Shadow of Death

by Patricia Gussin

  She wore a creamy white dress with a full skirt that came just above her knees. Her hair was combed with a simple part on the side with fluffy bangs covering most of her forehead. White slingback heels accented her legs. Though she did not feel that way, she looked young and innocent as she walked into her crowded living room lined with folding chairs to accommodate her relatives.

  “You look just lovely, honey,” Carl Whalen appeared at his daughter’s side, embracing her.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” she murmured, returning his embrace with a smile. Her father’s gray hair had thinned, and his girth had thickened, but his ever-ready smile still came quick. “It wouldn’t be the same if you and Mom weren’t here.”

  Laura glanced around and noted with satisfaction that the children looked fresh and perfect, thanks to her mother and sister. The boys were dressed in short navy blue suits and white short-sleeved shirts with snap-on bow ties, while the girls wore matching white dresses, embroidered in lilac, and white patent leather shoes. The twins, as Laura had anticipated, hovered around her mother, especially Natalie, always her mother’s favorite. From the moment of her parents’ arrival, the twins had climbed all over Peg and Carl Whalen. It was also interesting, and sad, to watch them stay away from Steve’s parents.

  As for Steve, he looked tired, even haggard. Most of the work for their move to Florida had fallen to him. Steve had insisted that Laura join in the festivities with her classmates as he excused himself to pack. As the graduating class of 1971 celebrated on an evening cruise to Belle Isle on the Detroit River, Steve loaded furniture into the rented U-Haul. When the class president stepped up to make the toasts, Laura had wandered off to stand alone at the prow, where a cold, metal object slipped unnoticed from her hand into the deep waters. Tomorrow Steve planned to drive the U-Haul south with her brother. Carl and Peg would drive Mikey and Kevin in the Pontiac, while Laura, Janet, and the three younger kids would follow in the Falcon. After one overnight stop, they’d be in their new rented house on Davis Island in Tampa. Tonight would be their last night in this house.

  She approached her mother, who stood by the door with waiting arms.

  “Baby, I’m so proud of you,” Peg Whalen managed to say before tears glistened on her tanned cheeks. Ted, taller than anyone in the room and quite handsome, began to clap. Janet, always his partner in crime, followed. Like Ted, she was tall and curly-haired. By the time Laura and her mother had embraced, the kids were all applauding too.

  Overall, it was good to be leaving Detroit. So many memories: some lovely, some wonderful, some horrible and frightening. Her mind occasionally flooded with images of the rape, the murder, those awful moments with Snake Rogers, the narcotics she had stolen for him. It would all stop when she got to Florida. It just had to.

  Today, of, course, she would encounter Susan’s dad, Detective Reynolds. Well, she would try to avoid him in the crowd scene. She would see David. Would he seek her out?

  Laura was silent during the ride into downtown Detroit with Steve and his parents. The senior Nelsons were tense and polite. Helen seemed sedated, as if she were in some kind of chemical straightjacket. Laura suspected she was on a neuroleptic, maybe Haldol, to control her emotions. Laura wished that Aunt Hazel had come, but she’d sent a postcard from Madrid, full of apologies.

  Seated in the car, Laura could not help but think back over the past four years. The memory of Anthony Diggs, her very first patient, would be embedded in her consciousness forever, along with his brother Johnny, her assailant, and her victim. Now their lovely sister, Stacy, was her friend and had promised to be at graduation. Laura was relieved that Lucy’s family would soon be moving to the outer city limits, away from the ghetto.

  As Steve pulled the car into the parking lot surrounded by barbed wire, Laura shivered.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  The graduating class was scurrying to assemble in the proper order, which seemed an impossible goal. Laura and Vicky created a stir as they approached with their small children in tow. Vicky was gorgeous as usual. As valedictorian, she had to make a speech, and Laura wondered how she could be so nonchalant as she frolicked in line with her husband and daughter. Laura was tense. Maybe that was why Natalie had clung to her. All Laura had to do was to walk up and accept her diploma, but her knees were buckling and her stomach churning.

  “Laura, what’s wrong with you?” Susan slipped out of place and stood beside her. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  “I’m okay,” Laura said. “Really, Susan, all I’ve got to do is walk up the aisle, right?”

  “Right. Just take it easy,” Susan took Laura’s hand and gave it a little squeeze. “Guess who’s lurking over there?”

  “Where?”

  Laura followed Susan’s gaze to the tell-tale red hair. “Tim Robinson.”

  “Let’s hope Rosie doesn’t see him. She has never forgiven him for coming on to you in Montreal. Funny, isn’t it? With her outrageous flirtations.”

  Laura groaned. “Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It wasn’t such a big deal.”

  “Well, it sure put him in the dog house. Oh, oh,” Susan pointed. “We’re going to see Rosie in action. She’s marching over there.”

  They both watched as Tim swung around and thrust an armload of long-stemmed red roses at Rosie.

  “Would you look at that,” Susan sighed. “They’re kissing.”

  The graduates proceeded slowly toward the entrance to the white tent. Laura finally saw Stacy, who looked beautiful in a slim red skirt and matching silk blouse. Her hair hung long and loose in the style of the Supremes.

  Stacy saw her and gestured excitedly. Laura waved back and pointed to the area where Steve and the rest of the family had headed. She didn’t want Stacy to sit by herself in this crowd.

  The procession moved slowly, deliberately. The traditional Pomp and Circumstance came blasting forth from the university orchestra, exciting the crowd. The faculty followed the graduating students. Will Cunningham was in their midst, having been named assistant professor. Then came the department chairmen, the board of directors, and the invited speakers. The last among them, flanked by the dean of the medical school and the president of the university, was Dr. David Monroe, the honorary degree recipient.

  David looked regal in the long black robe with edges embroidered in the crimson and gold colors of Harvard, his alma mater, the doctoral hood with its slash of red draped dramatically over his broad shoulders. The traditional mortar cap obscured much of his face, but his expression was somber, even plaintive. Only a fringe of hair could be seen peeking through on either side. Laura allowed herself the briefest glance as he passed by her row of seats.

  The ceremony proceeded with the welcome by Dean Burke and the invocation. Vicky delivered the valedictory speech as if she were a professional speaker, without a trace of nervousness. It was then time for the honorary degree recipient to speak. Laura held her breath as David mounted the podium.

  He removed the black mortarboard cap and with a clear steady voice addressed the graduating class. Laura heard everything and nothing. She felt as if each word were spoken to her and for her, though she had no idea what he was actually saying. It was his tone, his inflection, as if he were talking directly to her in a secret language that she alone could interpret. Laura couldn’t breathe. Tears welled in her eyes, and she could do nothing to stop them from flowing. She didn’t have a handkerchief or a tissue. She didn’t care. One contact slipped out of focus. It didn’t matter.

  Later, Laura heard that it had been an awe-inspiring speech. The entire class rose for a standing ovation as David concluded. As if in a trance, she rose, too. And then she sat back down with everyone. The Hippocratic Oath followed. Laura didn’t recite with the rest of the class, she was too overwhelmed. Seeing David again, hearing him speak after all of these months, she’d had no idea how she would really react. She wondered how he felt. No, she knew.

  The graduates proceeded one by one to receive their diplomas f
rom the dean. Accept the diploma. Shake hands and leave the stage without tripping or falling down. Laura forced herself to move forward when her name was called.

  David stood next to Dean Burke as she walked up onto the stage. Every cell in her body quivered. She prayed she could do this. Yes, she was doing it. As she stepped aside after the obligatory handshake with the dean, diploma in hand, David stepped forward slightly. He took her hand and pressed it between both of his. This slight movement was imperceptible to most of the congregation, but the dean noticed. Maybe whoever was behind her in line did, too. She didn’t care.

  David looked directly into Laura’s eyes, a stab of anguish crossing his face. What happened after that Laura would never recall. Somehow she’d made it off the stage and into the jostling crowd.

  “There she is!” shouted Ted over the din of the celebrants. At six foot three, he was tall enough to spot Laura. “Come on, Mikey. Let’s be the first ones to give her a big hug!”

  Her brother threw his arms around Laura as Mikey tugged at her long black gown. “Way to go, Sis!”

  Laura reached down and patted her son’s soft head.

  “Everybody else is over there,” Ted said. He pointed to the right of the stage. “I think we were the loudest clappers when you got your diploma. Right, Mikey?”

  “Right, Uncle Ted.”

  Stacy came over and embraced Laura.

  “Stacy, I’d like you to meet my brother, Ted Whalen. Ted, this is Stacy Jones, a really special friend.”

  Ted shook Stacy’s hand and said, “Glad to meet you, Stacy. What’s happened to the others?”

  “I saw Mr. Nelson over there somewhere.” Stacy pointed into the distance.

  Laura turned to scan the crowd.

  “Let’s all get together. Follow me everybody.” Ted grabbed Mikey by the hand and led the way over to the rest of the family. “Laura, or should I say ‘Doctor’, there’s a surprise for you.”

  Laura followed blindly. She didn’t even feel the persistent little tugs as Natalie clung tightly to her long black gown. Meanwhile, Nicole and Kevin played chase in the crowd despite the efforts of the adults to keep them in line. Who was playing with the kids? Aunt Hazel, Steve’s aunt? Laura greeted her tearfully, chiding Hazel for lying to her about being in Madrid.

  “But I was in Madrid, child,” Hazel said, reaching up to cup Laura’s cheek tenderly. “And I left just to be able to congratulate the family’s first doctor in person! Now, listen, I do have this ache in one of my knees that just won’t quit.”

  When Stacy crouched down to intercept Kevin before he crashed into some graduate’s grandmother struggling through the crowd with a four-legged walker, she noticed a figure lurking at the edge of the crowd. Although partially obscured by spruce trees, she knew instantly. She scooped up Kevin, handing the squirming little boy to the nearest Nelson relative. Wasting no time with explanations, Stacy headed for the spruce trees.

  * * *

  “That’s it, gentlemen. You should have more than enough.” David had endured what seemed an unending round of photographers. Posing with the dean, with the faculty, with the President of the university. He thought it would never end. He had to find Laura.

  “Andrew,” he said to the dean, “it’s been a real honor. Wonderful to be back in Detroit, but I need to excuse myself now.”

  “We’ll see you at dinner tonight, David? After all, it’s in your honor,” Burke answered jovially.

  “Of course, Andrew. Now if you will excuse me.” Still in cap and gown, David hurried from the small group of lingering dignitaries. He harbored no illusions. He just needed to see Laura. Shake her hand. Hold it in his again, however briefly. She’d be surrounded by her husband and family, but that was okay. Her children would be with her too.

  David had been stunned when he heard from Bill Clocker, the new chairman of surgery at University Medical School, that Laura had had another baby. A boy, Dr. Clocker thought he’d been told, but he wasn’t really sure. All these months Laura had never communicated. He wondered whether rumors of his separation from Cynthia had reached her. He had found a modest apartment in Palo Alto, close to the hospital. No legal separation, no divorce talk, just separate lives. Cynthia and Ruth continued to involve themselves in their charity work. Ruth had become active in gay rights, even taking on legal work pro bono. He didn’t care. The truth was, he was deeply relieved that he didn’t have to live with Cynthia any longer. He had his work, and he had the memory of Laura.

  Would it make a difference if Laura knew that Cynthia and he no longer lived together? David answered his own question again and again. The response was always no. Yet he still couldn’t help but wonder if she knew that there would never be anybody else for him. That without her, how empty and hopeless his life always would be.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  “Stacy’s not here,” Lucy Jones informed the young man standing in her doorway.

  “Uh huh. And where might she be on such a fine day, Mrs. Jones?” Snake strained to sound polite. “I want to take her over to check out my mural.”

  Lucy hesitated. The last thing she had heard about Snake Rogers was that he had been in jail for drug dealing. Hadn’t he gotten two years?

  “I know what you’re thinkin’, Mrs. Jones, but I been rehabilitated. That’s why I got out early. Did half my time ’cause of my successful rehabilitation. I’ve been workin’ on myself real hard. With Stacy, I just want to pick up where we left off, you know? Man, did I miss the old neighborhood and everybody in it.”

  “Stacy’s at the medical school graduation, Ray.” Beyond the doorway, Lucy saw the shiny black car again, the one she’d been seeing off and on all day, parked down the street.

  “That right?”

  “She has a friend graduating,” she said proudly. “Stacy plans to be a doctor, too, and Dr. Nelson, says she’ll help get her into a good school,” Lucy said and smiled. “Far away from here, I hope.”

  Snake’s upper lip curled. “What you sayin’, Mrs. Jones? Stacy’s gonna be my lady, soon as she’s outta of that fuckin’ white prison you got her in.” He looked beyond her into the apartment, stopping when he saw the piles of boxes scattered about.

  “What’s going down here?” he demanded.

  “We’re moving,” Lucy said icily. “Just who do you think you’re talking to, Ray Rogers? You just run along now. Remember how we all got along so well when Anthony and Johnny were alive, son, no need to spoil that now. Your mama is a friend of mine.”

  “Stacy’s my woman,” he insisted. “She’s all I thought about when I was on the inside. I changed my life around because of her. Nobody, specially that fuckin’ white doctor gonna take her away. Same one that fucked up Anthony and snuffed Johnny.”

  “Ray, she,” Lucy began, but Snake had slammed the screen door and bolted out onto the street and into Lonnie’s old Mustang. As she closed and locked the front door with a shaking hand, Lucy noticed the black car pull out and start out after Snake.

  All those days in prison, thinkin’ about Stacy. Plannin’ to share his dreams to become a famous artist. In prison, even the art instructor said he had real talent. With pride he’d passed around the tattered copy of the newspaper articles about his murals. Someday he’d be rich and famous, and Stacy’d be his wife. He’d come to her house first thing to pick her up and together they’d go straight to look at his paintings. But she wasn’t home. She was hangin’ with that Nelson bitch, the one who off’d her own brother, and she didn’t even know it.

  He’d had plenty of time in the slammer to figure out what to do about Johnny. It was what they called a dilemma. If he told the pigs about the Nelson woman killin’ Johnny, he’d be heading right back inside. Musta left fingerprints all over the Nelson house. They’d have him on assault. On the other hand, there was no proof that the bitch shot Johnny, and wasn’t nobody gonna believe that she gave it up to him that night in the car. With no eyewitness and no evidence, she’d walk and he’d be the one fucked. Make her fu
ckin’ pay some day, he decided, but for now, go back to usin’ her to get those pain killers to sell again, just until he got back on his feet. Yeah, he felt guilty that he let the bitch get away with killin’ his best friend, but he vowed someday he’d get true revenge. Retribution, they called it. He thought about it day and night.

  Now his plans were crumbling. Rage coursed through his veins. Stacy should be with him, not with that killer bitch. All that vengeance he’d suppressed exploded to the surface. He decided to make a surprise appearance at this graduation, let the bitch know he was back, and get Stacy the hell out of there. Then he’d take her over to Theodore St. to look at his murals, and he’d explain his plans to take the project further east.

  On the way over to the med school, Snake decided to drive by Theodore, take a quick glance at the mural. When he slowed Lonnie’s Mustang to take a look, he couldn’t see the building. He looked around, stunned. Had he taken a wrong turn? Other buildings were familiar. This was the right street. He got out of the car and stared. There had to be some mistake. He panicked and staggered forward. No, there was no building: it had been torn down. There were piles of rubble, busted walls, and bricks everywhere. His mural, his last chance, had been torn down. He teetered backward, and overcome with shock and rage, slumped against the car, his hand reaching into his pocket, touching the cold, hard gun. The fucking city deserved to die. Yes, somebody would die.

  “Take it, man. I got no use for it,” Lonnie had insisted as they’d sat at the kitchen table that morning admiring his new Glock. “Take it and take my wheels. Least you have a life. Lookit me sittin’ here. No fuckin’ dick. No Maya. You don’ take this piece—” Lonnie poked the barrel of the gun into his ballooning Afro.

  “Don’ fuck ’round like that,” Snake said, reaching for the weapon, afraid that one more brother’s life would be wasted. “No way I’m goin’ back into the joint, bro.”

  Lonnie shoved it into Snake’s pocket. “First day out, no parole cop gonna jump you. Feel good to be carryin’ again, man.”