A Good Excuse To Be Bad (20 page)

“You don't believe she did it?”

“You know my sister. God himself would have to come down, put the knife in Ava's hands, then bless her to kill and force her hand to do it.”

Elvis's eyes widened. “Blessed to kill? Wow . . .” His eyes wondered off. “So you're searching for another suspect?”

“I want to, but Ava insists that I don't.”

“Why?”

“I was hoping you could tell me that, among other things.”

“I don't follow.”

“Ava and I haven't been close in a long time.”

“Since the article you wrote about the bishop?” he asked.

My chest tightened. I turned to Justus. “Yeah, that.”

Elvis patted my hand. His were warm and steady. “You were just trying to protect your sister like you're doing now. In fact, I wouldn't be working here had it not been for that investigation. Besides, from what I hear, the church grew stronger and you resigned because of it, right? Why would anyone hate you for that? I don't understand why you haven't returned to the church. From what I hear, they missed you . . . miss you.”

His eyes didn't flinch. I wanted so bad to believe him, but I didn't trust Big Faith's hired men. God was still working through me on that one.

I checked my watch. “We have to go, but I'll talk to you later.”

“Of course.”

We stood up. Justus walked me toward the front, his hand on my back again. I welcomed it. I turned toward him and smiled. He smiled back. Our first fight was over.

Emma stood at the exit. She handed me a white box, which felt very warm in my hands.

“Emma packed you some cinnamon rolls to take to the kids,” Elvis said.

“That's sweet. Thank you,” I said to them both.

Emma handed me a Styrofoam cup. “And some peach tea for you.”

I couldn't help but laugh. English tea was not my thing. “Thanks again. I wish I were here under better circumstances, like to eat all this good smelling food . . .”

Elvis smiled. “Once everything's settled. You are more than welcome to visit again.”

“That would be nice. But before I go, can I speak with you outside for a minute?”

“No worries . . .” He opened the door.

I didn't have time to do any adequate research on Elvis Bloom, but so far I could conclude he had just charmed the stress right off me. He followed us to my car. I unlocked the door and placed the rolls in the backseat. I wished I ordered something to take on the road for myself. That cinnamon roll and tea hadn't quite hit the spot.

I turned to Elvis. His eyes were tearing again. Devon's death must have him pretty shaken up. “I need to ask you something that you won't like.”

Justus cleared his throat.

Elvis blinked. “What is it?”

“Is Greater Atlanta distancing themselves from my sister?”

His cheeks reddened. “Believe me, it was not my decision.”

“I don't know if I can believe you like Ava does.”

His jaw clinched. Ooh, I hit a sore spot. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“I don't know you well enough to do that, Elvis, but what I do know is you're not just Devon's go-to guy. And I know you wouldn't dare share those problems with me.”

“Is that all?”

“I also know you love your sisters, so I know you understand how I felt this morning when I was told that the church—the one my sister and my brother-in-law founded and devoted their lives to—would let her sit in jail another day.”

He lowered her head. “I told them that was a mistake.”

“You told who?”

“The trustees.”

“No, you were wrong.”

He looked up. “I was?”

“You go back and tell them it's a publicity nightmare.”

His brows creased. “Are you going to talk to the press?”

“No, Elvis. I am the press, and this kind of story would definitely get me back on the good foot with the
Sentinel
.”

Justus mumbled, “I thought you didn't want that life anymore?”

I shushed him. Justus cleared his throat and turned away from us.

Elvis tucked his hands in his front jeans pockets and sighed. “What do you want me to do?”

“Get Ava on tomorrow's docket. Apparently she still doesn't have a number. And bring some of that delicious food out to the house for the family later this week. My partner and I are going to be too busy finding the real killer to be cooking.”

Justus mumbled something I couldn't understand.

“That's all?” Elvis asked.

“No, do you have contact information for Rachel Newton?”

He shook his head. His eyes didn't flinch, but his pinky finger twitched. “No, I don't.”

“I don't believe that either.”

He walked toward me, leaned toward me, and whispered, “I want to help you, but that information I don't have. I've never had it; only your sister and the bishop had her number.”

Weird,
I thought. “Do you know why I'm looking for her?”

He nodded. “I've heard the rumors.”

“But you won't confirm or deny?”

He nodded. “I'm the bishop's assistant, not his confidant. That would be Lady Ava.”

“Or his armor bearer?”

“One and the same.” He grinned and looked back toward the restaurant. “I would like to be more of service, but I have to help my sisters complete an order. They have a wedding to service today.”

“Could you do one teeny favor for me? It won't take long.”

He stepped back and straightened his collar. “Of course.”

“Who's this Rachel person?”

“She's just a member of Greater Atlanta. She was one of Lady Ava's armor bearers.”

“Do you think I could speak to one of the armor bearers? I need to purchase some nice clothes for Ava. What she wore when the police took her into custody wasn't meant to leave the bedroom.”

“And what Angel left for her to wear wasn't meant to leave her car trunk.” Justus scoffed.

I glanced at him. We had gotten a bit too comfortable with one another. I nudged him.

“Will do,” Elvis said.

“Thanks so much.” I shook his hand. “Can you have that person call me tonight?”

He nodded. “I can do better than that. If you want, you can meet them tonight. The armor bearers usually have their weekly meeting tomorrow, but with our tragedy, the women have been wanting to pray for Lady Ava, the family, and the church. Your presence could bring joy and confidence in this time of sorrow. If you like, I could request they come to your home tonight in lieu of tomorrow evening's meeting.”

Boy, he knew how to lay it on thick. He reminded me of Devon for a minute.

“I would love to, but the kids are there, and they don't know what has happened to their parents. And I don't want them to know just yet.”

Justus reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and handed Elvis his card. “Have them come to our church in Sugar Hill. They can meet and pray there without the children being involved.”

No, we won't.
I gasped.
We can't meet there.

Elvis turned to me. “Are you all right?”

I didn't realize he heard me or that my mouth had gaped open again.

Justus cut in. “No, obviously she's under a lot of stress today and with little sleep.” His eyes were still on Elvis. “We'll see you later. Thanks for your time.”

Elvis nodded and returned back inside.

After Elvis left, I turned to Justus. “We need to talk.”

“Not here we don't. Let's go. We have some things to do before the ladies come to Sugar Hill tonight.”

Oh, no. He didn't just shush me. I threw my hands on my hips. “We're not meeting at Sugar Hill, and I don't need an escort or someone to think for me. Did I ask you to do that?”

“You didn't have to, but let me tell you something.” He came closer. His nose almost touched mine. “I'm helping you, not because I'm feelin' you, but because you need it. Lord, help me. You need my help.”

“You have a crush on me?”

“Isn't it obvious?”

“I don't know. Sometimes, like now, I don't think you like me.”

“I don't like your views about the church, but that's mainly because you don't know any better.”

I looked at him. “Say what?”

“You don't know everything, Evangeline Crawford.”

“But what if it's true? We're living in hard times right now. Gas is high, the price of eggs is high, jobs low, mortgages . . . Come on now . . . People need Jesus. So they go on a hope and a prayer that they'll find him there, and what do they get? Some power hungry nut job squeezing the last bit of faith out of them all for some pocket change to hide in an offshore account on some poor island.”

“Where are you getting all this from?”

“At church. Why aren't you getting it? What's wrong with you?”

“What's wrong with me?” He lifted my chin with his hand. His eyes blazed. “Is this what you used to do? Watchdog churches? These are men of God. I'm a man of God. That's what's wrong with me. I'm offended.”

“But I'm not attacking you, Justus. I'm not.” I stuttered. “I've seen the bad things that good people do to ministers. I saw my father lose his life trying to clean up other minister's messes. I saw those same deep-pocketed ministers snicker at his grave. They made our daddy's life a joke. They made God a joke. You don't know . . .” I began to cry.

He pulled me closer into his arms. “I'm sorry for your father. Sounds like you and Ava are one in the same.”

“How?” I said between sobs.

“She's trying to save her husband's legacy because she wants to correct what happened to your father. While you were at the
Sentinel,
it seems more apparent that you were trying to hold churches accountable for their actions to correct what happened to your father. You both need to realize that only God can do that, and He will, if you back down and let Him.”

Just then my heart opened wider. It felt like an earthquake rippled through me. I trembled and held on to Justus until the pouring stopped. Granny would have said that it was the Holy Spirit moving through me. I don't know what it was, but it felt good.

“Justus . . .” I whispered.

He released me a little and looked in my eyes. “I felt it, too.”

He leaned closer to my face. I relaxed in his arms before I caught myself.

“Good. At least I'm not entirely crazy.” I slid out of his hold. “Just light-headed.”

“So am I, but I know what's wrong with me.” He blushed.

“Well, you're going to think I'm very crazy when I do this.”

“Do what?”

I looked around the parking lot, caught Justus's hand, and reached up toward his ear.

“What?” He jerked away a little, then grinned.

“Stop moving.” I leaned closer and whispered, “There's someone else in the Biscuit Depot watching us.”

He grabbed me in another embrace that felt really yummy. “I know. I saw a shadow in the men's restroom earlier.”

“Did you see who it was? Could be an employee. Right?”

His warm breaths caressed my neck. “No, It's Terry, Devon's bodyguard.”

I shuddered. “Why didn't you say something?”

He held me closer. “What was I supposed to say? Potential suspect in the restaurant with another potential suspect? I was trying to keep you out of trouble.”

“So you think Terry and Elvis are suspects? What motive?”

“Don't know.” He released me and took my arm. “That's why we need to leave this place right now. I need to take you somewhere.”

“You can't. Remember, you're hosting the armor bearers of Greater Atlanta tonight.”

 

“
I
've been meaning to ask you,” Angel began. “How well do you know Detective Dixon?”

Justus replied, “Not before you tell me what was in that box you brought to my office? I've been waiting on an answer about that since yesterday.”

“I'm not going to lie to my pastor, but I'm not telling you either.”

“I thought I was more than your pastor by now.”

I stopped writing. “Turn the car around.”

“Why?”

“Because this isn't working.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can't think straight. This thing between you and me has got to stop. Do you realize I almost kissed you outside Elvis's parking lot.”

He smiled. “Now you tell me.”

“Well, I'm not done.” I ran my hands through my hair. “You're a fine man, Justus. Whew, you're fine. But the way I feel is beginning to make me feel like some bad girl from the Bible. And I need to focus on my dead brother-in-law.” I sighed. “I can't take this kind of pressure.”

I threw my head in my lap. I couldn't breathe.

Justus pulled the car over, then shut off the ignition. “Sit up, Angel.”

I sat up, gasping for air. “I'm losing it.”

“Well, find it, catch it, grab it, because we need to clear some things up. Right now.”

The power in his words made me feel like I was five years old. I folded my arms over my chest, stuck out my lower lip, and wouldn't look at him. “'Kay.”

“Look at me, Angel.” He took his hands off the steering wheel and ran his hand down my arm. “I need to know you hear me when I say this.”

I shook my head. He must be crazy. I wasn't looking at him.

“Evangeline?” His voice was stern, but the way he said my name made me want to melt.

“Nope, go ahead and say it. So I can wash the embarrassment off my face and we can get this show on the road. I can take it.”

“Obviously you can't, since you're not giving me your undivided attention and your panting episodes are cracking me up a little. Come on. Let's be adult about this . . . Let me talk to you like a man, not your pastor, not your friend, a grown man.”

I took a deep breath and looked at him. His eyes were set right on me; his gaze clutched my heart. I shivered. “I'm sorry. Please don't be mad at me.”

“I don't want to hear an apology from you.” He touched my cheek. “We're attracted to each other. Let's admit that and move on. Okay.”

My cheek tingled at his touch. “I knew I shouldn't have worn that dress the other night.”

“It wasn't that ripped-up thing you had on in the emergency room, woman.” He chuckled.

I still couldn't look at him. “Then what was it?”

“The question you need to ask yourself before we go any further is, how do you feel about me?”

“Up until a few days ago I thought I was the one with the crush.”

“You haven't answered my question.”

“I've never liked a man so much in my life, too much to make good sense. Don't you agree this thing is a little too much, too fast?”

“It's only moving fast because you won't slow down.”

“That's the thing.” I lowered my head. “My life is fast. It's not the life you want.”

“Don't tell me what I want. I know what I want . . .” He gripped the steering wheel. “This doesn't seem like divine intervention to you?”

“Nope, or love at first sight either. That's romance novel crap.”

He turned my car on again. “You could be right. I don't read those, by the way, but what if you're wrong? What if my coming to Sugar Hill was also to find you?”

My heart raced. He was saying all the right things, but I was a coward. All I could see was Ava holding Devon's bloody body in her arms, me holding Bella's father's breathless body in my arms, and Mom dressed in widow black for the umpteenth time. Although I said before I don't believe in superstitions, I didn't want to take another chance. Not on any man, and definitely not on Justus. I needed to do a better job at pretending to be unaffected by him before I hurt him any more than I already had.

I reached for my shades in the glove compartment and put them on. “Then you would take your sidekick duties more seriously instead of having us now behind schedule.”

If my car could fly, it would have. He drove so fast down 95 South back to Sugar Hill, I couldn't feel the wheels touch the highway. I knew he was upset about my reply to his love confession, so why wouldn't he just go home?

“How do you know Ava?” I asked, hoping he would slow down when he answered.

“I met her a few months after I came to Sugar Hill.”

“I don't believe you. That's too much of a coincidence, if you ask me.”

“I'll put my money on divine intervention.” He smiled. “We met at Gospel Fest. She attended my class about race and reconciliation, and I caught the end of Devon's workshop on guilt-free leadership.”

“Did she mention me at all?”

“No, but I have to admit I knew she was your sister when I saw her, so I was a little curious.”

“Why didn't you ask her about me?”

He smiled. “Isn't that obvious?”

“Oh.” My heart fluttered. “So what did you learn in Devon's workshop?”

“That my post here wasn't a punishment.”

I gasped. “Why did you ever think that it was?”

He shook his head. “I'm not as perfect as you think.”

“I never thought you were perfect, but the church has definitely grown from the inside out since you've been here. That's pretty good.”

He frowned. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?”

“Compliment me. When a man likes a woman who obviously doesn't share the same sentiment, compliments hurt.”

“I do like—” I huffed. “Let's get back home. I'm missing my child.”