Secret Agent Minister

The tall, big-boned woman stood at the door of the leaning house, the colorful beads on her long dreadlocks bouncing against her ample arms and shoulders. She wore a brightly patterned silk caftan that swished each time she chuckled and smiled. And she smelled like vanilla and spice.

That was Lydia’s first impression of Kissie Pierre, code name, Woman at the Well. Lydia watched as the voluptuous Kissie grabbed Pastor Dev and hugged him so tightly, he nearly lost his breath. But he didn’t seem to mind. He returned Kissie’s exuberant hug with one of his own, a gentle smile on his face as he winked at Lydia over Kissie’s cocoa-colored shoulder.

“It’s good to see you,” Pastor Dev said as he came up for air. Then he turned to Lydia. “Lydia Cantrell, meet Kissie Pierre.”

“Mercy me,” Kissie said, grabbing Lydia by her arm, her big dark eyes widening with glee, her gold bangles slipping down her arm. “You sure are a pretty little thing.”

“Thank you,” Lydia said, the heat of that praise causing her to blush. “And thank you for…helping us.”

Kissie cluck-clucked that notion away. “Part of my job, honey-pie. That’s why I’m here. Now y’all come on back to the kitchen and let me get some decent food and strong coffee in you.”

Pastor Dev guided Lydia through the long, cluttered “club” part of the establishment. Lydia cast her gaze about, feeling as if she were in a forbidden zone. She saw reds and burgundies on the walls and in the furniture, plush Victorian sofas and dramatic Tiffany-style lamps, tassels and fringe in gold and bronze, and a huge white grand piano that sat in a prominent place by the floor-to-ceiling window in the front parlor. Across the squeaking, creaking worn wooden floor of the wide hallway, another room was filled with bistro tables and chairs and a gleaming mahogany bar along one wall. A huge sign running the length of the bar stated “Commit your work to the Lord, and your thoughts will be established.”—Proverbs 16:3.

“I just don’t get it,” Lydia whispered, the paradox of this seemingly decadent place running amok in her pristine mind. “I don’t see any alcohol behind that bar.”

“That’s the point,” Pastor Dev said into her ear. “It’s a cover, remember. The coffee bar works just fine. But Kissie makes it pretty clear that if you enter this establishment, it won’t be to drink liquor and carry on. She offers tea, lemonade and a full range of coffees, as well as all kinds of sweet treats. It’s more of a coffeehouse than a real bar, and her patrons know that.”

“But Kissie has her faith right out there for all to see, right along with her dreadlocks and her coffee and chicory,” Lydia retorted. “How can she get away with that and still run a blues club?”

“Kissie can be very persuasive. She’s like a preacher and a party girl all rolled into one neat package. Since she also lets wayward teens live here, she won’t allow any shenanigans. And that’s what makes everyone love her so much,” he said with a little grin. “Trust me.”

There was that request again. Lydia thought about that, thought about Kissie and wondered how many strange people she was going to have to trust before this was all over. Her notion of a proper Christian included a church dress and a set of pearls—not a bright orange-and-brown silk caftan, shiny gold hoop earrings and two gold teeth to match.

But then, maybe her notions were just a bit narrow-minded and preconceived. Kissie did have a brilliant, loving smile and she had helped lots of people to the Lord, according to Pastor Dev.

Plus, her coffee smelled divine and those cinnamon rolls she slapped onto gold-edged china did look too good to pass up. When she added two slices of crisp bacon, Lydia decided Kissie was her new best friend.

“Thank you,” Lydia said as Kissie handed her a cup of coffee and passed the cream. “I’m starving.”

“’Course you are, child.” Kissie glanced from Lydia to Pastor Dev, a serene smile on her face. Then she motioned for the teenage girl she’d called Jacqueline to leave the kitchen. Jacqueline gave them a blank look, but walked out of the room. Kissie waited a couple of seconds. “I’ve been briefed.” Then she shrugged toward Lydia. “SOP.”

“Standard operating procedure,” Pastor Dev clarified.

“With a special urgency, of course,” Kissie added, her voice low.

Lydia glanced up, amazed that the woman’s laid-back tone had changed to all business now. Watching Pastor Dev and Kissie, she could tell things were about to get serious.

So she took a long drink of her coffee and let out a sigh of relief. For some strange reason, she did feel safe here in Kissie’s Korner.

For now at least.

A couple of hours later, Dev peeked in on Lydia. She was sleeping in one of the dark-shaded upstairs bedrooms, her skin pale against the purple floral sheets and lavender satin comforter, her hair fanning out like golden-brown wheat against the shimmering pillow. Dev watched and listened, glad to hear her steady, peaceful breathing. Maybe she would get the rest she needed so much.

But there would be no rest for him.

So he headed downstairs to the room in the back that served as Kissie’s office. The room with all the computers and monitors and cameras. The official CHAIM room.

“How’s our baby girl?” Kissie asked as Dev entered the long, dark area that had once been a sleeping porch. Neither the sun nor the moon reached this place now. The area had been completely sealed off, a secret place hidden from most that frequented this establishment. There were no windows and a small door hidden behind a kitchen cabinet. Anyone who might notice would just think it was a storage room. Not even Lydia would see this dark corner.

“She’s fast asleep.”

Kissie nodded, causing her long braids to fall against her plump shoulder like fringe falling from an afghan. “Poor baby. This ain’t easy.”

“No,” Dev said, closing his eyes to his own fatigue. “I’m sure the food and the hot shower helped.”

“She’ll be okay. I got a man posted nearby, watching. The whole system is on high alert, of course.”

“Good. What’s the word from upstairs?”

Kissie smiled at his reference. It was a little joke amongst the CHAIM team, and a gentle reminder that none of them was really in charge. God was their main boss.

“Well, the higher-ups are not happy. They believe one of their own has turned rogue. There’s the law, and then there’s the law of CHAIM, you understand?”

“Only too well,” Dev replied, remembering his days as a full-time operative. One did not mess with the system. But apparently someone had.

“So do I have new orders?”

“To sit tight right now,” Kissie replied over her shoulder as she hit buttons and flipped switches. “You’ll receive word soon. But not here. The message will be posted at a different location. Probably somewhere else in the city.” She sat down in front of a flickering computer monitor. “So, let’s see the latest. We’ll look for any unusual activity out there.”

Dev watched as numbers and codes flashed by. “What if it’s Eli, Kissie?”

“Of course it’s Eli, honey,” Kissie replied. “No one else would dare break the CHAIM brotherhood. But Eli always was a bit of a renegade, even after he turned his life over to the Lord. It makes sense that he’d be the one.”

Dev ran a hand over his shower-damp hair. “Eli was one of us, one of the best. And because of me, he’s out there on his own now. I can’t decide if he’s truly gone insane, or if he’s just trying to get my attention.”

“Murder could indicate both.”

Dev stared at Kissie, the pain in her eyes matching what he felt in his heart. “I can’t believe he’d deliberately murder someone—even me. It just doesn’t add up. Whoever did this got the wrong man. That’s not like Eli. He’s more thorough. He wouldn’t kill another person just to get to me. He’d just kill me and get it over with. But Eli was—is—a good man. Or at least he was until I blew the whistle on his extracurricular activities and ruined his life.”