Tangled Roots

by Angela Henry

“Nah, I ain’t seen the muthafucka. And if you see him, tell him to get his ass in here! I don’t appreciate havin’ to do his job for him!” She grabbed a rubber tub from a cart behind the hostess station and started busing a vacated table. I watched her haphazardly toss plates, glasses, and cutlery into the tub and halfheartedly wipe the table off, leaving crumbs and debris behind, and I cringed.

  I walked back to the kitchen in search of Alex and encountered Grace Douglas, who cooked at the restaurant part-time, instead. She smiled when she saw me. Grace was a sweetheart most of the time but if you tried to give her grief, she’d cut you a new butt hole. She was the only person I knew who scared Joy.

  “Hey, girl! What’s going on?”

  “Nothin’ much, Grace. Is Alex around?”

  “I think he and Gwen went to the market. Anything I can help you with?”

  “Have you seen Timmy around?”

  “Sure haven’t. Saw him in here last night, though, with some cute little black girl with braids. They looked real cozy.”

  It had to have been Shanda. Maybe she knew where he was. I could have just called his house but I knew his mother worked third shift at a factory and slept during the day. I didn’t want to bother her, especially with something like this, until I had talked to Timmy.

  “Do you know if he called in?”

  “Not that I know of, honey. Is everything okay?”

  I sure hoped so.

  I headed over to the registrar’s office at Kingford College. I knew that Shanda lived at home instead of on campus. I didn’t know her address, but knew who could tell me. Myra Hampton was Gwen’s best friend and had worked in the records office at Kingford College for twenty years. If anyone could tell me where Shanda lived it was Myra.

  Kingford College was a small liberal arts college with an enrollment of about fifteen hundred students. The tuition was so high it was no wonder Shanda lived at home. The records office was located in Tyler Hall, a gray three-story stone building that used to be the college president’s house back in the thirties. It now housed the records, counseling, and cashier’s offices.

  It was a beautiful day, so I ditched my car and walked over to campus. Students were taking advantage of the sunshine and were camped out on blankets on the college green studying and socializing. I watched a group of students headed into Floyd Library, which was right next to Tyler Hall, and spotted Shanda heading down the library steps. I called out to her and she looked over at me for a second before turning on her heel and quickly walking off to the parking lot. I almost went after her but decided it might be better to try to catch her at home. She obviously wasn’t sick. So, why hadn’t she come to class and why was she avoiding me?

  It had been a long time since I’d been in Tyler Hall but it hadn’t changed a bit. The same cracked blue linoleum on the floors. The same narrow halls and beige walls covered in bulletin boards, and the same smell of coffee, disinfectant, and stale cigarette smoke even though no smoking was allowed in any of the buildings on campus anymore. I found the records office and went in. Myra sat behind a long, age-scarred wooden counter and had the phone cradled against her shoulder as she frowned at her computer screen. When she looked up and saw me, she gestured for me to wait a minute while she ended her call.

  Myra Hampton had been Gwen’s running buddy since high school. But where Gwen was statuesque, loud, and fun-loving. Myra was more reserved, petite, and almost prissy. She wore her hair in the same short, feathered seventies flip she had worn in high school. Gwen tried repeatedly to bring her best friend’s fashion sense into the nineties without much success. And if Myra knew Gwen let it slip to me that she had met her new boyfriend, nicknamed Bone, no less, through the prison’s pen pal Web site, she’d die of embarrassment.

  “Well, ain’t this a surprise. You here to register for a class?”

  “Oh, no. Not me. My college days are behind me and I want to keep them a fond memory.” I knew Carl’s mother had a different opinion but she could stick those graduate catalogs she was having sent to me up her behind.

  “You still working at the literacy center?”

  “Yes. Actually, that’s why I came by. I needed to ask you a favor. Is it possible for you to give me the address of one of the students here? She’s one of our volunteers at the center and I need to talk to her.”

  “Sounds kinda serious. Who is it?”

  “Her name is Shanda Kidd.”

  “Shanda? What’s little Miss Perfect done?” Myra asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “You know Shanda?” I was a sucker for good gossip and Myra looked like she could give good gossip.

  “Not her so much as her mother. I went to high school with Shanda’s mother, Bonita. We used to be friends ’til she got involved with that church, Holy Cross. She changed after she started going there. Suddenly I wasn’t good enough for her. Got real uppity and would only spend time around people from her church. Even married one of the deacons. She never let Shanda play with other kids, thought she was too good to be around just any old kids. She was only allowed to be around relatives or kids from the church. You havin’ a problem with Shanda?”

  “No, nothing like that. I just wanted to check on her. She wasn’t at the center today.”

  “Well, I wouldn’t be surprised if Bonita talked her out of working there. I know she couldn’t be happy with Shanda being around people she probably thinks are sinners and losers. Here,” she said, handing me a slip of paper. “This is the address, but don’t be surprised if Bonita won’t let you through the front door.”

  I went back to the restaurant to get my car and mooch a sandwich from the kitchen. Timmy still hadn’t turned up. Gwen and Alex were back from the market and arguing, as usual.

  “Okay, Alex, if you want to serve your customers these little hard-ass plums, you go right ahead. Just don’t come cryin’ to me when someone sues you over a broken tooth!”

  “There’s nothing wrong with these plums, Gwen. They’re for the plum sauce, not to eat as is. You’d know that if you knew how to cook.” Alex never raised his voice. He was much too laid-back for that. He managed to make his displeasure known by the way his nostrils flared. When he got mad he looked like a pissed-off horse.

  “Well, I may not know how to cook in the kitchen, but I know how to whip up a feast for your skinny behind in the bedroom! And let’s see how long it is before you taste any of this again!” Gwen smacked her own behind and stormed out of the kitchen. None of us was fazed, especially Alex. Scenes like this were a regular occurrence where Gwen was concerned. I’d always thought Gwen would have made a great actress. She had an overdeveloped flair for the dramatic, not to mention enough clothes, wigs, and makeup to outfit an entire theater troupe.

  “You working tonight?” Alex asked.

  “Nope. Just came by to see if Timmy was around. You seen him today?”

  “Why? Has he done something?” Alex had been more than willing to give Timmy a job at the restaurant provided he walked the straight and narrow. But if there were any indications that he was using again, he’d be out of a job. I didn’t know what was going on, so I kept quiet about the police coming to the center.

  “No. He passed his practice test and I know how anxious he is for his score. I just wanted to let him know the good news, that’s all.”

  “He didn’t show up today. Olivia called and said he was sick.”

  “Oh, well, I guess I can tell him when he comes back to class.” I figured Harmon and Mercer had been by to see Olivia Milton and I wondered if she was covering for Timmy because she didn’t know where he was, either.

  “So, he’s doing all right then?” Alex asked with just a hint of concern.

  “Oh, yeah, he’s ready to take his GED and if his practice test is any indication he should have no trouble passing.”

  “Glad to hear it. That boy’s given Olivia enough grief. It’s time he started giving her a reason to be proud of him. I think if he started using and getting in trouble again it would kill her.”


  I leaned back against the counter and watched Alex walk back to his office. I sure hoped Timmy wasn’t about to break Olivia Milton’s heart again.

  Chapter 4

  I parked in front of a two-story house with gray siding trimmed in white and checked the slip of paper Myra had given me with Shanda’s address. This was the house all right. It was four o’clock and I hoped I could catch Shanda at home alone. I saw her little black Honda Civic in the driveway so I got out and headed up the driveway. The lawn was immaculate. Two large clay pots filled with geraniums flanked either side of the front door. I could hear faint strains of music coming from inside the house. I rang the doorbell.

  Shanda opened the door and greeted me with a big smile. I watched the smile evaporate from her face when she saw that it was me. Who had that big smile been for? Timmy?

  “Kendra?” she said, leaning slightly out the door and looking quickly up and down the street. “This is a surprise. How’d you know where I live?” She suddenly looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

  I didn’t want to get Myra in any trouble so I ignored her question. “You weren’t in class today. I was worried when you didn’t show up. Can I come in?” I asked, pushing past her into the foyer.

  “Well, I had to go talk to my counselor today, and the only appointment I could get was for this morning. I thought I’d be done in time to be at the center but my appointment ran over.”

  It sounded completely legit but somehow I knew it wasn’t true. Maybe it was because she couldn’t quite meet my eyes.

  I followed Shanda into a living room that looked like it belonged in a turn-of-the-century brothel. Garish red carpet clashed with wallpaper crawling with pink and yellow cabbage roses. Massive mahogany furniture crowded the center of the room while thick, gold, velvet brocade curtains, complete with a fringe, hung in the large front picture window. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling and a large gilded mirror adorned with cherubs hung over the brick fireplace, the mantle of which was covered in glass figurines of animals. Every available flat surface was covered in lace doilies. A baby grand piano occupied one whole corner of the room and was draped with what looked like a large royal purple silk scarf. I could easily see lingerie-clad beauties lounging lazily around this room, entertaining flashily dressed men who smoked cigars and sported pinky rings. I glanced in the mirror and caught the glimpse of amusement on Shanda’s face as she watched my reaction to the room. This surely didn’t look like the living room of a devoutly religious woman.

  “This is the only room in the house where my mother let my father have his way. All this stuff belonged to my grandmother, and since none of my aunts or uncles wanted any of it, we ended up with all of it.”

  I suppressed the urge to ask what her grandmother had done for a living and glanced at a grouping of pictures that crowded the top of a round end table next to the brocade couch. One in particular caught my eye and I walked over and picked it up. It was a group picture of the Holy Cross Church choir decked out in green-and-gold choir robes. In it I noticed a much younger Shanda standing next to a beautifully smiling Inez Rollins. I felt tears prick my eyes and quickly put the picture back.

  “Have you seen Timmy lately?” I asked, watching her closely.

  “I ran into him at Estelle’s last night. It was slow so he sat with me while I ate. Why?”

  “He didn’t show up in class today and I was just wondering if anything had been bothering him lately.”

  “I only see him in class and I haven’t noticed anything different about him.”

  Only saw him in class? I’d been getting the distinct impression that there was an after-class involvement going on between them. Unless Shanda flirted and acted familiar with all the men she knew. Somehow I didn’t think so.

  “Oh, I thought you were tutoring him in geometry.”

  “Yeah, I tutor him. But, mainly I just see him in class. You didn’t think he was my man or anything, did you?”

  “I did wonder. You two seem kinda close so I naturally assumed —”

  “Well, you assumed wrong. I have a man and it’s not Timmy Milton. And if there’s something wrong with Timmy it’s his problem and I don’t know anything about it.” Her arms were crossed defensively across her chest and her shoulders were drawn up almost to her ears.

  Talk about protesting too much. Shanda’s little declaration was long on attitude and short on persuasiveness. No matter what she said about having a man, she sure hadn’t acted like she had one whenever I’d seen her with Timmy.

  “I’m sorry if I’ve offended you, Shanda,” I said through partially gritted teeth. And I was sorry, if I was wrong, but I knew that I wasn’t. Diplomacy, which is a fancy word for ass kissing, is not one of my strengths. But I didn’t want to offend her further by bringing up example after example of her so-called noninvolvement with Timmy.

  “It’s okay, Kendra. No big deal,” she said, relaxing and looking away from me towards the window. She was obviously expecting someone and making no secret of the fact that she wanted me to leave.

  “Will I see you in class tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” she said with a smile, returning to the sweet and friendly Shanda that I knew and liked.

  I took the hint, said goodbye, and headed out the front door. As I walked down the driveway, a black Cadillac Escalade pulled up behind my car. I watched as one of the finest black men I’d seen in a long time emerged from the driver’s side. His skin was the color of coffee with liberal splashes of cream and his sandy-colored hair was cut so short he may as well have been bald. His body was slim and muscular and his belted baggy jeans and tight black T-shirt emphasized a slim waist and well-defined pecs. As he walked past me, I caught a whiff of a spicy lemony-scented cologne that I couldn’t place. He must have been about six foot two and anywhere from twenty-five to thirty years old. As we passed each other, he tipped his black Ray Bans down, giving me an appraising glance with eyes as green as emeralds. He must have liked what he saw ’cause he grinned at me with teeth so straight and white that I could almost feel my panties start to disintegrate. Almost. Fine as he was, he was almost a little too pretty for me. But still.

  I watched him head up Shanda’s driveway. She was waiting at the door and practically leapt on him as he entered the house. Poor Timmy. I wondered if he knew about Shanda and her pretty boy.

  I started to head home after the afternoon session at the literacy center. Noreen had spent the entire afternoon in a meeting, which made everyone much more relaxed and happy. It was like old times again. But I couldn’t enjoy her absence with the same enthusiasm as my fellow inmates because I was worried about Timmy. The only murder that had occurred recently that Harmon and Mercer could possibly want to talk to Timmy about was Inez Rollins’s murder. Timmy’s past drug usage, which included at least one arrest that I knew of, didn’t necessarily mean that he could be involved in any way with a murder, least of all Inez’s. Surely the person who killed Inez was some anonymous psycho. But, then again, I didn’t know Timmy as well as I used to when he was a little boy and I’d babysit for him occasionally. Who knew what was going on in his private life?

  Instead of heading home, I decided to drive past Timmy’s place. He lived with his mother in a condo on Palmer Street. It was in a fairly new development, which had about three dozen small two-story brick units, each one with a different color door. I’d only been there once for a party when the Miltons first moved back to Willow about six months ago. As I turned onto Palmer Street, my heart sank. There were police cars parked in front of the Miltons’ unit. I drove past as slowly as I dared, trying to see what was going on. I knew I should stop to see if everything was okay. But I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. I spotted Olivia Milton, dressed in her work uniform, standing in front of her front door talking loudly and gesturing wildly at Detective Trish Harmon, who looked like she’d just finished sucking a lemon. Her lips were pressed together and stuck out in what could have been classified as a pout by anyone who di
dn’t know her. More than likely Harmon was just trying to remain calm in the face of the blatant hostility currently being flung in her face. I hoped Olivia was giving her hell.

  I saw Mercer standing by a car that was parked in front of the condo. It was Timmy’s burgundy Chevy Cavalier. Mercer had on gloves and he and another officer appeared to be searching the car. I didn’t see Timmy anywhere, not even in the backseat of either of the two police cars. Things were not looking good. Where in the world was he? A loud blast from a car horn behind me quickly snapped me out of my trance. Not bothering to look back, I sped off down the street.

  I wasn’t feeling quite ready to go home, so I ended up grabbing dinner at Wendy’s and wandering through one of my favorite thrift stores, Déjà Vu. I’m not big on malls and I love a bargain the way old ladies love bingo, though most people I know just think I’m cheap. Practically everything I own is used. Déjà Vu is a tiny hole-in-the-wall connected to a secondhand record shop. I’ve found most of my favorite articles of clothing while digging through the shop’s crowded racks. Ruby Young, the owner of both shops, greeted me when I walked in.

  “We got some great new stuff in the back, Kendra. Not too raggedy and don’t none of it stink.” Ruby was in her seventies and looked like she’d stepped out of a fifties time capsule. She wore gold cat’s-eye glasses studded with rhinestones and an unnaturally jet-black beehive hairdo that looked as though something were making a nest in it. She had a raspy voice that sounded like she gargled with rocks. Today she was dressed in a white vintage Chanel suit with black piping and gold buttons.

  “Thanks, Ruby. How about evening gowns? Got anything new?”

  I was desperately trying to find a blue gown to wear in Lynette’s wedding more flattering than the sequined horror she’d picked out for me.

  “There might be a couple back there, though I can’t make any promises.”

  I thanked her and headed to the back of the small shop towards the dresses, stopping briefly to admire a fringed silk shawl and breathing in the shop’s oddly appealing scent, a mixture of cedar and Ruby’s Charlie perfume. I got busy hunting through the jam-packed racks, praying I’d find something fabulous. I found a beautiful powder blue creation with a tea-length skirt right away but was disappointed to discover it had a large stain on the back that looked suspiciously like urine. I quickly put it back. That was the only thing about Déjà Vu that I hated. Ruby’s eyesight wasn’t what it used to be and she often had more trash than treasure.