I think, Socrates said slowly. That you lookin' to be two dead men.
In his younger days Socrates would have already crushed these men. They might have already been dead, but Socrates was a changed man. He gave his enemies a warning, a five-second window in which to drop what they were doing and run. The man in the overalls had enough sense to put up a protective arm before Socrates hit him. The arm padded the blow enough to save him from a broken jaw or a trip to the morgue. His friend tried to do what was right. He threw some kind of karate chop at Socrates' head. He even connected while grunting loudly to increase the force of his blow. Socrates grabbed the man by his long hair and sent him sliding across the dirt and broken glass of the asphalt alley.
Then Socrates picked up one of the steel pipes that he always left lying around his yard in case he needed a weapon quickly in the middle of the night. The man in the overalls was semiconscious but his friend was aware and on his feet.
You get the fuck away from here, man, Socrates warned. Or the next time I touch you will be last thing you ever feel.
Dreadlocks knew what Socrates said was true. He wouldn't even cross the alley to help his downed companion.
It's you in trouble, man, he yelled at Socrates. That ain't your place. You in there illegal and they hired us to move your stuff. The cops gonna come after this. The law gonna come down on you now.
The man in the overalls was trying to rise. Socrates pulled him up by his straps and pushed him toward his friend. Together the house wreckers stumbled away from Socrates' home, down the alley to report their failure. Socrates watched them, willing himself to stay where he was and not go after his hidden handgun.
You showed 'em, Mr. Fortlow, Irene Melendez shouted from her own backyard across the alley. I told 'em they didn't want to mess with the master of that house but they didn't listen. They didn't listen and now they got to go to the clinic an' get all sewed up.
The small Louisianan woman was so happy that Socrates smiled again.
Where they say they was from? he asked his neighbor of nine years.
First they told me it wasn't none of my business. Told me to go back in my house and shut up. But when I said I was callin' the cops they said it was Mr. Lomax from Cherry Hill Developers. They said that Mr. Lomax owns these here stores and that he wanna sell 'em so you had to go.
Socrates nodded and gave her an evil grin. We'll see about all that, he said.
The police showed up within two hours of the fight but Brenda Marsh had already made it to Socrates' back alley home. The slender, mocha-colored woman had hair that she'd dyed blond and wore a rose-colored two-piece suit with a bright yellow blouse underneath. She had represented Socrates once before when he had been arrested for assault. And even though he didn't like her hairstyle or way of talking Socrates kept her number because a poor man didn't necessarily have to like his friends.
She met the three officers at the door.
My client is not here at the moment, officers, the young lawyer said. He had to go out but I am aware of the events that took place this afternoon.
Leon Burris and Almond Trapps have sworn out a complaint against Mr. Fortlow, Officer Wayne Leontine said. Where is he?
Mr. Fortlow was protecting his property from those men, Officer Leontine. They broke into his home unlawfully and threw his property into the street.
That's not for me to judge, Ms. Marsh, Officer Leontine said. He had come with two other uniforms. Socrates watched them from Mrs. Melendez's house across the alley. He smiled when he saw three cops.
They always send three,
he thought to himself.
That's 'cause they scared'a what they might get.
I have a witness, Brenda Marsh was saying, who can tell you that these men broke into Mr. Fortlow's domicile.
They were working for the owner, Ms. Marsh, Leontine said impatiently. Your Mr. Fortlow was trespassing.
A brilliant smile came across the lawyer's face. It was fierce and triumphant. That's not true. Mr. Fortlow is the rightful tenant of Price Landers, the original owner of this property. I have the rent agreement and the receipt for the first and last months rent that Mr. Fortlow paid over nine years ago. I also have the canceled stubs of twelve money orders that Mr. Fortlow sent to Mr. Landers in 1990. These money orders were returned with no forwarding address being given. The stubs show that Mr. Fortlow intended to pay his rent but could not locate the landlord.
Leontine stumbled then.
I don't know anything about that
No, officer, Brenda Marsh interrupted. And neither do you know that my client's actions were unprovoked. I have proof that this apartment is my client's legal domicile. I also have a witness saying that she saw your Mr. Burris and Mr. Trapps illegally break into Mr. Fortlow's home. I am willing to make an appointment with your desk sergeant for Mr. Fortlow to come in and face his accusers but first I have to get an injunction against the men who sent Burris and Trapps to vandalize my client's home.
Do you know where Mr. Fortlow is? Leontine asked in a last-ditch attempt to take control.
Not at this time. But we have an appointment to speak by phone tomorrow morning at ten o'clock. I will contact your desk sergeant after that. But first I am telling you that this property is legally in the possession of my client at this moment in time and that if it is in any way molested by Trapps, Burris or some other agent of their employer it will be a crime. And because you have been informed of this situation and because you have spoken to the vandals and they have admitted their illegal activity, although presenting it as their legal right, I hold you responsible for the protection of Mr. Fortlow's property.
I'm just trying to uphold the law, lady, Officer Leontine said.
The law, she replied, works for the poor man as well as the rich.
I didn't say it didn't, Leontine answered. After that he left with his friends.
At seven that evening four men arrived at the gate of Socrates' apartment. The man in the overalls, Leon Burris, was armed with a baseball bat. Killer was the first to see them but soon Stony Wile, Howard Shakur, and Chip Lowe with four members of his neighborhood watch appeared out of Socrates' home.
What you want here? Howard said boldly to the intruders.
What business it to you, Negro? Burris growled.
I could see by that swolled-up jaw that you done got yo' ass whipped once already, Howard said. This time we might just have to break it up permanent.
Socrates watched the demolition thugs back off and retreat. A feeling of power thrummed in his heart. He felt like a Cadillac cruising on a full tank of gas.
The next morning Socrates Fortlow and his lawyer, Brenda Marsh, stood before desk sergeant Tremont LaMett. Sergeant LaMett had to decide whether or not to allow Officer Leontine to execute a warrant issued for the arrest of Socrates.
Did you hit him? LaMett asked the burly ex-con.
My client was protecting his property, Ms. Marsh responded. She and Socrates had agreed that he would stay silent during the interview with the police.
Silent is my best thing, he had told his blond Negro lawyer.
I was asking him, LaMett said to Ms. Marsh.
I am representing Mr. Fortlow, sergeant. I have here an affidavit from Mrs. Irene Melendez who says that she had warned the accusers that they were trespassing and that when Mr. Fortlow confronted them that they approached him in a threatening manner. I also have photocopies of Mr. Fortlow's lease with Price Landers and his canceled money order stubs. I have been granted an injunction against the Cherry Hill Development Company and Mr. Ira Lomax preventing them from taking any further action against Mr. Fortlow or his property until this matter can be settled in front of a judge.