A Darkened Mind

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A Darkened Mind Page 7

by Jerry Brown


  Robert grimaced and thought, I don't need this crap, but maintained his practiced composure. "Reverend, it won't be necessary, I assure you. We have an extremely competent police force and I think it best to allow them to do their work."

  "Mr. Mayor, you don't understand. I'm not asking for your permission. I'm merely notifying you that I will be there. Could you meet with me at your office at two pm?"

  "Two pm today?"

  "No, Monday."

  Without allowing a response, Reverend Righteous continued, "I will look so much forward to meeting you

  then. Goodbye, Mr. Mayor."

  Chapter 7

  What he had tried so hard to ignore all weekend was now foremost in Robert's mind. Monday had come. His mind raced. He leaned back in his office chair. Pensive, preparing himself for the expected confrontation with Righteous. Joni tapped on the door to his office and quickly entered.

  "I thought I'd better let you know", she said. "The outer office is filled with the Reverend, a half a dozen or so of his muscle men, and a rash of cameras and reporters."

  "How did they manage to get by security?" he asked.

  "I don't know the answer to that, but I can imagine. He seems to be a very pushy fella."

  "What does he look like?"

  Joni used her hands to describe Righteous. "Fat, dark and greasy with a gold cross in his front tooth that glistens when the camera light hits it," she gestured wildly.

  "I've got the picture. Do you think you could let just him in here?" the Robert asked.

  "You wish. I don't think there's a snowball's chance in hell of gettin' away with that. Not without a SWAT team anyway."

  "All right, you stay in here and get in touch with security. I'll see if I can make this short and sweet."

  Robert paused before the door and took a deep breath before turning the knob. Entering his outer office with the facade of openness and control, he was suddenly blinded by the array of camera lights. He fought the urge to shield his eyes, he planned to move quickly to assume control. When he saw the man, a smile crossed his face and his eyes were glued to the cummerbund, which tended to accentuate his ponderous girth.

  Taking advantage of the pause, the heavy set man took the initiative. Standing back, he did not offer his hand and faced the camera rather than Robert. "Greetings Mr. Mayor, I'm Reverend Righteous. I have come here out of concern for the black children of this city-ah" he said stiffly and with an air of recitation.

  Robert openly studied the stranger's appearance. He was amused by the polyester blend double-breasted, brown pin-striped suit. The coat was unbuttoned, probably by necessity, and it was little too long in the sleeves. There was a full inch gap between the collar of the shirt and the coat. Otherwise, all seams on the coat stretched tight.

  He was accustomed to dealing with such crass intrusions with lofty condescension and anticipated no difficulty in derailing Righteous. The problem was that his polish and family status gave him a strong edge in handling local people who accorded him the proper respect. He could not have anticipated that in this instance there would be no status accorded him. Nevertheless, the absence of an immediate vocal response was disconcerting to the guest; his forehead, face, and neck glistened. Robert smiled in spite of himself, walked up to his visitor with his hand out and began to make his moves. "Then you are welcome. We are all concerned about all the children in New Orleans. We welcome assistance from any quarter."

  "You misunderstand - ah, Mr. Mayor, we are here to demand results - that the offenders - ah - be apprehended, that our chil-der-en be afforded protection." His voice gained in volume as he got into his spiel.

  Robert maintained his composure and a pleasant smile. He turned from Righteous to the camera, speaking softly. "Surely you do not think that we are at odds in our intentions, do you Rev. Righteous? This matter carries the highest priority by this office. What has happened is an unconscionable and horrible act. I have every confidence in the ability and dedication of our police force and that the perpetrators will be discovered with dispatch. If you have come here to assist, then certainly, you are welcome and I am sure that is your intent. A person of your repute and stature could do no less. What can I do to assist you?"

  Righteous was momentarily silent, then spoke with disdain. "We have a public meeting at the Masonic Lodge off Claiborne Avenue scheduled for Friday night. I would like for you to share the speakers' platform with me. The boy's father will speak, and I am sure there will be questions that only YOU can address. Are you familiar with the location?"

  Robert felt the trap open and close behind him. "Of course I am. I have been there many times. I am always pleased to meet with my people and will look forward to putting their minds at ease," he lied.

  Now it was time for Robert Kingwood's forehead to perspire. When confident, Righteous was no match for him one on one. But he knew he had taken a major hit. He also recognized that he had been predictable and because of that had been manipulated into a corner. The television cameras had trapped him. He knew instinctively it was important to end the interview quickly, before he stepped on another land mine. He nodded at the cameras, smiled at the reporters, then nodded to security officers who had just entered the offices.

  He turned and entered his office, closing the door behind him. Joni was gone. Standing behind his desk, he punched in the code for a programmed number then sat back on the edge of his desk while waiting for the other party. "Uncle Easy," he said over the telephone, "something has come up. I need to meet with you and dad as soon as possible." "Sure T., can you come over here now?" "Do you want me to try to find Pop, or can you catch up with him?" "No catching up to do. He's in his office.”

  I'm lookin' at him right now. Is it something serious?”

  "It could be, but let it wait until I get there then I won't have to go over it but once. I just want ya'll to know what's happening and to come up with some strategy. I'll be right over there." "Wait a minute now, I'm not sure I want you drivin'. You sound pretty upset." "No, I'm okay. I just got steamrolled by a preacher from Detroit, in front of the cameras no less.”

  "Well bring yourself over here and we'll see what we need to do."

  Robert made quick progress through the traffic and parked his car at the rear of the funeral home. He smiled and greeted the attendant just inside the door and walked directly to a kitchen area in the rear of the facility where his father and uncle met for lunch and breaks daily, just as he had when he operated his law offices there. The furniture was old and scratched. It had not been replaced since his grandfather started the business and was probably purchased used even then. The lighting was dim, but the walls were freshly painted. The room was kept scrupulously clean. His uncle met him halfway cross the room. Easy feigned a right cross to his stomach, then grabbed and shook his hand. "T, why you lookin' down boy? You ain't gonna cut it that way," Robert removed his coat and unbuttoned his shirt collar. They poured themselves a mug of coffee and seated themselves facing one another across the table. As his father entered, he smiled and grazed his hand across the shoulder and back of his son while sitting himself alongside. "Well, I see that we have a new problem presenting itself in the person of one Reverend Righteous who has come to town to guide all us local dumb niggers to the light," his dad gestured, as if looking up to the heavens.

  Easy shook his head in exasperation. "Yeah, right, as if we didn't have enough problems without this parasite comin' and gettin' folks riled up."

  Robert wondered how they knew about Righteous and the scheduled meeting, but he sat back.

  "Actually, Easy, I suspect he's more of a predator than a parasite. Parasites and scavengers we're used to. Predators might need a little different handling. We better go to school before we decide which way we goin'."

  Easy glanced at his brother out of the corner of his eye as he contemplated the difference, then turned to Robert who quickly responded, "Hey, I screwed up and I need your help and advice. This Righteous is a pretty aggressive guy." "Rev. R
ighteous, sheeit!" the uncle snorted. "He's probably Willie Lee Harmon or some such from Montgomery."

  "Actually, Easy, I think he lives in Detroit," chirped his brother. "I have no doubt that the guy is a light-weight blow-hard, but what difference does that make. What we have to be concerned about is ensuring that we control that meeting Friday. It'll be much easier to prevent a fire than to put one out later."

  "I realize that," the uncle retorted gruffly. “It's just that I get so put out having to spend time on trash like that rather than doing somethin' to get things movin'."

  "We're kinda getting away from T's problem.” Turning to his son, he said: “what help do you need?"

  "Pop, I don't know how you can help. I wasn't prepared for that confrontation and by the time I was halfway into it, I knew I'd been had."

  "I didn't ask you the how. Me and Easy'll take care of the how. It's the what I need from you."

  "I'm afraid the what is impossible, Pop." Robert said displaying doubt and despair for the for the first time since his election.

  "Well, son, me and Easy work miracles all the time, make lame men walk and blind men see, don't we Easy?"

  Easy grinned.

  "Lois told me last week Easy had a hard on. You gotta believe in miracles," his father teased. Easy was no longer just grinning, his face was aglow.

  "Hot damn!" "Lois must'a been talkin' to Clarice again. That woman can't keep her mouth shut," Easy laughed.

  "Uncle Easy, what are you doin' with Clarice? You and pop had a fit when I was seeing her." "Not so much that you were seeing her, son. It was being seen with her and offering her a job that got us goin'," the father interjected, taking the ball from his brother, to avoid leaving him exposed alone added, "Me and Easy are men of the world. We've been aroun' the block a few more times than you. We know how to handle pretty, hot young things like Clarice without givin' away the store." "Well I'll be damned," Robert responded incredulously. "Don't be naive, son. Doesn't look good on a community leader." The father smiled. "Now let's get back to the what." "Y'all, the media is gonna have a field day. This guy will take any cheap shot there is to take. The stupid element is already runnin' around looking for a excuse to start rioting. And that's exactly what this guy wants. He can inflame things, soak up a million dollar's worth of publicity, then run back to Detroit to collect on it. We don't need this," Robert said. "Get off the soapbox, son. It's just me'n Easy here. It won't fly on TV either, so get all that off your mind. Just keep treating him like a worrisome fly that you need to swat. That's what you did today. Easy and I watched it. We think it went better than you think." "Y'all saw that?" "T., there's not a lot you do that Easy and I don't know about. But getting back to the matter at hand, you realize this thing could be defused very quickly, if the police could make a arrest in the Porter case." "Don't hold your breath waiting for that to happen. They are no closer to a solution than they were the first day. I actually think they are wishing for a encore in the hope of picking up new clues. In fact, a homicide captain told me the other day that he is amazed that there have been no copy cat killings." "Well, son, Easy and I can probably give you some relief on this preacher thing, but you are going to have to do something to show that some progress is being made. Come up with some new twist. Create some diversion. Throw somebody to the wolves. You're going to have to separate yourself from the lack of success one way or the other. The people have to think there is hope. You've got to buy yourself some time. This is Monday. You need to have something to announce at that meeting Friday. In the meantime, Easy and I will see what we can do about some miracles at this end. We can't do anything about the national press. Otherwise you can count on some strong relief from us." "How," Robert asked incredulously. "Trust me, you don't want to know that. If you don't know you can't perjure yourself. After all this has passed, we'll have a long talk and brag a little bit." Robert rose shaking his head in disbelief, but his chest swelled with relief. The uncle and father grinned in unison. They each patted a shoulder as they escorted Robert to the door.

  Chapter 8

  Driving back to his office from the meeting with his family, Robert felt relaxed, yet determined. A pothole jarred his sports car blotting his reverie. He stopped at a pay phone at a service station. After returning the wave of a passerby, he dialed Joni's number and instructed her to arrange an immediate meeting in his office with Edgar Landry.

  By the time he entered the office, Landry was seated at the front of his desk. He walked past him without comment, sat in his chair and rubbed his face and eyes, ignoring the man entirely. Still rubbing his eyes, he broke the silence. "I assume you've been briefed on my confrontation with that preacher. If you want to call him that." "Yes, I know about it and the gathering planned for Friday night. That could bring on some problems," Landry said. Leaning forward on the desk. Robert rested his chin on his hands and looked directly at Landry. "Edgar, what progress can you report on the Porter case?"

  He shrugged and looked down at his lap, then spoke slowly. "There is nothing new or I would have told you. I have my entire homicide staff working on the case to the exclusion of anything else, and all patrolmen have been tasked to canvass the city pressuring their contacts. The reward money is now up to $120,000 but until we can develop something tangible, it's effect has actually served as a hindrance to the investigation.”

  "We've checked out more than 200 bits of information; and frankly, none seem substantive." He continued. "When the case breaks, we will be in a position to move quickly to make an arrest; but until then, we're just swimmin' upstream," he groveled.

  Robert's face became stern. "Well, I'm pleased that you understand that it is we who are up the creek, but me who will be facing that crowd at the public meeting with Reverend Righteous, Friday night; and I am not going to stand up there and give them your message. I'd be ripped to shreds." His eyes narrowed. "I think you need to understand, Edgar, that if you can't provide me with some ray of hope to share with them, then I will have no choice but to give them you. Frankly, I've taken all the flack I intend to. I don't need to tell you that my failure to appoint a fellow black to the position has always caused me problems from my primary support group, but I've left you there because you assured me that you could handle the problems." His eyebrows were now arched with anger. "They AIN'T being handled, Edgar, and it would obviously take quite a bit of heat off me to bring in new blood," he threatened. "It is now Monday afternoon. May I suggest that you give the matter serious consideration and return tomorrow afternoon with something upbeat ... and, Edgar, if you can't offer some breakthrough in the case, some brilliant new tactic, or some excellent diversion, you will be relieved of your duties come Wednesday morning. Do you understand that?"

  "Mr. Mayor, it's not that simple," Landry pleaded.

  "Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Edgar?" Robert spoke softly but with folded arms and an intense stare.

  Landry looked down at the floor and responded, "Yes, I'm afraid I do."

  Landry was not able to fully compose himself before a hastily called conference of his immediate administrative staff and principal homicide division personnel. He began the meeting with angry demands, but it quickly became evident to him that he was getting nowhere and concealing his weakened position from no one. He realized that all present had spent their adulthood reading the emotions of others.

  He looked up at the ceiling and slumped slightly as if considering his options. He was aware that none appreciated him, never had, for no better reason than he was not a career police officer. Why couldn't they understand that he brought more to the job than a policeman ever could. Why could they not realize that his connections with the power structure were of incalculable value, as was his knowledge of indiscretions by countless people, which became known to him during his years as a prosecutor, he frequently asked himself. Can they not recognize the twenty percent increase in the staff, the ten percent increase in salary, and forty percent increase in general budget that occurred during his
tenure. This would not have been achievable by anyone else during a time of such economic hardship. It occurred to him that these thoughts and this approach would do no good either, so he abruptly changed his tack.

  "Gentleman, let me take a different approach. My apologies for my confrontive approach but, frankly, my back is against the wall. Any ideas or suggestions you might have which could be developed to either provide the mayor with something positive about the Porter case to present at his meeting Friday night would certainly be appreciated. I've met with him almost daily since the child's body was discovered. I realize that you have made a solid effort to solve the case. He is also fully aware of the nature and extent of your past efforts. I think what I'm asking is can anyone suggest some novel approach or anything else that can buy us some time until this thing breaks?"

  The officers at the meeting looked either at others or toward the floor. After an extended pause, Bill Ed Flint rose to his feet. "Superintendent, I don't think it will help in the long run, but what I hear you saying is that you need a smokescreen."

  "Detective Flint, isn't it?"

  "Yes sir."

  "I don't think I would have put it so bluntly," Landry said haughtily, then paused and collected himself, "but you're right, the time for delicacy has passed. Yes, if we can't conjure up an immediate miracle, an effective smoke screen might help."

  "Sir, you might consider bringing in a group of specialists," the detective continued. "You know, experts in gang behavior who have monitored youth gang development in California or Illinois -- someone who is considered an authority on satanism, skinheads, KKK, and so forth, put together a group of ten or twelve, bring them into town with a big media blitz, share all the information we have with them. Who knows, maybe they could come up with something we missed. In any case, it might buy a little time," he concluded.

  "I like the idea up to a point, but I can see this group of learned scholars trying to impress one another. I can also see them becoming a large problem in the long term by interfering with the investigation or, heaven forbid, developing a line of communication directly with the mayor or the media."

 

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