Poison Candy - Book 2: Behind Closed Doors Series Page 12

  About four miles later, Izaiah pulled the Wrangler to the right and took the narrow road that led to the entrance of St. Elmo’s Valley. It was also where the smoothness of the asphalt abruptly discontinued. They encountered an unpleasant experience, falling into huge potholes that had been gradually burrowed by the heavy rains. Children in ratty clothing were on the side of the road, practically begging anyone to buy their produce, which was now beginning to show signs of decay. Izaiah’s heart went out to them. He stopped the Wrangler just short of a little girl with two small bunches of bananas in her hands.

  “How much?” he asked.

  “Two dollars,” the little girl smiled, desperation filling her eyes. “But I’ll take whatever you give me.”

  “I’ll take the bananas,” Izaiah said, handing her a twenty-dollar bill. “You can keep the change or share it with your friends. Your choice.”

  The little girl’s eyes and mouth were left open in disbelief. Tears looked as if they wanted to drop down her cheeks but she didn’t want to chance making her customer upset. She thanked Izaiah profusely and then ran away screaming with joy. When Izaiah pulled the jeep back onto the road, Asia was staring at him, helplessly impressed by Izaiah’s actions.

  “That was a very nice thing you did for that little girl,” she told him.

  Izaiah shrugged as if it was nothing. “My spirit is burdened for this part of the island. I intend to make a difference while I’m staying here in Bliss Haven.”

  Asia didn’t have an answer to return. She simply went back into her cocoon and stared out at the window. Soon they would be pulling up to the church where Jorge’s funeral would be held. It was by law in Bliss Haven that the body of a murdered victim or any unexplainable death be kept for investigation, which could take anywhere between one to three weeks – even longer in special circumstances. In Jorge’s case, his body had been released to his family within a week of his death. The only reason Jorge was being buried that afternoon, after spending an additional two weeks in the morgue was because Jorge’s family needed time to gather enough funds to give Jorge a sensible service.

  “Thank you for taking the time to do this,” Asia said when Izaiah eased the Wrangler into an empty parking space. “But I can take care of myself from here.”

  “I promised your father that I would take care of you.”

  Asia scoffed. “As if my father studies a word you say. Besides, you don’t want to spend the remainder of your day sitting in a funeral –”

  “How do you know what I want, Asia?” Izaiah turned off the engine and then parked his stare on a pair of eyes that almost made him melt on the inside. “You don’t spend enough time with me to make such a bold statement. I know what you’re trying to do and I’m not gonna let you do it. I’m staying with you, however long the funeral lasts. And if you have plans to go to the gravesite, I will accompany you there as well. You’re not getting rid of me that easily. So, you might as well get used to me being around.”

  Asia blinked back her astonishment. She thought she was defiant, but it appeared as if she’d met her match. Not being able to top Izaiah’s tone, Asia pushed open the passenger door and slid out of the seat. “Well, suit yourself,” she spat. “Don’t complain and don’t rush me.”

  “I laid out my intentions from the beginning,” Izaiah said in a softer tone. He traipsed behind Asia toward the church. “I’m here if you need a shoulder to cry on…you don’t have to go through this alone.”

  Asia stopped and looked at him. “Are you expecting me to give you something in return? Because I really don’t understand what you hope to get out of following me around like some lost puppy.”

  Izaiah froze. Asia’s words could be quite abrasive. He guessed it was her way of protecting her heart from being trampled on, or maybe she was trying to get back at him for going against her wishes to attend Jorge’s funeral alone. Regardless of the reason, her words stung to the core and Izaiah wondered if he could keep up with a girl who clearly showed no interest in him. He watched her walk off and vanish through the doors of the church.

  He did not follow her at that point because he needed a little time to pick up his confidence from the ground. He then consulted God for His input.

  I believe You led me to this island to make a difference. I did not come looking for a wife; but only to do Your bidding. What now are these feelings I’m experiencing for this girl? I’ve been trying to downplay it, but it’s impossible to get her out of my head. Is Asia in Your will for me? I need to know, because I don’t want to be wasting my time if Asia is only going to break my heart. I need to stay focused…I don’t want to get tangled up in a difficult relationship.

  Izaiah looked around and surveyed his surroundings. There were only six vehicles in the parking lot, which included his Wrangler and a black hearse. Izaiah glanced at his watch. It was two thirty in the afternoon. Where were the people? Had they arrived too early, or had they arrived after everything was over? Sighing heavily now, Izaiah walked into the church and began to search for Asia. To his surprise, the small church with a seating of a hundred and fifty was packed to capacity. Izaiah assumed that very few folks in St. Elmo’s Valley owned a car.

  Straight ahead in front of the pulpit was a brown casket, where Asia had joined the line to view the remains of a shattered dream. Jorge Santino Bentley – his name read beneath a life-size photo. When it was her turn to stare into the face of her lover, Asia felt as if she was about to faint as flashbacks of their fleeting courtship consumed her.

  “My father will kill you, if he sees you…” She swatted her tears away, and hastened to join Jorge at the base of the steps. Once in his arms, she whispered emphatically, “I am yours – no matter what.”

  “I am a poor fellow with nothing to offer you,” he told Asia. “My last name might be Bentley, but I was born and raised in St. Elmo’s Valley –”

  “It doesn’t matter. Your past and your present condition have nothing to do with your future. You have so much potential, Jorge.”

  Jorge ran his fingers through Asia’s thick curls, loving how she was loving on him. “But still, my love…St. Elmo’s Valley is the least respected parish on this island. Your father will never let us get married –”

  “Then I will run away with you,” Asia said with a defiant tone. “I am nineteen. Old enough to do as I please.”

  A young man, who seemed to be no more than eighteen years old was doing an amazing rendition of R. Kelly’s, “If I Could Turn Back the Hands of Time”. Jorge’s parents had requested the selection, because Jorge was a huge fan of R. Kelly. The lyrics hit Asia like a ton of bricks. She unknowingly stumbled backward into Izaiah’s arms.

  “I’ve got you,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

  The gesture was gentle enough for Asia to accept. She turned to hug Izaiah, draping her arms tightly around him. She buried her face in the crook of his shoulder. No longer could she hold back her sobs that erupted from her stomach like a volcano. She missed Jorge beyond what she could articulate. She had witnessed his death in broad daylight – a brutal slaying that had left her world discombobulated. His blood had seeped all over her maxi dress, as she tried to revive him. But there was nothing she could have done to save him. If she could turn back the hands of time, she would have never introduced Jorge to her father. She would have simply eloped without telling anyone. She continued to hold on to Izaiah as he tried to locate two empty seats for them.

  The funeral rolled on for another two hours, with family and friends of Jorge sharing heartfelt sentiments, which only made Asia cry even more. Jorge’s parents, along with Anwar’s parents sat two rows ahead of Asia. The Daxon’s were so torn over their own missing son that seeing Jorge laid out in that casket only doubled their pain. Jorge and Anwar had been such good friends – two young men who could have changed the world with the amount of potential locked up in them. The Daxons didn’t know if their son was dead or alive, but they’d filed a missing person report just in case they were de
aling with a murderer on the loose. The only shred of hope they had was in that last text Anwar had sent over two weeks ago.

  The Bentleys and the Daxons were rich-sounding names for people of an impoverished background. If only their sons were given the opportunity to walk into their glorious future, the tide would have shifted in their favor. They undoubtedly would have been living in the lush coves of Crystal Bay, right alongside the Beaufort family. But what could they do at this point? Their dreams had been shattered. What would be, would be and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Soon, the benediction was given, which was preceded by the departure of Jorge’s casket. Family and friends lined the aisle and followed the pallbearers to the waiting hearse.

  Jorge’s and Anwar’s parents walked past Asia as they exited the church. Asia doubted it was intentional, but she couldn’t help feeling as if they were avoiding her somehow. Did they really know who she was? Jorge had never introduced her to his parents, but she was sure he’d showed them a photo of her. Actually, they’d planned for both sides of the family to meet to share the good news about their burgeoning attraction. But it was not meant to be. Somehow, that meeting between Jorge and her father changed everything for the worse, which had sharply reminded Asia of the line of demarcation between the rich and the poor.

  “Are you going to the gravesite?” Izaiah questioned from behind.

  Asia turned and rested her teary eyes on Izaiah’s handsome face. She now felt a sense of appreciation that he had decided to stay with her, in the face of the nasty way she’d treated him earlier. She wasn’t aware how much she needed his support, especially now that the groans of the mourners were beginning to escalate again.

  “I don’t think I can take it,” she sniveled. “Seeing Jorge go into the ground like that...it just seems so final. I’ll go later when everyone has left.”

  “What do you want to do in the meantime?”

  “I don’t know…I can’t go home, remember? My father kicked me out.”

  “Your father is upset; I’m certain he didn’t mean what he said.”

  “My father rarely makes vain threats,” Asia countered. “He got rid of Jorge, didn’t he?”

  “Don’t say that too loudly,” Izaiah advised. “You don’t want the wrong ear getting wind of such information.”

  “I don’t care about any of that, Izaiah. My father needs to be brought to justice for what he has done.”

  When the aisle was finally emptied, Izaiah gently guided Asia out of the pew. “Are you hungry?” he asked. “We could find something to eat to kill time before going to the gravesite.”

  “Seriously? I can’t eat and then sit on Jorge’s grave.”

  Izaiah didn’t get the connection, but he was there to please Asia, not aggravate her. “Then we’ll go somewhere else,” he suggested. “Maybe, we could sit by the beach. I remember passing a body of water about a quarter of a mile back.”

  Asia shrugged, but it was enough for Izaiah to interpret that his idea had been accepted. As they continued through the exit, he gingerly placed an arm around her shoulder. When Izaiah saw that Asia didn’t object, he relaxed and enjoyed the few seconds of closeness he’d been craving since he’d first put stares on Asia. It was all he ever wanted – to be next to the woman who unknowingly held his heart in the palm of her hand.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Karissa rested a cup of coffee in front of Richard and then pulled up a chair. It was late into the night, which was normal for the two detectives when they were working a case with many different angles. There spread before them were the names all of the persons – dead and alive – who may or may not be associated with the recent killings in Bliss Haven. Attached to each name was a brief synopsis of what the detectives had gathered about each person. The last few days had been extremely busy for the detectives, because nothing could have confused them more than an anonymous email, which showed up in Richard’s inbox – claiming to have the names that would solve the case.

  It briefly stated, House of gods – not an organization to be trusted. They killed Jorge Bentley and Chazz Brunswick. It could have very well been a hoax, but Richard wasn’t taking any chances. He immediately got a hold of the top software specialists to assist him in tracing the IP address to where that email had been derived. A location came back positive – a web shop just outside of Crystal Bay, which was rumored to be used for illegal number buying. He and Karissa made the trip and interviewed the owner and as many persons as they could to help identify the individual who’d been sitting at that particular computer.

  Of course, the detectives received various accounts as there had been many persons who’d been in and out of the web shop that day. It was shaping up to be a dead end, but Richard was one not easily deterred. He requested that the owner keep an ‘eye out’ for any strange behavior exhibited by his customers. Detailed assessments would be a benefit, but Richard didn’t want to be unreasonable. The detectives had responded to the anonymous email in hopes of baiting the subject. It was a good chance the subject would return to the web shop and probably use the same computer – if it was available. It was typical human behavior to gravitate to the familiar.

  “Okay, this is the scoop I’ve gotten so far on the House of gods.” Karissa took a sip of coffee from her cup and then added, “But before I get into that, I want to let you know that I was able to track down the owner of that license plate number.”

  “The one registered to MsV Stoffin?”

  “The one and only.”

  Richard stared at Karissa in a way for her to elucidate.

  “Ms. Stoffin owns a private limo service for high-end clients. She does business with Bishop Beaufort, helping to transport delegates from the U.S. that are attending an annual church convention.”

  “It was Ms. Stoffin’s limo that was parked in front of Gregory’s gate that afternoon?”

  “Apparently.”

  Richard’s brows came together at his next question. “So where was the limo that Gregory’s men were driving – the one that is registered in Gregory’s name?”

  Karissa smirked. “It was at a repair shop. They’d picked it up the day before we’d pulled them over.”

  “And you confirmed this?”

  “It was there for a week. I have a copy of the receipt right here.”

  “How convenient,” Richard mused. “No wonder the limo Gregory’s men were driving looked slightly newer. Because we’re dealing with two different limos.”

  “I thought the same thing. You want to classify it as another dead end?”

  “I don’t know…let it simmer for a while. Those limos may or may not have anything to do with this case. If Asia had seen that license plate number, this would have been a dunk in the basket.” Richard motioned his hand at Karissa. “But please proceed with what you’ve discovered about the House of gods.”

  “Gladly.” Karissa took another sip of her coffee and then jumped right into the notes she’d dug up over the Internet. “It appears to be an organization that was birthed in the early nineteen eighties by the mother of most of our modern-day secret societies. You wanna guess what that is, big guy?”

  “The mother?” Richard repeated thoughtfully. “Who is more prevalent than the Freemasonry?”

  Karissa smiled. “You hit the nail right on the head, my man. But the House of gods has since become an independent entity. They were formerly known as the House of Tsars, but a huge infraction exploded between the original leaders and a split ensued. Over time, the House of gods gained traction and is now considered one of the most prevailing secret societies in the world. Their elitism covers a wide scope of people in power. Government officials, celebrities of all sorts, clergymen, doctors, lawyers and a gamut of other professions too numerous to name.”

  “There is strength in numbers. I guess that’s what makes them so powerful,” Richard wondered out a loud.

  “Well, you know, there are many theories out there,” Karissa supplied. “Some suggest that secret soc
ieties are the real influencers behind global affairs. With that slate of power coming from all directions, I can believe that. I’ve read that every year secret meetings are conducted in certain spots around the world – to discuss the next ‘big’ move that could shift the world’s economy in an instant.”

  Richard gave his partner a perceptive look. “You feel this is what is being alluded to by the anonymous email – when it said that the House of gods is not to be trusted?”

  “I don’t know, Richard. But if this anonymous email turns out to be credible, I’m trying to piece together in my mind what would be the reason this organization would kill two people.”

  “Precisely,” Richard added. “Credibility is key.”

  “Uh-oh. I know that look. You’re starting to have doubts about that email, aren’t you?”

  “Well…”

  “But the organization exists!” Karissa spat before Richard had the opportunity to complete his train of thought. “Doesn’t that add credibility to the email? It appears as if this person was trying to send us clues.”

  Richard stood up and stretched and then sat back down. “I don’t intend to go on a wild goose chase, Karissa. This could simply be a diversion – to lead us away from the real murderers of Jorge Bentley and Chazz Brunswick.

  “But you wouldn’t have wasted time contacting the top software specialist to help us track down this anonymous person if you didn’t believe it was a possibility.”

  “I did not waste time,” Richard said. “I’ve had a chance to mull it over in my thoughts. That email could have been sent from the murderer himself.”

  “Or, it could have been a woman,” Karissa jested.

  “Yes, but you do get what I’m saying, right? I don’t trust the contents of that email. There must be hundreds, if not thousands of people in this supposed ‘secret’ organization. Do we barge in and investigate every one of them? Where would we begin to look? We have an email that doesn’t really tell us anything. The House of gods could refer to anyone or to any location. This email is just too ambiguous to pursue.”