CHAPTER SIXTEEN - Businesswoman

This is Chapter 16 of Lanterns of Babylon. If you would like to read the story from the beginning, please click on the pink tabs above.

“As you can see, the walls need painting and we probably need to get a new a/c unit.” Janie pointed out. Cory and Janie fought through the dust of the old warehouse. Janie used a key to get into the office. The place smelled like mildew. It was hot and Cory could hear rats in the walls.

“This was the main office,” said Janie. She opened up the rusty, portable refrigerator. It was empty. “Good. I was afraid they had left food in here.”

 Cory held her nose. “Smells like it’s still in here.”

“A little,” said Janie as she waved the air. Well, what do you think?” Cory walked over to the sink and turned on the faucet. There was a pop of air and the pipes shuttered as brown water came out in sporadic bursts.

“You didn’t have the water turned off?” 

Janie shrugged. “I guess not. I kept getting a water bill, and since it wasn’t too much, I figured it would be cheaper to keep it on, then to get it started back up for a new tenant.”

 Cory nodded. “Good thinking.” 

At first, Janie looked surprised, then beamed at the unexpected praise. “I did good?”

“You did perfect.”

“So what do you think Cory?”

Cory made a quick mental assessment. This property wasn’t in Beverly Hills, but it was definitely worth a lot more than the thirty thousand dollars that the real estate agent was offering Janie.

“I think I’d like to go visit this Mr. Devaney, the real estate agent.”

Devaney Realty was located on Temple, near downtown. Cory had Janie make an appointment during the morning hours. She found that in most cases, it was the best time to talk to people, especially since she was wearing a blond wig, sunglasses and special make up.

When she drove up to Janie, who was waiting on the corner, Cory had to honk, because Janie had not recognized her.

“I didn’t realize it was you,” said Janie as she got into the car. “Nice suit.”

Cory had a makeup artist give her red blotches and blemishes on her left cheek and forehead. She also dressed in a very business-like suit. No-nonsense kind of stuff. Janie held the sunglasses on Cory’s head over her eyes and peered at the makeup job.

“It looks real. Now tell me again why you’re in disguise?”

 Cory laughed since she hadn’t told Janie about the makeup. “I don’t want Mr. Devaney to recognize me. Sometimes I can walk around the mall and no one says “boo”. Other times, I’ll be shopping or getting gas and everybody knows me. Especially when a movie I’ve done has just been shown on TV.”

“And you don’t want Mr. Devaney to recognize you?”

“No, I want him wondering who I am.”

“But why?” 

Cory pulled out the sheet of paper that Janie had given her. It was the letter from Devaney saying that he would like to buy the warehouse for thirty thousand dollars. “Here’s why. We have it in writing on his letterhead an offer of thirty thousand dollars. When we go in there, don’t introduce me. Let him wonder who or what I am. And then you’ll ask him how much he thinks that property is worth.”

“But we already know,” said Janie.

 Cory shook her head. “He offered you thirty thousand, but I have a feeling he’ll give you a higher figure. He might think I’m another real estate agent or maybe even your lawyer, and he’ll think twice before he gives you some song and dance.”

“But what if he asks you who you are?”

“He won’t. He will be intensely curious about me, but he won’t say a word.”

“You aren’t going to say anything to him?”

“The less I say, the better. For that matter, the same applies to you. Just go in there, shake his hand, and after an exchange of pleasantries, ask Mr. Devaney how much he thinks the warehouse is worth. That’s all you have to do.”

When they were ushered into Devaney’s office, Cory saw the man sizing her up, even though he was shaking hands with Janie.

“Good to meet you, Mrs. Lambert.”  He looked at Cory, inviting an introduction, but Janie did not take the bait. Good girl. He indicated a seat across from his desk.

“Thank you, Mr. Devaney.” As they sat, Devaney gave Cory a curious nod. She could tell by his expression that he didn’t want anyone else in the room except Janie Lambert, but there was nothing he could do.

“So Mrs. Lambert, have you thought about selling your property to us?”

“I just have one question Mr. Devaney. How much would you say that property is worth?” Cory was proud of the way the meek Janie made direct eye contact with Mr. Devaney. He looked at her for a stunned instant, then his eyes shifted to Cory, who was looking at him evenly through her sunglasses. Then he looked down at his desk.

“I would say…about a hundred thousand,” he said quietly. 

Cory and Janie leaned forward. “What was that Mr. Devaney?” Janie asked.

“About a hundred thousand dollars,” he said a little louder.

Cory gave Janie a sidelong glance. Janie’s face registered nothing, but her hands that lay on her purse were shaking. The woman was speechless at the figure Devaney had given. Cory finally spoke up.

“Thank you, Mr. Devaney. We’ll call you if we decide to deal with you.” By the look on his face, she knew he had gotten her message. As Cory hustled the mute Janie out of his office, he knew he would never hear from her. And he knew he wasn’t getting his hands on that property.

The jailhouse smelled like ammonia. The acidity burned his eyes as Paul made his way to the visitor’s area. After signing in, he had to submit to a second search. He knew the routine as he emptied his pockets and put the contents in a tray. He then walked through the sensor under the stern eyes of a prison guard.

This place could use some smiles, he thought. And it wasn’t just the prisoners…even the guards looked unhappy. He was buzzed through a narrow entry and waited for the door behind him to close. When he heard the click, he opened the door in front of him. This led him into an ample room of long tables and a TV set. It reminded him of the sterile cafeteria at Granger Christian College, except at Granger, they didn’t have a television set.

There were people talking to their incarcerated friends and relatives dressed in orange. Paul went to the far end of the fifth table. This was usually where he met Senta, unless it was too crowded. Then, they would have to stand next to the wall and talk.

“14768!” was the number called over the loud speaker.

A few minutes later, Senta came through a door at the other end of the room, accompanied by a guard. She was not cuffed, but she held her hands in front of her like a pair of invisible cuffs were on them.

Paul stood up when she got there. He wanted to embrace her, but she stiffened as he stood.

“Hey kiddo. How ya doing?”

“It’s a barrel of laughs,” Senta said, unsmiling. She swatted at a fly that buzzed around her face. “You bring any cigarettes?”

“Sorry. Fresh out,” said Paul. He never brought her cigarettes. “I might have some Dentyne.” He felt into his pockets. 

Senta shook her head and stretched. “Nah, keep ‘em.”

Senta Bergstrom looked like a broken woman. Her hair and eyes had no luster. Sometimes she came out stoned. Even her teeth were turning yellow. It looked like she’d given up.

“You know Senta, another guy named Paul was in prison once. And he did a lot of good. He was a real world shaker.” 

She looked at him dully. “I don’t know why you come to see me after what I did to you.” 

Paul reached across the table for her, but she pulled her hands away. “I forgave you, Senta.”  Her head started to roll to the side before she straightened up. Her eyelids fluttered. “Are you high on something?”

“Oh yeah,” she said sleepily. “I’m flying.” 

Paul didn’t know what to say. He just didn’t know how to help her. “Senta, listen to me…I know how you feel about religion. You think it’s square and corny.” She suddenly let out a laugh that sounded like a shriek. Several people nearby turned their heads.

“Paul, using words like “square” and “corny” is square and corny.” She slid down in her seat laughing. Her nose began to run, but she didn’t wipe it off.

 Paul ignored her outburst. “And I also know you hate yourself, but Jesus is real. And He’s a great and powerful force.”

“Like the great and powerful Oz?” she cracked.

He continued gamely on. “All you have to do is let Him into your heart. He doesn’t hate you. I don’t hate you.” For a moment, she focused on him. “Jesus loves you Senta. He’s right here with you and He can help you.”

Senta looked around the crowded room, searching for a face. Her eyes stopped on a prisoner she knew as Pam. Pam’s husband had brought their eighteen-month-old baby to the prison for a visit. Pam was bouncing the baby on her knee. Senta thought about the baby that never was.  Had it been a boy or a girl?

“You might have forgiven me Paul, but your God can’t forgive me.”

“Why?”

 She slowly shook her head. “You are so innocent Paul. So blind. I’ve done things…” She couldn’t finish the sentence.

“God forgives all sins, Senta.”

“I don’t believe that. No one is that good. But if this God of yours knows everything, He knows what I’ve done, right?”

“Yes.” 

She gave him a lazy, triumphant smile. “Then He’s not going to forgive me. Ever.” 

Paul took out a small Testament and pushed it across the table. “Here. I know you’ve got time to read. Just read Mark 11:25. That’s all.” She looked at the white Testament with the gold cross on it.

“Is it ticking?”

 He laughed. “It’s a time bomb alright…exploding with all sorts of good stuff.”

“There’s not a hacksaw in it, is there?”

“No,” he said soberly. “But read it and it’ll set you free in more ways than you can count.”

 Senta looked over at a nearby guard who had the name “S. Jensen” on her uniform. “Miss Jensen?” The guard looked over at her. Senta held up the small Bible and looked at Paul. “Miss Jensen has to approve this.” The guard came over and took the Testament. She flipped through the pages, checking to make sure it didn’t have any illegal contraband inside.

“This looks harmless,” she said. “You can have it.”  Miss Jensen handed it back to Senta. Paul nodded to the guard gratefully.

“You don’t have to come see me Paul. I’m going to be here for twenty more years.”

“You were sentenced for twenty years. You’ll be up for parole in seven.” She gave a bitter laugh and stood up, stuffing the tiny Testament in her shirt pocket.

“I’ll be an old woman before I get out of here. Goodbye Paul.”

She motioned to the guard, who unlocked the door that led to the cells. Miss Jensen escorted Senta away. Paul sat at the table for a few moments and prayed.