A Good Excuse To Be Bad (24 page)

“We don't know that.”

“We don't know that they're not.” I threw up my hands. “Don't you see that?”

“I don't. In fact, if—and I mean a very little if—this mystery baby is Devon's, wouldn't Rachel become a suspect?”

I shook my head. “She has no motive.”

“She's in love with Devon.”

“No proof. Unmarried women have children all the time and don't love the baby's father.”

He frowned. “Perhaps Rachel assumed that since she was carrying his child, she assumed he would leave Ava for her, but he didn't, despite his moral responsibility.”

“You're thinking like a man, Justus. I'm thinking like my sister. She loved Devon. She would have lost her mind if that man betrayed her. My sister is crazy when you betray her. I know that firsthand.”

“That doesn't sound like she would kill Rachel.”

“No, she wouldn't come after her at all, but Devon. . . . It makes perfect sense now.”

Justus harrumphed and slumped against the wall. “You've tired me out, so just tell me what you're thinking.”

“I'm thinking the person the dagger was meant for wasn't Devon. It was Rachel. What if—” I grabbed Justus's hand. “What if her life's in danger now and this money in your hand is her death sentence?”

“You can't think Greater Atlanta is behind this? That's crazy talk?”

“No, I don't think they're behind it. They want to stop it.” I moved around and paced the floor. “I think there's a hit out on her.”

Justus rubbed his head. “Please stop. Don't say another word.”

“You don't know what depths a mother will take to protect her family.”

“That's not God, and you know it.”

“I never said it was, but was it Ava? That's what we have to find out.”

“I'm not going to preach to you or give you some sermon. You've made it clear on more than one occasion that a sermon would automatically make you see how wrong you are about making such prejudiced generalizations against your sister. I'm not going to do that.”

His jaw was clinched. He stared at me with seriousness and concern and with his free hand, he took my hand. “But I'll ask you to believe me. Do you trust me?”

“I do, but—”

“No buts. If you trust me, then call Salvador and give him this money.”

“Oh-noooo.” I shook my head. “I'm keeping this money.”

“Why?”

“Because I need it and I'm out of time.”

“You don't need it, Angel.”

“Yes, I do.” I squeezed his hand. “If Big Faith is looking for Rachel, then she knows they're looking for her. Believe me. If she's pregnant and has any common sense, she is long gone by now. The only way I can find her at this point is to hire someone. Meanwhile, I have to take care of the house, the kids, funeral arrangements, and picking up Ava from jail, hopefully tomorrow. This money could help me do that. I have no more time. What choice do I have?”

“Forget choice; choose faith.” He raised his other hand, which contained the money Elvis had given me. “Not this. Give me until tomorrow morning to come up with a better plan for you, for Ava, and for us.”

“For us?”

He took my hand in his. “Yes, the sooner Devon's murder is solved and Ava's charges are dropped, the sooner you and I can move forward
together
under normal circumstances.”

“Normal?” I chuckled. “What about Trish and the kids? What about the church? You're just as overextended as I am.”

“Stop searching for excuses not to surrender to the way you feel about me, woman.”

“I don't know if I even know what that means.”

“Give me a chance, Angel,” he pleaded. “You're not supposed to carry these burdens. That's why you can't think straight right now. Don't give up.”

He gave me that look that I loved and hated.

I lowered my head on his chest. “You're right. I'll return the money.”

He wrapped his arms around me. “Why don't I return it for you, so you can concentrate on preparing for Ava's homecoming? She might need your help with Devon's funeral arrangements. She's going to be a bag of nerves with a trial looming over her head as well.”

“That sounds great, but I'm sure her armor bearers would take care of that, and besides, Tiger will be escorting Ava from the jail for me.”

“Tiger.” He lowered his arms. “Your boss who put you in danger last week? That guy?”

“Yes, that guy. He's good people most of the time.” I stepped back. “You know what. It's probably best that I take Elvis his money back, since I have to go to Tiger's to retrieve Ava anyway. I'll do it before I pick her up. That way she will be none the wiser.”

His brilliant smile lit the room around us again. “Now, that's good news. Tomorrow will be a better day, I promise. Get rest. I will drive your mom back to your home for you.”

He hugged me again. I held him tight but felt myself falling away from him. I wasn't returning that money, not until I got more answers, and definitely not until I got to the bottom of Miss Rachel. I held him longer, because I knew after tonight, he wouldn't want to touch me again.

 

A
late-night fog fluffed over Decatur and my windshield. The only thing I saw was Big Tiger's Trusted Bail Bonds' chalk-white office gleaming through the muck. I wished I could turn around and have Justus ride along, but not tonight, not anymore. I sighed. This was not the time to fall in love with a good man.

“It's about time you came to your senses and called me, girl,” Big Tiger said when he opened the door to greet me. “What took you so long?”

I walked inside and threw my purse on his desk. “I didn't think I would have to resort to this to help Ava.”

I plopped down on the sofa. No one was here but us. I glanced around the office.

“Resort to what? Finding a killer?” he asked. “Girl, have the suburbs made you soft? Killers don't knock on your door and invite themselves over for lemonade and chocolate-chip cookies. You have to hunt them down.”

“I know, but my pastor—my friend—he thinks that God doesn't need me to lower myself to solve Devon's murder.”

Big Tiger sat down beside me and placed his arm over my shoulder. His cologne smelled okay, but not as yummy and calming as Justus's. “He's right.”

I turned to him. “Justus is right?”

“For sure.” He nodded. “You don't have to be here, Angel.”

“But just a minute ago, you said that I had come to my senses by coming here.”

“True.” He nodded faster.

“I'm confused.”

“There's no need. It's real simple, baby girl.” He removed his arm from around me and turned his body toward me. “Your man is right. Eventually, the truth about what happened to Devon will come out. It could be next week. It could be thirty years. God does what He do.” He rubbed his hands together. “But you don't care about that. That's not what you want tonight. You want to find this girl Rachel. You need to know Ava is innocent, and you don't know how long God will take to answer. So it's your choice. Plain and simple.”

I scoffed. “You make it sound like I don't believe in God.”

“I didn't say that, Angel. You know I know you. We both come up in the church together. We both know God is real. But that don't stop us from being spoiled rotten. Some fool killed your brother-in-law and is trying to frame our girl for his murder. Whoever it is has done a good job, because they've got you spooked. God ain't got nothin' to do with that, so you gotta choose. What's best for you right now, baby girl?”

I listened to Big Tiger like he was a ghetto Billy Graham, drinking in his words like red Kool-Aid on a steamy August dog day.

“Big Tiger, get my stuff out of my car.”

Big Tiger hoisted my case files out my car trunk, brought them into his office, then slammed them on this desk.

“Angel Soft, what do you think you'll find in there?”

“Salvador wanted to see my old case files, remember? So I'm thinking about Gabe's intent. There may be some clue in there about what went down.”

“But that won't help us find Rachel.”

“She was Ava's armor bearer at the time of that investigation. Gabe may have had some information on her that we can use to locate her.” I paused. I hadn't said Bella's father's name so much in a long while.

“You never found out who killed him either. Did you?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “I'm not ready to open that case.”

“For you and your man's sake, you can't keep it cold forever.”

“I think we're too late for that.”

“What? You broke up already?”

“We're not together. He just doesn't know that I'm here, and I want to keep it that way.”

I pulled out my manila notebook that housed all the leads I had so far, my calendar notebook, and the envelope with the check Elvis gave me.

I handed Big Tiger my notebook. “I need a Dumpster diver like now.”

A Dumpster diver was someone who sifted through other people's trash to find things of value: bank receipts, credit card bills, hotel keys, shredded papers, pregnancy tests, and anything that could buttress a case. Not only did the press Dumpster dive, but corporate spies and lobbyists did as well. If it weren't for Dumpster diving, the BALCO steroid scandal might not have seen the light of day. When I worked at the
Sentinel,
I ordered garbage pulls all the time. It didn't require a warrant and it never failed.

“We need to pull Ava's trash, and the trash of all the armor bearers and Elvis Bloom.”

Big Tiger combed through my notebook and jotted down some notes. “Got anyone in mind?”

I nodded and checked my wallet for Paige's number. I pulled the card out and handed it to Big Tiger. “I think we have one, and she's old family.”

Big Tiger grinned. “Good, then she won't need to be schooled.”

I found Big Tiger's speaker phone and dialed Paige's number.

She picked up. “Hi, Angel. What do you need?”

I sighed with relief. It was refreshing to deal with people who didn't waste time and knew how to get things done without all the condemnation.

“Paige, I need you to do a garbage pull. Get letters, prescriptions, bills, receipts—snot rags, anything out of a few trash cans ASAP.”

“Do you need me to locate their trash removal services, too?”

I blinked. “Why?”

“Maybe they haven't burned it, composted it, or shipped it off to the landfills yet. And you know at a landfill, things can sit for years in the same shape they were buried.”

“Honey, I can't pay you enough to have a landfill excavated. Just check the trash and the recycle bins and bring them to Big Tiger's.”

“Ok, give me the addresses and depending upon how far I need to travel, a few hours for each pull,” Paige said.

“Cool, Big Tiger and I should be back by then, so call me on the cell when you're done and we'll meet you here.”

“Where will you be? Maybe I can meet you there?”

I cradled the phone and turned to Big Tiger. He shook his head. “No.”

“No, meet us here.” I gave her the pulls and Big Tiger's address and ended the conversation.

Tiger chuckled. “Angel Soft, do you think you have the heart for what we're about to do?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I'm ready. Why?”

“It's been a long time. You're not the same girl you used to be.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because you wouldn't have needed me.”

“I'm not soft.” I looked at him. “You think I've become soft?”

“It's okay if you are. You're a mother now, you know?”

“I don't need to be soft tonight. I need to get this thing done.”

My cell phone rang. I looked at it. “It's Paige. Something must be wrong.”

I answered. “What's up, girl?”

“I know we just got off the phone, but when you gave me the names of the people you want me to trash check, one of those names was familiar.”

“Which name?”

“Rachel Newton. I've heard her name before and you wouldn't believe from whom.”

I motioned for Tiger to get me a pen and pad. He slid me a yellow pad and a pencil.

“Okay. I'm ready. How do you know Rachel?”

“Charlotte,” she said. “Charlotte Lewis.”

I ended my call and plopped down. “Things just got real interesting.”

 

 

Charlotte Lewis kept a discreet escort service in Sandy Springs until 2004, a year before the city incorporated. As a favor to her for being such a great source, I warned her about an impending investigation that might involve her. Her most loyal client and boyfriend, former Georgia State Senator and the Honorable Judge Telly Milner of Sandy Springs, found her a quiet office in Vinings, ten minutes from Canoe Restaurant, where we were meeting for a late dessert. The restaurant was closing in fifteen minutes, but they obliged me as a small courtesy to Charlotte. I found her in the River Room, sipping Dom Pérignon and watching the Chattahoochee River rolling just outside the window. Her legs were crossed, but her free foot shook.

I sat my phone down on the glass table in front of us and placed my purse over the empty back of the chair across from her. Charlotte didn't move, except for that foot.

I walked toward the windows and looked outside to get a better view of the river and what had Charlotte so intrigued.

I glanced at her. She was just as perfect as the last time we met. She wore a cream linen pantsuit with matching halter top and gold bangles that showed off her authentic Bermuda tan and the fact that yoga kept women past forty forever young. I also noticed that a dried tear had ruined her makeup on her cheek.

She turned toward me and smiled. “So we're back where we left off, hmmm?”

“And some . . .” I touched her shoulder. “Charlotte, is this a good time?”

“Any time is a good time when you're here. Want a drink?” She waved for the waitress to come to the table.

I sat down. “Sure, if you're treating.”

“I never treat, but Big Daddy always does.”

Didn't take a wild guess to know who Big Daddy was.

I ordered what Charlotte was drinking and Whiskied Chattahoochee Mud to eat. Bounty hunters and single mothers rarely get called to Canoe's unless work was involved. So I was going to enjoy myself and indulge in some dark chocolate and Irish crème.

“My condolences to your sister and her kids.” Charlotte's North Carolinian drawl dripped with sweetness and sadness as she talked. I often wondered why a woman so cultured resorted to her line of work.

I reached for her hands across the table and squeezed them tight. “Thank you.”

I held on to her hand until she looked me in my eyes. “Charlotte, who's hurting you, and does it have anything to do with my sister?”

She slipped her hands from my grasp and then reached for her napkin on her lap.

“No, why would you ask me that?” She patted the corners of her eyes.

“Because I've found out some things that don't make sense, that somehow lead me to you.”

“Are you . . .” She lowered her arms, cleared her throat, and straightened her back. “Are you suggesting that I've something to do with your brother-in-law's murder, Evangeline?”

“Of course not. You know me better than that.” I picked up my phone, opened a recorded video, and slid it to her. “There's a girl, a missing pregnant girl, who looks very much like someone I saw before in your old place. Remember?”

Charlotte picked up my phone and reviewed it. She gasped, then nodded. “Rachel, yes, but she's not one of my girls. She's literally a good girl, a very good girl.”

“Then who is she?”

Charlotte leaned forward; I leaned even closer.

“My daughter . . .” She looked around. “And Big Daddy's, too,” she whispered.

I gasped and threw my hands again over my mouth. “Charlotte!”

She sat back. “Angel, bring my daughter and my grandchild back to me. Money is no object. You understand me?”

I nodded. “I need to ask you a few questions in order for me to do that.”

She nodded and dabbed her eyes with her napkin again. “I'll tell you what you need to know.”

 

 

And boy did she. Charlotte shared a secret she had been holding close to her heart for twenty-five years. She had a daughter, Rachel Dawn Newton. Newton was Charlotte's maiden name, and Rachel grew up with Charlotte's mother and father in Madison, Georgia, until Rachel moved to Atlanta a few years ago. Judge Milner knew about his daughter and helped to support her. Rachel, however, shunned them both once she realized the relationship between Charlotte and Judge Milner. She moved out of Charlotte's house two years ago, to live with some girlfriends she met at church, and Charlotte hadn't heard from her since until she called her a few months ago to tell her she was pregnant.

“Did she mention who the father was?” Tiger asked. He lay on his couch and snuggled up to one of his throw pillows.

“No, she didn't have a clue. Charlotte didn't know Rachel had a boyfriend.” I rubbed the back of my neck and noted the time. “Meeting Charlotte wasn't a total waste of time. That mud dessert was really good.”

“Don't be like that, Angel Soft. We're closer to the truth than we were before.”

My phone rang. I pulled it from my jeans pant pocket and placed it on my ear. “Hello?”

“Evangeline Crawford, I believe you've been looking for me.”

“Who's this?”

“Rachel Newton, and I've been told you want to see me.”

My heart raced. Again, I was at a crossroads. I could cancel Paige's order and tell Big Tiger I changed my mind. I could call Justus and tell him that he was right about God's timing and ask him to tag along. Or I could handle this thing right now and not involve anyone else.

I closed my eyes and cradled the phone to my ear. “Tell me where.”

 

 

The lights were off at the Rogers Mill House when Big Tiger and I arrived. We cancelled Paige's Dumpster diving order for the armor bearers and Elvis, paid her for her service, and headed out to Avondale Estates. My sixth sense warned me not to come.