maxwell drew his gaze toward the rearview mirror. He got out of his car and walked toward Garrett while loosening his tie slightly.
“Glad you could meet me on such short notice,” Garrett said.
“This is too important not to make myself available. You say the word day or night, and I’m there,” Maxwell affirmed. “So, what do you have for me?”
Garrett stepped onto the curb. “Remember those dilapidated buildings you found out Bishop Jones and Chambers were so concerned about? Well, here they are.” Garrett pointed at a row of buildings. “That multilevel one, the second one from the corner is going to be a low-income housing unit.” Garrett stretched out his arm and pointed his index finger at the building garnering Maxwell’s attention. “The other brick building on the corner is earmarked as a safe haven for children on the street.”
“That’s all good, but there has to be something strange going on here,” Maxwell commented.
“What do you mean?” Garrett asked.
“I can see one or two buildings but the whole block? Look at the buildings in this area, not a decent one in the bunch. Jones will have to throw a boatload of cash at this to get these buildings renovated.”
“Funny you should say that. Word on the street is that he is totally committed to this project. Apparently, he wants to restore the community around his church. Maybe his intentions aren’t all bad,” Garrett suggested pushing his hands down into his pants pockets.
“You can’t be serious. The only thing Jones is sincerely concerned with is how quickly he can get his mega ministry vision completed, and how deep he can line his pockets in the process.”
“Whatever the driving force is for him, he’s pressing his way forward. He’s doing whatever it takes to make it happen. He’s already filed the necessary paperwork with the city to classify the units as low-income housing and a safe haven for troubled youth on the street. Both are key buzzwords for this community. He’s bound to get funding and get this project off the ground. Of course, the zoning for both has to be approved. Somehow, I doubt that will present a problem for the bishop,” Garrett told Maxwell staring at the properties again.
“He definitely knows somebody, and I doubt if it’s God.” Maxwell walked across the street with Garrett following. He walked up the front steps of the building that would be the low-income housing unit. He turned the doorknob and pushed, but the locked door wouldn’t allow him entrance. Maxwell yanked the tie from around his neck. He unbuttoned the top of his shirt and turned to Garrett. “I refuse to believe there is any goodwill or genuine civic duty driving this project. I need you to dig deeper. There has got to be deeper reason for his trumped-up interest in this housing concept and a safe haven or safe house, whatever it is he wants to call it. I want to know what that reason is. I want to know everything about Bishop Ellis Jones.” Maxwell pressed two fingers together, keeping them just a fraction of an inch apart. “As a matter of fact, I want you to be so explicit with the details surrounding Jones that you can tell me what he had for breakfast yesterday and the last words he said to his wife before they went to bed last night.”
“Okay, I got you, man. I got you,” Garrett said surrendering and lifting both palms into the air.
“Maybe Bishop Jones is getting government subsidies for the buildings. Federal funds and government fraud means automatic prosecution.” Excitement clung to Maxwell’s words and hung in the air. His gaze widened as he nodded up and down.
“That’s a great angle to check out,” Garrett stated.
“I wouldn’t put that past the good bishop at all. Do what you do, my friend. Do what you do best. I’m counting on you.” Maxwell patted Garrett on the shoulder as they walked down the steps and toward their cars. He looked back at the buildings envisioning when the walls would come tumbling down around Bishop Jones. Maxwell would be right there, up close to witness the reaction.
Maxwell drove to his office and picked up some files he’d forgotten. The workday was probably over for most folks in his building, but not for him. He would go home, kick off his shoes, and keep working on the case. Just as he was locking the door, a voice from behind paralyzed him.
“Hi, Mr. Montgomery,” Sonya greeted him as she walked closer.
Maxwell squeezed the keys in his hand so hard, they left ridged imprints in the palm of his hand. He turned responding, “What are you doing here?”
“I’m feeling much better
now. That bout with the stomach flu almost had me out. I wanted to come in this evening and get a jump on my work, since I’m sure there’s plenty to catch up on.”
“No, you won’t.” His voice was cold. His words were firm. “Let’s step into the office for a minute. We need to talk, and it won’t take long.” Maxwell didn’t wait for her response. He unlocked the door without turning on the lights and walked straight to his office. Only the security auxiliary lights and fading daylight lit the pathway.
Sonya followed Maxwell quietly. He placed his briefcase and keys on top of his desk. “Have a seat,” he told Sonya firmly, gesturing toward the chair in front of his desk. Maxwell traipsed the window and stared at people and traffic moving below. He wanted to calm himself before starting the conversation that had been simmering for days. He wondered if she would lie about her membership at Greater Metropolitan. Had she been a spy for Jones all along and just playing him in the process? He had to know.
Maxwell approached Sonya. He stopped at the corner of his desk and stood behind it singeing her with his piercing stare. “I don’t believe in beating around the bush. I’m sure you know that much about me.” She nodded in affirmation. “So, how long have you been a member of Bishop Jones’s church?” Maxwell kept his gaze locked, daring her to look away.
Sonya’s feet appeared to be pressed hard against the floor. Her hands dropped from the arm of the chair into her lap. He watched as she laced her fingers together, digging her nails into the back of each hand. “Mr. Montgomery, I’ve only been a member there for a little over a year. I wanted to tell—”
Maxwell cut her words off with the firm down stroke of his hand to the desk. “Do you think I’m a fool? You work in my firm, which gives you privileged access to information. You know I’m mounting a case against the pastor, and you’ve never said anything to me about your affiliation there. You didn’t think your membership at Greater Metropolitan would be of interest to me?” Maxwell placed both hands on the desk. Supporting his weight with his fingertips, he leaned closer to Sonya. “Just recently, I even reminded you of our confidentiality agreement. What have you told Jones? And you better not even try to lie.”
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