by Mary Monroe
“What you doing here?” Binkie asked with a stiff smile, strutting across the living room floor with Liz, who was just ten, a few steps behind him. Both kids, who looked like younger versions of Valerie, clutched their sleeping bags and backpacks. They looked around the room with curious looks on their faces. Their demeanor was so poised it seemed staged. It seemed as if they thought that they were being observed by hidden cameras that had been planted throughout the room by their cruel stepfather. And knowing Mr. Zeke, that sounded like something he would do. But not anymore. . . .
I knew that these two kids were more interested in trying to determine where their mean-spirited stepfather was lurking than they were curious about my presence. Liz, with her hands trembling, leaned forward and tilted her braided head toward the kitchen, cupping her ear. A loud crash made us all jump, but it was just Pete. He came trotting out of the kitchen with a dog biscuit in his mouth, something he had never been allowed to get away with when Mr. Zeke was alive. Then it dawned on me that the dog had witnessed the murder and the burial. I didn’t know how intelligent dogs were, but I had a feeling that Pete knew that he no longer had anything to fear in this house.
“Uh, I came over to keep an eye out for Paw Paw until Valerie and your mama gets back from taking Mr. Zeke to the bus station,” I said. Binkie and Liz let out mild gasps at the same time and gave me puzzled looks. Pete ran up to Liz, dropped his dog biscuit, and started wagging his tag and sniffing her leg. The way he always did when he was happy.
“The bus station?” Liz asked, leaning down to rub Pete’s head. “Where is Zeke going? To Mississippi where his mama’s folks live? Or maybe to Samoa where his daddy came from?” There was a hopeful and anxious look on her face that I hadn’t seen since she was a toddler.
“I don’t know where he went for sure,” I said. “He mentioned a bunch of places he might go. Even out of this country. And, uh, Samoa was one of them. All I do know for sure is that he packed up all his stuff last night and told Miss Naomi he wasn’t coming back. He even slapped her one last time before he left.” I paused and sniffed. The one thing that Miss Naomi had emphasized the most was that we were not to mention any one particular city, on the slim chance that somebody might check. But more important was the fact that we were to make it clear that we had not seen Mr. Zeke actually purchase a bus ticket, period. That way in case somebody was concerned enough to check there’d be no record on file with a ticket purchased to anywhere in Mr. Zeke’s name. Even I knew that people went to the bus station planning to go somewhere all the time and changed their minds once they got there.
“He won’t be coming back?” Liz asked in a pleading tone of voice and an anxious look on her face. “For real?”
I looked at the floor before I answered. Then I looked up at Liz’s face. I nodded my head so hard that my neck felt like somebody had tried to choke me to death, too. “I’m sure,” I said. “He’s gone for good.”
Now that Mr. Zeke was “gone for good,” it didn’t take long for me to find out just how unpopular he really was. Only a couple of his drinking buddies came to the house looking for him. “The only thing they seemed concerned about was the fact that he’d skipped town owing them some money,” Valerie told me.
Valerie also told me that when Zeke’s relatives heard he’d run off, they had no interest in his whereabouts or his welfare, either. To make the story seem more plausible, Miss Naomi called up Mr. Zeke’s mama in Gulfport, Mississippi, and asked her if she’d seen her son, sobbing to the woman that Mr. Zeke had packed up and left, hinting that he was going to “hook up” with a woman who knew how to treat a man. “No, I ain’t seen that mannish rascal and I don’t care if I ever do again.” That old woman went on to say that if, and when, Mr. Zeke wanted to talk to her, he knew where to find her. She was not about to try and track him down, especially since the last time he’d visited her he’d slapped her because she refused to give him money so he could visit a nearby casino.
Other than God, who could care about a man who would hit the woman who had carried him in her womb for nine months? It seemed like nobody did, which is why I couldn’t understand why I was feeling so much sorrow about what had happened to him. I didn’t miss Mr. Zeke. And after I thought about all the pain he’d caused my girl and her family, it was easy for me to convince myself that he got what he had coming.
However, as it turned out, there were people who wanted to know Mr. Zeke’s whereabouts, after all. A legion of disgruntled bill collectors that he had left hanging were very anxious to locate him. A few even called on the night he died and left nasty messages on the answering machine. Another one called the house that Sunday. And the only reason they stopped calling was because Miss Naomi had the telephone number changed that Monday. A slew of creditors had sent nasty letters addressed to Mr. Zeke threatening him with lawsuits. They’d arrived that Tuesday. After school that day, I helped Valerie write MOVED on the envelopes so we could return them to the post office. On one she “accidentally” wrote DECEASED. I spotted it in time, and as soon as she looked away, I balled it up and stuffed it into my backpack. I saw no reason to tell her about her slipup, and I made a note to monitor her actions. I was too involved in her mess not to be concerned.
It bothered me to know that my best friend had had to resort to murder so that she could enjoy a normal life like me. I didn’t know it at the time, but I would eventually lead a life that would be anything but normal.
CHAPTER 18
A few days after I’d helped Valerie return the letters to Mr. Zeke’s bill collectors, she started treating me like I was a bill collector! Each time I called the new telephone number I was told that she was either too “busy” to talk to me or that she was “gone somewhere.” I stopped trying to reach her when I called after midnight one Wednesday and was told, “she’s gone somewhere.” I couldn’t even catch up with her at school. And under the circumstances, I didn’t even try that hard. Besides, with just a few days left until graduation I had more than enough loose ends to tie up myself so I was “busy,” too.
When I saw Valerie on graduation night heading toward the auditorium in her cap and gown, with her mother and several of her relatives trailing behind her, I didn’t try to get her attention. For one thing she saw me anyway, so I figured that was enough. She looked me straight in the eye, and then strolled right past me without acknowledging me, as if I were a straight-up stranger. I didn’t know what she was thinking or feeling about what she’d done, so I had no way of knowing why she didn’t want to talk to me. I thought that if anything, despite my promise that I’d never tell that I’d witnessed her crime, she’d have wanted to keep me on a short leash to make sure I didn’t blab. The night seemed twice as long as any other night. Somehow, I managed to get through it with a smile on my face.
We had received our diplomas and suffered through long-winded speeches made by our principal and vice principal. I was about to leave the auditorium when Valerie came up to me. I had no idea why she had such a strange look on her face. She looked uncomfortable, embarrassed, and confused. If anything she should have been looking sorry. There was no excuse for the way she had been avoiding me. I was glad that Floyd and Viola were with me because their presence made me feel less awkward. Both of them knew that I had not communicated with Valerie in a while. And since I’d told them both the same stupid story about me canceling my prom date because Valerie was sick, they couldn’t understand why. About the only thing that Viola and Floyd had in common was that they usually didn’t stick their noses in my business. I was glad that the situation with Valerie was one that they stayed out of. But tonight it couldn’t be avoided.
“Where you been keeping yourself, stranger?” Viola asked Valerie as soon as she got close enough to us where we were standing in the hallway outside of the auditorium. “I thought you’d left town, too. Like Zeke.”
At the mention of Mr. Zeke’s name Valerie shot me a nervous look. I blinked and cleared my throat.
“Oh, I’ve just b
een busy trying to help Mama with Paw Paw,” Valerie said in a weak voice. “Hi, Floyd. Long time no see.”
I heard Floyd snicker under his breath before he responded. “Likewise.” Floyd shifted his weight from one foot to the other and folded his arms. He looked good standing there in his cap and gown. I was more proud of him than I was of myself. For one thing, Glodine and a few other people had not expected him to even make it to high school, let alone graduate. And the fact that he had a job at the mall, too, had a lot of people scratching their heads.
“Lo, you going to be home tomorrow?” Valerie asked, her voice cracking. She didn’t seem like the same girl who had killed a man and buried his body. Now she seemed, looked, and sounded fragile and frightened.
“As far as I know,” I told her in a strong voice. I wanted to make sure I didn’t sound as pitiful as she did.
“I wanted to stop by for a little while. I’ll be going away for a while,” Valerie revealed. I looked at Floyd. He gave me a dumb look and a shrug. Then I looked back at Valerie. She looked away. If I was having nightmares about Mr. Zeke’s murder, I could only imagine what was going through her mind.
“Where you going, Valerie?” Viola asked before I could.
“Oh, I’m going to go to Tennessee where most of Mama’s folks still live. Y’all remember my goosenecked, long-legged Uncle Dobie that came to visit that time when Mama had her hip replacement surgery?” We all nodded and mumbled. “Well, Uncle Dobie had a fit when Mama threatened to put Paw Paw in a home. He said that as long as there was a breath left in his body, bag of bones that that body is, nobody was putting his daddy in no old folks’ home. Mama told him if that’s the case, he needs to bring Paw Paw to Memphis to stay with him.” Valerie paused and sucked in her breath.
I didn’t like the way she was looking at me. It seemed like she didn’t want to take her eyes off mine, and that made me nervous. I also didn’t like the way she looked, period. Her appearance was disturbing. She’d lost at least ten pounds since that night and resembled a bag of bones herself. Her face looked bony and hollow, like the face on a skull. “I’m going to escort Paw Paw back to Memphis. We’re leaving tomorrow around noon.” I hadn’t seen such a desperate look on her face since the last time I saw Mr. Zeke slap her for sassing him. Valerie suddenly looked away and took her time facing me again when I spoke.
“When are you coming back?” I asked. I had other female friends, and I had Floyd, but I had a special relationship with Valerie. Especially now.
“I . . . I don’t know,” she said with uncertainty, and a heavy sigh. She looked at me and shook her head. “I might not come back this way. Binkie and Liz are moving in with Aunt Hazel in Compton.” Valerie gave me a strange look. I had asked her time and time again why her mother allowed the younger kids to remain in that house with Mr. Zeke when they had relatives they could move in with. This was not the time, or the place, to ask her why they were finally moving out now that Mr. Zeke was gone and no longer posed a threat. But I think I knew why they had stayed and experienced and witnessed so much abuse. It was the same reason that Valerie stayed. They wanted to be there to support and protect their mother. I blinked back a tear. Things were happening too fast for me. What had happened on prom night had already made me lose my grip on reality. Now I’d have to deal with the absence of my best friend. “And with me on my way, Mama’s thinking about closing up the bar and coming to Memphis herself.”
“What about your mama’s house?” I asked. Miss Naomi had inherited the house from Paw Paw. Like the bar, the house was Miss Naomi’s, free and clear. As slovenly and mean as Mr. Zeke had been the last few years of his life, he had contributed a lot in the upkeep of the house. He’d even painted the whole thing all by himself two years ago. And he’d been good about maintaining the lawn and trimming all the trees in both yards. I shuddered when I recalled how much time he’d spent trimming the fig tree that he was buried under. With all the work that he had done, it was no wonder that that house was still the most attractive one on the block, even after all these years. Viola often said that Miss Naomi could probably sell the house for several times more than Paw Paw had originally paid for it.
“What about my mama’s house?” Valerie asked sharply. I knew that she knew what I was thinking. And that was—that pretty house had an ugly story to tell that Valerie didn’t want anybody else to hear. For the record, I didn’t either. What if some new tenants decided they wanted a pool in the backyard? Or what if they wanted to uproot that fig tree? It wouldn’t take a sharp forensics investigator long to identify Mr. Zeke’s body and to determine how he died! I’d watched enough crime shows on television to know that even though I had not even touched Mr. Zeke, I was still an accomplice. And even if I was lucky, at the very least I could get a couple of years in some women’s prison.
“Your mama finally going to sell that showpiece of a house?” Floyd asked, clearing his throat. I knew that he was uncomfortable standing in front of Valerie. They had never been that close. As a matter of fact, the only connection they had was me.
“I wish I was in financial shape enough to buy it.” Viola swooned. “I’d trade your mama’s house for that ramshackle mess I’m in any day. Course I wouldn’t get to enjoy it that long, and the one that would benefit the most would be my nephew in San Diego.”
“Mama’s not selling our house. Not now, not ever,” Valerie said with a quick and firm nod. “As long as I live, it’s going to stay in our family. That way, I can make sure it’s, uh, kept up the way my real daddy would have wanted.” Valerie looked at me and blinked hard. “Dolores, I’ll write to you when I get settled.”
“I’ll still be here,” I said, squeezing Floyd’s hand.
Valerie cleared her throat and turned to Floyd. “You better take care of my girl while I’m gone.” He gave her a bear hug and patted her on the back.
“Take care of yourself, V,” he said, giving her a quick peck on the cheek and a firm squeeze around her narrow waist. Then just like that, she was gone.
I was glad that Floyd had to work later that night. It was just as well. Not only did I not want to attend any of the after-graduation parties, but I didn’t want to spend the night with him, either. Romance and the “good fucking” that Floyd had been threatening to give to me for the past two nights was the last thing on my mind.
Thanks to Valerie, all I wanted was to be alone. I had too many things to think about, and getting fucked wasn’t one of them. For one thing her recent behavior toward me had put me in a royal blue funk that seemed to intensify with each day. What she’d just told me sent me to an even lower level of sadness. In addition to everything else, now I had to worry about Valerie confessing her crime to somebody in Tennessee and dragging my name into it.
Valerie had a big mouth, and a conscience. After a few too many drinks, or a few puffs on a strong blunt, she usually shot her mouth off like a Gatling gun. I could easily believe that with her conscience combined with alcohol or weed, there was a chance that she might eventually confess to every murder since Kennedy’s. And I had no way of knowing how big a role she’d claim I played in her mess. For all I knew, she could put more of the blame on me to lessen her own. She, along with her mama’s support, could say whatever she wanted to say about me, and it would be their word against mine.
There was no telling how big a can of worms Valerie could open in Tennessee with her long tongue and loose lips. Should that happen, I wouldn’t hear about it until it was too late for me to prepare a defense, or sneak my ass on down to Mexico and live the rest of my days as a fugitive. I knew that if I went to a good lawyer and told him everything, it might do me some good. However, I wouldn’t do that until, if and when, Valerie or her mother broke down and confessed first.
One thing I knew for sure was that I’d never be the one to spill the beans. Not even on my deathbed. And it was not just because I was only slightly involved. Like a lot of black folks in L.A., I was skeptical when it came to the police—and had every reason t
o be. Especially after that Rodney King mess that we’d all struggled through—not to mention the fact that Mr. Zeke had once been a policeman.
I planned to live each day like it was my last, because one day it would be.
CHAPTER 19
That Floyd. That boy was one person who usually didn’t stop trying until he got what he wanted. Especially when what he wanted was something I had. And that usually meant what I had between my thighs.
That night of graduation, Floyd got his way with me, again. After he left his usher job that night at the Tri-Plex Cinema a couple of miles from our street, he called me up from his cellular phone as he stood on the front porch of Viola’s house. Mumbling profanities under my breath the whole time, I threw on my housecoat and tiptoed downstairs. Except for a howling dog, it was quiet outside when I cracked open the door and peered out. I gave Floyd an exasperated look. “What’s wrong with you?” I snarled.
“It took you long enough to answer that door,” he grumbled, pinching my ass as he followed behind me across the living room floor. He wore a pair of tight black jeans, ripped on both knees, and a loose-fitting blue shirt, unbuttoned all the way down the front. It was hard to believe that this was the same brother I’d admired a few hours earlier in his cap and gown. “I wanted to see you,” he whined. “With a lady like you, what else could I do? I couldn’t help myself.”
“I was in the bed,” I snapped, whirling around to face him, slapping his hand. “And I’d like to get back in it.” Viola always kept fresh flowers in the living room. There was a large vase on one of the tables at the end of her sofa that was filled with red roses. There was an even larger vase on the other end table. It contained an elaborate bouquet that that manipulative nephew of hers had dropped off earlier in the day. Despite the floral fragrance that filled the living room, I could still smell what was left of the last batch of tea cakes Viola had baked just before she went to bed.
