Relentless (10 page)

“Thanks for coming in, Mr. Branson. I will be in touch with you if I need anything else.” Maxwell stood up from his desk. He shook the man's hand and helped him with his overcoat.

“Mr. Montgomery, I worked a lot of years to build up my business. I poured my life into that barber shop. My dad handed it down to me, just like his dad handed it down to him. The day I put the
OUT OF BUSINESS
sign in the window and took down Branson and Son's Barber Shop, a part of my soul died.” He pulled a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped at his eyes. “It just ain't right to take away a man's dreams and his way to make a living for his family. It ain't right I tell you.”

“I understand,” Maxwell said handing Mr. Branson his top hat, which was lying on the table. “It's hard to watch something be taken away from you that you don't want to let go of. But I can't stop this.”

Walking toward the door, Mr. Branson turned and looked at Maxwell. “I wasn't the only one, you know. A lot of business owners had to sell and not because they wanted to. The city, Councilman Chambers, and I guess progress is what we have to blame.” When he reached the office door, he turned again and stared at Maxwell. His face, etched with lines of despair, spoke the defeat. “I don't know why you're asking questions about a business deal that's already done. Still, I hope what I told you will help in some way. Maybe what's wrong can be made right.”

“Sooner or later it generally is. I appreciate your coming in today. Take care of yourself.” Maxwell watched him walk to the elevator. His stature, broad shoulders, strong voice, and the fact that he had been taken advantage of reminded him of his father. The thought of Paul Sr. flew right out of Maxwell's mind with the sharp ding the elevator made when the door opened.

Maxwell stepped out of his office doorway and called for Sonya. No answer. Further investigation deemed her nowhere in sight. From her desk, he buzzed his receptionist; she hadn't seen her either. Just as he was about to check the conference room, Sonya came rushing out front with two thick law books and a stack of documents in her arms.

“Yes, Mr. Montgomery. Did you need something?” she asked, setting the books and documents down onto her desk.

“When is my next appointment?”

Sonya spun the day planner on her desk around to face her. “Let's see. Mr. Branson was the fourth person on the list you gave me. Ms. Fricks is next and she will be in at one-thirty. You've got just enough of a break to eat a quick bite. Would you like me to order you some lunch?”

“I'll pass. I'm going downstairs to get a cup of coffee. I'll be right back.” Maxwell took the stairs. He didn't have time to wait for the elevator. Standing in the line at the coffee shop, he was forced to inhale the sweet perfume of the woman standing in front of him. She ordered a Frappuccino, paid the cashier, and swiftly made her exit. Her thick hair bounced on her shoulders as she walked away. He glossed over the implications having no room for carnal attractions. Besides, Nicole's ultimatum was more than enough to handle.

As Maxwell waited for his coffee, a familiar voice hooked him, forcing him to turn around and face the flat-screen TV in the corner. Maxwell listened while watching Bishop Jones's lips form his words in front of a small group of onlookers.

“We as a community have to do something to provide a safe haven for our youth. Once they've made a mistake, been to prison, a detention center or wherever, we have to welcome them into the fold with open arms and options. I am working on a project right now which will provide support, direction, and training for our youth. This will get them what they need and put them on the right track. I am committed to doing whatever it takes to get this project off the ground.”

Maxwell watched the crowd erupt with cheers and applauses.

“Sir,” the cashier repeated until Maxwell acknowledged him. “Your coffee is ready.”

Maxwell shook off the paralyzing hold Jones's words had cast over him. He paid for his coffee and headed upstairs. His meetings with Garrett's list of people were going well. Maxwell was anxious to hear what the next person had to say. He took the stairs and extended his break since it wasn't quite one-thirty. When he reached the waiting area, the sweet-smelling woman from the coffee shop was sitting in one of the leather chairs. Trying not to wear his surprise so prominently, he stopped at Sonya's desk to ask if there were any calls.

“No, Mr. Montgomery, but your one-thirty appointment is a little early.” Sonya stood up and waved her hand in the direction of the woman. “That's Ms. Fricks.”

Maxwell approached her and extended his hand. “Ms. Fricks, thank you for coming in today. If you will give me just a few minutes, I will be right with you.”

“Not a problem, Mr. Montgomery. Take your time,” she responded.

Maxwell shuffled through the mail Sonya handed him and gave her instructions regarding a package he was expecting. Then he invited Ms. Fricks inside his office and closed the door after she entered. “Have a seat, Ms. Fricks. I'll get right to the point. I'm working on some zoning issues in the business district and could use your help.”

“I'll help if I can,” she replied.

“I understand you used to own a beauty shop that was sold earlier this year.” She nodded in affirmation. “Would you mind telling me about your business and why you decided to sell?” Maxwell wanted to stay as close to the truth as he could without giving away too much information about his motive.

“How much time do you have?”

“Excuse me?” Maxwell said.

“I can tell you exactly why I ended up selling my business. And, it didn't have anything to do with my wanting to sell it. That sneaky, low-down Councilman Chambers is the reason. When I found out how much I could have gotten for my property, it makes me sick.” She pushed out a windy sigh, closed her eyes, counted to three, and started talking again. “I was told the zoning laws were changing for my business, and I would no longer be in the right area to do hair. He also told me the city was working on a major reconstruction project that could take the land my business was sitting on whether I agreed or not.”

“Did he say how?”

“He was going on and on about eminent germain.”

“You mean domain,” Maxwell said.

“What?”

“Eminent domain, the government's ability to take your land if it's deemed necessary for the commonwealth,” he clarified.

“You sound like you know what you're talking about, throwing all those big words around. I guess it could have been domain. Germain, domain, doesn't make a difference to me. Either way, my land is gone.”

“Is that right?”

“Yes indeed,” she retorted, clearly agitated. “You don't think I'm lying do you?” she bellowed.

“No, of course not,” Maxwell replied even more intrigued.

“Humph, I get mad just thinking about the whole business. Councilman Chambers said he was doing me a favor by giving me a heads-up on what the city was planning. I don't know, maybe it was all on the up and up. But I do know that I should have gotten more money for my property.”

Maxwell listened intently while drawing a red line through her name on the list. He leaned on the arm of his chair and rested his right ankle on top of his left knee. He soaked in every single word that she so willingly hurled out.

Garrett had done just what Maxwell asked of him. He'd made the investigation of Bishop Jones his highest priority. He was thorough, which was why Garrett was sitting in the parking lot of Greater Metropolitan on a Sunday morning. He'd already attended a couple social events and a Bible class at the church. His assessment would not be complete without attending a Sunday morning service.

He sat in his car watching the mass of people flow into the huge parking lot. Men in orange jackets waving flashlights directed the heavy traffic. Fancy suits, pricey cars, flashy pocket books, and oversized church hats paraded past him. Garrett reached for the Bible lying on his car seat, the one he'd gotten from a thrift store for fifty cents yesterday. He couldn't remember when he'd last opened one, but he thought it would help him appear to fit in. He got out of his car and walked toward the church, allowing himself to blend in with the group of people walking in front of him.

Once inside, he was greeted warmly by the usher at the door. “Praise God, and good morning,” she offered cheerfully, handing him a program of the day's service. “Step right in and one of the young folks inside will seat you. Enjoy the service. We're glad to have you with us.”

Garrett lifted his hand and walked right past the person who tried directing him inside. He strategically chose his own seat in the rear of the church opting for an unobstructed view of the crowd. Garrett subtly gazed around taking in the high ceiling, stained glass windows, and the overflowing choir stand, complete with an organ, piano, and a small orchestra. A soft, melodious, unfamiliar sound beckoned for his attention. In the far right corner, a harp and flute came to life with a duet that silenced the whispers and chatter. It wasn't long before every seat was full and the church exploded with the choir singing several songs highlighted with a solo performance.

Bishop Jones entered from the side door and went to the platform. Jones hadn't been seated twenty minutes before three people had whispered in his ear. A fourth person handed him an envelope. Garrett turned to the young lady sitting next to him. “Excuse me, how long have you been a member here? You are a member, right?”

“Absolutely; I've been a member here about nine years.”

“I hear that Bishop Jones is a good man.” Garrett turned his head in her direction awaiting a response.

“He is. I mean, I haven't had any up close and personal time with him, because the church is so big. But, he's a good pastor,” she said.

Garrett wanted to check out the church a little bit while people were engrossed in the service. “Would you mind saving my seat for me, please? I need to step out just for a few minutes.”

“Sure, no problem,” the young lady said without turning her head to look at him.

A silver-haired woman walked up to the end of the aisle they were sitting in. Her white-gloved hands flopping at the wrist captured both the young lady's and Garrett's attention. She pressed her index finger against her lips and thrust a thick shhh at them both.

Garrett felt duly admonished. Not having been to church in years, he'd forgotten it was a cardinal sin to talk in church. He lifted his hand in front of his mouth and motioned that he was locking his lips and throwing away the key. He waited a couple of minutes after the usher walked away then got up and made his way from the sanctuary.

Bishop Jones was about to start his sermon, and by the glare Garrett received from the usher when he stepped out the sanctuary, he figured out that movement wasn't appreciated while the pastor was preaching. Garrett asked for directions to the men's room. He didn't think snooping around would raise alarms. Garrett went inside, washed his hands, and stopped by the water fountain a few feet away. The lobby was empty. Surprisingly, he must have been the only one roaming aimlessly. Everyone else must have known better. Around the corner, however, he heard two male voices, one fused with anger.

“I'm not a magician. I can't get it done. I've tried. I don't know what else to do. I'm out of options.”

“Well, you better dig down deeper into your little bag of tricks. The bishop is not going to be happy if you can't deliver. You can bet that if you can't make it happen, Minister Simmons will be the next person up to bat. He's not going to let the bishop down under any circumstances. You need to make it happen. I've got to get back to the service. I'll talk to you later.”

Garrett moved briskly, careful not to make a sound. He entered the men's room and closed the door gently. He waited a few seconds then walked out the bathroom hoping to see the man whose voice he'd heard. No luck; he must have gone a different way. Garrett peeked around the corner where he'd heard the voices. The hallway was quiet and empty. He returned to the sanctuary and reclaimed his seat, nodding at the young lady who'd safeguarded it for him. Garrett sat quietly, giving Bishop Jones's sermon only half his attention while his eyes roamed the room.

Forty minutes and a countless number of amens later, Bishop Jones asked the congregation to stand as he gave the benediction. The still quiet that had washed over the sanctuary was rinsed away by voices and people filing out the moment Bishop Jones said, “Amen.”

Garrett watched Bishop Jones close his Bible and tuck it under his arm. Another usher handed the bishop a glass of water and a fresh handkerchief. A bright-skinned man with a stocky build walked up to the bishop, dismissed the usher, and then leaned in close. Garrett wondered what was being whispered as he handed Bishop an envelope. The crowd was moving slowly. Garrett was just about to reach the end of the row and step out into the aisle when he lightly touched the elbow of the young lady who had sat next to him.

“Who is that man talking to Bishop Jones?” he asked glancing toward the platform.

“Oh, that's Minister Simmons, one of our newer leaders.”

“I see.” Garrett's eyes were glued to Minister Simmons as he made a mental note to check him out.

“Thanks for holding my seat,” Garrett chimed shuffling along behind the young lady.

“You're lucky,” she whispered. “I was holding the seat for my friend, Sonya. Guess she slept in today,” the young lady said peering into the crowd. “Her boss keeps her shackled to her desk. She's probably at the law firm downtown working right now.”

“I know a Sonya,” Garrett stated.

“Sonya Gaithers?”

“No, I guess there is more than one Sonya in Philly.” Garrett released the lie into the air. He clutched the edge of the pew as he walked past the stragglers, determined not to bolt through the thick crowd of people to share his discovery.