The Devil Made Me Do It (19 page)

Esther sat in her office and stretched her arms over her head and wished for more hours in a day. She was whipped. Between Simone's late-night bombshell and Lawton's missile, she hadn't slept at all. She asked herself how she could save the church, the agency, and herself from the machinations of evil. And then she wondered about the true heart of this deep brother who claims he's seen what God has for him, and it's her. She had to wonder, right now, what could he really do for her?

The beeping of the office intercom signaled an incoming call from Simone.

“Yes, Simone?”

“Lawton is on line one. You all right?”

“Put him through, please,” Esther said in a monotone voice, ignoring her question. She knew none of this was Simone's fault, but dang if she felt like talking to her about it. She was glad Simone told her, and she would protect her privacy from the backlash as much as possible, but that was as much grace as she could muster today.

Lawton's strong voice was calm and soothing. “Hey, sweetheart, I told you I'd be in touch. I'm just checking on you. I want you to know that giving you time to think doesn't mean I'm going to punish myself by not seeing or talking to you.”

“I appreciate the candor, but I'm not the best company right now,” Esther said. Then an inner nudge prompted her to share. She didn't think she could do this alone.

“Maybe I can help. I'd like to be there for you. Whatever it is must have come up after I left you yesterday evening. Am I right?” Lawton said in investigative mode.

“Yes, Dear Watson. How'd you figure that out?”

“Because I might have left you stunned, but you weren't afraid. I hear fear and worry in your voice.”

Esther wanted—no, needed—someone to confide in. She decided to take the risk and trust Lawton with the entire story.
I pray this is the right thing to do.

Thirty minutes later, Lawton whistled when she was through with her tale. “Wow, that's quite a story. Let me make some discreet inquiries with the fraud unit here. In the meantime, sit tight until I call you back. And, baby . . .”

“Yes?” Esther said, hope infused in her response.

“You did the right thing in confiding in me.”

Esther decided to believe that, for once, she could get in the passenger seat and let someone else drive her safely home. It had been a long time since she had believed in happily ever after.

 

 

The morning stretched into late afternoon as Esther watched the clock and her phone. She was anxious to hear back from Lawton.

She bemoaned. “Come on, man, call.” She smiled when her phone rang.

“Ms. Wiley, this is Richard Parker, of the zoning commission, returning your call.”

“Thank you so much. I was calling on the matter of the residential housing program Love Zion Fellowship Church sponsors for families who need assistance. We've received word that the commission wants to rezone the neighborhood and make our families move out. I'm sure, there has been some miscommunication.”

“No. I remember the matter coming before the commission and several area residents complaining about the type of people who are moving into your properties.”

“I cannot understand why, Mr. Parker. The church is very conscientious in the screening of applicants and helps them budget and save so that they can move out and purchase their own home. So far, four families have moved out and purchased homes in nearby neighborhoods. Not only is the program good for them, but it is also good for the community. Houses once boarded up are now restored and filled with people who are hardworking homeowners. They cherish having their own places. Detroit's once thriving neighborhoods are dying. We're reviving them. How can you close us down?”

Mr. Parker wavered. “Well . . .”

Esther pushed ahead. “Mr. Parker, can I ask you something?”

“Yes, at this point, I think it would be futile to try to stop you,” he said with humor.

“Is there any particular person or entity pushing this move?”
Besides the devil
.

“Now, Ms. Wiley, some zoning business is private.”

Esther huffed. “Yes, but most is a matter of public record. I thought you might help me forego having to look the information up. It would be a shame if it came to light that people had their own agendas for the neighborhood.”

“Lawton said you were feisty!” Mr. Parker said with a chuckle in his voice.

“Lawton? Lawton Redding?” Esther said, astonished.

“Yeah, Lawton and I go way back. We're frat brothers. Frat so nice they had to name us twice.”

“Oh, I see . . . anyway . . .” Esther dragged out the word
anyway
almost as an insult.

“Cold, girl, you cold.”

Esther now knew he was on her side. “My information?”

“Okay, there is a small group of investors who have taken note of the growing possibilities in the neighborhood. You were right when you said your church cleaned it up. You did such a good job that all those old stately but dilapidated homes are about to be bought by this group. Ever heard of gentrification?”

“Yes, but it sounds to me like plain greedification. And if you know what's going on, why don't you stop it?” Esther asked. Lawton's frat brother or not, she had no intention of tipping her hand and letting anyone else know just how much she knew.

“It's already too far gone. Whoever in your group picked those properties, they knew what they were doing. Those are the choicest lots, and that's what the new and improved urban dweller is looking for. The money stakes are high.”

“Noooo,” Esther said, upset at this newest information.

“My sentiments exactly. Let me leave you with some advice. First, you never spoke to me; second, I have, before me, a list of three people who may feel like you do about big business pushing out the working poor, and they have enough power to do something about it; and three, Lawton's a good man. Hold on to him. I'll e-mail you the names from my home e-mail.”

Esther gave him her e-mail address and smiled as she hung up. She looked at her watch and dialed Lawton's cell. “Hey, you, I just heard from Richard Parker. You do good work.”

“Oh, I'm just getting started. I wasn't sure what Richard could do for you, but I remembered who he worked for and thought it was worth a shot. How are you, sweetheart?”

“I'm a little less stressed, but he'll e-mail me the names of some people who might be persuaded to help.”

“Good. I also talked to our fraud unit, and if you come down tomorrow, they've agreed to talk to you. So many people getting scammed these days they almost said no, but a brother gotta little pull. How are you handling work?” Lawton's voice carried genuine concern.

“I know it's not her fault, but I'm not talking to Simone. And if John hadn't called in sick today, I'm not sure what I would say to him. I figure by tomorrow, I can fake the like.”

“Just think of it as your own private acting lesson. You can't let them know what you know, or they'll get rid of the evidence.” In a Mr. T voice he said, “Sit tight, girl. We gon' bust these fools.”

“You are my A team. My hero,” Esther gushed.

“I'm auditioning for becoming your man. Esther, I will always put forth my best effort to take care of you, if you let me,” Lawton said sincerely.

“Now, you have me over here blushing. You should stop all that daytime flirting.”

“Then maybe we ought to do some nighttime courting. The ball is in your court, and it is your serve.”

“Bye, Lawton,” Esther wondered what any of her next moves would be.

“Bye,” Lawton said softly. “A man can always hope.”

It was Sunday, and Esther's previous week had been grueling. Her visit with the fraud unit went well, and after she gave them all of the evidence she and Simone had gathered, they were impressed. They were working with the prosecutor's office and the federal government to gather all the charges because federal Housing Urban Development grant funds were being stolen. Her nerves were frayed some days, just pretending that everything was business as usual, but they had sworn her to silence, so mum was the word.

Esther spent several days catching up with the three contacts Richard Parker had given her. She understood that even when the police caught the thieves in action, the community would still need to be convinced that her tenants were not a threat. She was excited because all but one had sat on community boards with her. Finally, she had meetings scheduled, and she could report back to Briggs. She had been so busy that she hadn't had time to think about him or Lawton. She hadn't even called her mother for her twice-a-week check-in.

She looked in the mirror and adjusted her hat. She was going to church old school today. The deep golden color of the fabric and the chocolate band complemented her gold and brown suit. She pulled the veil across her face, and then adjusted her brown satin gloves. Her chocolate Giuseppe Zanotti pumps clicked as she strutted across her marble tile foyer on the way out the door. She was invigorated by all she had accomplished. At least now she had a plan. She couldn't wait to get to church.

 

 

Esther watched as the parishioners dwindled at the altar. Briggs had blessed the people with God's Word and had finished praying for them. The congregation seemed to be taking to him. As she sat thinking, he gave the benediction.

She had been concerned when, weeks ago, rumors flew back and forth concerning her and Briggs, but God was merciful, and they had died down. Now that Reverend Gregory was gone, the members looked as though they were going to take the high road and help, not hinder, the transition.

Esther hid a yawn behind her hand. Her earlier pep had left her. The past week's endeavors and her long days and nights of preparation were exhausting her. She promised herself a long hot bath and early night. Working in a time bomb atmosphere and keeping up with her church duties was difficult.

Esther greeted her family and friends as she made her way to shake Briggs's hand. “Powerful message . . . you really blessed us today, Pastor Stokes.”

“I'm humbled by your kind words. It's all Him,” Briggs was modest and wearing his position well.

Esther stifled a yawn with her hand. “Excuse me. Yes, He's worthy. I need a little of your time to update you on my progress with the zoning commission. After everyone leaves, do you have about thirty minutes or so?”

Briggs was happy to make time. This issue had been on his mind. “Absolutely. I want to know what's happening, and how I can help. I'll meet you in my office.” Briggs placed his hand on Esther's shoulder in dismissal, turning toward the next person waiting behind her in line.

Esther stood smiling at her dismissal. She could tell that Briggs was embracing his new position. He appeared to be a natural, and he was still young. She wondered what his future would bring.

She turned and noticed Abigail watching their interchange, and she had a knowing smirk on her face. Esther was determined not to be intimidated, so she walked in her direction on her way out. She was just about to sail past her, when Abigail's words froze her in her tracks.

“You may not know it, but you two create quite a picture standing together. I could see sparks of chemistry between you. And, my dear, I believe, where there's smoke, there's fire, and it's the duty of a good citizen like me to sound the alarm,” she said with a threatening glow in her eyes.

It was obvious that Abigail just played church. Esther walked out of the building without responding. Thinking of Abigail's threat, she decided to drive around to the back exit, closer to the church offices. There she used her key to enter the building. There was no one at the front desk, so she went into Briggs's office to wait.

The leather wingback chair was large and inviting. Esther kicked off her pumps, laid her hat on the desk, and before she knew it, her head was nodding.

 

 

“Asleep on the job?” Briggs asked as he hustled into the room and noticed Esther's shoes scattered haphazardly under her stocking' d feet and her eyes closed.

“Hey,” Her voice slurred with sleep. She used her foot to scout around for an errant shoe. “Must be the hours I'm keeping. It's been a hectic week.”

He motioned her to sit back. “Go ahead and relax. We can take a few moments to unwind before talking,” he took off his clerical robe and stepped to the mirror to put on his suit jacket.

He stood in the full-length mirror and adjusted his tie. His charcoal suit hung well on his athletic body, and his black alligator shoes shined. In many ways, he was an old-fashioned man, mirrored in his father's image.

After adjusting his tie, Briggs turned to Esther. “Now you know inquiring minds want to know. How was your date?”

Esther gave a secret smile. “It was good.”

“Good, good? Or so-so good?” Briggs asked as he sat behind his desk.

Esther's smile was no longer secretive. “Good, good.”

Briggs grimaced at her reply.

“Briggs?” Esther's smile turned downward.

“Yes?” he said, concerned with her sudden mood swing.

“Where is your wife?”

Briggs tented his hands on the desk. “It's a complicated story.”

Esther decided not to pry further. “If you need a friend . . .”

He shook his head no. “Thanks, but it's the life I created with my choices. My wife and I see some things differently. I never wanted to make a big splash. I've always been happy if God chose that I would just make a ripple.” He sighed. “Anyway, I plan to go home and straighten everything out.”

For Esther, the last few words of conversation told her more about the state of his marriage than all their other conversations put together.

Briggs sat up tall. “I apologize, and replaying this conversation in my head, maybe I've revealed too much. Please forgive an old friend for dumping my baggage on you.”

Esther waved away his apology. “No, I asked. And I pray it'll all work out for you. Why don't we go over the zoning commission information now?”

Briggs pulled open his iPad. “That's a good idea.”

Abigail listened as the ebb and flow of male and female voices drifted out of the pastor's office. “I knew it. They at it, right in Reverend Gregory's office. For shame, for shame . . .” she whispered. Then Abigail looked up as Deacon Clement came around the corner.

Deacon Clement strode over to her. “Good afternoon, Sister Abigail. You waiting to see Pastor Stokes?”

Abigail pointed her head toward the closed door. “I was, but then I saw Esther Wiley slip in there right before I got here. Been in there awhile too.” She cozied up to the deacon as though he was her coconspirator. “I wonder why she acted like she was leaving the church, and instead, pulled behind the building and came in from this end. Oh well, it's not my affair. Oops, slip of the tongue. I mean, my business.”

Deacon Clement stepped back as though Abigail was contagious. “Sister Abigail, as far as I know, Pastor is a happily married man. Why don't we knock on the door and let them know you're waiting?”

Abigail's face lit up in delight. “A
married
man, you say?”

“Yes, sister, married. And, as a member of the deacon board, I know this is true, because I read his full background report. The man is married. So, please, let this be,” he pleaded.

“Oh my!” she snickered. “Never you mind, now. No need to bother them, they seem . . . well . . . busy. I got things I need to attend to,” she said as her peripheral vision zeroed in on one of the choir members at the end of the hall.

“You have a marvelous day in Christ, Deacon Clement. Oh, yes, and your hair is crooked again. Yoo-hoo, Sister Muriel, may I have a word?” Abigail said as her spindly legs mimicked a fifty-yard dash.

Self-conscious, Deacon Clement looked around and straightened his toupee. He shook his head in amazement. He knew that Abigail intended to sling mud before she even left the church. Sister Muriel was just the first of many who would have their ear bent with her malicious gossip. Yes, phones would be ringing in church folk's cars all up and down the highway. He doubted she would wait for them to get home. Since the invention of the cell phone, Abigail had wrecked more lives than car accidents from the merging lane of the I-75 freeway.

“Lord, help us all,” he sighed as he patted his hair making sure it was in place before he strode away.