No Sin in Paradise Read Online Free PDF Page A

Dungy.” The man takes me by the arm before I even have a chance to protest. We cross the lobby and head toward the back of the room.
    I enter the conference room and the who’s who of ministers are in attendance. I see Pastor Christie from Higher Ground in Philadelphia, a former client. Then there is Pastor Richardson from Milwaukee, seventeen thousand members strong.
    I even see Pastor Gerald Watkins from Powerhouse Faith in Chicago, also a former client. The list goes on and on, and my curiosity grows. With this many prominent pastors on this small exotic island, I wonder if there is more going on than just an international convention. I could be wrong, but my track record suggests otherwise.
    Pastor William Bryant enters the conference room. He and Pastor Cole are as thick as thieves. No surprise as to why he is here. He has one of the two largest ministries in the country, and he is one of the main keynote speakers. Pastor Bryant is head and shoulders taller than any other man in the room, and he reinforces his stature with a tailor-made power suit. I’m sure he’s the envy of his fellow brethren with a full head of hair and only a few gray streaks.
    â€œGood afternoon, gentlemen, men of God. Today is a black day for us all. One of our generals of the Gospel has been sent home to be with the Lord, and it’s not his death that troubles me; it’s how he died. The devil is strong, but we as men of God are stronger.”
    â€œAmen,” we say in unison.
    Pastor Bryant has a voice that commands attention, and his vocabulary and diction are so precise that I hang onto every word.
    If I was still preaching, I would want to be able to command a crowd like Bryant. I know it’s shallow and self-conscious for me to say that, but I’m only human.
    â€œThe devil is trying to take us out, and the police do not have any suspects, but I know that God will help us to bring to justice the people responsible for this. For the family of Pastor Cole, let us pray.”
    I bow my head and think about Adele’s words regarding Pastor Cole. I’m not a prophet of doom, but to wake up and hear about a pastor being murdered is a sign of the end times in my opinion.
    â€œAmen,” we all say upon completion of the prayer.
    I look up to see the same short man that led me into the conference room is now whispering in Pastor Bryant’s ear. One can only guess what the short man is telling Pastor Bryant because immediately, Pastor Bryant’s eyes start scanning the room, and when his eyes lock onto mine, I know what the short man has been whispering to him. A smile creeps out the side of Pastor Bryant’s face.
    â€œOh, Minister Dungy . . . A word in private, please,” Bryant says.
    All the men turn around to look at me, and I have a look like I have just been called into the principal’s office. I emerge from the group and follow Pastor Bryant out of the conference room down the hallway. Bryant doesn’t break stride nor does he turn around to check and see if I am following him. He just keeps on walking until he arrives at a door at the end of the hallway. Bryant opens the door like he owns the place, and I close the door behind me. He goes into the minirefrigerator and pulls out a bottle of water.
    â€œDo you believe in serendipity, Minister Dungy?”
    â€œI believe in the scriptures when it says all things work together for the greater good.”
    â€œThe greater good,” Pastor Bryant says to himself. “What are the odds that you would happen to be on this island at the same time Pastor Cole is killed?”
    â€œAm I a suspect in this case?” I ask, not sure of the intentions behind Bryant’s line of questioning.
    â€œQuite the opposite. I was thinking more of an asset. Maybe even a saint.”
    I’ve been called many things; most of it I won’t even bother to repeat, but a saint would undoubtedly be the first.
    â€œLet’s cut to