Grain Journal - January/February 2009 - (Page 21) Northern Star II FICTION SERIES – PART 25 As part of his personal investigation into the death of his friend Russ Engle, Gil Maier has gone to attend Sunday services at the church of Engle’s partner, Detective Hal Washington, in a black neighborhood in Chicago’s South Side. Gil didn’t encounter the detective at Word of God Baptist Church, but he did notice a shiny new building behind the church that appeared to be a recreation center. He decided to approach the pastor after services to discuss the building. As the last chord of the last hymn died away, the congregation stood up and began exiting the pews. Rev. DuWayne Abernathy made his way along the side of the church to the rear exit. There, he stood shaking hands and chatting briefly with all of the congregants as they passed by. Gil got into line with everyone else. It moved very slowly, almost like the reception line at a wedding, but eventually, he found himself shaking hands with the pastor. Rev. Abernathy had a firm handshake and a look-you-straight-in-the-eye manner, but he did have a slightly surprised expression on his face. He probably wasn’t used to seeing many white guys from the countryside at his church. “So what brings you to Word of God Baptist, sir ” the minister asked. “Gil. Gil Maier,” the elevator manager said. “Mr. Maier,” Rev. Abernatry repeated. “Well, I’m not from Chicago, but I was interested in talking with you about that new building out back.” “The community recreation center, yes,” the pastor said. “I have relatives here, and one of them sent me a newspaper clipping about it,” Gil said. This was a bit of a stretch, but he imagined that one of the local newspapers might have covered its opening. If a church opened a recreation center like this in Monrovia, it would be front page news for weeks. but even in Chicago, someone would have written an article, for a neighborhood paper if not the Tribune or the Sun Times. “Yes, I’d be happy to talk with you about the center, if you could kindly give me a few minutes with the rest of my congregation,” Rev. Abernathy said. “Certainly,” Gil said. “I’ll be over there.” Gil walked across the parking lot and over to the twostory brick recreation center. The building was dark and appeared to be locked up, at least during church service hours. A short concrete stairway led up to the front entrance, and Gil noticed a small plaque next to the main entrance. It read, “THE HAL WASHINGTON MEMORIAL COMMUNITY CENTER. Funds donated by the Washington family and Goldberg Smith LLC, Chicago, Ill.” Gil’s jaw couldn’t help but drop for a second, before he composed himself and assumed his usual poker face. A detective in the Chicago Police Department might be reasonably well-paid, but there was no way a police gumshoe would be able to foot the bill for something like this. So it would make sense for the church member to approach a firm with deep pockets to make a charitable donation. But still, a futures brokerage that the detective’s partner had been investigating? That didn’t add up. Maybe this was what had sparked the interest of Internal Affairs. If so, Lt. Sharon Jones, the Internal Affairs officer undertaking her own investigation, might have a fit knowing that Gil was at Washington’s church. Or maybe not. Maybe that was the reason she’d had Gil’s impounded pickup truck returned to him. A footstep crunching on packed snow interrupted Gil’s thoughts, and he turned to see Rev. Abernathy approaching. “Welcome to our pride and joy,” he said. “Would you like a look around?” “Certainly,” Gil replied. The minister unlocked the door and held it for Gil. A short hallway led past some offices. “This has enabled me to move my office out of our house next door,” Rev. Abernathy said. “Not that I minded working out of my home, but with three little ones, I can get a lot more accomplished here.” Rev. Abernathy led Gil down the hallway to a large door at the end. Inside was a full Olympic sized swimming J/F GJ 21 http://www.grainnet.com/nsblog
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