Power in the Blood

“Listen, you little prick, consider yourself under investigation. If you refuse to cooperate, I can have you suspended or worse, so don’t fuck with me.”

“I have no intention of doing so,” I said, continuing to walk.

“What’s your problem? We are supposed to be working together.”

“That’s right. We are, and you deliberately brought up the chapel incident without talking with me first.”

“No, I didn’t. But this is not a game, boy. If you’re holding back, you better come clean before you take the fall for someone else. And, if you’re guilty, I will find out about it eventually, so you better tell me now. I’ll go easy on you,” he said with a wicked smile.

“I’ve done nothing wrong. I uncovered this in an investigation that you are supposed to be conducting. So from this point forward, I’m going to allow you to conduct it. I’m going to get out of your way.

I wouldn’t want to hold you back. I’m sure you’re about to crack this thing wide open.”

“I’ll crack your head wide open if you’re not careful. I’ll stop by to interview you later. If you want to, you can call your lawyer. But, I wouldn’t get that clown you had during the divorce. Susan’s kicked his ass,” he said. He then laughed obnoxiously and turned back toward the administration building.

The truth was I told my lawyer to let Susan have everything she wanted. I hadn’t counted on her wanting everything, but no matter. I was free.

After closing the chapel’s sanctuary doors behind me, I paced some more, but this time I prayed, too. I walked and prayed until I found peace. Then I walked back out again to finish this thing I had begun.

I was walking out of the chapel on my way to medical when I heard my phone ringing. It was the quick double rings of an outside call, so I unlocked my office door and answered it.

“Dad wanted you to know that it was murder,” Jake said when I answered.

“What?”

“Hello, is anybody there? Stay with me, okay? Russ Maddox’s preliminary autopsy results are back. He was poisoned.”

“With what?”

“I don’t know why Dad wants you to know all this. He must want you to work the faggot connection.”

“Jake, what was used?”

“Chloral hydrate,” he said not knowing what he was saying or how to say it.

“Do you have the time of death?” I asked.

“Doc says it was between twelve thirty and one thirty A.M.,” he said.

“That’s pretty accurate,” I said. “How can he be so sure?”

“Russ ate at Rudy’s that night. Doc could tell by the stomach contents.”

“And it wasn’t Rudy’s food that killed him?” I asked.

“That’s a good one,” he said, laughing a little too much “I’m going to tell Dad that one.”

“Do you know anything else?” I asked.

“No, but Dad wants to know if you think the deaths are related?”

“Yes, I do. Tell him I’ll call him tonight when I know more.”

“Listen, you better remember that you ain’t no cop, okay? Don’t screw around with this thing. Leave it up to us. Best thing you can do is to forget about all of this and concentrate on not missing your meetings,” he said patronizingly.

He always used that against me. I was the first and only Jordan to admit I was an alcoholic, which is not to say that I was the only alcoholic. It is ironic how the one that breaks out of the unhealthy cycle is viewed not only as the sick one, but the traitor as well.

“You got your bags packed for Atlanta yet?” he asked. “Think you’ll say good-bye this time?”

“Jake,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere. But I’m also not going to interfere with your relationship with Dad. I know you all are close, and I’m very glad . . . for both of you. You have no reason to feel threatened by me.”

“Threatened? By you?” He started laughing. “Drunk ass faggots who tuck their tails and run anytime there’s trouble don’t threaten me.” His breathing was heavy and his voice tight. “Oh, there’s one more thing.” He paused, taking in a breath and letting it out slowly. “Something that you and Maddox had in common.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“He had AIDS,” Jake said and started laughing again. “He’s a queer, too.”

I was stunned. I couldn’t speak. I was overcome with anger, fear, and embarrassment.

How could he know? Did she tell? Who else knows? Oh, God, please help me.

“Hey, Dickhead, are you there? Didn’t you think that was funny? Come on now, you know all you boys wearing your collars backwards are either fags or child molesters. Which are you? Y’all all going to die of AIDS sooner or later.”

I hung up the phone. Actually, I slammed it down and began to cry.

I walked back into the chapel, fell on my knees at the altar, and began to pray again.

Chapter 31

As I approached the medical building, I could see Julie Anderson out front smoking again. It seemed at times that was all she did. She perked up when she saw me coming.

“Hey, Chaplain, come here,” she said. Her voice changed, and she began to whisper, which was roughly the volume most people use in ordinary conversation. “I really felt bad yesterday because of our log book not having Thomas and all. Anyway, I called the sarge at the center gate to see if he could remember who went through on their way to medical that night, and guess what, he did. He said that Thomas didn’t come through the gate but that he did go to medical that night-just from the other side of the compound.”

“Did he remember anyone else going in or out?”

“Yeah, he did. I didn’t ask him or anything, but he said that later, after my shift was over, he let another inmate through the gate to go to medical, but that he came back in just a few minutes and said he couldn’t find anybody in medical, and, anyway, he didn’t want to be charged the three dollars.”

Because of all of the abuse of the medical facilities by inmates who just want to get out of the sun or see a pretty nurse, the department had instituted a policy that made inmates pay three dollars to the department if they declared a medical emergency and they really didn’t have one.

“Did he say who it was?” I asked.

“He couldn’t remember,” she said.

“Thank you. I sure appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. I’m just sorry somebody was so careless. You going to say anything to anybody about it?”

“No, don’t worry. I’d like to talk with Nurse Strickland though. What time does she come in tonight?”

“You’re in luck. We’re both pulling a double. So, she’s here today.”

“You’ve both been doing a lot of that lately,” I said and began to walk into the medical building. “Thanks again for all your help.”

“You’re welcome, and thank you for not making a big deal about the mistake,” she said and turned to take one last draw from her cigarette.

I walked through the waiting room, where twenty-five inmates were staring at the wall in front of them in silence. A few of them whispered greetings to me. A couple asked to see me later in the day. I entered the door on the left, which led to the exam rooms and the infirmary.

Strickland was not in any of the exam rooms, nor the nurses’ station, nor the infirmary, but standing outside of the infirmary, I heard her. She was seated in the break room at the end of the hall talking with someone I couldn’t see. As I approached, she glanced my way and then quietly said something to the person she was with. I couldn’t hear what she said, but then that was the point. When I reached the door, inmate Jones walked through it. He didn’t speak, but his body language was loud enough.

“Hello, Chaplain,” she said. “How’s it going?”

“Fine. How are you doing?”