Travellin' Shoes Page 13

  “This is very nice,” I gushed, hoping pride would make her tell me how she could afford all this furniture without my having to come out and ask. It didn’t.

  “Thank you,” was all she said as she took her lighter from her pocket and lit another cigarette. Although she did pick up the remote from the arm of her chair and lower the volume on the television a smidge.

  Viola Rutherford had once worked at St. Joe’s one automobile manufacturing plant, Tucker. Tucker cars were hand-made in St. Joe for over one hundred years. The plant only made about thirty cars per year and shut down in the eighties. Viola Rutherford used to flash a solid-gold lighter that she received when she retired. “Just showing off” was how Mama B referred to her. Today she used a cheap Bic lighter.

  “Did you hit the lottery? This is some really nice furniture in here, Miss Viola.” I continued to lay on the compliments, hoping she’d loosen up a bit.

  “Nice furniture isn’t a crime, is it?” Miss Viola wasn’t as terse as her words implied, but there certainly wasn’t a lot of warmth there either.

  “No, ma’am. Nice furniture certainly isn’t a crime. I guess that just depends on how it’s acquired.” I tried to keep my voice light but my meaning was clear. She chose to ignore it.

  “What brings you down our way, RJ? Slumming?” Miss Viola sneered.

  “I was hoping to talk to Tonya.”

  “What you want with her? She ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

  “No, ma’am. She hasn’t done anything wrong. I was just hoping I could talk to her. That’s all.”

  “She ain’t here. She’s still in Detroit, like I said the other day when you called.”

  “Any idea when you expect her back?”

  “No idea.”

  “Well, isn’t she in school?”

  “Got enough credits to finish early. She’s done with high school. Goin’ to college in the fall.”

  “I know. I heard how she got all those scholarship offers. You must be very proud of her.”

  For the first time since I’d arrived, Miss Viola relaxed. “I am proud of her. She’s a good girl.”

  “Yes, ma’am. Do you think I could call Tonya? If you give me the telephone number in Detroit, I won’t have to keep bothering you.”

  Miss Viola looked like she was going to ignore me. But eventually, she rattled off a number with a Detroit area code. I thanked her and hurried out. She didn’t rise or bother to see me out.

  Back in the car, I hurried to dial the number I’d been given but was too late. There was no answer. Miss Viola must have started dialing the moment my back was turned. I knew I wouldn’t get an answer. But I’d find her one way or another.

  Chapter Ten

  I’d barely sat down at my desk when my cellphone rang. I hadn’t even managed to get my greeting out before a hysterical Mrs. Green confronted me. Chris had been picked up by the police and she was beside herself. I promised I would find out what was going on.

  It didn’t take long to locate him. I wish I could attribute my quick results to excellent and diligent police work. But this was totally a matter of luck. As I was heading down the hall to the other wing of the building, I saw him sitting there. One quick word to Detective Cassidy and I learned Chris had been picked up as a potential witness. A stupid fistfight between two boys from the school had gone too far. One of the kids was in the hospital, badly injured, and could possibly lose the sight in one of his eyes. The parents wanted vengeance and Chris was brought in to tell what he knew. One look in his eyes and I could tell he was scared to the bone. Good. I asked Detective Cassidy to let him sit and stew for another thirty minutes while I picked up the phone to call his grandmother and relieve her mind. Before I could finish dialing, however, I spotted Reverend Hamilton. Mrs. Green must have been really scared. She’d called in the big guns.

  “Good afternoon, Rev—”

  “What’s wrong with you, locking up a fine boy like Chris Green? That boy is no more of a criminal than you were at his age—probably less.”

  Reverend Hamilton was angrier than I’d ever seen him. He took his shepherding role seriously, and I pitied anyone who went after one of his sheep.

  “Chris is only here as a witness. He hasn’t been locked up. He will be going home just as soon as we’ve got his statement. I was just about to call Sister Green to let her know.”

  He breathed a sigh of relief. “Good. Well, you may not find her at home. You’d better call the church. She and the other members of the Mother’s Board, Missionary Society, Senior Choir and the deaconesses are all at the church praying.”

  I saw a glimmer in Reverend Hamilton’s eye, and after a second he couldn’t contain himself and started chuckling. He looked me in the eye. “Are you being straight with me?”

  “Yes, sir. Chris will be home in time for dinner. I promise.”

  “Praise be to God. Well, don’t worry about calling. I better head back to the church and share the good news before they really get worked up. It was all I could do to keep them from marching to the jail. Can you believe they wanted me to call the NAACP, the Urban League, Reverend Jesse Jackson, Al Sharpton, and Bishop T.D. Jakes?” Reverend Hamilton laughed.

  “I didn’t know you knew Jesse Jackson, let alone any of the rest of them.”

  “I don’t.”

  “What did they think Bishop Jakes could do? He’s in Dallas. We aren’t even affiliated with his church.”

  “I have no idea. That was Sister Bethany’s suggestion. She said she saw him on television, and she thought he seemed like he could get some action because he’s been to the White House.”

  We laughed for a few minutes. Reverend Hamilton patted me on the back. “I better get back. God alone knows what those women are capable of doing. Heaven help the poor soul who tries to harm one of those prayer warriors’ loved ones. They would beat him to a pulp and pray for his healing just so they could beat him again.”

  I knew Reverend Hamilton was only half joking. Those were some serious women, and one of their babies was in danger. Reason was the last thing they were indulging in. Despite the humor, it was comforting to know that in times of distress, there were still people in this world who believed in the power of prayer.

  I pulled myself together and put on my game face. I needed to talk to Chris, who was now in a small interrogation room just outside of one of the holding cells. The room was close enough to hear the screams of inmates as they yelled to each other. One unhappy individual was even banging on the walls cussing and screaming. Between expletives against the judicial system and his unfair incarceration, he shouted his telephone number and asked for someone to call his mother.

  Chris sat with a look of sheer terror in his eyes. My intent was to let him see what running with the wrong crowd could lead to, but the look in his eyes showed me he wasn’t in need of rough treatment.

  “RJ, thank God. Please help me.” The sincerity was genuine. I wanted to teach him a lesson, but saw no need to carry things too far.

  “Come on.”

  “Seriously? I can go? That other cop, I mean, that other police officer told me to wait here.”

  “You gave your statement?”

  He nodded.

  “Do you want to stay?”

  “Heck, no. No. Absolutely no. I want to go home.”

  I held the door, and he grabbed his jacket and ran from the room.

  I had to turn my back so he couldn’t see me smiling. I waved at Detective Cassidy as we headed out to my car, but I needn’t have worried. Chris didn’t look to the left or the right. He put his head down and marched. Once in the safety of my car, he exhaled. It took another three blocks before he took his hands from his face, and I could hear him muttering under his breath, “Thank you, God. Thank you, Jesus.”

  I guess the scripture is true: “Train up a child in the way he should go: and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” (Proverbs 22:6.)

  I drove to a coffee shop I knew downtown. Sitting at the table, I trie
d not to notice how much Chris’ hands shook as he drank his coffee.

  He sat with his head bowed and just kept shaking it. “RJ, thank you for getting me out of that place, man. I couldn’t take much more.”

  “It’s not someplace you want to end up. That’s real life in there.”

  “I never want to go back. Not even for a visit.” Chris spoke with such feeling, I needed another drink to hide the smile I felt forming. He was a good kid, and I knew that if ever anyone was scared straight, he certainly was.

  “You weren’t even near the serious offenders. We keep them down in the basement.”

  Chris looked up to see if I was joking. “For real?”

  “I don’t even like going down there. You look in their eyes and you see nothing. There’s no feeling. No compassion. Nothing. They don’t care about anyone or anything. Those are the worst. Life has absolutely no meaning. Not theirs, not yours, no one’s.”

  Chris was still shaking, but the coffee was helping. “Man, I didn’t do anything.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  “If we thought you were guilty of something, you’d still be locked up. And trust me, if you were guilty, I would put you in that cell myself.”

  After a moment’s pause, a slow smile came on his face for the first time. But it didn’t last long. “Man, I was just standing there. Honestly, RJ, I swear to you, I didn’t touch anybody and didn’t have anything to do with that fight. Rico and T-Bone were just—”

  “Who?”

  “Rico and T-Bone. Just some guys I know.”

  “Chris, I know you don’t think adults have a clue what you’re going through at sixteen. But trust me, we do. You have to watch who you hang around with. Ricardo Miller darn near killed that kid. He’s not out of the woods yet. He’s still in intensive care and may never regain sight in one of his eyes. What were they fighting about?”

  Chris hung his head and muttered, “I don’t know.”

  I banged the table out of frustration, startling not only Chris but several others who were sitting nearby. I leaned closer. “Don’t even think about lying to me.”

  After a long pause, he ’fessed up. “Rico’s cousin is part of the Skulls.” At the look on my face, he got defensive. “I’m not a Skull. I swear to God, RJ, I’m not. I just wanted to fit in, I guess. Because I was hanging out with someone who was connected to them, people thought I was cool. They treated me different. Nobody messed with me. Nobody made fun of me. I don’t know … I just wanted respect.”

  I listened as Chris tried to work through his thoughts and feelings. I thought back to what it was like at sixteen, to feel like you didn’t belong. At that age, all I could think about was how much I wanted to fit in.

  “Chris, those boys are dangerous and can seriously ruin your life. Just being seen with them can get you killed.”

  “I know. I’m done. I swear. I never prayed so hard in my whole life. Sitting down at that jail, I just kept praying that if I got out of there, I wouldn’t have anything else to do with any of them. And I mean it. I never want to go back to that place.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “Do you think T-Bone is going to make it? It was horrible. Ricco just kept hitting him and hitting him. Blood was flying everywhere.” Chris unzipped his hooded sweatshirt and showed the blood splatter. “I kept screaming at him to stop. I couldn’t take it. I was glad when I heard the sirens. Everybody else ran. It was like … I was frozen. I couldn’t move. I just stood there.” A tear ran down Chris’ face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so scared.”

  “It’s over now. You’re okay. But you need to stay as far away from them as possible. Chris, there is a big difference between respect and fear. Do you really want people to be scared of you?”

  “I’m done. I promise.”

  “Glad to hear it.” Glancing at my watch, I decided I’d better take Chris home and relieve Reverend Hamilton of the ladies at the church.

  As we were leaving, Chris noticed the time. “My grandmother is going to kill me.”

  “She might try. You know she loves you, and there’s nothing she wouldn’t do for you. In fact, let me tell you what your grandmother’s been up to.”

  Chris had a good laugh at his grandmother’s antics. “Man, I didn’t even think my granny knew who Al Sharpton was.”

  I knew the image of seeing someone almost killed had left a mark on Chris. He might never get that image out of his head. That was definitely something I could relate to, especially now. As much death as I’ve seen, it still creeps back in the dead of the night when all my defenses are down. Laughing would be good for his soul. I wanted him to feel the weight of being involved with the wrong crowd, but at his age, his hormones and emotions could easily send him into a deep depression that wouldn’t be good either. Balance was important for all of us, but a good dose of laughter would help him get through the next few days and hopefully the nights when the images came back most vividly.

  At the church, Reverend Hamilton had apparently calmed the women down. Mrs. Green was kneeling at the altar in fervent prayer and didn’t even notice when we entered. Reverend Hamilton, usually reluctant to interrupt someone in prayer, tapped her on the shoulder and pointed to Chris, who was standing beside me at the back of the church. Upon seeing Chris, Mrs. Green burst into tears. At the sight of his grandmother’s distress, Chris rushed to the altar and threw his arms around her. They hugged and wept at the altar. The few ladies who remained shouted praise and thanks to God for Chris’ safe return. I caught Reverend Hamilton’s eye and gave him a thumbs-up as he mouthed a silent, “Thank you.” I nodded and slipped away.

  Leaving the vestibule, I went outside. That’s where I saw Mama B sitting on the concrete wall that surrounded the church porch.

  “I thought you went home.”

  “Was downstairs waiting for you.”

  I sat beside her on the porch. “How did you know I’d be here?”

  “When Reverend Hamilton told us you were taking care of everything, I knew you’d bring the boy home okay.”

  I felt a moment of silly pride at her faith in my ability to get results. But Mama B had always had faith in me. “You want a ride home?”

  “Yes, indeed. I’m bone tired. My knees aren’t what they used to be. I thought you were going to have to find a crane to get me up off that altar.” Mama B laughed her wonderful, full, hearty laugh that made her entire body shake.

  “You know you shouldn’t have been down there on your knees. I believe God would have understood entirely if you had prayed from the pew.”

  “Honey, I know God can hear me whenever and wherever I pray, but there are times in your life when you just have to get down on your knees and talk to the Lord. I guess it’s more for us than for Him. I can’t explain it, but it’s true just as sure as I’m sitting here. You’re too young to understand now, but someday you’ll know what I’m talking about. You just keep on living and you’ll see.”

  Mama B hoisted herself up, and I helped her down the church steps to my car.

  The short drive through the alley to Mama B’s house took less than five minutes. At the house, I was disappointed to see Paris wasn’t home from work yet. I considered accepting Mama B’s offer of dinner, but given the situation with Chris, I had left the station without shutting down my computer and had a few other files to clear up. So, I reluctantly took my leave.

  I still had a murder to solve.

  Chapter Eleven

  Back at my desk, I located an address in Detroit to go with the telephone number Viola Rutherford gave me. I debated driving up. Detroit was only a three-hour drive from St. Joe. But I decided against it. Instead, I called the metro police station in the Motor City. It didn’t take long to pass along my request, and within twenty-four hours, someone from the department was set to question Tonya Rutherford.

  Finally, I sat back and started in on the endless paperwork that was the bane of every policeman’s existence.

&n
bsp; I had just about decided to do something about the emptiness in the pit of my stomach and the crick in my neck when my cell rang. Noticing it was Paris’ number, I grinned.

  “Hello. How—”

  “Someone broke into my house. I went home to get some things and … they’ve trashed my house.”

  I was already halfway down the hall and out the door. “Paris, I want you to get out of the house and go wait in the car.”

  “There’s no one here. I—”

  “Paris, I just need you to do this. Did you call the police?”

  “They’re here. RJ, I’m fine. Really,” She was taking deep breaths and calming her nerves and her voice. “The officer made me wait outside while he checked the house. Don’t worry. I’m okay. I’m just shook up, that’s all. There’s a police car outside and a couple of police officers in the house. Trust me, whoever did this is long gone.”

  “Good. I’ll be right there. Don’t leave. Just wait for me.”

  “Okay. I will.”

  There was a police car parked in front of Paris’ house, and the neighbors had come out to see what happened. In the midst of all of this, I saw Paris standing outside. She had been crying and I gave her a handkerchief.

  Inside the house, I saw what had upset her. The house was trashed. Every drawer was pulled out. Every cushion was ripped. In essence, every potential hiding place had been exposed. Whoever broke into Paris’ house was looking for something and didn’t care who knew it.

  I wasn’t surprised to hear Harley’s voice behind me, since I’d called him on my way over.

  “Do you think they found what they were looking for?” It always amazed me how after working together for such a short time, we were thinking the exact same thing.

  “I don’t know. But we’ll find out soon enough.”