Scandalous Truth (13 page)
Authors: Monica P. Carter
Chapter 29
William stopped by the deputy coroner's house the next evening. Francesca Garcia was one of the sharpest people he knew, someone he had known since childhood. She had been one of his brother, Mac's, classmates, and now, at thirty-two, she could have a shot at the coroner's post if she wanted to runâmaking her the youngest person to ever hold that position in the parish.
“Hey, come on in.” She smiled when she opened the door for William.
He stepped into the spacious living room of her two-story, antebellum home. “Good to see you again,” he said. “Things have been so hectic, what with the funeral and all, that I've not had a chance to get back with you. What can you tell me about Reverend Chance's death?”
Dr. Garcia sighed. “Well, you know I really can't say anything.”
“Come on Fran. You've got to give me something to work with. I just can't wrap my head around the idea of suicide.”
Dr. Garcia thought for a long moment, as if trying to decide if she should say anything. At last, she spoke. “Well, all I'll say is this: There are some people in the city who have been pressuring our officeâmy bossâto declare it a suicide so there won't be an investigation.”
“So, you're saying it wasn't a suicide?”
“All I'm saying is there are people with a vested interest in it being ruled as such,” she said. “They don't want this thing dragged out any more than it has to be.”
“So, what does your work show?”
“William, my name can't be attached to this.” Her tone was serious.
He nodded eagerly. “Okay, it won't. Just tell me what I need to know.”
“There was no water in his lungs.”
William stared at her, his eyes narrowed. “So that meansâ”
“He was dead before he hit the water.”
The revelation struck William hard. He had known in his gut that his boss hadn't killed himself, but having it confirmed sent shock waves through his being. That meant only one thing: someone had indeed murdered Reverend Chance.
But who? William told Nikki about his conversation with Dr. Garcia that night as they lay in bed.
“Murder? Are you serious?” Nikki was shocked.
“Yes, baby,” he said. “Somebody killed Reverend Chance.”
Nikki let out a slow, low breath. “That's some serious stuff. Who could it be?”
“I don't know,” he admitted. “But I have my suspicions.”
Nikki shook her head. “Surely you don't think Spencer, or the Lo Dark campaign would stoop so low? I mean, that's crazy, right?”
“I don't know,” William spoke slowly. “I really don't know.”
Silence enveloped them for a moment, each processing the information.
William mused. “You know, there always were those rumors that Dark has mob connections.”
“Yeah, but those are just rumors. I mean, this is Shreveport, not some big, overpopulated city.” Nikki twisted to look at him in the glow from the moon that sliced through the curtains. “Do you think that whoever killed Reverend Chance would come after you if you ran? Will, I'm getting freaked out by all this.”
William didn't say anything for the longest moment. She jabbed him. “You sleep?” she finally asked.
“No,” came the answer. “I'm just thinking.”
“Okay, tell me.”
“You know what this means?”
She slowly nodded. “Yeah. You've got to find answers, one way or the other. And if the current police chief and administration are the ones blocking you, then you've got to get in there and become the administration yourself. You've got to run.”
William met with the Chances and Reverend Hicks, telling them of his tentative decision to run. Maybe if he won the election, at least then he could open an investigation into Reverend Chance's death. He still wasn't hundred percent certain he wanted to do this, but he knew he couldn't let someone get away with murder. Maybe his wife was right, maybe this was God pushing him to follow his political dream.
Well, Lord, I sure wish you would have given me a nudge into my political career, not a shove like this
, he mused.
Well, Lord, I sure wish you would have given me a nudge into my political career, not a shove like this
, he mused.
Reverend Hicks seemed pleased William would run and told him he would see to it that William's family moved into a larger home immediately and got another car.
“Why?” William asked.
Reverend Hicks looked at Olivia, who shrugged. “Well, you know politics is very much about appearances,” he said. “And we really must make sure your image is appropriate.”
“My image is fine,” William said, feeling his face growing hot. He worked hard to put his best foot forward. He was living in a house that was already more than he could afford. He couldn't take on any more expense. And he didn't want handouts.
“Well, your house is all right,” Reverend Hicks said. “It's decent, but it's not truly a âwow' factor. For that, you need to change zip codes. And that little car you drive?”
Olivia jumped in. “What he means is that we need to give your image some punch. You need to look like you have already arrived, like you've made it.”
“Yes, not like you're hanging on by a thread,” Reverend Hicks insisted. “It just isn't right. You've got to look self-sufficient and your carâ”
“I
am
self-sufficient,” William said stiffly. “I take care of my family. I don't need some handout.”
am
self-sufficient,” William said stiffly. “I take care of my family. I don't need some handout.”
“William,” Olivia said, touching his hand. “Reverend Hicks didn't mean any harm. We all want what's best for the campaign. And he's right. You can't be a mayoral candidate driving around in some budget college-student looking car.”
“Besides, I understand you are in a bit of a financial bind,” Reverend Hicks said. “I believe your home is on the verge of foreclosure, is that correct?”
William's eyebrows shot up in surprise edged with embarrassment. How did Reverend Hicks know about that? “Oh, uh, weâ”
“Never mind all that,” Reverend Hicks interrupted. “My point here is that it seems this new residence will be right on time for you. We can arrange a quick sale of your house so you don't have that foreclosure on your record. I know someone who can help with that. And we can get you moved.”
William's jaw was tight. All the feelings of inadequacy came flooding back. Nikki deserved to live better than having to struggle to keep a roof over her head or to share a breakdown-prone car with him. And his child deserved access to the best. “I'm not taking somebody's handouts.”
“Don't look at it as such,” Reverend Hicks said. “It's not a handout. Just think of it as something to tide you over until better things come along. And you're a bright young man; better things will come along soon for you.”
“Well, what about campaign finance rules or something?” William said. “I can'tâ”
“Well, you're not a candidate yet,” Reverend Hicks said. “You're just a young man trying to provide for his family. And I'm a pastor interested in helping young families. Olivia and I have it all arranged.”
William glanced sharply at Olivia, who smiled, but said nothing. Reverend Hicks continued. “The house belongs to a friend who is out of the country and needs a house sitter. And I have a friend who owns a car dealership who is just waiting for the word. He owes me a favor. Olivia has seen to it that you have a new bank account.”
“Well, let me think about it,” William said finally.
William mulled the idea over for another few days. He and Nikki spoke about the upcoming election in hushed tones after Psalm went to bed at night. This would mean so many changes for them.
The first few days of September seemed to speed by as the qualifying deadline drew near. And now, time had run out. William had to make his decision public. Today was the last day to qualify for the upcoming elections. If he went through with signing up, there would be no turning back.
“You sure this is okay, Nikki?” William peered into her face. “If you don't want me to run, I won't. I know it's asking a lot.”
Nikki's temples began to pound, but she smiled. “It's okay.”
William smiled back, glad to have her support. He grabbed the car keys from the table. “Well, I'm going to sign up to run for mayor.”
The story came out in the paper the next day, broadcasting a new challenger for Dark. The frenzy was immediate. “Who is this young kid?” Someone from Lo Dark's camp was quoted as saying in the story.
William read the story through three times before putting the paper down. It didn't bother him that they had questions about him.
They'll know who William Broussard is before long,
he mused, the excitement of his decision finally taking hold. He had always thought he would be older by the time he ran for office, but he was finally wrapping his head around the idea that he could become the city's youngest mayor. He had worked all his life for thisâhe didn't even have a single speeding ticket. “Keep your nose clean,” his old political science professor had told all the students. And William had taken that to heart. He didn't want to be compromised like so many candidates; by some skeleton clanking out of the closet.
They'll know who William Broussard is before long,
he mused, the excitement of his decision finally taking hold. He had always thought he would be older by the time he ran for office, but he was finally wrapping his head around the idea that he could become the city's youngest mayor. He had worked all his life for thisâhe didn't even have a single speeding ticket. “Keep your nose clean,” his old political science professor had told all the students. And William had taken that to heart. He didn't want to be compromised like so many candidates; by some skeleton clanking out of the closet.
Even before he officially declared his candidacy, so many things had happened at lightning speed. The family's move had been a hurried one, as they tried to get everything settled before his announcement. In a matter of days, they were living in a four-bedroom house in one of the city's mixed race, nicer neighborhoodsâthough, purposefully not the wealthiestâand driving a shiny Yukon. He had decided to keep driving the Protégé, though, and leave the Yukon for Nikki. His new home was in the wealthiest part of town, but not the wealthiest neighborhood. Reverend Hicks said this would give him the credibility with the Whites but not alienate him from the Blacks.
The house was a shade smaller than their other one, but it was a lot nicer, with its landscaped lawn and newer construction. Just last week, they had celebrated Psalm's fifth birthday with a party under the gazebo on the back lawn. Mac and his family had attended, as had William's mother, with the woman inspecting the house and giving a nod of approval, as she thought her son had finally begun making some real money. William basked under her smile. He had seen Nikki trying to put on a smile as well, though he knew without being told that she was disappointed when her mother called the morning of the party to say she and her husband would not be able to make the drive up from Houston, because Carla had some type of emergency.
The house would be great for entertaining, William knew, as he envisioned the many political meetings and social engagements they would have. As for the vehicle, it wasn't new, but it looked good. He had insisted on keeping the Protégé, though. It was the first big purchase he and Nikki had made together and it meant a lot to them.
He would hire a couple of people to help him run his computer business. That way, his business could grow while he focused on the campaign. Now that he didn't have the pressure of the monstrous mortgage, William could have a little breathing room. He would use the money he had been directing to the mortgage to now pay a couple of part-time employees.
I told Nikki we would be all right. We've suddenly moved on up like the Jeffersons
, William mused, humming a few bars from the old television show.
, William mused, humming a few bars from the old television show.
“Who is William Broussard, indeed?” he chuckled at the question the newspaper had posed. “Just wait till they find out.”
His eye caught sight of something else on the page. He squinted and peered closer.
Photo by Nikki Broussard. What is this?
He frowned as he read the story that accompanied the photo, about a big-rig that crashed into an SUV, sending a woman and child to the hospital and killing the driver of the rig.
Photo by Nikki Broussard. What is this?
He frowned as he read the story that accompanied the photo, about a big-rig that crashed into an SUV, sending a woman and child to the hospital and killing the driver of the rig.
“Nikki didn't even say anything about this,” William muttered, jabbing his finger at the photo. “But I know she's not trying to start working again. We've already settled that.”
Before he could call Nikki, his cell phone rang. William did not recognize the number but answered anyway. “Hello?”
“So, are you ready to get your rear end kicked?”
The voice was unmistakable. It was Spencer.
“How'd you get this number?” William demanded.
“You must have forgotten. You're a political candidate now. I can get any information on you I want.”
“Well, there is really nothing to get on me, so I'm not concerned. And to answer your question, the only kicking that'll be going on is the thrashing you'll get on Election Day.” William hung up. Excitement coursed through him, but so did trepidation.
“What have I gotten myself into?”
Chapter 30
The doorbell rang and Nikki quickly put down the apple pie she had just removed from the oven, its scent of cinnamon and spices wafting throughout the house. She dusted a bit of flour from her chin with the back of her hand, and wiped her palms on a dish towel as she crossed the expanse that was the living room of her new home. The move from the old house had been quick, as Olivia and Reverend Hicks insisted on removing all vestiges of a struggling middle class family from William. Now, they lived in an expensive Southeast Shreveport home.
“Who is it?” Nikki called.
“Trudy McWilliams.”
Trudy McWilliams?
“Who?”
“Who?”
“It's Trudy, dear,” the voice called. “Please open the door so I do not have to continue standing out here.”
Who is Trudy? Nikki wondered. She opened the door and her eyes widened. Oh.
Trudy.
Trudy McWilliams was among the city's black social elite and often appeared in the newspaper. She stepped into the living room, unbidden, her expensive perfume softly tickling Nikki's nose, as her pearl earrings and upswept hair drew attention to a long, elegant neck. Trudy's posture was perfect and her dress impeccable, as she checked out the newly decorated house Nikki and William had moved into only days before. Trudy's eyes trailed over the furnishings.
Trudy.
Trudy McWilliams was among the city's black social elite and often appeared in the newspaper. She stepped into the living room, unbidden, her expensive perfume softly tickling Nikki's nose, as her pearl earrings and upswept hair drew attention to a long, elegant neck. Trudy's posture was perfect and her dress impeccable, as she checked out the newly decorated house Nikki and William had moved into only days before. Trudy's eyes trailed over the furnishings.
“Not a bad start,” she said, a slight frown creasing her brow. “Before long though, we will need to replace that couch with this season's version.”
“Pardon?”
Trudy turned. “Olivia asked me to stop by your home to help refine your tastes and to groom you, as you'll now be traveling in some very prestigious circles,” Trudy said, again looking around. “I see we're going to have our work cut out for us.”
“Oh . . . I. . . .” Nikki said, flustered. “We just moved in. We're still working, though I thought the decorating project was coming along nicely.”
William had told Nikki that Reverend Hicks had a friend who needed a sitter for this Victorian-style house with its pitched roofs and high ceilings. Some of the furnishings belonged to the owners, but Nikki had redecorated the living room. She had brought in a contemporary vanilla leather love seat and couch set, and had placed an Oriental rug in front of the couch, flanking it on both sides with lamps. She created an intimate setting in the large space.
“Well, I'm sure you did your best,” Trudy said. She held out her gloved hand. “My throat is parched, dear.”
Nikki snapped into action, her mind whirling. Olivia sent Trudy? But why?
I have taste and I know how to act in public. I don't need some high-class tutor
, she thought to herself. Nikki immediately moved to the kitchen. She turned to face the woman again, though. “Oh, forgive my manners,” she said. “Please, have a seat. Would you like sweet tea?”
I have taste and I know how to act in public. I don't need some high-class tutor
, she thought to herself. Nikki immediately moved to the kitchen. She turned to face the woman again, though. “Oh, forgive my manners,” she said. “Please, have a seat. Would you like sweet tea?”
Trudy's brows shot up ever so slightly. “Sweet tea? Do you have any hot tea? Any golden needle perhaps?”
“Oh, I can make it hot,” Nikki said, smiling. “That's not a problem. What's golden needle?”
“It's a black tea.”
“Oh, yeah, I have black tea right here,” Nikki said, pulling the bags out of the cabinet.
Trudy looked aghast. “No, darling, surely you're not referring to those supermarket tea bags? The tea I'm interested in costs at least $80 an ounce, not ninety-nine cents for a whole box.”
Nikki gulped. “Oh . . . I . . .” she looked at the tea box in her hand, embarrassed. “I'm sorry. I don't have anything like that.”
Trudy sighed and fanned her face. “Oh my,” she said. “We must get started quickly on your refinement. I'll pass on the tea. Do you have any scones and a bit of marmalade or spread?”
Nikki squirmed. “I don't. But I do have apple pie I just made.”
Trudy pursed her lips but nodded. “Very well. I'll take a bit of the pie.”
Trudy insisted Nikki have a spa date with her the following afternoon. Nikki didn't want to go, but she knew William wouldn't like it if she alienated these new people who were prying into her life, so she arranged for Keedra to baby-sit Psalm after school.
“I can't do anything to jeopardize my husband's new career,” Nikki reminded herself. It didn't matter if she preferred an afternoon at home so she could work on her thesis for her final degree requirements. Nor did it matter if she wanted to spend time helping Psalm with her kindergarten assignment, now that the girl was in school. Nikki needed to get out there and start mixing and mingling with Trudy and her friends.
As she stood on the steps of the spa the next day, Nikki had to admit that some of the high life wasn't so bad. This was her first-ever spa visit. She strode into the foyer and was immediately met by a smiling attendant.
“Good afternoon,” the lady said, gesturing for Nikki to follow her. She seemed to know who Nikki was, even without an introduction. “Mrs. Broussard, please come this way.”
The woman led Nikki into a back room with reclining seats. “Please wait right here. Make yourself comfortable.”
Nikki received a little jolt at the personal attention, and sneaked a peek around. The green and white colors seemed to spell serenity and the plush furnishings bespoke the luxury of the moment. “Has Mrs. McWilliams arrived?”
“She telephoned just before your arrival to say she is running a tad late, but she will be here shortly.”
Nikki sighed with relief, glad it was McWilliams who was late. The attendant left Nikki and her stomach immediately rumbled loudly. She tried to suck her midsection in to squelch the sound, thankful she was alone.
She sat in the soft chair to wait for Trudy, but her stomach squealed again. Nikki rummaged around in her purse for gum, candy, anything. Her eyes fell on a bowl of cucumber slices and a basin of water with lemons. “Oh, they have refreshments,” she said and walked over to the bowl. “People with money are so weird. Who wants to just eat a bowl of cucumbers? And where are the napkins and forks?” The hunger pangs reminded her that she didn't care about napkins right now.
Nikki didn't want anyone to see her dig into the bowl with her fingers so she quickly glanced around to make sure no one was coming, and then fished a few cucumber slices out of the bowl. She said a hasty grace and stuck them in her mouth. The cool crispness felt good on her tongue.
She stood over the bowl, eating a few more. She was chewing a slice when the attendant and Trudy stepped into the room. “Good afternoon, Nikki,” Trudy said, eyeing the bowl of cucumbers.
“Hi,” Nikki said, swallowing the last bit and moving away from the bowl.
“When are you going to do something about that nappy head?” Trudy whispered when the attendant showed them to their changing area.
Another attendant placed cucumber slices on the eyes of a woman reclining in a robe on a plush seat. Nikki gulped in embarrassment.
So that's what those cucumber pieces were for,
she realized.
So that's what those cucumber pieces were for,
she realized.
“Did you hear what I said?” Trudy repeated.
“Huh?” Nikki drew her attention back to Trudy.
“Your hair. When are you going to do something about that nappy head of yours?”
“What do you mean?” Nikki touched her natural hair, which was pulled back into a puffy ponytail.
Trudy rolled her eyes. “Surely, you can't expect to walk around looking like a pickaninny.”
“Pickaninny?” Nikki was offended.
Trudy waved off the protest. “Spare me the righteous indignation,” she said. “I know you think you're being vogue by going ânatural' but the nappy hair has got to go. You're going to have to get a perm in that head of yours. Surely you don't want to be photographed looking like some little refugee child?”
Nikki's back stiffened. “I don't believe I look like anyone's
refugee
,” she told the older black woman stiffly. Her mother hadn't liked when Nikki began wearing her hair natural five years before, and even Danielle had disliked the look. But Nikki had insisted on the natural look. At the time, she had done it because she detested spending all day in a beauty shop and it was a bit of a financial decision as she couldn't afford to have regular beauty appointments after she got married. Besides, Nikki thought she was cute with natural hair. She cut her eyes at Trudy.
refugee
,” she told the older black woman stiffly. Her mother hadn't liked when Nikki began wearing her hair natural five years before, and even Danielle had disliked the look. But Nikki had insisted on the natural look. At the time, she had done it because she detested spending all day in a beauty shop and it was a bit of a financial decision as she couldn't afford to have regular beauty appointments after she got married. Besides, Nikki thought she was cute with natural hair. She cut her eyes at Trudy.
“Well, be that as it may,” Trudy said, “we must do something about that head. I can understand your affinity for Mother Africa or whatever, but you've got to look at the big picture. What you look like is quite important to this campaign. And do you want to help your husband or hinder him?”
“I want to help him, of course.”
“Then you'll need to get rid of that hair,” Trudy said. “This campaign is not about what you want. It's about what will get your husband elected. And if that means sacrificing a bit of yourself, then you'll need to do that.”
Nikki looked down at her hands. Sacrificing for her husband was nothing new. She nodded. This was yet another piece of herself she had to give up.
Nikki picked up Psalm from Keedra's later that evening and took her to the campaign office. She let the child play in a corner, while Nikki designed posters, flyers and yard signs on the computer. Olivia would take them to be printed the next day.
The office was abuzz with activity. Some of Oliver Chance's volunteers had stayed on and the small office had an air of purpose.
“We may be small and few in number, but we are going to do this!” William said, rallying his troops.
“Yeah!” a volunteer yelled. Another clapped.
Nikki looked up from her work and smiled. Reverend Hicks had promised to help raise funds and to send his church members to vote for William, but Nikki knew pulling off this campaign in so short a time frame would still be difficult. William's days were even longer than when he worked on Reverend Chance's campaign. And now, Nikki found herself at the campaign office often.
The volunteers started leaving one by one around 10:00
P.M.
, until only Nikki, William and Olivia remained. Olivia and William were hunched over a table, scouring a city map and planning strategy.
P.M.
, until only Nikki, William and Olivia remained. Olivia and William were hunched over a table, scouring a city map and planning strategy.
Nikki rose from her seat to take a stretch. Psalm was playing with a doll, but Nikki could tell the child was sleepy. She stretched and walked to William. “Baby, it's getting late.” Nikki rubbed his back.
William looked up. “Huh?”
Nikki smiled. William could be so one-track. “The time. It's after eleven,” she said. “Psalm is getting antsy. She has school tomorrow.”
“Baby, we just have a few more things to discuss,” William said, looking at Olivia, who held no expression.
“I know, sweetie, but you'll stay out here all night if I let you,” Nikki said. “Everybody else is gone. I know we have a lot of work to do on this campaign, but we also have a life.”
“Baby, this campaign is my life right now,” William said.
“William, we really have a lot of work to do,” Olivia said quietly.
“William, it's almost midnight,” Nikki said. “I'm tired. Psalm is tired.”
“Oh, well, you don't have to stay. That's one of the good things about having two cars now. Why don't you go on home? I'll finish this up with Olivia and be right there.”
“I was thinking we could
all
go home,” Nikki insisted.
all
go home,” Nikki insisted.
Olivia stood and smoothed her charcoal skirt over her round hips. “Well, maybe your wife is right. Maybe we are putting too much time into this campaign. All the volunteers have left. We can pick up tomorrow. I guess just because we got a late start and have to play catch up is no reason for us to work so hard, huh?”
William held up his hand. “Wait, Olivia, don't go,” he said. He turned to his wife. “Baby, Olivia is right. We are in a race against time.”
Nikki's shoulders slumped. “Okay, baby,” she said. “Fine. But I'll wait around with you. We'll stay for a while longer.”
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