The Choir Director 2 (24 page)

I stayed outside of the office building in Queens, waiting to see what would happen next. Would the church secretary and her girlfriend come out alone, or would Jackson be with them? If the three of them were together, I would definitely be following them. I needed to gather as much information as possible to put the pieces of the puzzle together. In light of what Bentley had told me, this guy was likely an imposter, and I needed to know what was driving his game. Why was he consistently sticking his nose in church matters, always with the outcome of broken relationships? Dude was definitely up to something. I just had to figure out what it was.

To satisfy any lingering doubt, I picked up my phone and had Siri find the number for the Johnson Morris Endeavor agency in Manhattan.

A professional-sounding secretary picked up on the first ring. “Johnson Morris Endeavor. How may I direct your call?”

“Can I please speak to Jackson Young?” I said.

“I'm sorry. Mr. Young works out of our Los Angeles office. I can give you the direct number and his extension if you'd like.”

“Thank you. That would be great. Oh, and can I have the number to your Queens, New York, satellite office too?”

“Sir, I'm sorry, but we don't have a Queens office.”

I hung up the phone, satisfied that I was right. The guy in this building was posing as Jackson Young, and this office building was a front for something else. The first order of business was to get Aaron to destroy the contract he had signed with this fake. I hoped to God that he had read all the fine print. The choir had been winning a few competitions lately, and it would be a shame if this guy had tricked Aaron into signing something that gave away any cash prizes they received.

Unfortunately, Aaron's phone went directly to voice mail again. Next I tried the bishop's number, which rang a few times but also went to voice mail. I put away my phone and turned on the car, pulling away from the curb. I would head to the church to see if either one of them was there.

When I got to the corner, I was shocked to see the bishop's car pass by me, headed in the direction of Jackson's office. What the hell was going on? First the church secretary and now the bishop? I beeped my horn, but he didn't look in my direction. Instead, his attention was focused straight ahead; his face wore an expression of pure anger. Maybe he was putting the pieces together too—at least I hoped that's what was going on.

I circled back around the block, thinking I could catch him before he went in the building. He needed to know what I'd discovered. Maybe we could go in and confront Jackson together.

By the time I returned to the building, it appeared I was too late. I saw the bishop's car parked in the spot I had vacated, but he was nowhere in sight. I decided to find another parking space and go into the office building myself, offer the bishop some backup. It was time to face this fucking pretender and demand some answers.

I pulled into a space and turned off the car. Just as I stepped out onto the sidewalk, I spotted Desiree and her little friend coming out of the building. Unlike before, when they paused to get all lovey-dovey, this time they looked nervously up and down the block like two competitors in the Hunger Games before racing to Desiree's car. Her tires squealed when they took off, obviously in a hurry to put some distance between them and that building. I wasn't sure what the hell was going on in there, but those two sure didn't want any part of it.

As I stood on the sidewalk watching Desiree's car round one corner, I heard another car barreling down the road from the other direction. I turned around to see an NYPD cruiser coming to a screeching halt in front of Jackson's office.

What the fuck was going on?

Two uniformed cops got out of the cruiser and ran into the building. Not long after, a second car arrived, this one an unmarked black sedan. The plainclothes cops from that car, a man and a woman, ran into the building with their guns drawn. This could not be good. All of a sudden, I was concerned for the bishop's safety. Shit had gotten deep in a hurry.

I wanted to race up the stairs behind them, but two more police cars pulled up and more cops ran into the building with their weapons in full view. My instincts as a black man in America kicked in: You do not run behind police with guns drawn unless you want to be shot by those cops.

So, I stood outside the building with a growing crowd of noisy onlookers. The fact that I didn't hear any shots was a small comfort, but I still had no idea what was happening in there. The cop standing near the crowd to keep us at a safe distance was carrying his radio. My heart sank when I heard this transmission: “Cancel the bus and send a meat wagon.” I had watched enough
Law & Order
to know what that meant. They didn't need an ambulance at the scene; they needed the coroner's truck. Someone was dead inside that building.

I started praying silently for the safety of Bishop Wilson. A short time later, my prayers were answered, but not in the way I had hoped. Bishop Wilson came out of the building on his own two feet. He wasn't dead, but he was being escorted by the two plainclothes cops…with his hands cuffed behind his back.

Times like this, the only thing I had was my faith in God. I couldn't quite believe that I was sitting in a police station, my hands chained to a desk. It felt like some bad mid-'80s detective movie, except this was all too real.

I'd invoked my Miranda rights, which meant the police couldn't talk to me until my lawyer was pre­sent. That didn't mean they would stop talking
about
me, though. Every time I glanced up, I'd catch cops staring at me, huddled together in conversation. It wasn't every day that a big-time preacher from the largest black church in the borough was caught holding a murder weapon over a dead body. Considering the number of famous people who attended services at my church, this had to be pretty damn close to a celebrity arrest. The officers were clearly getting a kick out of the drama.

A young black cop walked by the gossiping group, but he didn't join in their laughter. He nodded sadly as he passed by me, and I felt a terrible wave of guilt, like I'd let that man down. I was a well-respected leader in the black community, and it must have been hard for him to see me in this position, so far fallen. Of course, I wasn't guilty of the murder, but he had no way of knowing that. And I was definitely guilty of poor judgment. Until my dying day, I would be trying to understand why I chose to go to Jackson's office instead of just calling the police after Tia's attack. My jealousy and desire for revenge against Jackson Young had turned out to be my own undoing, and now I was truly scared that it might land me behind bars.

“Bishop?”

I looked up to see Keisha Anderson coming toward me. She was a cop, but she was also a member of my church, and I could see the pain in her eyes too. I owed Keisha a lot. If she hadn't been at the murder scene, who knows if I would even be alive at the moment? Before they cuffed me, a couple of the officers seemed hell-bent on roughing me up. I didn't know if it was my elevated status in the community or my race, but they seemed to have it out for me. In their minds I was already guilty without the benefit of a trial. If Keisha hadn't stopped them, I could have been just one more name on a list of detainees abused by the police department.

“Hello, Keisha,” I said, feeling happy to see her and humiliated at the same time.

She looked down at the chains that held me to the desk, giving me an apologetic look. If she didn't know for sure that I was innocent, she definitely wanted to believe it.

“Bishop, we're going to take you down to Central Booking in about ten minutes. Ross Parker would like to have a few words with you, if that's okay.”

This surprised me. I hadn't been given a phone call yet, so how had Ross found me here?

I nodded, and she led me to a small room, where she chained me to another desk.

Ross came in and sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk. Keisha sat at another desk about five feet away, but she looked like she was trying her best to respect our need for privacy by busying herself with paperwork.

“Ross, I didn't do it!” I blurted out.

“I know you didn't do it, Bishop,” he said firmly, and I was flooded with a wave of relief. After being in a room full of people laughing at my predicament, it felt good to know someone had total faith in me.

He leaned in closer and spoke quietly. “Bishop, I was there.”

I looked at him, wide-eyed. “You were there?”

“I always knew there was something wrong with that guy. I was trying to gather information. I wanted proof that I could bring to you and Aaron, instead of some gut feeling.”

I nodded. “I had that same gut feeling. I just wish I had called the police instead of taking matters into my own hands. Look where that got me,” I said, glancing down at my chains.

“You weren't the only one in his office this morning,” Ross said. Keisha shifted in her chair. She didn't look in our direction, but it was clear she was paying attention to everything that was being said.

“Ross, tell me what you saw,” I prodded. His information might hold the key to my freedom. The fact that he had been at the scene at all today felt like divine intervention. What had led him to spy on Jackson on this of all mornings?

“Your secretary was there this morning too, with another woman.”

“You saw Desiree at Jackson Young's office?” I asked. “What was she doing there?”

“First of all, his name is not Jackson Young. The guy is a fake. But I'll tell you about that later. Right now we need to figure out what happened up there and get you out of here.”

I nodded. “So what was Desiree doing there?” I asked again.

He shrugged. “I don't know, but she and her friend flew out of there in a big hurry not long after you went inside.”

This confused me. If they left the building after I went in, how had I not seen them? There were still so many unanswered questions, but I prayed that at the bottom of all of this was the proof of my innocence.

“This woman that she was with—what did she look like?”

He pulled out his phone and opened up his video app. “This is them. I took it this morning when they were going in the building. I couldn't figure out what Desiree would be doing at the office, but I didn't get a good feeling.” He turned the phone to show me the picture. The mystery woman was turned sideways, pressed up against Desiree, but there was no mistaking her.

“That's the woman who attacked Tia last night!” I shouted.

With that, Keisha got up from her desk and approached us. “Ross, I think you need to get the bishop a lawyer. Quick.”

He nodded then looked at me. “Anyone in particular?”

“Call Monique and tell her to get in touch with John Simpkins.”

“You sure?” he asked.

“Yes. He may be an arrogant ass, but he's one of the best attorneys in the business, and right now, he's exactly what I need.”

“Are you going to be all right here, Bishop?”

Keisha said to Ross, “Go take care of that now. I'll make sure the bishop is okay. And here's my number. Call me if anything comes up.”

The rumbling in my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten anything since the night before. Ever since Pippie's funeral, where Ross and I aired our differences, my creative juices had been flowing. It was a relief, because when Tia left me, I was worried that I would never feel inspired to write another song. Now I was finally in the groove again, and I'd been so wrapped up in writing this morning that I hadn't noticed how many hours had gone by. It was past noon and I was suddenly starving. I jotted down a few more notes on the paper and then put everything away in my desk in the choir room.

I decided to stop by the bishop's office to see if he wanted to grab lunch with me. We hadn't talked in a while, and I wanted to check in with him to see how he was holding up in light of his marital issues.

When I got to the church that morning, it was a little before nine, and the place was empty. Strangely, it was now past noon and there was still no one around. Desiree was not at her desk. I knocked on the bishop's door and got no answer, so I peeked my head in his office. It was empty too.

I pulled out my phone, thinking I would try his cell. That's when I saw that a text had come through while I was working on my music. The ringer was turned off, so I hadn't heard the text alert. The name on the screen brought an instant smile to my face. I had begun to think I would never hear from her again, and as much as I'd been trying to pretend I was over her, there was nothing I wanted more than another chance with Tia. This text was the first indication that it might actually be possible.

THINKING OF YOU
, was all it said, but it was enough to send my heart soaring.

I texted back:
SAME HERE. I HOPE YOU ARE WELL
.

I waited a few minutes to see if she would reply. If she did, I would ask her to call me so we could talk in person. I longed to hear her voice. Unlike the way I acted at the funeral, this time I would not demand answers. I would not give her a reason to run away again.

I turned the ringer back on, but unfortunately my phone remained silent. There was no response from Tia. Still, the fact that she had texted at all was a good sign. I chose to remain hopeful that she would be in touch again at some point.

In the meantime, I still needed to get something to eat. I left the bishop's office and headed toward the back exit. Tia's text had made me so happy. I really wanted to talk to someone about it, so I pulled out my phone again to call the bishop. As I stepped outside, I was looking down at the screen and almost ran right into Desiree.

“Oh, hey, Desiree. Sorry about that,” I said. “You just getting here?”

She looked nothing like her usual self. Her makeup was smudged, her hair was messy, and her clothes were so wrinkled they looked like she'd slept in them. Even more unusual, though, was her demeanor. She usually had that sweet, demure Southern-girl thing going on, but now she was stiff, almost robotic.

“Aaron, do you have time to talk?” she muttered. “I have something on my mind.”

To tell you the truth, she was creeping me out a little. The way I was feeling after getting that text, I didn't want anything to bring me down, and I just got the sense that that's exactly what talking to Desiree would do. She looked like she had a lot on her mind, and while it might sound coldhearted, I didn't want to be the one she unloaded on at that moment.

“Um, I was just on my way out to get something to eat,” I said. “Can I stop by your desk when I get back? Once I get some food in my belly, I'll listen to everything you have to say.”

“Oh, no problem.” She wasn't making eye contact with me. Something over my shoulder must have caught her attention, because that's where her eyes were focused as she spoke to me.

“Yeah, so, um, I'll see you later, okay?” I said, and then left her standing there.

I got to my car and hit the remote to unlock the door. I had just reached out for the handle when I heard a click and felt someone approach me fast from behind. Immediately my body tensed up, sensing that I was in danger.

I turned around slowly to see a gun pointed at me. At first I thought it was held by a young boy in baggy jeans and a baseball cap, but then she spoke and I realized it was a woman.

“Don't move,” she said.

Inside I was freaking the fuck out, but I knew that I couldn't show fear. That was one lesson I learned while in prison. Fear was the quickest way to get yourself killed.

“I really don't think you mean to point that at me.” I spoke calmly. I didn't know if this woman was trying to rob me, but I wasn't going to do anything stupid.

“Yes, I do,” she snapped.

I tried another approach. “Young lady, this is the house of the Lord,” I said a little more sternly.

She fixed her face into a scowl. “Like I really give a shit.”

“Here, you can have all of my cash.” I reached into my pocket, opened my wallet, and tried to hand her the money. She knocked it out of my hand onto the ground.

She kept her gun trained on me, but turned her head to the side and spoke loudly. “You want me to do it?”

For a second I didn't know if she was a crazy person talking to herself, but then I heard a familiar voice answer, “Go ahead.”

I felt a searing pain in my skull right before I hit the ground, unconscious.