Episode II – Session I - Congregation
Episode II – Session I - Congregation
The corner booth at Golden Rule Barbeque was spacious enough for Willie, even with Brother Guyzell Cooper’s generous bulk taking up a good portion of the other side, and with that white cowboy hat taking up a little room beside him. However, despite the ample room, the waitress leaned her bosom over Willie in an unnecessary and more-than-friendly way as she gave Guyzell another unnecessary refill on his iced tea. Guyzell didn’t seem to notice, entranced as he was by the aroma of barbeque pork wafting over from the nearby grill and the menu outlining the myriad ways that pork could be delivered onto his plate. Not one to waste an opportunity, Willie flashed a casual nice-to-see-you-too-if-you-know-what-I-mean smile to the waitress as she headed back towards the cash register.
After she was gone, Guyzell leaned back and pretended to continue studying the menu, while Willie lit a Swisher Sweet. After a moment’s effort, Willie blew a pretty decent smoke ring, and then leaned in. “So let’s see it,” Willie asked in a conspiratorial whisper.
Guyzell set the menu up on the table like a screen to block the view of the rest of the restaurant, and opened his white dress jacket up ever so slightly. He was wearing matching concealed shoulder holsters that vanished into his bulk under the dress jacket. On one side, a .44 Magnum; on the other, a tattered pocket Bible.
Guyzell closed his jacket before the next waitress came by. He patted his breast pocket as he spoke. “And now I keep a flask in this pocket, too.”
“Me too,” Willie nodded with a smile.
“Um…mine’s filled with holy water,” Guyzell explained with a slight frown.
“Oh…yeah…that works too.” Willie nodded, and sheepishly took another sip of his sweet tea. He looked out the window into the parking lot and wondered aloud, “So…Joe oughta be here soon. I know I saw him at the church.”
“I’m sure he’ll be along shortly, Wilson,” Guyzell offered soothingly. “So, you were saying at the church that you have been blessed with good fortune lately?”
Willie smiled gratefully, and nodded in agreement. “I really have, preacher. I feel like, for the first time in a while, I got my mojo back, you know? I mean, you know I used that money to get my ride and my shotgun out of hock, so I don’t have to rely on Gramms to give me no more rides everywhere. Hell, I even got my membership back at my gym this week.”
“Well that’s wonderful to hear, Wilson,” Guyzell seemed genuinely happy for him. “And you have been seeing any more of that young lady from the Sheriff’s office?”
Willie nodded and smiled as he leaned back into the booth, “Yeah, her…among others. I tell ya, preacher, except for the whole ‘voodoo dude in my head’ thing, I’m doing really good.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing, it’s a long story. I’ll tell ya later. So…how are things at the church? That was a big crowd you had in there this morning.”
Guyzell beamed again, this time with pride. “The Church has been going through a strong period lately too, so I certainly can't complain. I even managed to buy one of those new digital high-dollar cameras for taping the services with. I tell ya, thank the Lord for those love offerings!”
“Amen to that, preacher. I was just thinking---”
Willie was interrupted by a screeching sound from out in the parking lot. He turned to look out the window just in time to see a convertible Jaguar come tearing through the parking lot, fishtailing and spinning in a complete circle before coming to a halt in a cloud of dust just a few feet from the window. The driver was wearing a dark beret, mirrored sunglasses, a black leather jacket, and a ridiculous red scarf that flew out behind him and extended all the way back to the trunk of the car.
Willie sighed and turned back to Guyzell. “Well, Joe’s here.”
Guyzell raised an eyebrow, “That’s Joseph? Where did he get that car?”
Willie shook his head and rolled his eyes, “It’s a James Bo--- no, you know what? I’ll just let him tell you.”
The little bell jingled as the front door of the restaurant opened up, and Joe waddled in. He was wearing a dirty tee-shirt with some Japanese cartoon on the front of it, and Willie could see that the leather jacket he had been wearing in the car was actually a full length leather trench coat. Considering that this was the sixth of July, and the temperature was hovering somewhere in the eighties, Willie’s first thought was that that coat must be broiling. His second thought, however, was that Joe was probably wearing the jacket to hide a gun, which he couldn’t blame him for, really.
Guyzell waved him over and Joe smiled and nodded to the table. Willie noticed something in that smile that worried him. Joe looked a little ragged. Come to think of it really, Joe had looked a little bit worse every time Willie had seen him over the past few weeks. On this particular morning, he had dark circles under his eyes, and his hair looked like he had given himself a bad haircut while drunk the night before. It didn’t take Willie’s considerably impressive detective skills to figure out that Joe had been spending a little too much time with that magic book of his.
Willie considered saying something, then decided he didn’t really have any right to ask questions. If he had an ancient voodoo dude living in his head, who was he to judge how anybody else was living their life?
The booth cushion lurched upwards for a moment as it compensated for Joe plopping down on the other side. The waitress came by to drop off some water and a menu (and to brush up against Willie again) before anyone said anything.
Guyzell began, “Well, good to see you Joseph. How has your week been?”
“Cool, cool. The shop is like, insanely busy since… well, for the last couple of months. I mean, I’ve never been this busy before. I’m even putting together plans to do a convention sometime this year. I’m gonna call it the Necro-Comic-Con. It’s gonna be huge…”
Brother Cooper started to ask another question when Joe interrupted him, “Speaking of which, preacher, do you do any of that 'faith healing' stuff at your church?”
Brother Cooper opened his mouth once, then closed it again, then opened it slowly, “Well, uh, no, Joseph…at least not yet. Why do you ask?”
“I’m losing my hair,” Joe explained, and lifted his cap to reveal a small bald spot.
Brother Cooper paused, clearly not even remotely sure what to say in response. Fortunately for him, Willie was there. “Say, Joe, Brother Cooper here was asking about your car?”
Joe grinned from ear to ear, “Yep! I’ll show it to you after we eat. It’s a collector’s item. It’s the Jaguar XK-something-something. It’s the official James Bond Fortieth Anniversary Edition. I got it off of e-bay. And did you see my new jacket? It’s the official Matrix collector’s edition, just like Neo wore. And this is my driving scarf.”
This time it was Guyzell’s turn to interrupt. “Joe, how did you pay for all of these things?”
Joe grinned. “It wasn’t too bad, since I had the reward money for a down payment. The car I think cost me eighty-four thousand and---”
Willie just about exploded, “What? God-da…uh…” He stopped himself from cursing in front of the preacher.
“God has blessed him, hasn’t he, Wilson?” Guyzell offered smoothly. “That is a mighty fine car you got yourself there, Joseph.”
“Thanks, preacher,” Joe grinned.
The waitress came over, and orders were placed. Willie felt a little silly ordering a simple barbeque sandwich after Guyzell ordered a jumbo plate with extra sides and Joe ordered four fried chickens, a coke, and some dry white toast.
While waiting for the food to arrive, Joe started talking. “So I got this email from some guy I don’t know. Can you find him, Willie, since you’re like a detective?”
Willie smacked his own forehead, “Aw, hell, I just remembered I gotta go somewhere. My cousin called me at six this morning with some rush job while I'm trying to get ready for church. Hang on. ”
Willie yanked his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and speed-dialed his cousin Gerald at the office. Gerald was yelling when he answered the phone, “Willie! Where the hell are you?”
Willie yelled right back into the phone, “I’m getting some work for the agency…and I had to go to church.”
“So you don’t want to work, is that it? You don’t want to keep your job?”
“Cousin, let me get some lunch. Then I’ll come in and we’ll talk about it. I’ll even bring you some ribs. You want some ribs…and some sweet tea?”
Gerald’s stomach always won out over his temper. “You know I do. But you better be here by two o’clock, damnit!”
Willie flipped his phone closed and tucked it back into his jacket. Joe started in again as soon as the phone was closed. “Did you ask him about the email address? I gotta find out about this thing.”
Willie gave Joe a hard stare, “So, you are contracting me, as a licensed private investigator, to find out background information on this person, right?”
Joe furrowed his brow, “Huh?”
“You got to say that for it to be legal, for me to access the records to find the guy.”
Brother Cooper caught on and nodded to Joe, “Just say yes, Joseph.”
Joe chewed on his bottom lip for a second, “Um…how much do you charge?”
Willie rolled his eyes again, “For you, Joe, for this job, the charge is a rack of ribs, an order of onion rings, and a sweet tea.”
Joe considered for a moment. “How much can I get for just one rib?”
Willie was exasperated, “This, from a man who just bought a new Jaguar?”
Brother Cooper came cheerfully to Joe’s defense, “Well, he does have to put gas in it…”
Joe grimaced and reluctantly agreed to pick up the lunch check. “Alright, his name’s Jack Sanders. I’ll get you his email address and give you a copy of the email tonight.”
Willie agreed with a smile, “Alright, I’ll check him out this afternoon. So what did his email say that’s got your panties in a knot, anyway?”
Joe shrugged, “He just was asking about some comic book subscriptions, and…” Something suddenly occurred to Joe, and he reached into his jacket and pulled out his cell phone. He speed-dialed a number and motioned for quiet at the table.
. . .
Inside the Griffon Comics and Games Shop, Ronny Goodman was having trouble. He had just opened the store for the afternoon, and the place was a mess. On the floor in the games section, someone, presumably Mr. Empire, had created a large house of cards. Except, instead of using cards, they had used copies of various gaming rulebooks. The house of books was five stories tall, and appeared to be made entirely from copies of the Book of Vile Darkness, Unearthed Arcana, and a couple of other related books. On the top, Ronny recognized Mr. Empire’s favorite book, a custom version of the Necronomicon that even had his own name embossed into the front cover.
Ronny sighed and shrugged. Mr. Empire was a good boss, he guessed, but he was definitely a little eccentric. For instance, Ronny sure didn’t get the point of this weekly ritual he had with this book. At some point almost every week, Ronny would open up the shop to find that Mr. Empire had hidden his copy of the Necronomicon somewhere in the store, and he would expect Ronny to find it, clean up any associated mess, and put his prized book back in the safe. And he always acted like he didn’t know anything about it. Maybe he was just trying to freak Ronny out so he wouldn’t keep asking for a raise.
Maybe he was just crazy.
Ronny obediently got out a stool to stand on, and pulled the “Joe Empire’s Necronomicon” from the top of the skillfully stacked books. He carefully carried the prized book back across the room to the safe under the counter and dialed in the combination (17-0-1 was this week’s combination, after the call numbers of the Starship Enterprise, as Mr. Empire had explained to him.) He then pushed aside the various other items and put the book inside. At the same moment as when he closed the door to the safe, the house of books collapsed with a soft clatter across the room.
Then the phone rang. With a heavy sigh, Ronny answered in his famously squeaky voice, “The Griffon, Comics and Games Shop! This is Ronny! How can I help you?”
Ronny recognized his boss’s voice instantly, which was good, because Mr. Empire never allowed his name to be spoken over the telephone. “You gonna wash my car today?”
Ronny snapped to attention, despite being alone in the store and no one being able to see him, “Yes sir! I’ll get on that shortly, er, immediately, sir! Um…that is, once your car is here, of course, sir!”
“Hmmm…right. Did you set up a subscription for a Sanders?”
“Subscription to what, sir?”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Comic books?”
“Not that I know of, sir. There’s no Sanders on the list.”
Ronny could hear talking on the other end of the line. It was muffled, but it sounded like Mr. Empire asking someone else “What kind of help did you get me?” and then someone else responding, “god-fearing help…the best kind there is.” A moment later, Mr. Empire was back on the line, “Alright, never mind, you’re doing a great job…”
Ronny’s voice cracked sharply, “Does that mean I get a raise, sir?”
There was a sharp hiss on the other end of the line. “What? I can’t hear you…you’re breaking up…” Then the line went dead.
Shoot. Mr. Empire’s phone always seemed to go dead like that whenever Ronny brought up getting a raise.
. . .
Brother Guyzell Cooper was starting on his second slice of pie. He probably shouldn’t have ordered a second piece, but Guyzell figured, if the Lord had not intended for him to eat this pie, he would not have made it taste so good. He savored the first bite, and then eyed Joe, “So, Joseph, why did you ask about whether I was sleeping well?”
Joe shrugged and set into his own pie, “I dunno, I just had a lot of nightmares lately.”
Guyzell nodded and took a sip of his coffee. “What about?”
Joe shrugged again. “You know, those nightmares where you wake up screaming and p*$$ing in your pants.”
Guyzell choked on his coffee and sputtered for a minute. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and tried to continue, “Um…night terrors? Sure, Joseph…”
Joe nodded, “Right…and then you cough up blood….”
Guyzell was speechless.
Willie grinned mischievously across the table, “Yeah, I knew a chick that did that one time. She was into whips and stuff like that…”
Guyzell cleared his throat. “I don’t know which of you two to worry about more.”
Willie grinned a little wider, “Hey, preacher, I was just joking. I don’t know about him, though. When did this all happen, Joe?”
Joe finished his slice of pie. “I dunno…off and on for a while now. Last one was a couple of nights ago.”
Guyzell could see that these nightmares were taking a toll on Joe. He looked like had not had a good night’s sleep in a while. “Well, what are the dreams about, Joseph? Did they have anything to do with a Medallion?”
Joe shrugged, “I don’t remember, really. Just kind of unexplainable horror…”
Guyzell gazed over at Willie, “How about you, Wilson? Sleeping well?”
Willie nodded seriously, but still with half a grin, “Yep, preacher. But to be honest, I ain’t slept alone in a while, so…”
Guyzell rolled his eyes and cleared his throat. “Well, I had a really strange dream myself last night. A nightmare you might say.”
Joe perked up, “Really? Just one nightmare?”
Guyzell nodded, “Yeah. I been sleeping right poorly lately, but that’s the first nightmare I can recall.”
Willie shook his head and lit another one of his little cigars, “Are you guys all right? I mean, really, if there’s anything I can do to help…”
Joe raised an eyebrow, “Can you get sleeping pills?”
Willie rolled his eyes and blew a smoke ring out across the restaurant. “Sure, ask the black man about drugs. I see.”
Joe shrugged innocently, “Well…yeah”
Guyzell interrupted before Joe could embarrass himself further. “In my dream I was late for church. When I got there, the services had already begun, and there was an old man there who was leading my congregation against me, and telling me that I was too late.”
Willie and Joe were silent for a moment while they tried to digest and interpret the dream.
Guyzell tried to think of any other details he could remember. “Oh yes, and he was wearing a black cowboy hat.”
Joe nodded solemnly, “Ah…so he was the bad guy then.”
