Chapter 11
Jasmine twisted fitfully on the couch in Gideon’s living room. Her laced Giuseppe Zanotti sandals with six-inch heels rested on the cushions as she squirmed to find the most comfortable position in which to sleep off a night’s worth of crystal meth and Cristal champagne. It was now just after three thirty in the morning, and the house was quiet except for the occasional muted blare of a siren reverberating off the canyon walls below.
Gideon fell into a deep sleep before his head fully rested on the pillow in his bedroom. Even the thought of Samantha Cleaveland’s daughter sleeping in the other room was not enough to keep him awake. He had been too tired to remove his clothes after getting Jasmine settled in and kissing Danny good night at his bedroom door. He lay fully clothed on top of the comforter with his Gucci loafers still snugly on his feet.
Danny was already in his boxer shorts when Gideon and Jasmine arrived. He was now lying wide awake in bed in the guest room down the hall. Parker was curled in a furry ball at his feet, most likely dreaming of the rat in the hillside brush that got away earlier that day.
Danny sighed as he thought of Hezekiah’s daughter sleeping in another part of the house. What would he say to her when she woke? Would he tell her about his relationship with her father? Would she fly into a rage and curse him if she knew of the affair? His instincts begged him to keep silent about his time with her father. What good would it do to tell her? She would be devastated to learn her father was a homosexual, he thought while staring at the ceiling. The first person she’ll tell is Samantha, which will make her even more desperate than she already is.
His desire to share his love for her father battled his instincts. She loved him, and I loved him too. We have something so beautiful in common, he thought. He wanted desperately to speak to someone who understood how easy it was to fall in love with Hezekiah. He wanted to share some of the love they had created together. By doing so, he would somehow immortalize his feelings and elevate them beyond the fading memory he feared they would soon become.
Danny looked at the neon clock on the nightstand. It was 3:37. The city was asleep, and night had enveloped the house like a black cloak draped over a birdcage. He knew sleep would not come and resigned himself to spending the next few hours tossing and obsessing over the young woman in the other room.
What sounded like glass breaking somewhere in the house caused Danny to bolt upright in the bed. His eyes darted to the door, and his ears strained to hear whatever was next to come. The sound was followed by dead silence. He thought it must have been his imagination, and lay back down on the pillow.
“Get a grip on yourself. There’s nothing out there,” he said out loud. “She’s not crazy enough to send someone to kill me here in Gideon’s house. Or is she?”
He knew all too well the answer to that question, and it caused his heart to flutter. She’s crazy enough, and by now desperate enough, to do anything to get rid of me, he thought.
Moments passed, and the house slowly drifted back into the night’s abyss. The glowing green numbers on the clock served as a painful reminder that the night would soon come to an end and he would come face-to-face with his lover’s troubled daughter. The question of whether to confess or not to confess again volleyed back and forth in his mind. Don’t be a fool, he thought. Why would she want to share anything with me? She’s just an angry, troubled kid who lost her father and hates her mother. Why complicate her life any more?
The numbers continued to tick, moving him closer to the inevitable. She might find some comfort in knowing her father was loved by someone when he died. She must have known how much her mother hated him.
As his mind whirled, Danny heard the distinct sound of a footstep on the hardwood floor in the hall outside his bedroom door. Again, he sat up in the bed. He looked at the door handle and saw it was unlocked. There had never been a need to lock the door. He had welcomed the times when Gideon had slipped quietly into the room and had curled up next to him in bed. It never felt intrusive and was always preceded by Gideon saying, “I was lonely in my room by myself. May I sleep in here with you tonight?” And his answer was always, “Yes, I was feeling a little lonely too.”
He prayed it was Gideon this time too. But as the steps slowly passed his door, he knew it wasn’t him. The steps were deliberate, as if the person was trying hard not to be heard. That person was walking in the direction of the master suite at the end of the hall. Danny did not move. His breath caught in his chest and refused to exit his body. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears as blood pulsed through his body.
Again, there was silence in the house. Maybe it’s Jasmine, he thought with eyes focused keenly on the door. But why would she be walking toward Gideon’s room?
His gut told him that it wasn’t Jasmine and that something was terribly wrong in the house. Danny slowly hung his legs off the side of the bed and waited for another sound, but there was none. Seconds passed, and then he slowly made his way to the door and pressed his ear against the wood. Still there was no sound. Danny turned the handle and opened the door just enough to look out. His pounded double time in his chest. There was no one there. He stepped into the dark hallway and looked in both directions before lightly walking toward Gideon’s bedroom.
When he turned the corner leading toward the master bedroom, he saw Gideon’s door was open, which was nothing unusual for a man who lived alone. The door was always open. Danny walked slowly to the door and looked into the room. The view of Gideon’s bed was almost completely blocked by a man wearing a black leather jacket and black pants. His arms were raised directly in front of him, and he was looking at Gideon’s sleeping body on the bed.
Without thinking, Danny lunged forward and in a flash had his arms around the man’s neck.
“Gideon!” Danny yelled. “Wake up!”
As he gripped the man’s neck with his forearms and forced his body forward, Danny heard a gunshot. The large man and Danny landed on Gideon, the full weight of both their bodies bearing down on him.
“What the . . .” were the first words out of Gideon’s mouth when he awoke and realized there were two men wrestling on top of him.
“Gideon, he’s got a gun!” Danny yelled as the man hit him full force on the jaw with a fist that felt like a sledgehammer.
Gideon wiggled out from beneath the two of them and forcefully pulled the black-clad intruder away from Danny. Both Gideon and the intruder landed with a thud on the dresser, sending a lamp, framed photographs of Gideon, and a crystal vase crashing to the floor. The nightstand was kicked over by Gideon’s feet, causing another lamp and the clock radio to crash against the wall and tumble to the carpet. Books from shelves, a Bose sound system, and racks of CDs came cascading down on them as they thrashed, punched, and kicked.
Danny immediately regrouped and dashed toward the two of them, who were now wrestling violently on the carpet. Danny could see the man was still clutching the gun, and he took a flying leap at him.
“Watch out, Gideon!” Danny yelled in midair. “He’s still got a gun.”
When Danny landed on Gideon and the man, he heard a second gunshot. The sound echoed in his head and caused him to flash back to the night in Griffith Park when Samantha tried to have him killed. The muscular contours of the intruder’s body and the smell of his musky cologne made Danny suddenly realize that the man lying motionless under him was the same dark figure he had wrestled with on that fateful night in the parking lot.
The three lay still. Danny could feel someone’s chest beneath him rise and fall, but he couldn’t tell who it belonged to. When he finally opened his eyes, he found himself looking over the shoulder of the black-clad man and into Gideon’s panting face.
“Take the gun from his hand, Danny,” Gideon said softly, as if not to wake the sleeping man lying on top of him.
Danny rolled off the two, who were stacked like dominos, and quickly snatch the gun from between their bodies. He tossed it across the room, to the opposite side of the bed, as if it were burning the palm of his hand.
“Get him off me, Danny,” Gideon gasped. “I can’t breathe.”
With one full-body tug Danny pulled the intruder off Gideon and onto his back in the midst of jumbled CDs, books, and shattered bric-a-brac.
Gideon struggled to Danny’s side and let out a series of desperate coughs and gasps. “Are you all right, Danny?” he asked through frantic breaths.
Gideon’s shirt was covered in blood. Danny rushed to him and said, “You’ve been shot! Oh God, he shot you!”
“No, I’m okay,” Gideon said, pulling Danny to his heaving chest. “He shot himself. I think he’s dead.”
When he said the words, a bloodcurdling scream filled the room.
Jasmine was standing in the doorway, hysterical. She covered her mouth with trembling hands and screamed again and again.
Gideon and Danny immediately scrambled to their feet and darted toward the screaming girl. Gideon tripped over the man’s body as he dashed toward Jasmine.
“Stay away from me!” she screamed and ran into the dark hallway. Gideon and Danny followed closely behind as she ran frantically through the living room and into the foyer to the front door.
“Jasmine, wait!” Gideon called out behind her. “Honey, please everything is all right. You’re safe.”
“Stay the fuck away from me!” she said, frantically groping for the front door handle. “I’m going to call the police.”
Danny dashed into foyer just behind Gideon, and they each grabbed her thrashing shoulders and tried to hold her steady.
“Jasmine, you are safe,” Danny said, holding her close. “Everything is all right now. Calm down. We have to call the police.”
Jasmine was hysterical as she tried desperately to break free from the two men preventing her from leaving the strange house. “Let me go!” she demanded. “Who the fuck are you? Let me go!”
“Jasmine,” Danny said, forcefully shaking her shoulders. “Listen to me, Jasmine. My name is Danny St. John. I was a very close friend of your father. Trust me. You are safe with me.”
Morning had come much too soon for Hattie Williams. She could feel the sun rising over the horizon long before it made its presence known with the first ray of light. Sleep had not come easily to her since Hezekiah’s death. In the odd moments when she was able to doze off, her dreams were filled to overflowing with images of the downfall of her beloved pastor.
She had become almost afraid to close her eyes for fear of what was to be revealed. Hattie didn’t believe in ghosts, but she imagined this would be what it felt like to be haunted. She did, however, believe in her gift. She knew God wasn’t simply trying to entertain her with the flood of images. “What do you want me to do, Lord?” she prayed each time she saw a vision of Hezekiah. “Please, Lord, tell me what it is you want me to do.”
It was past 4:00 a.m., and Hattie had long since given up on the idea of sleep. The coffee was already brewing on the stove. Brown bubbles leapt up into the glass dome at the top of 1950s percolator, vying to become her morning’s first sip of coffee. She could see the hints of day through the kitchen window.
Hattie busied herself with the morning rituals she had performed most of her adult life. She knew the key to living a long, happy life was to stay busy and stick to a schedule of activities planned for the week. Laundry was always done on Monday mornings. Monday was also occupied with roasting a chicken, or some other favorite meat, that would last the week. Tuesday mornings were for cleaning the already clean house, and Tuesday afternoons were reserved for signing checks at the church. Wednesday was Bible study with other seniors at church and polishing all the wood in the house with lemon wax. Thursday was the market. Friday was another Bible study at church. Saturdays were reserved for all the gardening that she was too busy to tend to during the week, and Sunday . . . The entire day on Sunday was dedicated to New Testament Cathedral. This was a routine that had begun years earlier, on the day after her husband was lowered into the ground, and it had kept her healthy and happy and her mind sharp.
Hattie was disappointed that she had had so little sleep the night before, but she was also grateful that she had not been subjected to another vision. Until she could understand what God was trying to tell her, she knew these visions would continue. Peace would come in the exact moment when she finally understood His divine plan. It always had, and once she knew her duties, she would act on them swiftly and decisively. There was no questioning and no doubt. If God wanted her to do something, both He and she knew it would be done. That was why He had made her Hattie Williams.
Hattie’s fuzzy house slippers flapped against the linoleum as she puttered around the kitchen. The tea towels had been hung in their place, on hooks over the sink. The remnants of the dishes from the evening meal had been washed and placed in their exact spots on the shelves and in the drawers and cupboards. A bulging grapefruit had already been halved, placed squarely in the center of a saucer, and positioned in front of her seat at the dinette table. Every item in the kitchen had its place, and Hattie would not sit until each was where it should be.
The coffee finished brewing, and she poured it into her cup. Black, no cream and no sugar. Hattie settled into her seat and reached behind her to turn on the radio. The familiar crackling voice of her favorite radio preacher filled the room.
“God bless all you brothers and sisters out there in radio land,” was the preacher’s greeting, delivered with a thick Southern drawl. “Today’s sermon is entitled ‘God Doesn’t Play by Our Rules.’”
Hattie reached for her Bible on the counter and read silently as the preacher preached on.
“Now, I know many of you think you know God’s will for your life. Well, I’m here to tell you this morning that you are probably wrong. God’s will and His plans are so far beyond our understanding that it is only an arrogant man who thinks he knows what God plans to do with his life. I’m encouraging you this morning not to be that man. Don’t try to figure out what God wants you to do. You’ll never figure it out. All we need to do as believers is do what we believe is the right thing. Never mind what others tell you to do. Ignore what we preachers tell you to do, because contrary to what we been telling you all these years, none of us ain’t got no special pipeline to God.
“Stop being a fool and start listening to your own heart. Stop allowing these self-proclaimed prophets, preachers, and so-called men of God to tell you what God’s plan is for your life. You know what the right thing to do is. Always listen to your heart and stop waiting for someone else to tell you. That’s why black folk ain’t much farther ahead today than we could be. We always waiting for Sunday morning to come for somebody else to tell us what to do, what to believe, and what to say. If you don’t hear anything else I’ve said this morning, please hear this. If a preacher tells you they have a special message for you from God, pick up your purse and check your pocket to make sure your wallet is still there and tell him, ‘No thank you, sir. If God has a message for me, He’ll tell me Himself.’ Believe me, if you will stop and be still for a moment and listen to your heart, you’ll hear clearly what it is God wants you to do.”
Hattie froze when she heard the words. They reverberated in her head like the toll of a bell in a church steeple. Hattie looked out her kitchen window. She was strangely comforted as she slowly came to the realization that what the old Southern preacher had said was true and that his words served as a reminder of truths that she already knew.
As she eased into a sense of peace and clarity, something that had eluded her for weeks, the kitchen window slowly filled with a thick fog. Hattie rested her hand on the open Bible and calmly waited for what was to come.
Her wait was brief. Gideon Truman appeared in a flash. He was standing on the edge of a cliff. She could see a tempestuous ocean slamming against a floor of jagged rocks below. The wind was blowing, and the sky was filled with ominous clouds that floated quickly by. Gideon had his back to her, and he was looking off into the distance. His jacket was billowing in the wind as he took a series of steps backward, away from the cliff.
Suddenly a hand appeared on his shoulder and stopped him from moving away from the cliff. Hattie could see that he was trying to move away from the dangerous edge, but the hand on his shoulder prevented him from moving farther. The wind seemed to double in strength, and his jacket flapped violently around his torso. The hand then began to guide him back toward the cliff.
Hattie craned her neck to see who the hand belonged to. The entity’s feelings were so well camouflaged that she could not discern who it was or even if it was a man or a woman. Slowly, the owner of the hand came into view. Hattie gasped slightly when she saw it was Samantha. In the past she could always feel Samantha long before she came into view, whether it was in a vision or in real life. Hattie knew this was a sign that Samantha was slowing evolving into an entity whose emotions even she would not be able to read.
The thought frightened Hattie as she continued to watch Samantha guide Gideon back to the cliff’s edge. The waves below pounded the rocks and sent plumes of frothy sea mist into the air above their heads. Hattie could smell the ocean in her kitchen. She could hear the screeching cries of the seagulls that flew frantically overhead as the inevitable plunge of Gideon Truman drew near.
Hattie noted that Gideon put up little resistance as Samantha moved him forward. She could feel his fear, but it was not matched by any sign of struggle to save his own life.
Samantha was dressed in white. A white that seemed unearthly and deceptively pure. Her sandal-clad feet barely touched the earth as she glided behind Gideon. There was a comforting air emanating from her. Almost as if she was trying to convince Gideon that jumping was the right thing to do.
Hattie studied the scene more closely than she had ever studied one before. She searched the canvas for any detail that would provide a clue to what her role in it should be. The birds flying overhead, the waves crashing below. The clouds rushing by. Anything. Then, suddenly, she heard the old radio preacher’s voice coming from the window. “You know what the right thing to do is. Always listen to your heart and stop waiting for someone else to tell you.”
Hattie sat upright in her chair. She looked questioningly at the radio on the counter behind her and then back at the window. The radio preacher had long since ended his sermon. Now a ragtag choir was struggling through an old-time hymn on the radio.
Samantha moved Gideon steadily forward. By the time Hattie looked back at the window, Gideon’s feet were slipping at the edge and he was struggling to remain on the cliff. Samantha was standing an arm’s length away. Her raven-black hair was flapping wildly in the now tumultuous wind. The white color seemed to spill off her dress and slowly fill the window. The two figures were soon engulfed in white light from Samantha’s dress, and gradually, they disappeared from Hattie’s view.
Despite the troubling scene, Hattie was consumed by a sense of calm when it disappeared from her window. She looked down at her cup of black coffee, and the steam still rose up to meet her nose. It was as if time had stood still. Hattie took a sip, and the coffee was still as hot as when she first poured it. Daylight had come, and her vegetable garden was awash in the first muted rays of the morning sun. Stalks of collard greens, the lilting flowers of her foxgloves, the peach tree waiting for its second harvest of the season all seemed to yawn and stretch toward the sun as they readied themselves for a new day and a plentiful bounty.
“Thank you, Lord,” Hattie said as she gently blew into the steaming cup of coffee. “Thank you, Lord, for showing me the answer was always right here in my heart.”
Yellow crime-scene tape stretched across Gideon’s front door. The body had been removed, and a police officer was posted on the porch. News crews lined the winding street that led to his home. Reporters, who had been told to stay off the property, stood in the street and in neighboring yards, feeding the story to their morning viewers.
“We are coming to you live from in front of the home of CNN reporter Gideon Truman in Hollywood Hills, host of the show Truman Live,” said a female field reporter, wearing a cheap blue blazer with running shorts and tennis shoes, as she looked directly into the camera hoisted on the shoulder of a burly cameraman.
“The Los Angeles County Department of the Coroner just removed the body of an unidentified man who, according to the police, was killed in the home of Mr. Truman. No additional details have been provided by the police, but we have been told that the body was not that of Gideon Truman, who we believe is currently in the house.”
The cameraman was very careful to shoot her only from the waist up as she continued. “We also understand that in addition to Mr. Truman, there are apparently two other people in the house at this time. Here’s what we know. Neighbors heard gunshots coming from the residence sometime between three o’clock and four o’clock this morning and called the Los Angeles Police Department. According to witnesses, the police arrived and surrounded the property with guns fully drawn.
“For those of you who aren’t familiar with Gideon Truman, he is a nationally known reporter and the host of Truman Live on CNN. Truman is known for his high-profile stories. For instance, he was the first person to interview Bobby Kristina after the tragic death of her mother, Whitney Houston, and he interviewed Janet Jackson after the death of her brother Michael Jackson.
“As you can see behind me, this narrow street in this exclusive section of Hollywood Hills is filled with reporters from around the world.” The cameraman shifted the lens to show the army of white vans clogging the street, the men and women toting cameras on tripods, and the reporters tripping over themselves to get the best shot of the house.
“I’m Trisha Montoya. We will keep you informed as the details of this shocking story unfold.”
Jasmine sat curled on the couch, under a blanket, while Gideon and Danny escorted the last police officer to the door.
“Mr. Truman, you all might want to stay in the house for a while and not answer your door. There’s a crowd of reporters out there, and you are going to be mobbed if you leave anytime soon.”
“Thank you, Officer,” Gideon said. “Is there any way you can ask them to leave?”
“I’m afraid they’re not breaking any laws as long as they stay off your property and don’t block the road. You’re just going to have to wait them out.”
“What’s going to happen next?” Danny asked nervously.
“Since in your statements you both say you didn’t know the man, we’re treating this as a home invasion for now. You had every right to protect yourself in your home, and I seriously doubt the district attorney will pursue this as anything more than a burglary and a justifiable homicide. I know this has been very traumatic for you, so I suggest you maybe speak with a mental health professional to help you put all of this in perspective. If we have any other questions, we, of course, will be in contact with you, and we ask that you not leave the city for a few days, until the investigation is complete. Are you sure we can’t give the young lady a ride home? I can arrange to have an officer take her.”
“Thank you, but she said she prefers to stay here until the media has cleared out. We’ll make sure she gets home safely. She’ll be fine,” Gideon replied.
When the officer left, Gideon and Danny walked side by side back into the living room, where Jasmine was still sitting on the couch.
“Jasmine,” Gideon said in his most fatherly voice, “are you all right? I’ll make us all some tea and give you two a few minutes alone.”
As Gideon walked past Jasmine, he placed his hand gently on her shoulder and said, “I’m so sorry you had to go through this, but it’s over now and everything will be back to normal for you soon.” Then he left the room.
Danny sat at the opposite end of the couch. “How you doing over there?” he asked her gently. “You had a pretty rough night. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she said without looking at him. “How did you know my father?”
Danny had already decided that the best way to deal with Jasmine was to be direct and honest. He was prepared for her to hate him and call him a liar, but he was also prepared to take that risk.
“Jasmine, there’s no easy way to explain this to you other than to tell you the truth. You’re old enough to handle it.”
“I’m not a child. I’ve seen more and done more than you’ll probably see and do in a lifetime. I’m a Cleaveland, remember?”
“Yes, I remember.”
“Then tell me what the fuck is going on.”
“Your father and I were lovers.” He paused for her reaction, but there was none, so he continued. “We were together for almost two years before he died. On the day he was killed, he was going to announce to the congregation that he was leaving the church so that he and I could be together.”
“You’re lying,” she said calmly. “You’re just another opportunist trying to capitalize on his death.”
Danny was prepared for that reaction. He retrieved his laptop from the coffee table and logged into his e-mail account. The series of e-mails from her father was stored in a special file.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not lying to you, Jasmine. I’m also not trying to hurt you or capitalize on his death. I loved you father very much. If you’d like, I can show you some of the e-mails we sent each other.”
Jasmine unfolded her arms from under the blanket, took the laptop, and read the first e-mail from her father to Danny.
I love you, Danny. I told Samantha about you today, and her response was predictable. She threated to destroy me if I ever left her. I love you so much, I’m willing to risk everything. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again and make love to you. Trust me, I am going to do everything in my power to make you happy.
Love you with all my heart,
Hez
E-mail after e-mail spoke of the undeniable bond and love between the two men. As Jasmine read the glowing pages, silent tears fell from her eyes. After reading the fifth e-mail, she closed the laptop and handed it back to Danny. The tears continued to flow as she rested her head on the couch. Danny silently allowed her to process the startling revelation.
Moments passed before Jasmine spoke. “It sounds like he really loved you. Did you love him, or was it his money?”
“That’s a fair question. I know a lot of people threw themselves at your father for his money, but I assure you I loved him deeply. He was the most important person in my life. I miss him more than anyone could ever understand.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Jasmine said, wiping a tear from her cheek. “I miss him so much sometimes, I wish I were dead.”
“I know that feeling,” Danny said as his own tears began to flow. “In the days and weeks after it happened, I didn’t think I was going to be able to make it. I stayed locked up in my apartment for weeks. I almost lost my job.”
“I tried to commit suicide when I heard about it,” Jasmine said, matching his pain. “They had to pump my stomach. I wish they had let me die.”
“I understand, but I’m very glad you didn’t. You are a beautiful young woman, and I know your father loved you deeply. It means so much to me to share with you my love for your father. You’re taking this much better than I imagined you would. How do you feel?”
“I’m not sure how I feel right now,” Jasmine said, curling into a tighter ball on the couch. “Part of me is happy he found love before he died. My mother didn’t love him. She just ordered him around and used him, like she uses me and everyone else in her life.”
Danny was surprised when he heard the words. “Thank you, Jasmine. I did love him, and I believe he loved me.”
“I can tell. I wish he had lived so that he could be with you. He deserved to be happy.”
“How are you two doing?” Gideon asked, walking into the room with a tray holding two steaming mugs of tea, lemon wedges, sugar cubes, honey, and cream. “I didn’t know how you like your tea, Jasmine, so I brought a little bit of everything.”
Gideon placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the two. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Let me know if you need anything else,” he said gently. “The police said we should stay put for a while. I can take you home when things settled down outside. Are you hungry? I can make us breakfast if you’d like.”
“Don’t leave, Gideon,” Danny said. “I told her everything. She’s doing okay.”
“Did you know my father too?” Jasmine asked, looking up at Gideon.
Gideon sat down in a chair near Jasmine. “No, I never met him.”
“Then why were you following me last night? Why did you bring me here?”
“I’m doing a story on your father’s life and death, and I wanted to talk to you. When you left the club, you were so out of it, I was worried about you. You were leaving with some man who was almost old enough to be your . . .” Gideon did not complete the sentence. “Anyway, I brought you here to let you sleep it off. Now I wish I hadn’t gotten involved. You might have been better off going home with that guy.”
“I don’t even remember who he was,” Jasmine said, reaching for one of the mugs. “Thank you for stepping in. Are you two lovers now?”
Danny did not respond.
“I love Danny very much, Jasmine,” Gideon said shyly. “But I also know he loved your father very deeply, and it will take him some time to get over the loss.” He looked at Danny and continued. “But I’m willing to wait.”
“Have you met my mother?”
Danny immediately stood and walked to the kitchen. “Would you excuse me a minute?” he said nervously. “I’m going to get a cup for you, Gideon.”
“I’ve met your mother,” Gideon said boldly. “I’m sure she’s worried about you. Maybe you should call her.”
Jasmine released a pained scoff. “She probably hasn’t even noticed I’m not in the house. What did you think of her?”
Gideon was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of such a pointed question. “She’s a lovely woman,” he replied diplomatically. “One of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.”
“You know that’s not what I meant. What did you think of her as a person?”
“I’ll be honest with you, Jasmine,” Gideon said, silently bracing himself. “She frightened me.”
“That’s not unusual. She frightens everyone,” Jasmine replied coldly. “She frightens me too, and I’ve known her my entire life.”
“I didn’t mean it in a scary way. I meant I’m usually a good judge of a person’s character,” Gideon said, proceeding with caution. “I couldn’t get a read on just what exactly she is capable of or willing to do to get whatever it is she might want.”
“I know what she’s capable of, “Jasmine said with a distant look in her eyes. “I think she killed my father.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked casually.
“She hated him. I saw her with a gun the other day.”
“Did you ask her about it?”
“Yes. She denied everything and told me to never mention it again. She must have freaked out when Daddy told her about Danny. Now I know she thinks she had a good reason to kill him.”
Danny returned to the room and quietly sat back down on the couch. He had heard their entire conversation from the kitchen.
“There’s something I didn’t tell the police,” Jasmine said, ignoring his return. “I know the man who was here. He goes to the church, and I’ve seen him at the house a few times since my father died. I think my mother sent him here to kill you, Danny.”
“Do you actually think your mother is capable of murder?” Gideon asked, casting caution aside.
“Do you think it’s a coincidence that he broke into your house with a gun?” she asked.
“I knew him too,” Danny finally said.
“From where?” both Jasmine and Gideon asked simultaneously.
Danny fumbled with the now tepid mug of tea. “He tried to kill me before. Gideon, he was the man who attacked me.”
“Why didn’t you tell the police?” Gideon asked angrily.
“I couldn’t, and you already know why—”
“I don’t know why,” Jasmine interrupted.
Danny stood again and began to pace the floor.
“Tell her, Danny. She’s been honest with us. We have to be honest with her.”
“Jasmine, I very embarrassed to say this, but I tried to blackmail you mother. I was afraid and confused after your father was killed, and I thought she would try to do something to me next,” Danny said in a nervous rant. “I was going to use the money to leave the country and disappear. It was stupid and wrong, but I didn’t know what else to do at the time.”
“It looks like you were right,” Jasmine said, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “And if she thinks you know about any of this, Gideon, then you are in as much danger as Danny. I don’t think she’s done with you. When my mother starts something, she sticks with it until it’s finished to her satisfaction. She never backs down—”
The conversation was interrupted by Gideon’s telephone ringing in his pocket. “This is Gideon Truman,” he answered.
“Mr. Truman, This is Pastor Samantha Cleaveland. I’m watching the news. You are on every channel. Are you okay?”
“Sorry to disappoint you, Pastor Cleaveland,” Gideon said, looking at Jasmine and then at Danny, “but I’m fine, and so is Danny St. John, no thanks to you.”
Both Jasmine and Danny sat erect on the couch. Jasmine gestured to Gideon not to say she was in the house.
“I’m not sure what you mean, Mr. Truman. I’m just calling to tell you I’m praying for you.”
Gideon decided all bets were off at that point. Jasmine was in his home, Danny’s life and his own life had almost been taken away, and the woman responsible for it was on his phone.
“Did you notice that the man you sent here was taken out in a body bag?” Gideon pressed the speaker button on the phone and placed it on the coffee table in front of Jasmine and Danny.
“I doesn’t matter that this one failed,” Samantha said, her voice filling the room. “Trust me, there’ll be another one coming for you soon, and another and another, until the job is complete.”
Jasmine cupped her trembling hand over her mouth to muffle her cries.
“What do you mean?” Gideon asked, goading her.
“It means that I took care of my husband, so you must know I now have to take care of you and his handsome young lover. Hello, Danny. I assume you are listening to this conversation.”
“You can’t believe you can get away with killing us without anyone knowing,” Danny said timidly.
“You’d be surprised at just how much I’ve gotten away with over the years, Danny. Eliminating you will be easy compared to some of the things I’ve had to do in my life.”
Danny took the now trembling Jasmine into his arms. She buried her face in his chest to muffle her sobbing.
“What makes you think we won’t go to the police with what we know?” Gideon asked calmly.
“Oh, I know you won’t,” she replied smugly. “Because if it comes out that Danny was Hezekiah’s jilted lover, he becomes the prime suspect in his murder. Danny, I forget to mention to you that I have a recording of you blackmailing me. If the police learn that you actually met David Shackelford before tonight, and under such incriminating circumstances, they’ll easily come to the conclusion that you killed him to cover up the fact that you were trying to blackmail me. If they put me on the stand as a witness for the prosecution, my performance will be so convincing, you will most likely get the death penalty. When it all comes down to it, it will be your word against mine. Who do you think they’ll believe, Danny? You or me?”
“Mother, how could you do this!” Jasmine finally blurted out uncontrollably. “You’ll never get away with this.”
“Jasmine?” Samantha said in shock. “Is that you? What are you doing there? Leave that house immediately. You are in danger. Those men killed your father. Leave there now.”
“I heard everything, Mother,” Jasmine shrieked. “I know you killed Daddy, and I know you sent David Shackelford here to kill them.”
“Jasmine, I was just saying those things to scare them into leaving us alone. They’ve been threatening me since the day they killed your father. Danny claims he was having an affair with your father. He’s defiling the memory of your father. He’s nothing more than a deadly opportunist. Did he tell you he tried to extort two million dollars from me? They’re cold-blooded killers and thieves. I want you to get out of there now. If you two harm my daughter in any way, I’ll kill you both myself.”
“Stop it, Mother!” Jasmine yelled and lunged at the telephone on the table. “I can’t take your lies anymore.” She disconnected the line and threw the cell phone across the room.
The phone rang immediately as Gideon and Danny sat on the couch, Jasmine crying hysterically in their arms. The three stayed huddled together for as long as it took for Jasmine’s tears to fade into gentle sobs and the sobs to melt into painful contemplation, the telephone continuing to ring the entire time.