Relentless (8 page)

By the time Maxwell reached his office, ideas had pounded his brain to the point where he needed Sonya to jot down notes before he exploded. Initially he'd become fueled with animosity sitting in Jones's office, but Maxwell's style wasn't to lash out in an emotional tirade. Only inept fools acted that way. He removed his suit coat. Maxwell preferred waging war on the battlefield where he was most familiar with the terrain—the courtroom. That's where he was going to duel with Jones. Best part about it was that Jones was so arrogant, he didn't suspect the attack which was about to be unleashed. Inspired, Maxwell hustled to his paralegal's desk. He had to get comfortable; the day would be long.

“Sonya,” he said standing in front of her desk with his electronic pad neatly tucked under one arm. “How late can you stay tonight?”

“As long as you need.”

“Good, because it's going to be a late one,” he told her practically oozing enthusiasm.

“What happened with you?”

“What do you mean?” he asked pressing one knuckle into her desk and grinning.

“That look on your face? You seem, oh I don't know, really happy.”

“It's a good day. I had a very productive meeting with Bishop Jones from Greater Metropolitan.”

“Really?”

“Yup, it went very well. That's all I can say,” he told her. “Look, I need you to take a few more notes for me and then let me know when Garrett arrives. Clear my schedule this afternoon. I'll be tied up for a while.”

“Don't forget your deposition with Ms. Carmichael on the sexual harassment case.”

“That's right,” he said pushing his forefinger into his temple and thinking for a minute. It was important but Greater Metropolitan was more important. He'd been chomping for a break, anything to let him get the door cracked wide enough to find dirt and build a case. His instinct said there was more going on with the property deeds. He was too charged to deviate for the deposition. “Call the opposing counsel and get a new date.”

“But what do I tell them?”

“Whatever you want, so long as they reschedule and get me freed up this afternoon.”

“Okay, I'll call and tell them you had an emergency and can't make it.”

“Great, that's why you're on my team. You know what to do without asking me,” he said sailing into his office. “Call Ms. Carmichael too and then come on in to take these notes,” he told her.

Sonya had seen the gleam in his eye a countless number of times in the past. Seven years of working closely with Maxwell Montgomery as an assistant and paralegal had enabled her to read the signs. Whatever happened in the meeting this morning wasn't good for Bishop Jones. She knew that much without having a single detail about the actual conversation. She'd seen Maxwell's jovial reaction on numerous occasions but never quite this giddy. Her flesh wanted to discount the obvious. But, common sense said to get prepared. As a member of Greater Metropolitan, she better find another church. No question about it, if Greater Metropolitan was on Maxwell Montgomery's list, they were going down and she wanted off the
Titanic
as soon as possible. She made the calls and headed to her boss's office saddened by the pending news that her pastor and church would soon be in big trouble. She wasn't aware of the proposed infractions but it had to be huge for Maxwell to be this pleased.

“Are we all set with the deposition?” he asked as she entered his office.

“Yes, sir, I have you rescheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”

“Yikes, I should have told you to push it back to next week.”

“Your calendar had a few free spots, so I took it.”

“I know, don't worry about it. It's fine. I'll go tomorrow. I'm sure I'll be tied up for the rest of this week, but it's okay. We'll get it done. Now,” he said motioning for her to join him at the conference table. “I need you to jot down a few notes for me.”

“I'm ready.” She pushed the lid on her laptop open.

“Knock, knock,” Garrett said appearing at the office door, which was slightly open.

“Come on in,” Maxwell said, beckoning him toward the table. “Sonya, do you mind? I need to speak with Garrett.”

“What about the notes you wanted me to take?”

“Ah, don't worry about those. I'll catch up with you later.”

“As you wish,” she said packing up her laptop.

“And hold all my calls. I don't care who it is. I don't want to be disturbed.”

Sonya closed the door behind her.

“Have a seat,” Maxwell told Garrett.

“So, what's up? I rushed right over. You must be on to something big. What is it?”

“Bishop Jones and Greater Metropolitan,” he belted slapping his hand on the table.

“What?”

“We may have a nugget,” Maxwell said barely able to contain his glee.

Garrett sat up in his seat. “You got my attention, shoot.”

“I went to see the bishop this morning. While I was there, I happened to see a stack of property deeds and a few other real estate documents.”

“Hmm, that's odd seeing that they're not a holding company. What would they need with deeds?”

“Exactly what I was thinking,” Maxwell said rearing back in his seat with his fingers locked behind his head. “What would a church do with property deeds unless they are expanding or maybe supplying housing for the congregation? A few deeds wouldn't have caught my attention, but I'm talking about a thick stack.” Maxwell raised his hand eleven or twelve inches above the table. “Do they have that kind of money?”

“Seems odd,” Garrett said.

“Oh, I forgot the key detail. Councilman Chambers was weaseling from the bishop's office when I arrived. He seemed awfully cagey.”

“Well, he's a cagey man,” Garrett said sparking humor between the two.

“True but there's more to it. Before I left, I overheard the bishop having a heated conversation with the councilman about a deal that had gone bad.”

“What kind of deal?”

“That I didn't hear, but if it's with Chambers, we can suspect there's fraudulent activity involved. As a matter of fact, I'm counting on him to stay true to his reputation.” Maxwell rubbed his palms together.

“There are a lot of rumors and accusations floating around out there about the councilman.”

“Too much for a squeaky-clean ministry to be cutting deals with,” Maxwell stated.

“To my knowledge he's never been charged with an actual crime. He's been able to weasel out of each situation he's found himself in,” Garrett echoed.

“Huh, the councilman might not have been charged with a crime, but we both know it doesn't mean he's innocent. Oh, he's guilty,” Maxwell said tapping his fingers on the table. “We just have to find out what he's guilty of.”

“You've definitely piqued my curiosity; wonder what's going on,” Garrett said.

“That's what we have to find out. That's why you're here. If there are skeletons lurking in the bishop's real estate closet, I have no doubt you will find them.”

“I'll see what I can do.”

Maxwell peered at Garrett. “I'm counting on you to get what I need.”

“There's another case I'm working on, but it's wrapping up soon.”

“Whatever you're working on, cancel it. Make this your top priority. You know I'm good for the money; double your rate if you'd like. I don't care. I just don't want to lose our momentum. We're on to something and I can tell it's going to be big, real big. Can I count on you?”

Garrett gave a thumbs-up gesture. “I'm on it.”

“Just what I want to hear,” Maxwell said and relaxed in his seat. Finally, he would get the retribution he and his family deserved. The sweet taste of justice lingered on his lips long after Garrett was gone.

 

 

Sonya didn't rush into her boss's office, but the suspense was unbearable and equally alarming. She could ignore the inevitable, write out her check for tithes and offering, go to church on Sunday like usual and pretend that her Greater Metropolitan world was the same last week as this one. The bishop along with the rest of the congregation believed so, but she knew better. Even if she wanted to pretend, the reality wouldn't allow her. Maxwell Montgomery never wasted his time. She had to find another home. Five churches in seven years should have soured her on religion, but it hadn't. God was at one of the ministries in Philadelphia. She just had to find Him.

Maxwell came out of his office.

“Are you ready for me to take those notes now?”

“Oh, don't worry about it,” he told her. “I was able to take my own in the meeting with Garrett.”

“So, you're working on a big case.”

“Probably the biggest I've ever done. That's what I'm hoping.”

Sonya wanted to push for a little more information to confirm her fear. “Is it with Greater Metropolitan?”

“Why? How much do you know about them?” he asked.

She clammed up, unwilling to let him know her affiliation with the ministry. She needed her job and wasn't about to get on his attack list. “It's the biggest mega church in the area. Everybody in Philadelphia knows about Greater Metropolitan.”

“Right,” Maxwell said letting his gaze wander.

She could only imagine what was on his mind. “Did the bishop do something illegal?”

“Let's say I've acquired a special affinity to the church,” he said too smug for her to feel comfortable.

“Well, let me know if I can help with the case.”

“It's not a case yet,” he stated with an eerie tone of seriousness. “We are only investigating a hunch, no more, no less.” He prepared to return to his office, then turned to her and said, “Sonya, remember you have a confidentiality agreement.”

“I remember,” she answered wondering why he felt the need to remind her. He hadn't done that in the past. Worry swooped in causing her to fidget and stumble over her words. “I never talk about the work I do for you with anyone.”

“Good. I knew that, but as an attorney I had to point it out.”

“If you want, I can sign another confidentiality agreement. I don't mind at all.”

“No, your loyalty is a good enough contract for me.”

When Sonya was alone, she contemplated Maxwell's comment. She didn't have to sign another agreement but might as well have. The fact that he emphasized how important secrecy was going to be with Greater Metropolitan had her terrified. She couldn't end her membership fast enough. Going to church on Sunday to turn in her letter of departure and to say her good-byes wasn't going to work. She couldn't take the risk of running into her boss at the church during his investigation. She needed another plan. Perhaps she'd mail the letter. On second thought, she wasn't mailing, calling, or contacting the church in any way. God would just have to forgive her for church hopping, but until certain ministries got their acts together, she had to stay a step ahead of her boss.

Feeling a sense of hope now that she had a plan, Sonya typed in Faith Temple on the laptop searching for an address. Pastor Harris's church had a good reputation. She'd go there Sunday and start a new quest for a church home now that Greater Metropolitan was in front of the firing squad. She felt a twinge of sadness. Death of the ministry was closer than they realized.

Bishop yawned unable to resist the exhaustion overtaking him. This was a shame, he thought, having to come in at midnight. He couldn't wait to get the neighborhood expansion project constructed, paid in full, and off his mind. Helping his grandson get straightened out and others like him kept the bishop going. However, the financial burden was more than he expected, and it began chipping away at his sanity. Where was the rest of the money coming from? Help definitely wasn't coming from the church's budget. Those were separate funds. The constant worry kept him stressed. Bishop had to figure something out.

He trotted down the hallway leading to his office, wanting to get in, take care of business, and get home. He envisioned laying his head on the soft pillow, next to his wife of thirty-eight years. He'd hustle, grab the recent real estate papers, and be gone in less than fifteen minutes. He yawned again, reinforcing his determination to cut the trip as short as possible. Halfway down the hallway, the bishop stopped in mid-step. He heard a faint noise coming from the education wing. He stayed frozen listening for the noise again. Who could be breaking into God's house? Wisdom said get out of the building, call 911, and wait in the car.
No,
he decided. As head of the church and a man of God, he was fully prepared to stare evil down. His steps quickened the closer he got to the voices. Fear had fallen away about ten steps ago. He was ready for combat with the villains. He could hear voices strengthening as he got closer to the classrooms.

“Do your part and don't worry about the rest. That's my business,” he heard a woman say.

“Speaking of business, let's finish ours. It's late and I need to get home. Tax season has been over for months, so I can't keep telling my wife the lie that I'm getting the church books in order,” he heard coming from a male voice.

“Women are a lot smarter than you think. She knows what's going on,” Bishop heard a woman say.

“How can you be so sure?”

“I just know what women know, okay?”

“Well, she better not find out, and she definitely better not hear anything from you. Give me the package so I can get out of here,” the man said, that time sounding very familiar.

The voices were completely clear. By the time Bishop made his trek down the hallway, his fear had completely transformed into authority. Whoever was in the church without permission was going to get chastised.

Finally reaching the doorway, he leaned one hand against the frame and caught a breath. At sixty-five, walks weren't as easy as they'd been in his twenties. Much had transpired in the past four decades; age taking over had been one. Bishop poked his head into the nursery and his back stiffened. He cleared his throat, very loudly, making it impossible not to hear him.

“Oh, uh, excuse me, Bishop,” Simmons said, stumbling over both his words and shoes. A bunch of pills spilled from a bag the woman was holding. There were different shapes: some large, others small, yellow, white, blue. There appeared to be every other color in the crayon box represented.

“Minister Simmons, what in tarnation are you doing in here?” he asked as the woman scrambled gathering the pills. She snatched up a jumbo freezer-sized bag full of pills and shoved them into her large purse. Bishop didn't recognize her. She could have been a member but with over 5,000 people in any given service, admittedly he didn't know everyone personally.

“Bishop, I can explain.”

“I'm sure you can and you will.” He turned to the young lady. “Excuse me, miss, do you mind leaving us alone?”

She grabbed her sweater and purse, and quickly said, “I'm out of here.”

“It's late; do you want one of us to walk you to your car?” Bishop asked.

“I don't have a car,” she said moving toward the door. He didn't have to beg her to get out. She was practically gone before he could say anything.

“We can't let you walk out of here in the middle of the night without an escort.”

“Ah, she'll be okay,” Simmons uttered.

“You're right, yes, I will,” she agreed clutching the purse tightly.

“I don't feel right and Minister Simmons, you shouldn't either.” Before Bishop could say another word, the woman burst out the doorway, ran down the hallway, and out the door. Bishop's sense of decency wanted to run after her but his tired body wasn't remotely considering the possibility.

With the woman gone and anger gripping him, Bishop reverted to his new associate pastor. “What were you doing in here?”

Minister Simmons didn't readily speak up which instantly upset Bishop. “I know you hear me; speak up.”

The minister took a seat and stared at his feet, unwilling or unable to look up. “Her name is Jill Smith. She's a friend of mine.”

“Am I supposed to believe you?” Bishop hesitated before responding. He'd worked tirelessly for decades building a leading mega church. Reflecting on past years, sacrifices had been great and challenges too numerous to count. He was on the downside of his days as a pastor and every day counted. He was so close to realizing his dream of building up Greater Metropolitan and solidifying his legacy. No sideshows were going to derail his plans. “What was she doing with so much medicine? And don't lie to me in the Lord's house.” Minister Simmons didn't answer immediately causing Bishop to get agitated. “Did you hear me, Minister? What was she doing with that big bag of pills? What was she doing here, period, at midnight with a married leader in my church? And, Minister, before you say anything, it had better be a good answer, one that will keep you on staff at this church.”

Minister Simmons rubbed his hands together refusing to make eye contact. That was okay with Bishop so long as Simmons started talking in the next few seconds and could explain his actions. The mere notion of a leader defiling his church was crazy, not possible. Simmons couldn't be that stupid. Mistakes were permitted by his staff, but marriage had to be honored and indiscretions were off-limits. He totally respected the institution and everyone in his circle had better do the same.

The silence was finally broken. “Jill and I have a special friendship.”

“Are you involved with that woman?” Simmons looked away. “Man, don't make me have to ask you again.”

“No, not really,” the minister stammered.

“Oh come on, Minister, do you think I'm a fool?”

“Okay, I admit that we slipped once but never in the church. It was somewhere else.”

“And that makes all the difference I suppose?”

“To me it does.”

Bishop chuckled to cool his scorching disdain. “What was she doing here?”

“Just talking.”

Bishop glanced at his watch. “It's twelve forty-five in the morning. Don't play games with me, Minister. What are you trying to say? Because I need to get home. What was Ms. Smith doing with the bag of pills?”

“Those are mine.”

Bishop wasn't prepared for his answer. By the size of his bag, Minister Simmons must have been suffering a mountain of ailments. “I didn't know you were sick.”

“I'm not.”

Bishop was admittedly confused and annoyed. “Then what are you doing with the medicine, and if it's yours, why did Jill run off with it?”

Simmons stopped prolonging the inquisition. He came straight out with more than Bishop was equipped to hear. “She sells the prescription drugs for me.”

“What! I know you aren't selling drugs in the church? Are you crazy? If you get caught, this ministry will be shut down. Do you understand you're putting the entire ministry in jeopardy? And for what, so you can make a few dollars? Shame on you,” Bishop said, leaning against the door for support.

“It's a lot more than a few, more like three thousand.”

“Money can't buy your soul the peace it craves.”

“Maybe not,” Simmons said with his head lifted up and squint locked into Bishop's. “But, the money certainly helps.”

It was difficult for Bishop Jones to listen to Minister Simmons and remain calm. He hadn't labored for decades to watch his ministry be crushed by a greedy, misguided soul. A single snake brought down the Garden of Eden, but the bishop and Greater Metropolitan weren't going to be deceived. “I could have given you an extra three thousand dollars at the end of the year if it will help you out.”

“I meant three thousand a week.”

Bishop Jones gulped quickly doing the math in his head. “That's over a hundred and fifty thousand for the year. Is that what you're telling me?”

“Yep, tax free, and that's with me keeping this on a small scale.”

“Where do you get these pills? Are you robbing pharmacies, too?”

“Oh heavens no,” Simmons responded emphatically. “I have a friend who's a warehouse distribution manager at a pharmaceutical company in Jersey. I get the pills from him and pass them to Jill. She takes them to my five buyers, or as I prefer to call them, traveling pharmacists.”

Surprisingly, it didn't sound complicated to Bishop. He was intrigued. “How long has this been going on?”

“Five months.”

“That's what, fifty or sixty thousand dollars?”

“About that much,” Simmons replied shaking his head up and down. “I'll have you know that I did right by the church. I paid my tithes and offering on every dime I've earned.”

“And so what?” Bishop Jones asked hunching his shoulders. “That makes it right?”

Simmons let his gaze drop to the floor. “Not saying it's one hundred percent right, but I'm doing the best I can. I'm not ashamed to admit my finances were drowning. I was close to bankruptcy. I needed this money to dig my way out and to take care of my family. Fault me if you want, but I needed a miracle and there it was.”

The bishop was thinking heavily. How could he ignore the financial help being shoved in his face? He needed a miracle too. Perhaps he'd been too aggressive with the expansion project. Perhaps the project was in order, and it was his faith in question. Perhaps this, perhaps that. Reality was that the expansion project was struggling financially, but he couldn't dare tell the deacons. He'd always led the congregation to bigger and better accomplishments. He couldn't dare fail them now, not after forty years in the ministry. Maybe this money was a solution to his problems. There was no need to ask God for money again. Why ask a question if the person already knew the answer and didn't want to hear it? God had never given him confirmation about doing the project from the beginning. Bishop had been on his own all along, which meant he had to make it happen without God's anointing. Hadn't been simple, but he was staying afloat. How could he ignore this lifeline? Desperation gripped him.

“Father, oh, Father,” he wailed as Minister Simmons went silent. Bishop Jones felt a surge of energy gush through his weary body being fueled by both his anger with Simmons and curiosity about the drugs. He turned his back to the minister and shoved his hands down into his pants pockets. Moving slowly toward the door, he appraised the room. Flat-screen computers, a smart board for lecturing on each wall, fiberglass desks, towering bookshelves filled to capacity, and plush carpet which swallowed up his shoes with each step. The church had started and finished great things. The expansion project would be no different. It too would be completed.

The bishop pivoted his body half facing Minister Simmons. “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?” Simmons questioned.

“To my office. We're going to talk more about this drug thing.”

“Bishop, I'm tired. I should probably get home to my wife.”

The bishop jerked his hands from his pockets and turned fully facing Minister Simmons. “You should have thought about your wife sooner. It's too late now, because we're talking this thing out tonight.”

Simmons lifted both hands with his palms facing up. He surrendered to the bishop's demand and followed him in silence.