When Rain Falls (20 page)
Authors: Tyora M. Moody
Chapter Thirty-nine
Her mind went haywire. How did Avante Lafayette know her name?
Wait. Calm down.
She'd shared her name with the security guard. He'd seemed like such a nice old man. Avante was a businessman, and he had a right to know who this woman was in his gallery before opening hours. Maybe that was it.
Wait. Calm down.
She'd shared her name with the security guard. He'd seemed like such a nice old man. Avante was a businessman, and he had a right to know who this woman was in his gallery before opening hours. Maybe that was it.
Still, he'd approached her at the funeral like he knew her. He had been watching her. She was sure of it.
She breathed. But now she had a phone call to return.
Guilt washed over her as she heard the voice. “Desiree, how are you?” She'd been avoiding both of Pamela's parents since the funeral.
“I'm as well as can be expected. And you?”
“I'm doing okay.” She took a deep breath. “I'm sorry for not checking in with you sooner.”
“Not a problem, dear. This has been a hard time for all of us. I know you are usually off on Mondays, since the salon is open on Saturdays. Do you have some time today to drop by? I need to talk to you about something important.”
“Sure. I can be over there in thirty minutes.” As she snapped the cell phone shut, she wasn't sure if she was ready to talk to the woman who'd raised her best friend. She'd been holding her emotions together better than she would have thought. Still, she needed to find out what Desiree had to say.
A half hour later Candace pulled into the Colemans' long cobblestone driveway. She admired the array of blue and red pansies lining the walkway. Orange and golden chrysanthemums rose from the back side. Gardening. Something Candace never seemed to be able to pursue freely. Sadly, with Frank's death, the landscaping around their home had suffered. Though she loved the salon, the day-to-day operations continued to drain her dry.
Before Candace reached the front porch, she heard the door open. Still in a fuzzy bathrobe and with a bright blue scarf tied around her head, Desiree opened the door. Candace couldn't remember ever seeing the woman quite so dressed down this time of the day.
“Come on, come on. It's a little nippy out here this morning,” Desiree said. A dog barked behind her.
Pamela couldn't stand Poochie. She liked to say, “Momma replaced me with some dog. And of all the breeds in the world, a pug with its ole squashed nose.” Poochie acted like he owned Desiree and didn't mind letting people know.
The smell of strong coffee and cinnamon tickled Candace's nose as she walked through the door. The two women hugged for a moment in the hallway. Poochie sniffed around her pant legs, and his claws clicked against the wood floor as he pranced around in a circle. He seemed to be saying, “I know you, lady, but you haven't been here in a while.”
His little doggy nose spoke the truth.
Desiree's house was the closest thing Candace had to a home away from home. A place where she felt loved. In this home, as a teenager, she'd often pondered how life would've been different if her own mother had lived. She drew in a sharp breath.
“Honey, you okay?”
Not realizing Desiree had heard her, she smiled. “I'm fine. It's good to see you.”
She followed Desiree through the large living room, where pictures of Pamela as a baby, a toddler, a child in elementary school and middle school took center stage on one wall. On the other side were a prom picture, cheerleading trophies, and even a picture of Pamela as homecoming queen.
As the two women passed through a hallway leading to the kitchen, Candace glimpsed recent photos of Pamela on the walls. Candace's eyes watered as she saw her friend standing next to all types of dignitaries, including the current governor of North Carolina.
She knew Desiree was proud of her daughter, but she didn't know if keeping so many mementos would help the Colemans during their grief. It was like walking through a shrine.
Funny how much Desiree loved Pamela, as though she'd given birth to her. Before being appointed to the bench, Judge Coleman lost his first wife to cancer. Given his stressful career as a prosecutor, and with a toddler to care for, it didn't take long for the judge to fall in love again. Desiree stepped in as a wife and a mother with no regrets. Even though Desiree's title was stepmother, Pamela never hesitated to call the woman who raised her Momma.
This same woman had wrapped her arms around Pamela's skinny, confused best friend, taking Candace under her wing, too, as a surrogate mother.
In the large kitchen Desiree stood at the island and poured two steamy cups of coffee. A plate of sticky cinnamon buns were already on the counter. Candace inhaled the sugary scent. The Colemans could've hired help, but Desiree preferred to take care of her household, from baking to cleaning.
“Here's your coffee. Now, don't be shy. Grab one. I know you have to be hungry, and even if you aren't, I know your taste buds are watering.”
Candace pulled a small plate from the stack and reached over for a bun. Before she tore into the bun, she took a sip from the cup Desiree had placed in front of her. For a moment she closed her eyes, savoring the strong brew. She opened her eyes to find Desiree watching her.
“I'm so glad you came, Candace. I missed you.”
“When I walked through the house a minute ago, it was almost like Pamela was here.”
“In a way, she is still here. I know her body is physically not here, but I believe she's watching. That girl was too nosy to miss anything.”
They laughed softly, then sipped and chewed in silence.
Too nosy
. Pamela had always been inquisitive. Did she find out some information that put her life in danger?
Too nosy
. Pamela had always been inquisitive. Did she find out some information that put her life in danger?
“Candace?”
The tremble in Desiree's voice caught Candace off guard. “What's wrong?” Candace reached over and placed her hand across the older woman's hand. Despite her dressed-down appearance, Desiree still wore her jewelry. The large emerald ring felt smooth under Candace's touch.
With glistening tears in her eyes, Desiree spoke softly. “I hate this media circus around Pamela. Do you know that reporter came by the house while I was outside in the garden?”
“Which reporter?” Candace kind of knew but didn't want to jump to conclusions.
“Serena Manchester. You remember how she went after Pamela years ago?”
“I remember.” The reporter had wasted airtime pointing out how one of Pamela's clients, a former heavyweight champion, had links to known drug dealers. Every time the news story aired, Pamela had pleaded with a news camera to stop trying her client's case in the media.
Innocent until proven guilty
.
Innocent until proven guilty
.
“You know, the judge never did like that Pamela chose to be a defense lawyer. They butted heads over her choosing the other side, he would say. That case really ate at him and their relationship.”
Seeing an opportunity, Candace dove for it. “How did he feel about Mitch Harris?”
“Oh. Well, he wasn't too happy about Mitch, either. But Mitch always said, there were innocent people out there who needed a good defense team. The burden of proof always rests on the prosecutor's shoulders.”
Candace still wondered how much the Colemans knew about the relationship between Mitch and Pamela. Was now the time to bring it up?
Before she had a chance, Desiree cleared her throat. “With that reporter and so many others trying to dig into Pamela's life, I need your help.”
“Sure. Whatever it is, let me know.”
“Good. I want to start a Pamela Coleman scholarship fund.”
“That's a great idea. Pamela loved to give back, especially to young girls.”
“Exactly. So you can help me manage this project.”
“What?” Okay, maybe she shouldn't have agreed until she heard Desiree's full plan. She had a salon to run and her own teens to keep up with.
“Candace, you are perfect for this. You knew Pamela well, and you have a connection with teens, too.”
“I don't know.”
“You would be perfect on the selection committee.”
“Committee? Okay, well ... let's discuss this in a few months.”
“No, no, no. We need to make this decision soon.”
“But Pamela's barely been gone two weeks.”
“I know. I know. But this opportunity was presented to me over the weekend. The judge and I agree. We want to give the media something else to focus on besides my daughter's court history. Something positive.”
Candace sighed. If the judge, as Desiree liked to call her husband, wanted this to take place, she didn't see how she could wiggle out of it. Judge Coleman liked to get what he wanted. “Okay. When does all this take place?”
“This evening.”
“Desiree, you weren't kidding about this being soon. How did you manage to pull this off?”
“I talked to a friend. There is already a scholarship benefit sponsored annually by Victory Gospel. You would be responsible for choosing a special scholarship recipient for the Pamela Coleman fund. The judge and I didn't think it was appropriate for us to do this now, but you knew her so well.”
A headache crept in around Candace's temples. “Desiree, you know I will help wherever I can, butâ” A loud chime cut off Candace's words. She searched Desiree's face. “Were you expecting someone else?”
“I did ask one of the committee members to stop by. I will be right back.”
Great! Bring on the cavalry
. The idea seemed perfect, but Candace wasn't buying the urgency. She reached for another cinnamon bun and sank her teeth into the pastry. Lord knows, she didn't need the calories, but these were too good to pass up.
. The idea seemed perfect, but Candace wasn't buying the urgency. She reached for another cinnamon bun and sank her teeth into the pastry. Lord knows, she didn't need the calories, but these were too good to pass up.
Desiree entered the kitchen and exclaimed, “Look who's here! Perfect timing.”
With her cheeks still puffy from the cinnamon bun, Candace turned to see Desiree's visitor. She stopped chewing and stared. The sticky pastry stuck to her mouth like glue.
Yvonne Harris's plastic smile stretched across her face like a Barbie doll's. “Candace, it's so good to meet you. Desiree told me she shared my idea with you. Brilliant, isn't it?”
Her idea?
Did Desiree not have a clue about this woman? Yvonne had to harbor a deep hatred for Pamela, which made this idea all the more ludicrous. Was this some kind of cover-up for something?
Did Desiree not have a clue about this woman? Yvonne had to harbor a deep hatred for Pamela, which made this idea all the more ludicrous. Was this some kind of cover-up for something?
Desiree placed her arm around Yvonne. “Yvonne coordinates the scholarship benefit every year at Victory Gospel.”
“Yes. This is the seventh year for the benefit. We're meeting this evening at six o'clock to select the scholarship recipients. It basically involves reading essays and using a score sheet. I know this may be an inconvenience to you, Candace, but it seemed appropriate. The Colemans gave such a heartfelt donation to the cause. I hope you are willing to help.”
Candace hoped her mouth curved into a smile. Either she had eaten too many cinnamon buns or standing in the same room with Yvonne Harris was making her nauseous. “I will be there.”
Desiree pranced over and hugged her. “Thank you, Candace. This means so much.”
A few minutes later Candace marched to the car, opened the door, and slammed it shut. She smelled something foul going on, but she wasn't sure what. Her participation in the scholarship selection process would be for the Colemans and Pamela.
She really wanted to corner Yvonne. Maybe even have a woman-to-woman talk. She rummaged through her purse, moving around receipts and other oddities. Finally, she found the business card and dialed the number. A dull voice on the other end answered after the third ring. “Charlotte Police Department.”
“Yes, may I speak to Detective Jackson in Homicide please?” They needed to do more than save Pamela's name from being trampled in the media. They needed to catch a killer in his or
her
own game.
her
own game.
Chapter Forty
Everything seemed so surreal. Candace pulled into the Victory Gospel Church parking lot. Her childhood friend hadn't been buried barely a week, but here she was, getting ready to select a recipient for a special Pamela Coleman scholarship. Wasn't this supposed to be done after a person had a long life and then passed away quietly?
To think that only a few weeks ago the two friends had joked about turning the big four-oh in the next year. There'd been a sense of sadness in the conversation despite their laughter. Pamela's birthday was only four weeks away.
November 20.
It seemed like Candace had more and more dates on her calendar to avoid. Her favorite holidays were approaching soon, Thanksgiving and Christmas. She had lost her joy for those holidays after her mother's death, had gained it back after her children were born, but couldn't stand to deal with the holidays since Frank's death.
She'd never imagined her life would turn out the way it had. Oh, she wanted people to think all was well. But the cold, hard reality was that she'd never struggled so much in her life. If it wasn't for her children and her salon, Candace had no idea what she would do.
My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.
Candace watched the last remains of the sun set in the sky. This time of year, the days were short, and there was even a bit of a chill in the air. She grabbed her jacket, but before she opened the door, she closed her eyes. “Lord, I don't know whether I'm coming or going right now. I have so much bearing down on my shoulders. I don't understand even why I'm here and what the real purpose in doing this is. Continue to protect my children and me. In Jesus's name, Amen.”
She hopped out of the car and then quickened her steps down the paved sidewalk surrounding Victory Gospel. Her footsteps created a purposeful rhythm as she crossed the cobblestone and brick leading up to the office area. Once inside, she passed a quiet alcove filled with plants and glass-encased bulletin boards.
All was quiet and motionless in the church administration area, which was designed with leather furnishings, terra-cotta-colored walls, and mahogany molding. A large portrait of a younger Pastor Jeremiah Freeman enclosed in a gold ornamental frame greeted her from behind the receptionist's area. His contagious smile embraced every visitor that walked through the doors of Victory Gospel. Black-and-white photos representing fifty years of worship services and events were displayed asymmetrically along the walls.
No one sat at the receptionist's desk, but there were people talking nearby. On the far side of the lobby area, Pastor Freeman's door was closed, but a conversation behind the door refused to be contained. Her feet sank into the plush burgundy carpet as she headed to the door. She wasn't sure where the scholarship committee was meeting. Surely, someone in there could tell her. As she approached the door, a familiar female voice pierced her ears.
“This is not good publicity for the church, Pastor. I love the Colemans and I appreciate everything they do for Victory Gospel, but I really object to this special memorial, or whatever it is.”
Was that Yvonne Harris's voice? Didn't this same woman claim this was her idea earlier at Desiree's home? Candace stepped closer to the door. She heard the tail end of Pastor Freeman's response.
“Pamela was a member at this church all her life. I hate the way she was taken from us. Now, you know many, many people love the Coleman family. This will not affect the scholarship benefit one bit. I think you are overreacting, Sister Harris.”
“Pastor Freeman, did you hear what I said? Desiree invited the press to come to this. The whole event will be in shambles. It will become a media circus about Pamela, instead of about the students.”
Candace had heard enough. She knocked. The voices stopped.
Pastor Freeman called out, “Yes? Come in.”
Candace had expected irritation, but the voice was gentle and inviting. She opened the door and walked inside to find Yvonne's face flustered. What was upsetting this woman so much? Was she afraid of being exposed?
Pastor Freeman examined Candace from his chair; his eyes were friendly, but duller than usual. A small-framed man in his seventies, he seemed frailer in person. Over the past few months, the illustrious pastor had relied on his staff to manage the services. The more Pastor Freeman remained absent from services and the television ministry, the more rumors ran rampant about his health, especially now with his oldest son, Jonathan, taking on more leadership responsibilities.
Candace ignored Yvonne. “Good evening, Pastor Freeman. How are you feeling today?”
Still quite handsome, especially when he smiled, the white-haired minister responded, “I'm doing as well as the Lord will allow, which is good enough for me. How can I help you, young lady?”
“I'm here to help out with the scholarship selection process, specifically the one dedicated to Pamela Coleman.” To her right, Yvonne fidgeted. Candace also observed the pointed look Pastor Freeman gave the woman.
The older man stood and shuffled around the desk, toward Candace. She grabbed his hands. They were bony, but warm and smooth.
“And you are Mrs...”
“Mrs. Johnson. Candace Johnson.”
“Did you know Sister Pamela well?”
Candace returned his hand squeeze. “Since seventh grade, Pastor Freeman.”
“Oh my, I'm sorry for your loss, sister. We all miss Pamela terribly.” He turned his head to address Yvonne. “I'm sure you know Mrs. Harris is the chairperson, so she'd be better able to tell you where everyone is set up. I'll pray the student who deserves this honor the most will be selected.”
“Yes, we all do. Candace, I'm glad you could attend.” Yvonne smiled, but she seemed to be in pain. “We'll get started in a few minutes. Why don't you wait out in the lobby? Or better yet, if you walk down the hall and make a right at the water fountain, we'll be meeting in that classroom. I need to make a phone call.”
Candace waited until Yvonne left before turning back to Pastor Freeman. “I don't know if you remember. It's been almost two years now. You came to pray over my husband, Detective Frank Johnson. He passed away from gunshot wounds. I wanted to thank you again.”
Pastor Freeman shook his head. “I'm an old man. Been having trouble remembering a lot of stuff lately, but I remember your Frank. He's one of the ones I won't ever forget.”
He was known for being personable, and his sharp-as-a-tack memory made him a beloved pastor. It meant a lot to her that he remembered Frank. Sometimes she felt like others had simply forgotten about her husband.
“Is everything all right, sister?”
Candace hadn't realized she'd let her emotions get the best of her. Embarrassed, she looked away, not sure what to say. “I'm fine. I guess I better get down the hallway.”
“Be blessed, my dear sister in Christ.”
She left the office and closed the door behind her. Back in the administration area, Candace looked in both directions. Yvonne hadn't told her whether to go left or right when she left the pastor's office. Maybe she could corner the woman before anyone else showed up for the meeting. Alibis weren't always as airtight as they seemed.
She swerved to the right, passing the secretary's office and another room, where two large copiers sat motionless. Out in the hallway, Candace stood for a minute and listened. Yvonne's voice carried down the hallway from the right. Was that the classroom? But there wasn't a water fountain. She took a left. Yvonne's voice grew louder. Almost panicky.
“No, I can't do this, I told you.” Yvonne's voice carried from a room straight ahead.
Candace stopped, her heart beating in her chest. She looked down the hallway behind her and then edged up against the wall, tiptoeing closer to the open door.
“I told you I would give you no more money. The job was paid for in advance. And who told you to give those photos to the media?”
Photos.
Darnell had said Yvonne paid a private detective to take photos of Pamela and Mitch together. Was that who Yvonne was talking to?
Darnell had said Yvonne paid a private detective to take photos of Pamela and Mitch together. Was that who Yvonne was talking to?
“If you call this number again ... Hello? Hello?”
She needed to move before Yvonne saw her. Or not.
The woman emerged from the classroom; her face, which could be described as almost pretty, looked every bit her age or older. Candace moved away from the wall. “So, is this where we are meeting?”
She watched with pleasure as the woman jumped at the sight of her. “Candace ... um, no. I told you down the other hallway.” Yvonne held up her hand and twisted her gold watch around to view the face. “Everyone should be here soon.”
“Why are you really doing this?”
“What?”
Candace stepped forward. “I want you to know something. You might have other people convinced that you are doing this from the bottom of your heart, but let's get real. You didn't like Pamela.”
Yvonne's facial features sagged. “That's not true. She was a remarkable woman.”
“Who happened to be in love with your husband. Yvonne, I knew Pamela for a long time. I probably knew her better than anyone. I can't say I agreed with her choices, but she was my best friend.”
The woman in front of her was only a few inches taller, but she seemed to stretch herself right in front of Candace's eyes. “Well, since you know so much, then you know I don't agree with including your friend's memory in the scholarship program. I've worked for seven years to keep this benefit a tradition. It's about the students, not Pamela Coleman.”
“That's strange. Didn't you put this idea in Desiree's head? Why the sudden change of heart?”
Yvonne huffed. “It wasn't really my idea. Something the judge and my husband came up with while playing golf. I'm not sure why it was pushed on me.”
“Okay, you know what? I'm not really concerned about your program, Yvonne. I'm concerned about how far you'd go to take care of someone you hated.”
“What are you trying to say? I had nothing to do with Pamela's death. If I had wanted to wipe out your friend, I would have a long time ago. But unlike her, I do have some morals.” Yvonne pushed past Candace and marched down the hallway, her high heels sounding more like a horse clopping.
Candace followed her down the hall at a distance. This much she knew: just as Yvonne had the wherewithal to pay someone to spy on her husband, she had the resources to pay someone to kill Pamela. She needed to find out who Yvonne had been talking to on the phone. The person probably wanted more money for another reason besides taking pictures.
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