A Case of Black and White

A Case of Back and White

         Spam held the 0.45 cal. handgun to his head. The barrel pressed against his temple and he could feel the roundness of the thing. In the stillness of the moment he could hear the creaking of the old building that contained his one room office. When he closed his eyes the smell of the Hoppes No. 9 gun oil teased his senses. He became amazingly aware of the measurement of time, how dramatically things can change in an instant. All he had to do was pull the trigger and everything would change forever.

         “But only for me,” he thought. “Nothing would change for everyone else.”

         He figured it just wouldn’t make a difference; it would be work as usual tomorrow. It would be of little concern to the rest of the world whether or not he pulled the trigger. So, he didn’t. He knew he wouldn’t do it the moment he began the little exercise. This wasn’t the first time he played this little game with his handgun. Fortunately, he didn’t play it very often. Something down deep inside of him told him to not push it; maybe one time he wouldn’t pull away from the edge. That thought scared him. Hell, it scared him that he would even play the game at all.

         Spam laid the handgun down on the desk next to his cup of coffee. He picked up the coffee cup and felt the sensation of warmth from the liquid inside it; he smelled the aroma of the freshly brewed coffee, which replaced the Hoppes No. 9. This moment felt good, felt right. Nevertheless, he was keenly aware that something was missing in his life, and Spam wasn’t sure of how to find it, which was a little ironical, since he was a damn good P.I. It was his job to find stuff; and he was good at it. He closed his eyes, as he sipped the hot coffee, thinking of how different this moment was than the one that could have been just an instant ago.

         The stillness was interrupted by the sudden racket of his door opening and Cassidy, his girl Friday, bustling in.

          “Good morning, Spam.” Cassidy cheerfully greeted. “I’ve got some jelly donuts here for you. They’re fresh off the baking dish.”

          “Mornin’, Doll,” Spam greeted.

         Spam couldn’t help it; a smile crept across his face as Cassidy sat the box of donuts on his desk. He figured this was a perfect combination, Cassidy and a box of donuts. She had a way of pulling him out of the deepest, darkest funk, and she did it effortlessly, just by being herself.

          “Spam,” Cassidy urged as she hung her coat on the coat rack, “I want you to meet someone.”

         She didn’t wait for his response. She turned and walked to the doorway, which was still open to the hall. She ducked out of the office into the hallway. Spam could hear her muffled talking as she coaxed someone in the hallway. He curiously watched the doorway as she ushered a black man in a tattered trench coat through the door in front of her.

          “Spam, this is Samuel.” Cassidy introduced, as she turned to Samuel and continued, “Samuel, this is my boss, Spam Hummer. Spam is the man who is going to help you.”

         Spam studied the man standing in front of him. He appeared to be pushing middle age. The premature creases in his face and the stubble of a beard were testimony to a difficult life. It was apparent this man was accustomed to primitive conditions. As the black man removed his coat, Spam saw a tattoo on his forearm of a bayonet and chevron. He’d seen others like it worn by veterans of the War. Samuel noticed Spam looking at the tattoo and shrugged, cognizant of Spam’s forming first impression.

          “You fight in Europe?” Spam asked, nodding at the tattoo.

          “Yes, sir.” Samuel acknowledged. “I fought across Italy with the 92nd Infantry Division.”

          “Good outfit--what brings you to town, Samuel?” Spam asked, then continued before Samuel could answer. “I’m assuming you don’t live here.”

          “No, sir, I don’t live here.” Samuel confirmed. “My roots are in Selma, Alabama. I’ve been halfway around the world and through a war on my way to get to where I stand today. I’m here because Miss. Cassidy said you’re a good man and could maybe help me.”

         Spam shrugged. “Cassidy’s a little optimistic. She thinks I can help everybody. Besides, she has a habit of picking up strays who need help but can’t pay the bills.” Spam narrowed his focus on Samuel and asked, “Is that what you are, Samuel—a stray?”

          “I see how you could think that, Mr. Spam.” Samuel slowly drawled, as if he was morphing into the southern boy from Alabama he once was, “seeing that I’m a little rough around the edges. But, being in the line of business you are in, you ought to know things aren’t always as they appear. Me, I look like a bum. But, I ain’t no bum. Oh, I may be without means right now, but give me a little time and I’ll have a new look. I’ll be just as respectable as the next man—at least the next black man. Jest don’t judge me by that tattered old coat, this here tattoo, and the color of my skin.”

          “Fair enough,” Spam conceded. He was beginning to like this man. “Tell me, just what it is Cassidy has promised I would do.”

          “Samuel’s looking for his family, Spam.” Cassidy interjected. “I told him, if they’re in this town, you could find them.”

         Spam nodded at Cassidy’s explanation. “Let Samuel tell me, Cass.” Spam focused on Samuel and continued, “It’s a tough thing to lose a family. I’ve found that happens mostly when they’re running from something. How’d you lose your family, Samuel? Are they running from you?”

          “I supposes in a way they are, Mr. Spam.” Assuming Spam was asking for his story, Samuel continued. “It was in the Summer of ’42; I was jest a young buck back then. I didn’t have enough sense to be careful with matters of the heart. My Pappy was a sharecropper on Jethro Harris’ farm, jest outside of Selma. Pappy was good at what he did, and with the help of my older brother and me, we turned that little piece of ground into a good money-maker. Pappy was doing well and had money in the bank, enough that we soon could afford to buy our own land. Heck, I thought I couldn’t do no wrong and was too blessed to be careful.”

          “Youngsters have a way of doing that.” Spam agreed. “They think they’re invincible.”

          “Yes sir, they surely do.” Samuel continued. “The owner of the farm we was working was a white man who had a young daughter. I guess she was the prettiest thing I had ever seen. We dang near grew up together; so, it wasn’t surprising to find us together much of the time. Well, I went and fell in love with Carrie Jo. I suppose she felt the same about me.”

         Spam spoke slowly as he began to see the direction the story was taking, “A white girl and a black boy in Selma, Alabama in 1942 is a dangerous combination. A black boy could get strung up for even looking at a white girl, much less actually falling in love with one.”

          “Yes sir, they surely could.” Samuel agreed. “In fact, Carrie Jo and I were caught down by the swimming hole one hot evening. A group of boys found me holding Carrie Jo. I guess they was as surprised to see us as we were to see them. They didn’t do anything—then. But, talk got to going around town. In the South, that’s not a good thing. It got back to Carrie Jo’s Pa. That man became insane with anger. He kicked my family off of that land and threatened to kill me.”

          “What happened to Carrie Jo?” Cassidy asked. “She had to be scared to death.”

         Samuel nodded, “Yes ma’am, she was terrified. At least that was what I was told. I never talked to her again. I only saw her from a distance. It jest about tore my heart out. Black or white didn’t matter to me; all I knew was that I loved her.”

          “So, you never saw her again?” Spam asked.

          “No, Mr. Spam, I never got more than a hundred yards from her.” Samuel paused. The tears formed in his eyes and threatened to spill. He blinked them back and continued, “My Pappy said I had to leave that place. He drove me up to Montgomery and I enlisted in the Army. I walked into a war on that very day. They trained me a little, put a gun in my hand, and sent me to Italy. I fought a war in Europe while Carrie Jo fought one back home.”

          “Let me guess,” Spam interjected. “You came back from the war and found Carrie Jo gone, exiled from her family and home. You’ve been spending all the years since then trying to find her. Drifting across the country while you search.”

          “You’re a smart man, Mr. Spam.” Samuel grinned sheepishly. “That’s what I’ve been doing. I work enough to get by and move on to the next clue. It’s hard to find someone who doesn’t care to be found. The last I heard, she had moved to this town about a year ago. This is as close as I’ve ever come.”

         Cassidy brushed a tear from her cheek. “Samuel, that’s about the saddest thing I’ve ever heard. We can find her for you, if she’s in this town; can’t we Spam?”

         Spam tightened his lips and spoke softly, “I don’t know, Doll.” He searched her face and saw the plea etched there. “Sure, Cass, if she’s here we can find her.”

         Samuel added, “I’ve got no money, Mr. Spam. But, I work hard and will pay you for anything you can do. I need your help. You can open doors that a black man can’t open, at least not without money.”

          “Don’t worry about it, Samuel. We’ll work something out. Right now we’ve got work to do. Cassidy, I want you to visit Dave Frisco. See what we can get from the police. I’m going to take Samuel over to meet Jocko. I think Jocko can help with Samuel’s room and board.”

***********************

         Cassidy sat across from the Lieutenant’s desk and watched him digest the story and request she had just presented to him. She felt confident Dave Frisco could help, as he had many time before. She was well aware he and Spam were once partners. She considered they made a good team. But, that was years ago and both men had gone their separate ways. And yet, time and again they were partnered up on one case or the other Spam was working on. She chuckled to herself and confirmed that a good team never busts up. They just change. It was better now. She was Spam’s partner. Or at least she considered herself such. She thought, or at least she hoped, Spam felt the same way. In fact, her desire was for them to be more intimate partners. But, that hadn’t happened … yet.

         Lt. Frisco took a deep sigh and responded, “That’s quite a story, Cass. I suppose we can shake the bushes a little and see what falls out.”

         Dave picked up the phone receiver on his desk and punched a button. “Hello, Christie, I want you to run some records for me…..Yeah, it’s urgent. Do it now….OK, check with the Department of Motor Vehicles and see if they have an address for a Carrie Jo Harris. She’d be a recent operator. You might as well run her for warrants; you never know….No, that’s it for now; get it to me as soon as you have anything…Thanks Christie.” The cop started to hang up and then thought of another item. “Christie, wait! Listen, call over to your sources at the school district and see if they have any new students named Harris; they’ll have a listing of the parents and the home address …. Thanks, that’s all for now.”

          “My god, Dave. I never considered there were kids involved. That means she could be married and have a changed name.” Cassidy’s brow was furrowed and concern filled her voice. She considered for the first time that this could be an impossible task.

          “If someone doesn’t want to be found, Cass, the paper trail will disappear. When that happens you gotta do it the hard way, and that’s interviewing people who may have crossed her trail. To do that we will need more information, and a photo. It helps to have a photo.

          “Please,” Cassidy pled, “call Spam as soon as you hear anything.” Cassidy paused a moment and then added, “You know, Dave, this Thursday is Thanksgiving. We’re having a big meal over at Spam’s. Wouldn’t it be special if Samuel could have Thanksgiving dinner with his lost family?”

          “Yeah, Cass, that’d be nice. But, you know, Cass, these things don’t always turn out happy, even if we find an address. Carrie Jo may not want her past to catch up to her.”

          “I know, Dave,” Cassidy replied softly. “I just thought it would be nice. You know how to find us. Bye now.”

***********************

         Samuel and Spam sat at a table in the back of the tavern, visiting. Samuel had a hamburger and a stack of French fries on a plate in front of him. Spam nursed a drink, the first of two he would have this evening.

          “Mr. Spam,” Samuel continued with his visit, “In most of the places I go to in this country, especially the South, they wouldn’t let me eat this here hamburger out here amongst all these white folk. I’d have to eat in the kitchen, in the back.”

          “I know, Samuel.” Spam agreed. “The difference is that Jocko’s color blind. He don’t know you’re black. And, that old man has been around the block a few times. He doesn’t care what others may think. He doesn’t even care if some of his patrons are offended with their self-righteous attitudes about you sitting in here.”

          “I know.” Samuel nodded. “Miss. Cassidy’s that way. She sat right next to me on that bus bench. She didn’t care if I was a bum, a black one at that. She sat right down there and smiled at me. She asked me how I was doin’. Land’s sake, I don’t know when the last time was that someone asked me how I was doin’. The amazing thing is, Mr. Spam, she really cared. It wasn’t just words to Miss Cassidy. She really wanted to know how I was doin’.

         Spam smiled and added, “Yeah, that’s Cassidy. She wears her heart out in the open for everyone to see. She’s a special person, Samuel.”

         Samuel’s demeanor changed as he put his burger down and spoke softly to Spam. “Mr. Spam, this morning, when I was standing in front of your desk talking to you, I saw your 0.45 laying on the desk.”

          “Yes,” Spam responded and waited for Samuel to continue.

          “I knows what you were doin’, Mr. Spam.” Samuel spoke and paused to look directly into Spam’s eyes. “You was playing the game; wasn’t you? You was playing the game.”

         There was silence between the two men as Spam considered carefully how to respond. Eventually, he continued, “You’ve played the game; haven’t you, Samuel?”

         Samuel slowly nodded his head and stated, “Yes, sir, I’ve played it many times. And, I can tell you, Mr. Spam, it’s not a good game. From where I stand, I can tell you that you don’t need to be playin’ that game. No, sir, not with someone like Miss Cassidy in your life. You don’t need to be playing that game any more, Mr. Spam.”

          “Thank you, Samuel; I appreciate your concern.” A hint of a smile tugged at the corners of Spam’s mouth as he continued, “You may be right. Cassidy is a very special person.”

         Spam took a sip of his drink; Samuel picked up his hamburger and continued to eat. The two men sat in silence, until Spam heard the front door open and close and Cassidy’s familiar voice.

          “I’ve got it!” Cassidy hurried to the back of the tavern to where Spam and Samuel were sitting. “I’ve got an address.”

         The two men looked to each other and then back to Cassidy. Spam spoke first, “Sit down, Cass, and show us what you have.”

         Cassidy sat at the table, placed a sheet of paper on the table, and stated, “I’ve got an address for Carrie Jo.”

         Samuel looked at the piece of paper laying on the table. He made no effort to pick it up. He waited for Cassidy to finish her story.

          “Dave ran Carrie Jo’s name for warrants; nothing came up. But then, we found a new driver’s license for a Carrie Jo Harris. She lives in an apartment not four blocks from here.” Cassidy quickly shared. “But, there’s more.”

         Cassidy waited for the men to ask her to continue. Spam had done this before. He knew how excited Cassidy got when she thought a case had a big break. Spam coaxed her to continue, “What else have you got, Cass?”

         Cassidy controlled her excitement, lowered her voice, and spoke, “Well, she is not here alone.” Cassidy glanced to Samuel and continued, “It appears there is a child. Her name is Amanda and she’s seventeen years old. She’s in her last year of high school and lives here with her mother, Carrie Jo.”

          “A child?” Samuel repeated. “This is the first time in all these years I’ve heard of a child. Whose is it? Is she married? Was she married?”

          “I don’t know any of those answers, Samuel.” Cassidy spoke tenderly. “All we can do is speculate. But, I think we can take some pretty good guesses. She never changed her name. I think you can assume she never married. And, it is interesting that, in the margin next to Amanda’s name, the school records have penciled in ‘mulato.’ The child’s father appears to be black. She may be your daughter, Samuel.”

***********************

         Samuel stepped up onto the curb outside the brownstone apartment. He looked up the flight of six stairs at the number on the door. It matched the address Cassidy had written on the paper. Mixed emotions flooded Samuel. He was excited at the thought of seeing Carrie Jo again. But, dread cast a shadow on the reunion. He realized she was not the same person he had left eighteen years ago. She was no longer a young girl in love with a black boy. Life and circumstances had a way of being brutal with the passing of time. It was hard on him; he wondered how much harder it had been raising a young girl of mixed racial parentage, especially in the South. Samuel looked back to the Ford Fairlane with Spam and Cassidy sitting in it. Those two strangers were the only support he had. And, yet, somehow he felt it was sufficient. He scaled the steps, hesitated and knocked softly on the door.

         He heard shuffling behind the door and then the scrapes and bumps of the chain and deadbolt being disengaged. The door opened; however one chain remained, permitting it to open only six inches. Looking through the gap at him, Samuel saw the deepest, brownest eyes he had ever seen. He could see enough of the face to determine the young lady standing before him was absolutely lovely. He craned his neck to get a more complete view but was restricted by the narrow opening.

          “Yes,” the young girl spoke, “may I help you?”

          “Yes, ma’am,” Samuel began softly, “I’m looking for Carrie Jo Harris. My name is Samuel; I’m a very old friend from Alabama. Am I at the right place?”

         Amanda examined the black man standing on her front stoop. He was clean shaven and neatly dressed. His clothes were a little worn, but he had a kind face and a gentle voice.

          “Carrie Jo is my mom. If you wait here for a moment I’ll get her.”

          “Thank you”

         The door closed. Samuel waited on the stoop, casting his eyes to the Fairlane and listening for any movement behind the door. After a short wait he heard the chain being removed from the inside of the door. It opened wide, revealing a much older but still radiant Carrie Jo.

          “Samuel,” was all she said.

          “Hello, Carrie Jo; it’s been a long time.” A smile crept onto his face as he looked into her eyes.

         Her voice was guarded and lacking emotion, as if she were struggling to keep it in control. “Hello, Samuel. I never expected to see you turn up on my door step.”

          “I’ve been lookin’ for you Carrie Jo. All these years I’ve been trying to find you.”

         She smiled and shrugged, “I thought you were dead. I thought you had died in the War.” She paused after that simple declaration and then continued. “I left Selma years ago. My Pa threw me out when he found I was pregnant. The town turned their back on me. I couldn’t find your Pappy cause they moved shortly after you enlisted. I had no one. I scraped and clawed at just making a living. I’ve done things that I’m not proud of, but I’ve made a new life for me and my daughter.”

          “I’m so sorry.” Was all Samuel could say. A tear formed in his eye and began to trek down his cheek.

         Carrie Jo’s face softened as she spoke, “Oh, you didn’t do anything, Samuel. You only loved me. I guess we did it to each other.” She tightened her lips in a weak smile. “I guess you’ve seen Amanda. You know now, of course, she’s your daughter. I guess she’s the only good thing that’s come out of this.”

          “I’d like to come back, Carrie Jo. All these years have not changed my feelings for you.” Samuel shared softly. “I’d like to make us a family.”

         Carrie Jo shook her head slowly and reached up and placed her palm on Samuel’s cheek. “Oh, Samuel, I wish it were that easy. I wish we could just pick up and chase the dream together. But, it ain’t that easy, Samuel. Things have changed. I’m not strong enough to be your wife. Raising Amanda has taken all my strength. I don’t think I can take the stares we would get in public, the talking behind our backs, the nasty things that people do to couples like us. I’m just not up to the fight, Samuel.”

          “You could be,” Samuel shared hopefully, “I’d help you Carrie Jo. We could do it together.”

         Carrie Jo shook her head and replied, “No, no we couldn’t. It’s just not going to work Samuel. I don’t want you in my life. That part is over. I have my memories every time I see Amanda. Memories is all I can deal with. You’ll have to go, Samuel. Go find a new life. You’ve found me; now let me go.” Carrie Jo began closing the door. “Don’t come back, Samuel. Good-bye.”

         She shut the door. Samuel could hear the deadbolt engage and the chains rustle as they were secured. Carrie Jo was gone. He stared at the door for a moment and then reached into his pocket and removed a scrap of paper; he retrieved the stub of a pencil he carried with him and jotted a note on the paper telling her how to reach him, at least for the moment. He tucked it into a crack in the door where it could be easily found. It was all he knew to do.

***********************

         The smell of baked turkey filled the room. Spam was amazed at the transformation in his apartment. His landlady, Wilma, and Cassidy had certainly outdone themselves, at least in Spam’s eyes. The table was laden with food. There was little room left for plates and drinks. The turkey claimed the center point of the arrangement. Spam assumed he was going to be asked to carve the thing. He would try. Accompanying the turkey was dressing and giblet gravy. A huge bowl of mashed potatoes was available for those who may not prefer dressing. Corn on the cob filled a large bowl. There was pea salad, cranberries, green beans, fried okra, two casseroles he could not identify, and fresh rolls piled high on separate platters. To the side, on a separate table, were the desserts, consisting of pumpkin and pecan pie, and a huge German chocolate cake. The two women had even rustled up some warm cider and cold egg-nog. Spam figured he’d be making turkey sandwiches for a month.

         The gathering included Jocko, Spam, Wilma Knight, Cassidy and her son, Jerry, and Samuel. Cassidy had asked him to come. She could not bear to see him spend a Thanksgiving alone. Besides, Samuel was one of the group now. Jocko had given him a job as a handyman at the tavern and had recently learned Samuel knew how to mix drinks. Jocko asked him to fill in when needed as a part-time bartender. Jocko could use the help and Samuel could certainly use the money.

         Samuel wandered up to Spam at the punch bowl and began speaking, “Mr. Spam. I want you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me—finding Carrie Jo and all.”

         Spam smiled at Samuel and responded, “Well, thank you. But, you know, I did very little. It was Cassidy who did all the legwork. She’s the one who found Carrie Jo and Amanda. I just wish it had turned out better, Samuel.”

          “That’s OK, Mr. Spam. I suppose it was just not meant to be.” Samuel returned, tightening his lips as he finished speaking. “But, it helps somehow to know that Amanda is out there. It helps to know that something beautiful came out of all this. I guess I should just be grateful for that.”

          “You’re a wise man Samuel.”

         Samuel grinned and replied, “It’s easy to be wise, Mr. Spam, when you got no other choice.”

         A knock at the door interrupted their conversation. They watched Cassidy attend to the door. When it opened, they saw Amanda standing there.

          “Why, Amanda,” Cassidy exclaimed, “what are you doing here child?”

          “I’ve come to see my father.” She stated softly and then asked, “May I?”

          “Certainly, dear.” Cassidy affirmed then asked, "How in the world did you find us here?"

         Amanda smiled sheepishly and explained, "I found the note my father left for my mom. I went to that place; but, it was closed. So I just started asking everyone I saw if they knew where Jocko was. Eventually, a man said I could find him at Mr. Hummer's house. I came here just hoping my father would be here also."

         Cassidy smiled at Amanda and turned to call for Samuel, but there was no need. He was standing beside her gazing at Amanda.

          “I’m your father, Amanda.”

          “I know. Mom, told me about you. She said you were a good man.”

          “That was kind of her.” Samuel spoke tenderly.

          “But, I figured I should find out for myself.” Her voice quaked and tears began to trickle down her cheeks. “Mom, says it’s best if we don’t have you in our lives. That it would be complicated.”

          “She’s probably right, Amanda.” Samuel agreed.

          “Maybe so, but this is my life too. And, if it’s alright with you, I’d like to have you as my father. I’d like to get to know you and you to know me.” She was openly crying now.

         Amanda lifted her hands to her face and tried to wipe the tears away. It was no use, they flooded out. Her shoulders quivered as she sobbed and spoke midst the torent of tears. "I'm so sorry for coming here and acting like this. It's just that for so long you were just a story to me, someone who I would never, ever know. And, now you're here and I don't want to lose you." Her sobbing abated slightly, "Even though I don't even know you, I don't want to lose you. I'm so sorry for being such a baby."

          “Darlin’,” Samuel responded as he reached out and drew her into his chest. “It’s alright with me. If that's what you want, I promise I'm not going anywhere. I'll try to make it up to you. And, maybe someday your mom will want me too.”

         Amanda clung to Samuel and sobbed. Tears escaped down Samuel’s cheeks, hiding in the wrinkles of his face. Cassidy quietly cried beside them, watching the scene unfold before them all; Spam reached out and took her hand. Cassidy looked at him and smiled, as she wiped her cheeks. He slid his arm around her shoulders and she leaned into him. He considered he had something in common with Samuel; he had also found someone. It was certainly a day for counting blessings, a day for giving thanks. Spam glanced over at his 0.45 cal handgun hanging in its holster on the wall. Life was good. Cassidy filled that empty spot in his life. He shrugged to himself and determined there was no need to play his game with the handgun any more. He had found what he was searching for. They all had.