Murder on Second Street: The Jackson Ward Murders (Sy Sanford Series Book 1)

by Rebekah Pierce

  The sheriff’s shoulders squared and his lips tightened, his face a complete shade of bright red. “You threatened me, boy!”

  “No, sir! He ain’t doin’ no such thing, Sheriff,” answered Turner who was wiping his brow with the sleeve of his coat. “Preston here’s just remindin’ you that folks ‘round here ain’t forgot some things and with re-election comin’ up next year, well, you know,” and he let the words trail off.

  “Get him outta my jail,” he spewed at Turner and Miller as he stormed out of the cell.

  Preston Miller and Raymond Turner smiled confidently at one another as they picked Sy up, each man under a shoulder, and walked him out of the Richmond jail and into the morning dew. It was October 28, 1929, Black Monday.

  Chapter 34

  Sy woke up to the sounds of voices arguing heatedly. When he finally managed to open his eyes, he saw that he was surrounded by the people who had hired him. They were back in his room. Preston Miller, Raymond Turner, Jack Johnson, William Sessions, Prometheus Jackson and Mrs. Perditia Jones stared at him silently now. They had forlorn looks on their faces as Perditia put her head down and started crying. Prometheus Jackson put his big arms around her to comfort her. “It’s okay, Mrs. Jones,” he whispered softly to her.

  “What’s goin’ on?” his raspy voice asked. He sat up slowly on his bed and held his head between his hands. The throbbing pain was worse than a hangover. “I need some water.”

  Jack Johnson got up and went to the sink to get Sy some water. His footsteps sounded heavy on the wood floors like he was going to crash through them. He handed the glass to Sy in what seemed like slow motion to his still throbbing eyes. Sy took it and drained the glass. The water felt like light going down his throat. He couldn’t even remember the last time he had water to drink.

  He finished the water and handed the glass back to Jack Johnson. Then his eyes found Mrs. Jones. It was all there. “She’s dead, ain’t she?” his voice echoed in the room.

  Mrs. Jones put her head down and cried even harder so much so that her body shook violently and Johnson had to fan her as she passed out in the chair. “Dear Lord!” he shouted.

  The other men rushed to her side and picked her up and carried her to the couch where they laid her down discreetly. Sy watched all of this from his bed, and prayed it was all a bad dream like the ones he had about the war. “It ain’t so, right?” he asked the men standing over Mrs. Jones on the other side of the room.

  “They … we … found her body earlier this mornin’ in the James River,” explained Turner. “She’d been … beaten and … strangled, looks like.”

  Sy said nothing. He sat frozen. He simply stared at Turner like he had never seen him before. Then, he turned his head and stared at Miller. “You sure?”

  Miller nodded his head yes and then cleared his throat. “Sanford, you … you said you knew who the killer was. Do you really?”

  Jeffrey Peterson’s face jumped in front of Sy’s eyes. His body started to shake from holding back tears that threatened to come. He had not cried for anyone since Hattie died. He loved his mother. He loved Lena, and now both were gone.

  Raymond Turner came and stood in front of Sy. “There ain’t nothin’ you can do about her now, Sanford. But you can save another woman’s life … if you tell us who the killer is.” Sy was motionless and silent, staring down at Turner’s freshly shined shoes. “Sanford, we’ve got to know. Who is he? Is it you?”

  An audible gasp was heard. Mrs. Jones had awakened and cried, “No, no! It can’t be Sy! No!”

  “I only ask cause of … what Sheriff Mason … the hosiery—“

  Sy’s chest was pounding in his head now. He glared up at Turner. “I blacks out sometimes … I don’t know where they came from. I … I must of picked ‘em up on one of my walks. I can’t sleep and I walks sometimes. But I don’t kill women,” he protested vehemently.

  “Then who is it, Sanford?” interjected Jack Johnson.

  “You won’t believe me. Why should I tell?” he said solemnly.

  “Sy … Sanford, you told me once that you thought the killer was one of us … a wealthy person. That doesn’t matter. He’s a killer that must be brought to justice.”

  Sy struggled to get up from the bed; Turner offered him his arm, but Sy refused it. Careful to lean on a chair for support, he walked slowly over to Mrs. Jones. He stood over her and looked down at her. Mrs. Jones stared back sorrowfully at him.

  “Jeffrey Peterson.” The air was sucked out of the room. Sy stood there motionless still staring down at Mrs. Jones as the men grumbled in disbelief.

  “Elijah and Katherine Peterson’s son? There’s no way. They’re good people,” hollered Sessions.

  “The boy graduated from Union with honors a few years ago,” cried Miller in protest.

  Raymond Turner was thinking. “Elijah passed away Saturday night, gentlemen.”

  “My, Lord, my, Lord,” moaned Jack Johnson as he sat down heavily in a chair.

  Mrs. Jones spoke up then. “He came to my house unexpectedly earlier that afternoon. I was rather surprised to see him … since it’d been so long … since his mother died.”

  “But that doesn’t make him a killer, Mrs. Jones,” Sessions argued.

  “He acted strange to me, especially when Lena came in … he couldn’t stop staring’ at her … made me rather embarrassed.”

  Sy now made his way carefully over to the kitchen sink. He reached for a glass and turned on the faucet to get water. Sy was silent as he took in all the background noise as he drank another glass of water. It hurt to put his lips on the glass as they were badly swollen from the beating he had received at the hands of Sheriff Mason and his men.

  “Hold on now, gentlemen. Let me think. I went to see Elijah’s doctor earlier this morning when I got the news. The doctor, Dr. Howard … said Elijah’s death was suspicious the more he thought about,” continued Turner as he tapped his fingers on the table.

  “Whatcha mean “suspicious”? asked Jackson.

  “He was the last one to see his father alive,” Sy interjected. Everyone was staring at him again. “I checked that night … before the sheriff came and got me.” The coldness of the water burned his innards as they were sensitive from the kicking and stomping he’d received.

  “Is he right, Turner?” Prometheus asked softly. Raymond Turner simply nodded his head yes.

  William Sessions had a severe headache now and was rubbing his temple. “Are you gonna report this in the paper tomorrow?”

  Turner let out a heavy sigh. “I ain’t decided yet.”

  “What about the police? Should we report this to the sheriff?” asked Jack Johnson as he stood by the window rubbing his chin like he was trying to rub something off of it.

  “No. He thinks Sy’s the killer. If we go back to him now with this, it’ll make matters worse,” said Turner forlornly.

  The room was silent again as each person weighed the gravity of this news. But Sy’s heart and head was the heaviest. “He killed Lena …”

  “And them poor girls … Miss Sara Young,” cried Mrs. Jones.

  “So what are we gonna do ‘bout this? The police ain’t gonna do nothin’. Peterson will be out of jail within hours and he’ll have himself a lawyer by the end of the week,” said William Sessions solemnly.

  “That ain’t gonna happen,” said Sy angrily, breathing hard through his nostrils. He looked like a raging bull to them. “I ain’t gonna stand by and let him get away with murder … no, sir.” Sy had worked himself up too much. He grabbed his sides in pain.

  “You can’t do nothin’ ‘bout him right now, Mr. Sanford. You ain’t up to it, so let’s … let’s just come back and talk about this some more tomorrow,” Miller urged Sy.

  “But what if another woman dies because of him tonight?” asked Mrs. Jones as Sessions and Jackson helped her get up on her feet. “What if he kills again before we can stop him … before tomorrow?”

  The men were silent. “You ain’t got no answ
er, do you. We’s just disposable … we Negro women. You know he done killed them women and you just gonna sit on it ‘til tomorrow?” Mrs. Jones was hollering by now. William Sessions asked her to keep her voice down, but she wouldn’t be quiet.

  “No … no! I will not be quiet. That pretty young lady loved Mr. Sanford. She was full of life … all of ‘em. I don’t care if he the son of the president of the United States of America, he’s gotta pay for what he’s done,” and she slammed the bottom of her cane on the floor for emphasis, cracking it in the process. The men remained silent, staring down at the floor with no answers to give.

  Everyone except Sy, that is. His strained voice seemed to come from a faraway place. “I’ll take care of him, Mrs. Jones,” said Sy confidently as his fat hands rubbed his forehead in earnest. Mrs. Jones breathed a visible sigh of relief.

  “But you ain’t in no condition—” Miller started to say.

  “It don’t matter!” yelled Sy excitedly. “Mrs. Jones is right. He’s gonna kill again if we don’t do somethin’ about it … tonight. We’ve seen what this man can do. He’s gotta be stopped, and if we don’t stop him, he’s gonna keep doin’ it. Look, you ain’t gotta know what I’m gonna do. None of you do. That way, you won’t be in trouble with the law.”

  “But, Mr. Sanford—” Turner pleaded.

  “Please go now. I gotta … I gotta go see Lena. Where … where do they have her?” Sy’s voice cracked.

  “She’s at Price’s. I’ll take care of the … arrangements. I feel so responsible.” And she started to cry again.

  Sy went to her and took a hold of her hand and squeezed it gently. “It ain’t your fault, Mrs. Jones. I was supposed to protect her, not you. It’s gonna be alright now,” he said as he escorted the forlorn group out of his room.

  Preston Miller stopped in the doorway. “How will we know?”

  Sy laughed darkly from deep in his gut. “Mr. Miller, I promise you that tomorrow will be a day you’ll never forget.” Then he shut his door on the perplexed face of Preston Miller.

  Chapter 35

  A.D. Price Funeral Home served two functions: funeral parlor and home to the Black and White Ball, which Sy had attended the other night. Now, with a heavy heart, Sy’s feet felt like two ton cement blocks as he walked into the doors of the funeral parlor a few hours later. He had to stand still for a few seconds as his eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. It was a rather painful experience as his eyes were still somewhat swollen.

  Sy stood planted in the hallway for a few seconds more. His heart felt like it was going to leap outside of his body. Lena, his Lena, was gone. He took off his fedora hat and twirled it around in his hands to avoid looking towards the room where the receptionist had said she lain. The pretty young light-skinned woman had gone to make sure Lena was ready for viewing.

  A few moments later, she returned and gently pointed him to the room where the body of Lena Johnson lay in wait. It was the longest walk of his life, with the casket seeming to go further and further back as he approached it. He could see her face from the back of the room where he was to come from. Her mahogany casket was adorned with red roses. At that moment, Sy sincerely appreciated Mrs. Jones for all that she had done.

  He finally made it to the front of the room where she lay in her casket. Lena was laid out in a fine, white silk dress. Her hair was nicely primped on top of her head and her make-up was simple – a light red lipstick and pinkish blush. She looked so peaceful and beautiful. Sy had seen many dead people during the war, before and after it, but this death was different. He had to cling to the casket for support. His legs felt as if they were going to give out on him and he was already weak from the beating he had sustained the day before from the police. “Lena, Lena, Lena,” he called out as tears flowed swiftly down his cheeks and onto the floor. He brought his head up and looked to her face. She simply looked as if she were sleeping. But he knew better.

  Still to be sure, his shaking hand touched her pink cheeks. She was cold and hard … already. Sy snatched his hand back as if he’d been stung by a wasp. But then he had to do something – to be sure. He looked behind him. No one was in the room with him. With shaky hands, he pulled down the collar of her dress around her neck and there it was: the strangulation marks, fingerprints on his Lena’s throat.

  A darkness descended over Sy like fog as he stared down at the prints on Lena’s neck. He slowly put her collar back in place. They were not able to hide that, he thought to himself. Sy looked back at her face. His green eyes took in every inch of her face as if to brand it in his memory forever. Then, he bent down and did what he had longed to do ever since the night they first made love – since the day she walked into his office to inquire about the opening. He kissed her softly on her lips. They were so cold, but in his mind’s eye, she was alive and warm.

  He stood back, slowly put his hat on his head, without taking his eyes off of her. He took a slow deep breath and then exhaled. His green eyes looked up and fixated on the image of Jesus on the cross hanging above the altar behind Lena. He rolled his neck, the cracking sound the only sound of life in the room. Then, turning on his heels, he left Lena – forever.

  Chapter 36

  Jeffrey Peterson was sipping on a glass of wine while sitting in his favorite chair in front of the fireplace. He was thinking about Lena Johnson and her big brown eyes. He had not wanted to kill her … had not meant to. He wanted her to stay with him; he had never wanted anything like that from a woman before.

  When he had returned from church and his encounter with Sy Sanford, he had made up in his mind that he had to punish Sy for humiliating him. No one embarrassed Jeffrey Peterson and got away with it. When he got home, he went straight to the room he had her locked in without even changing his clothes. When he came crashing in, and stood over her heaving, she stared at the wild look in his eyes. She knew it was over for her, but she wasn’t going down without a fight.

  The look of fear in her eyes turned him on at first. He looked over her body slowly, dark thoughts running wild through his mind. And then he began to take off his clothes. The look in her eyes went from fear to disgust in a flash and he lost his desire. No woman had ever turned him down … ever! For a moment, he was too stunned to move, and as he contemplated his next move, Lena’s foot came up and connected with his groin.

  He doubled over in pain on the floor. Lena had found a way to get out of the ropes and now started to run for the door, screaming at the top of her lungs. But he tripped her as she tried to run past him and she fell on the floor. She kicked and screamed with all of her might as he climbed on top of her cussing and hissing at her. He punched her several times in the face to shut her up until she fell unconscious for a moment, but it was just a moment.

  Jeffrey had gotten up to catch his breath, thinking Lena dead, but she wasn’t. He was wiping the sweat from his brow when he saw her try to crawl to the open door. “I don’t think so, pretty one,” he said as he shut the door and dragged her back into the room. Lena kicked and fought for her life like none of the others. She wanted to live … to see Sy again, even Amos, she was so desperate.

  “No!!” she tried to scream at the top of her lungs, but he put his hand over her mouth to stop her. She bit his hand.

  Again, he punched her in the face and stomach. He had her pinned to the floor when he took a pillow and pushed it down onto her face. She scratched him viciously as she fought for air. He then removed the pillow, allowed her a few seconds of air, which she gulped at as if thirsty for water, and then put his hands around her neck and squeezed until she stopped fighting him.

  Large brown eyes stared up at him as his sweat fell onto her face and neck. He had not wanted to kill her yet. He wanted to make her come to him willingly, to have some fun first. But she had to fight him. “Damn it!” he screamed. He caught his breath and then leaned over and stole the kiss he had been fantasizing about. They were still warm as he pressed his tongue beyond them and into her still, lifeless mouth.


  He gently squeezed her breasts, waiting to hear the familiar sigh of pleasure that most of them had given him … except for Miss Sara Young. She had fought him too. He hadn’t wanted to kill her either, but he couldn’t help himself. Now, the thought of Sara Young repulsed Jeffrey and he immediately jumped off of Lena. He kicked her one more time in the ribs before wrapping her body in a blanket.

  And as with Anne Hilks, he waited until the sun had set and then he drove Mrs. Lena Johnson to the James River near the factories in Shockoe Bottom under the cover of darkness and dumped her body in the river like trash. He waited and listened for the familiar sound a body makes as it sinks, and then shrugging his shoulders against the cold of the night, he got back into his car and drove silently home. He had had no desire to mark her body like the others. She was far too beautiful for that, and he was angry at himself for having messed up his chance to have her. When he finally pulled into the back of his home, he cut off the engine, and released a sigh of relief. He then went inside, took off his clothes and fell into a deep sleep in his bed.

  Now, as he sat in front of the fireplace drinking a glass of red wine on this rainy Monday evening thinking about Lena Johnson’s brown eyes, he started to fall asleep in his chair as he often did when he was comfortable. The rain was coming down harder now, and thunder and lightning cracked open the sky just as he had closed his eyes. A window broke in the distance, or so he thought. His mind had often played tricks on him over the years driving him to see and hear things that weren’t really there. So, he ignored the breaking of glass and proceeded to sleep comfortably in his chair in front of the cozy fire.

  Then something strange happened. He felt something warm running down the side of his face. He instinctively put his hand up to his face and his eyes popped wide open when he realized it was not water, but blood. “What … what is this?” he cried as he jumped out of his chair. He ran into Sy immediately and fell backwards onto the floor from the unexpected collision. He looked up at Sy in disbelief.