Like Sheep Gone Astray (8 page)

The final straw was a serious hit-and-run accident that left him with a permanently damaged knee. After the crash the momentum of his investigation seemed to fizzle away, as did any legitimate leads into who had run into his old police cruiser.

Following the accident, Mona's anxiety turned into hysteria. Kent decided to remove his bid for the sheriff's seat, but he kept his internal departmental connections strong and started his own private detective business. Sheriff Malloy, Kent's close friend and former colleague, usually informed him of any new developments before the rest of the department knew anything.

Malloy was the one who'd told Kent about the FBI's inquiry into local political matters. Kent, hungry for justice and closure, immediately took the case full-time. This was personal.

He did not trust politicians. And he didn't trust preachers either. Kent was convinced that both were in it for the money and would do anything to get it.

It was for the simple thrill of the hunt that he let that young minister see that he was being watched while eating lunch at the Solomon Grill. He'd almost laughed when he saw Anthony nearly choke on a french fry, the unmistakable scent of fear permeating the air from underneath that righteous halo.

Kent had stumbled over Anthony Murdock's name a few times early on in his investigation. He was certain that Murdock was part of a growing web of deceit being spun around the town of Shepherd Hills like the silvery lace of a black widow spider. But as with any intricate web, all bugs and lowlife eventually get caught.

“I'm onto all of you,” Kent mumbled while massaging his knee. He scanned the parking lot and the front entrance of Haberstick Associates, looking for any sign of Anthony or anything that would provide further direction for the case.

He checked his rearview mirror. A shiny black Jaguar with tinted windows was nestled between two Dumpsters toward the rear of the small office building.

“Funny place to park such a fancy car.” He shook his head. As he watched, a young black female in a fur stole jumped out of the passenger's side. She slammed the door shut and started shouting through the window. Out of curiosity, Kent decided to pull his car closer to make out her words. But before he could start his ignition, she jumped back into the Jaguar and it sped off.

“Weirdos.” Kent shook his head at the spectacle before turning his attention and thoughts back to the office building.

“Wait a minute! What are you telling me?” Shock filled Terri's voice as she sat across from Cherisse, both of their plates untouched. The dim lighting of the Westcott Room did not hide the expression on Cherisse's face.

“You heard me right, girl. Your man, Anthony, has finally come around to his senses. If what I heard today is true, you two are on the verge of getting millions and millions! I can't believe it! I'm best friends with a millionaire!” Cherisse was grinning from ear to ear.

“This can't be real.” Terri sat back in her chair with an elated sigh. “Are you sure you heard right? Start over again.”

Cherisse rolled her eyes and sucked her teeth playfully. “I've told you the same story three times this past hour. You're going to make me late. I'm not like you. I have a supervisor to report to when I return from lunch.”

“I know, Cherisse, but this sounds too good to be true. I need you to tell me this one more time to make sure I'm hearing you right. Now what happened again?”

“Like I said, I was running some numbers for Mr. Fabian to make sure we were ready for a wedding we're catering this weekend. You know how the business wing at Fabian's Catering Service is set up. I'm in the cubicle closest to the window, with three cubicles next to me, and then there's the door that leads to the hallway where you can either leave the building or go back to the kitchen.”

“I know, I know. Get to the good part.”

“Anyway, while I was working, I heard what sounded like two men come in and sit in the cubicle closest to the door. I figured they were potential customers Mr. Fabian was about to meet with. Well, before Mr. Fabian came in, they were talking about some meeting that was supposed to be happening at two o'clock today. I wasn't really paying attention because I wanted to finish what I was doing to meet you for lunch on time.”

“Like that was really going to happen,” Terri joked. Cherisse rolled her eyes again.

“As I was saying, I wasn't paying attention to their conversation until I heard them say something about a Mr. Murdock. Of course, I wondered if they were talking about your Anthony. That's when I heard one of them clearly state, and I quote, ‘After today's meeting with Haberstick, Anthony Murdock will be one of the wealthiest young men in Shepherd Hills.’] The other man did not sound so certain. He seemed to be questioning something about Anthony. He was talking too low for me to make out what he was saying.

“But the first guy seemed confident. He said, ‘Anthony's already taken one and a half million dollars toward our cause. Two million more will go even further, especially for someone who already has the connections we need.’] Girl, I almost fell out of my seat.”

“Are you sure about this?” Terri looked uncertain.

“Look, I've been trying to get to this part. I have the proof from the horse's mouth, or whatever. Check this out for yourself if you don't believe me.” Cherisse pulled a piece of paper out of her handbag. “When they left, I noticed this on the floor. See, it looks like it was torn out of a date book.” She held up the scrap for Terri to see.

“Girl, give that to me.” Terri snatched it, noted the date in black ink, and then read the slanted handwriting aloud.

“'Anthony Murdock (410) 555–3793, meets at two, gets $2 mil, confirmed by'…I can't make out those initials.” Terri shook her head at the looped letters that ran together. “But that's Anthony's name, that's our home number, and it looks like it was confirmed. Oh my goodness, Cherisse?” The uncertainty was turning into shock. She flipped open her cell phone and dialed Anthony's work number. When the receptionist informed her that Anthony was in an important meeting with the company president, Terri's jaw dropped.

“Important meeting? Okay, thank you.” Terri stared at Cherisse in disbelief as she hung up the phone.

“See, I told you.” Cherisse danced in her seat. “You've got all the proof you need, Terri. Your husband has made you a millionaire.”

“I guess the Lord really does work in mysterious ways.” Terri sat silent for a moment with a fork in mid-air. “And I thought we had a lot of money when he was working for Shaw Enterprises. I was never sure how much he was making there, although it seemed that Anthony was able to get any-and everything I wanted no matter the cost, especially right before he quit. Look at our house! But millions? Girl, I can't believe it!”

Terri shook her head slowly. She took a bite of her now cold pasta primavera before continuing.

“All this time I was upset about Anthony taking that poor man's job at Haberstick Associates. I guess it wasn't that poor after all He normally tells me about all the accounts he's handling, but I guess he was holding back on me. I didn't realize he was working so hard. He has seemed so preoccupied lately. I wonder why he didn't just tell me. After all I've been saying to him? Girl, I almost feel bad, getting on him the way I have been. Millions? Why didn't he tell me?”

“Maybe he wanted to surprise you.” Cherisse beamed. Her plate was still untouched. “Girl, I've been trying to tell you that Anthony really is a good man. You were worried about nothing.”

“I guess Anthony's been taking care of business all this time and just not letting on. Why didn't he tell me? Millions…”

Terri sat speechless for a moment, listening to the endless chatter and clinking glasses around her. A pianist was thumbing quiet jazz notes near an exit leading to the courtyard. Slowly, like a cloud easing its way past the midday sun, the look of confusion and shock left her face.

“Waiter, can I have a bottle of your best wine now, please, along with a new plate of pasta primavera. Make that two new plates.” She grinned at Cherisse, ignoring the snarls and raised eyebrows from the patrons the waiter was currently serving. “Girl, I'm about to ask that piano man to play my new favorite song, ‘We're in the Money.’] Both of them laughed loudly, singing the catchy chorus, complete with snapping fingers, stomping feet, and lots of giggles.

“Terri”—Cherisse checked her watch—“it's two o'clock. Anthony should be getting that check in his hand right about now.”

“Have a seat, Mr. Murdock.” Garfield Haberstick mumbled. “You have perfect timing.” His eyes never left his desk as he fumbled through some papers in front of him. Anthony sat down, praying for strength and wisdom to deal with whatever was coming next. Silence filled the room for a while as Mr. Haberstick continued flipping through the pages on top of his desk. Without looking up, he placed a sealed brown envelope in front of Anthony.

“Inside that envelope,” he began, still fumbling with his desk, “you'll find a check for two million dollars. It's a charitable donation to the fund you are about to found called the Black Entrepreneurs Alliance. Now, I know what you are thinking. Two million dollars is a generous gift for your brand-new organization.” Haberstick looked Anthony directly in the eyes. “I could have taken the money for myself, but you, Mr. Murdock, are a man of great influence. You of all people know that money is meant to be shared.”

Mr. Haberstick slid away from his desk as he talked. He stood and faced the window, his hands folded behind his back as he continued.

“I'm sure you're wondering why I am so enthusiastic about your new foundation. Why would I be so interested in the black businessman's affairs?” Mr. Haberstick turned to face Anthony, a smile forming on his face. “Well, in this day of cultural diversity and political correctness, I've decided to invest my time and talents in upholding the tenets of equal opportunity and diversity in the workplace.”

He paused for a second as a slight frown took over his face. “Personally, I could care less whether you're black or white or pink or blue.” A grin quickly reformed. “As long as you have some green, I'm willing to do business with you.”

Mr. Haberstick hobbled back to his desk and pulled out a leather portfolio. “I have in my hands the future of Haberstick Associates. We have been offered the opportunity to serve as the personal marketing firm to several businesses that will be started by the members of the Black Entrepreneurs Alliance. All of these businesses are separate, but related—a fact that the general public does not need to know.”

Mr. Haberstick relaxed in his chair. “I was excited when I was first approached about this opportunity because major”—Haberstick leaned forward in his chair—“I mean,
major,
money is involved in this deal. I actually wondered why Haberstick Associates was chosen for this incredible arrangement. I thought to myself, maybe it's the no-nonsense reputation I hold in this field, or maybe my stubborn attention to profit-making. I thought maybe the business community had finally taken notice of my humble efforts at success.”

The smile faded. “It turns out I was wrong on all accounts. But I'm not bitter.” Another smile began to form. “Haberstick Associates was picked because of you. You take this check and start the foundation, and I become something I've always wanted to be: a ridiculously wealthy man.”

Anthony, who had never reached for the envelope, broke his silence. “I don't understand. What does any of this have to do with me?”

Mr. Haberstick chuckled. “Property acquisition is in the works for the new and upcoming businesses underneath the umbrella of your foundation. The ideal location has been determined to be along the Stonymill light rail expansion project. However, the real estate chosen for the projects conflicts with the plans of a group known as CASH. You are familiar with them, the Citizens' Alliance of Shepherd Hills, are you not, Mr. Murdock?”

Mr. Haberstick's smile never left. Anthony felt a pit open in his stomach.
Please, Lord, not again. I'm still trying to clean up everything from the first go-around.

“Yes, you remember them. They lost their first battle when the railroad was approved. However, it appears that they are regrouping and willing to put up an even bigger fight with our current plans. From what I hear, a bill is soon to be introduced in city hall that will allow CASH to claim our newfound property.”

Haberstick's smile broadened as he softly patted the check. “Of course, Mr. Murdock, as president of your foundation, you can ‘talk’] to some of our fine politicians and introduce some new and better ‘bills’] to them. Bills that will help finance the businesses of your organization. Businesses that my company will solely represent.”

Anthony swallowed hard. “With all due respect, Mr. Haberstick, I'm not really interested in participating in any part of this.”

“You don't understand, Anthony.” Mr. Haberstick's voice grew softer. “I'm not
asking
you. A lot is at stake here. Too many people have put great energy, planning, and effort into this to simply stand back and watch it disappear. We are talking about dreams, hopes, aspirations—” Haberstick turned his chair toward the window. “…profits.”

A long pause stretched between them before Haberstick spoke again. “Anthony, believe me, I understand your hesitation, but you must understand that this affects all of us.”

Mr. Haberstick turned to face Anthony again, a quiet smile overshadowing his aged features as he rested his fingertips together. “I'm sure you desire positive outcomes, not negative ones. We are all in the rat race together. And what are we racing for? Power. The power to hold the keys to open and close doors for everyone else. Right now, Anthony, you hold the keys—the keys of power, the keys of persuasion, the keys of politics. Right there in front of you.” Mr. Haberstick beckoned to the sealed check in front of Anthony.

“Take that key”—he pointed to the check—“and use it to open the doors for all of us.”

Anthony eyed the envelope. “Where did this money come from?”

“That's not important. What is important is where it is going. As founder and president of the Black Entrepreneurs Alliance, you have the right to determine the best way to spend this tremendously liberal donation.”