High C at the Sunset Terrace

Marvin’s thoughts raced as he strode along Cheryl’s block. He had so many things he wanted to tell her, so many things he wanted to ask her.

The instant her front porch came into view, however, he stopped in his tracks. Cheryl’s father stepped onto the porch from inside; he was wielding a twelve-gauge pump. He squarely faced Reggie Williams. Marvin couldn’t make out the exact words of their exchange, but their voices grew louder. Marvin heard a car door slam across the street. One of Reggie’s goons, the one who had slugged Marvin in the gut the previous fall, ran over to the Johnson house, reaching inside his coat pocket as he ran. Suddenly two shots rang out. Reggie and his assistant both dropped on the Johnsons’ steps.

"Who the hell shot these guys?" yelled Cheryl’s dad. "I din’t shoot ‘em! I didn’t shoot anybody!"

By this time, several neighbors were streaming onto the sidewalk. Blood started running down the steps. Marvin rushed to the scene.

"Just stand still," shouted Marvin to Cheryl’s father. "Just stand still!"

"I didn’t shoot nobody!" Mr. Johnson yelled.

"I believe you, man, but just stand still!"

A squad car and an ambulance pulled up. The cops, from the nearby Haughville precinct, surrounded a figure down at the corner, on the other side of the house from where Marvin had been standing. Marvin ran to that area and saw Al, his body shaking and his cane wobbling as he faced three cops with pistols drawn.

"Put the gun down!" one of the cops demanded. Al dropped his own pistol and two of the officers rushed in and grabbed him by the arms.

Marvin looked back to the porch and noticed that a couple of policemen were grabbing Cheryl’s father as well. Then Al caught Marvin’s eye and Al yelled, "I was on my way over to play cards and I saw this going down! I had to do something!"

"Don’t say another word!" said Marvin. "Don’t open your mouth again till we get you a lawyer!"

Cheryl came out of her house, spied Marvin and rushed down the block into his arms, sobbing.

"Baby, precious, you all right?" Marvin asked.

"Oh, Marvin, I just had a feeling this was going to come to something awful!" Cheryl blurted. "Just please, stay with me!"

"I’m stayin’ right here, sweetheart," said Marvin as he held his woman tight and watched the swirling crowd and the kaleidoscope of revolving lights against the backdrop of a fading pink Indiana sunset.

"You, come on in," said the detective to The Indianapolis Star reporter. "You, stay put or whatever you want to do. I may have time for you later," he said to the reporter from The Indianapolis Recorder. He ushered the Star journalist into his office area from the hallway. "And you!" he shouted to Marvin, "Get off that phone and go sit down with the rest of the - witnesses!"

Marvin went over to the waiting area where Cheryl, her mother and several neighbors were huddled.

"Look!" said the Recorder writer as he poked his head in the door, "You’re not going to tell him anything different than you’re going to tell me! I demand to be in on this briefing, too!"

"Ah, shit," said the detective. "Okay, come on in."

"Who is the actual suspect?" asked the man from the Recorder as he took out a pen and notepad.

"A Mr. Alvin Quinn. He’s under arrest, although we’re holding a Mr. Nathan Johnson for questioning as well. Both men had weapons drawn as officers arrived at the scene. We’ve already begun ballistics and forensics testing."

Lucy Quinn entered the office area, holding a paper sack. The detective turned to her and barked, "Lady, you need to go back out into the hallway unless I’ve called you in here. In fact, you really need to go back down to the front desk."

"I was told I could bring my husband’s medications up here," said Lucy.

"Who is your husband? Is he Mr. Quinn? Sit over here with these people," said the detective.

"Is someone going to get his medicine to him?" she asked.

The detective grabbed the bag. "We’ll see that he gets it," said the detective.

Lucy sat down beside Marvin. "What really happened?" she asked him.

"I don’t know every last detail," Marvin replied in a whisper. "He must have seen Williams and Cheryl’s dad arguing. I don’t know if he saw Williams make some kind of move or what."

"Oh, Marvin, I’m so scared. Will he get a fair trial? We went all those years with havin’ the club and we never had any trouble. What’s gonna happen now?"

"I’m not sure, Lucy, but I promise you this: I will be there for him every minute until the truth comes out and he’s free and clear. I won’t leave town until the moment that happens."

"Just about a half a cup. Thanks," said Len to the Perkins Grill waitress who was poised over his table with a coffee pot. Len turned to Marvin. "Yeah, I’m sure I can get you back on at the warehouse," he said. "But, man, isn’t it gonna be a little strange to drive a forklift again after playin’ with the top musicians in the country every night?"

"I gotta stay here for the time being," replied Marvin. "Cheryl’s all torn up, her family’s all upset, my mom needs help. I gotta help Al pay for a lawyer."

"Well, go see Dale tomorrow morning before ten," said Len. Dale was the foreman at the warehouse.

"Okay. Don’t worry; I’m gonna find a gig, too," said Marvin.

Just then Joe Moss came into the restaurant. He spied Marvin and Len sitting in a booth. As he came over, Marvin stood up, smiled and extended his hand. Joe put his arms around Marvin and embraced him.

"The road was good to you, man," said Joe. "You’re looking’ good. Soundin’ good, too. We all have those records. Royce Edwards, Mary Kent."

"Thanks. Man, everybody’s glad to hear about what’s been goin’ on with you, too," said Marvin.