Saving Face (Mount Faith Series: Book 1)

by Brenda Barrett

  She wasn't looking forward to standing up in them for long. Her mother had called them the death trap but they were the only stylish shoes she had that would be appropriate for a president's ball.

  She shimmied into her floor length black dress. It fit her shape perfectly and had some glitters on it. She had no idea who the designer was and couldn't check now. She had cut out the label at the back because it had given her neck an itch. It looked expensive though. Her aunt had bought it for her and she could remember getting compliments when she had worn it to the annual police award ceremony last year.

  It would have to do, or else she would have had to postpone going to the ball. She needed to see Miranda Carlisle in person while Miranda was completely unaware that she was under scrutiny.

  She had read most of Edward Carlisle's emails today—hardly leaving her room and completely immersing herself in his correspondence. She now had a burning sympathy for his wife. The only way to describe the deceased in her mind was that he was a creep and extremely immoral—a fact that shocked her to the core, even after Harry's speech about Christians.

  She shuddered to think about some of the mails he sent to the people in his folder called 'friends'. The man vacillated between being a holier than thou conservative and being a liberal nymphomaniac or the male equivalent. She was yet to research the word.

  She might have to run through some of her findings with Taj and see what he thought about that condition in men.

  She sat down in Taj's chair and stared out the window. She had a feeling that she would never view Christian authority figures the same again. She had already written off politicians. She had investigated a few of them and seen how corrupt they were—some of her fellow officers openly had criminal liaisons with them. She was frustrated because nothing ever became of political misdeeds even after long investigations and court hearings.

  She shook her head. Call her naive but she had thought that a Christian institution would be different—it should be lead by Godly men. Apparently, the adage that power corrupts and more power corrupts absolutely was right. This was a school that trained pastors for ministry; one would think that its head would have been circumspect in his dealings.

  She frowned. Instead, he was not only disgustingly free with his sexual favors but he obviously had too much time on his hands, judging from his lurid emails. In some of them, he didn't even spell words correctly but wrote like a juvenile teenager on steroids. What did presidents do anyway?

  She looked up when Taj walked into the office breaking her trend of thought.

  "I caught you mid-scowl," Taj said lightly, not good. He was dressed in a tuxedo, which fit him well. His curls were tamed and low and he was clean-shaven—he looked yummy.

  Natasha smiled—she couldn't help it. The nervous tension that accompanied her when Taj was in close proximity crept up on her again.

  "You clean up well Miss Rowe." Taj said formally.

  "So do you Dr. Jackson." Natasha's eyes drank him in.

  "Ready?" Taj asked huskily.

  "Not until we absolutely have to move," Natasha said pointing to her killer heels. "How do women walk in these things for long and not get whiplash."

  Taj looked down at her legs admiringly and then asked her alarmed, "Are you seriously asking me that? You do realize that I am not female, don't you?"

  Natasha put on her heels and stood up. "Yes I do realize that you are not female all too well Dr. Jackson. All too well."

  The president's building was transformed into a sophisticated decoration of fairy lights. Natasha and Taj walked up the steps on blue carpet to the grand entrance of the building. There were six ushers at the door, who were dressed as butlers. They checked their invitations and waved them through.

  Natasha was open mouthed and in awe from the moment they entered the lawn area where the building was. They had really transformed the place. When they walked into the ballroom she started bobbing her head. There was an orchestra on a raised dais playing Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes, ‘Don't Leave Me This Way’.

  "Wow." She looked around with stars in her eyes. "I can't believe this decor and this building!"

  Taj was awed as well. "It's really gorgeous, isn't it?"

  "Listen to that music." Natasha started swaying from side to side. "That's my kind of jam."

  Taj laughed shaking his head. "Mine too."

  "Taj," Natasha said to him seriously, "please don't allow me to enjoy myself too much. Pinch me when you see me getting too excited. I am here to work."

  Taj grinned. "Surely you can enjoy yourself while working."

  Natasha looked around at the vast ballroom and the high cathedral ceiling. "I know this is going to sound morbid but this is one of the better assignments I have had."

  Taj raised his brows. "Want to tell me about some of the others."

  Natasha grinned. "My assignment before this. We had to move into a house beside a drug dealer and his girlfriend. The one before that we spent days in an inner city community gathering evidence against a particularly tough gang leader."

  "You live dangerously." Taj looked at her warmly.

  "We hardly see any real action as detectives. We gather data, evidence and make sure that the evidence is solid before we bring in anyone else. Sometimes we work against our own colleagues. That's when it get dangerous."

  She shook her head and looked around. "Enough about me… isn't that Miranda Carlisle?"

  She was staring at a lady in a light blue dress who held herself regally and with confidence. She had a drink in her hand and was talking animatedly to a man in glasses—D.M. Carter.

  "That's her and D.M. Carter," Natasha said to Taj. "I think you should go over there and talk to them."

  Taj sighed. "Okay. Did I tell you that I am not a social butterfly? So this is going to take me out of my comfort zone."

  Natasha was already walking ahead so he walked behind her.

  "Good evening," he said to both D.M. Carter who was dressed in a tuxedo with a black polka dot tie and Miranda Carlisle who looked extremely youthful and relaxed. She looked too happy for a woman who had recently lost her husband.

  "Good evening," both Miranda and D.M. said, then Carter's eyes lit up. "Dr. Jackson. I have been meaning to come and talk to you but my wife said I should allow you to settle down a bit first. After all, this is just your first week. I heard you boldly took up classes this semester until the center is ready."

  Taj shook his head. "That was a mistake, I will rectify next semester."

  Carter nodded. "Very true, especially since you might be chairing this ball next year anyhow."

  Taj laughed. "There is always that."

  "So he's the one? The young candidate?" Miranda looked at Taj appreciatively. "You are a very good looking young man."

  Taj felt Natasha squeezing his arm and cleared his throat, "Mr. Carter, Mrs. Carlisle, this is my partner for the evening Miss Natasha Rowe…a student here."

  Miranda looked at Natasha and smiled. "Nice to meet you. What area of study are you pursuing?"

  "Forensic Psychology," Natasha said smiling back. "I want to be a detective in the police force."

  D.M. Carter raised his eyebrows. "You are very definite with your ambitions." He shook his head. "I heard that the police force is corrupt beyond redemption. Why would anyone want to go into that?"

  Natasha shrugged. "Someone has to do it and not everybody is corrupt. There are still decent people left in the police force who just want to do their jobs to the best of their ability."

  Miranda gasped. "It is so heartening to see somebody passionate about their future aspirations. I say pursue your dreams Natasha. It can have its rewards."

  Natasha ceased her sympathy like a lifeline and offered some of her own. "Thank you Mrs. Carlisle. And I must say I am sorry to hear about your husband's death."

  "Did you know him personally?" Miranda asked sharply.

  "No." Natasha was taken aback by the sharpness of her tone.

  "Oh." Mir
anda relaxed. "Well, then I accept your condolences."

  Carter chuckled. "Edward was a complex man. We are all saddened by his loss."

  His eyes were saying that he wasn't though–Natasha was taken aback by his response. She had naively expected that since the president's ball was arranged for the president who just died that there would be some sort of remorse, but nobody she met thus far on the school compound seemed to be bothered by the man's death. And here at his ball, there wasn't even the hint of sadness.

  There was just a general apathy where he was concerned. Even his widow seemed long past grieving. Natasha concluded that she must have known about his extra marital activities. They definitely needed to interview her.

  "Death is a part of life Natasha," Miranda said philosophically. "Here today, gone tomorrow." She batted her long, mascara heavy eyelashes.

  "But Dr. Carlisle's death was so sudden and unexpected," Natasha insisted, trying to get a deeper reaction from her.

  Miranda nodded absently and then waved to someone in the distance. "It was nice meeting you." She nodded to Natasha and then turned to Taj.

  "If you are chosen by the board of trustees to lead this place. Lead with God…consult him in all your dealings…live above board with all men."

  She then hugged him and moved away.

  Taj and Natasha stared after her, bemused.

  D.M. pushed his hand in his pockets and rocked back on his heels. "She is a strong lady."

  "Where's Anne?" Natasha asked, "I don't see her anywhere."

  "Oh she's sick with a slight cold," D.M. said, his eyes skittering away. "Besides, she doesn't usually come to the president's ball."

  He cleared his throat. "And here is Bancroft with the long suffering Celeste."

  Ryan Bancroft was standing at the door, his hand resting on his wife's back.Celeste was a head shorter than him, but she looked taller in her picturesNatasha thought. Her skin was fair, and she had a round shape; her thick black hair was cut in a bell style. She looked elegant and pretty and seemed to be completely at ease with herself.

  "So that's the wife of Dr. Bancroft," Natasha said low in her throat. "She's warm and pretty. Looks like she bakes cookies and gives boo-boo kisses."

  Taj looked at Natasha. "Why do you sound so bitter," he said leaning near her ear. "Are you jealous of Bancroft's wife for some reason?"

  "No," Natasha sighed, "just envious. You know some days you fantasize about being a well-preserved housewife to a powerful president of a college.

  Taj laughed softly. "You would be bored to tears in a minute being a housewife, but if you want me to, I can beat out that guy for the presidency and then you'd be the president's wife."

  Natasha pinched him and then glanced at D.M Carter who had tuned them out and was staring in Bancroft's direction with a scowl.

  "Don't you like him?" Natasha asked Carter interestedly.

  Carter laughed bitterly. "I think he's an arrogant waste of space. Not only do I dislike him I really, really detest him."

  "Why?" Natasha asked, her investigative senses kicking into gear.

  D.M. was about to snarl something and then he looked at both her and Taj and murmured, "this is not the time for that. But I tell you the truth, Edward Carlisle might have had his faults but this guy is the pits."

  He saluted them and strolled off.

  Taj exhaled and glanced at Natasha who had a thoughtful look on her face. "One thing for sure, D. M. Carter is not a suspect in this murder."

  "But maybe Bancroft is," Taj said looking in Bancroft's direction again. "Look at him, he loves the whole atmosphere. In his mind he is already the president and I doubt anybody or anything can come in his way."

  Natasha admired Bancroft's erect bearing; the proud angle of his head. He was talking to a group of people and they all stood enthralled. "I don't know. Let’s go over and say hello."

  Taj reluctantly walked up to Bancroft who was laughing and talking with Anita Parkinson.

  "Oh looky here," he said when Taj approached, "it's my other able competitor Taj Jackson."

  "Honey," he turned to his wife, "meet Taj Jackson."

  Celeste smiled at Taj and took his proffered hand warmly. "You look so familiar." She said her smoothly modulated voice resonated with surprise. "If I didn't know better I would say you are a Bancroft."

  Taj shrugged. "I have been hearing that a lot since I came to this school."

  Bancroft looked at Taj assessingly. "I see it too."

  His eyes skittered away and he looked at Natasha. "Aren't you going to introduce us to your date Dr. Jackson? It's a shame to keep a beautiful woman hidden."

  Taj performed the necessary introductions and they chit chatted for a while. Anita Parkinson excused herself, a visiting politician commandeered Bancroft, and Taj and Natasha were left with a curious Celeste.

  She kept staring at Taj and shaking her head. "This is uncanny. I know the saying is that everybody has a double in this world, but I just can't shake the eerie feeling that you look like my husband."

  Taj smiled politely.

  "And you are his competition for the presidency?"

  "Yes ma’am," Taj said solemnly, "poor competition, as your husband keeps pointing out."

  "He does?" Celeste asked appalled, "that's not nice. Is Ryan playing unfair?"

  Taj looked in her lovely face and wondered if she thought that this was a game. "I think he is at his ruthless best." Taj replied diplomatically.

  Celeste shook her head. "Don't let his bark fool you. One time, a long time ago, Ryan was idealistic and gentle. I think under the hard core that you see now is that man."

  "You do know that you are giving the competition valuable advice." Taj pointed out to her gleefully.

  Celeste smiled. "But of course, I don't necessarily want him to get the presidency. I barely see him as it is, can you imagine when he does get this huge responsibility. Besides, the last president died of a heart attack. I don't want my husband to go the same way."

  Natasha had stood there silently, listening. Celeste seemed genuinely concerned about her husband's well being.

  "Anyway, don't listen to a foolish wife speaking," she said. She stared intensely at Taj again, shaking her head. "I must invite you to dinner. You strongly resemble my second son Adrian. What's the word for it? You are his doppelganger."

  Once more Taj felt uneasy with the Bancroft comparison and he looked at Natasha uncomfortably.

  Natasha was busy bopping her head to the orchestra's rendition of ‘Wake Up Everybody’ by Harold Melvin & the Blue Notes. Indeed the instrumental was very infectious and he wondered if he should pinch her hand as she had commanded him to do.

  Celeste squeezed his arm and turned to somebody else who had been standing behind her for a while.

  "Did you get all of that Detective?" he said close to her ear.

  Natasha jumped. "What?"

  Taj shook his head, "you really love the oldies don't you?"

  "I love music in general," Natasha said quickly, "even new ones."

  Taj beamed. "I used to be very up to date on my music trivia. Even med school couldn't quench my trivia love."

  Natasha grinned, and they moved away toward the dance floor. "I can't dance in these shoes so this has to be a rock."

  They moved together for a while and then went in search of refreshments. A waiter offered them drinks and then they went outside on the balcony where chairs were scattered along the breadth of it. People were sitting in groups, laughing, and chatting.

  Natasha sat down thankfully and looked around at the moon lamps. "This is a really nice party. I wonder who planned it."

  Taj sat beside her. "A committee of several persons. Funds are set aside for it in the yearly school budget."

  Natasha looked at him, surprised. "You are studying for your post, man!"

  Taj shrugged. "My father has always emphasized the need to be prepared, and I think I'm belatedly trying to catch up. However, I must tell you I am used to competition. I was o
n my school's track team. I even came first one year in the 200 meters at Champs. That kind of discipline has a tendency to stay with you, you know. Man, it was hard work. I hated every minute of training the last year but I did it. Eventually chose medicine instead though."

  Natasha looked at him thoughtfully. "Sounds as though you are thinking of doing the same here."

  Taj shrugged. "I just don't know." He looked at her softly. "You look really pretty."

  Natasha blushed. "Thank you. You look really pretty too."

  "My ego," Taj said smiling. "Men are not pretty."

  Natasha shook her head. "I don't know, maybe you are the exception. There is a beauty about you though, Dr. Jackson."

  Taj moved closer to her. "So I am back to being Dr. Jackson? Are you subconsciously telling yourself that you have to keep me at a distance?"

  Natasha moved away from him, her heart beating heavily. How did they move from a serious safe conversation to attraction in less than a second? She couldn't handle this kind of thing.

  Taj leaned into her and kissed her on her surprised slightly opened lips.

  "Now this is a great party." He eased back from her and then smiled. "Want to go back and do some more investigating?"

  Natasha nodded slowly. Her lips were tingling and she felt a thrilling rush all over her body.

  Chapter Eleven

  The week after the ball Taj was seriously considering his options. He would have to give up the undergraduate class immediately, and would have to hire a new assistant. He smiled ruefully, as he headed to his office. Natasha was so taken up in her case she was barely going to classes or even pretending to be working on anything other than her investigation. She and Harry had been sporadically using his office as a base.

  He glanced at Anne Carter's empty desk and let himself into his office. He was not surprised to find Natasha ensconced in his chair surfing through her computer and printing papers. She looked up at him with her weary eyes. "I am so tired Taj."

  Taj came into his office and sat down across from her.

  "Why?" he asked concerned. Her usually bright brown eyes were looking blood shot and she had the beginnings of dark circles under her eyes.