Out a Order (4 page)

A
t Jasmine Davenport's funeral a grief-stricken neighborhood of family and friends gathered at the girl's grave site.

It was such a shame.

Jasmine had been a precocious, smart, and loving little girl. She was a giver and had shared with all her friends, even those less fortunate than her.

She'd been like a ray of sunshine in the neighborhood that all of the other children had orbited around. She always hugged and greeted her friends when she came outside to play. She generated warmth and caring that wasn't always common, even among children.

The adults loved her. She could read at levels way beyond her years. This fact alone made her a teacher's favorite. She had excellent manners and she was polite. She'd never been known to be a fresh kid.

Sometimes she ran errands to the corner store for some of the older residents. She'd even pick up their newspapers from their yards or porches and bring them inside for them.

Her death was tragic beyond belief.

Marcus was still frightened at the way she had been killed. He looked shell-shocked. He stood near Shannon and Tawney whom he had practically attached himself to since Jazz's death.

He had begged his mom to let him attend the services. He hadn't wanted Jazz to feel alone as though her friends had abandoned her. It was bad enough she was alone in that big old box. After much drama he had convinced his mother he could handle this, and handle it he would. He stood a little taller trying to rep for his best friend lying silently in her coffin.

Aisha, who was like the other half of Jasmine's tag team, held tightly to her mother's hand. Like Marcus, she had insisted she be in attendance. Under the circumstances they were both displaying remarkable maturity for their ages.

Marcus and Aisha exchanged looks. That one look between them said it all. They were there for their friend Jazz until the end.

Marcus looked up at Shannon, who was tense and withdrawn. His look drew Shannon's attention. Shannon reached for his hand, clasping it warmly in his own.

Rico and his crew were in attendance.

The minister's voice droned on.

A small coffin sat in a circle draped with flowers. Inside, one tiny child rested alone in darkness. All sound and life had ceased to exist for her.

The minister was saying, “Ashes to ashes and dust to dust.”

 

 

Dressed down in a sharp-looking black suit, Spence cruised up behind some tombstones. He raised his rifle with the scope once again.

This time he would take Rico out.

Spence centered Rico in the hairs of his scope. He had the shot. He took it. Automatic gunfire split the air. Spence tumbled backward. Rico and his crew were armed and ready. Their guns clicked quickly into place. The mourners ran and screamed.

Tawney fell across the top of her daughter's coffin. Shannon looked wildly around trying to spot the gunmen. Shots were still being fired. He threw Marcus to the ground and pulled Tawney off the coffin, throwing his body on top of her.

When the shooting stopped, Shannon looked up to see Eight Ball standing in front of him with the body of Spence, dripping with blood. There was a gaping hole in the middle of his forehead.

Eight Ball dropped the body into the fresh grave that had been dug for Jasmine. He stood staring at Shannon. Just as quickly as Eight Ball appeared, he was ghost, he disappeared, leaving a stunned Shannon on his knees beside his daughter's coffin.

Cars and Jeeps revved up, rolling out of the cemetery. Temaine shouted out of the car at Shannon, “We take care of our own, Mr. Davenport!” The car careened away, spraying dirt and gravel in its wake.

 

 

That night Tawney sat in the corner of her bedroom with her knees pulled up to her chin. The bedroom was decorated with warm muted colors, but she drew no comfort from a room she had once taken great pride in. Her eyes were blank and slightly unfocused.

Shannon got up from the bed. He wandered to the window. He lit a cigarette. “Tawney, we need to talk.”

Tawney shot him a cold stare. “About?”

“About? How can you ask me that? Damn it, Tawney, this is not my fault. Jasmine was my daughter too.”

Tawney jumped to her feet. “And you think the way to vindicate her death is to resort to your old ways?”

She snapped her fingers. “Just like that, justice is served.”

Shannon narrowed his eyes. His voice was dangerously low. “What are you talking about, Tawney?”

“I'm talking about that disgusting little play of power that was acted out at my daughter's funeral. It's not bad enough that I lost my baby, is it, Shannon? Nope. That's not the hell enough. I also have to be subjected to a bunch of petty-ass street gangsters who think that they are the law.”

“Let me tell you something. That's why I work every day, because I want to get out. I thought you did too. But I was wrong, wasn't I? Tell me I'm not wrong, damn you.”

Shannon said nothing.

“Are you listening to me? People are afraid to go out after dark. Old people are scared to go to the store. In downtown Newark you can be shot just for being down there too late.”

“You think I enjoy driving past corners, when I come home at night, filled with angry young black men who would just as soon hurt me, shoot me, and rob me as look at me? No. I'll tell you, I don't enjoy that at all. That's why I was trying to get out. But you don't care. Do you? This is your stomping ground. You've been lying to me. You don't care about getting out.”

Tawney panted. She was in deep.

She shook her head. “You're afraid of the real world, Shannon. Why don't you just admit it? But you know what? You can just stay in this hellhole with them and think about how they cost you your daughter.”

Shannon nodded at her logic. “This is my world, Tawney. And nobody is going to run me out of it. As for your world, it's a fantasy. All in your head.” He pointed to his temple.

Tawney fumed. “Do you want to know what your world is?”

“What? Go ahead. I know you're going to run it down for me anyway, right?”

“Damn straight I am. Try destruction. It is nothing but pure destruction. Satan can't cast out Satan, Shannon.”

“Shove it, Tawney.” The hint of a smile tugged at Shannon's lips. “You think I miss the streets so much that I would disrespect my dead child's funeral?”

“I think you miss whatever power you perceived yourself as having. I know you hate the fact that I make money and you don't. Maybe you should get a job to keep you busy.”

Deadly fury spewed from the depths of Shannon's eyes. Unfortunately, Tawney missed the subtle change.

“Once a gangster, always a gangster. People warned me but I didn't listen. Now you have cost me the only good thing that ever came out of you. And you know what? I hate you for that. Yeah. Uh-huh. I hate your damn guts. I can't stomach the sight of you.”

“I'm only going to say this once. So listen closely. I don't know what happened at the cemetery today, but I intend to find out.”

His eyes found hers. They gripped her in their malice.

“Yeah. You just do that. You be the law, right?”

Shannon knocked the television from its stand; it banged into the wall with a loud crash. Tawney flinched.

“Naw. I ain't the law. That corporation you work for is the law. It's your law. That's why you didn't have enough time to spend with your daughter. That's why I took care of her. And that's why she's dead now.”

He grabbed the DVD player, hurling it out the window. The splintering glass fractured Tawney's nerves.

“You see, Tawney, you've got your priorities backward. You don't need a man. What you need is a toy, li'l girl. One you can play with when you ain't up in that sorry-ass bank you work for. You know, the one that you worship on a daily basis. Your god!”

Shannon swept his arm across the wall unit, knocking all the contents to the floor. She jumped.

“That's your god, Tawney. Instead of saying please, Jesus, why don't you just say please, Mr. Bank? That's your god. So why don't you call on them and see if they can serve you up some justice by bringing your daughter back? They're powerful, right? So let them raise her from the dead. Damn you! Maybe they can write a check and negotiate to get her life back.”

Tawney was so wounded and stunned she couldn't utter a word in defense. Guilt raced through her veins at his words. He grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her so hard her teeth clattered. “Go ahead. Call them, Tawney.”

Automatic gunfire shattered the windows. Shannon threw her to the floor. For the second time that day he threw his body on top of hers.

The room erupted in a blaze of gunfire. Holes quickly appeared in the walls, as glass rained down through the room. Then there was silence.

D
owntown Newark was a busy place, even at night. The peddlers, were roaming the streets hawking their wares. There were a lot of people on the streets.

A group of young men were loitering outside the game room as the police cruiser glided leisurely by. Lombardo was at the wheel. Campbell was riding shotgun.

They waved at their fellow officers who were manning the makeshift police station that had been set up at the corner of Broad and Market.

The radio inside the cruiser crackled. “Campbell and Lombardo, you there?”

Campbell reached for the instrument. “We're here. What've you got?”

“What's your location?”

“Broad and Market.”

“Good. Get over to Muhammad Ali Boulevard. Reports of automatic gunfire have been reported. And Campbell brace yourself.”

“Why?”

“It's the Davenport residence.”

Campbell and Lombardo exchanged swift glances as Lombardo jerked the wheel, doing a U-turn in the middle of the street. “Thanks, David. I owe you.”

“Not a thing, my man.” The dispatcher clicked off. Campbell replaced the instrument in its holder. He and the dispatcher had talked about this case earlier. He had had a feeling it wasn't over. Somehow he'd known it was an open-ended chapter. The girl's father was not going to take this lying down.

He stared thoughtfully out the window.

“What's going on here, Lombardo? The girl gets shot and her distraught father is running behind the stretcher at the hospital. Conveniently a body is dropped into the grave that belongs to the little girl at the funeral. And now automatic gunfire is ripping through my man's house. Is he really a victim? Or is there a bigger picture going on here?”

Lombardo shrugged. “I ran a sheet on him out of curiosity. He hasn't been involved in anything that I can see since the birth of his daughter. All activity on him stopped practically on the day she was born. Unless he's gotten a lot more clever.”

Campbell stroked his mustache while staring out of the window. “His daughter was eight, right?”

“Bingo.”

“I don't know. If it's just circumstances, then this brother is getting a bad break. If it's more than that, then something is brewing right under our noses. Whatever answer happens to be the right one, one thing is for sure.”

Lombardo hooked a corner on two wheels. When the car was back on four wheels it bucked forward.

“What's that?”

“Our Mr. Davenport is one dangerous man. He's not to be taken lightly.”

“You ran a sheet on him?”

Campbell laughed. “You might say that. I looked into a different type of law. I discovered an ocean of blood. None with his name attached, but there just the same.”

Lombardo tossed Campbell a brief look.

Campbell nodded.

“Well, let's see what my man has to say. But I guarantee you it probably won't be much. We don't have a lot to go on. We might walk out with a big zero, but we're going to have to lean on him heavy tonight.”

Lombardo smiled. His voice took on a deadly tone. “Let's do it. If he spills any blood that I can prove in my territory, then I will become his looking glass. There's only one law, and he's not it.”

Lombardo put the pedal to the metal, in pursuit of Shannon Davenport.

The street in front of the Davenport residence was filled with people. Police cruisers were in the middle of the street with their flashing lights. Some of the residents were in their nightclothes. Police dogs were roaming the street sniffing for a scent.

The car carrying Lombardo and Campbell squealed to a halt. They jumped out. Rushing through the crowd, they made their way up onto the porch.

The living room was decorated in soft leathers with a touch of class. A scattering of sofas sat throughout the room. A beautiful large aquarium took up almost an entire wall in the room.

Exotic fish in a beautiful array of colors swam nonchalantly through the water. There was also a gold birdcage hanging from the ceiling that was empty.

Tawney was standing in a corner with a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her hands were wrapped around a mug of hot chocolate as though her life depended on it.

Shannon was smoking and looking out of a side window with his back turned to the entire chaotic scene. A brightly colored parrot sat on his shoulder.

The police were roaming around with gloves on and little plastic bags in their hands. Campbell and Lombardo strolled into the living room as though they owned the place. They immediately focused on Shannon.

“Trouble again, Mr. Davenport?” Lombardo said.

Shannon stubbed out the cigarette in a nearby ashtray. He never turned from the window. “Back off, cracker.”

Lombardo's face turned a bright shade of red. “We can do this nice, Davenport, or we can do this different. It's your choice.”

“We can do this any way you want, Mr. Police Officer. It don't make a damn bit of difference to me.” He turned away from the window to face Lombardo.

Campbell stepped forward quickly. “We'd like to do this orderly.”

Shannon exploded. “Orderly. You want to do this orderly?”

The parrot flew off his shoulder to the top of his cage.

“You call this order? This is definitely out a' order, my man. A bunch of street punks shoot my daughter. Then they arrive at her funeral and do another body drop, and tonight automatic gunfire rips through my bedroom where I sleep with my wife, and my daughter isn't cold in her grave yet!”

Shannon's eyes shot flames of fire. “And you! You! Instead of being out on the streets you're in my house, in my damn house wanting to question me again. Right? Well? Isn't that right?”

The police didn't answer.

“And you want to talk to me about order. I don't think so. I'll tell you what I think. This is
out a' order!
This is
out a' line!
This is all a lie!”

Shannon pointed to his wife. “She's living a lie.”

Lombardo and Campbell looked at each other. Tawney never came out of her stupor. Shannon pointed at Lombardo and Campbell. “You're living a lie.”

He pointed to the rest of the police. “They're living a lie. This whole damn world is living a lie. But you want to know something?”

He walked directly up to Campbell eyeball to eyeball. “I'm a man who knows how to get to the bottom of lies. Believe that. Now, if you still want to talk to me you can do it downtown, because as you can see, my wife is in no condition to listen to this.”

Campbell nodded. He turned to Lombardo. “We'll wait for him outside.”

Lombardo seethed. Smoke could've popped out of his ears. He clapped his hands. “Nice performance, Davenport. Certainly Oscar-worthy.”

Shannon lunged for him. The cops positioned themselves.

Campbell stepped firmly in front of him. “It's not worth it. You'll lose,” he whispered so only Shannon could hear. Shannon took a deep breath. Lombardo put his hand on his nightstick.

Campbell pointed to the street. “That's us. You've got three minutes.”

Shannon put his mouth close to Campbell's ear in turn. “Yeah. Okay. But you'd better teach that dog some new tricks, because he's out of bounds.”

Campbell observed the pulse that was beating heartily in Shannon's neck. He nodded to appease him and calm the waters.

Shannon walked into the kitchen.

The parrot flew off the top of his birdcage, landing on Shannon's shoulder.

Tawney's mother was sitting at the kitchen table. She had a scared look on her face. The day had gone from black to blacker to midnight. And right now she felt like they were all treading fires in the midst of hell. She was casting nervous glances into the living room.

And meanwhile all she could see in her mind's eye was her granddaughter picking flowers from among the weeds to give to the old people, so as to brighten their day.

Once she had asked her why she did it. Jasmine had treated her to a beautiful look of innocence. “Because it makes them smile, Grandme,” she said, using the nickname she had created especially for her grandmother.

“Mama Sue, can you stay with Tawney?” Shannon said, breaking into her memories.

He already knew Tawney's mother would not be leaving his house unless it was under gunpoint. She wasn't about to leave her daughter in the midst of this madness.

It was a strictly mechanical question on his part. He needed something to say. He had always respected Tawney's mother because she knew how to mind her own business. She also knew how to have a person's back.

She gave him a shrewd look. “Where are you going?”

“Downtown with the police.”

“Why?”

“Because the police are fools who don't know where to search for real clues. And because I have a criminal record.”

“You haven't been in any trouble since Jazz was born, Shannon. Surely they don't think . . .”

He touched her gently on the shoulder. “My own woman isn't sure. How can I expect them to be?”

Tears glistened in Mama Sue's eyes. Shannon was like a son to her. She had always believed in him. Even when he was in the streets, there was a trait to him that was somehow different.

She didn't let him down now. “Well, I'm sure, Shannon! You wouldn't have anything to do with this and I know it. Nobody's going to tell me any different.”

Tears glistened in her eyes at the losses and the heavy cost they were all paying.

Shannon dropped a light kiss on her temple. “Thanks. I always said you were worth your weight in gold. I was right.”

“Be careful, baby,” Mama Sue said, reaching for his hand.

“Don't worry. Just take care of Tawney for me. Okay? She isn't taking this too well. Justice is right around the corner.”

He strode out of the kitchen. Mama Sue watched him with a troubled expression on her face.

As Shannon reentered the living room the parrot flew off his shoulder back to the top of its gilded cage. “Ark. The police are fools. The police are fools. Ark. The police are fools,” he mimicked Shannon.

The cops turned to stare at the parrot. Shannon smiled. He had trained Pete well. He strode out the front door into the waiting cruiser. The sirens wailed as they sped away into the night. It was just another night in the Central Ward.