For NaNoWriMo: The Field of Blood, part 16
Captain Hamilton, Captain Lee, the Varicks, and Mrs. Drake all get up and set out for Mr. Rett's apartment, only to be surprised by the state of things and by each other ... You can get caught up on part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, and part 15 to catch up on all the twists and turns!
Ironwood Hamilton lingered in bed five extra minutes, chatting with his wife.
“This is one of those days I'm glad Harry came on to Big Loft with me – one of those days where you know you need someone to have your back.”
“I hear you,” she said. “I know it's been heavy on you.”
“The problem, Aggie, is that we live in a world in which the hardest thing to accept is the truth, especially in a situation like this.”
“Well, Woody, it's like trying to get Ira and Agnew to eat their vegetables – eventually, the Lord will give those who are supposed to get it the taste for it.”
“Thank you, Aggie. I needed to hear that. Thank you, my love – thank you.”
Mr. and Mrs. Varick also were awake.
“The night was really short,” he said, “before such a long, dark day as it is going to be.”
“I know, James,” Mrs. Varick said. “I know … settle in for thirty more minutes with me and just rest, and then we'll get started … .”
Mrs. Drake did not sleep. She sat up all night, crying and praying and waiting for the morning. She freshened herself up in time to put on coffee and breakfast, had some coffee and then went with her son Dell to the new independent study group he was in to get his schooling back on track. So, far, in an environment that showed respect to Black people and their history, he was doing well, and was more motivated to take his necessary medications and keep up with the requirements Lofton County had for high school.
The founder of the independent study group was Major Thomas Stepforth Jr., just retired from the Army: he had come home and listened to his own eldest son talking about the difficulties he and others were having in the county high school, the constant disrespect and lack of concern, and the fact that administration had been caught by the Lofton County Free Voice talking about how they were keeping the pipeline to prison open.
“It's too much, Dad – me and my homies would have been dropped out by now, but you know Mom called Grandfather and he just moved on in and would have killed us all. Pops has been up at the school fightin' for us, every day, though, so we got through the semester, but it's just too much to be in a place where the people who are supposed to be educating us hate us.”
Major Stepforth had started gathering information, and then decided on a course of action: his home in Tinyville had an old guesthouse, and he was going to convert it to a study hall. His father, Thomas Stepforth Sr., just wrote a check for the whole thing without even thinking twice, and put hammer time in with a lot of Black men in the community to get the job done by end of the summer. Meanwhile, quietly, several Black families decided to put their young boys on independent study, and those students began to show up for Stepforth Study Hall every day. By the time Dell had arrived, he was the eleventh young Black man to do so.
“We're so glad to have Delford here,” Major Stepforth said. “He has a tremendous amount of intelligence, wedded with a strong sense of how to make things right. He is a stabilizing force with his strong personality.”
“I bring him here partially because this is the only school-type environment where we hear that said,” she said as Dell lit up and stood taller. “Dell, I know you're doing well now … Mama is getting her stuff together too, and soon, we'll both be doing well again.”
“I wish you would be here more,” he said.
“After today, I will,” Mrs. Drake said. “There's good Wi-Fi overall, so we can come early and I can do my billing and coding for a few hours and then be helping out here. I promise, Dell, that I will.”
Dell smiled from ear to ear, and Major Stepforth did too.
“We do need more people with your kinds of skills, Mrs. Drake, and we'll be glad to see you more often. This education work goes better, the more parents we have involved.”
“I'll be here with Dell tomorrow, and I'll be here,” Mrs. Drake said. “Just have some business to finish today.”
Back to the Varick home, where Mr. Varick was out dealing with the early newspaper tasks. Mrs. Drake just settled in beside Mrs. Varick on the sofa to wait, and in the calm, loving presence of Ella Varick finally got some sleep. When Mr. Varick returned, Mrs. Varick gently woke Mrs. Drake.
“I'll be right here along side you, all the way, Hettie,” said Mrs. Drake.
Mrs. Drake started to cry, but then pulled herself together.
“Let's just get this done – I bet I know how to find what we need to find today. I've never been to J.O.'s apartment in Big Loft, but I know something of how he thinks – thought.”
And then Mrs. Drake couldn't hold back the sobs for a good long time. Mr. Varick sat down on the other side of her, and the Varicks just held on to their cousin until she was calm again.
“We know you loved him, Hettie, and there's no sin in love,” Mr. Varick said. “You have nothing for which to be ashamed. You did what you could, and, after today, we all will have.”
1:00 – Even in November, well past the heat of the year in southern Virginia, the mid-afternoon was not a good time to come to an apartment which had not had the garbage taken out for a week, especially if the garbage contained pungent potentials.
“Ramps, and caviar, six days unrefrigerated – not such a delicate treat any more,” Captain Hamilton said to Captain Lee as they paused at the door to Mr. Rett's apartment. “Remind me not to forget to release a scene for cleaning.”
“I don't see where you would need a reminder after this experience,” Captain Lee said, a slight pinch coming into his near-perfect marble composure. “The very sight of a garbage can should suffice – and that's before we have to deal with the actual maggots.”
“One would think with all the money he was pulling in, an apartment with a door on the kitchen would be a good choice.”
“Ham, you can't even remember what bachelor life is like,” Captain Lee retorted. “The couch is here, the refrigerator is right here – why have a door?”
“You're right, Harry – I forgot all about that stuff. It's November; I think we will let more odor out than flies in.”
“Or, we remove any possible reason to stay in here longer and get this done,” Captain Lee said as he produced the key.
“That's good too,” Captain Hamilton said. “We've faced worse, so, let's get it done.”
But maybe not much worse … six days of decomposition on ramps, caviar, and a whole slew of poultry leftovers were about as bad as finding a body that might have ingested all of that, six days later … in spite of knowing better, Captain Hamilton expected to find Mr. Rett's body around every corner as he and Captain Lee searched his personal papers.
One hour into the search, there was a noise in the hallway, and footsteps at the door.
“When you live an interesting life, you keep getting visitors,” Captain Lee mouthed to Captain Hamilton as they went inside the bathroom and took observation positions.
“They haven't cleaned up the scene yet,” came a male voice. “I'm not quite sure y'all will want to get any closer.”
“Let's just get this done,” said a female voice. “His body can't be in there – that's just week-old garbage.”
“Must be a lot of it,” said another female voice. “I wasn't talking to him every day so I don't know what his schedule was.”
“Whole separate life,” the other female voice said. “You were right when the idea of him coming to see you but never inviting you to see him in Big Loft was a red flag. Probably a whole separate woman too.”
“Not that it matters now,” said the male voice. “I'm opening it – get ready.”
The door was opened, and –.
“Ooh, that is ripe,” said one of the women. “Overripe.”
“Good metaphor for this whole situation – looks like we weren't the first ones here,” said the other woman.
“Yes,” the male voice said. “And, yes, the lock has been picked – but we knew that, because of all the foolishness going on with Topia. Let's just let that air out for a little bit. I'm glad Mama Rett hasn't come up yet to see any of this.”
“I wonder if the police have been here yet,” said one female voice.
“Captain Hamilton is thorough,” said the male voice. “By now I'm sure he has – but he may not be finished, because he doesn't seem like the type to leave a mess if he can help it. On the other hand, since J.O. tended to have a fair share of posthumous visitors, let's get in here and get this done and get out of here. Look around, Hettie, and I'll watch our backs.”
There was a sound of a big-caliber gun being cocked, but not before Captain Hamilton mouthed to Captain Lee: “Hettie Varick Drake.”
Captain Lee nodded and then motioned with his head toward the sitting room with a questioning expression on his face. Captain Hamilton nodded. It would be better at once to make their official presence known.
“Consider yourselves well-protected from the criminal element,” came a familiar voice to Mr. Varick's ears.
Mrs. Varick and Mrs. Drake jumped, and then both picked up chairs.
“Put those down,” Mr. Varick said. “Wood doesn't work in a gunfight any way – Captain Hamilton, is that you?”
“Yes, sir, it is. Shall we all put away our weapons?”
“We shall, sir, we shall.”
And so, Mr. Varick, Captain Hamilton, and Captain Lee all showed each other the sight of putting their weapons away.
“My wife, Ella Mae Varick, and my cousin, Hettie Varick Drake,” said Mr. Varick by way of introduction.
The two captains introduced themselves to the two women, and Captain Hamilton noticed without drawing notice to the fact that Captain Lee, who had been married to a Black woman before, was dazzled by the widow Drake – she in her Hall-of-Fame WNBA form was of course very different from petite Vanessa Morton Lee, but she made a profound impression nonetheless.
Not that Mrs. Drake was aware of any of that; she had probably never felt less sexy in her entire life than in this strange, unknown place that the man she had once loved but had broken things off with resided in. It was a strange moment for her, to feel more and more like she had been a fool to even have been worried about it, to have wasted time wondering if she should have handled things differently with J. Oscar Rett. She saw those Touch of Arlington boxes, and thought it not strange, in the end, that the place smelled somewhat like a cemetery that had not done the job quite right. The whole five days had been like that – a death, not handled quite right, a rotting away of things all around it in public view. She had received a great deal of compassion, like fresh air passing through the scene... but it was still necessary to take out the garbage and bury the dead, and it was overdue to be done.