Uncle Wallace was dead. I couldn't believe it. Especially not after the funereal. That's why I was aimlessly wandering around the outside of the church after the burial. The last place I wanted was to be inside with Aunt Pip and the family listening to people's well practiced sentences that they say when ever someone dies. A Glady (whoever) had the nerve to strut over to the table where I was crying with Mama and said out of the blue, "It will be okay you know?"
"Thank you Glady." Mamma nodded lightly.
Glady smiled, her wrinkled, black ,shiny face softened. "Wallace has gone to meet his maker."
"SHUT UP!" The words left my mouth before it had even fully loaded in my brain.
"Mame..."
I jumped up and flew out of the church leaving an ashamed Mama to deal with a stunned Glady. I knew what was coming to me as soon as we got home for speaking to my elder like that. As the pastor's wife, Mama never let anything slip past her from her three children especially NOT from the mouth ever! Resa was fifteen and she wasn't even allowed an Innocent darn! Lord knows how hard I had to learn to keep a watch over my mouth over the years...
" Mam?"
I jumped and turned. A very strange man was standing on the steps to the church. I blinked. Strange hardly covered for half of his lanky body being legs-kinda like a spider.
At-least he's black. Thought crossed my mind without me having to give it much thought. I had nothing against white people unlike almost everybody else I knew. Fact is, they usually tipped the best. And as Resa once put it, "my job is to serve people food and hope they gave a good tip for the effort, not judge skin color-period."
Most people I know are black and on the shorter side including me. Aunt Pip always says that I get my shortness from Poppa. I disagree as expected.
Anyhow, the stranger carried a brown brief case that out shined all the ones them rich business men down at The Eatery often had. He took the steps two at a time towards me and I noticed his brown lace up boots.
"I am looking for a Bart,-Pastor Bart?" He says licking his bottom lip.
"That so?" I snapped.
"Yeah, I'm..." he jerked a business card out of his white dress shirt pocket. "I am a detective,-Preston." He held a huge hand out to me with a cool smile.
I turned and started to walk away "My Poppa is in the church."
YOU ARE READING
Good Lord willin' (First Draft)
Mystery / Thriller...'"God Lord willin' we'll all see tomorrow."'
