Lemmon's Journey

Chapter Fourteen

An hour after they left the site of Reggie’s corpse and drove to the police precinct, Lemmon sat in mute silence at Miriam Quintez’s desk with his hands folded on his lap, holding his broken glasses, looking like one lost in confession. Miriam wasn’t at her seat at the moment. She had left him to go table her report to her chief, but not before telling him not to go anywhere just yet. Lemmon wouldn’t have left his chair even if God had ordered him to. All around him the hub of the station went on as it typically did with detectives and other officers shuffling back and forth, talking into phones or questioning others. It could have being any ordinary day, except for him it wasn’t. He’d witnessed death up-close. A death brought upon by him, and it made him cold and empty inside. Worse than anything he’d felt since losing Abby; he felt broken just like his glasses. Lemmon paid no mind to the comings and goings in the room, no one did of him either. He was back in his mental prison. His eyes stared listlessly at his glasses in his hands, but all he saw was Reggie lying dead on the bench. But what he saw was Reggie’s lifeless eyes staring at him. His cold eyes mocked him for what he’d done to him, getting him killed for no pointless reason. No more was he going to Florida, now he was on a one-way ticket to a desolate cemetery where his flesh and everything inside him would rotten into the earth . . . just like his wife! Just like his good-for-nothing daughter!

Lemmon jumped in his seat, startled when he a hand fell on his shoulder. He looked up and his initial fear was that he was still caught in his sleep, lost in his nightmare as he saw his late wife staring down at him through teary eyes.

“Why?” she whimpered amidst her cries. Her words sounded accusing. “Oh God, why?”

Then his eyes cleared and he realized it was Shontelle. Tears streamed down her cheeks and she didn’t bother wiping them off. Lemmon came off his chair and embraced her; his heart cried out for her anguish.

“I’m so sorry, Shontelle,” he said to her. “I’m very sorry.”

He sat her down and got himself another chair. He held her hand and watched her continue to cry. He passed her his handkerchief.

“Did you see his body?” she asked him in-between sniffles.

He nodded. The memory of Reggie’s lifeless body will no doubt stay with him till his dying day, just like him finding Abby in the bathroom.

“How did he die? I got the call a while ago and no one would tell me anything.”

Lemmon didn’t want to say it, but the look in her eyes forced him to. “Someone beat him up and then stabbed him to death. They laid him out on a park bench close to the river.”

“Oh my God.” Shontelle doubled up and her cries resumed again and Lemmon laid her head on his shoulder and comforted her while she wept.

Miriam returned to her desk a while later and dropped a file folder on her blotter; she wasn’t wearing her jacket.

“Hi, Shontelle. Thanks for coming.”

Shontelle dried her eyes with Lemmon’s handkerchief.

“First off, I want to say I’m sorry for your loss. I know how close you and Reggie were and both of you were pulling yourselves together after everything you’ve been through. I wish I have more to say except we’re going to catch the people who did this to him. That I can promise you.”

“It’s Wilkes,” Shontelle sniffled, wiped her eyes. “Nobody else would do this except him. He had it in for Reggie a long time, ever since Reggie took me away and helped clean me up. Reggie was always afraid of running into him again.”

Miriam’s eyes switched to Lemmon before returning to Shontelle. Her feature hadn’t changed, but the look in her eyes sparked with intelligence. “You certain of this?”

“I’m positive. Reggie knew how dangerous Wilkes was, and always kept a low profile to avoid running into him. Besides, nobody else would have wanted to harm Reggie. He had no enemies, and he was straight just like I am.”

“That’s an excellent point, but if Wilkes was seriously after him, he could have done that any time prior to now,” Miriam suggested. Her eyes once against looked to Lemmon and he caught the imprecating glimmer she gave him and bowed his head as if in disgrace.

“I don’t know,” answered Shontelle. “I just know if anyone wanted to harm Reggie, it’s him. I know it.”

“I’m going to need both of you to write some statements,” Miriam said to them. “If there’s any chance of us bringing to justice whoever’s done this crime, we’ll have to start now.”

* * *

It was approaching evening when Lemmon and Shontelle left the station. Lemmon couldn’t believe how much had happened to him in a single day—it felt like a lifetime. They shared a cab with first stop being her place. Lemmon wanted to come up and talk with her, to give her further measure of comfort, but Shontelle told him she wanted to be alone. She had too much pain going on inside her and said she planned to cry her eyes off all night. Lemmon nodded his understanding, even though he felt pained by the rejection. It felt incriminating especially now she was aware, since back at the precinct, that he’d been the last person to see Reggie alive, and of the circumstances that led to them being at the club because he wanted to meet Wilkes. Lemmon saw the frigid, angry look in her eyes, like she was fighting back from exploding at him even at the station. He told her goodnight as she went up her building stairs but she didn’t respond. Lemmon felt despicable than he ever had in his life.

He exited the cab when he was two blocks from the hotel. He walked into a corner street littered with junk shops that sold just about everything under the sun, searching for where he could get his glasses fixed. Lemmon went a long distance before he located an optician shop. He went inside and got the man behind the counter to look at his problem. He left the shop minutes later wearing his glasses with the broken handle reattached and a solemn promise to get himself a new pair soon. He stopped at a Chinese restaurant and ordered some French fries and shrimp. He hadn’t eaten anything since the day began. With what he’d being through, he doubt he had enough appetite to finish everything, still it was worth having something to nibble on. Having paid for his meal, he as well dropped money for a soda and bottled water before taking his leave.

The walk back to the hotel was a burdensome affair, his mind preoccupied with absorbing Reggie’s demise every step of the way. His heart cried with hurt as he recalled Shontelle’s crying eyes, listened to her talk about the numerous of times Reggie had talked about them quitting New York for Florida. Twice he bumped into passersby, apologizing for it. How could he start seeking her forgiveness for what he’d done?

Lemmon sauntered into the hotel and stopped when someone called his name from the direction of the lounge room.

It was Kiara, sitting alone with a cigarette, gesturing at him to come join her. Lemmon didn’t want to—his burden demanded he be alone to drown in his misery tonight—but thought what the hell and entered the lounge room. They shook hands and he sat across from her, dropping his packages beside his feet.

“I stopped by your room to see how you were holding up,” she said before crushing her cigarette in an ash tray. “I thought you’d want to go for a walk down in the park with me.”

“It’s being a heck of a day for me. That walk in the park sure would have being a great idea.”

“You’ve been out all day?”

“Pretty much,” he said.

“You look worn out.”

“Very. You’ve no idea.”

“Bad heck of a day, right?”

“Worse day,” he corrected her.

“I can tell from the look on your face.”

Lemmon pushed his glasses up his nose. His nose was slick with sweat.

“You want to talk about it?” Kiara went on.

He shook his head. “I could, but I don’t want to ruin the evening for you.”

“Hey, I’ve got my own share of bad days. It ain’t nothing new to me. Sometimes it feels like it’s never going to end. So much bad in the world, you wonder where all the good has gone.”

“I wonder the same thing too, Kiara,” he said. “It’s kind of how I feel most times when I try counting the happiest moments in my life. Always they come up a handful. The bad moments are way too many.”

“Well, if you don’t want to tell me about your bad day, I ain’t gonna twist your arm. Tell me some of your good moments,” she asked.

He took off his glasses and wiped the lens with the end of his tie. He looked out the window at the evening that was starting to turn the city dark. His eyes saw beyond the darkness to a time beyond.

“One of my happiest moments—one that’s never left me—was when I proposed to Abby, my wife. I’d saved up enough money to pick up an engagement ring, crafted it to fit her finger. It was a Saturday. We’d made plans to go out for a picnic, and we drove to this quiet spot by a lake. I recited a poem to her, one I’d memorized. I then popped the question and like a magician, out came the ring from my pocket. The look on her eyes was just . . . breathtaking. She looked so beautiful.”

Kiara waited for him to continue. “That it?”

“No, that’s not it. When I was done talking, she suggested we jump in the lake for a swim. We got into the water holding hands. We had a couple of dips, then she swam into my arms and said yes.”

“Wow. That sounds beautiful. What other happy memories do you have?”

“Oh, there were plenty others. But none right now beats the level of that one,” he wore back his glasses. “Another that comes to mind, naturally, was the birth of our daughter, Gloria. I remember I was caught at work at the time when my secretary buzzed me saying my wife just called and said she wants my butt beside her at the hospital A-SAP. Those were her exact words.” Lemmon chuckled at the memory; Kiara joined him. His eyes watered as he recalled the moment. “I remember almost a minute I couldn’t make myself think straight. Next thing I knew, I grabbed my coat and tore out of that building like my life depended on it. I drove like a demon all the way to the hospital to watch my baby get delivered. A cop chased after me and pulled me over when I got to the hospital. He wanted to give me a speeding ticket, but when I told him what I was about, he tore it up, laughing, and warned me to be careful next time then told me congratulations. That was the first and last time I ever came closer to getting a speeding ticket. I haven’t being that reckless since.”

“Must have been some speed chasing,” she laughed.

“Yeah, and a great thing too it happened at night, but it was worth it. I got there just in time to see her get wheeled into the delivery room, and I even spent the night at the hospital.”

“She must have been a great woman.”

His voice turned soft and reflective. “Oh yeah, she was. I miss her every day, and most times even when I’m not asleep, I feel her looking down at me from wherever she is now. I can’t wait to be with her again.”

“You’re not thinking suicide, are you?” asked Kiara, concerned. Lemmon couldn’t help but laugh.

“That’s the same question everyone asked after my wife died. No, I’m not going off that way. Sometimes I can’t help it, though. Sometimes I wish I had the nerve to do it. The night I found my wife dead, I wished God had struck me dead. I know I shouldn’t be saying that, but that’s how I felt then. And to tell the truth, it would have been all right if that had happened. It would have been perfectly all right.”

He didn’t realize how angry his voice sounded until he looked up and saw the guarded way Kiara looked at him. Lemmon decided to stop himself from saying anything further.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to spook you that way. I can’t help it sometimes. Nothing has been good for me since she left me. When I found my daughter’s letters, all I could think of having a fighting chance at getting her back in my life. The thought of that seemed to bring me back alive again. Then I got here and found out she’s dead, and I’m so lost right now I don’t know what else to do.”

“I’m sorry for your lose, Lemmon. I know that sounds kind of shallow, but take heart, you hear. God’s kept you alive for a reason. Your journey ain’t over yet. God’s got something special marked for you.”

He nodded. “You’re right, my journey isn’t over yet. Right now though, I wish to God it was. So hard to think straight anymore.” He slapped both hands on his thighs and rose to his feet with a weary groan. “I think I’ve spoiled your evening enough. I’d better head up upstairs and see if I can lie down for a while and try not to think of anything else.”

Kiara left where she sat and came over and hugged him. “You take care and get yourself some sleep, you hear. Don’t let none of this try to get you don’t. It’ll all work out fine.”

“You sound more optimistic than me.”

She shrugged. “Like I said, I too have got my own bad days. But my mom had more than what I’ve got, and she’s still rocking.”

“That’s phenomenal. You still going to be out here?” he meant the lounge room.

“Yeah. My girls are making a racket upstairs and I can’t stand the headache. Going to have me another cigarette before I call it a night. How about you and I meet here in the morning and go out and have breakfast.”

“I’d like that. Let’s say about nine. Meet you here in the lounge.”

“Nine it’ll be. Good night.”

He picked up his take-away meal and said goodnight to her. He walked out of the lounge room and went up to his room.

* * *

Someone knocked on his door. Lemmon turned in his chair and listened, not sure if the knocking was actually on his door or the room next to his. The knock repeated itself again, and he knew it was his. He looked at his watch; it was past midnight. Sleep wasn’t on his mind, so he’d sat up by the table reading one of his bought novels and now this. He wore his glasses and approached the door, thinking maybe it was Kiara.

Detective Quintez stood in the corridor, still in the same outfit she’d worn earlier that day. Lemmon was baffled seeing her there.

“Evening, detective,” he said. “Ain’t it rather late?”

“Button up your shirt, put your coat on and meet me downstairs,” she said to him. “You and I are going to take a ride.”

The image of Reggie flashed before his eyes and he became worried. “Where to this time?”

“Don’t ask and I won’t tell. Meet me downstairs, I’ll be waiting in the car.”

She turned and walked away. Lemmon stood there bewildered and watched her go down the exit stairs. He could hear what sounded like a couple fighting in the room beside his. The sound of items crashing let him know it wasn’t going good. He closed his door and got busy putting on his clothes.

Lemmon trooped down the stairs minutes later with his coat and hat on and a scarf around his neck, minus his tie. He stopped to check the lounge room and saw it empty, as if expecting Kiara to still be here at this hour. The hotel looked dead and quiet and the clerk had his face resting on his arms snoring on his counter as Lemmon went past him and out the hotel’s doors. The night was cold and it made the hairs on his chin itch; he’d forgot to put some cologne.

A car was parked outside by the curb. Miriam leaned toward the passenger window and opened the door for him. Lemmon settled inside and then she drove off into the night.

They made their way along the tangle of streets, each street looking much like the one they just passed. Street lights and bright neon lights streamed past their window like gaudy signposts leading them further into the dark city. Lemmon felt the pressure of sleep starting to knock at his eyes and repeatedly rubbed at his eyes to make it go away; he couldn’t stop the yawns that issued from his mouth. Miriam bore no sign of lethargy at all; she concentrated solely on what’s in front of her windscreen. Lemmon wanted to repeat his question about where they were going but doubt she would respond. He held his peace instead.

They drove over the Brooklyn bridge and for another mile before cutting into a side street which led them into a dark neighborhood. Lemmon looked around and all he saw were empty block of buildings; there was hardly anyone walking the streets, and the street lights weren’t functioning. He was suddenly afraid, and surprised he saw no such emotion reflected on the detective’s face. He prayed whatever reason she had brought him here for would end quickly. The warm comfort of his hotel room called to him to hurry back.

They came to an abandoned lot surrounded by a row of what appeared to be dilapidated apartment buildings and Miriam switched off her headlights and killed the engine. Silence reigned like a ghost. She opened her door and Lemmon waited for her to signal him to do the same before opening his door as well. A cold breeze hit his face, bringing a foul stench to his nose. The lot looked like a dumping yard of everything rotten. There was an eerie decrepitude about the place that made Lemmon wonder why he’d even said yes to coming here.

Miriam motioned him to follow her. They walked to one of the dilapidated buildings and she pulled out a flash light from her waistband and flicked it on as they entered the doorway. Everything was dark, morbid, and claustrophobic inside. Lemmon felt his heart skipping beats as he followed. They went up a narrow stairway and entered a dark corridor. They came to a door and Miriam turned to him with a finger to her lip that he remain quiet. She tapped a knuckle on the door and waited. Lemmon shifted in his feet like he was about to flee when he heard footsteps from within. The door creaked open for them to enter.

The room had once served as someone’s bedroom in a former life. Except for a broken down bed, there was little furniture inside. The walls and ceiling were cracked and torn down to reveal the crumbling structure underneath and the windows were boarded up with wood. The man who’d welcomed them inside struck a match and lit the lamp he held in his hand, while Miriam flicked off her flash light. Lemmon gasped as he quickly recognized the man as one of Wilkes’s men, the one with the doo-rag.

“Did anybody see you?” Miriam asked him.

“No,” said doo-rag, lowering the lamp’s wick then dropping it at a corner of the room. “But we’ve got little time. Wilkes is making a move soon. A shipment is arriving soon at the Harlem harbor from Nova Scotia, and word is it’s going to be big. Customs already being settled.”

Miriam pulled out a note pad from her back pocket and wrote down everything he said.

“How big a shipment are we talking about?”

“He’s upped his game to fifty k. He reckons the cops have backed off his behind. So far he ain’t caught no wind yet.” Doo-rag looked at Lemmon. “Hey there, old man. Sorry about that roughing up I gave you back at the house. Needed to make it look good or else.”

Lemmon didn’t say anything except nod his head. He was baffled at whatever was going on here, but didn’t want to break the spell until he and Miriam were safe in the car and far away from this place.

Miriam and the doo-rag fellow resumed their conversation. Lemmon listened to their exchange but wasn’t interested in all of it and was glad they didn’t involve him.

The man checked his watch then picked up the lamp. “I’d best be skipping. I’ll take the west exist.”

“You’ll be hearing from me,” said Miriam. “Just keep your head down with it comes.”

The doo-rag fellow nodded and bowed his head at Lemmon before blowing out the lamp. Miriam’s torch came back on and Lemmon followed her lead out of the room and out the same way they’d come while doo-rag went in the opposite direction.

Her cruiser was where she had left it; Lemmon half expected thieves would have broken into it by now and driven off. He was happy when her engine purred to life and she drove out of the wretched neighborhood. He felt more relaxed when they returned to the scene of bright lights and cars driving along the highway. They returned across the bridge and after a couple turns, Miriam pulled into the parking lot of a MacDonald’s drive-through.

“Come on, let’s get something to drink,” she said to Lemmon. “I’m off-duty. My treat.”

Lemmon followed her inside and they ordered cheeseburgers and soda then got themselves a booth by the window with a view of the parking lot. Miriam watched the few cars that drove in and out of the lot. Lemmon bit into his burger and waited for her to start talking.

“I’m going to come clean with you, Lemmon,” she sipped her drink before continuing. “And the reason why I’m doing so is because I need your help.” She looked at him to emphasize her seriousness. “If you help me, I promise to help you with what you came here for. I’ll help you get your grandson.”

Lemmon looked at her, still not having a clue of what she meant, but eager to hear what she had to say to him.

“You recognize the guy I was talking to, didn’t you?”

“I do. He was with Wilkes when I went to see him.”

“Officially that’s what he is. Unofficially, he’s an undercover narcotics agent. For months now, we’ve been setting a joint task force operation to bring down Shawn Wilkes. For months now we know he’s been shipping his drugs into the country from Canada, but we really didn’t know how or where. Now we know.”

“Is this in anyway related to my daughter?”

“Not really,” she answered. “The early times we went after Wilkes, he walked because the charges were petty and too thin for us to them stick. He had his women as his mules doing his courier work for him. For every one of his hookers we caught, there was too little on them to attribute coming from him. Then there was the fear aspect. Wilkes inspires a lot of that from whomever works for him. Most would rather do the time than squeal, and those who tried ended up in the gutter, moored to bricks and dumped in the Harlem river. Shocking, I know, but you’d be amazed the bodies we find. We had to make like we weren’t concerned about coming after him so he could make his move.”

“I guess my going to confront him that other night sort messed things up for you.”

“Seemed that way at first,” she took a bite off her cheeseburger. “I was sort of pissed at you about it when I dropped by to see you yesterday, and I apologize for that. I can’t describe to you the amount of pressure that’s riding on me regarding this. When you’re working a joint sting operation, a lot can happen that might c**k things up. When we found Reggie on the bench, I was afraid Wilkes had found out about Jones and done him in, too. We won’t have anything to go on if not for him.”

“Jones. You mean the fellow we just met?”

She nodded. “That’s the street name we gave him. Technically, he doesn’t exist, and you never really saw him,” she emphasized this. “I want you to get that in your head before we go any further.”

It was Lemmon’s turn to become frustrated. “Why don’t you stop treating me as if I’m a child and tell me whatever it is you want me to help you with.”

“Wilkes is going to send for you again,” she told him. “And you’re going to keep playing the role of the lonely, washed-up granddad who wants his grandson back. Make him believe you’re going to squeal to the cops about him if he doesn’t get you what you want.”

“He said he wasn’t going to be happy seeing me again.”

“He’ll probably want to get rid of you, but he’s not going to do that. He’s not going to do that because right after you and Shontelle left the station, his lawyer showed up for a talk, and we presented him with a copy of your statement claiming his star client kidnapped your grandson, and you’re thinking of involving the media.”

Lemmon watched her eat her burger while her words sank into his head. He didn’t need much goading to think through the lines of what her actions meant.

“You’re using me for bait? Is that what you’re saying?”

She gave him a perfunctory smile. “I’m sorry, but you got yourself involved in something you shouldn’t have. Not that you were aware of it. All this is strictly off the record. My boss will definitely fry my ass if he knew I’m involving a senior citizen like yourself into this.”

“Then why are you?”

She wiped her lips with a napkin before speaking. “I’m doing this because I took a vow a long time ago to rid the city of scum like Shawn Wilkes. Right now, this is the only way it can be done. There’s plenty of bullshit going on between being a cop and chasing crooks who like hiding behind the law. Too many watch dogs peaking at our tactics, and the crooks keep getting wiser at exploiting the situation. We either do this way, or God forbid, you probably won’t see your grandson till he’s turned into an adult junkie. Or worse, ends up dead like hundreds of others like Reggie.”

The thought of such was enough to scare Lemmon of his wits. Still it was a risky venture what she was asking of him. What worried him was the fact that she was turning him into a sheep waiting for a wolf pounce so she can take it down. What are the chances of the wolf maiming him before she even got the chance?

“There’s a chance this might and might not work, isn’t there?”

Miriam shrugged her shoulders. “There always is.”

“All I wanted was my grandson. Now you’re giving me this crap talk about me walking into something I ought not have? Is this some crazy type of joke?”

“I wish it was that simple to explain,” she said to him defensively. “But you’ve got to stop looking at everything from just where you’re sitting. You think your daughter is the only kid’s life that’s ended this way? I see kids like Reggie dying every day, shooting poison up their arms or snorting it up their nose, and you think that doesn’t hurt me inside? If I could put a bullet in Wilkes’s forehead, I’d do it right now without losing any sleep. Except that would be execution, and I’m too much of a cop to stoop so low. Only way we can win is to catch them with their pants down. Sometimes you just need to lay your head low to swing an upper cut.”

Lemmon retracted. “I’m sorry if I made it seem like you didn’t care. It’s obvious you do. Another thing I’m worried about is I don’t even know if my grandson is alive. For all I know, I could be wasting my time over nothing.”

“You grandson is alive, Lemmon. Jones told me.”

A look of hope came to Lemmon’s eyes. “He did?”

She nodded. “I’m on the level with you here, okay. The only way you’re going to see your boy is if you help me bring Wilkes down. Once we take him down, then every other child or woman under him will be free. You help me do this, and I promise to get you your grandson.”

“You promise he’s not going to come to any harm?”

“He won’t,” she said.

Lemmon thought for a moment. He could have declined. He could easily have told her no to whatever help she wanted from him. She was a detective for God’s sake, and he was nothing but a retiree mourning a wife and daughter. He could still call it quits and be on the next train back to Sheffield. But doing that, he’d be abandoning his grandson to a fate worse than death. Then there was Reggie. The kid had a life ahead of him and didn’t deserve being murdered. Lemmon owed it to him to see this through.

He saw that Miriam was waiting for his answer. He hated admitting defeat to his inner self, the one fellow in all of this who’d have loved for him to count his losses and return to Sheffield, but he’d already made his answer before he even took the decision. He knew he would spend the rest of the night pondering the answer he was about to give the detective. Not that it would make him any happy or comfortable with the choice.

“All right, detective. I’ll help you whatever way I can.”

She smiled and touched his hand. “I can’t thank you enough, Lemmon. And please, call me Miriam. It’s about time we were on first name basis.”

“Miriam it is then. Now how about you driving me back to my hotel. I’ve got to catch up on my sleep.”

For the first time since he’d met her, Miriam laughed. It was a lovely laugh, and Lemmon felt warmed by it.