16
Jesse walked through the big church. It was a huge tabernacle richly appointed with expensive wood and stained glass, but he hardly noticed the opulence. He'd been in the Church of God before.
COG, as it was sometimes called, was a political church. In the black community political and economic power had always rested heavily in the church. And COG was as big as they came.
Every politician in the state as well as several presidents had spoken there. The who's who of Detroit's black elite all belonged. Jesse remembered that Ellis and his wife, Penny, had been married there. His fiancée, Connie, was a member too.
Jesse followed an old black woman through the sanctuary into the back of the building. COG was a complex with three buildings that took up an entire city block.
Jesse was led into a large conference room. It was beautiful, decorated in redwood. It could have been the den of a wealthy businessman or a celebrity, but it was the conference room of the pastor of COG, Oscar Paul, Jr., called Reverend Junior by everyone.
Reverend Junior sat at the head of a long wooden table. A medium-built man, of about forty, he was average-looking with light brown skin marked by a nasty-looking patch of acne. He wore nerdy black-rimmed glasses and sported a small Afro.
Reverend Junior had a degree from Harvard and had studied divinity at Princeton. He was on every list of prominent young leaders in the country. In a business that was crowded with self-ordained and suspect men of God he was the real deal.
Reverend Junior was seated with three other black ministers of various ages. They looked imposing in their dark suits and white collars. They were the members of MAC, Ministers Against Casinos. When Mayor Yancy and prominent businessmen tried to bring gambling to Detroit, Reverend Junior had put the MACs together and stopped them. And as the casino plans continued, the MACs foiled each try, building power and support in Detroit's communities.
“Gentlemen,” said Jesse.
“Have a seat, counselor,” said Reverend Junior.
Jesse sat down. The old black woman rushed in with a tray of soft drinks. She set down the tray and left.
“These are Reverends Turner, Hunter, and Washington,” said Reverend Junior. “We've been anxious about your visit, counselor.”
“Really? Why so?” asked Jesse.
“We know who killed the mayor,” said Turner in a raspy voice. He was an old man of about seventy with wispy white hair.
“Excuse Reverend Turner,” said Reverend Junior. “He thinks God killed the mayor.”
“He did,” said Turner. He drank his drink.
“What Reverend Turner means is that Yancy was a sinner and he paid the price for it,” said Washington. Washington was big, muscular, and couldn't have been more than twenty-five or so.
“He was a sinner, and God took him!” yelled Turner.
“We're all sinners,” said Reverend Junior. “Reverend Turner, please try to control yourself.”
“What is it we can do for you?” asked Hunter. He was a big, overweight man of about fifty. He was handsome with a head of dark, curly hair.
“Just following up leads,” said Jesse. “The mayor called here the day he died.” He took out a notepad and pen.
“I took that call,” said Reverend Junior. “He just called to tell us that he was planning another casino initiative. He asked me to meet him to talk about it. I agreed to meet him, but you know the rest.”
“Is that all?” asked Jesse, taking notes.
“Yes,” said Reverend Junior. “Yancy was always firm in his belief that we should have gambling. He was fearless about it.”
“Did you ever hear of anyone who might have been upset about the mayor's casino plan?” asked Jesse.
“The people were upset,” said Reverend Junior.
“We've defeated all the referendums,” said Washington, “one charter proposal, and countless actions in the state capitol. The power of the people's values is with us.”
“Casinos will only bring sin to Detroit,” said Reverend Junior. “And there's enough sin to go around already. Harris Yancy was wrong about trying to bring them in.”
“See, politicians think prosperity flows from business,” said Hunter. “But we know that it flows from God.”
The other reverends all said amen to this.
“You believe in Jesus?” Reverend Junior asked Jesse.
Jesse was somewhat thrown by the question. He did not want to let the reverend get him off the subject. But the power of the black church was strong. He felt guilty for even thinking about not answering the question.
“Yes,” said Jesse. “I'm a Christian.”
“Good,” said Reverend Junior. “Then you understand that our society is in trouble because we've turned our back on Jesus's example. Jesus was a revolutionary, a man who lived to show the world what His father, the living God, wanted them to do in life. We've turned away from that example of love and sacrifice. Instead we're concerned with self-pleasure and sin. Casinos don't want people to gamble with money; they want them to gamble with their souls. I can't allow that. We are nothing less than the sword of God, and we will strike at all attempts to bring more evil to this city.”
“I won't disagree with that,” said Jesse. “But aren't you all afraid that the new mayor will just bring them in anyway?”
“No,” said Reverend Junior quickly. “We will fight Crawford if we have to.”
“Have you talked to Crawford about this?” asked Jesse.
Hunter leaned over the table and gave Reverend Junior a look, holding up a hand.
“It's okay, brother,” said Reverend Junior. “I'll answer. Reverend Hunter is an attorney. He worries. Yes, I talked to Crawford about casinos. He wanted to help us in our fight against them.”
“Was this before or after the mayor died?” asked Jesse.
Hunter gave Reverend Junior another look.
“So, just what is your business here again, counselor?” asked Reverend Junior.
“Just following up leads, like I told you before,” said Jesse.
“This organization had nothing to do with the mayor's death,” said Hunter. “Your questioning here is inappropriate.”
“Sorry,” said Jesse. “I didn't mean to offend anyone.” Now he was fired up. These men were obviously hiding something.
“No offense taken,” said Reverend Junior. “I'd like to know how you think talking to us will help. I thought you had your suspect.”
“I don't want to leave any stone unturned. They'll say it was a rush to judgment, that sort of thing. We want to be able to say that we followed every lead, no matter how ridiculous it was.”
This made Hunter relax. As a lawyer Hunter knew that there was truth in Jesse's statement. Any good defense attorney knew that sometimes police and prosecutors ignored leads. Some would say that alone was reasonable doubt.
“Well, we all want Ms. Yancy to get a fair trial,” said Reverend Junior. “She is a member here, you know.”
“Yes, I do,” said Jesse.
“She didn't kill him,” said Turner. “God did.”
Reverend Junior gave Reverend Washington a look. Washington stood and went over to Turner. He whispered something to the old man, then took him out of the room.
“I wonder why COG didn't come out in Ms. Yancy's defense,” said Jesse. “I mean, she is prominent and, as you said, a member.”
Hunter frowned. He shot a look at Reverend Junior, but it was too late.
“I made that decision,” said Reverend Junior. “COG doesn't like to inject itself into these kinds of matters. And everyone is not so sure about Ms. Yancy's innocence. Hell hath no fury, Mr. King.”
“We have members in high places in the police department, the city government, and on the bench,” said Reverend Hunter. “We cannot show favoritism. It puts us in the position of having to do it all the time.”
Jesse knew that was not the truth. COG was the most political church in the city and could do anything it wanted.
“I see,” said Jesse.
“I'm afraid we have an urgent meeting,” said Reverend Junior. “But before we leave, we'd like to offer a prayer for you and for Ms. Yancy.”
Jesse didn't know what to think. Reverend Washington came back into the room. The MACs stood and bowed their heads. Jesse instinctively did the same as Reverend Junior spoke:
“Heavenly Father, we ask you to bless our sister Louise Yancy. Do not let her fall if she is innocent, and forgive her if she is not. And watch over this young lawyer. He is your instrument against the evil that took our brother Harris Yancy from this earth. Bless him as he strives to find the truth. And protect him from those who would deter him in his mission. We ask these and other blessings in Jesus' name. Amen.”
Jesse raised his head and stared directly into the eyes of Reverend Junior.
“Amen,” said Jesse.
Jesse entered Alex Manoogian Mansion on Dwight Street just outside downtown. The mansion is the official residence of the mayor of Detroit.
Jesse was greeted by an old black man in a suit.
“I'm Jesse King. I'm from the prosecutor's office.”
“Samuel Jackson,” said the old man. He was about seventy and had lost most of his hair. He was very dark, and his mouth was filled with perfect white dentures.
“Oh, like the actor,” said Jesse.
“Come in,” Samuel said, not responding to the comment. The old man ushered Jesse into a spacious living room, decorated with fine furniture. The house had the air of a palace. He tried not to look overwhelmed. The walls were lined with portraits of past mayors: Gibbs, Cavanaugh, Young, and Yancy.
In the middle of a big wall hung a picture of Lester Crawford.
Jesse sat on a big sofa. Samuel stood over him and asked, “Would you care for a refreshment, sir?”
“No, thanks,” said Jesse. “Hey, have a seat.”
“I'm the house director. I do not sit on assignment.”
“Okay,” said Jesse. “Then I'll stand.”
“As you wish, sir.”
Jesse stood up with his notepad, then: “Sam, I wanted to know if you--”
“It's Samuel, sir,” said the old man. “My name is Samuel.”
“Sorry,” said Jesse. This guy was certainly one for formality,
Jesse thought. Many old blacks in service positions found their dignity in the forgotten etiquette of yesterday. Jesse suddenly felt embarrassed for being so uncultured. “I need to know, Samuel, if you know why the mayor called here on the night he was murdered.”
“Yes, I do. I took that call for Mr. Crawford,” said Samuel.
“Really?” Jesse said, unable to hide his excitement. “What was he doing here?”
“There was a pro-casino meeting here. A lot of wealthy men.”
“Was there a Michael Talli here?” asked Jesse.
“Yes. He was at the meeting,” said Samuel. “Mr. Crawford--” He cleared his throat. “Mayor Crawford presided over the meeting.”
“I see,” said Jesse. Even though Crawford was personally against casinos, Yancy had obviously made him support the city's plan to get them. “So, did Crawford seem upset when he took the call?”
“I didn't watch him, sir,” said Samuel. There was a tinge of irritation in his voice.
“Sorry,” said Jesse. “Who took the other call?”
“There was no other call from the mayor that night,” said Samuel.
“Are you sure?” asked Jesse. “I have verified phone records.”
“I am positive,” said Samuel.
“All right. Can I have a list of the people at that party?”
“Yes. We keep a list of everyone who comes to the mansion,” said Samuel.
“That's great. Please let me have a copy,” said Jesse.
“Very good.” Samuel started off.
“Why do you keep such a list?” asked Jesse. “If you don't mind my asking.”
“Mayor Yancy liked to know who was here in his absence. He especially wanted to know when his wife was here.”
“Why was that?”
“You know,” said Samuel. “I see no need to soil his memory further.”
“I see,” said Jesse. “But if you can tell me, were they happy, the Yancys?”
“Happy is a relative term. They fought quite a bit, but it was common. But they had moments when they were like newlyweds.” He looked a little sad at this memory. “I'll get that list.”
Samuel walked out of the room and returned in a few minutes with several stapled pages. He handed them to Jesse. Jesse looked at the list and sighed heavily. Talli had been there that night. And during the day of the murder the mansion had been visited by many others. Crawford, D’Estenne, Walter Nicks, Reverend Junior, and Richard Steel had all come by at various times. Even his old friend Ellis Holmes had been there. Ellis had mentioned that, hadn't he? Jesse couldn't remember.
“Why were there so many people here that day?”
“I think it was the New City Project. The mayor had just gotten the brochures on the proposal, and he didn't want to have them delivered. He made everyone come here to get them. He liked to summon people sometimes.”
“Well, thank you,” said Jesse. “I think that I have everything I need.”
Samuel showed Jesse to the door, but Jesse hardly noticed the old man. He hurried out of the big house holding the list, feeling that he was getting closer to some hidden truth.