I'd found information about Louisa McNamara online and discerned a constraint to learn more about the older woman who I'd seen on three occasions, her presence in the lobby at the Hotel had been felt before I even laid eyes on her. I recollected the scene I had caused recanting that she'd found it rather amusing, whereas afterward I was compelled with shame. I'd sensed her rebellious spirit nonetheless being of age. When I'd seen her Pink Ice clothing line the large stone she'd worn came to mind.
Also I learned Martin had been born in Louisiana but raised in Mississippi, but brought to New Orleans as a child. Law had been his haven, but he allied only those of great advantage. I hadn't even deemed worthy to set foot in his home, let alone eat at his table. Trenton had owed him money, at what point had they reconciled? The pious nature of his role suddenly had become perplexed, why had he told me as much as he had? I'd been betrayed and knew Twan's role in it all wasn't as blameless as I'd initially thought, Sabrina was from Mississippi also and his mother had been in love with Martin, even as he was.
Troy was planning to leave Louisiana, his emphatic requests were now demands, also his violent nature had calmed. Fuck, I needed his pain. He handled me delicately---I was not fragile.
I looked at Trenton's obituary, it had been hand delivered. Their deaths were trendy I'd come to realize, remembering the day he had given me Twan's. Now I held his, but there was a difference. If I had to dig that casket up myself I would prove he was not dead but continue to make them believe he was---so I could re-kill him my damn self. Effortlessly, I searched for any overlooked information on Martin Poindexter. Since Ryella texted frequently now I texted back and forth between searches while Troy, continued to go down the list of shit Von had taken. Some he'd forgot he even had. Kerri's car yet sat outside and I waited to be questioned about the Honda. I would soon return to the big home in the Cul de Sac Veronica had owned, and from there we would leave, Troy had planned. He exhorted me into agreeing it was best for his child and I. The items Von had taken were returned to the home and lined up against the wall---they were all but labeled as they would have been in the evidence room, he had even taken Troy's shoes. Von had been the grimiest.
Lamont's safe was among the contents, fire resistant and removed from the bedroom closet wall. I thought back to what Martin had said about Daddy, and I remembered him looking at number sequences as a child, he'd sat in one spot all day. Instantaneously one night he jumped up awaking me, I'd fallen asleep on the brown carpet. He made a call from the yellow phone that was secured to the wall. "I was wrong, I finally figured it out---"
The next day he went on a business trip while Mama prayed with the man in the peacoat.
Shortly after the call ended he had rejoiced.
Shortly after trip the church had burned.
The metal keys on the number pad that opened the chromium steel safe hadn't shown any signs of wear, I could not tell what numbers had been mostly used. Unlike the makeshift vault in the shed, it had been manufactured to secure anything inside, and was thief resistant. Someone had built a vault into the ground, I assumed Trenton could only have that ingenuity as well as to build the basement behind Yvonne's home. Multifaceted on all accounts, a true 11. What had he lacked? Even postmortem I knew I yet had to identify his flaw, what was his Kryptonite? His disposition was compounded with rich, pliant and malleable attributes, the alternate persona he'd created was incurable to the susceptible. I obliterated the intimidation and contradicted his mastery.
The endowment I'd inherited hadn't seemed as such, but more of a forfeiture in which I had been entitled. How would I operate an Orchard? I looked at the manifest reports and saw the different shipments to various regions for the beginning of the season, but now knew the difference in the apples as he requested. Why would I leave?
Inessential to the cause, Troy's noteworthiness had strengthened my unwavering belief---he wanted a Mama, I dared mentioning her but wanted to know her role, why was she yet adherent to Martin even after Troy's father was killed? They had an organization, I began to outline their relevance, the home would provide answers.
Martin would be away for a while and I would soon visit his home again, I just could not leave yet. What was behind the bookcase? I'd asked desperately, perhaps Troy was the reason I returned to the home in New Orleans, he'd refused to soothe my curiosity after mentioning it.
The volume of the law library was permeated with an enigmatic ambiance, my senses had become acute. Since my first entry into the dimly lit room, I'd been stimulated cognitively but also I'd become weakened in other proportions.
Why had I dreamt of Kerri's baptismal?
I hadn't remembered since the day the sun had shone that Sunday morning. Wringing wet he'd run from the pool and dropped to his knees in front of the congregation. Some of the pure could see and never returned. That evening the sky was darkened with clouds, they settled over the church before fiercely separating and rolling apart.
Daddy had been afraid to perform the spiritual cleansing on Kerri. In the blink of an eye her expression had changed while emerging from the water! She'd spake in tongues, it's message had been masked by the members' perception of the Holy Spirit. I'd heard it before, she would often mimic the saints as we played church, each time sounded as if the language was not unknown.
I'd seen her grimace face and Daddy had too before frantically throwing her back in the water. The bag Mama had twisted to protect her freshly pressed hair had come undone and floated in the baptismal pool, it was long cold and black. She'd had a tantrum after seeing him handle her so carelessly, she'd writhed in the water as if it burned. Daddy had seen something in her he could not cleanse, awkwardly the water in which I'd stood in line behind her warmed and begun to stir. I'd recently evaluated the nature of the inexplicable circumstance only to speculate about whose angel it was that had stirred the water, subsequently I'd tasted dismay in the back of my throat.
The lack of medication promoted the recollections, daily they became primitive and credited nothing as being coincidental.
The Devil's Decimal laid underneath the seat of the old Buick, I'd sagaciously acquired the knowledge of the symbols from looking at them while pretending to nap on the backseat. He would research discreetly.
As I could read, so could he, why had he even had the book? I couldn't find a copy anywhere online, as if he had written it himself.
The letters from Redd had been in a box at Daddy's house, he'd kept them but why had Terrell suggested he sent them to me? I'd received them as a teenager, he was angry about our correspondence. They had no relevance back then.
He'd even said "No one has a general tendency to read this shit!" The cause for the cleansings embellished his calling.
Why hadn't he destroyed them? He'd become infatuated with whether or not people could possess evil tendencies without being preemptive to the consequences and basically welcomed evil by showing scrutiny for its effectiveness on heedless individuals, disregarding I had practically studied the book with his dumb ass. The curriculum had brought on a concatenation of mishaps, but the reward hadn't been discerned, I'd reaped benefit unknowingly---be that as it may-- but why had I even been sanctioned to gain assets which led to profit? The Orchard would soon experience an increased turnover and I had Lawrence by the balls. What the fuck had they thought? I was hellbound anyway according to Percy Givens' ideology.
Finally, I'd found something interesting while yet researching the Devil.
My curiosity aggravated Troy, I'd awakened from a prolonged fainting spell, it had been attributed to the traumatic experience I had endured by them. Word traveled unbeknownst to me, the reporters greeted us as we left the hospital. I was a survivor.
Why hadn't they known I was a prisoner? Days had gone by, why hadn't they reported him missing? Who had he even left to mourn? One son and a wife.
I forecasted the forthcoming and impending occurrences before culminating Martin's desperation---not for money, but power. He hadn't been capable of humbling me and had no choice other than to side with the oppressor, why the fuck had he offered me what was already mine? I could not bow down and worship him and perhaps I was a traitor but Troy was free. Fuck him with a sick dick.
I'd only bowed down and begged for the father of my child. Steadfastly I'd become unruly but had known finally who Martin Poindexter was.
Brown---rather Keyon, looked forward to meeting and greeting. Why had I initially been under the impression he was the foe? I wanted to know who the dead husband was. Was that muthafucka dead yet?
Now fortified with advantage I stood in the closet door mentally trying to decide which shoes to wear out in the early December weather, I'd chosen the New Balance and proceeded toward the front door, Troy had gone, he hadn't planned to return for hours but was returning to pack. I'd had an uneasy feeling all day about what had taken place, there were definitely witnesses and the incident had been televised. A vigil had gone underway for the Fallen Special Agent before the funeral.
I'd suffered life threatening injuries and could not attend any of the ceremonies.
Brown delivered to me his engraved Federal Bureau of investigation badge.
The TCBY was a place I was familiar with so I said I would meet him there, surely he remembered where it was---it puzzled me, why had they called Trenton Breakdance? "The devil can't keep up," he answered before changing the subject. Why had he sent Lorraina the case files, since they had mysteriously shown up in her office as she implied, she'd even told me they would reopen the case...
"Carmella Long has been trying to bring down Martin Poindexter for years, she operates strictly by the book. When they came at Twan he started working with her but they couldn't bring him down," Keyon said.
He also stated he watched him destroy their mother Claudette. Trenton had become greedy, and believed bloodshed was needed to fertilize the ground that produced the trees before they returned back to dust as well as the sifted ashes of the mother could be fed to the enlightened to reverse their sight. Fine sifted ashes to counter consciousness of worldly intuition. He had seen Martin for who he was and vowed to stop his reign, the ongoing spiritual quarrel would continue---he'd lost the battle, how had he exposed his weakness? I'd dreamt as a child of Mama being thrown over a balcony and eaten by dogs after a sermon, in her fine fabrics.
Her blue pupils still in tact lying on the dirt.
Why hadn't Keyon inherited the trait? The most important question of all was why did Twan have to die?! I longed to see his children's faces just so I could look at him. Apparently they had been close, but since then he and Martin had fallen out, had he been disowned. The voice was loud and clear, the skepticism hadn't come as a surprise, I trusted no one.
I hadn't had to lay eyes on him to know he'd entered while I ordered peach yogurt. Contrary to my own expectations I wasn't temperamental, more so---open minded.
"Why would they separate the head from the body?"
How the fuck would I know? That had been his first question after sitting across from me, I looked up from my cup after sitting it down and hadn't even noticed he had even sat down. Certainly I had been daydreaming. Had he meant metaphorically or for real?
I didn't know if I could trust him or not, his character was mirrored in my perception as everyone else's, no one were really who they seemed to be. Fuck him too.
I felt the new phone Troy had bought vibrate, and I'd known it was him. 911 came through text---and after not responding, 3636 on the screen.
Brown monitored my expressions, I could peripherally see his yellow eyes---what had induced that particular trait? It had been the first thing I'd noticed about him, and had known not to look too long.
The smell of the melon yogurt immediately agitated my insides, no lemon no melon surfaced as my mouth watered---I'd even written it down on the napkin, forward and backwards coming to the same windup---nolemonnomelon. I now hated them both.
Brown giggled.
Painfully I blinked behind the large butterfly sunglasses, but had no time to regard my eye. I would soon be on my way to New Orleans, there was nothing that could be said to deter my intent and knew I had to for the sake of my unborn child. Kerri could not be saved---
We ended the visit and parted ways, my impression of him had been the same as before. I looked at the Badge of Dishonor and still wasn't convinced. Their beliefs had been absurd, I anticipated eating from the tree of life.
Why would someone separate the head from the body?
During my time away Trenton had grieved his sister who had been finally laid to rest, he had eliminated all potential beneficiaries of the land, but again, who was Jennifer?
Carlita's demise yet remained a mystery, I knew she had not committed suicide---if so, was she afraid? "She wasn't worthy to carry my seed nor was it predestined."
I'd made it halfway to New Orleans, my phone rang repeatedly as the messages poured in. Ignoring them I remembered the code to Martin's home, 0623, he had even chosen my birthday. The wiles of the devil.
The calls ceased for a period of time and as I crossed the causeway the water began to rush through my ears. I was greeted at Martin's door by my sister as if she'd expected me, she spake in tongues--- I stood entertained and unmoved before forcefully entering the home, Martin was gone.
I recognized her dialect by watching her lips, but could not hear her tone, the demon I'd seen almost 30 years before had returned, and she was its host. .