Like Sheep Gone Astray (20 page)

Chapter 9

G
loria Randall was sitting at her desk promptly at eight-thirty Friday morning, wide awake despite the sleepless night she'd had. Councilman Walter Banks was not due in the office yet, but she was anxious to talk to him. Something was not right, her gut was telling her.

Two afternoons before, while running a routine errand for the councilman at city hall, she had been approached by a young man who'd introduced himself as a journalist wanting information about the councilman's busy schedule and general involvement with his constituents. Having been told by the councilman to be cordial to the media because he worked to maintain a positive, approachable image, she was courteous and open with the young man, answering all his questions about Walter's upcoming engagements and community functions.

She would have thought no more about the interview except that when the man noted the files she had picked up for the councilman, his questions became more intrusive. She had not wanted to be rude, but when an hour had gone by and she found herself giving more detailed information about Councilman Banks's planned meetings and appointments for the next week, she was sure she'd crossed the line herself and wanted to end the conversation immediately.

“How could I be so dumb, giving out that man's personal business like that?” She kept sighing to herself, feeling like she was failing her new boss already and knowing that was not the end of the story.

She had not called the councilman to tell him she was running late; and when she finally had talked to him late Wednesday night he'd sounded relieved, as if he'd been worried about her. She had been able to avoid him all day Thursday as he was busy with meetings outside of the office, but she knew he ran a lighter schedule on Fridays—and this Friday in particular was especially light—making a run-in with him inevitable. She'd stayed up nearly the entire night wondering how she would explain her indiscretion to him. Maybe it was not a big deal, but her instincts were telling her it was.

At almost nine o'clock, just after she'd finished making the coffee and separating mail, she noticed the
Black Enterprise magazine
Anthony had left on the conference table a couple days before. It was open to an article highlighting a local businessman who was being recognized for his achievements.

“Anthony studied this article for a long time the other day,” she murmured to herself as she picked it up to get a closer view. “I wonder if he misses that high-roller life he had a few months ago.” Nearly every member at Second Baptist marveled at the sacrifices Anthony had made when he'd decided to spend more time pursuing his ministerial calling.

She'd turned the page, still skimming the article, when her eyes grew wide and her jaw dropped.
The man being featured in the story was the journalist who'd asked all those questions the day before.
So he wasn't a journalist. Her mind was racing. Why had he lied? Why did he want all that information? And what was he going to do with it?

“Good morning, Gloria.” Walter Banks entered the suite looking glum. He did not have his usual bag of doughnuts or cheery smile. Before Gloria could stammer out a greeting, he disappeared into his office and shut the door behind him. It was obvious that something was terribly wrong.

The councilman must be in some kind of trouble, and it's all my fault
. Gloria was not the type of person who left mistakes alone. She was ready to take action, making up her mind what to do as she picked up the phone. Anthony used to work for the firm where that young man was employed. She would call him and get his opinion on the matter. If something was going on with the councilman, she was certain Anthony could help.

Nikki Galloway coughed as loudly as she could into the phone receiver.

“Eric, I'm not going to be able to make it in to work today. I woke up feeling terrible.” She followed her words with a long, drawn-out blow into a tissue.

“I'm sorry to hear that, but I hope you feel better soon.” Eric truly was sorry. Today was an important day for CASH. He had planned a pivotal meeting to solidity support from both old and new members. The rally was not until the evening, but a lot still needed to be done in preparation.

“Hopefully I'll be able to make it in on Monday, Tuesday at the latest. See you then.” She threw those words in there, knowing that if all went according to plan, she might not have to show up at all again. Her assignment at CASH was nearly complete. Although she had not been able to distract Eric (he must be blind or gay, she'd decided), she had made copies of every mailing list, financial statement, and fact sheet he'd handed to her.

And to top off her success, getting that old detective's cell phone when she picked up her son from Mona's day care the evening before had been a breeze.
Those stupid people always leave their office door open
. The Cassells were going to be gone for two weeks, more than enough time to complete the sabotage.

That man is a true mastermind,
. She sneered to herself, smoothing her hands across the sheets he'd just left. She never knew what to expect from his daily morning visits. Most of the time it was him telling her what to do—a new assignment, an old argument, an ongoing explanation of the plan. And then he'd lead her tiptoeing past Devin's door to her bedroom. She never objected. She couldn't.

But this morning she'd held some of the power; it was her hands that held the cell phone, the copies she'd made, the information she'd gathered.
You may be the mastermind, fool, but you need my help to get things done
.

She wanted to make him beg for what he wanted. She wanted to hear him
ask
for all that she could give him.

But when he began whispering in her ear that he wanted to reward her for all the hard work she was doing, Nikki acquiesced. Between kisses, he took the phone, the papers, and another piece of her pride.

“You got yourself into this.” She could hear her mother's hiss in the old radiators that did little to warm the cheap apartment. As always, the morning ended with him on top, the winner of every argument, the director of every plan. He seemed to make sure of it.

Even as he casually helped himself to her body he talked business. “Anthony is trying to get in touch with Kent and we want to make sure we have the right response when he calls. I'll do my part, you do yours. Don't mess up.” The last three words were what he said to her before leaving at six-thirty.

It was nearly nine-thirty now, time to get moving. Eric Johnson of CASH was not the only person with a big agenda for the day.

The orange juice in his glass was warm and pulpy. Anthony had not realized how long he'd been sitting at the kitchen table until he'd taken a sip. Another morning had passed without his crossing paths with Terri. Another day-had pressed forward without a word to the detective, a man Anthony felt both fear and relief in approaching. And the past twenty-four hours had only brought more heartbreak, more burden. Dead-end information from a dead man. A bundle of money bound in his trunk. Money of which he knew not the source, or where would be its final resting place.

He had not bothered to call his job, if he still had it. He had not even bothered to get dressed. He was still wearing the rumpled shirt and khakis from the day before, having fallen asleep in his study upon his return from Sister Porter's house. It had been late when he got in, and he had not wanted to disturb Terri. In her condition she needed the rest. A feeble smile tried to form on his face as he thought of the next clue Terri would give. Why couldn't she just let him guess that she was pregnant?

He was caught up in a daydream about his baby boy when his cell phone rang.

“Brother—I mean Minister Antho—Murdock!”

“Sister Randall?” Anthony was surprised to hear Gloria Randall sounding so anxious.

“I'm sorry to call so early. I got your cell phone number out of Mr. Banks's Rolodex. I did something and now I think Councilman Banks is in trouble. I thought maybe you could help. You're so close to Walter
and
you used to work for Shaw Enterprises.”

At her words, Anthony snapped to attention.

“Are you at his office?”

“Yes, but I would rather talk to you away from the councilman. He doesn't know what I did yet, and I want your opinion on how to handle this. Can we meet somewhere during my lunch break?”

Anthony noticed for the first time how low she was speaking into the phone. “Sure, if you think that's best.”

“I don't want to take you far from where you work, so if it's okay with you, we could meet at that little diner down the street from your job.”

Anthony could not even begin to explain why he wasn't at his job that morning. He only sighed as he agreed to meet her at the Solomon Grill precisely at noon. He only sighed again as he showered and dressed in a suit and tie. He did not want any extra questions before he could get some answers himself.

After fixing the thermostat for the fifth time, Terri sat back down in her thickly padded desk chair. Her office was still too warm. She decided to open one of the windows, flooding the room with the brisk morning air of mid-September. Now it was too cold. She sipped half a cup of coffee, ate a few spoonfuls of yogurt, reshuffled the papers on her desk, and listened to the chirping birds and waterfalls sounding through the relaxation unit she'd bought herself years ago.

Nothing was working. Nothing was right.

After staring blankly at the plans she was working on for Reginald Savant, she made up her mind how to spend the rest of her day. She would do her best to get some work done, and then she would take a long drive in her new Lexus. That thought put some pep into her.

Anthony still had not seen her car. When she'd come in from Sister Porter's home last night, she saw him sleeping in his study. Not wanting to wake him, she'd collapsed in their king-sized bed and left for work before he stirred from his sleep.

Today would be a perfect day to just show him the car. Her plans were being formed even as she concentrated on the sketches before her. She would take a scenic route to Haberstick Associates and surprise him with the car. She would not allow any doubts about Anthony's faithfulness or agendas to overtake her anymore. Last night's embarrassing episode at Sister Porter's house had left her spent. As Cherisse had initially told her, there had to be an explanation for everything.

“I am a millionaire,” she said to her reflection in an oak-framed wall mirror. A smile began to take shape. “I am in a different class now, and I need to start acting like it. Anthony must have a big plan to surprise me with his news about the money, just like I'm going to surprise him with the blessings I've already been able to buy.” The smile was more solid as she thought again about the car, the shopping spree, the cruise to the Mediterranean. Beverly Hills.

By noon, she was humming loudly to herself, in full rhythm, knowing that the morning had been productive. She'd finished identifying some fabric swatches that would be used to upholster the furniture in the main lobby of Reggie's Empress Hotel. Wallpaper and borders had been catalogued by suite style; the perfect grain of marble had been picked out to floor the exotic atrium she'd designed for the top floor. Everything was nearly perfect.

“See, Sister Porter,” she mumbled to herself, “it's been a good morning, and I didn't have to say the name Jesus once.” She shook her head, wondering why people couldn't see that there was more to life than church. Even Anthony was beginning to see the light. She smiled again, thinking about the money with which he was planning to surprise her.

As she sped down a winding back road to Haberstick Associates, she imagined she was in a car commercial. Pure exhilaration. Her sudden good fortune was a rush in her veins.

She was waiting at a traffic light a block and a half from Anthony's workplace when she saw them. They were walking together quickly, looking around as if they did not want anyone to notice them. When the light turned green and the cars behind her started honking, she still did not move. She could not think of any rational reason why Anthony would be leaving the Solomon Grill with Sister Gloria Randall from church and heading in a direction away from his job.

“Before I cause a scene like I did last night, let me pull to the side and come up with a foolproof plan.” She parked in an auto-shop lot and dialed Cherisse as she spoke.

“Terri, where have you been? I've been trying to reach you all morning. I know exactly who—”

“He's seeing another woman.” Terri cut in before Cherisse could continue.

“Her name's Gloria Randall, right?”

“How did you—”

This time Cherisse interrupted. “Meet me at my house this evening like we planned. I've got a lot to tell you. You're still coming with me to the banquet tonight, aren't you?”

“I wouldn't miss it for the world.”

Anthony and Gloria sat silent in his car. He was stunned at the news she'd just shared with him. Why would his former prot) at Shaw Enterprises be so interested in Councilman Banks's affairs, especially after seeing the Stonymill files in Gloria's hand?

“You need to show me the exact files you were copying at city hall that sparked Jevon's interest.”

Gloria nodded with her hands wrapped in her lap as they sped off to the archaic building downtown. Now she was beginning to wonder if she had made a big deal out of nothing. Maybe this was all a small matter that she had blown out of proportion. She worried that it would get her fired and Anthony embarrassed.

“Minister Murdock, I have the copies in Councilman Banks's mailbox. Knowing him, he probably hasn't even gotten them out yet and I know he's busy running an errand. I don't want to take you out of your way from work any more than I already have. Why don't we go back to his office instead of going all the way downtown?” She tried to sound reassuring, feeling silly as she noted the tight lines on Anthony's forehead.
I got this man all worried about something that's probably nothing
.

Anthony rubbed his chin in thought before making a U-turn. No need to draw extra attention to himself by signing out the Stonymill files from the clerk's office. Besides, he could make copies of Gloria's copies without intrusion, and have time to study them alone later.