Get Well Delilah
The flames and smoke spiraling upward from the burning mansion sent a dismal message to onlookers as well as those who once occupied the dwelling. To others it meant euphoria, a happy ending to a well-laid plan.
Ray ‘Dog’ Bones felt good, the best he had felt since Viet Nam. His sight in the rear view mirror showcasing the flames and smoke put him once again in the war zone of mission accomplished. Shaking with the thrill of victory, he finally spoke with ecstasy to the occupant sitting on the passenger side when he removed his ski mask saying, “Mission accomplished boss, we got them!”
Arrogance once again emitted from the voice of The Judge as he spoke from lips with a sneer, “Hell yeah. The S.O.B. threatened to kill me if I did not leave my home. Who the hell do he think he is? I don’t care if he is connected with organized crime; I’ve got my own crime organization, the baddest mothers on the planet, the Eastside Punishers. We didn’t get that name by being pussycats, if he wants to move me out of my home, I’ve made my mind up, he will have to take me out, literally.”
“Go ahead General, I am with you all the way,” Ray ‘Dog’ Bones spoke exuberantly.
The Ford sedan was rocking from side to side from the excited driver when they exited on I-10, John C. Lodge, gunning the engine headed for the East Side to celebrate victory listening to music that spurred them on, ‘Ain’t no stopping us now’. They were on the move as the record coaxed them on when Ray ‘Dog’ Bones let out a howl wanting to get it on again.
Outside the mansion on Boston Blvd, police, fire and EMS sirens advancing on the scene drowned the snap, crackle and pop of burning timbers. The police cars and fire engines were jockeying for position giving way to the EMS truck as medical attendants jumped out carrying their bags and stretcher.
The beautiful glass stained door was opened by Early who stood with his Benelli shotgun folded across his arms admitted police and EMS attendants inside. The police eyed Early suspiciously concentrating on the shotgun before asking who was the owner of the house.
Travis cradling the unconscious Delilah was hesitant to release her when the attendant tried to administer aid. A gruff police voice, which Travis had become accustomed to over the years, barked, “Hey you, let the medical professionals do their job, step away!”
Standing, saying nothing for there were no need for words, his heart hurting for Delilah and hate in his eyes for the cigar smoking cop was enough for he knew as well as those who looked on that he was inches away from death. Bates, hard and cold as he was understood the message that Travis’ eyes delivered, immediately clamped his mouth and left the scene. For the first time in his life Sergeant Bates knew fear a new experience shocking and beyond his scope of reasoning. The Jigger Boo had not put his hands on him nor said a word, but his presence this time made him shiver. Why, Why, he had to repeatedly ask himself? He was the same neighborhood Jigger Boo he had taunted for years, but something had happened to him. He was no longer that street punk loose and wild. He exuded confidence and authority that demanded respect from whomever or whatever. You get the feeling to do otherwise would be a disastrous mistake, as he had done.
Hell, I am the police and this is just another Spook from the hood, why should I be afraid, yet I am. There was only one decision and that is to stay, as far away from this Nigger, no, the wrong word, this man as much as possible because he got the feeling shit was going to happen to his ass if he didn’t. He did not have to be told, hell, he felt the urgent need to leave this Nigger, no wrong word again, man alone.
The EMS attendants were loading Delilah in the vehicle when Travis and Sergeant Bates eyes met once again letting each know that confrontation would ensue shortly.
Neighborhood sightseers were crowding the scene forcing Bates to help clear them out to let the EMS truck leave and the firemen finish putting out the fire.
Travis, Early, Bobby and Ian were hurt whey they saw the EMS truck leave for Henry Ford Hospital. It was ironic that Ian’s father was already there and he asked to accompany Travis as all four loaded into Travis’s Roadrunner catching up with the EMS truck as it followed the same trail of The Judge and Ray ‘Dog’ Bones to I-10 exiting on West Grand Blvd service entrance to Henry Ford Hospital.
The occupants spoke no words but streetlights showed solemn faces knowing that someone was going to pay for what happened to Delilah.
Sergeant Bates was still shaken when the last cinder was extinguished and crews were leaving the scene, neighbors looking like zombies departing to their homes.
Bates looked at the stately mansion and wondered how a young black man of maybe 24 or 25 had come into such a fortune. A year ago when he was about to kick his ass he was just a street punk. Something extraordinary had happened to make such dramatic improvements in his life, not to mention the street punk who was now every bit of a man, and a powerful one at that.
He would have to steer clear of Travis until he found out who or what he had become. Even though he was a cop, he understood one thing; he was still human and could have a cap busted in his ass just like everyone else. This badge is no shield; just identification and it would not protect him from a bullet.
He found his partner and left for the precinct in thought after the mansion had been secured.
Henry Ford Hospital had that clean hospital smell that was clinically disagreeable with Travis. The attendant finally approached Travis with Delilah’s condition. She had multiple fractures, a head concussion and severe blood loss but would be okay in time with proper medical treatment and rest.
Travis emitted a sigh of relief as life came back into his eyes further spurred to activity when the attendant said; “You may see her by following the clerk to the intensive care unit.”
“Thank you.”
The clerk escorted Travis to her area of treatment opening the curtain feeling ill at heart viewing the tubes running out of his baby’s body. Delilah tried to smile when she saw him but pain was too great to sustain it.
Travis wanted to grab and hold her but could not in her condition but spoke consolingly and lovingly to her.
“How is my sweet love, my sweet baby?”
“I’m fine. You know I’m lying but it is a matter of truth to see you darling. Any time I see you I am fine.”
“Baby, I promise that whomever did this is going to pay.”
“Now Travis, as much as I want you too, do nothing rash without thinking it through. You are all I got, no family but you.”
Delilah even in her weakened state was as beautiful as could be. Her puffy face, split lip and singed hair did little to detract from her glorious appearance, not even the tear that rolled down the corner of her left eye.
The attending doctor came inside the cubicle encouraged Travis that he would have to cut his visit short because medication would have to be administered with further tests taken.
“About how long will she be in here doctor?”
“That depends on what you mean by here. If you are referring to intensive care, another 5 hours and she will be taken to a room, but if you are referring to being a patient here another three weeks. Even when she is released she will need the care of a live in nurse to administer her care.”
“Doc, please keep me informed on her progress. I’d like her put in a private room with a private security guard at the entrance. I will pay for this additional feature.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” the doctor said as he made his way administering aid to Delilah. “Now, please excuse me, I have doctoring to do,” as he began closing the curtain to attend Delilah’s needs.
Saddened but feeling much better that Delilah would be fine, he exited to the lobby to find the three friends waiting, wanting to know how Delilah was.
“She’ll be fine in time. Thanks for being here for me. I love you my brothers and let us keep positive for all will work out for our welfare.”
“That is so good to hear for my father is coming alone fine. I told him to expect visitors but not for what reason. I wanted him to tell me what they said when they came and the names of them.”
“What are you talking about Ian?” all asked.
“I’m sorry, it has been so busy and hectic I never mentioned why my father is in this hospital. Bobby and Early you know of the incident last years with Joe Arnold at Blake’s Pool Parlor. Well he made good on his threat by beating my father, him and his hommies.”
Early mad as hell spoke up, “I knew I should have finished that Mother… off. Shit, I’m going to make a trip there and finish him with my shotgun so there won’t be another time with his trifling ass.”
“Hold on Early, I know you mean well, but I am handling this as we speak. I will let you know if I need you when the time is right.”
“I hope you need me because I’ve been itching to bust a cap in his ass.”
“I’ve changed strategies of handling sensitive situations using ingenuity instead of direct violence. I am appalled the police department not even mentioning looking for the persons responsible for harming my father. I filled out a report but have not heard anything from them. It seems this is another statistic of Black vs. Black and no need to pursue any investigation. The mental attitude by authority is let them kill themselves saving us the trouble. To make it so bad, the one handling the case is a Black man at that. He did not seem to take any personal interest of what had happened to another black man, shrugging his shoulder and leaving it alone.”
Travis finally spoke as he assessed the situation. “Black brother against brother no matter what station in life. The same cop will hee-haw with the ones on the precinct, white and black, while looking down on his brothers in the hood, even shunning them until he has the chance to use his gun on one of us.”
“Not only that,” Early chipped in, “You know about the elderly lady in her 80’s who fell out of her wheel chair calling 911. It took the police about three hours to respond and by the time they arrived she had gone into a coma because she had not taken her medicine. It is case and point that they don’t respond quickly enough in Black neighborhoods and sometimes not at all unless there is a killing.”
“It has become an issue now of The Courts vs. The Streets. The courts only respond after a crime has been committed and not prevention of one. The street code of law is that you have to defend yourself or wind up dead. It ain’t good but we get no protection from the police and you ain’t gonna stand by and be killed,” Bobby said remembering how it was when he was living on the streets.
“You all have the truth,” Ian said. “My fight since Viet Nam is to establish a principle of justice without use of the gun. It should be used as a last resort, a deterrent from a crime rather than an instrument for a crime and not the only means to a solution.”
Travis with things on his mind cut in, “Ian, you keep working on getting us to this point, in the meantime I have to even the battlefield by any means necessary. If I have to use violence, then violence it is. I will not go seeking it as some, but will not back down when it comes.”
“To each his own. I am going into law and will use every remedy to make it better for all putting the Black man as top priority.”
“That is admirable Ian, I wish we had more like you with that kind of commitment on principle, I could live a life of peace and contentment. Whatever you need to attain your goals, I am here for you and got your back my good brother,” Travis spoke with conviction.
Sergeant Bates took a trip down to 1300 Beaubien to check any recent files that may relate to Travis hoping to get an idea of what happened that made changes in his life. The mainframe computer was slow with the ticker tape of any readout concerning him so he resorted to looking at mug shots of known felons hoping he might get lucky. After an hour with no results, he considered Travis clean but did not satisfy his curiosity. Where did he get enough money to buy a mansion of Boston Blvd with upper white class people? There were only three other blacks on the block besides him and they were a prominent governmental official from the city of Detroit, A business owner and lawyer. The value of the property on the low end was worth over $100,000 where the average good property was around $280,000. Checking the deed on Travis’ home showed it was paid for free and clear with no back taxes. How in hell could a Jigger Boo get that kind of money within a short time at his age without something criminal? He would check to see if any robberies had taken place anywhere recently and if there was, he would have him as a suspect.
All proved negative but he would keep an eye on his activities only at a distance for he wanted no trouble out of him for he sensed somehow he was dangerous.
Travis bid his ‘hommies’ farewell and headed for his home that looked cold and wrecked in the early morning. The scent of burnt wood assailed his nostrils when he pulled into the circular driveway noticing the rutted grass damaged by the fire crew chasing the fire. Delilah was not here to welcome him with her warmth making it hard to focus on what must be done.
He called his insurance company reporting the damage that promised to send someone out as soon as possible. He would take a shower and retire in the west wing that was not damaged preparing himself for the work ahead. He had three things to do, contact Mr. Bartonelli that Dumbarto had not responded by putting the $2,000,000 in his account, seek out the ones he promised retribution of noncompliance and track down those who are responsible for Delilah’s injuries.
He said a prayer for Delilah to get well knowing when the time was right those he sought would never get well.
