Echoes of a Distant Summer (3 page)

Sampson sat for nearly two hours in his chair mulling over questions that only God and the fates could answer before the phone rang. He picked it up and was informed that three men were coming up to see him. No one else but King’s men and the people at Tree’s knew he was here, and King’s men wouldn’t visit him now. He returned the phone to its cradle and smiled. He opened the vial and put all three pills in his mouth. He picked up the glass of water and waited to hear footsteps outside his door. What did it matter that these three men would accompany him? Fate was a strange and twisted thing; there was no logic to it, no system by which it could be understood.

He heard the sound of broken glass being crunched outside his door and simultaneously drank his water and pushed the button on the remote.
I’m coming, Wichita. I’m coming
.

T
here are ominous events that occur in the sea of life, that rise above all other activities and happenings like a shark’s fin above the liquid surface of a rolling wave. And so it was for Jackson Tremain when he received a call from his grandmother informing him of the death of Sampson Davis. After the call he attempted to concentrate on his daily duties, keeping a measured stroke, swimming through the passing minutes, but the meaning and importance of the call began to circle in a tightening spiral around his consciousness. He could ill afford such diversions. He had the tasks and responsibilities of a deputy city manager. Other areas that needed his full attention. He had fallen increasingly out of favor with the city manager, not for quantity nor quality of work but for things far more serious, differences in philosophy and style. Thus he had other predators in sight, ones that ate more than simple flesh.

Perhaps his response to the call might have been different if his whole morning had not begun in an unpleasant manner. Jackson had just arrived in his office when the phone began to ring. He glanced at his watch. It was seven-thirty. He put down his coffee and his cinnamon roll and picked up the receiver. The mayor’s voice came bawling out in a blistering tirade. As a deputy city manager, Jackson had listened quietly to many such tirades; it was part of his job. He held the telephone between chin and shoulder and continued to drink his coffee, eat his cinnamon roll, and take notes all while being absolutely attentive.

The mayor’s angry voice growled into the phone, “We need a Community Police Review Commission resolution to adopt during tonight’s city council meeting concerning this matter. Goddamn it, this is an election year!”

Jackson listened quietly while Mayor Garrison Broadnax ranted on through the telephone receiver. He recognized that the mayor had every reason to be upset. The night before, two white police officers wearing masks while on duty in a patrol car had cruised the Chinese district of the city shouting words like
gook, Chink
, and
slope
to people on the street. The two patrolmen pulled a Chinese businessman from his truck and beat him after he cursed them for calling him racial epithets. They opened a five-inch gash in his forehead, locked him out of his truck, and left him lying in the street. They did not report the incident to police dispatch, but several scores of witnesses did. Jackson had received a call concerning the matter from one of his connections in the police department before he had come in to work that morning.

“What do you have to tell me, Tremain?” the mayor barked.

Jackson replied, “I may not have all the information. But as far as I know, the two officers in question have been placed on administrative leave pending an investigation into the allegations. It’s only fair to say that they are denying everything and claiming that the Police Officer’s Bill of Rights has been violated by putting them on administrative leave. They have requested a closed hearing in front of the Civil Service Commission to challenge any disciplinary action that may be forthcoming.”

“I don’t give a damn what those assholes say,” growled the mayor. “The Civil Service Commission will deny any claims they have.”

“I hate to remind you, Mr. Mayor, but you haven’t had a quorum on the commission in three months. Only five of the nine seats are filled. You still need to appoint four commissioners.”

“Damn!” the mayor exclaimed, and then there were several seconds of silence. “All right, I’ll appoint at least two Asians; that’ll fix their butts! What’s the ethnic breakdown of the commission now?”

“Let me check the file.” Jackson got up and went over to his filing cabinet, pulled a manila folder, and returned to his desk. “Two blacks, two whites, and a Hispanic.”

“Hmmm, I need to give the Hispanic community another appointment and I’ve got to give that white woman from the Oakland Hills area something too.… All right! All right! I’ll announce the commission appointments tonight at the council meeting. I want that Police Review Commission resolution you’re preparing on my desk by three-thirty this afternoon!”

Jackson exhaled slowly, gathered his thoughts, then spoke calmly into the phone, “Mr. Mayor, the city manager has assigned me the responsibility of preparing the agenda for the executive session for this afternoon at four. I can’t possibly poll all the council members for their agenda items, prepare the revisions, if any, to the executive session agenda, attend the executive session, and prepare this resolution.”

“Listen, Tremain, Bedrosian didn’t want to hire you. As the first black mayor of this city, I pressed him into hiring you. He was going to hire that white girl who had come here as an administrative intern three years ago over you even though you had three times her experience.

“And one of the important reasons I supported your appointment was that I wanted to be sure I could get at least some of the inside information on the legislation that he prepares for council. You know he was here before me and he thinks he’s going to be here after me. But he doesn’t know me. I’ve been dealing with white boys like him all my life. I’m going to get this boy treed, then I’ll be looking forward to seeing the back of him!”

“That’s pretty strong, Mr. Mayor,” Jackson chided, thinking he couldn’t risk being openly disloyal to his immediate supervisor. After all, the mayor was a politician and everything was salable if the right issue arose. “I mean, some of your electorate is white.”

“You know what I mean and don’t waste my time with naive remarks. There’s people who happen to be white and there’s white people. Now get me my goddamned resolution before three-thirty! Remember who helped you get where you are.”

“I understand, Mr. Mayor,” Jackson replied with resignation. The mayor played this card whenever Jackson showed any reluctance to perform some extra chore for him, and whenever he played it, Jackson responded appropriately. He assured the mayor, “The resolution will be on your desk by three-thirty.” No reason to make an enemy of his principal advocate.

“Jackson, my boy, I knew you’d find the time for something like this.” The mayor’s voice now took on a honeyed tone. “I knew you came in early to work, that’s why I called before eight. This resolution doesn’t have to be a three-page monster with twenty
whereas
es either. Just something simple and to the point.”

Knowing the answer, Jackson asked, “Shall I inform the city manager of this item at today’s agenda luncheon?”

“Don’t tell that fool Bedrosian a damn thing! All he’ll do is find some pretext to delay. You know he’s in bed with the police department on this matter. He and Chief Walker would love to see me defeated in this next election. Once I approve the resolution, I want you to send it directly over to the city clerk’s office. She’ll be waiting for it.”

“You realize when you direct me to do something like this, it appears to my boss, Bedrosian, that I’m not following the chain of command. He’ll know that I prepared this resolution, because I’ll have to go to the agenda secretary for a number.”

“As long as I’m here, you don’t have to worry about him. Get it to the city clerk, I’ll get her to get a number, okay?”

“Whatever you say, Mr. Mayor,” Jackson replied, shaking his head. Bedrosian would still know that he prepared the resolution. As a result, Jackson knew that another confrontation with the city manager loomed. At least he had a job until the next election.

After he got off the phone with the mayor, Jackson called his administrative analyst into his office for a quick closed-door session. Corazon Benin was a short, good-looking woman in her mid-thirties who wore her lush, dark hair rolled into an attractive bun.

“What’s up, boss?” she asked as she sat down with a yellow tablet and a pen.

“The mayor wants something and I can’t report it at the agenda luncheon.”

She laughed. “Again? He certainly doesn’t mind putting you on the spot. What is it this time?”

“He wants a resolution for a Police Review Commission prepared for adoption by tonight.”

Before Corazon could respond, the phone on Jackson’s desk jangled loudly. It was the switchboard line. He complained, “What is this? I told the secretaries to hold calls before eight-thirty!”

“I’ll go see,” Corazon volunteered as she stood up and went out the door. The phone continued to ring and was still ringing when Corazon reappeared.

“Carol says it’s your grandmother and she says it’s urgent.”

“What the hell can she want?”

“You told me she was dead,” Corazon observed. “So it must be pretty important for her to call from the grave.”

“She
is
dead, been dead for years, she just hasn’t realized it,” Jackson answered. “Why don’t you let me take this call, and while I’m on it,
would you make a copy of the resolutions that were recently adopted for the Parks Commission and the Civil Service Commission? Maybe we can lift some of the language right off of those two.” Corazon nodded and left the office.

Jackson took a deep breath, picked up the phone, and said, “Good morning, city manager’s office.”

“Jackson, is that you?” A raspy, impatient tone.

“May I help you?” he asked, refusing to recognize the voice.

“This is your grandmother!” The voice was now imperious.

“What a surprise,” Jackson replied without enthusiasm. “I’m sure that we could find something to talk about if we really searched ourselves, but frankly, I’m extremely busy right now.”

“There is no need for rudeness! I shall overlook it this time for I have important news.”

Jackson smirked. “You have important news? I’m sorry, but I really am busy. Perhaps we can talk when I’m not so harried.”

“I said this was important!” The tone was now emphatic.

“To whom? You certainly don’t have anything important to say to me. Now, I’d like to hang up. Can we agree to end this call?”

“Did you read this morning’s paper? Sampson Davis, along with three other men, was killed two nights ago by a bomb in one of those south-of-Market fleabag hotels!”

“No, Grandmother. I don’t have time to skim the paper for sensational news.”

“Sampson Davis was one of your grandfather’s closest and oldest friends. He hasn’t been to the Bay Area since your grandfather went to Mexico, and he wouldn’t come here unless your grandfather sent him.”

“So?”

“This is your grandfather sending some kind of a message. Something is wrong! We need to know what’s going on. He may be dying.”

“So? I’m surprised it’s a matter of concern to you.”

“You and Franklin must go down and see him before he dies. I’m sure he wants to see you.”

“He spoke to you? He asked to see Franklin?”

“No, but his lawyers called me from Mexico a couple of weeks ago about some real estate documents. That, combined with this piece of news, makes me think he’s trying to get his things in order. I think it’s a good idea if you and Franklin go down and check things out, to represent the family’s interest.”

“Send Franklin. I’m not flying down to Mexico City to see my grandfather, even if he is dying. Good-bye, Grandmother. Talk to you in another ten years. It has been ten years, hasn’t it, since we last talked?”

“This is no time to go over our differences! Your grandfather may be dying, but he still has enemies. You need to talk to him. All our lives may hang in the balance.”

“Thanks for the melodrama, Grandmother. If you’re really that worried, send Franklin. He’s your boy. You and I have nothing further to say. Good-bye!” Jackson did not wait for her response, but set the receiver down on its cradle.

The rest of the day was a kaleidoscope of actions and images. Jackson gobbled a cold meatloaf sandwich during the city manager’s agenda luncheon and along with the other deputies gave a basic status report of his agenda item assignments and reports. He made no mention of his task for the mayor. Thanks to Corazon, he delivered the requested resolution by three-thirty and had the executive session agenda duplicated and ready by four. The executive session was hot and feisty, as the police chief had to appear to explain to the council members what actions his department had taken as a result of the investigation into the previous day’s incident in the Chinese community.