Blue Black Skin

by Louis Alexandre Forestier

  “What? What are you talking about?” Questioned emphatically Leroy.

  “Of something that´s neither your business nor mine.” Cynically answered Vince.

  “No, no, keep on talking.” Insisted Leroy addressing Walter.

  “ ... Well, I do not know if I'm fantasizing, but I cannot stop relating all this to the African girl who appeared slaughtered in the same area. That you'll surely remember.” The last sentence was a statement rather than a question.

  The meeting lasted for an hour yet until Walter, visibly drunk, awkwardly got up to go to the bathroom. Upon his return he said goodbye to his friends.

  “Rebecca may be wondering why I have not returned yet. Surely she will throw some dishes on my head as I show up.”

  “Walt, you are not in good condition to drive. Leave the car and I'll take you home.”Offered Leroy, the only one sober.

  “No way, I'm not drunk ... and look at the bright side, at least this time surely I will find little traffic to go home.”

  There were no arguments that would convince the colleague so they had to let him go. Leroy and Vince still remained a while in the bar.

  “What do you think of all this?” Asked the black man.

  “I do not think anything.” Replied his colleague, looking suddenly sober after Kolski´s departure. “Nor should you think if you know what suits you.”

  Leroy shook his head. He did not accept the cynicism of his companion´s words and as he knew Vince well enough he also knew that a battle within his friend was also being raged as a result of Kolski´s revelations.

  “I cannot stop tying the threads, and I do not like where they lead. I'm sure the same happens to you behind your mask.” Leroy said looking at the other in the eyes. As an answer Vince looked down.

  “Come on! Finish that beer once and let´s get out, you will also have Loretta snarling if you arrive so late.” Answered Vince avoiding the question.

  “At least I will not get home drunk.”

  Chapter 7

  “What does Vince think about your ideas?” Asked Loretta to her husband. From the time the three were high school students Loretta, Leroy and Vince were inseparable friends and the woman always took in consideration the views of her former classmate.

  “He does not want to get involved in an issue that goes beyond our capabilities and in an environment that is unknown to us.” Had to admit the husband, taking his wife´s dark hand and planting a kiss on her knuckles. Leroy adored his wife and showed it at every step, but not in a spectacular way.

  “Why didn´t he accept it?” Insisted the young woman. “Vince has always been a focused person.”

  “And you married the wrong man.” Replied Leroy pretending jealousy. Actually he was aware of the feelings that Loretta and Vince had had in their youth.

  “All I want is security for my family, and that includes you in the first place.” Now the woman's tone was a catlike purr.

  “You can be sure that you will not be exposed to any danger. You are what I love most in the world.”Said the cop.

  “Then, with whom are you going to share your suspicions?”

  “I haven´t decided it yet, but that´s what Internal Affairs is for...” He reflected for a second. “I should not have told you anything.”

  The man picked the service weapon, grabbed his jacket and headed for the door, Loretta went his way and kissed him affectionately.

  “I'll support you in whatever you do, but please be careful.”

  Uncle Charley pulled his old Toyota out of the garage and his two young companions got immediately on the vehicle; it was essential to prevent Nubia from being seen by eyes that could be potentially hostile.

  Despite the threatening aspect of the sky they had just got up early that Saturday morning, , in order to go far enough from the city of New York to feel safe.

  Charley had chosen the Bear Mountain State Park, located on the Hudson River upstream. He knew wild places of great beauty located away from the bustle and tourists routes, and the park was associated with indelible memories of the times of his arrival to New York from his native Mississippi. Charley hoped that there they could walk at ease without having to permanently hide.

  At a gas station Marcos replaced him on the wheel, as Charley began to feel pain in his wounded shoulder and the young man held a valid driver's license. After a ride on flat surface they entered the area of mountain roads with many curves but very well designed. Marcos felt hot with his sport coat and stopped momentarily to get off the vehicle and remove the garment. In a moment a police motorcycle showed up and stopped next to the Toyota.

  “Do you have you any problem Sir?”

  “No ... I was just taking off ... “Barely managed to stammer Marcos.

  “Well, go half mile and you can stop safely at a site beside the road.” Said the patrolman sympathetically, ripping away his motorcycle without giving more importance to the event.

  “But ... where did this cop come from? We haven´t crossed anybody in the last half an hour.” Protested the boy while Charley burst into laughter and Nubia watched with a grin.

  They finally reached the site chosen by Uncle Charley. It was a spot covered by a grove and therefore visually insulated where the trees whispered with the soft autumn breeze from the Hudson River.

  While Charley was bringing the food they had prepared from the car and extended a cloth on the grass for a picnic, Nubia took Marcos´ hand and then the couple walked some three hundred steps downward until they reached a narrow stream; the murmur of running water added to the birdsong that took advantage of the daylight hours to get food and take it to their young and nests.

  Nubia sat in the tall grass so that her wide skirt slid up exposing her shapely dark legs. There was nothing casual in her movements, which immediately generated the expected reaction. Marcos kissed her on the lips, then descended through her neck, down all the way until he reached her thighs and then his lips made contact with the jet black skin. Nubia knew that her legs were an irresistible magnet for the young man and administered the attraction gradually to achieve maximum pleasure in their cuddles. Marcos sat on the grass, pulled her shoes and kissed her feet and then began to rise again to his starting point in the thighs.

  Charley had prepared everything in order to get lunch at noon, and decided to stretch and loosen up his legs that were numbed after the long car ride. Chance led him to the same downward path that the young had taken and as he approached the stream the old man realized that behind some tall grass some bodies moved in a rhythmic way that was not completely forgotten to him. He smiled and changed course while pondering what was obviously unfolding before his eyes. Charley had a strong sympathy for Marcos, whom he had adopted as his disciple and generated in him warm feelings that the elder associated with his own family, now distant in space and time. For some reason he could not explain very well he was happy with the evidence that the boy was courting a young black woman with whom, in Charley´s eyes, he was in love.

  Despite some unexpected attitudes of her, the old man had a great feeling of tenderness towards Nubia and explained those attitudes by the great suffering that she had undergone in her young life from the moment of her abduction by traffickers of human beings and all the pain she had witnessed, including the horrible murder of her close friend Sanwarit right before her eyes; in addition Nubia blamed herself for having pushed the girl to a desperate escape attempt.

  Still deeply immersed in his thoughts Charley made his way back to the picnic site. He knew in advance that his relationship with the young couple was going to bring him over time a mixture of sorrows and joys, but felt deeply grateful to have someone who worry about rather than the automatic and empty life he had had before.

  Nubia lay on the grass and fixed her clothes in anticipation that someone could come and see them. Marcos lay beside her apparently asleep after the strenuous sexual intercourse. The woman placed her head on her arms and looked at the arched sky bordered by a frame of tree branches bl
owing in the breeze. Clouds circulated fast on the patches of blue sky and flocks of birds crossed the space. The girl was living idyllic moments as she could not recall earlier in her life. Africa also had a beautiful natural setting, but it was not comparable with this scenario similar to a huge garden.

  The woman then shifted her gaze to Marcos and watched his long, thin extended silhouette on the wild grass. From the first time Nubia had seen Marcos she had marked the boy as the object of her desire. His green eyes, light hair, regular profile and rather introverted and shy character turned him something like the man who met all her preferences. Nubia thought he was the one with whom she would like to start a family and have children. When pondering her sad present situation, in which only anguish and danger had followed her departure from her homeland in Africa, she concluded how distant the fulfillment of her dreams was. But she, Nubia, a descendant of warriors for as many generations as could be remembered would not give up. She stood up and shook Marcos's arm, pulling him out of his sleep.

  They had made their way back to New York and Marcos was driving the car, while Charley was humming an old southern tune that the day spent in the field had brought to his memory. Neither of the two men had noticed the gesture had contracted Nubia's face until she began to gasp and shake while ostensibly issued incomprehensible words, perhaps in her native language.

  As the boy was concentrated in handling Charley was the first to notice the situation the woman was undergoing and alerted his friend who immediately stopped the car at the roadside, out of the way this time.

  “What's wrong?” Asked Marcos alarmed at the expression in Nubia´s face. She uttered a loud cry after which seemed to regain control of her actions. The girl´s huge gazelle eyes filled with tears.

  “I do not know. Something terrible is happening!”

  “ To whom?” Asked immediately Charley, who had learned to take the woman´s omens seriously.

  “I do not know him.”

  “But you feel it is something that concerns us?”

  “Oh, yes!” Nubia heaved that in a sigh. “ It's a horrible feeling to be anxious without knowing why or for whom.”

  Charley, who was sitting in the back row of seats put his hand on her shoulder. The old man had understood that Nubia had an indefinable magical connection with reality and felt respect for her hunches. In his native Mississippi he had met black women endowed with such powers. The events prove the wisdom of not disdaining those unknown and remote connections.

  Chapter 8

  The night before Vince had slept little after a very lively meeting with a Puerto Rican woman from El Barrio; for that reason he asked Leroy to drive the car that morning, while he curled up in the passenger seat and fell asleep almost immediately. The tour began calm and the different instructions received in the police radio were for remote locations, to which they could not arrive in time. At one point Leroy looked askance at the rearview mirror and saw a large black car with dark windows he thought he had already seen earlier; however, as it was an old American model quite common in the streets the detective decided to ignore it.

  Following the usual route the police car still toured two streets and then turned right on an Avenue. Had he looked again the mirror Leroy would have seen that the black car also turned after them, but likely he would not have given importance to that fact either because it was a usual path.

  When they reached the next corner Leroy heard the characteristic siren wail of the fire brigade, so he set on the flashing beacons and approached the edge of the sidewalk to give way to the public service, as is required by law. The sound of the siren woke Vince up so he moved in his seat while his partner watched him smiling.

  “Hi Casanova! You have ...”

  The sentence was interrupted by a hellish burst of automatic weapons. Witnesses who wandered down the street at that time could see that the black car got side by side with the police vehicle, then it stopped by it and two black men with machine guns sprayed it with heavy fire for a few seconds. However, the statements of these witnesses differed on what happened afterwards, product certainly of the shock effect generated by the event.

  Leroy Washington was killed instantly by the murderous bullets riddled; his body stayed in the same position on his seat held by the seat belt. Vince Caruso tried to open the passenger door but his body received multiple impacts and rolled leaving a bloody trail on the pavement. The car of the policemen, when the pressure on the brake was released continued on an automatic operation at low speed but just for a short drive, and was stopped by fire network hydrant, which covered the entire surrounding area with pressurized water.

  After a few moments new sirens from police cars, ambulances and firefighters finally approached.

  When Vince Caruso woke up three days later he found himself completely bandaged and immobilized on the bed, filled with monitoring devices that bothered him and restricted his movements. About three steps from his bed he saw a nurse and tried to talk to her

  The veteran Sergeant Eric Murphy had the bitter task to give Vince Caruso the news about what had happened. Upon learning that his friend had died Vince´s grief had no limits. Murphy leaned his heavy hand on the boy's shoulder leaving him to mourn inconsolably, while the nurse had her eyes put on the control devices to detect eventual out of the ordinary developments. The old sergeant stayed with the wounded man until he saw behind the glass of the room door a familiar figure. He pressed his hand tightly and told Vince.

  “Now I'll leave you in good company. I will return at the end of my shift.”

  Murphy got out and met Loretta Washington behind the door. She was completely emaciated and the old policeman struggled to recognize the beautiful face of his partner's widow.

  “How is he?” Asked succinctly the woman.

  “Inconsolable. He is still in shock.”

  “Maybe it´ll be better if I come some other time.”

  “Of course that´s up to you. But you're the only person who can comfort Vince right now.”

  Murphy left the doorframe and Loretta entered the room. The old policeman peered a moment and saw the two young merge into a hug; although he had had to play that role on numerous occasions, this time Murphy had to wipe away a tear. Both Washington and Caruso had been recruits under his command not so many years ago.

  He told himself.

  Loretta and Vince were silent hand in hand for a long time. In the minds of both circulated memories of happy times when the participants were always three, united by love and friendship. The woman always knew Vince loved her since high school, and he had suffered when she had preferred Leroy, after a process of complex decision making partly under the advice of her father, defender of the black family.

  The decision did not affect however the friendship between the three, dating back to their early youth.

  Laura Sandoval woke up startled by noises she heard from the entrance of her apartment. She glanced at the clock and saw it was just two in the morning. Silently the woman opened the drawer of her night table, drew her gun and cocked it.

  “You can keep the weapon. It´s me.” Said a familiar voice.

  “¡Paddy! What are you doing here and at this hour? You did not tell me you were coming.”

  “Sheila threw me out of the house.” O'Halloran said in reply. He had already taken off his jacket, now pulled his pants and lay down on the bed forcing Laura to move aside. She noticed a strong alcoholic breath, but made no comment.

  “You have still your tie on, and you´ve got to take off your socks.”

  “Damn!” Answered the portly man. He clumsily tried to remove his tie, but it soon became clear that he was not going to get it done so Laura took over the task.

  “Well, leave your damn socks on.” Finally exclaimed the woman. Anyway, what she had heard before was music to her ears.

  “ You leaving home and Sheila ... This time it's serious?”

  “You have heard me. I'
m not leaving my wife. She has thrown me away from home this time. And yes, it is final.”

  Laura did not ask the reasons, because she knew she was the first and principal. She soon felt the man's rough hands sliding over her body and her Latin blood began to boil. Paddy then rode her in the missionary position and the woman opened her legs. Incredibly she loved to have his immense mass of pink flesh on her little body. The girl made some movements with her hips to allow him to penetrate more deeply and devoted herself to enjoy not only the sexual act that she knew Paddy always started rather awkwardly but then ended in glorious form. This time Laura finally celebrated her man had left his Irish wife for her; a triumph that she had obtained after three years of flirtation.

  Eric Murphy turned on the engine of his small old Volkswagen and listened to its rhythm until he was convinced that was working fine. He always expressed his distrust for "these Germans knickknacks" but the truth was that he had already gotten tired of driving those bulky American police cars and enjoyed the agility of his own vehicle.

  Eric was concerned about the tone of voice he noticed when the daughter of his old friend and colleague Mike Flynn, who was now in a hospital, called him earlier. If the girl had turned to her godfather Eric was because she was a serious problem, possibly linked to her abusive husband. Murphy had advised her a thousand times before to formally charge him and get a restraining order, but she had refused to do so ultimately seduced by the false promises of her spouse, not to mention his humiliating and permanent conjugal deceptions.

  As he rang the girl´s house doorbell Eric noticed that there was some activity inside. After a while the door partially opened and his goddaughter´s face appeared. Murphy suspected something and entered directly the house even at the expense of pushing the girl with a little rudeness. Then he saw what she was trying to hide.

  Sheila Flynn O'Halloran´s face exhibited bruises undoubtedly produced by slapping. As he lifted the sleeves of the cardigan she was wearing the police noticed more welts.