No Sin in Paradise

by Dijorn Moss

Genres: African American; African American Christian

Synopsis

Minister Nicodemus Dungy is learning the hard way that the life of a church fixer means there are no days off. Following the dramatic events of his last assignment, Nic has decided to take a much-needed vacation. Instead of resolving potential faith-shattering church scandals, he is spending his days on the beach enjoying a good book and an occasional swim in the ocean. He spends his nights with an elderly couple he has befriended, looking up at the stars and praying that one day Victory, a potential love interest, will join him. His vacation is cut short when a prominent pastor comes up dead at an international church conference. Despite his reluctance, Nic is offered a king's ransom to find information that can lead to the murderer. Against his better judgment, he accepts the assignment and thus sojourns into a deadly world of crime and corruption. The more he investigates the circumstances surrounding the pastor's murder, the more Nic will realize that he is in over his head. Set in a remote island in the Bahamas, No Sin in Paradise is a beautiful but deadly odyssey. Nic will encounter a secret society, a business tycoon, a drug dealer, and a voodoo priestess on his quest to uncover the truth, but will the truth come at a price that is too steep for Nic to pay?

Release date: September 1, 2014

Publisher: Urban Christian

Print pages: 288

Sample

It is eleven forty-six, and he’s still not here. Maybe he is a prophet and foresaw that I will be here. I know I couldn’t have missed him. There is one main road that goes throughout the island and Doctor Dixon’s house is the house that is near the top of the hill. There is someone who lives on top of the hill, but I don’t care. I’m waiting for only one person to arrive. Adele, the person whose home I’m staying in, informs me about the affair.

At eleven forty-six, a black Mercedes with black-tinted windows pulls up across the street from Doctor Dixon’s driveway. I thought that I wasn’t going to get fireworks on this glorious day. Prophet Chambers exits his Mercedes and starts to cross the street. He is alarmed when he sees me, probably for the reason that he has never seen me before today. Prophet Chambers is a six foot four, silver-haired, good-looking gentleman. I can see why so many women find him appealing.

“Can I help you?” Prophet Chambers asks.

“Actually, that’s why I’m here, to help you save your ministry,” I say.

“And who are you?”

“I’m what the young people call a ‘hater,’” I say.

“Listen, young man, I don’t have any time for shenanigans. I’m very busy.”

Prophet Chambers tries to walk past me, and I stand in his way. He starts to breathe heavily, and he balls his fists.

“Did you know that Doctor Morris Dixon is one of the foremost pediatric surgeons?” I ask.

“Yes, I know. Mr. and Mrs. Dixon are prominent members of my ministry.”

“He travels from island to island helping understaffed and underfunded hospitals out. I mean, he’s certainly not adequately paid for the services he renders. That’s why I think the last thing he would want to hear is the prophet of the church that he attends and writes large checks to is laying healing hands on Mrs. Dixon after-hours.”

Prophet Chambers still doesn’t know who I am. But he now knows why I am here. His face conveys that he is concerned about me being outside Mr. Dixon’s home.

“Who are you?” Chambers asks.

“Someone you’ll hate today and thank tomorrow.” I put my hands in my pockets and walk up to Prophet Chambers. “I’ve read up on you. You’re actually the real deal. I’ve read testimonies of little girls with leukemia that were healed. People with longtime illness who are healed once they come to one of your meetings.”

“It’s a gift God has blessed me with, and I wish I could do something else, but what do you do when you’ve been called?”

I wish I could answer that question. I myself struggle with my calling. At times, I wonder if I was ever called to ministry. I started helping ministers who wanted to keep scandals from destroying their churches, and years later, I find myself so far away from my original intention.

“God has given you an amazing gift. Don’t squander it for the profit of the flesh,” I said.

I can tell my words are penetrating Chambers’s soul. He looks down at his feet as if he’s searching for answers.

“I never meant to go down this road with Phaedra,” he says.

“I know,” I say. I didn’t do a lot of research on Mrs. Dixon, so I assume that Phaedra is her first name.

“But she proves to be a hard woman to resist.” Chambers starts to rub his head.

“You need to do what God has placed you on this earth to do . . . and that’s help people through the ministry of healing.”

“What is going on here?”

I look over Chambers’s shoulders and I see Mrs. Dixon walking out to the drive in a silk robe. It doesn’t take a genius to see that she probably has on lingerie underneath, if anything at all. Chambers was headed for a fun afternoon before I intervened. Sin costs, and too many of us don’t even bother to look at the price tag.

“Who are you?” Mrs. Dixon asks me.

“I’m on vacation, and your husband is on his way home. His last appointment cancelled out early.”

That part is not a lie. I found out that the good doctor is headed home and that would make this situation downright murderous.

I’ve seen too many cases where a man who wouldn’t kill a fly one minute, turns around and kills the person that he loves the next minute. A crime of passion is very possible.

I turn to Chambers. “You can do whatever you want. I just hope that you would encourage her to tell her husband the truth and bring an end to this affair in a mature way.”

“Do you know him?” Mrs. Dixon asks Chambers while pointing at me.

“He doesn’t,” I say.

“Will someone talk to me?” Mrs. Dixon says.

“I’m trying to save your marriage and Mr. Chambers’s ministry.”

“My marriage is none of your concern.”

She’s right. Mrs. Dixon’s marriage is none of my concern. One day I will learn to mind my own business, but today is not that day.

“You can do what you want. I just pray that you would do the right thing,” I say to both of them before I turn away.

I start to walk down the hill, and when I look back, I see Chambers trying to talk with Mrs. Dixon and reason with her. Maybe there is hope, but I don’t do free jobs, so for me, it’s back to my vacation.

I never knew how much I was in need of a vacation until I finally took one. Sitting in a beach chair watching people fish and parasail, the sky has banished the clouds and the wind races past my shoulders.

I know I look like a dork in my cream pants with my white-collar shirt and straw hat, but I don’t care. I just continue to eat shrimp the size of a fist and drink a virgin mango daiquiri while reading the latest Michael Connelly book. I like reading mystery novels, even though I can figure out who the murderer is early on in the novel.

I could sit out here all day, but in the back of my mind I know that it won’t last; it never does. That’s why moments like these are so special. I need moments like this to remind me that it doesn’t always rain, and that one does not have to spend life walking through muck and mire. I need this moment since God only knows what lies in the next moment.

Lord knows that when I took the Sacramento job, I didn’t expect that I would be tracking down a serial killer, among other things. It was strange enough that the reason I was in Sacramento to begin with was that I was looking for a first gentleman who went missing, only to find out that his wife, the senior pastor, was a former porn star. But that’s neither here nor there. I consider myself lucky to come out of that whole ordeal.

I finish my lunch and drift off to sleep, listening to the waves crash the shore and the sound of tourists at play. I dream I am at church. I know it’s a dream because I’m wearing jeans, and I don’t think I even own a pair of jeans. The church is almost empty, but the presence of God is in full effect. I’m clapping to the music, which is another indication that I’m having a dream since I don’t clap or dance in church. I lack the aptitude to do either. The pulpit is empty, and I don’t see a preacher. Maybe the open pulpit is meant for me. I’m an ordained minister, but I don’t feel like one.

The sound of a horn wakes me from my sleep. I gather myself and recognize the culprit.

A fourteen foot boat name The Exodus pulls into the docks. I leave my book behind and start to walk toward the dock. It’s a short walk from the palm tree, where I was posted near the dock. The sun makes it difficult to walk barefooted on the sand. I walk along the shore so that the water can cool my feet. I arrive at the dock and up pops Sam Moses. Sam moved to the island after he retired from the water and power company. He now spends his days fishing and selling his catch to the local restaurants.

“Hey, Doc, I see you were napping,” Sam says.

“That didn’t stop you from waking me up.”

“You didn’t come here to sleep. You came here to take in the island and all of its fine pleasure. Here!” Sam hands me a cage filled with his catch, and I’m reluctant to take it. “Don’t be shy now, take them.”

“They seem less hostile at Red Lobster,” I say.

Inside the cage are four large lobsters that were plucked from the ocean. Sam sells these lobsters to the restaurants throughout the islands. He doesn’t turn a big profit. I hear it said that the Bahamas are the land of lost wealth. Many people come out to the island looking for wealth, something that they never find. I think going out to sea gives him a sense of purpose. A man cannot survive without a sense of purpose.

“You should get a good price for these,” I say.

“Oh, these are not for sale. These bad boys are for us. Me, you, and the lovely Adele,” Sam says as he steps off the boat.

Adele is not only the woman who I am renting the house from while I am on the island, but she is also the object of Sam’s affection.

“I see you’re trying to get me caught up in this little coup you’ve staged for Adele,” I say.

“I just don’t want her to think that I’m trying to hit on her. I want her to think that it’s just a nice dinner between friends.”

From what I’ve been told, Sammy has been hitting on Adele since he came to the islands fifteen years ago. I’ve only known him for a few weeks, but we walk along shore like we’ve been friends for years.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in California?” Sam asks.

I shake my head, but in truth, Sam has told me this story every day since the time I met him, but Sam tells the story with so much enthusiasm that I just let him go on.

“The Dolphins were in the Super Bowl. Man, my boys just administered a beat down on Washington.”

“The final score was only fourteen to seven,” I say.

“Hush up, now, it’s my story. I let you tell your stories any way you want. Any who, I spent the rest of my time out in Hollywood driving around. You Californians are some strange folks. I saw things there that would make Sodom and Gomorrah blush.”

I chuckle at Sam’s story, and then take a right onto a trail that leads to a row of homes that sit on the beach.

“So when are you going back?” Sammy asks.

“I don’t know, some day, one day before I get used to this.” I extend my hand out to an empty blue sky.

“Some things you can never get used to,” Sam says. “I’ve been here fifteen years, and I am still awestruck on days like today.”

We just so happen to come across Adele who is taking a stroll with her straw hat and a bag of groceries.

“Good afternoon, Adele,” I say.

“Good afternoon, sugar,” Adele replies.

“You’re looking good, Adele,” Sam says.

Adele has on her signature white cotton dress which brings out her mocha complexion.

“Hi, Sam,” Adele replies with a crooked smile.

“Adele, Sam caught some lobsters, and I was wondering if we could invite him to dinner tonight?”

Adele mumbles something under her breath. “Okay, Sam, you can come, but we have to be done in time for me to watch my programs. Justified comes on later tonight.”

I love Adele’s thick Bahemian accent. She adds freshness to the English language. She has lived to see her hair evolve from black to gray to silver, a remarkable woman. I lost my grandmother at an early age, too early for me to even appreciate her wisdom.

Adele hands out wisdom like candy, and I am a grateful recipient. She is another reason why I may never go back to the States.

“Nic, I was watching the news this morning,” she says to me. “There’s a lot of talk about the International Ecclesiastical conference going on at Green Cove. I’m surprised you’re not attending the conference, being a minister and all.”

The last place I want to be is at a conference. There are over seven hundred islands that comprise all of the Bahamas. The conference is being held on Green Cove, the island next door to the island I’m currently on, Crystal Cove. I chose this island because it’s less commercial than the other islands. I did not choose Green Cove for the fact that I didn’t want to be anywhere near Pastor Cole. Cole is the leader of the conference and his “God wants us all to be rich” mentality sours my stomach.

“I’m not a big fan of conferences,” I say.

My statement doesn’t sit well with Adele. I know my directness can come off as harsh, but there is no sense in getting close to someone if you can’t be yourself. My deepest desire is to live freely and open, letting everyone see me for who I am.

“Well, let me get to the market so I can get some stuff that can go along with the lobster.”

“I can pick up a bottle of wine for today,” I say.

“Oh, bless your heart,” Adele says before she resumes her trek to the market.

“Yeah, Doc, those walls that Adele has built is about to come crashing down,” Sammy says once she is out of earshot.

In my humble opinion, I believe the children of Israel had an easier time bringing down the walls of Jericho.

Later on that night, Adele, Sam, and I sit around an open bonfire, and we eat lobster and drink a bottle of Pinot underneath the stars.

“See, out here, you can get close to God. In the States, man has built skyscrapers, fast cars, and iPhones just so that he can marvel at his own achievements. But out here, you see a wonder that man can’t even claim. He just has to sit in awe and observe.”

Whenever Sam has a belly full of good food and wine, he turns into a philosopher. Sammy worked for the water and power company, but he spent every waking moment reading and educating his four children into adulthood.

“True, but there is a flip side to the coin,” I say. “Skyscrapers and iPhones speak to man’s creativity, and thus, divine potential.”

“Boring,” Adele says after she sips on her wine. “All you men ever want to talk about is God and sports.”

“What would you rather us talk about, Adele? Atlanta Housewives or Basketball Wives?” I ask.

“You,” Adele says.

“Me?” I swallow a lump of wine down the wrong pipe and begin to cough. It takes me a minute to recover. “What about me?”

“Every day I see you watch as those planes land, hoping and looking for something or someone. Who is it?”

I don’t like talking about myself, and my line of work makes it easy for me to not talk about myself, since I’m always focused on everyone else. I don’t have to deal with the demons that lie within me. I pacify them with a paradoxical cocktail of prayer, alcohol, and nicotine.

At least . . . that was the case until now. I gaze into the flames and think of only one person who can make this night perfect.

“Victory.”

“Who?” Sam asks.

“She is a woman I met recently, and I gave her an open ticket to fly out here. Each day I wonder if she is on one of those incoming flights.”

“She must be a cold piece of work to be named Victory,” Sam says, “and you must be the biggest fool I’ve ever seen to be out here without her.”

“I’m trying to tell you,” Adele says.

The one time these two agree with each other . . . and it’s at my expense. Sam is right.

I am a fool; a fool to think that Victory and I have something special, that my time in Sacramento was not a waste. Love is a cold game, and I’m not ashamed to admit that I don’t have the stomach for combat involving matters of the heart.

“She’ll come,” Adele says, as certain as she is sitting along the fire breathing.

We spend a long time in silence watching the crackling of the fire. It feels good to be in the company of people who can appreciate silence as much as I do.

“What time is it?” Adele asks.

Sammy and I both look down at our watches.

“It’s about ten o’clock,” I say.

“Oh my goodness, Justified is on. Sitting around fooling with y’all two, I almost missed my Raylan Givens.”

Adele takes off heading toward her house like an Olympic sprinter.

An hour later the show concludes. Sam was not invited to watch Justified so he went on home with the promise that he and I would hook up later.

“Whoo wee, I just love my Raylan Givens, especially when he asks folks if they are willing to bet their life on it.”

“Yea, it’s a good show.” It has a little too much violence for my taste, but I see why Adele finds the show appealing.

“Do you mind if we watch the nightly news?” I ask.

“Sure, sugar.” Adele hands me the remote, and I change to the news station.

A breaking news bulletin appears on the scene with a local reporter. I still haven’t adjusted to the contrast between the news out in the States and the news on the island. In the U.S., our news primarily focuses on what’s going on domestically, while out here in the islands, the news is focused on what’s going on internationally.

“Breaking news: tragedy struck this Faith Conference when the keynote speaker Pastor Jeremiah Cole was found dead.”

“Oh my Lord,” Adele says.

My Lord is right. A famous pastor is found dead on an island next to mine. What could that mean for my vacation?

I wade in the warm wate. . .