The Harlem Charade

by Natasha Tarpley

  Elvin, Jin, and Alex all held their breath as the sound of the men’s footsteps got farther and farther away. When they were sure the men were gone, they climbed out from their hiding places. Jin ran to retrieve her notebook. It was nowhere to be found.

  “They took it!” she cried. “It had all our notes. This is terrible.” Fat tears rolled down her cheeks.

  “It’ll be okay,” Alex said, patting her arm awkwardly. “They probably won’t understand what it all means, and besides, we already know everything in that notebook. And they’ll never be able to connect us to it.” Jin nodded, but she still felt pretty awful. Losing her notebook was like losing a limb.

  “This might not be the right time to say this, but don’t we have a Harlem World meeting to get to?” Elvin asked shyly.

  “The meeting!” Alex said, turning to Jin. “Are you feeling up to going?”

  Jin nodded firmly. She wasn’t going to let losing a notebook stop her from helping Elvin and possibly saving her neighborhood.

  As they crept toward the hole in the brick where they’d entered the building, Elvin heard the motor of the crane starting up. “I thought they said they weren’t doing any demolition now?” As they slipped through the exit, a sharp whistle pierced the air. Elvin looked up just in time to see the wrecking ball swinging in their direction. “Run!” he shouted.

  They didn’t stop until they were several blocks away.

  “They must’ve seen us,” Elvin gasped, doubled over, struggling to catch his breath.

  “And they have my notebook,” Jin groaned. “This is not good.”

  “Let’s keep it together, people!” Alex snapped. “We just need to find Henriette’s missing paintings before those guys do.”

  “I did find out one thing,” Elvin offered as they began to walk. “Both of those men knew about the paintings—they mentioned them when they were talking. And I recognized one of them. He was at the museum, and I think he was also in my grandfather’s apartment that night. What if he had a hand in the attack?”

  “This is major!” Jin said, reaching for her notebook, which, of course, wasn’t there.

  “Now all we have to do is figure out his angle. What’s the motive? How do all these pieces fit together? Easy peasy, right?” Alex said, so charged-up that she practically started skipping down the street.

  “Yeah, right,” Jin and Elvin grumbled, trailing behind her. They’d just had their second near-death experience in a week, and, unlike Alex, neither of them was looking forward to the prospect of more.

  The Abyssinian Baptist Church rose like a sentinel from its prominent perch on 138th Street, looking every bit the majestic Harlem monument that it was. As the first African American Baptist church in New York, Abyssinian had weathered its share of neighborhood changes: battles for territory and civil rights, conflicts among community members, and also, on occasion, reconciliations. It was only fitting that a meeting about Harlem World, a development that could have a significant impact on the neighborhood, be held here, in this historic place.

  By the time Alex, Elvin, and Jin arrived, the church was packed, wall to wall, with people coming to state their case and voice their grievances. The air in the church was thick with heat and humidity generated by so many bodies crowded together. The three kids pushed their way through the doors and slid into the last available space along the back wall. Jin scanned the crowd for Halmoni. She caught sight of her grandmother’s frizzy, curly hair in a pew near the front of the church. Then she noticed her grandfather, standing close to where Halmoni was sitting, shaking hands and chatting with their neighbors.

  “Uh-oh, double trouble. Both of my grandparents are here,” Jin whispered to Alex, jutting her chin in her grandparents’ direction. “Keep your eye on Halmoni’s hair. If that hair moves, we’re out of here.”

  Alex nodded and turned her attention to the front of the room, where Ameenah Hardwick was stepping onto the pulpit. She wore a long black skirt and another gigantic head wrap, this one made of a gauzy white material. She cleared her throat and began to speak, projecting her voice to the back of the room.

  “Good evening, brothers and sisters, fellow business owners, and neighbors. My name is Ameenah Hardwick, and I am president of the Alliance of Harlem Business Owners. We are gathered here this evening to discuss a matter of great importance to our community. Councilman Geld Markum has asked for an opportunity to present his ideas for a new development in our neighborhood. Let us be respectful and hear him out. There will be time for questions following his presentation.”

  Ameenah Hardwick stepped off the pulpit, and as she passed Markum, she pretended not to see his outstretched hand. People began to shift in their seats and whisper loudly. One couple even booed while Markum and his assistant set up for his presentation.

  “Good evening, Harlem!” Markum’s voice boomed through the microphone. “I’m here to talk to you about what I believe is an amazing opportunity for Harlem. I was born and raised in this neighborhood, and I still live here, so I know what we need to make this an even better place than it already is. Imagine all of Harlem’s historic riches on display for the world to see. Places like Colonial Williamsburg and Greenfield Village may showcase important aspects of American history, but they don’t have anything on us! We have Langston Hughes and the Harlem Renaissance, the Apollo Theater, and the Cotton Club. And I’ve designed the Harlem World development to be a win-win situation for all of us.” A slide with a series of graphs and pie charts popped up on the screen behind him. “As you can see, we anticipate that Harlem World will significantly increase tourism to our area, which will lead to more jobs for Harlem residents, and a spike in revenue for local business owners.”

  “That’s only if we get to stay open!” Jin watched Mr. Adibisi, who owned the dry cleaner’s a few storefronts down from the bodega, stand so he could be heard. “I hear you’re planning on shutting down a lot of businesses.”

  Markum plastered a fake smile on his face, which barely hid his sneer. “The goal, my friend, is to increase opportunities for all. Will there be some changes? Of course. But these changes will lead to more jobs and more money for more members of our community. Now, if you’ll turn your attention to this next slide, I’d like to share with you some details about the development.” A slide with an illustration of a multicolored blob, shaped like a peanut, appeared on the screen.

  “I’ve designed Harlem World to be a series of theme parks within a theme park, each location honoring a different facet of Harlem’s rich culture and history.” Markum grabbed a small pointer and shined a red laser dot on the illustration. “This, as you can probably guess by its indigo color, is Ellingtonia, named for the great Duke Ellington and his famous song, ‘Mood Indigo.’ This is where we’ll have our jazz-themed rides, including the high-speed ‘Bird’ roller coaster, named in honor of Charlie Parker, as well as three world-class jazz performance venues. Over here, in orange, is the Harlem Renaissance Faire—”

  “What about the little guy?” Mr. Adibisi interrupted. “I don’t hear anything about us.”

  Markum kept his cool. “Sir, there will be plenty of opportunities for small business owners. If you would just wait until the Q and A portion of this presentation, I will do my best to address your concerns.”

  Mr. Adibisi ignored him and rose to his feet again. He was dressed in traditional African attire, with a long flowing shirt and pants, and had a thick gray beard and dreadlocks that went down to his knees. “I don’t believe you. You people come in here with all your fancy talk and promises, and who gets obliterated? The little guy, the small business owners who are the backbone of this community.”

  “Yeah!” shouted Mr. Morales, a teacher at Jin and Alex’s school. “Look at what happened with the Magic Skillet!” For once, Markum appeared flustered, his cool demeanor coming apart at the seams. He glanced over at Ameenah Hardwick for help, but she just looked away. Suddenly, a hush fell over the audience as Miss Norma—a longtime Harlem resident and loca
l legend—made her way to the front of the room, her cane clicking against the floor.

  “How dare you insult us with such a preposterous plan. An amusement park?” she spat. “The people of Harlem are not pawns to be used for your amusement. And besides, who says new is better? Who says shiny and fast and big make a community viable? We do that. The people who live and work here. We can’t let some politician come in here and paint us out of the picture, or keep building on top of us, around us, or over us until we completely disappear. This community is our home. We will not allow you to come into our neighborhood and render us invisible!” The room erupted in applause as Ameenah Hardwick led Miss Norma back to her seat.

  Alex hooted and applauded with the rest of the crowd. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Halmoni and Harabeoji getting up and nudged Jin with her elbow. “Your grandparents are leaving,” she shouted above the noise. The three kids quickly shoved their way through the crowd toward the exit. At the door, Alex grabbed an information packet from a Harlem World representative.

  Jin rushed ahead. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but I can’t let Halmoni see me here. I’ll talk to you guys tomorrow!” she called over her shoulder. As she raced home, Jin thought about Miss Norma’s words. And she remembered what Verta Mae had told them about how the Invisible 7 had worked to help people better their community. It occurred to her that their work wasn’t just about getting people involved and painting cool pictures. It was about refusing to be invisible. It was about being seen. It was high time someone took up that cause, and in Jin’s mind, tonight had been a very good start.

  A lex stormed into Elvin’s apartment the next day and threw two pieces of paper down on the coffee table, before dunking an apple slice into the jar of peanut butter and stuffing it into her mouth. “The news isn’t good,” she said solemnly once she’d finished chewing.

  “What news?” Elvin asked.

  Alex pointed to the papers on the coffee table. “I looked through some of my dad’s real estate stuff and figured out what the numbers on the list from the museum mean. They’re borough, block, and lot, also known as BBL numbers. Every property in New York has one. The city uses BBL numbers to identify the location of buildings, and also for property taxes and stuff like that.”

  “So by looking at the BBL number, can you figure out the address of a particular piece of property?” Jin asked, opening to the first page of a new notebook. Alex nodded. “Which means that all the numbers on our list correspond to specific addresses?” Alex nodded again.

  “I don’t see how that helps us,” Elvin said. “Even if we know the addresses, that still doesn’t tell us why they’re on that museum guy’s list in the first place.”

  “I thought so, too. But then I started noticing that all the addresses were in Harlem, and all of them were located in a pretty defined area of the neighborhood,” Alex explained. “All of them also happen to be located in the Harlem World development zone. Which means that Museum Guy might be working with Markum. And Markum could be planning to bulldoze the properties on the list to make way for his stupid theme park.”

  Jin sighed heavily. “This is awful,” she said.

  “It gets worse.” Alex shook her head. “The partially demolished building we checked out yesterday, the community garden, the Magic Skillet, they were all on the list.”

  “So that’s what he meant.” Elvin’s brain clicked. “Yesterday at the building, those guys were arguing about Jarvis finding the painting in the garden, and one of them mentioned that the garden was on the list. Now I get it.” He sat down on the couch, holding his head in his hands as the reality of what he’d just said sank in. “These awful things, my grandfather’s attack, the Magic Skillet closing, the building being demolished were all planned. Whoever did it meant to destroy those places. They meant to hurt people.”

  Alex sat down beside him. “Don’t be sad, Elvin. We’re gonna stop them. I promise.”

  “But—but I thought that Markum had to wait to get approval for the project before starting any demolition,” Jin sputtered.

  Alex shrugged. “Either he’s really confident that he’s going to get approval and giving himself a major head start on the building process, or else he just doesn’t care.”

  “We need to go to the police! This has gone too far. We can’t let Markum get away with this,” Jin said, outraged.

  Elvin’s head jerked up. “He is getting away with it! Markum has that museum guy working for him, and they tried to kill us yesterday,” he said, his voice rising in pitch. “And I don’t mean to sound paranoid here, but who’s to say that the police aren’t also working for the councilman? They’re already looking for me. Could this whole mess get any worse?”

  “Well, yes, actually,” Alex piped up, on cue. “Harlem Hospital is also on Markum’s list. Sorry.”

  “What?” Elvin whirled around to face her. “When are they planning to tear it down?” he demanded.

  “That’s the thing, we don’t know. The list only has the addresses, not the construction schedule.”

  Elvin stood up abruptly and hurriedly put on his grandfather’s bulky trench coat and baseball hat.

  “Where are you going?” Alex asked.

  “I’m going to the hospital to check on my grandfather. You’re welcome to come if you’d like,” he said as he flew out the door.

  The main lobby of Harlem Hospital was bustling. Patients and doctors rushed to get to appointments. Orderlies swerved wheelchairs among the crowd, threatening knees and toes. Families huddled around sick loved ones, and elderly couples leaned on one another as they slowly tottered through the throng.

  “Hey, there’s Henriette’s mural! The one Dr. Whitmore told us about.” Jin pointed excitedly to a large mural that nearly took up an entire wall on the other side of the lobby. “Let’s go check it out.”

  “Wait! We have to find out about my grandfather first,” Elvin said.

  “Okay, but how do we do that? I don’t think it’s safe for you to ask anyone about him,” Jin said.

  “There’s an information desk over there. I’ll go and see if they’ll tell me anything about his condition,” Alex volunteered.

  Jin and Elvin watched as Alex casually walked toward the desk. “She’s not afraid of anything,” Jin said softly. Even though Alex could be reckless, Jin admired her courage, which definitely came in handy in times like these.

  Elvin did not agree. “A little fear never hurt anyone,” he said, pulling his baseball hat further down on his head. “I hope she doesn’t blow our cover and have the entire hospital staff after us.”

  Alex had no idea what she was going to say as she approached the information desk, which was staffed by a woman sporting platinum-blond hair with bright pink streaks. It was a terrible dye job, Alex noted. She could clearly see the woman’s dark roots, like a bed of soil beneath the brassy blond strands. “Excuse me,” Alex said politely.

  “Can I help you?” The woman asked without looking up from the magazine she was hunched over.

  “I was wondering if you could give me some information about a patient.”

  The woman sighed and reluctantly tore her eyes away from the magazine. “Name?”

  “Jacob Morrow.”

  Turning to her keyboard, the woman typed in the name with three-inch nails, painted the exact same shade of pink as the color in her hair. “You family?”

  “I’m his niece.”

  The woman glanced up at her suspiciously. “Says here his only family is the grandson who brought him in. I can only give patient information to the family members we have in our system,” she said. Then she quickly peeked over her shoulder and leaned toward Alex. “Normally, I’d give you the information, but my supervisor’s right over there and she’s been breathing down my neck today,” the woman whispered.

  So your supervisor is cool with you reading a magazine on duty? Alex wanted to say, but she just thanked the woman and headed back over to Jin and Elvin. Instead of stopping where they wer
e, she kept walking past them, beckoning them to follow her into a crowded elevator bank. She didn’t want to risk anyone spotting Elvin.

  “What did she say?” Elvin asked.

  “She wouldn’t tell me anything. You’re the only family member listed,” Alex said.

  “Now what?” Jin asked.

  Alex watched a crowd of people pushing onto an elevator. “Hey, do you remember your grandfather’s room number?” she asked Elvin. Elvin gave her the number, and before they could stop her, Alex jumped onto the elevator. “Meet you at the mural in a few minutes!” she called as the doors snapped shut.

  Jin and Elvin quickly made their way over to Henriette’s mural. The large painting depicted a vibrant, colorful scene of a block in Harlem. Through the windows of brownstones, the viewer could see scenes of the lives of residents inside. There was a family eating a meal together, a jazz musician practicing his horn, a little girl doing her schoolwork. In one window, a woman sat crying in a chair, while others hovered around to comfort her. In the next apartment, a child slept, cradling a stuffed animal beneath its chin. In another scene, a burglar snuck out of an apartment, carrying a sack of stolen goods on his back. Outside of the buildings, a little boy tottered on a rocking horse, surrounded by bigger boys riding bikes and playing ball. At the other end of the block, a group of girls clustered around a game of jacks on the sidewalk, while another younger girl skipped rope off by herself. In between, neighbors gathered, talking and laughing on front stoops.

  Making the invisible visible, Jin thought, remembering Miss Norma’s speech. “This piece is amazing, isn’t it?” she said to Elvin as she took a step toward the painting to get a closer look. She saw an elaborate black feather in the lower right corner of the mural that she hadn’t noticed before. It made the piece feel darker, sadder, somehow. “That’s odd. Why would someone put a feather there?” she muttered. “Doesn’t it look out of place?” she asked Elvin.