The Deacon and the Shield

by John E. Howard

  From Eddy: Happiness is a frame of mind that welcomes great joy into my life. I was exonerated by my accuser of harassment and justifiably reinstated at the law firm, with promotion. My family situation is healing. I’ll be home shortly. I visited my Christian church. It’s still there in service. They would be happy for my return – they miss my voice in the choir. My college buddy, Detective Lt. Sam Holler, wants to play golf with me, like old times. I don’t have as many nightmares. I feel like I can make it this time, so what could go wrong?

  I was busy trying to catch up on a big pile of paperwork when that phone on the wall started again – what now? Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, and ring! “Hello, this is Eddy Riffle.”

  “Eddy, this is Jonnie! No phone joking this time. I just checked our lottery ticket and man you better sit down – we won! I checked the numbers and we have them all.”

  “Jonnie, my favorite brother of all time, how much did we win?”

  “It’s about two million dollars each. I can’t believe it. Finally, we got the cash to live like we want, financially anyway.”

  “Man, you got to be kidding! Are you double-sure?”

  “This is no time to kid – we won, I checked already by phone.”

  “Wow, now I can pay off my girl’s Ivy League college bills and give Ellie some peace of mind. It feels good, even great, to be sort of rich. Keep that ticket safe and I’ll be right over. We need to hit the lottery office and get it recorded and then spread the good news.”

  Driving across town to my brother’s place, I starting thinking about what I was going to do with all that money. Getting greed out of your system takes time and effort. I found myself replacing all the good in my brain with thoughts about a vice here and there. But the trick is to make such thoughts pass and not linger. It’s difficult but it’s a must-do. For me, it takes a crowbar but I’m managing to pry out those thoughts.

  Pulling in the driveway, I was met by Jonnie and he was in a hurry. “Let’s get out of here. Company is on the way and they know I have the ticket. I messed up and told my racing bookie that I hit a lucky streak and could pay off. I couldn’t help it, he pressed me for what I owe to the syndicate, and I let the cat out of the bag. He knows about the four million bucks!”

  Jonnie then jumped into the front seat and I drove away fast: “Looks like he would be satisfied to get what you owe him. Why is he chasing us?”

  “He wants it all – at least a big share, for interest. That’s the way his kind works. If they get a sap like me on the hook, they own him now and forever. Sorry, Eddy, but that’s what it is and I have to deal with it.”

  I could see that Jonnie was scared, so I reached under my coat and pulled out my secret protection – my .38-caliber police-special revolver. “Here, take this! If we get to the lottery office and record the ticket then we’re safe for the time being and your bookie will have to wait for his take. I have my 45 in my belt but these weapons are only for protection. I repeat: We are not going to use them! They are for show and self-defense only! It’s against God’s law to kill anyone needlessly. So, don’t use that rod unless our lives are in absolute danger and no way out. That’s an order, little brother!”

  I drove fast but not reckless. I didn’t want a police car chasing us because of a traffic violation. We arrived at the lottery office that was located in the middle of town. Plenty of people were milling around the streets plus a cop’s deli hangout was located across the street. It was lunchtime. And, the police were partaking of the specialty – chili hot dogs.

  We rushed into the lottery office and slapped down that ticket. Not sure about what to say when one turns in a four-million-dollar winner, we hesitated. “Yahoo!” was all that came out of my mouth and a “you betcha!” came from Jonnie. The clerk said she had heard it all before. She just wanted the winning ticket.

  Luckily, I had my briefcase which contained all the forms needed to set up the necessary legal trusts and secure the winnings. My family was getting my money and no gambler was about to outsmart me. It didn’t take long for all the paperwork, trusts, and certifications to be completed and we officially became safe millionaires. It was a case of rags to riches, poor-man to rich-man, and from pauper to prince. We were all those things except dumb man to smart man!

  Gushing with joy, we headed outside that lottery office and right into a conflict of interest. We were going to keep our money and someone else wanted to take it. Jonnie’s bookie and a few of his associates were standing beside their flashy cars and looked unhappy. “How you doin’, Jonnie?” shouted the one who was obviously the boss.

  Jonnie whispered: “His name is Roddy Shaw and he’s the local Vegas money bookie and strong-arm man. He’s nasty business when he wants to be. We better take it slow and easy. I owe him about $100,000 bucks but his interest rate climbs fast, too fast for my liking. He’ll get his 100 Gs and that’s all – no more interest.”

  “How did you get so far in debt to that rat? I guess you didn’t pay attention to your big brother’s preaching? After this is over, I’ll punch your ears down some, but not much.” We both snickered a little. We were always close – wrestling and silly bro stuff.

  Jonnie yelled out: “I’m fair-to-middling, Roddy. But I know why you are here and it won’t work. It’ll take a few weeks for the dough to get here and then with all the taxes and whatnots, it will just be enough to pay you off – all 100 big ones! All I’ll have left is some pocket change and track money. It’s a case of take it or leave it. Is that a deal?”

  Roddy was not amused with Jonnie’s offer and reached for his pistol. His employees did the same. Jonnie and I did the same. There we all stood with weapons pointing at each other. No one flinched. Roddy Shaw knew that if he shot us, he would get nothing. Also, he correctly guessed that we would not shoot because we are not natural-born murderers, like him. So, we all stayed calm but itchy.

  It became a classic standoff with no one having anything to gain by firing their weapons. We slowly put them back in their place of hiding. And, it helped that those police cars sitting at the deli were facing in our direction. “Thankfully, no one pushed the panic button!” Instead there was some loud yelling and some unnerving threats and innuendos. Jonnie and I felt a little safer because our newest buddies, the police, were now intently watching. With this in mind, we backed away and slid into our car knowing that this was not over. I was particularly worried about their warning concerning my family’s health. That part had me bothered and feeling queasy to think about what could happen.

  On the way home, Jonnie and I decided to lay low until the lottery office completed their requirements. The wire transfers and legal stuff needed to clear the banks. It was unpleasant to think about the consequences that might come from Roddy Shaw, but we had no choice. We had to be alert and ready for anything.

  A few days passed and I heard nothing concerning the situation until I picked up the daily paper to read the headlines: “Man named Roddy Shaw, notorious Vegas business personality, killed in back alley shootout. He was shot one time and apparently died instantly. No suspects are in custody at this time. Police are investigating all clues.”

  “Brother Jonnie, what have you done?”

  I busied myself by packing into boxes what little stuff that I actually owned. I wanted to get home to Ellie. Still, no word from Jonnie. I paced the floor, wrung my hands, prayed for his safety and hoped it wasn’t him that committed that murder. It’s not like him to commit such a thing unless he had no choice and was backed into a corner.

  I had to take my mind off Jonnie, so I dove into a pile of unpaid bills – that ought to do it. “I just hope that Jonnie is alright.”

  This time the phone on the wall shook me: ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, and ring! The rings were haunting because I could feel that it was bringing me bad news. “Hello.”

  “Eddy, this is Detective Sam Holler. I have some bad news. Your brother Jonnie was found dead and floating in the bay. Sorry, but there’s no easy way to
let you know. It appears to be gang related. I’d like for you to come down immediately for a statement. You are implicated but I don’t know in what way. You can help us to sort out this whole mess.”

  I was shaken to the core. “My brother Jonnie is gone. Why did this happen? We just won all that money and just wanted to enjoy the fruits of lavish spending.”

  I collected myself and with a quivering voice: “O.K. Sam, I’m on the way.”

  Sam: “I’m sorry, buddy. Wish I didn’t have to be the one to do this.”

  Down at police headquarters, Sam greets: “Eddy, brace yourself. I might as well come to the point. Your .38 police-special revolver was found on Jonnie’s body. And, after ballistic tests, it was determined that this revolver was the same one that shot a hole in the back of a pastry shop. It was not used to help kill Roddy Shaw. Your brother missed.”

  Sam needed answers: “I knew right off that this was your weapon, but I don’t know how Jonnie got possession. Also, the weird part: A single rifle slug actually killed Roddy Shaw. The markings are identical to the bullet that got The Employer. It came from a sniper’s M24. The question is, who pulled the trigger? Were you involved? I have to ask. Do you need a lawyer? You have a right to have one present.”

  “No, Sam, you know that I’m a lawyer so I can represent myself. I must confess that I gave the pistol to Jonnie for self-defense. He was in mob trouble due to gambling debts and they were after him. You won’t believe this next part: We won four million dollars in the lottery and Roddy Shaw was after the money. I don’t know why or if Jonnie killed Roddy Shaw, but I guess that’s what happened. The mob must have paid Jonnie back, I suppose. Now, I don’t know if they are after me or not, or my family. I had nothing to do with the shooting. I could not do such a thing. I don’t believe in sniper work – that’s killing.”

  Sam would have booked me right then if he had any proof or any substantial reason to believe that I did a sniper hit. Then, he shocked me when he reached into his blazer pocket and pulled out an envelope. He paused and then handed it to me. “This is why I’m releasing you for the time being. It was sent to me from your brother and seems to exonerate you. It’s a good thing that he wrote this note, or the circumstantial evidence would have jailed you for a long stretch. Also, the DA wanted to book you on charges but finally took my advice and is letting you go with her warning: Don’t leave town! Don’t give me a reason!”

  The letter read: “Brother, I’m so sorry that I got you and your family involved with my gambling situation. After thinking it over, I felt that the only way to get you out of this mess was to work it out with Roddy Shaw. I met him alone in the alley. He drew first but I shot first. The rest will be in the papers. This letter is to inform whomever that Eddy Riffle had no part in the ‘shooting’ of Roddy Shaw. I did it on my own, in self-defense, and without anyone’s advice. I’m solely responsible! Sorry, brother. I hope this clears you, at least legally. And, if the bookie’s men contact you, show them this letter and maybe they will let you slide. If you are reading this then I must be gone for good. I goofed!”

  I folded a copy of the letter and put in my pocket and was headed back to my office when I got this weird feeling to go check on my family and make sure that they were safe. And, they needed to know about Jonnie. Besides, the gamblers think that I had a part in this ordeal. They are probably after me.

  I drove slowly down their street. My eyes were darting back and forth trying to see if there was anything unusual or out of place. I didn’t notice anything alarming, so I parked in front of the house. I turned off the key, opened the door, and started up the driveway. Around the corner of the garage came several armed men.

  One yelled: “So, you thought that you and your sap of a brother could get Roddy and get away scot free. It doesn’t work that way! You must pay, and you will pay! You and your whole family will suffer the price – compliments of your former associate, The Employer! It’s time to collect the rent!”

  I became desperate: “Wait, I have this letter that proves I had nothing to do with Roddy Shaw getting shot!”

  But it was too late and when I reached into my pocket for the letter, the gang reacted by raising their weapons with intent to shoot. I had no choice but to grab my .45 pistol. But something kept my finger from pulling the trigger. It only took an instant to realize that I would not shoot. I could not force myself ever again to take another’s life even at the expense of my own.

  I tried to jump behind my car. I heard the tat, tat, tat of rounds breaking glass. It was no use. Helpless, I felt the sting of bullets ripping my clothing and flesh and then everything went black as I closed my eyes – it’s over!

  Chapter Eighteen

  “Eddy Near Death”

  “Above it stood the seraphims: each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly.” Isaiah 6:2.

  “The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much.” James 5:16.

  “What man is there of you, whom if his son ask bread, will he give him a stone? Matt.” 7:9.

  “Eddy Near Death”

  Eddy Riffle lies shot and near death in Orlando Regional Hospital. Doctors stated on record that he should be dead. Shot several times by a gang of thugs, he somehow clings to life and just maybe dodged that fatal bullet. After extensive surgery, blood transfusions, and an all-out effort by medical professionals, hope clings to a last-ditch effort: “Prayer!”

  What happened: Eddy got hit hard and went down! Lying in his own blood in his wife’s driveway, he was in need of mercy because a hailstorm of bullets was ricocheting in every direction. Still conscience and with pistol in hand, he could have returned their fire but refused to shoot back. Without defense, he was headed for the morgue. But the would-be killers were abruptly halted in their assignation attempt – they could not complete their mission. A fierce and defiant angel appeared and defiantly stood between the assassins and their bleeding target.

  The angel covered Eddy with his giant bulletproof battle wings preventing further damage. An imposing foe, the angel stood eight-foot-tall and had six wings of fluffy white. And in his hand, the angel possessed a fighting sword that flamed with fire and was swifter than the eye could follow. One by one the assailants attacked the angel but their bullets mysteriously missed. And for their efforts, they were either hacked or slashed until they lost what little nerve they possessed and fled. Many heads would have been severed that day if the angel had been vengeful but instead, he was merciful. Without his intervention, it would have been a disaster. The Riffle family was safely inside the house. It was Sunday and they were all together.

  A helpless man’s thoughts: “Here I am – lying in my own blood that’s shooting from my body like a sieve. It hasn’t occurred to me yet that my body is about to die – naivety, I guess. My stomach began to turn sour and my head started throbbing. I was losing it fast and my alarm button was pushed. I could not think. What’s must I do? Nothing came to my frantic mind but hang on and hope for help.”

  The angel approached the fallen Eddy and placed his hands on the wounds and the severe bleeding subsided. He then gently stroked Eddy’s head and called out his name. Eddy was awakened and painfully spoke: “Am I still alive? Are you an angel? You come to get me?”

  The angel did not speak. He closed Eddy’s eyes with his hands so he could rest because his wounds were severe and he would need a miracle to survive. He was barely alive when the ambulance arrived on the scene. He was transported to the hospital emergency entrance and into surgery. The angel left as mysteriously as he arrived. Hallucination or for real?

  During treatment, that much-needed medical miracle occurred when Eddy stopped all bleeding just short of no return. But with the severity of the wounds and because of the blood loss, he developed a high fever and evolved into comatose. Doctors could not provide a guarantee that he would ever return to a conscious state. It could be that last straw!

  Doctor Marsh, Eddy�
��s surgeon, arrived at the waiting room: “Mrs. Riffle, your husband has developed a high temperature. It’s very serious and he will remain in a coma while his body fights. I do not know how or why he did not bleed to death lying on your driveway. It was a blessing, for sure.”

  Ellie bending over Eddy in the ITC unit and talking to herself: “He looks so helpless, with all the tubes and wires and instruments. He has always been so strong and self-reliant. He’s never been physically injured this bad before. I thank the Lord that he is still alive.”

  Eddy mumbles: “Ellie, an angel saved me and Bob a long time ago. He just saved me again. He’s here now. He’s over there. Do you see him?”

  “No, honey, I don’t, but it doesn’t mean he is not there. I believe you.”

  Dr. Marsh enters the ITC: “How’s our patient doing?”

  “He seems to be a little disoriented. And why is he talking about an angel that he seems to know? He said that it saved him twice! Then he went back to sleep.”

  Dr. Marsh scratches his head: “It’s hard to tell. His temperature must go down to normal levels first and then his visions should clear up. If he is willing to fight hard enough, he should recover. Probably there won’t be any significant brain impairment but there is always a chance. But he might talk a little nonsense for a while because of the high fever. And, because of his condition, he could experience some whopper dreams. He could visualize things that are not there or talk about events that did not occur – like his angel visits. But it was a close call and we should be grateful that he survived. Right now, he is probably experiencing quite an ordeal.”

  “Thank you so much, doctor. We will go home and let him rest. Please, please call us when to come back. We want to be here when he wakes up. He will be so glad to see the girls and grandkids fussing over him. He will need our TLC.”