“Relax, Sonya. You’re not in trouble. I’m curious about something else. Why did you start attending Bishop Jones’s church in the first place?”
Sonya looked down briefly, rubbed her palms together and told Maxwell the truth. “I used to attend Rising Star. When I realized you were investigating the pastor, I started asking around about a good church that was involved in the community and really cared about its members. I kept hearing about this wonderful ministry and dynamic pastor. Greater Metropolitan is big and very well known in the community. It has lots of young adults and a decent singles’ ministry. Believe me, those are hard to find,” she said feeling livelier. “They have a rocking choir, too,” she added. “A close family friend invited me to visit. I went one Sunday and three months later I became a member.” Sonya quickly let the enthusiasm in her voice and the gleam in her eyes fade away when she noticed the frown plastered on Maxwell’s face. “Joining seemed like a good idea.”
“Was there anything you liked about Bishop Jones, specifically, as a pastor?”
“I like his messages, and he was always down to earth.” Sonya wasn’t sure why Maxwell was questioning her. She’d left the church. Wasn’t that enough? She crossed her legs, rested her elbow on the arm of the chair and hoped her answer hadn’t antagonized her boss. His silence suggested more explanation was warranted. “I also liked how fondly he spoke about his family, especially his wife.”
“So, you think they have a decent marriage?”
“From what I can tell, they’ve been together a lot of years.” Sonya stared at her boss. “Mr. Montgomery, the truth is I don’t know what you have on him, but Bishop Jones seems like a good man and a great preacher.”
“People aren’t always who they appear to be. We can’t just overlook the wrong he’s done.”
Sonya maintained visual contact as she spoke in a low voice, “May I ask you a question?”
“Sure, what is it?” Maxwell swung his chair side-to-side a couple of times, tapping two fingers on the desk and glaring right into Sonya’s eyes.
“Why are you so determined to bring down Bishop Jones? What has he done that’s so terrible?”
Maxwell looked away from Sonya briefly. “He’s done terrible things to a lot of people. You obviously don’t know much about his background.”
“No, I guess I don’t, but I know we all make mistakes and if God can forgive us, why can’t we forgive each other?”
The word “forgive” pulled Maxwell right up out of his seat. He walked toward the windows and turned the handle opening one of the glass panels. He stood there for a few seconds allowing the cool breeze of early summer to rush in and wash over him before responding. Glaring out the window, Maxwell had something to say. “He’s not only hurt individuals; Bishop Jones has also destroyed many families without caring two hoots about them.” Maxwell moved over to his desk, sat on the corner of it and picked up a stress ball, which he hadn’t held in quite a while.
“I don’t know anything about that, but he’s human. Humans make mistakes.”
“I’m not buying it. Church leaders have to be held to a higher level of accountability and integrity. And, in order for someone to be forgiven, they would have to acknowledge their indiscretion and then ask for forgiveness.” He tossed the ball into the air and snatched it down, quickly smashing it as flat as possible between both hands.
“I’m not used to this coming from you. This case seems so personal for you. You’re always so matter-of-fact about things.” Sonya shifted in her chair.
“Let’s just say you know one man, and I know another,” he said slamming his fist on the desk.
“I don’t understand, and I’m not trying to pry. It’s just that your attachment to this case seems more intense than normal.”
“For the record, Bishop Jones had a very direct impact on a family I once knew very well. He was Pastor Jones back then. The family was totally committed to him and the church. They trusted him. You know how he repaid their trust?”
“No.”
“Well, Jones took their hard-earned money and squandered it away in an investment scheme. The church treasurer invested his children’s college fund; even put his house up for collateral to help finance the venture. When it failed some people lost everything they had. The treasurer took the rap and ended up losing his house, self-respect, and he even his freedom. He spent five years in prison for fraud and his wife did six months.”
“That’s awful.”
“Jones didn’t serve a single day in jail even though it was his program.”
Sonya didn’t respond. The imprint of Maxwell’s fingernails covered the stress ball. “The man’s children suffered the most. And, I know for a fact they are still feeling the devastation today. So, yes, I have a personal interest in this case.”
There was a knock on the office door.
Maxwell and Sonya stood as he invited the person in. Sonya walked toward the door, but the visitor came in before she got there. “It’s just me, Garrett. Hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“No, not at all. Sonya and I were just discussing Bishop Jones and his redeeming qualities.”
Garrett nodded hello at Sonya and responded to Maxwell, “I didn’t think you considered Bishop Jones to have any redeeming qualities.”
“Sonya was just trying to reform my thinking about Jones. She certainly seems to think he has some good in him somewhere.” Maxwell stifled a laugh by coughing into his fist as he held his head down and peered up at both Sonya and Garrett.
“Well, I’m not a fan of Bishop Jones, but he has gotten something done in the community that other folks couldn’t seem to make happen,” Garrett said. “I hear he’s serious about getting young people off the street. We all know that’s desperately needed.” Garrett raised his hands into the air, with palms up, scrunched his face and said, “I can’t say for sure, but maybe he does care a tiny bit about the community. He has definitely sponsored projects for the youth. That’s a fact. Now his funding methods may be questionable but you have to admit, he’s done some work.”
Sonya turned her head toward Maxwell. He saw her and intently restrained his comments.
“On that note, I’ll leave you gentlemen to hash that one out alone.”
“Ugh,” Maxwell moaned while shaking his clutched fists in the air. “I’ve heard quite enough about the admirable Bishop Jones and his good deeds.” Maxwell brushed his hand through the air making a sweeping motion to dismiss the dialogue.
Sonya pointed to her wrist. “Don’t forget, you have a client coming in at one-thirty.”
“Oh, shoot, thanks for reminding me.” Sonya closed the door behind her and it wasn’t too soon for Maxwell. He’d heard enough about Jones to gag. The bishop might fool Sonya and maybe even Garrett, but Maxwell knew better. He mellowed believing the truth would soon come out and Jones would be history.
Chapter 28
Maxwell and Garrett sat at the conference table and jumped into the business at hand. “I need you to work your magic and get me some information on Bishop Jones’s tax returns. If his hands are messy dealing with the church’s money, I’ll bet he’s just as dirty with his personal finances.”
Garrett frowned. “Sure you want to go there?”
“Without a doubt; I don’t want to miss anything that will speak to the bishop’s true character.” Maxwell slapped his hand down hard onto his thigh.
“Not a problem, I’ll get right on it. Give me a few days, and I’ll get back to you.”
Maxwell pulled a white envelope from his desk with Garrett’s name written across the front. He handed the letter-sized envelope to Garrett. “I appreciate your hard work and your discretion. You’ve never let me down,” he told Garrett patting him on the back.
“It’s not always easy work, but it pays well.” Garrett chuckled, tucking the envelope inside jacket pocket. “I’ll give you a call next week.”
He watched Garrett depart. Maxwell knew that somehow the information he’d asked
for would soon be in his hands. He sat down to finish the legal draft that had been started earlier. After rereading the last page of the document, he began writing. Maxwell couldn’t help but to dwell on his history with Bishop Jones and Sonya’s statement. She was right; the case was personal. He wrote Bishop Ellis Jones’s name, pressing down with so much force the pencil lead broke. He pressed on the top of the pencil with his thumb, demanding it produce new lead. He began writing again sensing the end was near. Maxwell stared at the words while memories tried holding him captive.
The sharp pitch of his ringing cell phone caused Maxwell’s body to jerk as it broke the heavy shackles. He grabbed up the phone silencing the ringer as he read the name across his screen. It was Christine. He wondered why she was calling. His work was pleading for progress. He could let the call go to voicemail, but his heart said maybe she needed something for his nephew. Maybe his father had gotten worse? There were many questions dancing around. He was torn about what to do. Family was a liability requiring too much risky emotional collateral, but he decided this was a call he had to take.
“Maxwell here,” he said, intentionally not sounding enthusiastic or familiar with her call.
“Well, miracles never cease. You answered the phone.”
Maxwell ignored her sarcasm while the corners of his mouth turned up. “What’s up?”
“Actually, things are pretty good. Dad is feeling better, and you know their fiftieth wedding anniversary is in two weeks. I’m giving them a surprise party.” Christine waited for a bit before continuing. “I’d like for you to come. It would mean so much to them if you were there. Please say yes.” More waiting ensued. Finally she added, “It’s been much too long since our family has been in the same room together. The party is Saturday, the twenty-fourth, at five o’clock. Please say you’ll come.”
Maxwell folded in his bottom lip and gritted his teeth. “Christine, no, I can’t make it. I’m under a tight deadline and there is no getting past it. I can’t make any commitments. I might even be out of town that week.”
“No is such an easy word for you to say when it comes to your family. You are the most stubborn person I know. Actually, I take that back. You and Dad are the two most stubborn. Sometimes I think you deserve one another. You’re so much like him and it drives me crazy. Ahh, I just want to scream at the two of you. For heaven’s sake, when are you going to let the past go?”
“What makes you think that it’s me?” Maxwell closed his eyelids and let her ranting continue. There wasn’t anything else he wanted to say.
“Because, I know it’s you and him too. You’re mad at him for what he did a long time ago. He’s mad at how you’re acting now. This is silly. Mom and I are caught in the middle. Come on. Who’s going to step up and be the man in this situation? We have to work this out as a family, before it’s too late. So, stop being a butt, Maxwell. Put your pride aside and do something.”
“Me, do something? You’re the one with the answers. You act like I’m the bad guy and that this is my doing.”
“I didn’t blame you, but you certainly have a share.”
“Christine, look, I don’t have time for this. I have more important issues.”
“Maxwell, when are you going to stop pretending that you don’t think about our parents? You act like you are totally removed from your family. That can’t be how you truly feel.” There was no point in answering. He just let her talk. “I know that you’ve been paying Dad’s medical bills. Mom and Dad know it too. It’s okay for you to care about us and for you to love our parents. You don’t have to pretend to be so coldhearted when I know you’re not.”
Maxwell sat straight up in his chair, reached for the pencil and legal pad. “Hey, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll send a nice gift to your house before the party. How is Tyree?”
Tension echoed loudly on the phone briefly before Christine answered him. “He’s good. He’s growing up, getting bigger every day. You’re missing out on that, too.” Another few moments of hush haunted the phone line. “You know Tyree was really disappointed when you didn’t make it to his birthday party.”
Maxwell refused to open that emotional door and ignored her statement. “Did he like the new PlayStation and his games?”
“Of course, he did; way too much, actually. I had to restrict his playing time with a schedule. All he wants to do is play that game. Seriously, Maxwell please try to come to the anniversary party. You can’t shut us out forever.”
“I’ll make sure the gift gets to you before the party. I’ve got to go. Say hello to Tyree for me.” He made a quick escape from the call by not waiting to hear her say good-bye. He pressed the end button on his cell phone and dived back into his document. Maxwell looked at the last few words he had written, ripped the entire sheet of paper from his legal pad, balled it up with both hands, and tossed it into the trashcan by his desk. Just as he regrouped and began typing directly into his laptop, Sonya buzzed the intercom on his desk. “Yes, Sonya.”
“I almost forgot. I need to come in and clean up the broken cup on your floor. Is now a good time?”
“Sure,” he answered. Maxwell looked across the room at the broken pieces of the cup and wondered if the other areas of his life would ever come together. He wasn’t ready for a wife, kids, family vacations, or a dog. He pulled his glance away from the broken pieces and shook his head, tossing the foreign notions out of his mind. If he was to reconcile with his former family or begin a new one, it would be somewhere far down the road and over the rainbow. There was no room for anything in his scope right now except the case he was determined to win.
Chapter 29
Cars whisked by as Jill stayed close to the building and as far from the street as she could. She didn’t want to take a chance on anyone seeing her go into the church at ten-thirty at night. Images raced around, zooming, with no sign of slowing. What did the bishop want with her this late? He’d already told her what he didn’t want and it had been fine with her. If only Minister Simmons had tried to help her in a different way, perhaps her circumstances would be better now. When she came to the church six months ago, he’d found out that she was struggling with chronic back pain. Her steps slowed as she drew closer to the rear door of the church. Standing there, Jill reflected on how she’d gotten to her spot of darkness. She had already stood in disgust and wasn’t interested in staying in that predicament any longer. Just as her hand was about to touch the handle, something said, run, run, get out of here. It wasn’t too late, not yet. She hadn’t crossed the line. There was a chance to walk away. She was turning to leave, maybe not running but definitely in a brisk walk. The door opened, stunning her for a second.
“Ms. Smith, right on time,” Bishop Jones said standing in the doorway in a dark blue suit and striped tie. She froze wanting to leave but her legs wouldn’t budge. They were heavy as logs, just like her heart.
Something about this second meeting with the senior pastor didn’t feel right, even if she was on the pain meds and muscle relaxers. Her body might have been somewhat relaxed but not enough to feel comfortable doing wrong in the church. God was watching. She eagerly wanted to meet and get out of there as fast as possible.
“I see you got my message. Thanks for meeting with me again,” he said standing to the side so she could enter the building. “I hope this isn’t too late for you.”
Not too late to bolt and save herself, she thought.
“Come on in and join me in my office.” She hesitated. Bishop must have picked up on her discomfort because he said, “I’m not going to bite you, for goodness’ sake.”
“Then why am I here?” she asked setting only one foot inside the church. She was afraid of Minister Simmons, cringed near the bishop, but was absolutely terrified of God’s wrath if she kept defiling the church. “Nope, Bishop, I’m not coming in there.”
“Well, we can’t very well stand here and talk, now can we?”
“Yes, I can,” she boldly conveyed to him.
“Come on in, please,” he offered extending his hand.
She didn’t reciprocate. “Nope, right here works for me.”
“Okay, then that’s the way it is,” he said leaning against the door to keep it propped open. “We’ll talk here if this is what you want.”
Her speeding thoughts slowed as the anxiety that had overtaken her minutes ago began subsiding. “I can only stay a few minutes anyway.” Her children were staying with a neighbor she didn’t totally trust. In a pinch, like this one, her children could stay but only for a brief period.
“I understand; I’ll ask a few questions, and you can be on your way.” Jill nodded determined to watch the time. “After we met last week, I couldn’t help but to think about our discussion. How exactly did you get into this situation, you know, with the medication?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Besides getting you another doctor, maybe I can help if I understand the root of your problem.”
Bugs were buzzing around the light hanging overhead. Some were flying in the open door, and some were nipping at her skin. Yet, she wasn’t bothered enough to go inside. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes, I do,” he said crossing his arms still leaning against the door. “You can trust me.”
She knew too well what that meant. Words she’d heard over and over: once from her father, then her children’s father, and now the church father. “It’s something that just happened.”
Bishop shook his head in disagreement. “That’s not true and you know it. Tell me your story and let me help you.”
Her guard almost came down in that quick second where it seemed like someone cared. She was certain he didn’t but the only way for her to get home as quickly as possible was to answer the bishop’s questions and get out of there. “When I came to this church, Minister Simmons led one of the counseling sessions. I told him about my chronic back pain. I was hoping to be healed because the doctor wouldn’t give me any more pills for my back.”
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