by Randy Alcorn
Clarence shook his head at the senselessness of it all.
“So I’ve been thinking about your sister. Same situation. Nothing makes sense, no possible motive. As Sherlock Holmes used to say, once you eliminate the possible, whatever’s left, no matter how improbable, is the truth.” He looked at Clarence. “Holmes was a great detective too.”
“I know who he was, Ollie. I’m wondering what your point is.”
“My point is, the killers got the wrong house. They were gunning for someone else.”
“Who else?”
“Don’t know. But I’m doing background checks on the houses on both sides and across the street. If we can figure out who they were really after, it’s the key to solving this thing. If I know the real target, I’ll find out who the perps were.”
They talked another five minutes, then Clarence said, “I need to ask you more about gangs—for personal reasons.”
“Okay. Shoot.”
“Gang clothes,” Clarence said. “Hats and stuff. I know the schools have dress codes. Can’t wear gang threads.”
“Right. But the kids just get creative. They write little things inside their baseball caps and on their undershorts which show up when they sag.”
Clarence halted, deep in thought. “Ollie, how much time do you have?”
Ollie looked at his watch. “Don’t have to be back for another hour.”
“Can we run by my house? I need to show you something.”
“Okay. Sure. Let me grab something to go.”
They drove quietly, Clarence tense the whole way but noticeably tenser as he drove up to Dani’s house. Clarence startled Geneva with the unexpected visit. He kissed her, introduced her to Ollie, and led the detective into Ty’s bedroom. He opened up his bottom drawer and showed him some plastic tips, some cut glass, a glass drill bit, and some small pieces of sandpaper.
“What’s all this stuff, Ollie?”
“Tools of the tagger. Your nephew’s a graffiti artist.”
“You saying he’s doing vandalism? I’ve never seen any spray paint.”
“Probably keeps it hidden in the garage or at a friend’s or something.”
“Look at this.” Clarence flipped through the pages of a notebook filled with sketches.
“It’s a piece book,” Ollie said.
“A what?”
“Taggers use them to practice their graffiti style or plan murals or record pieces they’ve done.” Ollie pointed at a page in the book. “The R6C means he’s tagging for the Rollin’ 60s Crips. Looks like here they were planning a bombing run, where they saturate an area with the names of the crew or the gang. And here they did a slash run—see where they cross out the names of rivals? These are Blood sets, and Frog is one of the names they were going to slash. Also serves as a scrapbook. Your nephew’s got talent. Too bad he’s using it to deface property.”
“Well, he’s not going to get away with it. You think I should get the police involved?”
“What can the police do? If we don’t catch them in the act, it’s secondhand, old news. This has to be community enforced. If the neighborhood didn’t tolerate it, it wouldn’t happen. We’ve got our hands full with beatings and robberies and murders. Spray painters aren’t real high on the priority list. This is something that needs to be handled by parents. Or in your case, guardians. At least this book tells you what to look for. I’d go find it on some walls, then make him buff them. Make him clean them up. And make him apologize to the property owners.”
Clarence went over to Ty’s dresser and picked up the blue baseball cap. “This is Ty’s. I told him he couldn’t take it to school. I assume this is gang stuff, but he won’t admit it. What does it mean?”
Ollie looked at the crossed out B, followed by the number 187, and whistled. He examined the cap, inside and out.
“B is for Blood.”
“But…you said he’s been taggin’ for Crips, right?”
“Right. That’s why the B’s crossed out. It’s a way of…dissin’ Bloods.”
“But what’s the 187 mean? A street in L.A. or something?”
“Nope. It’s a reference to the California penal code.”
“Huh?”
“It’s the code number of a particular crime.”
“What crime?”
“Murder.”
Clarence stared in disbelief.
“You see the same thing inside the cap here,” Ollie pointed. “This B/K? That’s Blood Killer. The P/K here is Piru Killer. This is worse than graffiti, Clarence. It’s beyond wannabe. Your nephew’s telling everybody he’s a Blood killer—that he’ll do a 187 on any Blood he can.”
Clarence heard Ty rustling around his room. He opened the door.
“Lookin’ for your cap? It’s history. I tossed it.”
Ty shot him an incredulous how-dare-you look. “Ain’t got no right.”
“I know what it means, Ty, the 187. You’re saying you want to kill other kids, just like somebody killed your own mama and sister? What’s wrong with you, boy? You’re never wearing a cap like that again, you hear me? Never!”
Ty looked at him with disdain.
“And I don’t want you wearin’ those saggers with your underwear hangin’ out.”
“Everybody do it.”
“You’re not everybody. And talk right, would you?”
“Ain’t talkin’ like dat no more.”
“You mean the guys you’re hangin’ with make fun of you, say you’re talking white?”
Ty nodded, surprised his uncle understood.
“I got that all the time too. Well, now the dudes that made fun of me are dead or jailbirds or cluckheads, and I’ve got an education, a job, and a family.”
“GC say you can get an education from the streets.”
“Yeah? And you can get a vocabulary from a bathroom wall too, but it won’t get you very far. Who’s GC?”
Ty shrugged as if it wasn’t important.
“I hear you’ve been taggin’, Ty. Don’t deny it.”
“We killed a few walls. Not too many.”
“One is too many.”
“You don’t get it.”
“Then help me get it.”
“I got the rep. They say I fresh. Like my style. I def.”
“You’re deaf, all right—you’re not hearing a word I say. I’m going to take you with me, we’re going to find your artwork, and you’re going to apologize to everybody whose property you’ve messed with. And you’re going to buff it all off. You understand me?”
Ty looked down, knowing his uncle would follow through with the threat.
“And that’s just the beginning. I want you to straighten up—stop getting in fights.”
“Ain’t gonna be no hook. Not gonna do dat no mo’.”
“Speak English, will you?” Clarence said. “What’s a hook?”
Ty rolled his eyes, as if his uncle were an ignorant fool. “An easy mark. A coward. The kinda dude dat lets ’em jack yo’ lunch money and give you a fat lip and never does nothin’ to get some get back.”
“Sometimes you’ve got to take it,” Clarence said, “because you want a better life than they do. Look where you’re headed, Ty. You’re on a road. That road will take you somewhere, one step at a time. Unless you get off the road soon, you’ll be flyin’ colors, wearin’ your durag, doin’ the pipe, hangin’ with cluckheads, maybe slangin’ and takin’ people down, then where will you be? Doin’ big time with Uncle LeRoy, that’s where. That’s not the life you want.”
“Maybe it is the life I want.”
“Yeah, and what kind of girl do you want? A base freak? A crack queen?”
“Girls want the guys with gold chains and hot cars and nice clothes. They don’t hang with some dude workin’ for nothin’ at McDonald’s. Losers work for minimum wage. You can’t make a decent livin’ workin’ for whitey.”
“Minimum wage jobs are a rung in the ladder you climb up on. You’ll never get higher on the ladder unless you’re will
ing to step up from the bottom, one rung at a time.”
“There be all kinds of guys on the street wid nice threads and cars and stereos that’s never worked for no minimum wage.”
“That’s because they’re making their money off stuff that’s illegal—peddling drugs and shoplifting and burglary. Don’t you get it? That’s no life! Who’s filling your mind with this garbage?”
“Ain’t gonna be a victim no more. GC say you let yo’self be a victim, and people learn to keep comin’ after you.”
“Who’s GC?” Clarence asked again.
“Somebody. Never mind.”
“Look, if anybody hurts you at school, you’ve got to let the school authorities deal with it, not strike back yourself.”
“Authorities?” Ty laughed. “You kiddin’ me? This stuff happen ever’ day. You don’t deal with it, nobody does.”
“Okay, you can’t make it in this school? I’ll get you in a private school or transfer you to some other public school.”
“You mean an American school?”
“What?”
“You know, white.”
“White and American aren’t the same thing,” Clarence said. “You’re an American.”
“I’m an Afrikan.”
Clarence could tell by the way he said it he was spelling it with a k. He raised his hands in frustration. “This is your country; this is your life. With that kind of attitude you’ll never make it to college, never make it in business or anything.”
“Ain’t got no chance of makin’ it anyway”
“Now you’re sounding like a victim.”
“It’s true, ain’t it?”
“No, it’s not true. Don’t pull this sob story on me. You’re not trapped by racism, you’re not trapped by poverty, you’re not trapped by gangs. You go down it’s because you choose to go down!”
“You never been one to just take it. Why you tryin’ to make me a hook?”
“I’m not. Ty, you’ve got to stand up for what’s right without breaking the law. You can’t always get justice, you know.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know why not. But sometimes you have to be patient.”
“Be patient while they dis you and mess wid you and hit you and shove you and call you names, call you an Oreo, steal yo’ money and yo’ jacket?”
“Yeah, that’s right. You have to choose when to fight back and how. Otherwise it escalates, until you’ve got people killing each other, like two-bit gangsters, like Crips and Bloods.”
“Crips and Bloods ain’t the same.”
“They’re exactly the same. They wear a different color, but color doesn’t make the man. Character does. And Bloods and Crips don’t have any character.”
“Crips be righteous.”
“Righteous? How come Crips kill more Crips than Bloods do?”
“Whatchu mean? That be a lie.”
“No it’s not. My friend’s a cop and he knows.”
“Cops? Man, 5-0 don’t know nothin’.”
“You don’t know nothin’. You stay away from gangs or you’ll throw away your life. Like Darryl and Robby and what’s his name, the kid in the wheelchair they crippled for life. Every time a kid in the hood went down, your mama cried on my shoulder. Don’t do this, Ty. Don’t break your mama’s heart.”
“Mama’s gone.”
“She’s somewhere else, that’s all.”
“Mama don’t want me beat up all the time.”
“Of course not, but—”
“Got to be connected,” Ty said. “Got to be in a gang or you got no protection.”
“There’s other ways to be connected. Like the youth group at church.”
“Yeah, right.” Ty glared at Clarence. “They gonna protect me from the Bloods?” Ty seemed emboldened. He looked at Clarence. “They say you white on the inside, Uncle Antsy. That what you is, huh?”
Clarence watched the back of his right hand slap Ty on the face. The teenager’s head hit the wall behind him. “You watch your mouth boy, hear me?” Clarence felt the explosion of rage subside just enough to realize what he’d done. He reached out and put his hands on Ty’s shoulders, firmly but tenderly.
“I’m sorry, Ty. I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to hit you. I know you don’t want to get pushed around. But violence isn’t the answer.” Clarence sighed and out of desperation took a page from his father’s book. “Maybe justice won’t come now, but it will eventually. You have to have that faith.”
The young man’s eyes filled with anger. He stalked out the front door, turning around just long enough to fire a last round. “Yeah, right—my mama had that faith. And where’s she now?”
Dani looked at the Carpenter, Torel, Zeke, Nancy, Ruth, and Felicia. She couldn’t imagine a better group to make this journey with. They’d traveled to the far reaches of the universe, galaxies away. In the process they saw countless wonders that moved her heart to worship. Each planet, each star, each nebula unveiled some new aspect of the multifaceted greatness of Elyon.
Dani particularly reveled in Felicia’s childlike expressions of wonder. “I’m writing a song for Jesus,” Felicia whispered to her, as if she didn’t want to spoil the surprise by letting the omniscient one in on the secret. “I’m making a painting for him,” Dani whispered back, feeling every bit as delighted as Felicia.
Eventually they arrived on a world more beautiful than Dani could fathom—cascading waterfalls, rainbows of a hundred colors, mountain peaks five times higher than any on earth. Oceans with blue-green water, and waves crashing upon rocks the size of mountains. Grassy meadows, fields of multicolored flowers—colors she had never seen before. This place seemed somehow familiar to her, yet how could it, since it was like nothing she’d ever seen? Still, she felt profoundly at home.
“Why hasn’t anyone told me of this place until now? I’d think it would be the talk of heaven!”
The Carpenter smiled at her. “They did not tell you because they do not know of it. They’ve never been here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You are the first to visit this place.”
“No,” she said, then her face flushed. “How could that be?”
“This is your place. As your father once built you that tree house, I fashioned this place just for you.”
Nancy beamed. “He gave us our own worlds too,” she said. “Beautiful as this is, mine seems the perfect one for me. The Master tells me each world he gives is tailor-made to the receiver.”
“This is all for me?”
“Yes,” the Carpenter said. “Do you like it?”
“Oh, I love it. And I haven’t even begun to explore it! Thank you. Oh, thank you.” She hugged him tight.
“This is not the ultimate place I have prepared for you, my daughter. But it is a pleasant beginning, is it not?” He seemed to take delight in her delight. “I brought some of your family and your guardian with you, so they could enjoy it too. Pleasure is deepest when shared with those you love.”
“I’m so glad to have them here with me. But I thought we’d no longer have family in heaven.”
“No family?” The Carpenter laughed. “Family is what heaven is about. Earthly fathers were an imperfect shadow of Father Elyon. Earthly brothers were an imperfect shadow of brother Christ. The richest family relationships on earth offered just a taste of what is here. Relationships extend beyond blood family, of course. There is no marriage as you knew it, for all of you are one bride. My bride.”
“But there are still such special relationships with family and friends from earth.”
“Of course. You would expect this if you understood your life on earth was not disconnected to life here but the prelude to it. Those who loved each other and stood by each other in the old world developed a special bond. Heaven is not the end of earth’s camaraderie but the extension of it.”
“I often felt as though I’d just scratched the surface with some of my friendships on earth,” Dani said. “I wanted to d
evelop them, but there never seemed enough time.”
“There are many new friendships of course, but relationships there continue here. Grandparents whose grandchildren grew up on mission fields and wished they could spend more time with them, have that time now. The bad things of that world are gone from here. The good things are made better here. Family is not eliminated, it is expanded. Marriage is not destroyed, it is fulfilled. Look at Zeke and Nancy,” he said with a smile.
Dani gazed at the two of them, their love for each other so evident. “I am in awe of this place, Master,” Dani said, eager to see what lay beyond the mountains and beneath the surface and within the waters. “Are there other places like it?”
“This place is as much unique in my creation as you are unique. I never paint the same picture twice. There are colors here that exist nowhere else.”
“Colors unique to this world? I knew I hadn’t seen them before. But you’re saying these are colors you’ve only used once? That seems incredible.”
“Do you think it is hard for me to do such a thing?”
“No. I mean…of course you wouldn’t be limited to the colors of earth, or even to the new colors I’ve already seen in heaven. There’s just so many, it seems like you’d run out.”
The Carpenter laughed, touching the back of his scarred hand to her delighted face. “I can no more run out of colors than I can run out of worlds or people. I can simply make more, new ones as unique and beautiful as any I’ve made before. I am an artist, Dani. Your artistry was a gift from me.”
Dani looked around, soaking in the incredible wonder of it. It grew darker, the sun setting with a brilliant cold blue. She looked at two of the three moons, one eclipsing another, sending a hue the color of…of what? There was no name for this color.
“Call it what you wish, my child,” the Carpenter said. “It is yours to name.”
Dani gazed at the face of her great-grandmother and saw the beautiful brownish shade with just a hint of red that suggested this particular hue. “I’ll call it Nancy’s color.” Nancy beamed with delight.
