A Slice of Reparations
Chapter 1
Marcia Chenault wore her mother’s spirit around her neck in a dinkenga pacquet, a gold cross with four diamonds at each point. Representing the four moments of sun and soul — birth and life, death and rebirth – – she had worn it everyday since her mother died eleven years ago.
She touched it upon awakening, cajoled from a sweet slumber by the phone on the bedside table that rang with annoying consistency.
“Ms. Chenault, please don’t hang up.”
Marcia nearly did just that upon recognizing the voice as belonging to Harvey Thompson, the Hudson Valley Sheriff by popular vote. Just a couple of months ago, he called her an “angry black woman,” society’s pariah. More significant however, the interruption disturbed the first night of sleep untroubled by dreams of Jonathan she’d had in untold months.
“What do you want, Thompson?” Her dry mouth gave an edgy, disagreeable tone to her voice. She reached for the iHome system that stored her Ipod on the bedside table to check the time. Touching the screen lightly, July 2011 flashed seconds before the time, 8:48AM. The 4th was highlighted.
“Something’s bad happened.”
Her lips parted with a ready quip, And what does that have to do with me? But the quiver that invaded his throat, highlighting the ominous tone of his deep voice cut it short. Marcia sat up and pulled her knees to her chest, huddling in trepidation. “Why call me?” she asked, instead of ‘who was murdered?’
© 2011 Margie Walker