by Dijorn Moss
Jeremy is a smart kid. He knows exactly what I am talking about and he gives me a head nod. I still am not sure if there is an affair that exists between Jeremy and Pastor Robinson, but at least now I know why Tony Robinson might be jealous of this young man. Jeremy represents who Tony used to be.
Chapter Twelve
Most nights I am restless. I don’t toss and turn in the bed; I just lie there on my back and stare at the ceiling in the dark. My mind can’t seem to settle down. I am too locked into the case and all of the different scenarios that play out in my head to sleep. Luckily, I can perform my job with very little sleep.
When I am asleep that is when the night terrors come. I have dreams of a minister; at least, I assume he is a minister, judging by the traditional clergy robes he wears. He has no eyes, no way I can look at his eyes or judge him. I can’t explain why I have no room to move. It is not like the minister is deformed, but still I can’t escape. I punch at the figure and my hands feel like wet paper bags punching against marble. I know this is a dream, but the terror feels real and my heart tries to escape from my chest.
I wake up and sweat has drenched my shirt and my forehead. I roll out of bed and I fall to my knees. “Lord, I need you. I need your peace, which surpasses all understanding. I need your peace, give me peace! Lord!”
I try to pray, but images implode within my brain. I get up and I go over to the wet bar and I grab a few miniatures of that brown liquor. I take the miniature bottles by the throat and twist the cap. I bypass a cup and knock back the first bottle and then the second one.
I have little tolerance for weakness, including my own. I hate the fact that I seek comfort in the bottle. I grab a few more bottles and repeat the process of taking the drink to the head. I don’t know which drink causes me to fall asleep, but all I do know is that the sun is my alarm clock. The bright beams once again peek through the curtains and cause me to get up. I stagger out of bed and close the blinds.
I then fall face first back onto the bed and go to sleep. I don’t have any appointments schedule for today so that will give me time to recover. Besides, I can’t go around church folks smelling like a bar.
It isn’t long before there is a knock on the door. I stagger out of bed and head toward the door but the knocks feel like sledgehammers hitting the door.
“I’m coming! Hold on!”
I open the door and Spider is on the other side. I thank God that I am not a criminal because Spider’s stature is quite imposing.
“We need to talk.” Spider does not wait for an invitation. He uses his girth to force his way into the room.
“Okay, come on in.” I close the door with one eye still squinting. Spider has already helped himself to one of my cigarettes on the table.
“So what’s up?” I ask.
“I can’t find your boy.” Spider lets out a trail of smoke from the cigarette.
“What?” I ask.
Spider gets up and starts to pace the floor. That is the last thing that I expect to come out of his mouth. One time Spider found a man who hid himself underneath a tree trunk. There was another time when Spider found a ninety-pound woman, suspected of murder, hidden in the air vents of her job. Spider’s success is that he looks in places that most police officers would not suspect someone to hide in. To get a lock on Tony Robinson does not seem that hard of a task for someone like Spider.
“What happened?” I ask.
“I’ve checked all over and there’s not a trace of him. At least nothing that’s within a week ago. He’s gone man.”
This is an unfortunate turn of events. The last thing I need is for Spider to be unsuccessful in his mission. “Are you sure you can’t find him? Maybe he left town like what we originally thought.”
“If he had left town, I would’ve known. I’ve checked everywhere: bus stations, train stations, airports, and rental cars. Nothing! I checked with close family, friends, and coaches and no one has seen or heard from him for at least the last week.”
I don’t mean to question Spider’s skills but I am trying to wrap my brain around the fact that an average Joe slipped through the fingers of a skilled recovery agent.
“There’s something we need to start considering, Nic.”
“What’s that?” I ask.
“That your boy may have been murked.”
It seems like my heart forgets to beat for a full minute. I am familiar with the urban term “murk.” Spider means that the first gentleman might have been murdered.
Chapter Thirteen
Murder! The word alone chills my blood. The first gentleman couldn’t have been murdered. I have worked a lot of cases and I have found myself in a lot of odd situations, but never have I encountered a murder. I have no intentions of getting mixed up in a murder. There has to be another reason why no one has either seen nor heard from Tony Robinson in over a week.
“You can’t be serious,” I say to Spider.
“I wish I wasn’t but no one disappears for two weeks without leaving town, and I can’t find him.” Spider paces the floor and flicks ash from the cigarette as he paces.
“I met with Pastor Robinson yesterday and she said that there had been no activity made on their bank accounts,” I say.
“Correction—no one disappears for two weeks without leaving town or withdrawing any money from their bank accounts.”
“This can’t be happening.” I start to pace the floor and, as a result, I grab a cigarette and light it.
“I know it sounds farfetched, but in my line of work the only people with no activity are the ones who have been buried six feet under. The ones in hiding are constantly moving and that’s what creates a trail, but your boy’s trail turns cold after a week.”
“There has to be another reason.”
“There’s not,” Spider replies.
“There has to be, Spider! Don’t tell me that a pastor’s husband has been murdered. That doesn’t make sense. What secrets could she possibly have that would cause someone to end Tony’s life? end Tony’s life?”
“People have done more for less.”
Spider is right. I hate that he is right, but Spider is right. Tony Robinson’s activity has been strange and his disappearance has been even stranger. The fact that he has not used any of his bank accounts or credit cards is even stranger. It just doesn’t add up.
“What was this guy involved in?” Spider asks.
“Nothing. Everything I had on him I gave to you. He’s a software engineer and the first gentleman of the church.”
Spider finally takes a seat down in the chair and I sit down on the edge of the bed. This information is heavy and I know that there is something that Spider and I have overlooked, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Is it possible that he had a gambling addiction or drug habit?” Spider asks.
“No. I would’ve known and his wife would’ve told me. We need to take a step back and look at this situation in a different light. Tony obviously doesn’t want to be found, so the immediate circle of family and friends are out. There must be someone else he trusts and knows he could turn to for help in a situation like this.”
Spider scratches his goatee and I scratch the back of my head. My information on Tony and his list of contacts is pretty expansive. I am certain that someone would’ve seen him within the last two days, but Spider has nothing, and the theory that foul play is at work seems a lot more viable.
“So what do you want me to do now?” Spider asks.
I stand up and Spider stands up at the same time. “Wait. I’m headed to the church to see what more I can dig up. I’ll call you when I got something, but for now, wait.”
“All right. I got you.”
I drive to the church with my original plan being severely derailed. I had plans to go to the church and meet up with Spider later to track down the first gentleman’s whereabouts. I had no idea that Spider would appear and tell me that he can’t find Tony Robinson. So when I arrive at the church I make a beeline t
o Pastor Robinson’s office.
I knock on the door and Minister Blackwell opens the door. Pastor Robinson is there going over her documents.
“We need to talk.” I look at Minister Blackwell. “Alone.”
“Give us a minute,” Pastor Robinson says to Minister Blackwell. Minister Blackwell takes his leave. I help close the door behind Minister Blackwell.
“What seems to be going on, Minister Dungy?”
“My guy can’t find your husband.”
“I thought you said he could find anything.”
“He can, which leads him to believe that your husband might’ve been murdered.”
That sparks the first semblance of emotions from Pastor Robinson. “Murder!”
“I’m glad that I have your attention. If your husband has been murdered that means you got a lot more problems to worry about than your husband not showing up to church.”
The news of Tony Robinson’s possible death has caused Pastor Robinson to get out of her chair and pace the floor. “Lord Jesus! Lord, please don’t put that on me.”
I just want to rattle Pastor Robinson’s cage and get her to be more involved in providing useful information. I had long suspected that there is something that Pastor Robinson is hiding. I now have my doubts.
“I need to know who was having an affair and if there have been any threats made on either of you.”
“No one cheated that I know of and the only threats I receive are the ones that state that I’m going to hell for being a woman preacher.”
I turn around and I head toward the door. I don’t have time for games. I can walk and pocket the money that I already made from this job.
“I didn’t cheat on my husband, but my husband did cheat on me. At least I think he has!”
That last statement stops me dead in my tracks. “How do you know?” I ask with my back still turned.
“A wife always knows when she’s lost her husband. It’s just up to her whether she wants to admit it.”
I roll my eyes because I don’t need a Lifetime Movie Network soliloquy. “Who?” I ask.
“I don’t know for sure.”
“Then give me an educated guess.”
“Sister Deborah. She’s known as Ms. Fast Panties throughout the church and she used to flirt with my husband just to spite me.”
“Did she succeed?”
“Sometimes. I’m only human.”
“Did she enrage you to the point where you felt like doing something? You felt like taking it out on your husband?”
“Why would you ask me that?”
“Because you have a missing husband, $150,000 from an unknown source, and more questions than answers.”
Pastor Robinson makes a choking gesture with her hands and then clasps them together like she is about to pray. “What does it matter how you got paid? The check cleared and you took the job. Now do your job! Find my husband!” Pastor Robinson slams her hand down on the desk and keeps it there to hold herself up. The news that the man she loves may never return home, I can imagine, is more than unsettling. “Oh, God, Lord, please bring my husband back to me.”
It is as if I have left the room. Pastor Robinson starts pacing the floor. She is beside herself and I have to suspend the hardball questions for a moment to get more information on Ms. Fast Panties.
“Why do you suspect your husband is having an affair with this woman? Why haven’t you asked him about her?”
“I don’t know. Because I had too much pride to ask. I don’t want to sound weak or insecure.”
“Pride goes before a fall, and right now your ministry is falling,” I say.
I am perplexed and do not know what to do, but I need to pick up the cold trail so Spider can find where Pastor Robinson’s husband is hiding.
“You have to find him. You have to; I can’t help people if my life is jacked up.”
“I’m going to take your word for it that you didn’t cheat on your husband, but there is something between you and your husband that you’re not telling me. It shouldn’t take the possibility of your husband being murdered for you to care all of a sudden. We got a tough road ahead and that’s after I find your husband.”
“If you were married would you ask your wife to give up her dream? That’s what Tony asked of me every day. Every day he told me that I had no business being on that pulpit. Now we put on a good show in front of the congregation, but he was anything but a supporting husband.”
“First things first, Pastor. First we find your husband, and then we work on your marriage.”
I am sure that if I can get the Robinsons in a room together then I can get them to reconcile. Pastor Robinson seems willing to overlook the affair and it is just a matter of convincing Tony that his wife did not have an affair.
“Bible Study is tonight.”
That statement comes out of left field. Who is teaching tonight’s Bible Study is the last thing on my mind.
“Yes. Minister Blackwell is supposed to teach,” I say.
“I think you should teach,” Pastor Robinson says.
I don’t know what shocks me more: Pastor Robinson making a suggestion; or that Pastor Robinson’s suggestion is that I teach tonight’s Bible Study.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa! I haven’t taught a Bible Study since the Clinton administration.”
“But you are, among other things, an ordained minister. People are starting to ask questions regarding your appearance, and Sister Deborah would be interested in you.”
“Listen, I can get what I need to get from Sister Deborah without having to get up on the pulpit.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong but aren’t you a minister?”
Standing in front of Pastor Robinson I realize that she is the only real minister in the room and that is a hard pill to swallow. I traded my calling for secrets and money. I have gone far off the path that I originally wanted to go. I know I am a Christian, though not a good one. I know that I love God, but I have a level of disdain for His people, so, no, I am not a minister, I am a cover-up artist.
“Yes, I am. I am a minister,” I lie.
“Then you should be ready to answer the call when the call is made. And I would think that you would want to be done with this job as fast as possible.”
I hate to admit it, but Pastor Robinson has a point. I need to get close to Sister Deborah to find out what she knows. “So what is tonight’s Bible Study about?”
“Grace and mercy,” Pastor Robinson says.
Grace and mercy, that’s what I will need to get through tonight’s Bible Study.
“I’ll do it. I’ll teach tonight’s class.”
I sit in an available office and pore over the scriptures. I sweat up a storm. My taste buds crave a cigarette and a drink. I have no problems functioning in my original capacity as a Mr. Fix-it. I can walk into a roomful of power players and tell them where to go and what to do without blinking, but a simple Bible Study lesson has me sweating like a high school student about to take the SATs.
Strange how it’s been twenty years since my ordination and I am just now using my title for its original purpose. I remember a time when all I wanted to do on a Tuesday or a Wednesday was study the Bible and prepare a Bible Study lesson. That is, until I realized that ministry is not about being able to get up and perform.
Most people see a T.D. Jakes, Creflo Dollar, or a Billy Graham and they think that it’s easy to preach the Word. The truth about ministry is that it requires one to get their hands dirty. It requires someone to look into the muck and be willing to put their hands into the muck to save a life. I found that out a little too late.
A knock on the door disrupts my flow and derails my thought process.
“Come on in,” I say without looking up from my notes.
The door opens and Minister Blackwell enters the room. “It’s about that time. You’ll go up after Kanisha leads praise and worship.”
“Who?” I ask.
“One of Pastor’s projects. She’s real specia
l. Pastor Robinson lets her lead praise and worship on some of the Bible Studies.”
Under normal circumstances I would care to explore more details regarding this Kanisha character, but I have work to do. I place the legal-size note tablet in the middle of my Bible and close it. I get up and follow Minister Blackwell out of the office and into the lobby. I pass by the same greeter from the other night with the infectious smile.
“Good evening. God Bless you!” the greeter says.
I stop and pivot toward the woman. “God bless you; and what’s your name, sister?”
“Victory! Victory Morgan.” Victory extends her hand and I shake it. I feel a nudge in my back and realize that it is Minister Blackwell urging me on.
“This way, Minister Dungy,” Minister Blackwell says.
Despite my reluctance, I follow Minister Blackwell into the sanctuary. I enter the sanctuary like a heavyweight boxer heading to a title fight. I have on the same collar shirt I wore earlier. I didn’t have time to change. I enter the sanctuary and Kanisha is leading a small group in a Gospel rap.
“Say OWW. Give it up for Jesus!” Kanisha says before she starts rapping.
I understand why Minister Blackwell referred to Kanisha as special. I take a seat next to Pastor Robinson and observe this buffoonery. Kanisha’s appearance tells an exhaustive story. She has tattoos all over her body from her neck down. Most of her tattoos are carefully hidden. My hair is both longer and less vibrant than Kanisha’s honey blond hair. I would’ve figured her to be a lesbian back in the day, but today’s youth does some of the strangest things that I can’t begin to explain. The song concludes and Kanisha takes a moment to catch her breath.
“I just wanted to give an honor to God and my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ for saving me and bringing me a mighty long ways. I know that without Him I’m nothing and I want to thank God for our pastor, Pastor Robinson.” Kanisha is still out of breath. “If it wasn’t for her speaking and pouring into my life, God knows where I would be. So thank you, Pastor Robinson, for not judging me, and thank you, Jesus, for sending this awesome woman into my life. I love you and I want to be like you when I grow up,” Kanisha says.
