CHAPTER 5

I made my way south, past the construction of an interchange where a new

east-west freeway crossed a new north-south parkway. It was all part of a never-

ending effort to overcome gridlock in a city so bloated by urban sprawl that

ownership of a car or truck was a necessity. My path wound around the east side

of the airport where southeast Phoenix touched northwest Tempe, past the airport

and south of Interstate 10, west to 40th Street and south past Broadway.

I found Charlie’s place, a two-story apartment building a block east of

40th Street. The apartment building was one of three on the street, all a fading

shade of yellow. They were three-sided, with the open end to the north. A

stairway led up to a balcony for access to the apartments on the second floor.

The rest of the neighborhood was made up of low-cost single-family

houses. A windowless wall on the west end of the apartment building was

adorned with graffiti. Kids of various shades of white, black, and brown played

baseball in the street, the outfield spilling over onto the worn grass in front of the

apartment. I drove slowly through the game, giving the players a wave of thanks

for allowing me to pass through.

The sun was now low enough to allow the apartment building to cast a

long shadow. I found a space in the shade on the east side of the building, parked

and got out. I saw no sign of Heidi, and wished I had had the presence of mind at

Lucinda’s to ask Heidi what kind of car she drove.

I walked to the front of the apartment building. Heidi said that Charlie

lived in apartment G. Apartment G was at the far left of six 2nd floor apartments.
An old black man sat near the bottom of the stairs, sipping iced tea and watching

the children play. He wore black baseball cap with the orange and purple logo of

the Phoenix Suns basketball team. He wore a tan T-shirt, gray pants.

“Evenin’,” he said.

“Good evening,” I said. “I’m looking for Charlie Gonnerman. I’m

supposed to meet his sister here.”

“Charlie lives up in G. Haven’t seen him in a few days, ‘though. That his

sister comin’ now?”

I looked where he was gesturing. “Yes sir,” I said. “That’s her.”

Heidi walked across the grass toward us. Her braided hair was still tied up

behind her head. She wore a white, sleeveless blouse, loose khaki shorts and

brown sandals. Her legs were long. As she got closer I saw that she was taller

than I had realized at Lucinda’s.

“Hi Travis,” she said. “Thanks. I really do appreciate you coming here.”

I caught a hint of fresh gardenia in the air. She turned, held out her hand to the

old man sitting on the stairs and said, “I’m Heidi Charlayne, Charlie Gonnerman’s

sister.”

“I’m pleased to meet you Ms. Charlayne. My name is Arthur Davis.”

Without getting up he reached out with a long arm and shook Heidi’s hand. Then

he offered his hand to me.

“I’m Travis Jefferson, Mr. Davis,” I said as we shook hands. “Charlie and

I went to high school together.”

 “Well I’m pleased to meet you, too, Mr. Jefferson,” the old man said. I’m

not sure why, but I got the feeling Arthur Davis knew Charlie Gonnerman fairly

well. I was thinking about this when I noticed another black man walking toward

us.

“Something I can help you folks with?” he said. He was smiling, but I

suspected it was the smile he saved for white people, the smile that says, “’Scuse

me, what are you doing here?”

“Rafer, this is Charlie’s sister and her friend Mr. Jefferson,” Arthur Davis

said. Then to Heidi and me, “This is my grandson Rafer Malone.”

I offered my hand to the man named Rafer and introduced myself. He

stood about 6’ 2’’ and had strong arms on a lean frame. His hair was closely

cropped. He wore black trousers and a white T-shirt, the old fashioned kind with

no sleeves. I guessed he was maybe five or ten years younger than me. Rafer

shook my hand tentatively. Then Heidi offered her hand and said, “Rafer, I’m

Heidi Charlayne. I think Charlie has mentioned you. Haven’t you two known

each other for a long time?”

“A long time,” Rafer agreed. “Since I was a young boy.”

“Rafer, have you seen Charlie in the past few days?” Heidi asked.

“No, I can’t say as I have. But that’s not unusual. He and I often keep

different hours. These days, a week or two could go by and we might not run into

each other. Why?”

“Charlie left me a message on Saturday saying that he thought he might be

in some kind of trouble. He said that if anything happened to him I should

contact Travis. Since then, there’s been no answer when I’ve tried to call him

here. I’ve got a spare key to his apartment, and Travis came with me to see if we

could find out what might have happened.”

“You got any ideas?” Rafer asked, looking at me.

“Rafer, at this point you and your grandfather know as much as I do. We

need to take a look inside Charlie’s apartment. There might be something there

that will at least give us a hint about what’s going on.”

“Well,” said Rafer, now looking at Heidi, “you said you’ve got a key?”

Heidi nodded her head. “Might as well go on up and check it out then. I gotta be

going to the job soon. If there’s anything I can do, you know where to find me.”

“Thank you, Rafer,” Heidi said. “It’s nice to meet you after all these

years.”

“My pleasure,” Rafer replied.

“Rafer,” I said as he began to walk away, “is there some time in the next

couple of days when we could talk some more?”

He looked at me warily. After a moment he smiled. It was the same smile

he had greeted us with, his smile for the white folks. “Sure,” he replied. “I’m

usually around here late in the afternoon.” With that he turned and walked back

down the walk and through the door of apartment E. For the first time I noticed

the sign in the window of that apartment which said “Manager.”

“Mr. Jefferson,” Arthur Davis said to me after his grandson had gone back

inside, “Don’t mind Rafer none. Sometimes it takes him a while to warm up to

folks, that’s all.”

 “Yeah,” I replied, “Sometimes I’m a little that way myself, Mr. Davis.”

Then to Heidi I said, “Well, should we go take a look?”

She looked away, straightened her shoulders, and said, “We have to.”

“You need help with anything, you just give a yell down here,” Arthur

Davis said.

“Thank you, Mr. Davis,” Heidi said. We walked past him up the stairs to

Charlie’s apartment.