A Good Excuse To Be Bad Page 11

“Sorry.” He stopped. “Would you be offended if I had someone bring dinner from the restaurant for the family later?”

  I grinned. “Thank you for asking. We’ll see . . . but for right now, let’s get this thing handled with Ava.”

  “Right. We can exchange particulars once we meet. Good day, Angel.” Then he hung up.

  As long as I had been talking to Elvis, we finally reached our destination.

  Justus turned into the drive that led us to the massive parking garage. “You look better. What did he say?” Justus asked.

  “He’s going to meet us at the jail and bring one of Big Faith’s lawyers with him and Ava’s armor bearer. Before he gets here, can you tell me what’s an armor bearer?”

  “It’s a new term for an assistant. Really, it’s an old term. It goes back to Prince Jonathan and King David in the Bible, but you don’t want to hear that preachy talk. Forgive me.” He smirked. “Anyway, the name is making a comeback in contemporary nondenominational churches.”

  “Okay, Bible Yoda, and so how does this relate to Ava?”

  “Bible Yoda, that’s cute.” He shook his head. “With Ava’s increasing responsibilities at Greater Atlanta, she probably has one or a few devoted to help her fulfill her commitments and commissions.”

  “So, hypothetically, you’re acting as my armor bearer right now?”

  “No,” he chuckled. “I’m acting as your shepherd. I’m here to guide you down the right path, nourish you, and keep you safe.”

  “Well, I’m definitely hungry. We can get breakfast afterward. This Elvis guy owns a restaurant not too far from the jail.”

  “Sounds like a plan.” His focus was on driving my car through this prison maze. “I’m curious. Why do you call Greater Atlanta Church, Big Faith?”

  “It’s easy to remember. Why?”

  He frowned. “I don’t see why changing the name of a church is easy to remember.”

  “It’s easy for me to remember.” I turned to him. “The name has a meaning. Back in the day, I reported on many churches. To help me keep from confusing them, I gave them nicknames that I could remember, not just the name, but the thing about them I didn’t get.”

  “And what don’t you get about your sister’s church?”

  “It’s not so much her church, but what it represents; the notion that the reason bad things happen to good people is because their faith wasn’t big enough.”

  “And you don’t agree?”

  “I think it’s dangerous, particularly with this economy, to say something that might possibly make desperate people question their faith. Bad things happen. I’ve seen it firsthand.”

  “I know,” Justus mumbled.

  I turned toward him. His attention remained on the road. I noticed he was biting his lip.

  “You’ve read my old Sentinel column articles, haven’t you?”

  He shook his head. “Just the ones you wrote about organized religion.”

  “You know, I wrote those articles a long time ago, and I quit the Sentinel soon after.”

  “I do, and I assume the reason why you and Ava don’t get along is because of those articles.”

  “Partly . . . we have a lifetime of resentment between us. The articles merely buttressed one aspect of our disagreements and an episode in my life that I regret.” I slumped back in my seat.

  “Want to talk about that?”

  I shook my head. “Nope, it has nothing to do with what’s going on right now.”

  “But it does shed a light on what’s going on with you. Perhaps those unresolved issues are what’s clouding your judgment now or may give us a clue as to why Ava is willing to sacrifice her freedom rather than expose her church.”

  “Justus, you’re reaching.”

  “Humor me.”

  I scoffed. “Okay, but I don’t want to talk about this anymore or you’ll be fired as my sidekick.”

  He chuckled. “That’s not fair. From what I know about sidekicks, I’m doing a great job.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Someone told you wrong.”

  “No, come on. Think about it. Sidekicks are supposed to be your conscience.”

  “Justus, I’m not Perry Mason, and you are definitely not Della Street.” I referred to my favorite, now-classic television detective series.

  “No, not yet, anyway, but if there ever was a time to get some past troubles off your back, this is the best time. How many people do you know has their pastor chauffeuring them around?”

  The man had a point.

  “Here goes . . .”

  I turned in my seat toward him. I knew he couldn’t look at me and drive, but I wanted to read his body language. If I saw a hint of judgment, then I would end the conversation.

  “When I wrote those articles I was in a bad place in my head. I wasn’t objective. I wasn’t doing my job, and so I quit. But it’s amazing how my past continues to haunt me well after I’ve buried that skeleton way down in the ground. It’s not right.”

  “I like to think that the past releases us once we understand the true meaning of grace. You can’t bury what must be raised.”

  “See. There you go.” I huffed. “I know what grace is. Now, can we move past the preachy talk?”

  “Oh yes. I forgot how you can’t stand the preachy talk.” He veered into the detention center parking area. “Let me complete my thought, then we can end the preachy talk. Okay?”

  I nodded.

  “I don’t doubt that you know what grace is, but I don’t think you understand what it means for you. Knowing and understanding are two different things. If they were the same, there would be need for only one.”

  “Uh-huh. You said the same thing this past Sunday in your sermon.”

  He turned off the ignition. “And yet you still haven’t heard it.”

  “And I’m not today.” I turned away from him. “We were supposed to be talking about getting Ava out of jail and here you are sneaking in a Bible lesson.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “This is what I’m talking about when I said that you couldn’t be my sidekick.”

  “Why can’t I be your sidekick?”

  “You’re not thinking about what I need. You’re trying to shove what you think I need down my throat.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You just did.”

  “I was trying to help you, but you don’t want to be helped.”

  “I don’t want to be judged.”

  “You’re so pigheaded.”

  “And you’re about to be put out of my car, Rev.”

  “Oh, here we go. We’re back to you calling me Rev. You’re . . . you’re—”

  “I’m what?!” I roared.

  He looked over my shoulder. “You’re causing a scene. Everyone on this level is watching us.”

  “So what? I don’t care what anyone here thinks.”

  “That’s obvious.” He looked away from me and lowered his head.

  “Well, at least you’ve finally taken me off that pedestal of yours.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “Aren’t you angry with me?” I asked.

  He shook his head. “No, I’m not angry that I can’t make you soak up my sermons and learn more about our God through them. I am disappointed that you would rather be right than vulnerable with me. I know you’re mourning. I get that, so . . .”

  I watched him for a few seconds. “How am I supposed to return to that?”

  “You’re not. That’s what sidekicks do.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Feel for you.”

  I chuckled. “Thanks for the laugh.”

  He turned to me. “I didn’t mean to.”

  “Well, it was funny and we need to go.”

  “Where?”

  “To the right parking garage.”

  “This is the right parking lot.”

  “No, my sensitive grasshopper. It’s not the one I use when I’m bringing someone in.”

  “Oh, sorry.” He t
urned on the ignition. “Maybe I should have let you drive.”

  “No problem. I’m beginning to like the way you drive. It makes me feel all vulnerable and open to share all the shortcuts, secret entrances, and back alleys I know,” I teased.

  “I’m glad you find me amusing again, but I was serious about what I said earlier.”

  “I know you were.” I checked the time again. “In fact, while we head around the corner to enter the right parking lot, let me ask you something a little more up your alley.”

  “All right.” He began backing the car out of the parking spot.

  “Do you think that someone in Devon’s congregation is trying to frame Ava for his murder?”

  “You think the murderer is a member of his congregation?”

  “That’s the only thing that could justify why Ava is willing to take the fall.”

  “She would sacrifice herself for a member of Greater Atlanta?” He looked at me.

  I looked back. “Isn’t that what shepherds do?”

  13

  Friday, 6:00 AM

  Dekalb County jail parking lot, Decatur, GA

  Justus parked in the parking lot off Camp Circle behind Sheriff ’s Headquarters and the Dekalb County jail. Unfortunately, only parents of arrested minors could accompany detainees, so we couldn’t go inside. But I wanted Ava to know that we were there. I wanted her to know that she wasn’t alone, although I’m sure she was feeling the loneliest she had ever felt.

  We stepped out the car in time to watch the sunrise. Somehow I wasn’t in awe like usual.

  “Look over there.” Justus pointed at a man stepping out of a black Mercedes. He looked just as out of place as we were. “Do you think that’s Elvis?”

  I stepped forward, squinted, did a double take, and then leaned even farther forward.

  “Oh no.” I threw my hands on my hips and dropped my head. “It can’t be.”

  “What’s wrong? It’s not Elvis?”

  “No, it’s Roger Willis, Devon’s attorney.” I pursed my lips. “That man almost got me fired.”

  “For what?”

  “Punching him at a press conference.”

  Justus looked at me.

  “Don’t look at me that way.” I popped my trunk and reached inside. “You would have had to be there to understand.”

  “I bet.”

  I kept a small black duffel bag in there. It housed some of my bounty-hunting disguises. After talking with Justus about my challenges with the job, I didn’t feel so comfortable sharing the contents of my bag with him.

  I pulled out the bag and slammed the trunk. “Let’s go, Justus.”

  Roger approached us with a huge smile; I didn’t smile back. He shook hands with Justus, then extended his arms toward me.

  I played nice and shook his hand back. They were as weak as I remembered.

  “Never in a million years did I think we would meet again, and especially under these circumstances.” He grinned.

  His large eyes, chubby cheeks, and long neck made him resemble a Cheshire cat. Call me prejudiced, but in my opinion, I never trusted Roger Willis. Sure, he was one of the most successful attorneys in the Atlanta Metropolitan area, but he wasn’t folk. He wasn’t family.

  “Well, at least this time we’re on the same side.” Now I sound like the cornball still smiling at me.

  “After I handle things inside, I need to talk to you both about what you saw.”

  “Sure, we’ll wait.”

  “That wouldn’t be a wise idea. I don’t know how long this will take. The best thing for you to do at this point is to go spend some time with your family.”

  “Willis, please.”

  “I’m thinking of your best interest.”

  “Sure you are.” I handed him the duffel bag from my trunk. “Can you take these clothes in with you? I’m sure the clothes that Ava wore here will become evidence, so here’s something better to wear once you’ve brought her out.”

  “Better?” Justus cleared his throat.

  My face flushed. I wouldn’t dare look at him. “Maybe not better, but wearable.”

  Willis checked his watch. “No problem, but I can’t guarantee that she will be released. She may be charged and then we have to bail her out.”

  “I got the bail part down, but I don’t think she will be charged, if you are as convincing as many think you are.”

  “It is highly unlikely that she will not be charged. Come on, Angel. She’s covered in blood with the murder weapon at her foot.”

  “Who told you that?” I raised my voice.

  “You’re not the only one who knows people.”

  “And you’re not the only lawyer in town.”

  Willis’s grin now looked like a facial deformity.

  “Angel,” Justus whispered.

  “What?” I kept my eyes on Roger while he studied Justus.

  “But I’m the one she requested.” He stepped forward, then hesitated. “Look, I’m sorry for what happened back then. Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault.... I mean everyone.”

  “Don’t go there.”

  “Then you stop going there. You have to take the chip off your shoulder if you want to help you sister.” He grunted. “But I don’t think you’re selfless enough to do that.”

  “I want to help her; I want to get her out of here before her children wonder about their parents. Plus, if we don’t get her out today, she’ll be here until Monday the latest.”

  “Don’t you concern yourself with that.” He put his hand on my shoulder. “Angel, I will do everything in my power to get her released as soon as reasonably possible, while you go out there and find me anything I can use to have her out of here, if the DA decides to file a charge. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going inside to find her. Hopefully I can speed things along.”

  “Do you know how long it will be?” I asked.

  “It depends, but I’ll contact you as soon as I know more.”

  Justus handed Attorney Willis his card. “Let Mrs. McArthur know that I’m more than happy to come down here and pray with her.”

  I rolled my neck at Justus.

  He shrugged. “What now?”

  “She’s not going to be in here long enough for anyone to be praying with her,” I said.

  “Right.” Justus returned his attention back to Willis. “Stay in touch.”

  “Wait a minute, Willis.” I looked around the parking lot. “Where’s Elvis Bloom? I thought he was coming with you.”

  Willis’s eyes wondered off toward the sky and he flicked his last limp, overgreased gray hairs on the top of his head to the left with his hands. I chuckled, but I didn’t find anything funny about his gesturing. I’ve seen it from him too many times to count. He was withholding something important from me. He had a ball to drop.

  “Greater Atlanta called an emergency meeting about my sister? Eh?”

  “Nope.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out a stick of gum. “The meeting was planned.”

  I glanced at Justus, then back at Willis. “As of late yesterday, like, I don’t know, soon after my sister took the kids to my house?”

  “Leave it be, Angel.” Willis began to chew. “I don’t want you wrecking things.”

  “Wrecking them how?”

  Willis lifted his chin toward Justus. “It’s too early in the morning to cast stones.”

  “Then don’t and just tell me the truth. The pastor can handle it.” I didn’t look at Justus for confirmation. My blood was boiling, so I didn’t care what he thought.

  “The church is concerned that Ava’s reunion with you had something to do with the tragedy that happened last night.”

  Justus stepped forward. “That’s absurd and you can’t prove it.”

  “Don’t have to. Her past history with the McArthurs is enough to warrant the concern, and I have it on a hunch that the detective on this case hadn’t entirely ruled Angel out as a person of interest.”

  “What gives you the right—?”

>   “I’m Avalyn McArthur’s lawyer¸ which gives me the right.” Willis peered at him under his glasses.

  “Hold on, Willis. Does that mean the church won’t help her as long as I’m around?”

  He smirked. “Why do you insist on asking me questions you already know the answers to, Evangeline? I never understood that about you.”

  “But I’m trying to help her. I’m looking for Devon’s real killer. I’m trying to get her out of jail for good.

  “Angel, the only thing you can do well is take a person back to jail, not keep someone out.”

  “What did you just say?” Justus asked. His voice had grown louder than before. I could see officers stopping to hear our matter.

  “Calm down.” I touched his arm. “It’s fine . . . Justus, it’s fine.”

  He clutched both of my arms. “No, it’s not fine. This is not right.”

  The expression on his face made me tremble.

  He paused. He took his hand off me carefully, as if I would break, and turned to Willis. “This will not stand.”

  “Evangeline, ask yourself this question. What’s more important, Ava’s emancipation or your chance at redemption?” Willis eyed me. “Let me throw you a hint. Too many people, including your sister, believe you’re incorrigible.”

  “This isn’t the first time I heard that tonight.” I glanced at Justus.

  Justus sighed and put his hands in his pockets.

  “Willis, the kids are with me, so I can’t entirely disappear from Ava’s life. That would hurt the children.”

  “We’re aware of that.” He spoke to me as if I was interviewing him on the record, no personality or soul in his voice.

  “Are they aware that I have changed?”

  “That’s still up in the air, and thus the cause for concern.” Willis continued, “If you want our help and unless you plan to join her inside, play the reformed sister role perfectly. That includes you staying out of the limelight, especially at the Sentinel. You understand?”

  My heart fell. “I understand. I’ll leave Ava’s innocence in your hands.”

  “That’s a start,” Willis said.

  “No, Angel. Don’t listen to him,” Justus whispered. “You can’t give up because of what he said. He doesn’t speak for the entire church.”

  “Oh, but I do.” He checked his watch. “I have to go now. Elvis has been informed to contact you once the meeting is over. He’ll more than likely help your family coordinate final arrangements for Bishop McArthur.”