Vatsal Parekh (Victory Watson)

Crime Thriller

3  

Vatsal Parekh (Victory Watson)

Crime Thriller

Death on Duval Street (Chapter-5)

Death on Duval Street (Chapter-5)

16 mins
140


The next morning, I assumed my normal spot in front of the window churning over in my mind the events and conversations that transpired the day before. I knew that my guests would be arriving shortly. I glanced around to assure myself of the apartment’s ability to accommodate a wheelchair.

My home was well furnished and appointed with expensive paintings and decorations reflecting my success as a writer. One book shelf next to the desk housed copies of all the books I had written. On the other shelves sat reference works and other novels that I held as literary models, books I believed helped me to learn how to write well.

At the sound of a knock at the door, I took another look and knew Perry would be fine. “The door’s open. Come on in.”

Perry and Theo entered.

“Perry! How are you?”

“I may be weak but I can still kick your sorry little ass,” he said as he stretched out his hand to shake.

After shaking hands I said, “And Theo, how are you?”

“Fine, Jay.”

Perry watched Theo as he walked over, sat on the sofa, and picked up a magazine to thumb through. Perry looked over at me and said, “I’m so lucky to have such a wonderful friend who takes care of me. I just love him so much.”

“We all love Theo, Perry. He’s an angel.”

Theo grunted, “Humph.”

“So, to what do I owe the honor of a visit from Key West’s most famous flamer?”

“Well, I need your advice on something.”

“Advice? From me? Uh, sure. Anything you want.”

“Well, I could say this nicely, I guess; but that ain’t my style, so here it is: You’re the only real Christian I know; well, except for Salina. But she cusses a lot and even blows a little weed now and then.”

“Salina’s got a good heart. And she talks about going to Mass all the time.”

“I know.”

There was a brief but noticeable pause. Perry continued, “I need to know about this evangelical business. You seem to know a lot about those kinds of things.”

“I’m no expert.”

“Yes. Well that may be so, but you’re the only Evangelical I know. Yet, you don’t push that in people’s faces, you know?”

“I appreciate you saying that, I think.”

“So, I’ve come to you for advice.”

“Boy, what a setup,” I said attempting a bit of levity. “But I can’t believe I’ve been so rude. Would you and Theo like a cup of coffee?”

“Sure,” Perry said as Theo nodded in agreement.

I walked into the kitchen but could hear Theo as he said, “Perry, darling. Just ask him.”

“I know. I will.”

A few minutes later, I brought out a tray with three cups of coffee, cream, sugar, and three spoons.

“Please, help yourself.”

They each took a cup and fixed it to their liking. I placed the tray and items on a side table and sat at my desk and took several sips of the warm liquid. After a moment I turned toward Perry with an expression that begged for him to begin.

Perry took a couple more sips of coffee and said, “It seems that the largest church in Miami has targeted Key West as their new, uh, what do they call it?”

“Mission field?”

“Yea. Mission field. In fact, they’re planning a major event for the same time in October as Fantasy Fest in addition to the application for a float in the parade. That’s why we decided to simply put them off for now.

“Okay. You may win this year; but they’ll take it to court and win for next year.”

Perry sipped on his coffee more and seemed to be thinking through my statement. “I’m afraid this may end our parades as we know them.”

“What do the lawyers say?”

“They haven’t gotten back to us, yet.”

“Well, in a way, that’s good. It’s not your fault the delay may take too long for them to be approved in time for the parade.”

“Yes, but, they’re coming anyway. The mayor told me yesterday they applied for a permit to put up a tent and hold meetings on the open field near the Dolphin Research Center--that park area owned by the city at the end of Southard.”

“I take it that the mayor doesn’t have grounds for refusing their application?”

“That’s what she said. Even though the tent will hold about a thousand people, the field is plenty big enough to handle that many cars and more.”

I pondered what Perry had said as I took another sip of coffee.

“Sounds like they’ve done their homework. So what do you want of me?”

“My question is simple. How can we battle this group?”

“Battle?”

“Yes. This is war.”

“Like the war on terror?” The words were just off my lips when I realized just how inappropriate that comment was. “Sorry about that. Anyway, I can assure you that they feel they’re fighting a spiritual battle against evil. But, referring to it as war? Well--”

“It is,” Perry said with a sternness I had not heard from him.

I took a big breath.

“Look, I’m a bit conflicted here. I’ve learned to appreciate and love this community and all the friends I’ve made while living here. And you are among my favorite people.”

“I know.”

“But, I understand both the theological and social positions these people hold. In fact, I hold many of those same beliefs.”

Perry seemed visibly shocked by what I said and appeared to ponder it for a moment.

“I guess I never thought of you that way.”

“I know,” I replied. “You have to understand that I might be theologically opposed to the gay life-style, I do, however, thoroughly appreciate other people’s points of view. Everyone has a right to their own opinions. And I always allow other people to be what they are without any judgment on my part.

“I know that, as well.”

“But that doesn’t mean that I agree with them on everything. In fact, I’m uncomfortable with their approach to evangelism. Sometimes we must simply agree to disagree on things. In my opinion, the key is not to be disagreeable about our disagreements.”

“And I appreciate that about you.”

“Please understand,” I stumbled to continue, “I simply want to be Christ among the people I care about. I’m not here to beat anyone over the head with a twenty-pound bible.”

Theodore’s eyes widened as he looked up and said, “Do people do that?”

Perry and I both laughed. I said, “It’s just a figure of speech, that’s all.”

“I understand and appreciate that you reflect the Jesus I’ve heard about all my life,” Perry added. “And perhaps you’re one of the reasons I’m not openly hostile toward Christianity.”

“Wow, Perry, I appreciate that.”

“But your friends--”

“Wait a minute,” I interjected loudly. “I never called them my friends. I don’t know them. I do know you and I consider you my friend.”

Perry nodded. “It looks like these folks are ready and willing to swing their bibles at us--” Stopping, he looked over at Theo, smiled, and said, “So to speak.”

I grabbed the opportunity and continued, “Perry, please believe me when I say that I might have similar beliefs with these people, but where we might disagree is their methodology. I mean, they may be very sincere in their beliefs and in what they believe God wants them to do. I disagree with their style of ‘in-your-face’ confrontational religion. I think it’s anti-productive. I’ve gained more through loving kindness than being pushy.”

“You do have a rather laid-back way of showing and talking about your personal beliefs. And in a strange way, I sort of admire that. I mean, I can respect their beliefs and their right to have those beliefs. I wish they would do it someplace other than Key West at this particular time.”

“I think we both feel the same way about that.”

“So, will you help us combat this style of what you call ‘in-your-face’ method of proselytizing?”

I found myself pausing for a moment because I wasn’t sure what to say next. “I’ll have to give this some thought.”

“Oh?”

“I don’t mean I’m not going to help you. I mean I’m not sure just what to do. This is big and complicated.”

“I didn’t mean to cause problems for you.”

“No problem, my friend. Let’s just call it a challenge.”

“In that case, I’m glad.” Perry turned his wheelchair toward Theo. “Let’s go.”

Theo got up and followed him as he headed toward the door. “Call me as soon as you’ve come up with something.”

“I’d love you guys to stay and have some lunch.”

“Thank you, Jay. You’re very kind. But, we need to go. I’ve got a treatment session in Miami this afternoon and we have to hit the road.”

“I hope it helps.” I paused for a moment then continued quietly, “It breaks my heart seeing you like this.”

“It hurts all of us,” Theodore replied.

“You may not know this,” Perry added before leaving, “but my grandfather was a Baptist preacher. Years ago.”

I looked at him with concern. “Did he accept you?”

“He never knew what I am. He died before any of that came out. He was very proud of my being a cop. He passed away a year after I became a detective.”

“I’m sorry.”

“But, given what I’m facing today, there’s something inside me that wants to ask-” Perry paused.

“What?”

Perry rose from his wheelchair as Theodore helped him. He took my hand.

“Perhaps, if you don’t mind, could you, maybe, say a prayer for this poor old bastard?”

I stood motionless for several seconds. But I managed a smile. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you for everything,” Perry said with a tear slowly creeping down his cheek. “You’ve been a good friend for many years.”

I carefully placed my hand on Perry’s shoulder and bowed my head. “May God bless and keep you and hopefully heal you.”

I leaned closer to him and quietly said, “Be well, my friend. And remember that these things always seem to have a way of working themselves out.”

Perry sat back down in the wheelchair with a pained smile. He and Theodore left through the front door and out to the porch where Theo moved the wheelchair down the three steps to the sidewalk.

I walked over to the window and peered out wiping away a couple of tears that creased their way onto my cheek. I watched as Perry and Theodore walked toward Duval Street and turned toward the north. Perry’s questions and conversation caused my thoughts to return to the time when I had a serious crisis of faith while attending Emerson College. I had responded to an invitation from another student and started meeting with a group of people who had been raised in the Episcopal Church like I had.

Although I did not consider myself religious, I did find the camaraderie comforting and familiar. I would attend Sunday morning services at the historic Trinity Church just a few blocks away from the campus. Three months later, these same friends introduced me to a religious movement with which I was unfamiliar.

One of the students invited me to a Bible study meeting in his dorm room where they began speaking in what they referred to as other tongues. I had no clue what these guys were talking about, but I was definitely uncomfortable with their aggressive attitude as they insisted that I try it out. I did not want to be impolite so I stayed after several minutes of their insistence. I finally just stood up and said to them, “Listen, I need to think about this. I mean I’ve never heard of it, and I’m not sure you guys know what you’re talking about.”

The others tried to talk me into staying, but one step at a time I politely worked my way out into the hall and back to my own room. There I got down on my knees and tried to do something I had not done over the last ten years. I prayed for help.

“God, help me understand people.”

I remained on my knees for several minutes not sure just what I was expecting. Nothing happened. For ten minutes I stayed there with my eyes closed. That’s when I heard the door open and my roommate say, “Jay?”

“Uh--”

“What are you looking for?”

“Nothing. I think I was praying.”

“You think?”

“Yeah. I know it sounds weird. Sorry.”

“Hey. No problem. You do what you’ve got to do. I’m cool with that.”

“Charles, I think what life is all about is finding your own center; not forcing other people into what you think their center should be.”

“What?”

I stood up, reached over, stretched out my hand to my roommate, and said, “Thanks.”

Charles looked at me and said, “You’re welcome?” as we shook hands.

I sat down and pulled out a book I needed to read for a class the next day. I think I had learned a very valuable lesson about people as I wondered, did God just answer my prayer? I sat at my desk, smiled, and went to work on my reading.

With a warm feeling that those memories brought, I returned to reality and went to the computer and the novel that hung around my neck like an albatross. I just had to finish this thing.

About an hour later, I saw Brian walking by the house. I pushed the window open wider and leaned out.

“Brian! You got a minute?”

Brian turned his head, his eyes widening, and said, “Coming.” I pushed the window back down, walked over to the door and opened it a little. I walked over to the small kitchen area and poured two cups of fresh coffee as Brian walked in and said, “What’s up, Jay?”

“Perry came by to talk to me.”

“Perry? Really? Wow. What an honor. He doesn’t visit people.”

“I know. But that’s not why I asked you up here.”

“So, I ask again. What’s up?”

“Have a seat.”

He sat down as I handed him the coffee. I looked at him, my eyes drooping and my face shouting reluctance, and said, “It’s about Miami.”

“I try to forget that part of my life.”

“I know. We’ve talked about those days several times. But, I need some help with something. It concerns Perry.”

“Oh? Well ask away.”

“I don’t remember you ever mentioning this, but are you familiar with a church known as The Christian Center?”

Brian took a slow deep breath then answered, “Yea. Why?”

“What can you tell me about them?

“Not much.”

“I was under the impression that you might have had a relationship of some kind with one or some of the people.”

“I do, uh, did.” He paused for what seemed nearly a minute.

I couldn’t tell whether his expression was signaling fear or just hesitation. “Well, what can you tell me?”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Brian got up and walked over to the bookshelf where I kept all the books with my name on the spine, each with its own title. He ran his fingers over several of them and said, “I wish I could write. I’d love for people to read my stuff after I’m dead.”

“Not much money in it. You make a hell of a lot more than I do with your singing.”

“The thought of someone reading what I had written long after I’m gone; well, that’s cool. Kinda makes you feel, you know, sort of immortal.”

“Why has this pastor made Key West his latest mission field?”

“Do you really want to know?”

“No. Perry does.”

“I can’t say for sure. You’ll need to talk to Maria, a friend of mine. She’s on the Missions Committee, I think. But, I’m not surprised they’re targeting Key West.”

“Do you know the pastor? I think his name is Santos.”

“Actually, his name is Juan Diego Hernandez y Santos. At least that’s what his name was when he emigrated from Cuba.”

“I’ve seen him on television. I didn’t realize he was Cuban.”

“I think he may have been forced to leave Cuba. But I don’t really know for sure. Just rumors, you know.”

“Wow,” I verbalized aloud.

“I think he came over with a friend of his or they may have met up after they both got here. I’m not sure what his real name is but he calls himself Marcus Champion.”

“I think that’s the man who is coming to Key West in a few weeks to set up things for a tent revival. At least that’s the scuttlebutt.”

“If he’s coming here, then Pastor John will be down soon. Marcus is the front man and John is the celebrity.”

“Sounds like a racket.”

“I think they were both some kind of con men in Cuba when they were young.”

“They must have had a conversion.”

“I don’t think so,” Brian said quickly. “They just found a more legal way of conning people out of their money.”

“Whoa, man. That’s cold.”

“Trust me. They aren’t any different now than they were in Cuba. At least that’s what I’ve heard.”

“They could give Christians a bad name, if that’s true.”

“I know you have a Christian background.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’d listen to you talk about God any day. But, those men? They have nothing to say to me or anyone else as far as I’m concerned.”

“Can you give me a little background?”

“Is this about what happened last night?”

“Yes. Perry came to me about it.”

“Okay, let me give you a little background. The church is located in a section of southwest Miami where local residents complained for years. You know, the traffic was awful every day of the week. Hundreds of cars coming and going all day, every day.”

“I can’t imagine.”

“And, of course, on Sundays, thousands of cars parking everywhere; in the lots, the green areas of the church property, and any available spaces for blocks in every direction. I guess that Pastor Santos hadn’t planned on that kind of growth.”

“I’ll bet that caused quite a controversy.”

“What set off a firestorm of protest was the announcement that the church was planning to build a five story parking garage in the middle of that residential area. The local neighborhood association approached the church leaders several times about the problem.”

“So what happened?”

“Well, it seems the church made some very generous offers to the owners of five houses that adjoined the church’s property, offers that were quickly accepted. During the next several months those houses were demolished and parking was expanded by another 250 parking spaces on the property.”

“Those were expensive parking places.”

“It relieved most of the pressure in the community. And it was this type of cooperative attitude that’s kept the church free of controversy – until now.”

“So why all the hub-bub now?”

Honestly? I have no clue what’s going on. And I know nothing about Santos and his side-kick other than what I’ve already mentioned.”

After a moment of reflection, I looked at Brian eye-to-eye.

“What can we do about this parade float thing?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“There ought to be something we can do.”

“Perhaps something will be done. But, it won’t be you.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say that someone will look into the matter and let you know. Okay? Trust me.” Brian looked at his watch. “Uh oh, I’m rehearsing my new number with the band in a few minutes. Got to run.”

“Are you doing a new number tonight?”

“No. Saturday night. You’ll be there?”

“I wouldn’t miss it.”

“Terrific. See you.” Brian shook my hand then quickly moved out the door.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I walked over to the window to watch Brian make his way down the street and turn onto Duval.

I walked back to the kitchen, poured myself another cup of coffee, walked back to the window, and pondered what had just happened.

What did Brian mean by saying ‘Trust me’? What could Brian be up to? The thoughts swirled around in my head. Whatever Brian was planning, well, it just couldn’t be anything good. My thoughts went wild with speculation. Was Brian capable of harming Reverend Santos? And if he was, why would he? What was it about this pastor that would cause Brian to make such a brash statement? And what is it that would cause so much emotional turmoil with people of Key West?

I put my cup down on the windowsill, walked to the door, and left the apartment. The thoughts whirled in my head. I realized that I had to do a lot more investigating to find out just what it was about these two men from Miami that concerned Brian so much.

I stopped walking and stood at the corner. My heart seemed to beat heavy in my chest. I knew what I had to do. But my deepest concern was whether I could find out in time?



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