Two Days in Caracas

by Luana Ehrlich

  However, if my past relationships with women were any indicator, I knew this kind of lopsided arrangement couldn’t last. In fact, the secrecy involved with being an employee of the CIA was the main reason there were so many in-house romances at the Agency. Couples who had the same security clearances could tell each other everything, whereas, those who couldn’t share their lives with each other, always had to settle for a more superficial relationship.

  Now, sitting across the table from Nikki, I found it difficult not to tell her about the murder of Toby Bledsoe. While doing so might have lessened my burden, it would also have betrayed the oath I’d taken when I joined the Agency.

  That was never going to happen—at least not voluntarily.

  To keep up my side of the conversation, I told her about my visit to my sister’s house the day before, and I followed that with my decision to let Uncle Harold bring a short eulogy at the funeral service.

  “Why does your uncle’s eulogy have to be short?”

  “Well, aside from the fact I’m afraid his early stages of senility might interfere with what he wants to say, I’ve asked a local minister to speak at the service.”

  “A minister? You told me your parents never went to church.”

  Interrogating people was one of Nikki’s specialties, and she was used to asking probing questions and remembering insignificant details. It didn’t surprise me she’d remembered my religious upbringing.

  I nodded. “Yes, it was my idea, but I believe my mother had developed some sort of spiritual relationship before she died. In fact, my sister told me she’d been attending a Bible class at the nursing home. I’ve asked the minister who taught the class to do the service tomorrow.”

  Nikki reached over and squeezed my hand.

  “That’s so wonderful, Titus.”

  I closed my hand over hers, holding onto it for a few minutes, and then I slowly intertwined my fingers with hers.

  When I looked up, it was difficult for me to read the expression on her face. I finally let go of her hand and pushed my plate aside.

  “I have an appointment with the minister at eleven o’clock this morning to discuss the service. Would you like to come with me?”

  “Oh, definitely,” she said.

  But then, she immediately looked concerned. “You may not realize this Titus, but there are all kinds of people calling themselves ministers these days. Do you know anything about this guy’s church or what kind of minister he is?”

  “The name of his church is Living Word Community Church, but I don’t have a clue as to what kind of minister he is. Is that important?”

  “Probably not. I’ll just ask him about it. It’s something he shouldn’t mind telling us.”

  “Come to think of it, Detective Saxon, you’d better let me do the talking. I don’t want this meeting turned into an interrogation.”

  This remark elicited more laughter from her, and I suddenly realized what a complete turnaround my day had taken since Nikki’s arrival.

  Then, just when I thought my day couldn’t get any better, it did.

  Chapter 21

  As Nikki and I drove over to meet with the minister, I mulled over my options of how to introduce her to everyone, and when I finally decided to bring up the subject with her, I began by explaining my family’s perspective on my employment history.

  “My family thinks I’ve always been employed by the Consortium for International Studies. To them, I’m a Senior Fellow in Middle Eastern Programs at CIS. It’s basically the same legend I was living under in Norman when I met you.”

  “You told me CIS had sent you to Norman to coauthor a book with a professor at The University of Oklahoma.”

  “That’s right, so I’m thinking we should stick to that story. You’re certainly familiar with it, and it’s a plausible explanation of how I met you.”

  I stopped at a traffic light and glanced over at her.

  She looked at me with a mischievous smile. “We might need to change the circumstances up a bit, though. I don’t think I should say you were being considered as a possible suspect in a murder case when we met.”

  “That’s probably not a good idea, although a few people around here might actually believe it.”

  “Really? I never pictured you as a law-breaking teenager.”

  I nodded. “Believe me. My temper used to get me in a lot of trouble as a teenager.”

  As I parked the car at the Living Word church, I said, “Why don’t we say we met at church? Technically, that’s the truth.”

  She nodded in agreement. “Stay as close to the truth as possible. That’s how the best criminals stay out of trouble.”

  Criminals and spooks.

  * * * *

  John Townsend, the minister I’d spoken to the previous day, had instructed me to enter the building from the west parking lot and follow the signs for the church office.

  We followed the signs to a reception area, where a secretary led us down a long corridor to the minister’s office.

  However, the secretary referred to it as the pastor’s study.

  Once she had ushered us inside, I understood why it was called a study and not just an office, because, in some ways, it resembled a small library. Bookshelves covered every wall, and the desk in the center of the room was covered in books.

  Even the man behind the desk had a book in his hand, but the moment he saw us, he laid the book aside and walked across the room to greet us.

  “Hi, I’m John Townsend. People around here call me Pastor John.”

  Pastor John was in his early fifties and had a tanned, outdoorsy look about him. That feature, along with his athletic build, seemed to suggest he might play some type of outdoor sport. The pencil holder on his desk was shaped like a golf bag, so I was betting golf was his recreation of choice.

  His blond hair was thick and wavy and accented his deep blue eyes. The wide curve of his mouth made him appear slightly amused, even when he wasn’t smiling.

  While I agreed his broad shoulders and slim physique would certainly qualify him as good-looking, I didn’t find him as handsome as my sister had suggested.

  “I’m Titus Ray, and we spoke on the phone yesterday. This is my friend, Nikki Saxon.”

  He shook hands with both of us, and then he gestured toward a seating area on the other side of the room.

  “Let’s sit down over here. Could I get either of you some coffee or maybe a soft drink?”

  Both Nikki and I declined his offer, and then we took a seat together on a maroon couch, while Pastor John sat in a cushioned armchair. There was a reading lamp behind it, and I imagined him spending several hours a day there reading books from his ample library.

  “You have quite a book collection,” I said.

  “Yes, I’m an obsessive reader, and although I love technology, I don’t enjoy reading books on a mobile device. You’ll notice that most of these books,” he gestured at the bookshelves around the room, “are really trying to explain what’s in this one book.” He took a Bible from a small table located next to his chair and held it up in the air for a minute.

  I said, “Sometimes when I’m reading the Bible, I feel like I need a library this big to understand what it says.”

  “Well, at least you’re reading it,” he said, setting the Bible aside. “I’m afraid I can’t say the same for everyone in my church.”

  Even though I wasn’t sure if I’d engaged in the proper amount of social chitchat before steering the conversation over to the purpose of our meeting, I couldn’t think of anything else to say, so I got to the topic at hand.

  “I realize my mother wasn’t a member of your church, Pastor John, so I appreciate your willingness to conduct her funeral service.”

  “Oh, I’m happy to do it. I saw your mother once a week for a number of years, and that meant I knew her as well as I do some of my own church members.” He felt inside his sports coat and pulled out a notebook. “Now, Titus, when we talked on the phone yesterday, you said
you would leave it up to me to plan the service. However, I thought you might like to choose some songs or Bible verses that were especially meaningful to your mother.”

  I wasn’t sure what to say.

  A few seconds of silence ticked by, and then my training kicked in, and I came up with a plausible lie in response to his question. Although understandable in my line of work, I felt completely ashamed of my reaction.

  Nikki must have sensed my discomfort, because she asked him, “Are there some songs or Scriptures you would recommend for the kind of service you—”

  “To be honest, Pastor John,” I said, interrupting her, “I never knew anything about my mother’s spiritual condition. I’ve only been a believer for a few months, and when we were growing up, our family never went to church. I seldom heard my parents talk about God—except to use his name in a curse word—and I can’t tell you for sure if my mother even believed in God.”

  “Really?” he said, looking genuinely surprised. “I’m amazed to hear you say that, because Sharon seemed to enjoy our Bible studies so much. She hardly ever missed a session, and although it was difficult for me to follow her train of thought sometimes, whenever I spoke to her, she definitely talked about God. In her own way, she seemed to be participating in worship, and from observing her responses, I know for sure there were some songs that really touched her.”

  “So you think she was a believer?”

  He thought about my question for a moment.

  “I don’t really know the answer to that question, Titus. Only God knows who belongs to him. But, if it’s any comfort to you, I know God always does the right thing.”

  “I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.”

  He nodded. “I think you’re probably looking for assurance your mother is in heaven right now. So here’s what I know. No matter how mentally confused she was, if she responded in faith to the voice of God, then he’ll do the right thing and welcome her to his home, because God knows his own children.”

  He looked at me and smiled. “Does that make sense?”

  I nodded. “She tried to talk to me about God once, but that was before I became a believer.”

  The pastor made a couple of notes in his notebook, and then he asked Nikki and me to tell him how we became believers, although he called it being born again.

  Nikki spoke first and told him the story of her childhood conversion. Then, I briefly summarized my own experience, mentioning how I’d met a Christian couple who’d helped me take the first step in my journey of faith.

  He asked us both a few more questions, and before I knew it, we had talked for over an hour.

  “We’ve taken up enough of your time,” I said.

  “It’s been a pleasure talking with both of you,” he said, shaking our hands, “and, Titus, I’ll look forward to meeting the rest of your family tomorrow.”

  As I got up from the sofa, I said, “I’ve asked an uncle who was close to my mother to give a brief eulogy at the funeral tomorrow. He’s supposed to keep it under five minutes. I hope that won’t be a problem.”

  “Oh, no, not at all. I’ll make sure the music is something I think your mother would have liked, and then I’ll bring a short gospel message.”

  I nodded. “Thanks for your help.”

  “Thank you, pastor,” Nikki said. “We’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Let’s have a word of prayer before you go,” he said, holding out his hands to both of us.

  Nikki and I held hands with Pastor John while he prayed for us, and I found myself moved by his words.

  Not only did he pray for my family, he also prayed for Nikki and me. And, although he had no way of knowing what I was facing in the days ahead, he asked for my safety and success as I endeavored to carry out the tasks God had given me to do.

  Safety and success in capturing Ahmed; I liked the thought of that.

  As we walked back to my rental car, I reached out and took Nikki’s hand.

  “Thank you for coming with me.”

  She tightened her grip. “You’re welcome. I enjoyed meeting Pastor John.”

  “You forgot to ask him about his church affiliation.”

  “As soon as he started talking, I decided it didn’t really matter.”

  “He’s certainly easy to talk to.”

  “And a very handsome guy!”

  “Really? You didn’t think his nose was too big?”

  * * * *

  As we drove away from the church, Nikki got a phone call from another detective in the Norman Police Department.

  When I heard her discussing a homicide case they were working on, it occurred to me she might be able to give me some advice about Ernesto’s murder. With that in mind, when we stopped for lunch at a sandwich shop, I chose a booth at the back of the restaurant where we could talk without being overheard.

  After she’d taken a few bites of her tuna sandwich, I said, “I’ve got a hypothetical case for you to unravel, Detective Saxon.”

  She wiped her mouth with the edge of her napkin. “What kind of case?”

  “It’s a homicide.”

  “My favorite.” She quickly made a dismissive motion with her hand. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m always sorry when someone gets murdered.”

  “Of course, I knew that.”

  “Now that we’ve established I’m not a hard-hearted detective, what is your hypothetical case?”

  When she said the word hypothetical, she used her fingers as quotation marks.

  Even though I realized she knew I was picking her brain about my mission, I still fictionalized the homicide for her.

  “A couple of guys were traveling together under the same last name, and they were carrying false identities. However, earlier in their travels, the younger of the two had used his real identity to purchase a vehicle. Let’s say they stop off in ... oh, I don’t know ... perhaps, Norman, where they stay in a short-term apartment. This is where things get ugly.”

  Nikki grabbed some potato chips off my plate. “I can guess what’s coming next.”

  I gently slapped her hand away. “As you’ve anticipated, a murder takes place. In fact, the older guy murders the younger one. There’s no question he did it, so this isn’t a murder for you to solve.”

  “You want me to figure out his motive?”

  “No, that’s not necessary. His motive is obvious.”

  “You’re not leaving me much of a case to solve.”

  “Hang on, let me finish. The murderer locks the door behind him and flees the scene, confident he’ll be far away before his deed is discovered. However, you, Madam Detective, find out about the murder and visit the scene of the crime. You discover the murderer left behind the false identities they were using. There’s no cash around, so you assume he took it all with him. However, he also took the identification item the younger guy had used to purchase the car. Now, what’s your best guess as to—”

  “Wait a minute. I’m sorry for interrupting, but I have to ask. What do you mean by the identification item? Do you mean a driver’s license or something else?”

  I shook my finger at her. “This is hypothetical, Nikki. It might have been a driver’s license. It could also have been a passport. It doesn’t matter what type of identification it was.”

  “Oh, I see. Okay, go ahead.”

  “If you had been assigned this case, and you were trying to locate the murderer or guess what his next move might be, how significant would it be that he took the younger man’s identification?”

  “Hmmm,” she said, considering my question. “I need some time to think about this.”

  “No first impressions?”

  “Not really. Since it’s only hypothetical, you’re not in any rush to hear my answer, are you?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.”

  She glanced down at her watch, “Speaking of being ready, I’d like to go back to the hotel and change my clothes before we go over to the funeral home.”

  “If you’re thinking of put
ting on some fancy clothes in order to impress my family, don’t bother. You’ll impress them no matter what you’re wearing.”

  Not surprisingly, my opinion didn’t seem to make a difference, and she put on some fancy clothes.

  Chapter 22

  When Nikki and I walked in the front door of the funeral home, I waved at Carla, who was standing in the foyer with the funeral director. She seemed very surprised when she realized the beautiful woman walking in with me was someone I actually knew.

  And, I have to admit, I enjoyed her reaction.

  “Carla, Mr. Brown, I’d like you to meet my friend, Nikki Saxon. She flew in yesterday from Oklahoma.”

  Carla, who still looked baffled by Nikki’s presence, accepted Nikki’s condolences, but then she turned to me and said, “Titus, I thought we might have a few minutes alone in the viewing room before anyone else arrives. Eddie will be here with the kids soon, and I’m sure Uncle Harold and Dorothy are right behind them.”

  Nikki gestured toward the lobby’s seating area. “Go ahead. I’ll wait for you over there.”

  Carla and I followed the funeral director down to the viewing room. Once we arrived at the entrance, though, he stopped at the threshold and motioned us inside.

  Carla grabbed my hand as we entered the softly lit room, and the moment the casket came into view, I heard her take a couple of deep breaths.

  I wondered if it was a shock for her to realize it was our mother in the casket.

  I know it was for me.

  As we approached the coffin, I could see Carla’s knees buckle. Thinking she was about to collapse, I put my arm around her waist and held her up as we stood there together looking down at our mother’s peaceful countenance.

  At that moment, I felt as if someone were holding onto me as well. Tears welled up behind my eyes, but it wasn’t sadness I felt. It was joy, because I knew everything was perfect in my mother’s world now.

  Carla, though, was weeping uncontrollably, and I helped her over to a small sofa in a corner of the room.