by Carl Weber
I gave each woman in the group a sad puppy-dog face. Then I put my hand over my chest as if something was ailing me, something I just had to get out.
The woman sitting next to me put her hand on my shoulder. “It’s okay, baby. Let God use you up in here.”
I glanced over at Tia, who was clenching her fists at her side all the while nodding with false concern. “Please, Simone, what is it that’s on your mind?”
“Well …” I leveled my gaze on Tia. “I was just wondering what do you do when someone you know is dating a rapist?”
There were gasps around the room, just as I’d hoped. This was going to work out perfectly. I couldn’t have gotten a better response if they were all on my payroll.
“You tell the person,” one woman said, and several quickly agreed.
“Simone, the ladies are right,” Tia cosigned. “You have to tell this woman. Imagine how you would feel if something happened to her, if she became one of the rapist’s victims.”
This was intense. From the look on these women’s faces, they would have taken up arms and followed me to kill the son of a bitch—which might not have been such a bad idea if I didn’t love him.
I paused for dramatic effect, before I looked at Tia and said, “You’re right. I should tell her.” I turned my head, making eye contact with every woman in the circle. I wanted to be sure I had everyone’s undivided attention before I announced, “Tia, you’re dating a convicted rapist. Aaron Mackie is a convicted rapist. And those two goons you always see coming around are his parole officers. If I were you, I’d be careful.” I leaned back and folded my arms, watching the drama unfold.
“Huh?” Tia sat there, absolutely stunned. She couldn’t say a word, but the other women did.
“Oh my God! Isn’t he the man who sat in on one of our meetings?” a woman asked.
It was kind of obvious from the way she spoke about Aaron that she wasn’t from our church, and neither were the other women, for that matter. I didn’t recognize any of them, now that I thought about it. Then again, I guess if I’d been raped, I wouldn’t go to a support group in a place where everyone knew me. I don’t care what type of agreements they have to keep things confidential—women talk! Besides, who knows who you might run into?
“Yes. He could have been here trying to pick up information on how not to get caught next time,” another woman replied.
“Or even worse, what if he came here to find another victim?” The woman who said this shuddered, genuine fear evident on her face.
I almost felt bad for putting them through this—not completely, but almost.
“What if he’s got his mind set on one of us?”
I felt the energy in the room shift. My announcement had just the effect I’d been looking for.
“Jesus, Tia, not only are you dating a convicted rapist, but you brought him into our lives too. We were supposed to be able to trust you.”
I could almost see Tia’s heart breaking into a thousand pieces just thinking that she could have betrayed these women. Now, that’s what I call dropping a bomb on someone’s head!
Tia swallowed hard, standing up. “Excuse me, ladies. I’d like to speak to Simone outside for a second. Certainly there has to be some mistake. I’ll be right back.”
“Sure, no problem, Tia. I’d be happy to.”
She gestured for me to go to the door and I obliged. As happy as I was about the success of this mission, I was careful to walk solemnly so as not to blow my cover in front of these women.
We stepped out into the hallway ready for war. If she thought what I just dropped on her head was something, she hadn’t seen anything yet.
“Yes, Tia?” I turned to face her as if it were just another day. As if I hadn’t just come in there and made statements that turned her world upside down.
“How could you make up such lies about Aaron? I know you hate me, but I thought you actually loved him. How could you throw him under the bus like that?”
“I wouldn’t, Tia. After all, who in their right mind would publicly make such strong allegations if they didn’t have proof?”
“I … I just can’ t believe it.”
“Then believe this.” I handed her the folder, then watched as she opened it and began reading.
“See, I told you. It’s all right there in black and white. He’s a registered sex offender, Tia.”
“Oh my God.” Before I realized it, the papers she was reading had slipped through her hands.
“I’ll get it.” I bent over and picked them up, then handed them back to her. “Here, you can keep this. I have plenty more copies. We may be enemies, but I just thought you should know.”
She stood there frozen.
“Look, I know you don’t want to believe this coming from me, but like my father always said, the best way to find out the truth is to go to the source. So, why don’t you just go ask Aaron for yourself? And make sure you tell him I’m the one who told you.”
Monique
57
It had been a long, emotional day for everyone. Per James’s request, his body had been cremated and there was no funeral, but we still held a memorial service for him at the church. Although many people over the past year or so had written him off because he went to jail, we were all pleasantly surprised by the turnout at the memorial. The pews were packed like it was Sunday service, and you wouldn’t believe how many women were crying. I didn’t know half those sobbing women even knew James that well, but from the tears they were shedding, it looked like they knew him a hell of a lot better than the rest of us.
I don’t know if anyone shed more tears than my husband, though. T. K. had taken James’s death extremely hard. He’d held himself together long enough to put together the service just the way his friend wanted, but once we stepped foot in the church and saw the urn holding his ashes and James’s portrait beside it, T. K. lost it. He had to struggle to keep his composure during the rest of the service. I gave him a sleeping pill at home to calm his nerves and help him sleep through the night.
I was sad that James’s kids didn’t show up, but I wasn’t surprised. They hadn’t been around at all during his incarceration or his illness. However, I was amazed that Simone hadn’t shown up, despite the fact that I had texted her the time and place. Yes, she was banished from the church and I personally couldn’t stand her right now, but I did know how she felt about James. I thought she might have wanted to be there. Believe it or not, that bastard Maxwell was there with two large guys who looked like bodyguards. Luckily he knew enough not to start anything at such a solemn occasion.
Even though Maxwell behaved himself in public, having him there made the day even more difficult for me. It was painful to see my husband’s true friend reduced to ashes in an urn and his worst enemy sitting in the pews. For much of the service, I couldn’t even pay attention. I was too busy thinking about what, if anything, I could do to stop Maxwell’s attempted takeover of the church. Unfortunately, he pretty much had my back up against the wall, because as soon as I tried anything, he’d tell T. K. what I’d been doing lately. Short of killing Maxwell, there wasn’t much I could do.
I had to try, though, which was what brought me to the church at two in the morning, letting myself into the bookkeeper’s office. I had a strong suspicion that the papers Maxwell had shown me were forged. If I could locate the originals, I would have proof of T. K.’s innocence, and Maxwell would no longer be able to threaten to send my husband to jail. Hell, if I was lucky, I’d find proof that Maxwell was the one who stole all the money. At that point, Maxwell could put an announcement in the church bulletin that I’d slept with him, and not a soul would believe him.
I guess I could have turned on an office light, but just in case someone drove by the church, I didn’t want to bring any unnecessary attention to myself. So, I pulled my flashlight out of my purse and headed for the file drawers. Unsure of what I was looking for, I started by going through the church’s records of accounts receivable and acc
ounts payable.
My heart was pounding. I had no idea what I was going to find in these files, and regardless of what it was, I knew that the outcome would be painful for me. What if, by some million-to-one chance, I was wrong about the forgery and the files confirmed that T. K. actually had been stealing?
I shook off that thought as quickly as it had come to mind. My gut told me that I would only find papers that proved T. K.’s innocence. But then I would have to deal with the overwhelming guilt and shame for ever having doubted him—and for allowing Maxwell to trick me into dishonoring my marriage the way I had.
After awhile, I was able to find what I was looking for—state-ments from the same dates that Maxwell had shown me, along with images of checks in the amounts Maxwell claimed T. K. had stolen. These, however, were the originals, and they showed something quite different from the ones in Maxwell’s file. None of the check images had T. K.’s name on them. Maxwell had probably copied the files, covered the real names on the checks with Wite-Out, put T. K.’s name in their place, then copied the doctored version to conceal the Wite-Out.
“Oh, praise God! He was telling the truth!” I said jubilantly. “My husband was telling the truth, and here’s the proof that Maxwell’s ass was lying all along.”
Once I got myself together, I had to take a closer look at the statements to see if I could discern where the money had actually gone. I was hoping to find a way to pin it all on Maxwell, but the trail of debits and credits to the account, as well as the checks that were written revealed something even more shocking than I could have imagined: Jonathan Smith and Simone Wilcox were the true thieves!
Now some things were starting to make sense. This must have been why Smitty killed himself. Maxwell must have known he was stealing and threatened to expose him. I knew from experience how effective Maxwell’s threats could be. That was probably also why Simone was at his house that morning. He must have been holding the embezzlement over her head too.
“That son of a bitch,” I said aloud. He’d been blackmailing everyone, including me. I could kill him for what he’d made me do. And rest assured, I would never do it again.
All of a sudden, the lights blazed on, temporarily blinding me. I let out a scream, squeezing my eyes shut.
“What are you doing here?” a man shouted.
I raised the hand holding the flashlight to protect myself. “I’m the first lady of the church. Please don’t hurt me.” I opened my eyes and tried to adjust to the light.
“It’s all right, First Lady. It’s me, Aaron.” When my eyes finally focused, I saw Aaron standing in the doorway, wielding a large bat. His brow was furrowed in concern.
“What are you doing here?” I said. I slowly closed the file drawer, though I’m sure Aaron saw. I was also still holding the flashlight and the file that proved T. K.’s innocence.
“I’ve gotta win this competition. We’re leaving tomorrow night, so I’m working day and night on the songs. I was here practicing when I thought I heard a noise coming from this end of the building.” He looked around the office suspiciously. “My question is what are you doing in the bookkeeper’s office at two in the morning with a flashlight?” He flicked the light on and off, finally leaving it on. “The light seems to work just fine.”
Seeing how loyal Aaron had been to the bishop, I decided to take a chance. I needed an ally, and other than T. K., he seemed to be the only one who cared about anything around here. “Aaron, can you keep a secret?”
He nodded. “Sure, First Lady. As long as you’re not involving me in any felony or robbery of the church, I’ll take it to the grave.”
“No, nothing like that.” I swallowed a lump in my throat before I continued. “I had heard some rumors about my husband stealing money from the church, and I was trying to prove they weren’t true.”
Aaron finally relaxed and put the bat down by his side. “Well, did you find what you were looking for?” I could see his concern. He really looked up to the bishop.
“Yes, thank God. They’re not true.” I raised the file that was still in my hands.
“Who would say such a ridiculous thing about the bishop?”
I suddenly felt so ashamed of myself I wanted to cry. Here was Aaron, who’d known the bishop for only a few months, and he had not even a moment’s doubt that the rumors were false. I, on the other hand, was his wife and had allowed myself to be duped. How had I ever let myself believe that T. K. could steal from his beloved church?
“Believe it or not, it was Maxwell who was whispering in my ear, telling me that the bishop was stealing from the church.”
“Man, that dude’s going straight to hell. I ain’t never seen anyone as devious as him.”
“Yeah, well, I might be going there with him,” I mumbled under my breath.
“Excuse me. What did you say, First Lady?”
“Nothing.” He was staring at me funny, so I think he might have heard part of what I said. Still, I wasn’t about to repeat it.
“So, if it wasn’t the bishop stealing, who was it? Maxwell?”
“I don’t see any proof of it, but Maxwell’s too smart for that anyway. He’d never be stupid enough to put his name on something that was illegal. But Jonathan Smith and your girl Simone weren’t.” I handed him the file and he thumbed through it briefly.
“First Lady, I have no idea what I’m looking at.”
“Okay, let me explain. Simone and Smitty were stealing from the church. Because they were the chair of the deacons’ board and board of trustees, they would write each other checks, and wire transfer money to each other—Simone would even write checks to Wilcox Motors.”
“Now, that’s bold.”
“Sure was, but with James gone to prison, they could do whatever they wanted. Nobody was going to miss ten or fifteen thousand dollars a month, especially since they were in charge of the money.”
“What about the bookkeeper? Didn’t he notice anything?”
“I doubt it. You’ve seen Mr. Wright. He’s darn near eighty years old, and he only comes in three times a week. Simone pretty much has him intimidated. So, up until Jackie got busted and the weekly offerings dropped off drastically, they were good to go. First Jamaica Ministries was a cash machine. T. K. and the boards trusted them.”
“Oh my God, that’s where that thirty thousand dollars came from!” Aaron shook his head in disgust.
“What thirty thousand dollars?”
“The thirty thousand dollars Simone was supposed to get from Deacon Smith before he died. That woman is scandalous.”
“Not as scandalous as Maxwell. He’s been pulling puppet strings around here for quite some time. Simone’s a little fish compared to him. And Smitty was right when he told Bishop this thing was bigger than it seemed.”
We were both quiet for a moment. I was trying to wrap my head around the depth of the deception that had been happening right under our noses.
“So, what are you going to do? Are you going to tell your husband? I’m sure Bishop will know what to do. He always does.”
If only it were that easy. “No, I don’t think so. At least not until nationals is over.”
“I don’t understand. Why?”
“Because Smitty and Simone aren’t the only ones Maxwell has something on.”
Aaron tilted his head and studied my face as if he were trying to read my mind. “They’re blackmailing you, too, aren’t they?”
I answered with a nod.
“With what? What could they possibly have on you?”
“My husband. I was trying to save T. K. from going to jail,” was all I said. Tears welled up in my eyes.
I think he knew what my mouth couldn’t say, because he reached out and touched my hand. “It’s all right. You don’t have to tell me. Some things are better left unsaid.” Aaron looked down at the file and then back up at me. “Now that you’ve shared something with me”—he hesitated for a few seconds—“I’d like to share something with you.”
Aaron
58
Choir rehearsal was under way, and with the exception of Tia not being there, everything was perfect. It was our last practice. The bus would be leaving for D.C. in about three hours. The sopranos were hitting high notes without effort, the tenors were riffing to perfection, and the basses would have given the late, great Barry White a run for his money. Nothing could disturb our groove. We were tuned to perfection, and a win at the National Gospel Choir Championship was within our grasp.
The choir wasn’t distracted from their practice, even when the doors to the choir room flung open and Tia rushed in. She ran up on me like she couldn’t wait to kiss me. It had been two days since we’d seen each other, so I was happy to see her, too, but it would have to wait until we at least finished our song. It was her index finger stabbing my shoulder that pulled me from my choir directing. Even then, the choir didn’t stop. They just kept on singing like they were performing for the Lord Himself.
“I need to talk to you.” That’s what it sounded like Tia was saying, though it was hard to tell.
“Huh?” I leaned my ear in closer to her mouth while my eyes stayed focused on the singers. I thought I’d be able to hear her more clearly, but she kept rambling about something.
“I said I need to talk to you!” she screamed at the top of her lungs. Her voice was so loud that the choir stopped singing to appease her attempt to communicate with me.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I need to talk to you. Right now. Alone.”
Though I could tell she was trying to maintain her usual professional demeanor in front of the choir, I thought I detected something like disgust in her tone, and behind her eyes was outright anger.
“Uh, choir, can you all excuse me for a moment? Keep practicing while I talk with Sister Tia here. Sister Judith, do you mind taking over for a moment, please?”
As Tia and I headed out of the choir room, they started singing again.
