Listen to the Lambs

by Daniel Black

  Then suddenly Lazarus heard the lambs. Their voices echoed in his head like a thousand whimpering babies. Squeezing his temples, he fumbled a short distance away and collapsed to his knees. As always, the lament transported him to Granddaddy’s front porch, where little Lazarus sat in silence, waiting for the old man to interpret what no child could understand. There was rhythm in the sound, a kind of beat that caused Granddaddy to pat along. The child recalled the old man praying sometimes in the midst of the melody. Once, he fell to his knees and begged God to forgive his sins. “Build me up where I am weak, Lord, and strengthen me where I am torn down!” Lazarus now repeated the lines. “And if you find anything in me that shouldn’t be, take it away from me!” Cinderella stepped toward him, but The Comforter blocked her. “Let him be,” she said. “He’s gotta figure this out on his own.” Soon Lazarus lay upon the earth, tossing wildly, overcome with the wailing of the lambs. He thought he’d figured it out, but obviously there was more.

  Legion stared at him and unleashed unknown tongues. No one knew Legion had the gift, and truth is, e’d vowed never to use it again, but it burbled through his throat like a sudden regurgitation, and e couldn’t stop it. The more it came, the more Legion cried until, like Lazarus, Legion fell upon es knees, with hands extended, and asked God to reveal the clarity Lazarus needed. Cinderella wanted to comfort Lazarus, too. Just to touch him, if nothing else, but once again The Comforter disallowed it. So Cinderella sighed and looked from Legion to Lazarus, hoping that both pleas were answered in one discernible revelation. Elisha wanted to interpret Legion’s tongues, but he didn’t have the gift. He asked The Comforter what Legion had said, but she shook her head, so he let it go.

  As the melody faded, Lazarus rose and stumbled about like a drunk man. Each time he heard the lambs, he saw, in his memory, the same thing: Granddaddy rocking and moaning in the dark, a bright full moon overhead, and himself rocking in oblivion. But for the life of him he couldn’t interpret any new meaning of the song. He didn’t know why it elicited Granddaddy’s tears or why the lambs only sang at night. And, come to think of it, Lazarus didn’t know why Grandma never participated. She lingered somewhere in the house, doing womanly things, and whenever Trey asked about it she raised her hands and said, “I ain’t got nothin’ to do with that. That’s between you, your grandfather, and the Good Shepherd.” She died before Lazarus could ask who the Good Shepherd was.

  All he knew was that the song was sad. It sounded like a Negro spiritual, he thought, with deep, resonant tones and light high notes held continuously over several measures. One might’ve thought a gathering of slave ancestors had come to remind offspring of some unclaimed inheritance or to tell them about something they’d forgotten. But he knew it was something. And he believed it would help solve his case. Legion rose with Lazarus, wiping snot from his upper lip and moisture from his blinking eyes. They met at the foot of Lazarus’s bed.

  Cinderella asked Legion softly, “What were you saying?”

  Legion shrugged. “I don’t know. It just comes out. I haven’t done that in years.”

  “What exactly is it you’re doing?”

  E paused. “It’s called the baptism of the Holy Ghost. I got it when I was living with my aunt. She said it was a special gift people get who seek the Lord earnestly and want to live right. I wanted it, so she prayed for me one night, all night long, until I began to speak in tongues. It just came all of a sudden. I can’t really explain it.”

  “Well, we thank you for it,” The Comforter said. “You covered Lazarus, and that’s what’s important.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Lazarus said, “’cause I don’t know why I keep hearing these lambs crying. I can’t understand fully what it means.”

  “You will,” The Comforter said.

  There was no meal this time. Legion apologized, explaining that old resources had simply gone dry. Es shame shone through es expression, but Lazarus insisted Legion forgive himself. The others agreed. There were a few leftover pieces of bread from the march, Cinderella said, so she ran across the way and retrieved them. When she returned, The Comforter took them, broke them, and disseminated them in small bite-size pieces as Elisha shared a bottle of water he’d found earlier that day. They were not full, but their appetites were diminished so they prayed and lingered in The Upper Room, staring into the dark, wondering what direction their lives would take in the morning.

  Chapter 34

  “Do you promise to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth, so help you God?”

  Lazarus’s eyes almost betrayed him. “I do.”

  “Be seated.”

  The courtroom was a veritable multicultural convention. Whites were the majority, filling one side, while the other held blacks, Latinos, and Asians. The brown folks were primarily media personnel and paralegals. The black folks were Lazarus’s people—Quad, Lizzie, Upper Room residents—and local civil liberties activists, come to ward off yet another black male lynching.

  The previous day, opening statements had been given, which told what everyone already knew: a white woman was dead, a black man was present, open-and-shut case. Who else could it have been? The defense argued it could’ve been anyone but, most important, it wasn’t Lazarus Love III. Somehow this took more than three hours to say, so the judge delayed proceedings until the following morning.

  Now Lazarus sat upon the witness stand, trembling. Aaron had said it was risky business, calling him to testify, much less first, but had a strategy he believed would work. Lazarus had had second thoughts. His tongue felt thick and heavy, and he wasn’t sure it would move. Plus, his mind was so jumbled he feared he couldn’t recall anything. Too late now, he thought, grazing over the faces of friends and strangers. I gotta say something.

  “State your name, please sir, for the record,” Aaron asked kindly.

  He’d never called Lazarus sir before. Lazarus hesitated slightly, noting Aaron’s courtroom demeanor. Maybe he knew what he was doing after all.

  “Lazarus Love the Third.”

  “And where were you, Mr. Love, on the morning of April 3rd?”

  “At Whole Foods grocery store on Ponce de Leon Avenue.”

  Aaron established the time, place, and service the Duponts requested. Mr. Dupont sat next to the prosecutor, whispering things no one else could hear.

  “And how did you happen to converse with Mr. and Mrs. Dupont?”

  “I was in front of the store, minding my own business, when I overheard them say they needed help making a flower garden, so I told them I could help in exchange for a few dollars.”

  “How much did Mrs. Dupont end up paying you?”

  “Fifty dollars.”

  “And what exactly did you do?”

  “I turned the earth with a shovel, then tilled it with a hoe and mixed in fertilizer.”

  “Was Mrs. Dupont with you the entire time?”

  “Yes. Well, no.” Lazarus glanced at Cinderella. “She went into the house and got me a cup of water. Other than that, she was there the whole time.”

  “Did y’all talk while you worked?”

  “Not really. She said a few things, like why she loved flowers, but I wasn’t really paying attention.”

  “And you never went inside the house?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Not at any point?”

  “No, sir.”

  Aaron nodded, turned, then swiveled abruptly, “She never gave you anything except a glass of water?”

  Lazarus’s throat went dry. He was sure the judge and everyone else saw sweat burst forth upon his forehead, but he remained composed. “No. That’s all.”

  Aaron smiled at the jury. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  The prosecutor stood, like a soldier called to attention, before Aaron ever sat down. Lazarus tried to exude a cool, easy demeanor, but a furious heartbeat contradicted his attempt. She studied his eyes, the prosecutor did, as if knowing a lie was hiding behind them, and Lazarus swallowed hard in prepara
tion for the ensuing inquiry.

  “Good morning, Mr. Love.”

  “Morning.”

  “You say you went to the Dupont household around nine on the morning of April 4th? Is that right?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And you say Mrs. Dupont met you in the front yard, is that right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What was she wearing that day, Mr. Love? Do you recall?”

  “It was a man’s blue shirt, open, with a white blouse underneath. And a pair of worn jeans.”

  “Did you think she was pretty?”

  “Objection!”

  “I’ll retract the question.”

  Lazarus wondered how people erased spoken words from others’ consciousness. But he dropped the thought. He couldn’t get distracted.

  “Did Mrs. Dupont make any sensual gestures toward you?”

  “No, ma’am, she did not.”

  “And what was her disposition that morning, Mr. Love? Meaning her attitude, her countenance, her—”

  “I know what disposition means, ma’am, and it was fine. Jovial, convivial, blithe.”

  The prosecutor smirked. Two can play this fuckin’ game, Lazarus thought.

  “Was there anything strange you noticed that morning? Whether about Mrs. Dupont or anything else around the house?”

  Lazarus shrugged. “No, ma’am. I was just there to do enough work to earn a little money. I wasn’t paying attention to much else.”

  The prosecutor paused but continued staring into Lazarus’s eyes. “Where was Mr. Dupont while you performed your work?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t see him. I guessed he was in the house somewhere.”

  “You didn’t see him at all?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “How long were you there, Mr. Love?”

  “About three hours, I guess. I was finished by noon. I remember that.”

  “How did you know that? Do you own a watch?”

  “No, ma’am, I don’t, but I heard the big clock chime in the tower of the Catholic church.”

  “And what instruments did you use to do this gardening work?”

  “A shovel and a hoe. That’s all.”

  “So those items should have your fingerprints, is that right?”

  “Sure. If they’ve not been tampered with.”

  Aaron gave a slight nod of approval.

  “And what did you do immediately after leaving the Duponts’ that day?”

  “I walked to Peachtree and caught the bus to Midtown, then got off and went to the park.”

  “Which park?”

  “The only park in Midtown.”

  The DA approached the judge and said, “For the record, I’d like to note the hostility of the witness please.”

  “Hostility?” Lazarus said aloud. “I’m not hostile.”

  “Sir, just answer the questions please,” the judge instructed. “We don’t need your assessment of their validity. That’s not your job. We all have a place.”

  A place? Lazarus’s mouth opened involuntarily. Did she tell me to stay in my place? Lazarus looked at Aaron, who put his finger to his mouth. The Comforter blinked until his rage subsided. Lizzie’s head hung low. Quad’s fury boiled.

  “Piedmont Park!” Lazarus enunciated loudly.

  “And did anyone see you? Can anyone corroborate your alibi?”

  “Yes, as a matter of fact someone can.”

  “Who might that be?”

  Lazarus sighed. “My daughter. She was there that morning. We didn’t talk, but she saw me.”

  “How do you know she saw you?”

  “Because I saw her and she turned away. You can ask her yourself.”

  The DA probed a while longer, then said, “Mr. Love, did you kill Mrs. Elizabeth Dupont?”

  The judge swiveled to see his response. Lazarus leaned forward so as not to be misheard: “No, ma’am, I did not.”

  The DA repeated verbatim more of Aaron’s questions until Aaron shouted, “Objection, Your Honor! Redundant. Is there something new she wants to ask?”

  The judge nodded and slurred, “Sustained. Get on with it, please, or let’s call the next witness.”

  The prosecutor bore a sly grin, as if the objection was precisely what she’d wanted. “Did you ever touch Mrs. Dupont, Mr. Love? In any way, for any reason?”

  Lazarus licked dry lips. “No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Lazarus frowned. Aaron shook his head, but his eyes held suspicion.

  “Yes, ma’am. I’m sure.”

  “Then where’s the scarf?”

  Murmuring erupted. Cinderella’s eyes bulged. Lazarus swallowed but restrained any look of surprise or terror.

  “What scarf?”

  “The one that matches this one.” From her pocket she extracted an embroidered cloth identical to the one Mrs. Dupont had gifted to Lazarus. He almost confessed but then thought better of it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “It’s missing, Mr. Love. The other scarf. There were two of these in Mrs. Dupont’s collection.” The prosecutor moved toward the witness stand with all deliberate speed. She never shifted her eyes from Lazarus’s gaze.

  Don’t let ’em break you, he heard Moses saying. “I’ve never seen that before.”

  “Haven’t you? That’s funny. It went missing the day you were at the house.”

  “Objection, Your Honor! Mere speculation. There’s no connection between my client and this scarf. Even if it is missing.”

  “I’m trying to establish a connection, Your Honor, and show the jury that Mr. Love’s word is not credible.”

  The judge nodded. “Overruled. I’d like to know if there’s a connection.”

  Aaron’s eyes narrowed. He studied Lazarus’s face. Yet Lazarus stood his ground. He had to remain calm or prepare to die.

  “I want to ask you again, Mr. Love, did you see a scarf like this one at Mrs. Dupont’s residence?”

  “No, ma’am, I didn’t.”

  “Perhaps you were getting a drink of water and saw it lying on a table and accidentally put it in your pocket.”

  “Objection, Your Honor! My client is not on trial for robbery.”

  “Sustained.”

  “I’ll rephrase. At any point, Mr. Love, did you see a scarf that looks like this?”

  She dangled it before him. Lazarus understood the gesture as a ploy to break him and make him surrender, but he didn’t fold.

  “No, ma’am. I’ve never seen that before.”

  His façade of innocence evoked her anger. “You’ve never seen this before? Isn’t it true that you have the other scarf, Mr. Love, somewhere in safekeeping, hoping to sell it for a lot of money after all this is over?”

  “Objection!”

  “I’m finished. No further questions.”

  Suddenly Mr. Dupont stood and shouted, “He has that scarf! I’m telling you he has it! It was him! I know it was! Who else could it have been?”

  Banging the gavel, the judge declared, “I won’t have outbursts in my courtroom, sir! You will have to control yourself or I’ll hold you in contempt!”

  Mr. Dupont huffed, staring hatred into Lazarus’s eyes.

  “Now sit down!” All murmuring ceased. “Counsel, if you can’t control your witness, I will have him removed from my courtroom!”

  “Yes, Your Honor. It won’t happen again. We beg the court’s pardon.”

  Lazarus appreciated the momentary distraction. When the DA reached her desk, she turned and said, “I’m sorry, Your Honor. I do have one final question.”

  The judge nodded as the rear door of the courtroom opened. Lazarus’s gasp was inaudible, but the shock on his face was palpable. Somewhere in his head he heard the DA speaking gibberish from a distant place as his father, the second Lazarus, slivered into the courtroom and sat next to Legion. The Comforter smiled. The lambs were coming together.

  “Mr. Love? Are you okay?” the j
udge asked.

  “Oh … um … yes, ma’am. I’m fine. I’m sorry. What was the question again?”

  The room began to spin. Junior’s eyes smiled. Only by twitching his head and blinking repeatedly did Lazarus return to the moment.

  “Did Mrs. Dupont make any gesture of interest toward you? Did she say or do anything that might lead you to believe she found you attractive?”

  Everyone waited. Legion whispered something to Junior, and he nodded. Quad touched his grandfather’s shoulders from behind.

  “No, she didn’t. She was very kind, but not flirtatious. I’m not sure I would’ve noticed anyway. I was there for one reason, and one reason only. I needed the money.”

  The DA relaxed. “No further questions, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. The witness is dismissed.”

  Lazarus didn’t move. He stared, once again, at his father, then his son. They stared in return, Quad wishing he understood Lazarus, Junior wishing to be understood by him. The room rocked slightly as Lazarus attempted to rise, clutching the sides of the witness stand. Viewers frowned and whispered, wondering what had suddenly disrupted this homeless man’s consciousness.

  “Sir, are you sure you’re okay?” the judge asked.

  Lazarus trembled uneasily, continuing to hold the witness stand. Then, stepping down, he stumbled, and Aaron dashed to catch him, but before he could, Lazarus surrendered and fainted onto the courtroom floor.

  Chapter 35

  Stretched across a bench outside the courtroom, Lazarus revived moments later. Quad and Lizzie stood at his feet; The Family gathered around his head. The Comforter knelt before him, pressing moist brown paper towels against his forehead while speaking magical words. Junior lingered behind her, studying his son’s face, begging God not to let this be the end.

  Struggling to stand, Lazarus murmured, “What happened? Why are we out here?”

  “’Cause you fell out!” Legion screeched, eliciting laughter that calmed worried hearts.

  “I fell out? What?”