Song of Solomon (22 page)

“Are you . . .” Pausing to sit up straight in his seat, CJ broke his voice down to a horrified whisper. “Are you telling me that Emmett Ford is dead because he got saved?”

“That's exactly what I'm telling you. I'm inclined to believe that the deal turned murderous because Milwaukee's great mayor made a life change, and at some point between the time he won the mayoral race and his early weeks of serving in his official capacity, started to walk the straight and narrow.”

“And he was probably about to pull the covers off what was going on,” CJ thought out loud.

“Exactly. Mayor Ford's new conscience was probably urging him to tell what he knew, but he never got the chance. Ford wasn't killed by some prejudiced skinhead who didn't want to see the city run by a black man, and he wasn't killed by some drug lord who wasn't willing to sit by and watch the new mayor sweep the streets clean of his kind of dirt. I believe that his killing was carefully orchestrated by the same people, the same dignitaries and VIPs, who endorsed him and convinced the people of Milwaukee that he was the best man for the job. At the time they were supporting him, Ford was one of them, but one decision on Ford's part changed everything.”

“The decision to follow Christ,” CJ mumbled.

“Exactly. And just like me and Kris found this out, every official that was assigned to this case has had the ability to solve this crime; but they didn't because every one of them is probably still on payroll with the real killers even as we speak.”

CJ rubbed his forehead. “Man!”

“The saddest part of all,” Victor added, “is that Emmett Ford never needed to get involved with this mess to begin with. I guess he just got caught up in the idea of living in the fast lane and having a big name, because it sure wasn't about the need for money. He wasn't strapped for cash. He had the fortune of being born with a silver spoon in his mouth, plus on his own merit, he had the means of making all the honest money he needed.”

“If his folks were so rich, seems like they would have put up the kind of reward that would make somebody come forward,” CJ observed.

“After the brutal way Ford was assassinated? Are you kidding me? I don't think any of them would have been that brave. They probably wouldn't have even lived long enough to collect the reward.”

“I guess not.” The inhumanity of it all saddened CJ. “If only someone had introduced Emmett to Christ before he ever got caught up in that mess. He'd probably still be alive today.”

“Yeah, mon. Ford made the decision to go straight, no doubt about it. But his past wouldn't let him live to tell the story. One man pulled the trigger, but I'm convinced that he was just doing what he'd been hired to do. The real killers wouldn't have dared to be directly connected to the murder. They're too smart for that; but a real investigation probably would have brought them all to light, I'm sure. That's why they had to squash it and let it go cold. Too many hands would have been found with blood on them, maybe even the hands of some of the city's top government officials.”

CJ exhaled heavily. He wished he could rewind time and erase everything he'd just heard, but he had promised Neil that he would let him know of any discoveries.
Lord, direct my path. Show me what to do.
It almost seemed too late to be praying that prayer. CJ was fully aware that God had been trying to guide him all the while, and because he refused God's direction, CJ had walked into a danger zone. And it was too late to back out now.

“That's all I have,” Victor said. “I hope it answered all of your questions, because I'm done with this one. Don't make me regret it, CJ.”

“I won't. I promise.”

“Believe me when I tell you that I believe you. If I didn't . . .” Victor let his incomplete sentence trail.

“Thanks, Vic.”

“For what?”

“The information,” CJ said.

“What information?”

Immediately catching the hint, CJ replied, “Nothing. See you 'round, my friend.”

As if metal springs had been surgically embedded in his back, Neil's body shot into an upright seated position. He hadn't been running, but his heart pounded like he was embarking upon mile five of a steep uphill climb. One hand fluttered to his chest; then both hands synchronized to trace the surface of his cheeks, traveling to the top of his head. All signs pointed to the fact that it was all a dream, but Neil had to check one more thing before he could be absolutely sure. Flipping his left hand palm down, he looked at his naked ring finger. It had been a dream all right, but instead of relief, a deep-seated sense of regret overshadowed Neil.

He used the fingers of both his hands to rub his eyes. Early in the morning, Neil's sight was at its worst. On a normal day, he only needed his eyeglasses to read fine printed matter, but anytime he failed to get his full eight hours of sleep, his need for corrective lenses tended to magnify. Turning toward his covered windows and staring as though he could see straight through the green-and-tan curtains that covered them, Neil focused on the dim early morning light that escaped into the room.

“What in the world was that all about?” he whispered into the atmosphere.

The red glowing numbers on Neil's bedside digital clock said that he still had nearly an hour before he'd have to get up and prepare for work. But when he lay back against the pillows, there was no will to sleep, only renewed visions of the dream he'd just awakened from. The colors had been so vibrant, the sounds so vivid, the tastes so—

Neil sprang up in the bed once more. This time, the unexpected blaring of his telephone was the cause. When he picked up the cordless phone from his cherry wood night-stand and saw his mother's name on the caller ID, Neil's first thought was to panic. Getting a call from Ms. Ella Mae at 5:15 in the morning wasn't normal. “Hello?” He held his voice as steady as he could, simultaneously praying in silence that all was well.

“Sol? Did I wake you? You sound like you already woke.”

“I am. I woke up just a few minutes ago. What's wrong? Why are you calling?” By his mother's response, Neil knew that his best attempt at sounding blithe wasn't working.

“Calm down. Nothing's wrong,” she said. “I just thought you might want to holler at your sister before she leaves. Her flight takes off at eight this morning. Remember? She didn't want me to call you because she said you didn't get up before six, but I told her you wouldn't mind getting up a little early to say good-bye to your baby sister.”

Neil was relieved that the call wasn't a crisis. The last time he got a call in the early morning hours from a family member, it was from Ernest Jr., his oldest brother, telling him that Dwayne has passed away. “I'm glad you called, Ms. Ella Mae. I would have been mad if Val had left without speaking to me.”

“See, I told you,” Neil heard his mother call out triumphantly, apparently speaking to Valerie, who was somewhere in the house with her. Then she turned her attention back to her son. “Here. I'm 'bout to put her on so y'all can talk before you have to be rushing to get ready for work.”

In the moments of silence that followed, Neil's thoughts floated back to his dream. A large part of him wished that he could revisit it and linger awhile to see what would happen next. The best part of it had to be just moments away, but he'd never experience it due to the tickling sensation on the sides of his face that awakened him.

“Hey, Sol.”

Neil smiled. While his siblings addressed him by the name occasionally, none of them made a habit of it. “Hey, Val. I hear you're headed out.”

“Yeah. As soon as the kids finish eating the breakfast that your mother insisted on preparing for them and we get the rental car loaded.”

“You know Ms. Ella Mae wasn't about to let her grandchildren leave on an empty stomach,” Neil observed. “You should have expected that.”

“Yeah, I should have.”

“You'll have to kiss Kee-Kee and Ty good-bye for me,” Neil said. “And I can't thank you enough for being my birthday surprise. It made my day. Your being there was better than the cake.”

Laughing, Valerie said, “I think that's the first time I've been compared to a dessert . . . well, not really. There was this time that Otis said I bought this whip cream in the spray can and—”

“Never mind! Never mind!” Neil exclaimed. Then over the sounds of his sister's laughter, he added, “There are some things that I don't need or want to know.”

“Anyway,” Valerie said, still giggling, “you're very welcome. I'm glad I came too. But I get the feeling that Shay's appearance was the icing that out-sweetened anything that any of us could have said or done.”

Not offering a denial, Neil saw this as a good segue to talk about his dream. He was going to wait and call CJ on his lunch break, but figured that his sister's ears would suffice. Maybe a woman's point of view was what he needed anyway. “You got a minute to talk? Do you need to rush off the phone?”

“No.” Valerie drew out the word, and then hesitated. “We're all packed, so I have a little time. What's up?”

“I just had a dream that I want to talk about.”

“A nightmare?”

“No,” Neil said. “Quite the opposite, actually.”

“What about?” She lowered her voice, and Neil assumed that she did so to keep their conversation as private as possible.

He pulled his legs close to his body and crossed them Indian-style. “Not about what . . . about who. I dreamed about Shay.” When Valerie remained quiet, he continued. “We were standing outside on what looked like beachfront property, and we were . . . getting married.”

Valerie gasped softly then whispered, “Married? You mean married, as in—”

“As in married, Val. We were getting married,” Neil said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Come to think of it, we were already married. I don't really recall the details of the ceremony itself, but it was a done deal. I had the ring on my finger and everything. So I guess what I was dreaming about were the moments after the ceremony ended.” Neil closed his eyes and relived it as he spoke. “There was music playing in the background, and everybody was dancing. We were dancing too, me and Shay.”

“Sounds nice,” was Valerie's response. “What were you dancing to? Luther? Celine? Anthony Hamilton? Mariah Carey? Do you remember?”

Those were some of his sister's favorites, but Neil shook his head in response. “No, none of them. I can't remember whose music it was, but—” He stopped short and gasped at the flashback that was so clear it almost blinded him.

“What?” Valerie beseeched from the other end of the line.

“It was me,” Neil revealed.

“What was you?”

“Singing. I was the one singing. I wasn't singing where everybody could hear me, though, so I don't know who the guests were dancing to, but I was singing to Shay . . . in her ear.”

“Voluntarily?” Valerie sounded shocked. “You were actually singing without her putting a gun to your head or a knife to your throat? This is huge, Neil.”

Neil's eyes fluttered open. His sister's wisecrack had distorted the tender image that he had recalled. “Do you want to hear the story or not?” he snarled.

“Of course I do. What were you singing?”

Sighing, Neil said, “I don't know. It was a song I'd never heard before. It was like I was making it up as I went along. It's still ringing in my head now. A love song of some sort. It's been years since song lyrics came to me in my dreams like that. And even more years since original
love
song lyrics came to me. It's weird.”

“Neil, you should write the words down before you forget them,” Valerie suggested.

Scratching his ear, Neil replied, “I'm gonna have to. I don't think the words will turn me loose until I do.”

“Tell me more,” Valerie urged. “What else happened in the dream?”

Unconsciously closing his eyes again, Neil rediscovered more pleasant memories and shared them. “I was dressed to the nine, Val. I was wearing a sharp black tux from the Drop Dead Collexion.”

“The who?”

“It's a line created by Ron Finley, this designer I met a few years ago out in Beverly Hills. Anyway, I was wearing a Drop Dead Collexion original, and Shay was gorgeous in a milky white Vera Wang silk gown that fitted her all the way to her waist, but flared from the hips down. She looked simply breathtaking. Like an angel without a broken wing.”

“Like a what?”

“Never mind,” Neil said. “The braids at the top of her head were pinned up, but the ones in the back were left to fall around her neck and shoulders. And the veil she wore sat on her hairstyle perfectly. God . . . she was beautiful.” The last part was spoken as though he were talking to himself instead of his sister.

“Certainly sounds like it,” Valerie remarked. “I hate that Ms. Ella Mae woke you out of this dream, Neil.”

“She didn't. I woke up before she called.”

“What awakened you? What happened?”

Neil thought long and hard. He tried to recall what had taken place in the moments just before his eyes opened and his body jarred into an upright position. What was the culprit that had so rudely interrupted his visit to heaven? “I remember,” he blurted, reaching up and touching the side of his face. “Like I said, I was singing to her, and we were dancing. And in the middle of it all, I pulled her to me and kissed her.” Neil's heartbeat quickened at the thought of it. Shaylynn's lips had felt like pure love against his.

“And the kiss is what woke you?” Valerie's question snatched him back from being fully swept away by the total recall.

Neil opened his eyes for the first time in a long while. “No, not the kiss. The wind.”

“The wind woke you up?”

“A gust of wind blew, and it caught her veil. It blew the veil over both our heads, and when the netting of it touched the sides of my face, I woke up.” A new wave of disappointment swept over him. As appealing as the veil had been, he wished now that she hadn't even worn it. Darn that Vera Wang! Perhaps, had Shaylynn not worn the veil, he would have slept long enough to not only see how the wedding festivities ended, but also how the honeymoon began. He could only imagine . . .

“Are the two of you a serious item, Neil?” Valerie asked, invading his thoughts once more. “I mean, I could feel the magnetism and see the attraction between the two of you, but I didn't want to assume anything. Especially not with you, because you've made it very clear that you'd never go that route again.”

“I know.” Neil turned his body and allowed his feet to dangle over the side of his mattress. He needed his morning cup of coffee. Glancing at the clock, he knew he'd have to end their conversation soon.

“I hear a
but
in there somewhere,” Valerie probed.

“
But
. . . things are changing,” Neil stated honestly. “Shay has made me want to try again.”

“Really, Neil?” The smile could be heard in Valerie's voice. “I've always hoped that you'd change your mind one day. You're such a great guy, and you deserve to know what it means to have a happy, lasting relationship. And I'm not just saying that because you're my brother. I really think you're a great catch, Neil.”

He couldn't help but blush at his sister's compliment. “Thanks.”

“I mean it,” Valerie added. “And I like Shay. In the little time that I spent with her, I've really come to like her and Chase.”

Neil nodded, though he knew she couldn't see him. “Ms. Ella Mae seems to like them too.”

“Like them? No, Ms. Ella Mae loves them,” Valerie corrected. Then, lowering her voice even more, she asked, “So what now? Are you gonna go after her? Ms. Ella Mae said that Shay is still emotionally attached to her deceased husband.”

“Emotionally attached is a watered down way of putting it, Val. She's still very much in love with that man, plain and simple.”

“If you really care about her, you'll fight for her.” Valerie spoke like she was the older sibling, passing down years of experienced wisdom.

“Fight what? Fight who?” Neil challenged with new mounting frustration. “Who am I fighting, Val? Emmett Ford? How can I win against a dead man? That's not even a fair fight.”

“You have to try.” His sister's voice sounded earnest. “You'll never know if you don't try.”

“You think I haven't tried? I put my neck on the chopping block last night. I told Shay exactly how I felt . . . exactly what I wanted. She knows that I want to form a romantic relationship with her. You know what she told me?”

Valerie sounded like she was bracing herself for the worst when she said, “What?”

“That her heart wasn't available. Those are
her
words, not mine. She's everything I want, but she's not available. When I say that she's still in love with Emmett, I'm not just making up some unfounded hypothesis. Shay told me flat out that she is still in love with him.” Neil released a highly perturbed sigh.

“So she didn't respond to you at all? You laid your feelings on the table, and the only response she had was to tell you that she was still in love with Emmett?” Disappointment saturated Valerie's tone.

“Not exactly,” Neil confessed. “It wasn't that cut and dry. There were moments when I felt like she was about to open up. She let me hold her, Val. She let me serenade her. Shay let me get closer to her last night than she'd ever allowed me to get before. Then just like that, it was all over. I know she wanted to let me in. I
know
she did, but . . .” The sentence remained open-ended. Neil pounded his fist on his knee. “First woman I've met in years that I have these kinds of feelings for and can see myself sharing a future with, and she's already taken. And by a corpse, no less. Ain't that a pile of nothing? He can't provide for her; he can't support her dreams; he can't help her raise their son; he can't even return her love, yet he's the man who has a permanent hold on her heart. How am I supposed to compete with that?” It was a question he'd asked many times in the past few days, and the question remained unanswered.