When It All Falls Down

by Dijorn Moss

Genres: African American Christian

Synopsis

Nicodemus Dungy is not your ordinary minister. He prefers to work behind the scenes of the pulpit, and his clients pay him handsomely to make sure that what is done in the dark will never see the light. From paternity tests to drug abuse and embezzlement, Nicodemus Dungy has a unique skill set to solve any problem, until he is given the task to find a missing person. What begins as an open and shut case proves to be a serious test of his faith. With time not on his side and so many pieces to the puzzle still missing, Nicodemus Dungy must rely on more than just his natural abilities if he wants to keep it all from falling down.

Release date: September 1, 2013

Publisher: Urban Books

Print pages: 288

Sample

“Where is he now?” God asked Adam a similar question. While God’s question dealt with the spiritual proximity of His and Adam’s relationship, I literally want to know where is Charles Lewis, the senior pastor of True Vine Baptist Church, at 11:36 P.M. on a Friday night? We search every square inch of this 2,000-square-foot luxury hotel room and the only thing I can find is a broken condom wrapper, a bottle of Cristal that is starting to sweat, and a smell of unabashed sex that reaches up to the top of the Baltic ceiling and spreads from one end of the room to the next.

At the edge of the bed, a young girl in an overpriced scarlet corset sits with her face in her hands. The girl can’t be a day over nineteen. Maybe twenty at the most, which legally makes the girl accountable for her actions. Caught between adolescence and adulthood, the girl is physically developed beyond her years. However, her body is a series of bad decisions, from the piercings on the eyebrows, nose, and lips, to the butterfly tattoo between her breasts; this girl doesn’t take time to consider the consequences.

The young girl’s sobs ricochet off of the walls; she knows more than anyone else what transpired in this room an hour ago, but shame has seized her tongue. Moments have passed and while I grow more intrigued by the young girl who sits in front of me, I am aware that my original question has not been answered. “Don’t all speak at once.”

Two honorable but naïve deacons search each other’s blank faces for answers.

“We don’t know,” Deacon Townsend, the man who hired me, says. I consider Townsend my point man in this situation. He is the guy who will give me all of the information I need in order to be successful. So far, Deacon Townsend is off to a mediocre start. He knows why Pastor Lewis left, which is obvious, but Deacon Townsend doesn’t know where the pastor is at the present moment.

“Pastor Lewis is probably at home with the first lady,” Deacon Chambers, the other man in the room, says.

More than likely, Deacon Chambers is right. It is a Friday and Pastor Lewis’s church, True Vine, has just concluded a week-long revival. It is not uncommon for a pastor to come home late from a revival. I imagine he probably longs for a chance to fellowship with his fellow colleagues as a cover. So long as he does not come home too late, Pastor Lewis has time for a rendezvous. Where the story gets a little muddled is why Pastor Lewis got a hotel room in downtown Detroit? Discretion is key to an affair. This room is not discrete, which means the luxurious hotel room was the girl’s idea. Something transpired here that caused Pastor Lewis to up and leave and it was not a crisis of his conscience.

The young girl’s sobs reach an insufferable level, which means that she does not appreciate being neglected. There is something that is hidden that she wants us to discover, something that has to do with her face. To tell the truth I did not even look at her face.

I can only assume that my astute colleagues have not taken a look at her face either. I kneel down and gently pry the girl’s hands from her face. She reveals a developing black eye. I along with the two deacons wince at the sight. Beyond the rebellious tattoos and piercings lies a little girl who now has to add “abuse victim” to her ever-expanding resume.

A room that smells like sex and hard liquor and a distraught girl with a bruise on her body is not a foreign scene for me. Frankly, I have seen this scene play out many times before which made it simple for how I would resolve this matter.

“Who is Pastor Lewis’s successor?” I ask.

“Pastor Givens,” Deacon Townsend replies after some hesitation.

“Contact him and congratulate him on becoming the new senior pastor of True Vine Baptist Church,” I say.

“But what about Pastor Lewis?” Deacon Chambers asks.

“He’s done. The second he put his hands on this young lady it became a criminal act. You might as well cut your losses and save your church.”

“Well, with all due respect, Minister Dungy, you were hired to help fix this problem. Why else would we call you?” Deacon Townsend asks.

I move away from the young girl to make eye contact with Deacon Townsend. At five feet eight we are virtually the same height, but my stature dwarfs his and so I feel like I am the bigger man.

“You hired me because Pastor Lewis was having an affair and he refused to listen to any one of his elders. You hired me to keep the church from folding from a scandal and that is exactly what I am going to do. Now as far as I’m concerned when it comes to Pastor Lewis, I couldn’t care less. He better hope that I leave town before I see him or he’s going to have a black eye of his own.”

It is sheep like Deacon Townsend who make me thankful that I am no longer a minister at a church. While I still have all the papers and certificates that confirm me to be an ordained minister, I do not belong to a particular church. I can’t put my faith in people. I can only put my faith in God. Take for example this particular situation; Deacon Townsend is more concern about his loyalty to Pastor Lewis than his loyalty to the Gospel.

“Sweetheart, I’m going to take you to the hospital. Do you have medical insurance?” I ask her. The girl shakes her head no. I stand up and make eye contact with Deacon Townsend. “Don’t worry,” I say to the girl without taking my eyes off of Deacon Townsend. “The church will take care of your hospital bill.”

“Minister Dungy!” Deacon Townsend interjects, but I put up my hand to stop him. I gesture for us to step outside.

Deacon Townsend adheres to my request and follows me outside the door. “Minister Dungy, I thought—”

“Not here,” I say and I continue to walk down the hall toward the elevator. The hallway kind of reminds me of the Overlook Hotel from the book The Shining. Just the thought of what happened in that story gives me an eerie feeling. Of course I always have an unpleasant feeling whenever I am in an antiquated hotel.

It doesn’t come as a surprise that Deacon Townsend doesn’t hesitate to follow me to the elevator; being a follower seems indicative of his character. We share a moment as we wait for the elevator to arrive and admire our reflections in the elevator doors. We have striking resemblances until the door splits our images open and we enter the elevator. Even in the elevator Deacon Townsend resists the temptation to say anything. He is loyal to his master and does not want this scandal to be leaked as a result of his inability to use discretion.

We get off the elevator and make our way through a well-lit lobby, which I presume has not had any renovations since the sixties. Of course classic hotels have the luxury of remaining luxurious through the years. We don’t say a word to each other as we leave the hotel and walk across the street to where my rental car is parked.

To Deacon Townsend’s disappointment I did not call him outside to convey some secret advice that I did not want anyone within earshot to hear; no, instead I asked Townsend to follow me outside so that I can take in the icy Detroit air and for me to indulge in one of my many vices. I reach into the inside pocket of my wool sports coat and remove a cigarette. I light the cigarette and take a drag and exhale the smoke into the merciless cold air.

I appreciate the cold that the Motor City has to offer, especially coming from a place where sixty-degree weather meant that we’d entered winter. It is the cold of Detroit that breeds men of steel, which is why most cities have folded due to the economic depravity, but the Motor City remains resolute and keeps right on moving.

“Minister Dungy, I don’t understand how this works,” Deacon Townsend says.

“I’m going to tell you exactly how this is going to work. Your church is seventy percent women, about twenty percent men, and the rest are made up of children. A pastor having an adulterous affair is one thing, but a pastor being arrested for physically assaulting a woman is an entirely different thing all together. You will lose the bulk of your women, which means that you will lose their husbands and children as well.” I tap Deacon Townsend on the head as a gesture for him to think. One of my biggest pet peeves is when I have to talk to grown men like they’re five-year-olds. To me this situation is real simple: cut Pastor Lewis like a pound cake and move on.

I take another drag of my cigarette because I believe that for the first time Deacon Townsend comprehends the ramifications of his Pastor Lewis’s actions. “If you want to get ahead of this thing then you will get Pastor Lewis to resign as senior pastor of True Vine. Put in a new pastor with a different vision and get Pastor Lewis the help that he needs: anger management, marital counseling, whatever, but get him help.

“If the media or people start asking questions you can say that you are against Pastor Lewis’s actions. You’ve gotten help for both the pastor and the young lady and you plan to make a generous donation to a shelter for battered women. If you do that then you will save your church. If not, well, what do I care? I have already cashed the check.” I release a trail of smoke from my mouth.

“Pastor Lewis is an anointed man of God. He is an honorable man,” Townsend says.

“I don’t know if Pastor Lewis is a good man, Deacon, but I believe you are. Pastor Lewis is going to need men like you to help him get back on track.”

“I can’t thank you enough for all of your help,” Townsend says.

“You already thanked me when you paid me. You’re a good guy, Deacon, and I know you want to help, so I trust that you will do the best for your congregation and for the Gospel.”

“It was a pleasure working with you.” Deacon Townsend extends his hand and I give him a firm shake.

“It shouldn’t be. Now go and produce the girl. I’ll take her to the hospital.”

The deacon does not hesitate to go inside and get the girl. While I wait for the girl to come down I look into the sky. I don’t look for stars in a smog-filled sky. I look for God and understanding of why I have been cursed with this gift to solve problems.

The girl comes out in the cold. She has on a different outfit, but it hardly qualifies as an improvement. Her attire further proves the point that she is a confused little girl in a black leather skirt. Deacon Townsend covers her with his sport coat and bears the weather.

“We’re going to the hospital, princess,” I say before I open the door.

The girl gets into the car and I finish my cigarette in time to flick it off into the night. I give Deacon Townsend a head nod as I walk around to the driver side. I get into the car and the girl’s sobs have decreased dramatically. I turn on the ignition, and wait for the car to warm up before I drive off.

I remember where Pastor Lewis lives. I have half a mind to show up at his house and present the battered girl as a trophy to his wife. Instead I remain professional and exit the hotel parking lot, heading for the hospital. Deacon Townsend is still outside in the cold when I leave, just like a good dog.

Rather than listen to the girl sob, I turn on the radio and channel surf until I arrived at Marvin Gaye’s “Inner City Blues.” My windshield did its best to combat the snow falling from the sky, and at the first light I reach into my pocket for another cigarette. I fire up and by the time the light turns green, I take another drag.

“Excuse me.” I let down the window long enough to let the cigarette smoke escape out of the window.

“I’ve never met a minister who smokes,” the girl says.

“I’m honored.”

The girl winces from the sting of her bruised eye. I never know what to say in situations like this where I’m driving a broken woman home or to the hospital in this manner. To be honest, my thoughts are consumed by my work, and when I will have seen enough to walk away.

“Everything is going to be okay,” I say to the girl.

“I stopped believing that a long time ago.”

I do not know how to follow that response. She is not my client and it is counterproductive to get to know her. Those are the only words spoken until we arrive at the county hospital. I pull around to the back of the hospital where the emergency room entrance is located. I stop at the stop sign with no intentions to park or go inside.

“What am I supposed to tell them?” the girl asks.

“The truth. Pastor Lewis won’t hurt you anymore. When you get your bill, give it to the church and they will take care of it.”

“Then what?”

“Then you go home or you sue Pastor Lewis; I don’t know, princess. What I do know is that you don’t go after True Vine. Whenever you get the opportunity you commend True Vine for how they handled the situation.”

The girl steps back from the car and is about to walk away until I motion for her to stop. “God hasn’t abandoned you. I know it seems like that, but He hasn’t. God still has a plan for you.”

“Whatever,” the girl says as she steps away from the car. I watch her enter through the sliding glass doors before I pull away. I have two hours before my flight leaves. Two hours is a lot of time. It is enough time for me to make a quick stop.

As a kid I always wanted to live in a mansion made of all bricks. I always thought that brick mansions were the best because they seemed built to withstand any storm. Pastor Lewis has a brick mansion, just like the one that I dreamt about when I was a kid. Somehow I feel like Pastor Lewis’s house will not survive the storm that is heading his way.

I flick my cigarette into the night and roll up my window as I exit the car. I walk up the driveway of the Lewis residence and ring the doorbell. Even in an affluent neighborhood, the pressures of the recession have caused certain homeowners to add extra security measures. Pastor Lewis has a front gate that begins at the edge of the driveway, and bars on the windows. I can tell that the bars and gate have recently been added because there isn’t any rust or chipped paint.

“My goodness, Minister Dungy, it’s late,” First Lady Lewis says. She emerges from the door in her pink nightgown and robe. First Lady even has her hair wrapped, and given my experience with black women I know that she does not want me to see her in her nightgown, hair net, and rollers.

“I’m terribly sorry, First Lady Lewis, to bother you at this hour. I really need to speak with Pastor Lewis.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s late and he just got back from a meeting.”

Yeah, he just got back from a meeting, but not the kind you would approve of. “I know, but I’m about to get on a plane and go and I need to just talk with him.”

First Lady gives me a grin and unlocks the gate. I step into the space between the gate and the front door.

“Be quick about it. He’s in his study. I’ll show you the way,” First Lady Lewis says.

“Thank you so much.”

I follow First Lady into the house and embrace the warmth courtesy of the central heater. We walk past the staircase to a door behind the staircase. First Lady gives a polite knock on the door.

“The door is closed for a reason!” a voice says from the other side of the door.

“I know, but Minister Dungy is here. He needs to see you before he leaves,” First Lady Lewis says.

Pastor Lewis doesn’t say anything. I can only imagine what is going through Pastor Lewis’s mind. In truth I could’ve let the whole incident go. I have my money, the church has an exit strategy, the girl is at the hospital, and the church will pick up the tab. But my father used my mother and I as punching bags until I got older, and for t. . .