As the Wicked Watch(28)
“Oh!” Clark exhaled a breath of relief. “Well, as long as he can make me look as good-looking on TV as you do, he’s all right with me.” He chuckled, and Scott’s shoulders dropped a quarter inch.
“I hope we’re not intruding,” I said. “Are you expecting someone?”
“Not for another thirty minutes. Go on and order yourselves some breakfast. Vera!” He threw up his hand and summoned a nearby waitress. “Bring us some menus.”
Until the commissioner mentioned food, it hadn’t dawned on me that I was in fact quite hungry. I’d lost my appetite this morning and didn’t finish my light breakfast. While I’m here, there’s no harm in my ordering my favorite meal—salmon croquettes with cheese grits and a warm from-scratch biscuit as big as my hand with strawberry jam. It was enough to eat for two people. Scott and I might have shared a large meal such as this someplace else, but not at the District. We had already elicited a few stares—daggers, actually—when we walked in together. I mustn’t appear too chummy with my White colleague at the risk of arousing distrust by my inevitable detractors, who are convinced that my education and perceived success have distanced me from my community. Also, people don’t know a lot about my personal life. The first time they see me with a man, some will assume he’s my man or will wonder what I’m hiding.
I knew without even asking that Clark’s clock was ticking. Once we ordered, I got right down to business. There was a lot at stake. Even though Louise Robinson and I knew of each other, and her niece Tanya had made me welcome to call her, my instincts told me I needed more gravitas than Tanya to use on Louise. A credible introduction from Commissioner Clark, an astute dealmaker and a heavy hitter like she was herself, would get me a lot further.
“Commissioner, do you have a relationship with Louise Robinson?” I asked.
“Oh, so that’s who you’re after,” he said, chuckling.
“I respect your opinion. I’d like to find out a little more about her before I reach out to talk to her today.” I smiled.
The commissioner laughed even harder.
What’s so damn funny?
He took a deliberate sip of his coffee. I recognize this old-school power move. I couldn’t decipher whether he was thinking about his reply or he was toying with me.
“Yeah, I know Louise,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
“She and the South Side Community Council are orchestrating a vigil tonight for Masey James. She’s one of the founders, actually,” I said.
“Ha!” he scoffed. “She likes to tell people that, but Louise Robinson didn’t even live in Chicago when the council was established. She was out in the south suburbs up to God knows what.”
I’m not sure what he meant by God knows what. I took it with a grain of salt, because from what I’ve read about Louise Robinson, I know that she is an alpha female who has challenged the establishment, which includes Clark. When a woman does this, it can come at a cost to her reputation and make her unlikable to people who feel threatened by her.
“Really, she’s not from Chicago?” I asked.
“She’s from here, but she married a guy from out there,” he said. “They’ve been divorced for a while now, but she’s only been back in the city for about three, four years.”
Our food arrived quickly. By now Clark was so deep into his story, he appeared not to notice. So was I. I forgot to ask for hot sauce, but I was hungry, so I attacked the southern dish that was in stark contrast to my normal sushi and food fusion restaurant world fare, and listened intently as he went on to tell me how Robinson barely escaped indictment while serving as an elected member of a south suburban municipal board.
“The village got so far behind on paying its garbage vendor, they didn’t pick up residential trash for three weeks! Can you imagine?”
“I wouldn’t want to,” Scott chimed in.
“The court had to intervene. It was a mess,” he said. “That was before your time, Jordan. She resigned. The terms of the rest of the board members expired, and none of them sought reelection. Not even the mayor,” he said.
The steam rising off his scrambled eggs finally drew his attention and he grabbed his fork, leaning over his food and taking a bite. That didn’t stop him from talking, though. He went on to explain how Louise moved back in with her mother in Englewood, which consistently ranks as one of the most dangerous neighborhoods in Chicago, with the highest rate of homicides and one of the lowest rates of high school graduations.
“She wasn’t there long before she started nagging,” he said.
“What do you mean by that?” I asked, trying to hide my disgust at his misogynistic commentary about a woman who clearly cares about her community.
“Oh, just constantly complaining, calling my office and city council members with every grievance imaginable. Before she became such a difficult person, I told her, ‘Look, if you want to run for office, then run. Just stop tying up my phone.’ In fact, you know the playground where that girl’s body was found the other day?”
“Yes, I know it well,” I said, moving to the edge of my seat.
“She was the one who blasted the mayor’s office and the Park District for letting it fall victim to blight. That was a few years ago, and it’s still in horrible shape.”