by Dijorn Moss
I walk over to the living room. Everything except for the furniture has been taken. Demetrius had several plants in his living room. All of them have been turned over and the vases broken. I walk over to the kitchen counter and there is a bottle of Hennessy Beauté du Siècle. The fact that it’s still here is odd. Beauté du Siècle is one of the most expensive Cognacs in the world. I would have to clean out my bank account just to buy one bottle. I think the bottle must’ve just been opened because even though it is almost full, there is glass of the Hennessy next to it. I lean in to get a whiff, and I detect that there is nothing that would suggest poison, but how else can someone take Demetrius out?
There are plenty of poisons that are odorless and tasteless, but in order to deliver this lethal bottle to Demetrius and get him to drink it, it would have to be someone he trusts, and there’s only one person I know on this island who Demetrius would trust.
I didn’t even know Sammy’s pickup truck is capable of going over eighty-five miles per hour, until I race along on an uneven road. I now have two theories. Either Elisha Davis is the killer, and she has been playing me this whole time, or she’s next on the real killer’s list. The only way I will know which theory is true is by going to her house.
I am coming up on Elisha’s house now, and I realize that I don’t have a gun on me. I don’t have time to stop by Adele’s place and pick up the gun she gave me earlier either.
I pull up to Elisha’s house. The door is cracked open. I look around my surroundings to make sure that I’m not walking into an ambush. I then step inside the house. The house doesn’t looked ransacked, but it there are some things missing. A few pictures are missing, and the door to the bedroom is open.
I walk into the bedroom and check to make sure there are no would-be assailants hiding in the corners. The closet is open and clothes are missing and strewn on the floor. Clothes seem to be missing from the dresser as well. Whether she is the killer or not is irrelevant at this point. Elisha is gone.
I walk back into the living room and notice that on the floor lay two pictures. The first is a picture of the Eiffel Tower.
That is a message from Elisha to me, that she escaped. I hope she enjoys Paris around this time of the year, and I hope she makes her family proud. The second picture is the same picture that Janae had in her house. It is a picture of Demetrius and his brother. There is a connection there. A message that Elisha was trying to convey to someone, maybe even me. But I don’t know, and I can’t make sense of two people who are dead and one person who is missing. I need to go somewhere to think.
Chapter Twenty-four
The news of Janae’s and Demetrius’s deaths, and Elisha’s sudden disappearance drives me to the one place where I know I can find answers, or at least pour my heart out. I go to the same church that Sammy took me to the last few weeks. Prayer changes things. That’s an elementary principle in Christianity, but within it, there’s truth. I thought I would find myself alone, but I’m alone, Pastor Clayborn is here, and she is praying up a storm.
Physically, she’s the only one in the room, but spiritually, she has a captive audience with her prayer. Pastor Clayborn is a true prayer warrior, and her prayers have somewhat become legendary in Crystal Cove. I hear stories of people who are fatally ill and how they make a miraculous recovery thanks to her prayers.
“Thank you, Jesus! You are all I need. Anything that’s not you is not worth it. You are worthy to be praised. You inhabit the praises of your people, Jesus, and I thank you,” she says.
I feel moved to fall to my knees right there in the back pew. I close my eyes and clasp my hands. For a minute, my mind is like a congested freeway; too much going on to settle down and focus. Then I start to settle down and remind myself why I am here. I am here to connect the dots as far as this case goes. I’m here searching for a spiritual epiphany. Despite my best efforts, all of my human efforts have failed, and here I am at ground zero.
“Thank you, Jesus, for your grace and your mercy. Father, I thank you for making a way out of no way,” I say.
I can’t even hear the pastor any more. I can’t even make out what I’m saying, and I don’t care. All I know is it feels like a fog has lifted, and my mind has started to clear up.
This whole mystery lies before me and the pieces are starting to connect in ways I haven’t even imagined. There is Janae and the two boys in the picture; Randall Knott and the casino; Elisha and her relationship to Pastor Cole; Pastor Cole and his relationship to the Cloth; and the power struggle between Demetrius and Randall Knott. Everything starts to come together and tells an unbelievable story right to the end.
“I know who killed them!” I say. These words came out of my prayer with sweat pouring from my pores.
“What are you talking about?” Clayborn says.
She is standing behind me, which means she must’ve concluded her prayer. I stand up with my knees feeling sore.
“How long have I been praying?”
“At least two hours. Boy, you were shouting it down. Yeah, there’s a power that dwells within these walls. I’ve seen the Holy Spirit do some amazing things here.”
No argument there. The Holy Spirit has done an amazing work in my life in the last two hours. God is neither a respecter of persons nor a respecter of churches. Wherever His name is being lifted up, God dwells in the midst.
Panic set in as I realize where the killer may be headed next. I reach into my pocket and speed dial Adele’s home. She doesn’t have a cell phone, only a house phone. No answer after about a dozen rings . . . until her voice mail comes on.
“Adele, this is Nic. I pray that you are out somewhere, but if you’re not and you’re listening to this message, get out of the house! Now! I’ll explain later. Go somewhere safe.”
“Boy, what’s wrong with you?” Pastor asks as I hang up the phone.
“Nothing. Everything is right if the Lord can let me do this one thing,” I say.
Pastor Clayborn is confused by what I say but no matter, I know what I need to do and where I need to go next.
Chapter Twenty-five
If I was in L.A., the police would be chasing me and a news helicopter would be flying over me. Thank God I’m not in L.A. The main road for Crystal Cove only has two lanes, but I swerve in and out of both, trying to get to Adele’s house as fast as possible. I dodge oncoming cars and trucks. Lord knows I have made quite a few enemies today with my driving alone, but I don’t care. I believe the killer has been tying up loose ends, which mean I’m next on the list. I can’t afford for Adele to be a causality of this war between Demetrius and Knott.
“Move out of the way!” I honk my horn at the truck in front of me, but it continues to drive slowly.
The bed of the truck is filled with car parts and other junk that I can’t make out, but what’s bothersome is that the items hanging off the truck have created a blind spot for me, so I continue to swerve in and out.
“Come on . . . move!” I honk again, but to no avail.
I decide to try to swerve around and get in front of the truck. When I switch to the next lane, sure enough, there is an oncoming car and the space between me and the car is small.
“Lord Jesus,” I say as I speed up and cut in front of the truck before I crash into the oncoming car.
The truck that is now behind me honks his horn as I take the exit that leads to Adele’s house and the truck speeds down the hill. I thank God that the truck Sammy let me borrow has enough juice in it to get to her house. I’m sure I will owe Sammy a new vehicle after today . . . if I even survive today. I get out of the car and race up to the porch and throw open the door.
“Adele!” I yell as I enter the kitchen. No one is here.
I go from room to room and I neither hear nor see anything. I go back in the living room and try to figure out my next play. There is no sign of blood or of a struggle, which means Adele is alive, thank God, and more importantly, she is gone. Now that I’m alone waiting for the killer to show up, I ne
ed a plan of attack.
The living room and the kitchen are too open. The killer can take me out without even stepping foot into the house. Upstairs will be my best option, but I can’t go upstairs empty-handed.
I walk out of the living room down the hall to the room where Adele keeps all of her husband’s memories. Adele brought me into this room to share a very private moment with her. She shared her husband’s wonderful, but dark, legacy. She also showed me his array of weapons, and I will need one of his guns to stand a fighting chance. I try to turn the knob, but the door is locked. I should’ve known that it will be locked, but that goes to show where my head is at the present moment.
I run upstairs. Again, I don’t see any sign of Adele, nor do I see any signs of blood or a struggle. Still thanking God for Adele not being home, that just leaves the killer and me. I go into my room and look out the window. If my theory is correct, then the killer is going to arrive by boat.
I stare outside for an hour with my eyes focused on the dock. During that hour I play the game of “what-ifs.” What if I never came to Crystal Cove? What if I passed on Pastor Bryant’s offer? I guess I wouldn’t be in the position I am currently in now, sitting and waiting for my death. I bow my head and clasp my hands.
“Father, you have been good to me. I thank you for my life and each moment I have lived. I know that every memory, including the bad ones, was to help shape me into a better man. Forgive me, Father, for all of the times I fell short or lost my way. In the end, I love you, and I just wanted to do your will. I pray that you see that in Jesus’ name, amen.”
I stare out the window for at least another ten minutes before I see a speedboat heading toward shore. The boat pulls against the dock and a person hops out. I turn around with my heart racing. I was right—I was right!
I realize that I am about to die, and at this moment I have developed a new power. I’m not talking about powers like X-men; no. I’m talking about a higher sense of the world within me and the world around me. My senses are so keen that I wonder why they haven’t kicked in until now.
Take, for example, the view from my room. Every day for the last two weeks I have walked out onto the terrace of my room and gazed at the ocean. I have only been able to see so far, but today, I can almost see the nearest island next to the one I am currently on. I can smell the saltwater from the sea and feel the wind race through my skin. I pour myself a glass of scotch without ice. I know for a fact that it cools as much as it burns while going down. Of course, I haven’t had a sip, and it’s not like I haven’t recently had a drink, but still, there is something to be said about going to meet my Savior having at least challenged my darkest demon. I stare at the glass for what feels like eternity before I set the glass back down on my desk. Even though I am about to die, and I’m certain that I won’t lose my salvation over a drink, I still can’t take a drink; not now, not anymore.
I spend a good portion of my life delving in secrets and entertaining the demon elixir. As a result, there aren’t too many things that I am proud of in my life. No amount of alcohol could drown out my problems, I see that now, but I also see my end. What’s one last drink? I know I said that I wouldn’t, but I can’t resist.
I pick up the glass and bring the scotch to my nose. It’s a decent scotch, but I’ve had better. It will have to do though. I take the drink, and it satisfies my thirst. Lord, forgive me for being weak and flawed in my hour of temptation.
Since I have already given into one temptation, I take in my other vice. I pick up the pack of smokes I have on my table and place one cigarette on the edge of my lips.
I savor the taste of the tobacco for a minute before I strike a match that I picked up from the Atlantis Casino. I couldn’t resist making a stop along the way to Crystal Cove.
I protect the flame with my hands from the island breeze as I draw it in close and light the end of my cigarette. I take in the smoke before I release it into the wind. The day is clear, and the ocean is inviting. It’s a good place God picked for me to die.
At least I will die a millionaire, though I didn’t get the chance to spend the money. And what’s the point? No one knows about the money except my employer. I wish I could give to charity or to Victory, another thing on my list of regrets.
Any moment now, my killer will arrive. It won’t be long now . . . last call. I think about Victory and the last time I saw her. Her eyes were full of disappointment, and it was well deserved. I was rotten to her, and I took something that was special and ruined it. I did it to myself. There is so much I want to tell her, and I can’t now. I guess my final lesson before I check out is that I should say the things that I need to say when I have the time to say it. Oh well, what good does regret do for me now? It can’t make me bulletproof.
The door clicks open. The hardwood floors snitches on my assailant. It’s almost that time. Now my heart is more scared than my mind.
I have to take a deep breath and remain calm. This person may take my life, but they won’t take my pride. I won’t give them the satisfaction.
The door to my office creaks open.
“I know who you are,” I say with my back turned. “I know everything, and I know why you killed him.”
I turn around to face my murderer. It turns out to be the person who I suspected. I am right. Boy, how I hate being right, especially now when I am about to die. I hope the information I left will be enough to see this person brought to justice. Now a smirk stretches across my assailant’s face, and a 9 mm gun points at my temple. Here we go.
“Are you surprised it’s me, fam?” Cameron says.
Cameron is the other boy in the picture next to his brother, Demetrius. I take a long drag of the cigarette and let the smoke flow out of my mouth. “No, not at all. I figured it out that it was you a long time ago.”
Yeah, I know that’s a lie, but the last thing I want is for this little knucklehead to think he outsmarted me.
“Quit lying. Cameron outsmarted everybody. I know I did.”
“Well, the one good thing about my death, aside from being with Jesus, of course, is that I won’t have to hear you refer to yourself in third person any longer.”
Cameron lets out a smirk. He holds all the cards, and he knows that all I’m trying to do is goad him into making a mistake.
“You know your mother kept two pictures of you and your brother Demetrius. In fact, Demetrius told me right before he died that he actually owned the land that your house sits on. It was passed down from generation to generation.”
“Mr. Knott offered us millions for that land, and he wouldn’t sell—saying he didn’t want to ruin our legacy. Saying he didn’t need his money—but what about me? What about Cameron? I don’t make any money, and he doesn’t do a thing for his own brother.”
“So you make a deal with the devil. First, you kill Pastor Cole for trying to talk your mother out of selling the house. You knew your mother and brother wouldn’t sell, so finally you had to kill them too. Your own flesh and blood—at least Cain didn’t kill Eve.”
“For $3 million, yeah, I’ll kill a crazy old lady and a selfish wannabe gangster. I don’t care if they were my mother and brother. I’ll kill whoever Mr. Knott wants me to kill.”
“Is he paying you extra to kill me?” I ask.
“You should’ve left it alone, fam. I don’t know what you did, but Mr. Knott is going to pay me a hundred thousand to kill you.”
Nice to see my life is worth a hundred thousand to Knott. I know people who would wipe out their whole family reunion for $3 million, but not me. I often wonder how much hatred can one human being stomach to drive him to kill his own family.
“You’re a pretty smart dude, Mr. Dungy. I hate that I have to do this.” Cameron readjusts his stance.
Father, forgives me and into your arms I go, and if possible, rather through a dream or a vision, and convey to Victory that I love her and that I’m sorry.
I heard the sound of a shotgun being racked; the interesting thing is
that Cameron has a .45 with a silencer on it. He turns around, and there is Adele with a shotgun pointed at Cameron’s lower body.
“Now, baby, I’m going to need you to put the gun down and get up out my house now,” Adele says calmly.
“Please, old lady, that gun is bigger than you. You’ll probably fly down the stairs if you try to fire it.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?” she asks.
Cameron is distracted, and without hesitation, I step to the left side of his gun and lift his arm up. He fires a shot, and when his eyes lock on me, I punch him square in his nose. The punch causes him to lose his grip. I take the gun and smack him on the side of his forehead with the gun and knock him out.
“Are you okay?” I ask Adele.
“No, no, I’m not. I come home to watch Dr. Oz, and I almost had to shoot a fool in my guest room, and now I got a hole in my roof.”
I know it may not be appropriate, but I start to laugh hysterically, and I don’t even stop myself. Eventually Adele stops looking at me crazy and joins in on the laughter.
The police carry Cameron off in the squad car. Adele should feel proud; she has the same amount of police presence as Pastor Cole had when he was murdered. This island has been stirred up enough over the last week. I stand on the porch after the police have questioned me. I’ll have to go down to the station for more questioning, but for right now, the police will give me time. I need to adjust to the fact that I had a gun pointed in my face less than an hour ago.
Sammy comes over as soon as he hears the news to comfort Adele and me. It’s great to have familiar faces around.
“Darn shame Knott hired that boy to kill his own family,” Sammy says.
“It’s a shame that I can’t prove that Knott was behind it.”
“Knott?” Adele asks.
