Fleck stood over me and stared down, waiting for me to give up the preferred seat.
It was crazy. All of it. I never did anything like that when involved with the intricate dance necessary to keep out of trouble with the law. I rarely spoke around white men with authority. I never willingly said anything intelligent. And to go so far as to tease a cop—that wasn’t even me.
But there I was, sitting back in the head man’s chair with Captain Fleck staring death down on my head.
“Sit down, Lee,” the tall white man said.
For a moment Fleck remained motionless.
“Lee.”
He faltered and I smiled. If we were alone he would have drawn his pistol, I’m sure. But all he could do was obey his master’s call. It’s no wonder I always order sweet and sour when I go to a Chinese restaurant. You can’t enjoy the pleasures of one without at least the presence of the other.
When we were all seated and comfortable the tall white man said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Rawlins. My name is Jordan, Gerald Jordan.”
“You’re the deputy chief,” I said, remembering at last, “the one in charge of the curfew.”
“That’s right. But the curfew has been lifted. Everybody can go where they want when they want as long as they obey the law.”
Deputy Commissioner Jordan was a terror on the TV. He called the rioters thugs and criminals who had no respect for property and no reason to riot other than their own immoral desires to loot and destroy. Jordan’s inflammatory words had probably caused the violence to last a day longer than it would have. On television he always wore a black dress uniform with medals across the left breast. That’s why I hadn’t recognized him in the makeshift morgue.
“Well, Deputy Commissioner, what is it you want from me?”
“I’m not here, Mr. Rawlins,” he said.
“No? Am I here?”
“Not with me. As far as any records are concerned, we had you come down to identify Nola Payne. You failed to do so and were taken home.”
“And who brought me here?”
“Detective Suggs brought you, and Captain Fleck debriefed you.”
“I see.”
Jordan smiled. I liked him. I liked him the way a slave learns to love his master or a prisoner develops an affinity with his warden. Gerald Jordan was the white man in charge. He was the closest I had ever come to the source of our problems. I wondered if I killed him right then, would the problems of my people become that much lighter? Of course the idea was ridiculous. Realizing the impotence of my fantasy, I laughed.
“Something funny, Mr. Rawlins?” Jordan asked.
“Not you, sir.”
“Let’s get down to business, shall we?”
“It’s your show.”
“Lee?” Jordan said.
The bald captain cleared his throat.
“Nola Payne was found by her aunt in the living room of her third-floor apartment on Grape Street earlier today,” the sour captain reported.
“Not to me, Lee,” the deputy commissioner said. “Mr. Rawlins is the one who will need this information.”
Fleck would have much rather spit in my face but he controlled himself. He did a quarter turn in the visitor’s chair and fixed his gaze on my forehead.
“She was strangled to death and then shot —”
“Was she raped?” I asked.
“She had intercourse within six hours of her death. It might have been rape but there are no bruises, cuts, or tears to back that up.”
He twitched his mustache as if to ask, Anything else?
I shook my head.
“Miss Landry,” he continued, “that’s Miss Payne’s aunt, called the police immediately but it took a while for anyone to come because of the problems in that area. When the patrolmen finally arrived they found Miss Landry in a hysterical state. She was screaming that a white man had murdered her niece. No matter how much they tried to calm her she kept shouting that a white man had raped and killed her niece. The officers took her into custody because they were afraid her ranting would incite another riot.”
“So they arrested her?” I asked.
“No, Mr. Rawlins,” Gerald Jordan said. “She was distraught. The officers were directed to bring Miss Landry here, where the doctors could sedate her, ease her pain.”
Whenever Jordan smiled I wanted to slap his skinny face. The riots were still going on in my chest.
“You drugged her?”
