“The reporter who solved the Pauley kidnapping?”
“Yes, Bishop, that’s him.”
“I don’t know him personally, but I certainly know about the outstanding work he did reporting on that case. We need a dozen more like him. He’s giving you problems?”
“Well, Bishop, it’s more like a misunderstanding.”
“From what I’ve seen, his demeanor seems to be non-confrontational. Have you tried talking to him?”
“Well, Bishop, as I said, it’s a sensitive subject. You see, he’s written a very controversial article about some African tribe that’s supposed to be related to Moses or
something. I’ve explained to him that, without irrefutable proof, we can’t move forward with the story. But he’s insisting that we run it right away. All I’m asking him to do is wait until we can verify the facts.”
Ed knew he was manipulating the details to suit his own purposes. But unless Bishop Taylor could reason with Lloyd, he didn’t see any alternative than to involve Bubba, which he really preferred not to do.
“After being so thorough about getting the facts in the Pauley case,” responded Taylor, “why would Palmer do an about face and get sloppy with his reporting all of a sudden? It doesn’t add up.”
The bishop did have a point, Ed thought, as he chose his next words carefully.
“I think his enthusiasm may have clouded his judgment a little. He’s not being very receptive to what I have to say right now. But I thought if you called him and talked to him, he might listen to you.”
There were a few seconds of silence on the phone as Ed waited for Bishop Taylor’s response.
“Mr. Jackson, as I said, I don’t know Palmer personally, and I’m not sure if I could be any help to you at all.”
“You’re a well-respected man in Houston’s black community, Bishop. In the whole city, in fact. Everyone knows that, including Lloyd. All I’m asking is that you talk to him.”
“If you think it will make a difference, Mr. Jackson, I’ll call him and see what I can do. What’s his phone number?”
Ed gave Lloyd’s phone number to the bishop, then said, “I really appreciate this, Bishop. Hopefully, the Ledger can work with you and your congregation next year on some of your projects.”
Ed wanted Taylor to know that his favor would not go unnoticed when the time came for the Ledger to allocate their sponsorship dollars for advertising next year. “’Bye, Pastor, and I’ll be in touch,” said Ed, as he hung up the phone.
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Bishop Jeremiah Taylor put his office phone back on its cradle. Jackson’s implication was crystal clear: Taylor had to use his considerable influence to get Palmer to back off on his story idea. Otherwise, New Inspiration Tabernacle could forget about the Ledger’s advertising sponsorship for its upcoming women’s conference.
One thing Taylor didn’t like about being senior pastor of one of the largest churches in Houston was the necessity of building quid pro quo relationships with the political and corporate establishment. When he needed permits to add more buildings to his growing ecumenical empire, or favorable media coverage for sponsorship dollars for one of his church’s numerous outreach ministries, he could count on it.
But the sponsorship dollars were only a small portion of what could be at stake. Ed Jackson often sent people to the Tabernacle who were looking for places to donate money to a worthy cause. Some of these characters obviously were involved in shady dealings and were looking for a way to launder money. They’d bring thousands of dollars in cash to the church office after hours, and Taylor would write them a check for the funds, minus a handling fee, of course.
Yet when the requests came in from the powers-that-be to return the favors, he also knew he had to play ball. Otherwise, the open doors he had been able to rely upon for the past twenty years could be abruptly closed.
Taylor had been doing God’s work for most of his adult life and the fruits of his labor were visible through his opulent lifestyle. Ousted as assistant pastor from a traditional Baptist church in the late 1980s after one of the female members falsely accused him of making unwanted advances, Taylor decided to start his own church from the ground up.
New Inspiration Tabernacle was established with a corporate board, with him and his wife, Trista, as the only officers with voting power. With that type of structure, he could make decisions without the restraints, oversight and constant second-guessing of a deacon or trustee board.
The Bishop had started the Tabernacle in an office park with only a handful of members. His flock had grown steadily during the first few years, but once he built a sanctuary, the growth became rapid. He now had three services on Sunday, just enough to accommodate the present membership, and he might have to add a fourth.
A solid chunk of his members were tithers, donating ten percent of their weekly income to the church, and they also contributed substantially to the pastoral fund. Taylor and his wife lived in a lavish mansion on three acres of land;
he drove a silver Porsche Carrera GT, and she sported around Houston in a red Maybach. They both traveled to out-of-town speaking engagements in a private jet.
One of Taylor’s favorite scriptures was Deuteronomy 8:18: But you shall remember the LORD your God: for it is he that gives you power to get wealth, that he may establish his covenant which he swore to your fathers, as it is this day.
He firmly believed that the power and influence he had been bestowed due to his position in the ministry had been ordained by God. Receiving calls from people like Ed Jackson was part of that divine assignment.
Yet, after speaking with Jackson, he was baffled. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen or spoken with the Ledger’s editor, and they weren’t exactly running buddies. He didn’t like being dragged into what seemed to be an internal dispute at Houston’s daily newspaper.
But he couldn’t afford to let this Palmer fellow jeopardize his relationship with the men who ran the Ledger over a topic that the reporter wasn’t really qualified to discuss. After all, had Palmer been trained at a seminary or did he have a degree in religious studies? Had he been called by God to decipher the holy scriptures? He ought to leave the Biblical analysis to men like Taylor who had spent years combing through the scriptures and who were anointed to interpret them.
His belief that Palmer was overstepping his boundaries, inserting himself into areas that were simply out of his league, was how Bishop Taylor justified picking up the phone and making the call. When Lloyd answered, the Bishop was ready.
“Mr. Palmer, this is Bishop Jeremiah Taylor of the New Inspiration Tabernacle. First, let me congratulate you on a job well done on solving the Pauley kidnapping crisis. I don’t know what would have happened if you hadn’t acted as quickly as you did.”
Lloyd was on his lunch break when he received the call. He’d become accustomed to receiving these types of congratulatory phone calls for the past few weeks and didn’t think it out of the ordinary.
“Why, thank you Bishop Taylor. That means a lot coming from you and the other religious leaders who have called.”
“That was one of the reasons for my phone call, but I do have something else I’d like to discuss with you.”
“Oh? What can I do for you, Bishop Taylor?”
Taylor paused for a few seconds; he wanted to have just the right tone in his voice. “I understand that you’re working on a religious piece for the Ledger.”
“Yes, I am. How did you know about that?”
Taylor toyed with the idea of telling Palmer that Jackson had called him, but he decided it would be best not to. “Let’s just say that I hear things from time to time. I receive calls from people from all walks of life, and let’s just say I heard a rumor. Can you tell me exactly what the article is about?”
Lloyd thought it strange that he was getting a call from the Bishop about a newspaper story, and he had a sneaking suspicion that Ed was the instigator beh
ind this phone call. But he couldn’t figure out what was in it for Bishop Taylor. “Well, I’d rather not go into all of the details before the article actually runs, Bishop Taylor. Someone might get wind of the idea and steal it right from under me. I’ve had that happen before, you know.”
“Does it relate to the Bible in some way?”
“As a matter of fact, it does. The book of Exodus, to be exact.” Lloyd had read more of the Bible recently and found that the book of Exodus included extensive descriptions of both Aaron and Moses, who led the Israelites out of bondage by the Egyptians.
“Since I’m assuming that you don’t have a background in religious studies or a degree in theology, wouldn’t it be a good idea for you to consult with one of the ordained ministers of the city, or even a group of ministers, before moving forward with your article?”
“With all due respect, Bishop Taylor, I’ve already done extensive research and have a first-hand source for much of the material in my article. It’s really not the kind of story that would require input from members of the Houston clergy. But I appreciate the offer. Is that all you needed?” Lloyd was ready to cut this conversation short. The Bishop was evidently on a mission, one at which Lloyd would make sure he failed.
The Bishop hadn’t expected the phone call to end so abruptly. “Are you sure there’s nothing I or other members of the Coalition can do?”
“I’m positive, Bishop. I appreciate the call, and much success to you and the members of the Tabernacle,” Lloyd said, as he hung up the phone. If that’s the way Ed wanted to play it, Lloyd thought, he could make some phone calls of his own.
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The news from Bishop Taylor wasn’t good. Ed thought he had better than a fifty-fifty shot at getting Lloyd to back off by having Taylor call him. At the very least, he thought there was a good chance of getting him to table the article about that African tribe so he wouldn’t have to run it in the upcoming special section that was due to run in less than two weeks. Instead his plan may have backfired completely. From the feedback Ed received from Bishop Taylor, the phone call may have agitated Lloyd to the point where he’d dug in his heels.
But there was no way on God’s green earth that Ed was going to run Lloyd’s article. He didn’t care what kind of pressure came from the rich guys upstairs or anywhere else. They weren’t going to have to take the heat from the good old boys inside and outside Houston. He’d be eaten alive with phone calls from Kingwood, Magnolia, Conroe, Friendswood—suburban cities with older white populations that still actually read newspapers and didn’t get all of their news from the Internet.
Nope. Ed wasn’t going to let Lloyd Palmer, or any nigger at the Houston Ledger, tell him what he had to run in his newspaper. He would have to get Bubba involved after all. Ed didn’t see any other way to handle it. He’d tried the diplomatic approach with Taylor and it had gotten him nowhere.
But he had to make sure there were six degrees of separation between him and whatever Bubba decided to do. If Bubba did his usual meticulous job, everybody—including Lloyd—would believe that what happened was purely accidental.
He dialed Bubba’s number. “Bubba, this is Ed.”
“Wow, two calls within the same month. This might just be a record, since I normally don’t hear from you more than twice within the same year. But I was kinda of expecting you to call.”
“Yeah, why is that?”
“I’ve been seeing your boy, Lloyd, on the T.V. That nigger is a cocky son of a bitch, isn’t he? That’s what happens when you give one of those coons a little status. It goes straight to their head.”
Ed rolled his eyes. He agreed with Bubba, but didn’t have time to rehash the past now. “I’m already aware of that, Bubba, and I can’t talk long. I’m still at work. You know what we talked about at Fuddrucker’s, right?”
“Yeah, you wanted me to take care of him if he got out of line. The only question is how far do you want me to go?”
“I don’t want him killed or anything, because that would create too much investigation. Lloyd has almost reached celebrity status in the city and the shock to the
political system would be immense. But I do want the bejesus scared out of him, enough so he’ll back off and stop causing me problems. He might even be scared enough to quit, which would be fine with me. Just make sure whatever you do looks like an accident, okay?”
“Don’t worry, Ed. I know just what to do. Transfer the money for this one to the usual account, and I’ll get started right away.”
“When do you think you’ll have it done? I need to get this nigger off my back as soon as possible.”
“Oh, so it’s a rush job, huh. Today’s Wednesday. I’ll have it done before Friday morning. Is that good enough?”
“That’s perfect. I guess you won’t need to call me and tell me when it’s done. I’ll find out once the news breaks about him. It’s probably best that we don’t talk to each other for awhile anyway.”
“Don’t worry, Ed. I won’t show up at your office and embarrass you. We’ll keep our relationship quiet, like we always have. I swear, Ed, sometimes you make me feel like I’m your mistress or something with you not wanting to be seen with me in the daylight,” Bubba said with a hearty laugh.
“It’s a good thing I’m not sensitive about that kind of thing,” Bubba continued. “We’re from two different worlds, always have been and probably always will be.
“But it doesn’t matter how far up the corporate ladder you go, you’ll always be part of the old neighborhood. As long as you don’t forget that, we can still be buddies.”
“I won’t forget, Bubba, and I’m grateful to you for saving my ass, this time and the other times too.”
Ed hung up the phone and smiled to himself. Lloyd Palmer thought he had Ed over a barrel, but Ed would get the last laugh.
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CHAPTER 42
Audrey Moore usually didn’t work late on Wednesday nights. She enjoyed going to her mid-week Bible study meeting at her church and liked to leave by at least five thirty. But today she had some letters she had to finish writing and sending for Mr. Jackson and decided to stay until they were done.
With her purse in hand, she had walked toward his office door, which was slightly ajar, to tell him she was about to go home when she overheard him talking on the phone. He was speaking with a low volume, and it was obvious that his conversation was not for public consumption. As she approached the door she heard him say, “. . . I don’t want him killed,” and she stopped in her tracks. Who could he be talking about?
Audrey stood quietly by the door and continued to listen. From his conversation, it was obvious that Ed was talking to someone about having a man hurt in some way to teach him a lesson. Then she heard him mention Lloyd’s name and she gasped. Could he be talking about Lloyd Palmer? He had to be since she knew that, ever since the Pauley kidnapping, there had been friction between Ed and Lloyd.
She didn’t want Ed to know she was still there so, when it sounded as though his conversation was coming to an end, she quietly tiptoed backwards toward the exit. Once she got outside, she ran to her car, got in and locked the doors. Her heart was beating loudly in her chest and her hands were shaking. She had to get out of there before Mr. Jackson came out of the building, so she put the key in the ignition and gingerly wheeled away.
Audrey still couldn’t believe what she heard, but she knew her ears didn’t deceive her. She had to warn Lloyd, but she knew he’d never believe her. In fact, he probably wouldn’t even accept her call.
Audrey had been single since she divorced her husband five years ago. She still had a voluptuous figure, with healthy double-D cups at the top, and had her fair share of dates. She was really attracted to Lloyd; even though she knew he was married, she couldn’t help herself. Not only was he handsome, but he didn’t treat her like a sex object as did so many others. He really seemed to respect her,
both as a woman and for her considerable office skills and the pride she took in her work.
She wasn’t just trying to skate by on her looks alone and had obtained her associate degree in office administration from Lone Star Community College. She had also taken a few courses in business law, just to make sure she had other options if the job with the Ledger disappeared.
But no matter how hard she tried, Lloyd just wouldn’t respond to her advances. Gosh, his wife was really lucky to have a husband so committed to her and their family. If only Audrey’s first husband hadn’t been a rolling stone, spending most of his time chasing women and drinking.
She not only had to warn Lloyd, but she also had to figure out a way to expose Ed Jackson. She had worked at the Ledger for five years, and she didn’t think the upper management would approve of his actions; if for no other reason than that the bad publicity and legal liability for the Ledger would be catastrophic, perhaps leading to the company’s demise. There could even be class action suits from former employees who had faced discrimination.
But she didn’t have any proof. It was just her word against Ed’s from a phone conversation she overheard. If confronted, he would simply deny the whole thing, fire her, and even label her psychotic or delusional. Losing her job may be the least of her worries if she revealed what she knew. Her life could be in danger too.
During her drive home, she mulled over her options. She had to do something now. It sounded as though the threat to Lloyd was imminent and could occur within the next couple of days.
When she arrived at her apartment building and pulled into her assigned parking space, she turned off the ignition, sat for a few minutes and thought about who she could call. Then she had an “aha moment.” She would call Charles Scott.
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