Gunny stepped out into the street, now packed with people.
“Why are you taking Jed?” someone in the crowd hollered.
“Where’s Marvin?”
The cops ignored the crowd and shoved Jed into the back of the police wagon. Men and women were forced to disperse as the wagon eased through the crowd.
“What’s going on?” someone shouted. All eyes turned to Gunny.
Gunny cleared his throat. “As you can all see, someone destroyed Marvin Halliday’s club,” he announced. He took a deep breath. “Jeffrey Wright has been shot. That’s what Jed has been arrested for.”
“No!” a man hollered.
“They think Jed did it? He loved Jeffrey like he was his own brother!” a woman near Gunny declared.
The man Gunny had spoken to at the construction site earlier pushed forward. “You know who did this! Chubby Malloy! He doesn’t want anything to compete with his Paradise.”
Another clear voice rang out. “I heard Chubby threaten Marvin!”
The crowd parted and Gunny saw that Ambrose Jackson was the speaker. He stepped forward, his slick suit contrasting with the shabbier clothes of the neighborhood folk.
“I heard Chubby swear that no new club would open up in Harlem while he was around,” Ambrose said.
The mutters and murmurs turned into a rumble, then a roar. “Let’s go get Chubby!”
This was quickly turning into a mob scene. And mobs were always dangerous.
Gunny had to stop this. He knew it was possible that all this had happened on Chubby’s orders. But violence wasn’t the solution.
“Stop!” he shouted. Even at the top of his lungs, no one could hear him.
Glancing around, he grabbed a garbage can. Luckily, it was empty. He flipped it over and clambered on top of it. “Stop! Now!” he hollered.
He knew he looked like a crazy person, shouting and flailing his arms from the top of a garbage can, but he didn’t care. If it helped stop this tide of fury, then so be it.
“Stop! I mean it!”
The shouts and rumbles died down and the men and women stared at Gunny.
“We can’t meet violence with violence,” Gunny declared. “We may believe Chubby was behind this, but we don’t know for sure. We’re acting just like those cops who took Jed away. We have nothing but what they call ‘circumstantial evidence.’ Besides,” he added, pausing so he could meet the eyes of as many people as he could, “I know for a fact that Chubby has been good to a lot of you. He employs folks right here in this crowd, and he’s Jed’s boss.”
He let those words sink in. Several people gazed shamefacedly down at the ground, others shoved their hands in their pockets and shifted their weight from side to side or whispered to one another.
“Our first thoughts have to go out to Mrs. Wright and her children,” Gunny told them. “She’s going to need us, and we can’t help her and her family if we’re all locked up for rioting.”
That settled them down once and for all. Gunny spotted in the crowd a plump, older woman everyone called “Cousin Mary.” “Cousin Mary. Can you and a few of the women go to Mrs. Wright? She shouldn’t be alone when she gets the news.”
“Of course, Gunny,” Cousin Mary said.
The crowd dispersed and Gunny climbed back down from the garbage can. He mopped his brow with shaking hands. He had no idea he’d been so nervous.
At least I can tell Jed he has the full support of the neighborhood, Gunny thought as he headed for the police station.
It was a chaotic scene inside the station, and he had to shout to make himself heard by the desk sergeant. When he asked for Jed, the thick-necked officer grunted and aimed a stubby thumb toward a set of doors. “Still in holding,” the officer said.
A skinny red-haired man stood in Jed’s cell cradling a sheaf of papers. “It isn’t looking good, Mr. Sweeney,” he was saying as Gunny walked up to the cell. “Perhaps you should consider a plea.”
“Perhaps you should consider another line of work!” Gunny said angrily.
Startled, the guy lost his grip on his papers, and they flew out of his hands. He bent down to pick them up, looking disgusted that he had to touch the filthy jail-cell floor.
“I’m innocent, and I’m not going to say any different,” Jed told the man who was obviously his lawyer.
“You got that right,” Gunny agreed.
The man stood and faced Gunny. Gunny took in the bright blue eyes behind skinny glasses, the acne-pocked skin, and the unruly red hair. “Are you old enough to be an attorney?” Gunny asked.
Jed laughed, and the man flushed deep scarlet, almost as red as his hair. “This may be my first case, but that doesn’t mean—”
“We’re getting you a new lawyer,” Gunny told Jed. “A grown-up one.”
“Just because I’m young—”
“Now, Gunny,” Jed said, “let’s give young Mr. Gordon a chance.”
“Have they set bail?” Gunny asked.
“They set it very high,” the lawyer admitted. “Mr. Sweeney had motive, and they did find him with the murder weapon. And without any witnesses…”
“What about other suspects?” Gunny demanded.
“I’m sure the police are investigating every lead,” Mr. Gordon said.
“Really?” Gunny scoffed. “Why should they when you’re already offering Jed to them on a platter with this plea agreement.”
Mr. Gordon had nothing to say to that. He straightened to his full height—which seemed even taller because he was so skinny—spun around, and left the cell.
Gunny looked at Jed. Although he was around ten years older than Gunny, Gunny had never noticed Jed’s age. Until now. Here in the jail cell, his seventy-odd years seemed etched in the lines of Jed’s dark face. His white hair added to the impression of an elderly man.
“How’s the Wright family?” Jed asked.
“Cousin Mary went to sit with them,” Gunny said. “And the whole neighborhood believes you’re innocent. Things got kind of crazy after the cops hauled you away.”
“What do you mean?”
“People were fired up—wanted to go smash up the Paradise. It nearly turned into a riot.”
Jed let out a low whistle. “Not good.”
“I managed to quiet things down before they really got out of hand,” Gunny said.
“Did you, now?” Jed looked at Gunny thoughtfully. “I’ve always known you were a born leader.”
Gunny laughed. “Maybe you knew. It was news to me today!”
Jed twisted his ring. He’d worn that ring for as long as Gunny could remember.
“Listen, there’s something I need you to do,” Jed said.
“Anything,” Gunny replied.
“Keep an eye on Junior Wright. Mrs. Wright is going to have her hands full. Jeffrey watched over them during the day while she was at work. Now there’s no one to do that. Delia is a sweet kid with lots of activities that keep her out of trouble. But Junior…”
“I don’t know how to take care of a teenage boy!” Gunny protested. “What am I supposed to do?”
“Learn quickly,” Jed said.