Standing at the Scratch Line (101 page)

Serena went down the stairs and into the kitchen. As soon as she entered, she heard Butterball Brown’s gravelly voice yelling at the preparers and second cooks. She waited until he was finished. She had respect for the way he had organized both food and people. Since yesterday, when King had assigned her the responsibility of coordinating the event, she had worked very closely with Butterball and had been impressed with his grasp of the logistics of catering a large affair.

“Cut the fish so that most of the pieces is the same size. That way it take about the same amount of time to cook! And don’t you ever walk away from food cookin’ in hot oil again!” Butterball could have gone on haranguing his staff, but he saw Serena and he stopped. He left the food prep crew with, “You have forty minutes until we do dessert! Be ready to shift in that direction!” He walked over to Serena and ushered her out of the kitchen. “How’s things goin’?” he asked.

“Everything is wonderful. The food is particularly good! I just came in here to tell you that people are asking for you. Um, I believe Ed Harrison and his wife, Leah, and King’s attorney, Ira Goldbaum, were all asking about you!”

“So, Big Ed finally got here, huh?” Butterball said with a smile, his fat jowls dimpling with the effort. “I guess they didn’t tell you, but I don’t normally leave the kitchen until the stove gets turned off. You see, if’en I gots any home fires burnin’, I tends ’em. Never can tell when it might need a log stuck in it!” He gave her a wink and suggestive shake of his round body before he went back into the kitchen.

Serena smiled as she returned to the banquet hall. She stood in the entrance and saw the head of the sleeping-car porters union from Oakland hold plates for his wife at the buffet table. She couldn’t remember his name, but she used to see him and his wife regularly when she and King still lived in West Oakland. Then Serena saw Wydenia Witherspoon and her husband. She was momentarily shocked. Wydenia was the last person she expected to see. Their eyes met and Wydenia waved a greeting. Serena forced a smile on her face and waved back. She watched as Wydenia led her husband toward her. Serena had not made up her mind how she was going to act. She decided to let Wydenia dictate the course of the conversation.

“Serena, it’s so good to see you!” Wydenia effused. “I’d like you to meet my husband, Fred. I had no idea that we’d be seeing each other so soon.”

I’ll bet you didn’t, Serena thought as she shook hands with Fred Witherspoon.

“You folks put on quite an event, Mrs. Tremain,” Fred remarked as he looked around the hall. “There are more movers and shakers in this room than you can believe. Your husband sure knows how to get people together! I met Henry Armstrong, the boxer—surprised me how small he was! Met Josh Gibson too and he surprised me at how big he was! Yes siree, I’m seriously thinking about going into business with your husband on a couple of apartment projects. He seems to know where to find the money to let a colored contractor build a big development project. Hey, isn’t that the saxophone player, Louis Jordan? He played ‘Five Guys Named Moe’ and ‘Choo Choo Ch’Boogie!’ You’ll excuse me ladies, I want to talk with him.” Before Fred walked away he said, “You’re going to be seeing a lot more of us in the future, Mrs. Tremain.”

Serena and Wydenia watched Fred make his way through the crowd before they turned and faced each other. Serena looked Wydenia in the eye. “There’s no reason to pretend. I know you’re only here because Fred sees a business opportunity in working with my husband. We can be polite without being friends.”

“You have it all wrong, Serena. I’m not on the opposing side. You’re a strong woman with a powerful husband. There are going to be a lot of people jealous of you, but I’m not one of them! We can be allies you and me. We think alike.”

“What evidence is there of that?”

Wydenia leaned forward and whispered, “What if I told you that Wanda Goodlett, Tina Patterson, and I persuaded the committee to use a third judge in this year’s cotillion? And that I’ve been empowered by the committee to offer it to you?”

Serena was stunned. The peach she had painfully climbed the tree for that had remained out of reach now fell neatly into her lap. “Wanda Goodlett and Tina Patterson supported me?”

“You can ask them yourself, if you want. They’re sitting over there by the bar with Rosetta Hughes and her husband!”

“Rosetta is here?”

“Yes. She claims that her husband forced her to come. And knowing the level of avarice that Maurice possesses, she might be telling the truth. But I think she’s happy that she’s here. This celebration will be written up in the both the
Bay Reporter
and the
Sun Gazette
tomorrow.” Wydenia chuckled humorlessly. “Unfortunately, what she is most interested in is being seen and acknowledged in the social calendar. Nothing else seems to matter. There’s so much work we could be doing to help our people. It’s a shame to get absorbed in the shallowness and posturing involved with social climbing.”

Serena searched Wydenia’s brown face for a hint of sarcasm or irony, for her words had sent a cold shaft into Serena’s gut. The manner in which Wydenia had made her statement made Serena see it as a total castigation of Rosetta and one that was warranted due to her obvious lack of substance. What Wydenia didn’t know was that Serena’s thinking and standards of success were closer to Rosetta’s than hers. So Serena had been pierced by a dart meant for someone else, a dart that unerringly revealed the shallowness of her own motivation. It made Serena feel uncomfortable. She mumbled, “Look, I’ve got some hostess duties to attend to. Will you excuse me?”

“Sure, I understand,” Wydenia replied with a smile. “You have a lot going on today. Perhaps I can call you for your answer tomorrow after church?”

Serena nodded. “I look forward to hearing from you.” She gave Wydenia a polite smile and turned away into the crowd. Social stature and acceptance: two of the most important things that she had ever wanted were within her grasp and yet the prospect of attaining them seemed tainted. On the far side of the room, Serena saw LaValle and Lisette sitting at a table talking animatedly. From the gestures and the expressions on their faces, it appeared that they were arguing. LaValle had been drinking since he had arrived at one o’clock and it was now nearly three. Serena hurried to intervene. She did not want LaValle to do something that would bring further dishonor on the family. As she made her way through the throng of guests with a smile on her face, she actually felt, for some unknown reason, that she was standing before the shadowy door of a long-unopened basement, a basement in which she had sealed many painful thoughts and images. And what was stranger still was that she knew the door was destined to be opened whether she chose it or not. As she passed through the crowd, she marveled at how quickly the joy could be squeezed out of the attainment of a goal.

Captain Seamus Garrity and King Tremain were standing by the bar. The captain was downing his third double-shot of scotch when King said, “I’m glad you and the missus could make it.”

“Wouldn’t have missed this spread for the world, Tremain,” Garrity answered, brushing his graying hair back from his florid face. “You’ve really gone all out! My wife loves those barbecued oysters. You knew we were coming when you told me you were going to have real Irish whiskey.”

“I know you like a taste every now and then,” King replied.

“Yes, I do occasionally,” Garrity concurred, setting his glass down on the bar for another refill. After his glass was filled again, he turned to King and said in a confidential tone, “Hear you and your boys were out at the polo grounds last night. There’s a rumor going around that you killed Rocky Tisdale and some Molinari thugs while you were out there.”

“You know rumors is like assholes. Everybody got one.”

“Well, there some guys down at the station who feel they have some pretty reliable witnesses. Do you have an alibi?”

“Don’t need one. The last I saw of Tisdale he was going out for some fresh air and a swim with a couple of Molinari’s boys. Why don’t you ask Molinari?”

“It won’t be me doing the asking. Because of the Molinaris involvement, it’ll probably be someone from downtown. They’ll probably assign that fool Hastings to assist in the investigation.”

“An investigation?” King frowned. “I didn’t know they investigated the death of colored folks! I guess they found Tisdale’s body, huh?”

“No! They’re not investigating that! They don’t care about him. The Molinaris are using their political muscle to put some pressure on you.”

“Well, I’ve got plenty witnesses who will testify that I went to a card game afterward.”

Garrity laughed and because he was a stout man, his whole body seemed to shake with each paroxysm. He drank half his drink and advised, “You better watch your back. Molinari is not going to take kindly to you disrupting his plans! They are going to come at you from all angles. They know how to use the legal system well. They have a lot of people paid off.”

“That’s why Judge Sullivan is here,” King explained. “I got lots of people workin’ on improvin’ my situation and unlike Molinari, my taxes is in good shape! I took yo’ advice and got all that cleaned up!”

“If a war breaks out between you and the Molinaris, you know the department will only be interested in arresting your people. You’ll have to be extra careful!”

“Which side will you be on?”

“I’d be on your side. I owe you, but I probably won’t be here. I’m planning on retiring to that horse ranch you helped me buy during Prohibition. In November of this year, I’ll have thirty years in the department and I get a full pension when I retire. I’m gone the day that happens and Maureen can’t wait. She wants to move out there now. Hastings will probably be promoted to take my place. He’s been kissing enough ass to get it! And you know what he feels about Negroes,” Garrity said, his blue eyes squinting at King.

“I know all I need to know about Hastings! Anyway, he might not be around too long. I hear he’s a high-strung type, the type that might eat his gun late at night.”

“Just don’t let them find your fingerprints on the gun.”

“Don’t worry, they won’t.”

“Good. You can’t be too careful.” Garrity nodded. He turned and pointed to someone behind King in the middle of the ballroom. “Hey, isn’t that Big Ed Harrison? I haven’t seen him since Prohibition!”

King smiled. “Yeah, that’s him. You see those two men with him, big as houses? They’re his sons. Come on over! Let me introduce you.”

Garrity grabbed King’s arm. “Listen, before we rejoin the table, I wanted to give you an update on a matter you asked me to check on.” Garrity stepped closer to King and dropped his voice. “What we established last year was that there was an Elroy Fontenot inducted into the army in Chicago in the spring of 1938. Well, now I got more news and it was damned difficult to get!” Garrity pulled a pad from his pocket and flipped through it until he found the page he desired. He squinted at what was written and read slowly, “Fontenot spent two years in the infantry before being transferred into the Nine hundred Sixty-ninth Field Artillery Battalion. His battalion fought in Normandy on D-day and was one of the Negro units to receive a presidential citation.”

“Tell me, goddamn it, Seamus, is he alive? You’s actin’ like a bull that don’t want to leave the chute! Is the boy alive?”

“He was demobilized at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, in February of this year and that’s where the trail goes cold. I’ve sent two men back there to see if there is anyone still around from his artillery battalion or anybody who knows where he might have gone. I even called and told the orphanage that we were looking for him. So they’ll contact us if he checks in.”

“Keep lookin’,” King urged. “I’ll pay whatever’s necessary.” There was no outward evidence, but inside King was jubilant. He felt as if a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. His oldest son was alive and there was still a chance that he would be brought back into the family. King clapped Garrity on the shoulder. “Seamus, the department don’t know who they losin’! You’s a damn good detective!”

“After thirty years in the profession, you develop connections all over the country and if you stay in contact, they can be valuable!”

King nodded but he really didn’t hear what was being said. He was a hundred feet off the ground. The only way the news could have been better was if Elroy had been located. But he had made it home alive. For now that was enough. King took a deep breath and lit a cheroot. He felt expansive. He asked Garrity, “Have you met the seven-month-old star of this occasion, my grandson?” Garrity shook his head, indicating that he hadn’t. “Come over to the table,” King urged. “Let me introduce you!”

Outside the ballroom Serena and LaValle walked up the wide curving staircase to the mezzanine and sat in a couple of wingback chairs next to the balustrade overlooking the main lobby.

As Serena checked her makeup in her powder-case mirror, she stared past the mirror at LaValle’s bruised and swollen face. She had intervened between Lisette and LaValle just before he was about to explode. He lit a cigarette. “Why are you so angry, Val?” she asked as she put her powder case away.

“Come on, Mama! You know! Look at my face! It’s like I have my own conversation piece! I have to explain where I got these bruises to everyone! Nobody believes me when I say it was a car accident. What do I say? My father beat me up? He shouldn’t have made me come! He just wants to humiliate me!”

“I don’t think that’s the reason he wanted you here, Val. I think he wanted the whole family here in support of this event.”

“How can you say that?” LaValle scoffed. He paused and looked at his mother. “Why are you here? You won’t even talk to that black girl Jack’s married to and I know for a fact that you don’t like their baby. Why are you here?”

Serena said nothing. It was true, she didn’t like Jack’s wife, Eartha. Her darkness reminded Serena of Mamie. It seemed to Serena that she had spent the better part of her life dealing with the problems caused by that one black-skinned nigger woman and she didn’t look forward to having another one in her life. Nor did she feel any parental love for Eartha’s dark-skinned whelp. It was solely her agreement with King that caused her to be in attendance, but Serena wouldn’t tell LaValle that.