Falls The Shadow

49

Horace T. Grant stood on the corner in front of Tommy’s High Ball, his chin up, his creased face creased with concern. It was not a good look for Horace. His natural expression was one of repugnance, disdain, his features were generally etched with a sweet scorn for the general stupidity of the world. I watched him a moment as he worriedly fingered his bow tie. I almost felt something for him then, some sort of empathic pity, before I beeped the horn and he saw my face in the window and his normal derisive expression returned.

“You get lost, boy? Seems like I been standing here since Truman was president.”

“The judge held us longer than I expected.”

“Did you tell him I was waiting? Did you tell him his inconsiderate lethargy was seriously inconveniencing an upstanding member of the community? I’m an old man, I don’t got time to waste.”

“Probably less than you think. I’ll tell him next time.”

“You do that. Remind him he works for us, not the other way around.” He bent his ancient frame to fit into my car. “Now, where we going? You found us a shaman this time, or a conjure man, or any other of your garden-variety frauds and tricksters intending to feed us smoke and mirrors and tell us squat?”

“We’re going back to Madam Anna.”

“That old scarecrow? Why we going to waste any more time with her? I’d just as soon stick a hot poker in my ear as listen to her screech again about my shoes or that there spirit world she’s in touch with.”

“She called me,” I said. “We set up a meeting.”

Horace T. Grant leaned back, stared at me for a long moment. “How’d you get that one-eyed witch to call you?”

“It was funny, actually. Out of the blue, an L &I inspector paid our Madam Anna a visit. Would you believe she didn’t have a business-privilege license after all?”

“Shocking,” said Horace T. Grant.

“The inspector, in the course of his writing out the violation notice, mentioned my name. It turned out that I successfully defended this same inspector in a DUI case just last year. Funny how that works, isn’t it? When she called, I said I would tell her how to take care of the violation notice, so long as I learned what I needed to learn about the girl.”

“I must then say, I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“For calling you a less-than-useless piece of seagull doo.”

“Apology accepted.”

“See, I can admit when I am wrong. Takes a big man to do that, but here I am. You still a piece of seagull doo, and you still pretty much useless. But not less than that, no, sir, not less than that at all.”

It wasn’t long before we were back in that maroon room in Madam Anna’s apartment, candles burning on that pale blue table, the yellow symbols dancing around us as if alive. We were waiting again, that seemed to be Madame Anna’s method of operation, make the stiffs wait so long that when she finally does appear, it seems like a deliverance from on high. Horace’s black porkpie hat sat in front of him on the table.

“How’s this?” I said, showing Horace my thumb-twiddling technique. “I think I have it down.”

Horace took a look, raised his gaze to the ceiling. “Lord, save us from amateurs.”

Just then the far door opened, and Madam Anna, in her shimmering green robe, entered the room, accompanied by a skinny man in a plain black suit, white shirt, narrow black tie. The man had long arms, yet still the sleeves of his jacket reached his knuckles. He looked, the man, with his long arms and hunched shoulders, as if he had just come from burying the dead. The two sat across from us and stared for a moment. We let them.

“I have something for you,” Madam Anna said finally. She reached into one of the sleeves of her gown, pulled out a piece of paper, handed it to me.

I hoped it was an address. No such luck. Instead it was a notice of violation made out to Madam Anna by the Licenses and Inspection Department of the City of Philadelphia. I looked at it and shrugged as I tossed it onto the table.

“They want five thousand dollars in fines and fees,” she said. “You will take care of that.”

“Tell me where Tanya Rose is.”

“I don’t know where she is,” she said. “But I brought the Reverend Wilkerson to talk to you. He’s a man of the cloth, so I assume you will trust what he says.”

“I appreciate the reverend’s being here. We can all use the help of the Lord in our endeavors. But I’m not here to pray, I’m here to find a little girl. An address is all I need.”

“We understand the seriousness of your mission, Mr. Carl,” said the Reverend Wilkerson. He had a beautiful, deep voice and a warm smile, both of which seemed out of place in his small, hunched frame. He sat with his hands clasped in front of him, and he fixed me with his eyes as he spoke, as if they had some unearthly power. “And our hearts are touched by your concern for such a young and vulnerable member of our community. That is why I have come. I am here to assure you that she is in the best of hands and there is nothing for you to fear.”

“So why am I suddenly more afraid for her than I was before?”

“I can’t imagine,” he said, still smiling.

“Who are you to the girl?”

“She is among my flock.”

“I suppose, then, you are exactly the man I should be speaking to.” I took a copy of the order appointing me to be Tanya Rose’s counsel and placed it in front of the reverend. “I have been named by the Court of Common Pleas as counsel to the young girl we’re talking about. I need to see her, and I need to see her right away.”

“That’s not possible.”

“And why is that?”

“Because she is now happy and healthy with her new family. Everything is going wonderfully. Your appearance would disturb her delicate equilibrium.”

“Me? I’m a sweetheart. Aren’t I a sweetheart, Horace?”

“He’s a sweetheart, all right,” Horace said with a grump in his voice.

“See? I wouldn’t disturb a fly.”

Reverend Wilkerson glanced at Madam Anna. “Some would beg to differ,” he said. “And the family she is now with is frightened of what you might do. Frightened that you might take away their child.”

“First, she is not their child. Second, I don’t have the power to do anything on my own, everything I do is within the bounds of the law. And third, anyone who is keeping me from seeing my client is indubitably not working in her best interests.”

“Indubitably, Mr. Carl?”

“Quite,” I said. “Let’s start at the beginning here, Reverend. How did you get involved with Tanya?”

“Madam Anna and I have known each other for some years. She understands my deep concern for the children of the community. When she mentioned to me that she was aware of a girl who needed a home, I told her I would make sure she was taken care of.”

“Any money change hands?”

“Is that important?”

“I suppose that means yes.”

“There may have been expenses we reimbursed.”

“And you investigate these homes carefully, Reverend? You do home visits, background checks, follow-ups to make sure she is being properly taken care of? An outreach program with ongoing support and evaluation?”

“I do what I need to do, the good Lord does the rest.”

“So let me get this straight. Tanya’s mother simply gave the girl to Madam Anna. Then Madam Anna sold the girl to you. And you gave her away, or sold her to the highest bidder, hoping that providence would keep the girl safe, is that it?”

“What are you really doing here, Mr. Carl? What’s your angle in all this?”

“I’m here pro bono.”

“Who the hell’s Bono?”

“U2?”

“Me what?”

I sighed loudly. “This girl is my client. I’m just doing my job.”

“But how did she just happen to become your client? That order drop out of the sky into your hand?”

“Something like that,” I said, although, truth be told, it wasn’t something like that at all.

“Have you ever considered, Mr. Carl,” said the reverend, “that we are just trying to help that girl?”

“You’re trying to help, I’m trying to help, everyone seems to be trying to help, but things keep getting worse, don’t they?”

“You won’t leave this be, will you?”

“No, I will not.”

“So we are at an impasse.”

“Not for long,” I said, standing. “You do know, both of you, that baby selling is against the law. Expect the police to show up at your door, Reverend.”

“I have the protection of the First Amendment.”

“That’s what they said at Waco.”

“I know you,” said Horace to Reverend Wilkerson. “I recognize your voice. You drive that hearse through the city, the one with the fake coffin and the body sticking up out of it, the one preaching out against drugs and violence.”

“That is I,” said the reverend.

“Driving around with that ugly thing on top your car, quoting Scripture out a bullhorn, making all kinds of racket when we’re just trying to sleep. What do you think you’re going to accomplish?”

“I’m trying to save our community.”

“How about saving my sleep? You get my age, it don’t come so easy. And then, just as I’m sinking into slumber, you drive along and blast me sky-high with your preaching.”

“Maybe you need saving, too, old man.”

“And you got that run-down hotel on Fifty-first that you turned into some sort of shelter and meeting place, the Hotel Latimore, it is, where you take care of all kinds of families don’t got no homes for themselves.”

“I do what I can.”

“Yeah, I know you, all right,” said Horace. “We got enough folks making things worse, so I appreciate those fighting to make things better. But you should appreciate what this boy’s fighting to do, too. He’s not from us, is ignorant of our ways, among many other things, but that don’t mean he don’t care. He had a choice, he could have walked away from this girl who he’s never in the life of him ever met. Others would have, said it was too hard, thrown up their hands. But he didn’t. Now he got himself in the middle of a mess, legally responsible for a girl he can’t find, standing up to a man with a bullhorn. It takes a heap of stupidity to do all that. It’s not up to you to shut him out.”

“I have my responsibilities,” said the reverend.

“So does he.”

“I am sorry,” he said. “I’ve done all I can.”

“That’s not good enough,” I said. “I am scared for my client, and I am not in the mood to be patient. I tried to do this the polite way, Reverend, but that’s over. Let’s go, Horace.”

Horace pushed himself to standing, propped his hat on his head. “Quite a boy, ain’t he?”

“A real firebrand,” said Wilkerson.

“I taught him everything he knows,” said Horace.

“Oh, Mr. Carl,” said Madam Anna before we could leave. “We had a deal. What about this paper from the city? What about the fines?”

“You want my help, is that it? My expert legal opinion?” I stepped to the table, picked up the notice, scanned it quickly. “This shouldn’t be a problem.”

“What should I do?” she said.

“Pay it.”