Free STATE OF ANGER: A Virgil Jones Mystery Series (Detective Virgil Jones Mystery Series Book 1) by Thomas Scott Page B

everyone had safely left the building then burn it to the
ground.
    Virgil turned in a slow circle,
looking for the office area or an information kiosk and that’s when he noticed
two men approaching. They were both big and ugly. Their biceps bulged hard
against their matching sport coats. Though one was slightly taller than the
other, they looked almost exactly the same. Shaved heads, thick necks, bulging
muscles, and arms that seemed just a bit too long. Mouth breathers.
    The shorter one spoke, like maybe
the taller one didn’t know how. “Reverend Pate is in his office and is expecting
you. Follow us please.” The smaller of the two men took two steps forward and
motioned for Virgil to follow. The three of them walked through the lobby area
and then down a short corridor and into the administrative office area of the
complex and found Pate seated at his desk, on the phone. He motioned Virgil in
with an exaggerated circular arm movement then pointed to a chair in front of
his desk, then into the phone he said, “Yes, yes he’s here now. I’ll call you
later.”
    After seeing the size of the lobby
and its carnival-like atmosphere Virgil was surprised by the fact that Pate’s
office was no bigger than his own. It was decorated in muted tones, a contrast
so stark from the rest of the building Virgil was almost more amazed by its
utilitarian form and function than he was of the lobby just down the hall.
    Samuel Pate looked like a
televangelist, the way some people carry a look of the profession they
practice, like an airline pilot or a doctor. His hair was pure white and he
wore it combed straight back, each strand held perfectly in place by some type
of product that left a reflective sheen so thick it almost looked like a
translucent helmet. When he hung up the phone and smiled, his eyes held a
certain light that looked both welcoming and mischievous at the same time, as
if perhaps the way to heaven might just be through a lesser-known back door. He
wore a starched pink shirt with a white collar and tie, and the armpits of his
shirt were soaked through with perspiration, although the size and shape of the
stains were so uniform it looked as if they may have come from a make-up
artist’s spray bottle instead of his own sweat glands.
    Pate stood, but before he did he
affixed the metal bands of his arm crutches around his forearms, grasped the
handles, then pulled himself out of his chair. He came around to the front of
his desk, pointed to the chair with the end of one of the crutches and said,
“Welcome Detective. Please, have a seat.”
    They shook hands and when Pate
squeezed his fingers harder and longer than necessary, Virgil said, “That’s an
impressive grip, Mr. Pate. Please release my hand.”
    Pate chuckled as if caught in a
polite fib, the kind one might tell to save another of an unnecessary
embarrassment. “I prefer Reverend, if you please,” he said. “And I hope you’ll
forgive me. I’ve spent years moving around with the aid of these crutches. It
tends to build up one’s musculature, wouldn’t you agree? I often forget my own
strength. How exactly may I help you, Detective? My wife said you wanted to speak
with me about Franklin’s unfortunate passing.”
    Virgil noticed two things right
away: Like his wife, Pate had referred to the victim by his first name, which
was indicative of a certain level of familiarity beyond a business
relationship, and two, he had referred to Dugan’s murder as an ‘unfortunate
passing.’ Virgil decided to go for some shock value.
    “The victim was shot to death in
his own driveway, Reverend. The top of his head was blown off and you could use
what’s left of his skull for a gravy boat. I’d hardly call that an unfortunate passing.”
    Pate ignored the statement in its
entirety and said, “There is a war going on out there, Detective. I witness it
every day. The book of Revelation speaks of what is to come and the fate that
will befall those who choose to