Harlem Redux

by Persia Walker

  “So what happened after Gem’s breakup with Snyder?”

  She leaned back and stretched out. “Gem came to me, desperate for a place to hunker down until the uproar blew over. She felt that everyone was talking about her. I assured her it really wasn’t quite that bad, but Gem is certain the world revolves around her. She wanted to use our house in Amagansett. It’s quiet there, very peaceful and beautiful. The perfect setting for a lovely woman who wants to withdraw from the world.”

  She exhaled and streams of smoke flowed out of her narrow nostrils. Then she rounded her cherry-bud lips and blew. A smoke ring emerged and floated upward. “That was the last time I saw her. I’m not even sure she stayed at the house a full two weeks. After about eight days, I received a note, saying she’d decided to catch a boat back to Paris. By the time the note arrived, she was gone. Left without even dropping by to see me.” Nella actually sounded injured.

  “Who gave her the money to leave?”

  “I haven’t a clue. Maybe she sold some of that marvelous jewelry Adrian gave her.”

  Nella sat up and ground the smoking cigarette into an ashtray. Standing up, she walked over to her window. David joined her. She had a captivating view of Central Park and lower Manhattan. Together, they looked down on Fifth Avenue. A mixture of cars and carriages snaked down the avenue. It was an impressive vista, but he didn’t really see it. His thoughts were of Gem and Paris. The City of Light seemed unreal and unimaginably distant. What was she doing over there, so far away?

  “Perhaps it was neither Jameson nor Adrian that caused her to leave,” Nella said. “Gem was born with wings on her feet. Not even she knows what she’s searching for. But she is determined to have a good time finding it.”

  Yes, that sounded like Gem. She had never had time to stop in any one place for too long. She’d been running, running, for years. But then, David caught himself, so had he.

  “I haven’t heard much from Gem since she went away,” Nella said. “I used to get the occasional postcard, but they stopped a while ago. They always said essentially the same thing: that she’s going to hell in a basket, and loving every minute of it.”

  She turned to him and her eyes searched his. “You come here and dredge up memories …Why, you’ve almost managed to make me sad.”

  She moved closer to him. Her perfume, a rich heavy musk, filled his nostrils. Then her fingertips were on his crotch, stroking the bulge in his pants. She massaged him and he felt the warmth of her hand even through the material. He looked down at her working hand; then back up at her. There was no mistaking the question in her eyes. And no mistaking the answer in his.

  “What’s the matter, Nella? Nikki been away too long?”

  “We made a deal. Remember?”

  He took her hand by the wrist and moved it away. She yielded with good humor, but raised a warning finger. “I’ll let you slide—this time. But the next time you want answers, be prepared to pay on delivery. And the bill’s still open for what I’ve told you so far.” She raised an eyebrow. “With interest.”

  “Good-bye, Nella,” he said, and left.

  Back on the street, he crossed Fifth Avenue and started walking uptown, his shoulders hunched against the cold. It was early evening and the air was frosty, yet many people were out. Black nurses wheeled along their young white charges, chauffeurs walked pampered poodles. David felt so detached from it all, as though he were watching a news reel in which he had no part. Every now and then he had the odd sensation that something had cracked inside him. He could feel pain in his bones. In his fingertips. He wondered how Rachel could accept Lilian’s suicide so easily and be so ready to move on. She did not seem concerned with the why of it. Perhaps it was because she was a nurse: She had learned to deal with death on a daily basis. He wished bitterly that he could be like her.

  And he thought of Gem, of her callous indifference to the news of her sister’s death. She was no doubt too busy living the busy, madcap life of an ex-pat, no doubt with the same no good friends who had abandoned her.

  You’d think she would’ve learned.

  All those years of struggle abroad––she’d run back to it! When he thought of what she’d been through!

  She had tried to settle down with the unlikely figure of a Portuguese nobleman, but fate had been against her. Stripped of her status and wealth, Gem had returned to New York. She had hoped to squeeze money out of Lilian, but had run into the obstacle of a husband. She had tried to seduce him, but that had failed, too.

  Then she had shifted in an unexpected direction. After having tried to destroy Lilian’s marriage, Gem had ostensibly tried to shore it up: She had helped Lilian improve her appearance and found herself another man.

  Why the about-face? Had she really changed?

  Gem was apparently penniless when she arrived, but she had found the money to leave. How? From where? Or who?

  Nella couldn’t say.

  Nella …

  Her story was a bit contradictory, wasn’t it? For example, she confirmed that Gem left soon after her breakup with Adrian Snyder. At the same time, Nella claimed that Gem’s departure was unrelated to her failed affair. She was convinced that Gem loved someone else.

  A Mr. X.

  Who could that be? To his way of thinking, if Gem wasn’t in love with Snyder, then it must have been Sweet. But Nella was adamant that Gem hated Sweet. She believed Gem’s version of what had happened in the parlor that day. David, however, was certain that Nella was wrong. Gem had reversed the roles. Nella had been astute enough to sense that Gem loved someone, but not enough to see through Gem’s ability to rewrite history.

  David’s forehead creased with thought.

  Sweet was undeniably the type of man Gem was drawn to. And he had rejected her. That would have only served to boost her desire for him.

  The creases deepened.

  Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned: a particularly apt saying when applied to Gem. Yet she had apparently swallowed Sweet’s rejection. She had done nothing more than publicly humiliate Lilian and rewrite the tale to favor herself. Given Gem’s ruthless nature, David would have expected her to mount an all-out campaign to bring Sweet either to her bed or to his knees—or both. That she had done so much less—in fact, done nothing—puzzled him.

  Gem had been accepting when he would have expected her to fight. She had swallowed rejection by two men, then simply fled town. Unthinkable.

  And Lilian, dear Lilian, had acted totally out of character, too. She had rejected the intellectuals and artists whose respect she had worked so hard to attain, then befriended a woman she would have normally disdained. She had gone out smoking and drinking, then tried to fire Annie, a servant she loved. She had told Rachel she was pregnant, but instead of being happy, she had cried. Then she had repressed the memory—or pretended to—when she saw Rachel at the church picnic. But whether she had truly forgotten her claim or pretended to, she was not pregnant last July. So she had either lost the baby or, despite her claim of the doctor’s confirmation, never been pregnant to begin with.

  Annie, Rachel, and Nella: Speaking to them had produced more questions than answers. David ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. He was so deep in thought that he barely noticed when a black Lincoln pulled up alongside him. He was oblivious to the hidden hands that drew aside a dark curtain inside the car window and slightly rolled down the window itself. When he finally did look down, it was into the muzzle of a gun.

  15. An Outsider Among Outsiders

  “Get in.”

  David felt a rush of adrenalin that sent his pulse racing. He sensed the blood drain from his brain and with it, his ability to think. His first impulse was to run, but his legs were as immobile as lead. His eyes darted over the street in an automatic search for help. There were plenty of people, but—

  “If you make a move, I’ll blow you away.”

  The window had been rolled down enough for him to see the speaker, or at least to see his eyes. That wasn’t mu
ch, but it was enough to convince him that the man meant business.

  He got in.

  They blindfolded him and took him on a long, swerving drive. If the purpose of the whole exercise was to disorient him, it succeeded. Blind instinct told him that in forty minutes of driving, they hadn’t traveled forty minutes’ worth of distance, but he couldn’t be sure. In fact, he decided he didn’t want to know. If his safety depended on a certain degree of ignorance, he was willing to play along.

  Once at his destination, he was led to a room that smelled of sandalwood. Perfumed hands removed the blindfold. The hands belonged to a lovely woman who smiled at him, then vanished. His eyes went to his host, who sat behind a large, handsome desk, sipping bootlegged brandy and smoking a cigar.

  “There was no need to kidnap me,” David said.

  “Sorry. Sometimes the boys get a little eager.”

  “Why did you want to see me?”

  Snyder shrugged eloquently. “Curiosity, partly. Gem would never say much about her family. Naturally, that kindled my interest.” He gestured toward an armchair. “Sit down.”

  “I would rather stand.”

  “A drink?”

  “No, thank you.”

  David took in the room’s spare Danish furnishings, the eclectic mixture of thirteenth-century Flemish and modern West Indian art on its walls. Two walls were lined with shelves of books. There were bound volumes of United States history, Virgin Island history, Danish history, German philosophy, and Western economic thought. His gaze went back to his host. This was a man who could effortlessly order another man’s death, but he saw no immediate aggression in Snyder’s black eyes: they were cold, yes, and watchful, but thoughtful, too. His rimless spectacles made him look more like a banker than a numbers king. He exuded the assurance of the self-made man and the charisma of one who knows how to build a following. He was a mobster, but intelligent, educated, and cultured. That, David would grant him.

  Snyder rose from behind his desk and went to the leather conference chairs arranged in one corner. He gestured toward one of the matching chairs.

  “We have to talk. Please, sit down.”

  David acquiesced. Snyder pressed a button. Another attractive young woman appeared with a tray of two fresh brandy glasses. Snyder urged one on David.

  “By the way, you shouldn’t be angry at Nella for having introduced me to Gem.”

  David was surprised at Adrian’s bluntness, but he appreciated it. “She meant well, I’m sure, but—”

  “There’s always that ‘but’ with you dicties, isn’t there?”

  “I don’t care about your being West Indian. I do care about your ... business connections.”

  “That would concern someone like you.”

  David’s memory stirred. Someone like you. The phrase struck him as familiar but he was unable to place it. After a moment, he shoved the matter to the edge of his mind, where it hovered briefly before fading away.

  “I enjoyed Gem’s company very much,” Snyder was saying. “I never intended for it to end that way.”

  “Then why did you break up with her?”

  Snyder hesitated.

  “Why did you humiliate her?” David pressed.

  Snyder’s dark eyebrows hovered like storm clouds over his face. “Because ... she asked me to.”

  David’s eyes narrowed.

  “We were a scandal to respectable Harlem,” Snyder said. “She always said she didn’t care. But when I asked her to marry me, she said no.”

  “Because you’re West Indian?”

  “She said that had nothing to do with it. And I believed her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she said she wanted people to think that I had dropped her.”

  This was news. This was indeed unexpected news. David said nothing, but he was thoughtful.

  At the look on David’s face, Snyder sighed. “I know. It’s hard to believe, that anyone would leave me––that anyone would have the temerity to leave me––or worse, that I would let them. But it’s true. It was her, not me. And I loved her. I loved her enough to let her go.”

  David inclined his head. “Even if this is incredible enough to be true, she couldn’t have wanted you to publicly humiliate her.”

  “But she did. She wanted a breakup and she wanted it big. She said that she wanted to give the folks something to remember her by.”

  David could think of only one explanation. He gave Snyder a long, keen look. “Was there someone else?”

  Snyder paused, the merest fraction of a second. “I would’ve known.”

  “Why else would she break up with you?”

  “I don’t know.” A hurt look flitted across his face. “She laughed. She kissed me, and asked me to leave her. I thought it was a joke. But about a week later—we were at Barron’s—she pitched a fit. The world was there. Everybody who was anybody at the jump that night knew what was going on. She cried. She screamed. I had to play along.”

  “She left town after that?”

  “Yes. Didn’t even say good-bye.”

  “So you didn’t give her the money to go?”

  Snyder looked surprised at the question, and thoughtful. “No, actually not. Of course, I used to give her change, but she always spent it—”

  “Then how could she afford passage? Nella told me that Gem was broke. You say you didn’t give her the money. Well, someone had to.”

  Snyder took a slow and thoughtful swallow of his brandy. “You really think she was two-timing me?”

  “I think there are a lot of questions that need answering.”

  “I hope you believe I’ve told you the truth.”

  “Yes,” David nodded. “I do. Gem’s the kind of woman who does the leaving, not the type who’s left. I’m not wondering whether you’ve told me the truth—but why you’ve told me. Not many men want it known that a woman left them.”

  “I’m not telling the world. I’m telling you.”

  “Again, why?”

  “I thought you’d be glad to know.”

  “I am. But why should you care? You don’t know me from Adam. So why would you want to do me favors? Why would you give a rat’s ass what I think?”

  Snyder didn’t answer.

  David studied him. He believed him, but he didn’t trust him. “Did you ever meet Lilian?”

  “A couple of times, when I was out at the house.”

  “And?”

  “She was one of the most sensible women I’ve ever met. Not my type. Not that it matters.” He paused. “What does matter, if I may say so, is that she wasn’t her husband’s type, either.”

  David’s eyes met Snyder’s. “Was Gem?”

  “Yes,” Snyder said reluctantly. “She was.”

  “And did Gem like Sweet?”

  “She had absolutely no interest in him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Very. Gem knew I wouldn’t have tolerated two-timing.”

  David raised an eyebrow. Why should Gem care what Snyder would tolerate when she planned to break up with him? Surely, he saw that.

  “Okay, let’s be frank. You brought me here for a reason. And you told me the truth about your breakup—for a reason. You want me to find out what went wrong between you and Gem. Isn’t that what this is all about?”

  “I want to know what happened. It sounds crazy, but I can’t get her out of my mind.” Snyder leaned forward. “Tell me, have you heard from her? Why isn’t she here?”

  “Because she doesn’t want to be.”

  “Did she write and say that?”

  “She didn’t have to.”

  Snyder’s well-clad shoulders sagged. He picked up his glass of brandy and swirled the amber liquid, gazing into it. When he looked up, his eyes held a strange light.

  “What’s your story, David?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “You tell me. You’ve been gone for years. Now, you’re suddenly back. You claim you’ve been working for the Movement, but nobody
there can place you. No one knows who you are anymore.”

  “It’s better that way.”

  “Everyone’s talking.”

  “Let them.”

  Snyder smiled. “You don’t plan on staying long, do you?”

  “No.”

  David downed his brandy, set his glass on the table, and stood up. Snyder accompanied him to the door. He signaled to his man.

  “Make sure he gets home.” Snyder turned back to David. “I can understand why Gem doesn’t like you. But I do. Let’s just say that I know what it’s like to be an outsider among outsiders. If you should decide to stay, or ever need help, my door is always open to you.”

  Adrian Snyder, a murderer and crime boss, a man with whom respectable Harlem refused to associate, offered David his hand in brotherhood. And David, thinking of the odd code of honor that sometimes does exist among thieves, accepted it.

  Snyder’s men again blindfolded David and this time drove him home. By then, it was after six. Night had fallen and the ride was swift panoply of changing shadows. David stared into the darkness, thoughtful.

  Snyder’s claim that it was Gem who left him was surprising, but the more David thought about it, the more it made sense. At least, it fit her personality. So much of what people had been telling him didn’t. Gem was quick to leave a man—as soon as she found another.

  So she must have had another sugar daddy waiting in the wings. Who else, if not Sweet? But if it was Sweet, then where was she? Why wasn’t she there, with him?

  Maybe, Nella was right. Maybe, there was some other Mr. X.

  He would have to be someone big to get her to leave Snyder. But Snyder was pretty big himself. If she snagged a bigger fish than the numbers king, she wouldn’t have hidden it. She sure wouldn’t have gone to the trouble of making herself look bad.

  So why did she do it?

  He couldn’t figure it. Leaving a man was one thing. But pretending to the world that he’d left her—that was another. Snyder saying that Gem had done that was like claiming he’d seen an elephant fly.

  The problem was, David believed him. At least, he thought he did. He didn’t know what to believe anymore. The more questions he asked, the more half-truths he heard. And the less he knew what to believe. It seemed as though everybody was either lying to him or holding back: Lilian never saying a word about getting married or Gem returning; Annie, who must’ve known, keeping mum about Lilian’s pregnancy, real or unreal; and Rachel canonizing a devil like Sweet. He hated to think that the only people who had told him the truth—the full truth, as they knew it—were Nella and Snyder, a white woman and an island man. By everything he’d been taught, they were the kind of people you disbelieved on principle.