Doreen chuckled unexpectedly, which somehow took away Paul’s opportunity to respond. She whipped her delicate body in front of Karl and arrested him with a look that said that she was not a woman to be taken lightly. “My berries might be black,” she said, “but they are sweeter than any fruit you will ever taste in your life. Paul is lucky to have me.”
Karl took Doreen’s hand and kissed it gently. “It’s a pleasure meeting you, Miss Dandridge.” He moved his gaze to Paul and said in a cunning tone, “You are in the minority, my friend and I am thoroughly jealous.”
“There is certainly not another girl like Doreen,” Paul said. A big grin was on his face, but internally, he was extremely bothered by Doreen’s statement. However, he brushed it off and patted Karl’s back – the way a grandfather would do. “Don’t you go getting any crazy ideas; Miss Dandridge is all mine.”
Karl bowed like a respectable gentleman and said with a tight smirk, “Of course, my friend, of course…”
The years have gone by so quickly, Paul thought, and he could not believe that he was now at the mature age of sixty. Had he gotten too old for Doreen? His ‘private member’ was as vibrant as it had been when he’d first taken Doreen to bed. If only his wife would allow him to touch her, she would be thrilled to know that he could still get her juices flowing. But the woman loathes me, Paul thought. She would prefer that I wither away into nothingness. Where have we gone wrong, Doreen? You used to be so sweet to me.
Paul had not even realized that darkness had fallen, adding to the stillness – a deathly eeriness that mirrored Paul’s mood. The only emission of light came from the illumination of the moon, as it shone like a flashlight through his office window. A knock on the door suddenly took Paul out of his glum feeling for a moment, and in response, he clicked on the small lamp on his desk.
“Come in,” he shouted.
The door pushed open and Brian stuck his head in.
“Dad, what are you doing at the church at this hour?”
Paul cleared his throat and tried to appear busy. “I'm tempted to ask you the same question, son,” he said. “But by the way you're dressed I can safely assume you had a hot date.”
“Well, kind of...” Brian knew his father was fishing for information about the women in his life, but he was not ready to bring Marcia into the conversation – or Jasmine, for whatever that meant. “I was passing the area when I saw your car. Is everything okay?”
Paul withheld his response and studied the concern on his son's face. Their skin colors were worlds apart, but Brian's level of sensitivity matched that of his own heart. “I have dealt with better days,” Paul finally said. “Come in and take a seat.”
“I hope I'm not disturbing you,” Brian said, as he pulled out a chair in front of his father. “It looks as if you are preparing for a sermon.”
“In a way, it is a sermon. Karl has asked me to do the eulogy for his wife, but I am happy for the disruption.”
“I did not realize Sharon had been that sick,” Brian said.
“Neither did I, son, neither did I. It's just one of those moments in life that leaves one scrapping for answers. I can only imagine how Karl feels. He and Sharon did not have the best marriage, but he loved that woman dearly.”
“She had stopped coming to church for a while. So, I really never knew what was going on with her.”
Paul smiled and said, “Well, you’ve only been back from college a couple of months. Sharon was a faithful soul. She had been working new shifts, trying to secure a promotion…” Paul paused and let out a hissing sound through his teeth. “I am thoroughly saddened by her passing.”
“Can I change the subject for a bit?”
“Sure, son, what is it?”
Brain gave his father a shielded look, which did little to ease the betrayal he felt in his heart. “I was offered a job by a very promising firm. They have been in business for a while and –”
Paul interrupted sharply, “Did you accept the offer?”
“No, but I did not turn it down either.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, ‘why’?” Brian parroted, but it was an attempt to buy time. He knew exactly what was on his father’s mind when he spat out the question. Brian was half-expecting his father to react negatively. That was why he hadn’t come right out and told his father that it was Karl who had made the offer. He knew his father wouldn’t be able to digest it. “I did not give the company an answer. I wanted to talk to you about it before making any decision.”
“You are a grown man, Brian. Why do you need my input?”
“You’re upset,” Brian told his father. “You know that your opinion means a lot to me.”
Paul could not hide the incredulity in his voice when he lashed out bitterly, “Don’t you think I have a right to be upset? You and your brother are very ungrateful.” Paul stood and sliced the air in frustration. “I’ve built this church and a steel plant from scratch and I’ve been trying to make you both understand that I will not be here forever.”
“But Dad, don’t you think I’m following in your footsteps?” Brian said in his defense. “That’s the reason why I decided to go to Bible school.”
“Son, it takes more than a sermon to run an organization of this magnitude. You need to learn how to grasp the art of administration. That is the one thing I’ve been trying to pump into you.”
“It is not that I don’t understand administration,” Brian said. “We just see it through different perspectives. I don’t see the need for us to build an entire city, when we haven’t even mastered what we have now.”
Paul shook his head in an exasperated manner. “You must embrace the future,” he said. He stared Brian in the eyes, knowing his next string of words would not be received well. “Your brother has tasted the prominence of the world. He would be in a better position to understand what I’m trying to explain to you.”
“Between you and my mother, I don’t know who is worse,” Brian said quietly. “She might be rude and obnoxious, but you are outright shameful in showing favoritism between your sons. I am the one who is here with you. Wynton is on the stage grinding his butt in front of a crowd of lustful women…”
“That does not mean that your brother would remain in that state –”
“You can’t have everything your way, Dad,” Brian interrupted. “We have many things in common, but Wynton and I are individuals with different needs and aspirations. Don’t try to relive your life through us.”
Brian did not add another word. He simply turned around and exited his father’s office. At that point, he had made up his mind. He would accept Karl’s job offer without further delay – whether his father agreed or not. It was obvious his father did not truly want the best for him and for his life.
Chapter Nineteen
Three Days Later
“The results are in. It’s rare, but it appears to be Botulism poisoning,” the forensic examiner announced. “Scientific name: Clostridium botulinum. It is found in meat, fish, and vegetables that have either been insufficiently heated or improperly canned.”
Peter was not all that versed on the subject, but he did know that it came under the category of household poisons. He reached out his skinny hand and grasped the documents that were fastened to a clipboard. “Are you positive?” he questioned. “Sharon’s toxicity levels were extremely unusual.”
“Because botulism is extremely toxic, having a toxicity level of six – which by the way, is considered to be the ‘apogee’ of lethality. Just a taste of less than 5mg could put a human being out of commission for good.”
“To me, Sharon’s symptoms had suggested a more common ‘product’,” Peter said with raised brows. His Eastern accent was quite pronounced. “Arsenic, perhaps? In examining her, I noticed she had developed a flaky rash.”
“I think you are referring to exfoliative dermatitis,” the examiner said, “which could be a symptom of arsenic poisoning. However, the autopsy shows congestion and
hemorrhages in all of her vital organs. Her central nervous system had been severely affected and her kidneys had degenerated – even before she slipped into a coma.”
Peter flipped back several pages and stared at a close-up of Sharon’s corpse. “Her skin is completely discolored,” he said, as his gaze moved back to the examiner. “She doesn’t look like the Sharon I remember...”
“As I have alluded, botulism can make the corpse look extremely ill.” The examiner suddenly released a small chuckle and said humorously, “In terms of fatality, botulism is right up there with strychnine – a poison that Agatha Christie used to kill the lady of the house.”
“The Mysterious Affair of Styles,” Peter said reflectively. “I have read the novel about four times. The killer hid the taste of the poison by mixing it with hot chocolate.”
The examiner gave Peter a knowing look. “Don’t go dashing off on your wild imagination, Peter. Sharon could have accidentally been poisoned by something she had eaten. This is not new to us.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that she had been poisoned for one second,” Peter said. “However, I do doubt that it was an accident. The question I think we should be asking ourselves is this: Don’t you think it is a little strange that Sharon’s husband called an ambulance, rather than put her into the backseat of his car and take her to the hospital?”
“Make your point plain,” the examiner prodded.
“It is as plain as day,” Peter quipped with annoyance. “Don’t you see? It bought him some time. He knew that Sharon would have probably been dead by the time the ambulance arrived.”
The examiner placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder and said with snort, “You, my friend, are in the wrong profession. You’ve been ingesting too much of that Agatha Christie drivel. I am going to sign off on the death certificate and classify it as an ‘accidental death’ – brought about by congestion and hemorrhaging. I am satisfied with what the autopsy has revealed.”
“Think about it,” Peter spat, in his final attempt to get the examiner to change his mind. “Mr. Benton did not want this autopsy to begin with. What made him change his mind in such an instant?”
“Let it go, Abdul. I agree that Sharon had been a nice woman, but you can’t do any more for her now, except to cherish the memories you have of her. We all will miss her here at the hospital, but it is time to move on.” The examiner grabbed his jacket from the table and then shoved his arms through the sleeves. “I am going to the canteen to grab a bite to eat and then call it a day. I will see you in the morning.”
Peter was not willing to let it go. There were too many suspicious signs to simply treat Sharon’s death as a silly accident. It might have been made to look that way, but Peter was too experienced to be taken for a fool. However, there was one good thing that came out of this ordeal. The information that had been collected from the autopsy would be kept on record for several years. Peter was of the firm belief that truth not obtained today, would likely be revealed tomorrow. He was a patient man and he would wait until Mr. Benton made another dumb mistake.
Chapter Twenty
Another Three Days Later – Brandon View Baptist Church
It was supposed to be a predominately African American funeral, characterized by much hooting, and fainting spells, but the mood was surprisingly somber, as the family and friends of the Bentons took turns viewing Sharon’s final remains. Jasmine’s sniveling, however, threatened to blow the atmosphere apart. She held on to Karl’s arm for support, fearing that her next step could send her crashing to the carpet. There seemed to be no strength left in her legs, nevertheless, she dragged on toward what would be the last image she would have of her mother.
Karl looked debonair in an all-black suit and tie, which attractively sharpened his Hispanic features. The only emotion that he felt – apart from the pain that he had caused his precious daughter – was hardcore guilt. It had never left him. From the day Sharon died, he had never been the same man. He did not know that such shame would have taken over his heart. With Sharon out of the way, he and his secret partner were one step closer to having it all. If only there had been a better way, Sugar Plum, Karl said to himself. He, with Jasmine leaning firmly into him, gently touched Sharon’s cold hands and after a short while, they both took their seats in the front pew.
The congregation rose to sing Amazing Grace, and while they stood, Wynton, along with his fiancée and two of his bodyguards, slipped in through the side door of the church. He had heard that Jasmine was in town and he wanted to see her for himself. The way Brian had been going on about her caused Wynton to experience severe nostalgia. It was the only incentive that had dragged him out of bed at nine o’clock on a Wednesday morning. Who the hell had funerals on Wednesdays anyway? Wynton thought, as he continued down the side aisle. He and his group found empty seats behind two women whose hats were as broad as a bus tire.
“Man, those things have got to weigh an elephant on those ladies’ heads,” Wynton whispered to Tara. “I wonder how you would look in one of them. I bet you would fall down and bust your lip.”
Tara slapped her hands to her mouth to stop her giggle from coming out. She shot up from her seat and joined the congregation in singing, Amazing Grace. It was her way of ignoring Wynton’s desire to make her laugh. Wynton, however, took the opportunity to look around – to see if he could spot Jasmine amongst the crowd. He hadn’t seen her since he was sixteen, which made him all the more eager to see what she looked like. It was not that he had an agenda to execute, because he was quite happy with Tara, whom he was about to marry in a few short weeks. He simply wanted to settle his curiosity.
“Thank you,” Paul said after taking the microphone from Brian. If his son wasn’t good at anything else – he was good at stirring people with his melodious prayers. “You may be seated. May I draw your attention to Ecclesiastes, chapter three? I will begin at the first verse, using the New Living Translation. And it reads: For everything there is a season; a time for every activity under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die. A time to plant and time to harvest. A time to kill and a time to heal…”
A time to kill…Karl repeated the phrase in his head and wondered if Paul had read that portion of scripture correctly. Karl was a man who did not embellish his understanding with figurative language. He called a spade, a spade, and although he admitted he knew very little of the Bible, he had to question if the word, ‘kill’ in this instance, had been reserved for murder. Because if it had, it would provide the antidote for the guilt that he was experiencing. Karl knew deep down in his heart that murder ranked at the top of the sin list – the holy rollers’ list, as Karl would say.
Religious zealots used the list to unleash their tempers against those who were not of their fold. Sharon’s death would be classified as premeditated murder, which, no doubt would get him a first class ticket to the hottest part of hell. It was the only way out, Karl kept repeating to himself. His partner had assured him of it. His eyes slowly moved toward the pulpit and he noticed Paul’s wife sitting in her delegated spot. Her all-black ensemble, which included a translucent veil that fell over her face, gave her an air of influence. Every now and then, she would gently dab the corners of her eyes with a handkerchief, collecting her tears as if they were gold droplets.
Karl knew that Doreen’s tears were a sham because Doreen could not stand being in the same room with Sharon. They had been archrivals for years and today was a testament to Doreen’s strength. She had finally won the battle over Sharon. But how could you do it, Doreen? Karl asked himself, completely stunned over Doreen’s blatant hypocrisy. How can you just sit there and not feel one ounce of guilt about how you treated my wife?
Doreen turned her head in Karl’s direction, seeming to have read his thoughts. But she did not stare for long – just long enough to let Karl know that she was the one who had survived. She dabbed her tears and then looked away as if she were in deep pain. Karl bent his head toward his lap. He could not believe that he’d had
sex with that woman just hours before the funeral.
“…birth and death,” Paul was saying, “as Solomon had so poetically described it, are the boundaries of life. One day we all will appear before the throne of Almighty God – who will judge both the quick and the dead. Let the church agree by saying Amen.” Paul cleared his throat and stared out into the crowd. He reverently raised his palms in the air and then added, with much warmth in his voice, “Please stand and receive Sharon’s daughter, Ms. Jasmine Benton. She will pay tribute to the life of her mother.”
This was Wynton’s opportunity to finally get his wish – to see the woman who had played a role in his past life. They had never gotten the chance to say good-bye before she left for New York. And if Wynton had been truthful with Brian, he would have told Brian that there was a need to bring closure. Maybe that was the reason why Wynton wanted to see Jasmine so badly – to see if there was anything left between them.
But he did not want to draw attention to Tara. So, as a way of a distraction, he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer to him. The moment he began stroking her skin, he felt her body grow rigid, which told Wynton that Tara would not focus on anything else but those long, soft strokes.
“My Mummy was a Proverbs 31 woman,” Jasmine started softly. “A wonderful mother and a wife of noble character…”
Karl stood next to Jasmine to provide physical support. He had watched his daughter stumble a few times during the service and he knew it would even be more of a challenge giving a speech in front of hundreds of people. He kept his head bowed the entire time.
Jasmine continued, “Proverbs 31:10 starts off by saying: Who can find a virtuous woman? For her worth is far above rubies. The heart of her husband safely trusts her. So he will have no lack of gain. She does him good and not evil; all the days of her life.”
Karl swallowed so hard he was terrified that the audio system might have picked up the sound. Surely, his daughter did not have any idea about what she was saying in regards to his marriage. Jasmine had spent the last twelve years in New York. What did she know? She was not qualified to speak on her mother’s behalf. No one really knew Sharon like he knew her. She does him good and not evil…it was absolute garbage and Jasmine knew it. Sharon was no saint – as everyone was making her out to be.