Standing at the Scratch Line (73 page)

“Think about it,” Serena suggested. “Remember when those two Negroes from up north were accused of robbing the governor’s residence of thousands of dollars in gold and silver dishes? Or when those rice farmers were charged with raping three white women? From what I heard when they climbed the gallows, it looked like they had been tortured and beaten. No one knew where they had been hidden and those were important cases.”

“Why is Mack keeping them hidden?” Claude asked. “Maybe if we knew that, all the rest would fall into place.”

“I think you’re right,” Serena agreed. “The only thing that stands out in my mind is the time King shot up Klan headquarters for those deeds.”

“He was the one that did that?” Journer asked with a surprised expression on her face. “I thought that was done by a white man.”

Claude nodded. “I figured it was him, particularly when he paid everybody back for money lost on the investment. That Possum Hollow property hasn’t sold yet.”

“Hot damn! King Tremain is some kind of Negro!” Dirty Red said, slapping his thigh. “It couldn’t be nobody else but him! Shot up Klan headquarters! Hoo boy!”

“He didn’t tell you?” Serena asked Claude.

“No, he plays things close to his chest.”

“You right,” agreed Dirty Red. “He don’t tell you nothin’ unless you’s involved and even then, he ain’t wordy.”

“Those deeds might be it,” Claude mused. “That new highway’s route hasn’t been finalized yet. If it travels along the path through Possum Hollow and Mack had title to that land, he could attract the type of money to invest in all that coastal property. He could make millions!”

“Maybe we can get those deeds back from New York and bargain for their lives,” Journer suggested.

“You can’t trust the sheriff!” Dirty Red exclaimed. “You can’t bargain with him! He’ll turn on you after he gets what he wants!”

“I think Red’s right,” Claude agreed sadly. “We’ve got to find Phillip and King before Mack recovers from his surgery. If we don’t have them before that, we best prepare the winding sheets.”

“What if I got a job at the hospital where the sheriff is recuperating?” Serena suggested. “Maybe I could find out something.”

Claude responded. “We have people all over that hospital and they haven’t uncovered a thing! I think the country club is a better bet because that’s where LeGrande spends a lot of time. It’s where Corlis used to conduct his business.”

“Perhaps Journer and I could go together tomorrow and apply for work there.”

“You best go by yo’self,” Journer said. “The chief porter responsible for hiring the colored help don’t hire no dark-skinned girls to work there. You got to be light, or high yellow.”

“I’ll go by myself then,” Serena said. “I’m getting tired, but I would like to hear how King was captured. It isn’t like him to give up without a fight!”

“He and Phillip broke me out of city jail and wouldn’t have been caught if some Uncle Tom Negro hadn’t identified them to the police while they was gettin’ away through Saint Mary of Magdalen School.” Journer asserted. “They didn’t dare fight it ’cause they were surrounded by colored children gettin’ out of Sunday school.”

“We know who that Tom is too! Sampson saw him callin’ to the police!” Dirty Red declared. “He the bell captain from the Hotel Toussant! We got people out lookin’ for him! He in hidin’ now, but he gon’ come out soon. Then we’ll get him!”

“King was taken without firing a shot?” Serena questioned.

Claude nodded. “He didn’t have a choice. The police would have opened fire while the children were all around. Many a child would have died if they had fought it out.”

Serena asked, “Why was Journer arrested?”

Journer answered. “They were tryin’ to find King and they were pretty sure I knew where he was.”

Serena frowned. “How did they figure Journer was a link to King?”

“We don’t know the answer to that,” Claude said. “All we know is that Journer was picked up in the market on Friday and King and Phillip broke her out of jail on Sunday.”

“While I was locked up, they beat me and kept at me about King,” Journer explained. “But I didn’t tell ’em nothin’ ’cause I didn’t know nothin’! But I sho’ was happy to see them boys Sunday mornin’!”

“How did you get away?” Serena asked Journer.

“They had a good plan! They brought me a change of clothes, so’s I’d look like a housemaid and they put me on the back of one them carriages that wait for Mass to end outside Saint Mary’s. I rode right past them police.”

Dirty Red joined in. “After she was gone, the two of ’em cut back through Saint Mary’s grounds, headin’ for the river. That’s when that bell captain saw ’em and gave a shout! Them kids was let out of school just as the police was closin’ in. They didn’t have no choice but to throw up their hands.”

Serena stood up and swayed unsteadily. She was exhausted, as if she had been toiling for long hours back on her father’s farm. Sampson was at her side at once and she leaned heavily on him as he assisted her up the stairs to her room. At the door she asked him if he was hopeful about King’s being alive, and Sampson signed in response that now that she was in New Orleans, he knew everything was going to be alright.

Serena turned and buried her face on his shoulder and wept silently. The tears flowed as if they were supplied by the great, meandering Mississippi; they had washed over all her restraining levees and were seeking their own way to the sea.

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“I expects you all to be punctual for this here presentin’ line,” the head porter declared angrily, walking back and forth in front of the men and women standing in line for his inspection. He was a tall, brown-skinned man with ramrod-straight posture who held his head back in such a position that he looked down his nose when he addressed his subordinates. “I requires that every man jack of you be here and dressed in a clean uniform by seven o’clock in the mornin’! Anybody that got a problem with that best be lookin’ fo’ work somewheres else!” He gave a particular stare at a pretty, light brown–skinned woman standing at the far end of the line. “This here establishment is the Lafayette Social Club! It been here more’n a hundred years, servin’ some of the finest families in New Orleans Parish! We expects and demands the very best from the colored help! And I, Clarence Thomas, is in charge of makin’ that happen!”

The head porter paced in front of the line of his subordinates, letting his words sink in. Occasionally, he would stop in front of a particular individual and give him or her a stern look. None of the people in the line dared murmur a word or do anything but look straight ahead.

“Alright! Present hands and gloves and head ties!” Thomas ordered. “Thelmina, bring me my rod!” A plump, dark-skinned woman in her midfifties came out from behind the counter that separated the kitchen from the prep room and handed Thomas a thirty-inch-long pole, three quarters of an inch in diameter. Thomas then proceeded down the line, inspecting both sides of each pair of hands. Each of the male waiters presented a pair of white gloves after his hands were inspected. Each woman wore a white cotton head-tie tied in the same manner. Thomas took his time examining these articles as well, ensuring that there were no stains or blotches marring the stark whiteness of the material.

“Alright! Get to yo’ stations!” Thomas ordered after he had completed his inspection. “I want there to be clean glasses and fresh ice water at each station befo’ eight o’clock openin’! Get to gettin’!”

“Thelmina, get started with the mornin’ setup!” Thelmina hurried to do his bidding. Thomas walked over to where Serena was waiting. “What do we have here?” the head porter asked, looking Serena up and down. He put his rod under his arm and awaited her response.

Serena stood a little straighter as she answered. “A new employee, I hope, Mr. Thomas. My name’s Rena Love, sir.”

“Hmmm,” Thomas grunted approvingly. “You is well spoke. Do you got some schoolin’?”

“Yes sir. In between my farming chores, I tried to get as much as I could.” Serena adopted a solicitous tone as she had been prepped to do. “Due to my mother’s illness, I wasn’t able to finish.” It was a lie, but one she had also been directed to tell.

“Good, good. Too much learnin’ can make a Negro foolish and make him act out of his place, but a little learnin’ stops him from bein’ just any old handkerchief-head field nigger. Let’s see yo’ hands!” Serena proffered her hands. Thomas inspected them, giving particular attention to her nails. “Hmmm,” he grunted. “Let’s see yo’ teeth.” Serena opened her mouth wide. “Good! Good! What you been chewin’?”

“I had a bit of mint, sir. I always try to chew some mint a couple of times a day to keep my breath fresh.”

“You’s a pretty smart girl,” Thomas said with an approving nod. “But the real secret to fresh breath is spearmint.” He withdrew a bag from his pocket. “If you keeps a couple of sprigs with you at all times, you can be sho’ yo’ breath is always gon’ be nice. You got references?”

Serena nodded and handed him a folded note. “Reverend Pendergast has written me something.”

Thomas’s eyebrows raised. “Reverend Pendergast! I do say! You got good folks behind you, girl.” He opened the note and nodded his head as he read it. He looked at Serena. “You done kept accountin’ books fo’ a store? Then you can read and do figgers?”

“Yes, sir.”

“You may be just the type of girl we wants here. I’s gon’ start you off with Thelmina. You gon’ be doin’ setups. You know about settin’ a table?”

“No, sir, but I’m a fast learner.”

“I bet you is, girl. I bet you is. Thelmina, go and see if we can find some uniform to fit her. Shouldn’t be too hard. She just a bit bigger’n Helen.”

Serena’s first day went quickly. She learned how to set tables, how to fold napkins, from which side food was served, how to clear dishes without distracting the diners, which ropes to pull to operate the dumbwaiter. She was also given a tour of the facility by Thelmina.

The second day Serena discovered that there were two taskmasters who ruled over the colored workers at the Lafayette Social Club. Clarence Thomas was in charge of the wait staff. Minnie Stokes, a large, purple black–skinned woman, ran the kitchen. She was the head cook and tyrant over all that transpired within the domain of food preparation.

Serena was preparing a tray for the lunch service when she heard a woman at the serving counter scream in pain. She ran to help and discovered one of the maids bending over, holding her arm. “What happened? Are you alright?” Serena inquired.

Thomas arrived just after Serena. “What the devil is goin’ on?” he demanded.

“That black bitch burned me! She poured scalding soup on my arm!” the maid accused, pointing her uninjured limb at Minnie.

Minnie stood behind the counter and sucked her teeth. She put her hands on her prodigious hips and declared, “I told that high-yeller nigger bitch to keep her hands out’n my food! I don’t let no nigger pick over what I cooks!”

“Minnie, Minnie, you know I is short-staffed,” Thomas complained. “Now, you done crippled me! This girl won’t be able to work today! Somebody get me some fat for this burn!”

Minnie was unrepentant. “You can find a high-yeller dog like that on any corner! You can’t find no cook like me just anywhere! I ain’t gon’ work no place where a damn chippie think she can just put her hands all in the food!”

“What is going on down here?” the maître d’ demanded as he descended the stairs. He was a pale, thin white man with a receding hairline and a long nose. “That caterwauling Negress has upset some of the members!”

“It ain’t nothin’, suh!” Thomas said meekly. His whole bearing had changed in the presence of the maître d’. “Just a little accident. It ain’t nothin’! We takin’ care of it now! We sorry about any discombobulation, Mr. Weston, suh!”

“You better make damn sure that it doesn’t happen again, Clarence! I’m holding you responsible!” Weston turned on his heel and headed back up the stairs.

“Damn it, Minnie! You done put my ass on the line!” Thomas said bitterly. “Thelmina, take Dietra to the infirmary and get her arm bandaged.”

“Keep that tramp out’n my food and yo’ life gon’ be grits and honey again,” Minnie said as she moved some pots around on the stove.