Lemmon's Journey

Chapter Fifteen

The rest of the week came and went with nothing happening. Nothing aside from the ordinary. Lemmon went to bed and woke up expectantly each morning for something to happen, speculating the outcome of whatever was supposed to happen, except nothing did. He spent plenty of hours restless and frantic and couldn’t stop recalling the pact he’d made with detective Miriam Quintez. Her final words to him had being to carry on like every day was another unimportant day for him. Already she’d sent feelers to Wilkes’ camp, so in time he, Wilkes, will undoubtedly come after Lemmon. As for Lemmon, he was to do nothing except wait for the moment to happen. Matter of fact, make like he was on holiday and try not to worry about nothing.

“When exactly?” Lemmon pressed the question, still uncomfortable with being made as bait to some drug hoodlum, but knowing nothing good would come out of arguing about it.

“Next couple of days is all I can say,” she had told him before they left the fast food restaurant. “I can’t tell you more because I honestly don’t know. You’re going to have to trust me on this.”

What was the point gripping over something beyond his control? A couple of days it was, and he’d reluctantly agreed. Lemmon went down to the lobby to extend his stay for another week. He would give it one more week, and if nothing happened then . . . well, something ought to. He went shopping and bought himself some new clothes. He returned to the optician’s shop and paid for a fresh pair of glasses. His money was dwindling and the troubling prospect that he won’t have enough on him to return home with preyed on his mind. Worst case scenario, he could call Marley to wire some to him, but felt it too early for that. He would wait till the end of the week and see how things go. Something ought to happen by then, he figured.

On the good side, he had Kiara helping to take the anxiety off his mind. They did go out for walks several times in the park. She was great company. For someone with as much problems as hers, she never stopped making him laugh; he seldom thought about Abby or anything else when he was with her. She introduced him to her daughters and rode the subway with him and took him all the way to Coney Island to stroll along the boardwalk by the water’s edge. He marveled at the majesty that was Grand Central. She laughed at the surprised look on his face as he marveled at the magnificence of the grand hall and told him he looked so much like a tourist. Lemmon took it as a compliment; this beats being back in Sheffield anytime, he responded. When alone, his thoughts went out to Shontelle. While he waited, he’d gone to see her, to try and patch things up with her, but she’d remained adamant not wanting to see him when he’d knocked on her door and announced who it was.

“How’re things going with you finding your grandkid?” Kiara asked him. It was a Friday and as usual they sat in the park with their back facing the roaming crowd of tourists marching along 5thAvenue. Lemmon wondered how stupendously rich one had to be to own an apartment in this small slice of New York. It was this same attraction, he reckoned, that had caught his daughter’s eye and brought her here in the first place. Everywhere he turned, he saw glitz and glamour. He made him afraid wondering what lay hidden behind it all.

“It’s coming along just fine,” he answered. “The police are looking into it, and hopefully there’ll be making a break soon.”

“That’s good to hear. I’m glad something’s being done.”

“They told me to sit tight and wait, just like I’m doing right now.”

“At least you ain’t breaking down no more.”

“I confess, the waiting is boring.”

“I know. Nothing beats waiting on stuff you don’t know is coming or not. You thought of what you going to do once you see your grandkid?”

“Well, the first thing is I pray he’s still going to remember my face,” he smiled. “Seven years is a long time for a kid, and I don’t know if he’ll still remember me.”

“You’d be surprised he will,” she said. “One thing I know about kids they never forget. They ain’t like us.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right. I just can’t wait to take him home with me.”

She turned her head to admire the people sharing the park with them. “It’s going to be different when you leave here. You think you’ll ever come back?”

“Back here to New York? I’d love to, but I don’t know. I’m not getting any younger. I can’t think of what else might bring me back here. I’m sure going to miss it, all of this.”

“I won’t. I’ve seen enough of New York; had my share of fun to last a life time. I know I’m not going to miss it.”

“You still going to Atlanta?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded. “Just waiting for a call to come sign some probate papers and then I’m off. See about starting all over again.”

“It’s hard, you know, starting all over, I mean.”

“Scary, too. But I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do. If not myself then for my little girls.”

“Your girls are beautiful,” he said. “You really are a great mother.”

Kiara smiled, then laughed. “You’re such a charming man, Lem. Really you are.”

“Thanks,” he smiled back. “In my former life, I probably was.”

That evening at the hotel, he gave Quintez a call. It was his second time of calling her since he began his waiting period. Lemmon knew he ought not be calling, but he couldn’t help it. His nerves were on fire, and he needed some reassurance, anything to calm himself down.

“How much longer?” he asked with a tight voice.

“Don’t worry, will you,” her voice sounded strained from the other end. “It’s going to happen soon. Trust me on this.”

“That’s the same line you gave me last time.”

“It’ll be the same if you keep sounding off the way you do,” came her sharp response.

“I’m sorry. Look, I’m not turning back on anything, I just wish it was over sooner.”

“My apologies as well. I too feel the same way, Lemmon. Trust me, you’re not alone on that.”

Lemmon hung up and returned to his room with little reassurance he’d hopped for. He spent the hour before midnight reading his second novel. It was his only piece of solace as the night grew darker and colder.

* * *

Lemmon never expected things would happen the way they did.

Two days after his last conversation with Detective Miriam, he and Kiara returned from an afternoon soiree to the hotel and being the gentleman that he was, he escorted her to her room before heading to his. Lemmon slipped his key into the lock but frowned with surprise when inched open for him. He was contemplating if he’d forgotten to lock the door when he left when a man appeared inside and motioned him to enter. The man wasn’t alone. His colleague had Lemmon’s bag opened on the bed and was rummaging through its contents, flinging clothes all over the bed.

“Hey, that’s mine!” cried Lemmon.

The man by the door grabbed him by the collar and yanked against the wall. Lemmon grunted as the hoodlum held him back with his forearm against his throat after he’d shut the door.

“Not a sound from you, old man,” the man warned him.

Lemmon held up his hands, not attempting to put up a fight. The hoodlum relaxed his grip and searched his coat pockets.

His colleague finished checking his bag and threw it to the ground. “The old geezer is clean,” he said.

“Who are you people?” Lemmon asked.

“Shut up, old man,” said the hoodlum in front of him. “You’re coming with us, you hear. We’re gonna walk out this hotel nice and quiet, and not a pip or nothing from you. Try something stupid, and you’re be one sorry old duck.” For clarification, he opened his jacket to reveal the gun he had stuck to his side. “Let’s move.”

The man opened the door and prodded Lemmon to walk in front while they followed behind. The second man locked the door and pocketed the key. Down the stairs they went and out the lobby where a car was waiting for them outside. Lemmon did as the previous time and got in the backseat with one of them while the driver started the car and drove off.

Lemmon was tensed, at the same time excited. His eyes followed the streets they drove past, also the number of cars they passed when they got on the expressway. He imagined detective Miriam, wherever she was right now, was aware of what was happening right now and had an idea where they were taking him to. She’d assured him there were surveillance eyes watching him every minute, especially when he gets picked up. Now was the time he hoped to believe that.

The ride was a long one. They drove up north toward White Plains, into a neighborhood that smelled of upper-class homes and secluded estates and streets branching off into suburban real estate. The car entered a quiet avenue close to the train station that bore a look of affluence. They slowed into the driveway of a large compound and stopped in front of a fountain circle facing a palatial home. There black SUVs were parked in the driveway as well. Lemmon got out as told, and approached the house. The front door opened before he got there, and a gorgeous black woman smiled at him and welcomed into the house, out of the sunlight.

Lemmon stood in the foyer and carried his eyes all over the house as he took off his hat. There was a hallway in front of him with thick carpeting and to the side a staircase led upstairs to wherever. The black woman took his coat and hat and told him which room to enter down the hall. Lemmon went in the direction she pointed.

The door opened into a large living room with an interior that resembled something lifted out of the pages of an upper-class English abode, everything down to the furniture and wall painting gave the aura of opulence and flamboyance. Wilkes looked debonair holding a wine glass in one hand and talking to someone on a phone. Three of his men sat at a dinner table playing cards and ribbing each other’s game. Lemmon didn’t spot the doo-rag fellow known as Jones amongst them. Neither of the men turned to acknowledge Lemmon’s presence. Wilkes finished his conversation and threw his phone on a chair then turned to face his guest.

“How’re you doing, old man?” he sat down on a couch and gestured at Lemmon to do the same. “Get you something to drink?”

Lemmon shook his head. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Being a while since last time I’d seen you. You enjoying the city, old man? Thought by chance you’d caught a bus and split.”

“We never concluded our business last time,” said Lemmon.

Wilkes took a cigar out of a case on the table beside him and bit the end off before lightning it. “We’ve got no business to discuss, old man. Consider this my kindest gesture that you’re here talking to me.”

“Last time we talked, you said you never wanted to see me again.”

“What can I say. You’ve sort of grown on me. You got me thinking of you all last week, I thought I’d invite you over.”

“Now that you have, what then do you want with me?”

“Don’t act so coy, old man. Let’s talk and see if maybe you and I can get each other what we both want. Though I’ve got to admit the things I’ve being hearing,” Wilkes puffed on his cigar and held it in front of his face staring at it while he continued. “A little bird has being singing in my ears later that’s got me staying awake at night. Ain’t nothing I hate most than hearing stuff that’s keeping me off my beauty sleep.”

Lemmon said nothing. Wilkes’s eyes were cold behind the smoke curling out of his cigar.

“You know what I’m talking about, old man?”

“I have no idea,” said Lemmon.

“What I hear is you’ve being tattling to the wrong kind of people. You’ve being telling stuff about me to the cops. That true?”

“Give me what I want, and you’ll never hear another word from me again.”

Wilkes laughed. He raised his glass to his nose and sniffed the wine. “Then I guess the little bird wasn’t lying after all. What you got in mind to do if I don’t give you what you want?”

Lemmon said nothing. Wilkes sucked on his cigar.

“I’ve got love for old folks like yourself, old man. Remember I mentioned that that at the club. But I ain’t got none when I gets to hearing someone talking s**t to the cops, especially when they ought to know better.”

“They asked me questions,” Lemmon said. “They wanted to know about the young man you killed.”

That brought silence to the room. The men stopped their card playing and some turned in their chairs to stare at Lemmon. No one said anything for a minute. Wilkes broke the silence.

“Ain’t no fun talking about the dead, old man. You oughtta know that. It’s bad luck.”

“Why did you do it, Wilkes?”

“Do what?” he asked.

“The young man named Reggie. He had nothing to do with you.”

Wilkes sucked on his cigar. “That ain’t business that concerns you, old man.”

“Well then what am I here for? Why bring me here?”

“We’ll get to that part. First, I’ve got something to show you,” he said. “Stuff you’ve been bugging me about.”

There was movement at the door. Lemmon turned his head to see the black woman who had welcomed him enter the room, leading someone along beside her. Lemmon felt all the blood in his body rush to his brain. Everything inside him seemed to swell with pain and love as the last seven years of his life suddenly melted away and he came face to face with his grandson. Randall looked at him, uncomprehending at first, then as if in slow motion the same emotive recognition appeared too in his eyes.

“Granddad!”

Lemmon’s heart somersaulted in his chest seconds before he bounded to his feet. Randall ran to him and Lemmon dropped to his knees and caught him in an embrace and they both cried each other’s name. The sound of his grandson’s voice to Lemmon was like water washing over his soul. His hand raised his glasses to wipe tears starting to pour from his eyes.

The black woman came to his side and tapped his shoulder. Lemmon let go of Randall for a second and listened to the woman tell him to follow her. Lemmon took Randall’s hand and together they followed the woman out of the room. Wilkes raised his cigar to his lips at the same time chuckled at the sight of them leaving.

The woman led them up the stairs to a door at the end of the corridor that was Randall’s bedroom. Randall opened the door led him inside. Too late, the door closed behind them and Lemmon heard a key turn in the lock. He tried the handle and found it found it to be true, then turned away from it. His concern for now was alleviated by his happiness of reuniting with his grandson.

The walls bore colorful renditions of various cartoon characters, the same went with the bed sheets and pillows. Randall led him past the cluttered toys and storybooks on the floor. Lemmon sat gingerly on the bed, picked up a rubberized doll of Kermit the Frog and dropped it aside while Randall enthusiastically presented him with his latest acquires his uncle Wilkes had bought him.

Uncle Wilkes!

That name sent bile rushing to Lemmon’s gut. The same hoodlum responsible for his daughter’s death was paying no expenses converting his grandson to his own. Lemmon had never despised anyone at that moment more than he had Shawn Wilkes, and in his heart prayed the bastard got all what detective Miriam promised would come to him if they succeed with their scheme. Lemmon was none the wiser how such scheme would bound work, except being primed as bait.

Randall came and sat on his knee; Lemmon tousled his grandson’s hair, thinking how he looked so much like Gloria. Randall caressed his stubble chin. Lemmon couldn’t stop the tears spewing from his eyes.

“Granddad, you’re crying,” Randall said.

“Yes . . . yes, I am. Oh God, Randy. I’ve missed you so much.”

“I’ve missed you too, granddad. I didn’t know I wasn’t going to see you again.”

“I thought so too before. But I’m here now.”

He got out his handkerchief and wiped his reluctant tears with it. His tears purged him of every aspect of pain he’d carried with him from Sheffield.

“Are you all right, granddad?” Randall helped wipe some of his tears for him.

“I’m fine,” he sniffled. “I’m all right. Your new friends here, how have they been treating you?”

Randall nodded. His eyes looked at his feet which he swung back and forth. “They treat me fine. Uncle Wilkes put me in a new school—he didn’t like my last school—I just started a month ago.”

“You like your new school you’re in?”

“Yeah, it’s okay. I’m starting to make new friends, and the teachers are all nice.”

“They feeding you all right?”

“Uh-Huh.” Randall looked at him curiously. “How did you find me, granddad?”

“It’s a long story, Randy. I just knew I had to come here to look for you.”

Randall returned to gazing at his swinging feet. “Grandma is gone, isn’t she?”

He looked at Lemmon with innocent eyes as if confirming he was right or not. Lemmon couldn’t say anything, and didn’t have to—it was all in his eyes. Randall saw it and suddenly he too started crying.

“Hey, why the long face? Don’t cry. Your granny is—”

“She’s gone, isn’t she?” Randall’s face curled and squeezed in a mask of crying fit. His words sounded like a clamoring ache. “Isn’t she, granddad?”

Lemmon’s voice choked when he spoke. “Yes, Randy. Your grandma is . . . she’s gone.”

Lemmon comforted him while he wept for his grandma. He too couldn’t help crying along with him.

“I always dream of her. I saw her giving me cookies. I miss her just like mom.”

“I know you do,” said Lemmon. “I miss them both too. You and I, we’re all that’s left. You’re all I have left in the world, Randy. It’s why I came looking for you. I want to take you home with me.”

Randall shook his head, wiped tears from his eyes. “Uncle Wilkes won’t let you.”

“Did he say so?” Lemmon asked.

“He says this is my home. He says he’s going to be my dad, but I don’t want him.”

“The black woman that you were with, who is she?”

“Her name is Sylvia. She works for Uncle Wilkes.”

“She look after you?”

He nodded. “She’s nice. But I’m scared of Uncle Wilkes. He won’t let you take me away.”

“We’ll see about that. It’s what I’m going to talk with him about letting you go with me.”

“I’m scared, granddad,” Randall rested his head on his chest and hugged him. “I’m scared.”

“I know,” Lemmon kissed his forehead and ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m scared, too. But we’re going to get through this. I promise we will, okay?”

“Okay,” Randall sniffled.

Someone knocked on the door, interrupting their reunion. The knock was followed by a key turning in the lock. The door opened and in walked Shawn Wilkes still holding the wine glass in his hand, grinning magnanimously. Sylvia stood behind him.

“Hi there, Randall. It’s time you had lunch. Your Aunt Sylvia’s got something special for you downstairs.”

Lemmon was reluctant to let Randall go, but figured it wouldn’t hurt. He set him down on his feet and told him to go ahead. Sylvia took Randall’s hand and Randall turned to look at Lemmon before being led out of the room. Now it was just Lemmon and Wilkes.

“You happy now, old man?” Wilkes said, taking a sip from his wine glass.

“I’ll be more than happy if you allow me to leave with him.”

“Can’t do that,” he shook his head. “I showed him to you as a sort of goodwill gesture. Now’s your turn to tell me everything you mentioned to the pigs. What did you tell them about coming to see me?”

“I told them what brought me to the city, that I came here looking for my daughter and her grandson. How I ran into Reggie and his girlfriend, Shontelle, and they told me my daughter had been dead since last December. Reggie said Gloria used to sell drugs for you. I talked him into taking me to the nightclub so I can meet with you. That’s about everything.”

“The pig of a cop you mentioned all this to, what’s his name?”

“It’s a she. Mariam Quintez.”

Wilkes nodded like he’d expected Lemmon to lie. “I know that Latino b***h. Nosey slut.”

“That’s all she and I talked about, nothing more. All I want is my grandson, and you’re not going to see or hear from me again.”

“Oh, I know that, old man. I know you ain’t going to be talking anymore. Right now I want you to stick around. I’ve got some business to attend to, then we’ll talk more about you. I’ll have Sylvia bring you something to eat. This is gonna take a while so don’t you go nowhere.”

Wilkes left the room and Lemmon heard the key turn in the lock again. Lemmon went to the windows that looked out into the large backyard. There was a wide swimming pool there, and Lemmon noticed two of Wilkes’s hoods prowling around. There was no chance of escape for him. He took off his jacket and returned to the bed.

The door opened minutes later and in walked Sylvia with a plate of sandwich and a glass of water. Lemmon thanked her for it and she went out and locked the door again. Lemmon loosened his tie, ate his sandwich in silence and drank his water when he was done. To kill time, he picked up some of Randall’s toys from the floor and dumped all of them inside his trunk full of toys beside the bed. He gathered his books as well and sat on the bed reading a Dr. Seuss coloring book. Finished with it, he opened one of the bedside drawers and arranged them inside. He opened the other drawer and found a wallet inside. It was a woman’s type of wallet. He looked into its side pockets and found a snapshot of Randall brimming in his mom’s arms in what appeared to be a festival parade going on in the background. Lemmon traced his finger over the contour of his daughter’s face. She looked beautiful in the photograph than the mug shots the detective had shown him at the station. All he had left of her now were memories. With time, those memories will fade into nothing. It wasn’t fair, and it troubled him to imagine how Randall must have handled the fact that she wasn’t alive anymore. He imagined Wilkes must have broken that news to him.

Lemmon laid his head on a pillow and stared at the ceiling.

He had fallen asleep and didn’t hear the lock turn and the door come open. Lemmon murmured when he felt someone tap his thigh. His eyes blinked awake and he brought his glasses to his face and saw two of Wilkes’s men staring down at him.

“Wake up, old man,” one of them said to him.

“I’m up,” said Lemmon, pushing himself up on the bed. He looked at his watch; it said 04:35 P.M.

One of the men gave him his coat and hat after he’d straightened his tie and worn back his jacket. They left the room and trooped down the stairs. Lemmon peeked inside the living room but didn’t find anyone in there. One of the men behind him told him to keep walking.

They stepped out of the front door and Lemmon saw the SUVs had changed their previous position and now faced the driveway with their engines running. Lemmon caught of a glimpse of Randall in the second vehicle. The men gestured at him to get into the third jeep, which he did with one of them getting in beside him. The driver was none other than doo-rag Jones himself. Jones made eye contact with him in the mirror as Lemmon settled in the backseat and the other got into the passenger seat. The two vehicles ahead began to move.

The front gate opened and all three SUVs filed out of the compound and drove out of the quiet, serene neighborhood.

In a similar home situated near the mouth of the street, someone watched them drive off. The young man hid behind a curtained window in a room on the top floor and took repeated snapshots of the vehicles pulling out of Wilkes’s compound before putting down his camera. A knock sounded on the door and in walked the mature woman in whose home the detective was performing a stakeout. She was carrying a tray laden with tea cups and enquired if the dear detective would care for one. He humbly declined, though thanked her once again for allowing the police department the benefit of her abode to conduct their reconnaissance.

“It’s no bother, officer,” said the woman as she took the tray out of the room. “You do remind me of my late son. It’s too bad he’s gone now, God rests his soul. No thanks to dealing with crowds like those punks living down the street.”

Finished with his stakeout, the detective began dismantling his camera and fixing them back into its case. His work here was done.