Chapter 15
Dennis heaved a mighty sigh as he struggled to put all the papers he’d taken from his backpack into some kind of order. “Over the weekend, I went out to SE Washington, and that’s not a place I want to go again; but I will, of course. The gangs are . . . everywhere. One of the leaders accosted me, and I told him why I was there. That I was an investigative reporter, and I was trying to get the goods on the landlord for the people living in the buildings he owned. The leader was no dummy. He asked to see my credentials and suggested I also look into the management company that is supposed to take care of the buildings. Once we had a rapport going, he gave the okay to talk to some of the tenants. The tenants that are within his gangdom, if there is such a word. He said he’d pass the word to the other leaders if they wanted to . . . ah . . . come on board. He said he’d let me know and said he’d pave the way for a sit-down meeting.
“Here’s the thing, Jack. They told me they would help but only if I got the tenants some heat. It was the weekend, there was nothing I could do but wait for this morning. I was at the power company when they opened, and I laid down some serious money to pay for some heating. They assured me there would be heat by noon provided the units were in working order. They promised to send crews out there to work on the units. I laid down some more money to pay for new units if need be, parts, fuel, etc. Luther, the guy I talked to . . . ah . . . offered his gang’s help. I said I’d call on him if I needed him.
“Here’s the thing, Jack, yeah, these are punks, but they take care of their own the best way they can. There are quite a few old people living in those rat traps. These guys steal for them. Luther admitted it. Like he said, they tried the system, and it doesn’t work for people like them, so they took matters into their own hands.”
Jack looked at his watch. It was quarter of eleven. “Have you spoken to Luther this morning?”
“Before I came here. He said the neighborhood is buzzing with all kinds of contractors, electricians, and the management-company spokesperson, who he himself personally ran off. The guy’s name is Lionel Marks, and he owns District Management. He was mouthing off about trespassing, illegal installations, and a bunch of other stuff. He said he was coming back with a lawyer and the police. I don’t know whether or not that was bravado, but the guy ended up walking away because when he wasn’t looking, the gang members jacked up his car, a fancy Mercedes, and stripped it down, leaving nothing but the shell. Short of a SWAT team, few police, I’m told, ever venture out there in what the gangs call Never Land. They’ll sell the parts to some chop shop, take the money, and disburse it through the section they control. You know, warm clothes for the kids, food for the old people, and they pay for cell phones for them, too, in case of an emergency. At first glance, they, the gang members, look kind of fierce, but they’re just kids underneath, and they’re fighting the only way they know how. It’s the slums, man. They don’t see a way out from where they’re standing. We can help, Jack.”
“I think you made a hell of a start this morning, kid. That’s a good thing you did. Money talks, and I’m glad you have a boatload of it. So what’s our next move here?”
Dennis glanced at the clock on Jack’s wall. “I gave Luther my number and yours. Since he hasn’t called either one of us, I’m thinking things are progressing. Do you want to take a ride out there? It wouldn’t hurt for you to see it all for yourself.”
“Sure, why not. Let me check with the guys, and I’ll be ready in ten minutes. What are you driving?”
“The Post van. Espinosa took his car when he left with Ted. You can bring Cyrus if you want.”
“I want,” Jack said through clenched teeth. “So what do you think, young Dennis?”
“I think I have to admire their fight for survival. Yeah, the gangs are wrong, but they don’t have a way out. You play the hand you’re dealt. Who’s to say you or I wouldn’t do the same thing if we walked in their shoes. Oh, one other thing, they make sure the little kids get to school and that they have all the supplies they need. Luther told me there is one little boy who can play the piano so well it makes tears come to your eyes. They take him for lessons in the hope he’ll be able to get out of there someday. I have no clue where they get the money for the lessons, but they get it. I was not about to ask, either. There’s another little girl who needs some medical help, and they’re working on that. Good and bad in everything, Jack.”
“Well damn,” was all Jack could think of to say. “Okay, I’m ready. You’re driving, I assume.”
“I am driving,” Dennis said curtly.
Luther Jones was a tall, gangly young kid. If he was seventeen, he was old. He greeted Dennis like a long-lost brother, and said, “Your wheels are safe. Nice dog, mister. I love dogs. My granny has a cat so’s to keep her warm. We make sure he gets plenty to eat, so he don’t go all skinny on us.
“Dennis, my brother, I don’t know what kind of magic you worked, but lookie here at all these fine people out here to help us. We getting new furnaces and hot-water heaters, and they are telling us that by suppertime my street is going to be warm and cozy. Unless Mr. Lionel Marks shows up with the cops to strip everything outta here.”
“That won’t happen,” Jack said. Cyrus barked his approval as he sniffed Luther’s leg. He held up his paw to shake hands. Jack decided right then and there that Luther was A-okay.
“He smells my granny’s cat on me. Fool animal likes to sit on my lap when he ain’t sitting on Granny’s lap. She calls him Loopy because he loves Fruit Loops.”
“Luther, we need to speak with the family that lost their children last winter. Can you arrange a meeting?”
“I wish I could, but I can’t. They moved in April, couldn’t stay here any longer. A cousin drove up from Miami and took them away from here.”
“Do you know how we can get in touch? We want to make things right for them. As well as the rest of your neighbors.”
“I’ll ask around. It’s not like we have cell phones growing out our ears around here. In this neighborhood, there’s but five of them. Four for the old folks, and they share among themselves, and I have one. I’ll see what I can find out.”
Dennis was hopping from one foot to the other to ward off the cold. “So, what else can we do for you before we leave?”
“Man, I have to wonder what planet you dropped from. Nobody has ever been this good to us. Why? What are you getting out of this?”
“Not a damn thing. We just want to help. Now, what else do you need?”
“Is the dude serious?” Luther asked Jack directly.
“He’s serious,” Jack said solemnly.
“Well, then okay. We could do with some real good food. You know, for suppertime, when we’re all warm and cozy. There’s a market over there on the avenue. I can have two of my guys go with you to shop if you’re sure you want to do that.”
“Round them up and let’s go. We can pack a lot of stuff in the van.”
Luther stood back and watched the van disappear from view. He scratched his head as he tried to figure out what had just happened. He pointed to three of his members and told them to spread the word: food was coming. Good food.
Two hours later, the van showed up just as Ted and Espinosa pulled to the curb. “Dennis sent us,” Ted said as he exited Espinosa’s SUV. “We’re here to help. We work at the Post with Dennis.”
Luther scratched his head again. “Okay. Your car is safe.”
“Glad to hear it since it isn’t paid for yet,” Espinosa muttered.
Ted looked at Luther, uncertain how he should say what he wanted to say. In the end, he just blurted it out. “How do you guys feel about being on the front page of the Post tomorrow morning?”
Luther pondered the question for several moments. “Who do you mean when you say, you guys?”
“You, your . . . ah club members, the tenants—anyone who wants to talk to us.”
“I don’t see a problem. You gonna talk to Mr. Lionel Marks?”
“We’ll call him, and if he cares to comment, we’ll print it. I’m thinking he won’t want to do that because he’ll be way too busy trying to salvage his cutthroat company.”
Dennis blew the horn on the van. The back doors flew open as the call went up and down the street for everyone to assemble.
It only took an hour to disburse the food and another two hours for Ted and Espinosa to interview anyone who wanted to talk. He did a separate interview with the young pianist and the little girl in need of medical help. He knew within twenty-four hours both children’s futures would be secure because if there was one thing the Post was good at, it was getting people to help other people. Not to mention that one of Espinosa’s pictures was worth a thousand words.
Maggie Spritzer gaped and gawked as Ted fed her the story that would be the headline for the morning paper. She could smell a Pulitzer for Ted and Dennis. She was so jealous, she wanted to chew nails and spit rust.