The Playmates of Harvest View

By Doris Christian-Johnson

The Playmates of Harvest View is an absorbing story of deception, romance, forbidden desires, murder, and greed. In a small, secluded close-knit community in the state of Missouri, three sisters—Rebecca, Neaverna, and Samantha Palermo—like most, enjoyed the security and tranquility, until that late afternoon in June. Their peaceful lives were splintered when Rebecca went missing, and later found raped and murdered. Her friends and male playmates, Thaddeus Kennedy, Jeremy Browriskyzcoff-Mancina, Joel Earl Baptista, and Joseph Mancina, vowed to avenge her death in later years, at any cost. The suspects, Peter Cruzada and his friends, Timothy Monacelli, Sampson Durgard, and Travis Harvey, were the teenage sons of super rich and powerful parents, who lived the lives of luxury in the suburbs. They were the elites of society and deemed the pillars of their community. At an early age, the little band of boys' child play turned into something far greater than anything one could've ever imagined. Their cruel behaviors landed them in juvenile detention facilities. This was just the beginning of a life that placed the group of boys on the wrong side of the law. In later years, a rash of murders and heavy drug trafficking throughout the United States, Canada, South and Central America, and the Caribbean islands came to the attention of the United States government. Their investigation of these crime sprees led them to the tight closed doors of Peter, and his gang. The gang had grown into a well-organized drug cartel. The world was their playground, and they had become the untouchables. The Central Intelligence Agency Special Task Force was formed, and Thaddeus was the CIA agent who was appointed to oversee the operation. His job was to apprehend Peter and his gang, by any means necessary. He recruited his friends, who were also his childhood playmates, to assist him in apprehending the gang. They never thought that their innocent child play of crooks and robbers would manifest into real-life drama. The relentless manhunt led them to the other side of the world, and back again. Things intensified when they learned that their former classmate, Karen Shaw, was part of the gang. She was dubbed the Gutsy Missouri Bad Girl. Fearless and bold beyond the meaning of the word, she craved bloodshed, which was evidenced in the string of murder victims that she left in every path that she chose to travel. Already faced with unimaginable danger, even death, the Central Intelligence Agency Special Task Force discovered that Peter and his gang had joined forces with a few dirty CIA agents. Driven by greed and the desire to control the underground world, the gang clashed with the mighty playmates of Harvest View. In a bloody showdown in Las Vegas, Nevada, their reign of terror came to an end. Through the years, dating all the way back to their childhood, the playmates of Harvest View's relationships with the sisters of the murdered girl progressed to matrimony, and a lifestyle of class and distinction. Easily said, but not so easily done. This superbly crafted novel has near-perfect balance of action and will attract readers from multiple genres. It's filled with vivid characters whom you would fall in love with, and some you would love to hate. The dramatic actions of these characters pull the readers into incredible sequences of jaw-dropping, spellbinding, and page-turning suspense.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Oct 7, 2020
• ISBN: 9781662403798

Book preview

Chapter One

Harvest View was a small town that could’ve been located anywhere in the universe, and all the inhabitants could’ve been the same nationality. In this novel, the town was in a rural area on the outskirts of Jefferson City, Missouri. The people who lived there, well, they weren’t just your average everyday people. The inhabitants were people from different ethnic backgrounds, and they certainly came with their own gifts and talents.

Unlike their counterparts who lived in the city, they enjoyed the best of two worlds. The extraordinary views of the countryside, privacy, and the essence of beauty often went untold, but not unnoticed. Other unspoken attractions were the nonexistence of the heavy flow of traffic, crowded shopping malls, and other daily annoyances of city living. These things were constant reminders why the people chose to remain in the small close-knit community.

Although their lives had less friction than the lives of their counterparts who lived in the city, there were other challenges that these individuals faced. Those challenges probably were the catalyst that drove some to success.

During the sultry summer months, the children played along the beautiful lake shores. Nothing could’ve compared to swimming and fishing in the lakes, or just simply boating, sometimes under the watchful eyes of their parents. The memories of running through fields of large drooping sunflowers, daffodils, and countless weeds and wildflowers would forever remain with them. Sometimes, they would wander into one of the lighthouses as they played hide-and-seek. The lighthouse keeper gave them a stern warning, which sent them running. For the youths, it was the age of innocence. Their delicate minds were only exposed to what they learned from books, censored television programs, and lessons taught by their parents and neighbors.

Although they had fun during the summer months, fun wasn’t off-limits during those long cold winter months. Snow sledding sometimes caused crashes that turned into innocent snowball fights. Then there was that group of kids from the city who had nothing better to do than to stir up trouble. Seemingly, they got satisfaction out of turning innocent child play into nasty brawls. Sometimes it took more than a stern warning from law enforcement to settle the disputes. Occasionally it led to an arrest, and a trip to the juvenile detention facility.

Those cold winter months weren’t so easily forgotten. The familiar sights of abandoned automobiles stuck in snow trenches, and people treading on the treacherous ice-covered roads reminded one of scenes from Hallmark greeting cards. While the scene appeared peaceful to viewers, it was a time of despair for the courageous souls who were weathering the blizzards.

Although these individuals lived on the threshold of Jefferson City, the small community offered the children a superb education. The three midsize buildings were once used as convents by Catholic priests and nuns. It was the perfect setting for the elementary, middle, and high school. However, the buildings had seen better days. Men armed with their work tools had the place looking like new in no time. A fresh coat of paint added the finishing touch.

Fund-raising events, donations, and a small grant from the government kept the classrooms equipped with all the modern educational materials, including computers. The teachers shoved out education as if it were castor oil. The swift minds of some of the children soaked it up as if they were taking in their last breath of air.

The wealthy Caucasians people who lived in the city labeled the citizens of Harvest View as the underclass. Their biases seemed to have centered on the diversity of the population. However, they gave little if any reactions, regarding the negative comments made about their less-than-perfect world. As time passed, the hard work of the melting pot of interracial immigrants progressed to a desirable place to live.

After the wealthy businessmen saw the phenomenal changes in Harvest View, their perceptions went far beyond their views of a hub of biracial people. Like hungry dogs salivating over juicy steaks, they saw big dollar signs. The excitement in their eyes couldn’t even be compared to the excitement of children on the night before Christmas who had visions of toys and gifts dancing in their heads. Instead, visions of luxurious gated condominiums danced in the heads of the businessmen.

These powerful men owned large companies, and they were ready to send their team of developers to Harvest View to build a community that catered to the rich. First, they had to find a way to gain entry, because the people didn’t take too kindly to outsiders. They knew that their underlying motive was to fill their pockets with more money. Nevertheless, they tried to inch their way in by offering the property owners minimum dollars for their properties. They refused their meager offers, and threatened them with guns, if they didn’t leave.

Madam DuSain saw great benefits in moving her thriving boardinghouse business from the city to the small, secluded community. In her midthirties, the woman lived a speckled life. The petite attractive woman spoke with a distinct accent, and she had strong ties to prostitution and the underground drug world, which kept her on the run. In every case, her swift move from the city came on the heels of the law.

Dragging her five-year-old daughter Nadia with her, she referred to herself as a well-established businesswoman, who was an expert in foreign and domestic commodities. Unlike the developers, she didn’t want to buy any property or build anything. She was seeking a place to reestablish her business.

She told a property owner that the bank had foreclosed on her home in the city and she was seeking a place to storage her furniture. The man didn’t have any idea that he had been deceived. He thought that he was helping a poor woman who was down on her luck. As it turned out, he had invited a ton of trouble into their quiet, peaceful community. In a very short time, she was back in business.

Her move to Harvest View brought some of the most despicable and unsavory characters, who engaged in lewd activities and illegal drugs. It was as if someone had opened the floodgates of hell. Male and female invaded the neighborhood. They made lascivious gestures toward the residents and tried to sell them drugs. Traffic had increased, tremendously. Then the people learned that a house of ill repute was operating right under their noses.

On a warm summer night, along with the two unarmed security guards, the men set out to put the boardinghouse out of business. Using vulgar language, wielding baseball bats and two-by four boards, they stormed the place. With her daughter by her side, Madam DuSain attempted to subdue the angry crowd by firing warning shots into the air. In the meantime, her frantic guests didn’t want any problems with the law. They got in their cars and hauled asses back to the city.

Undeterred by her action, the security guards held her and her daughter until the Jefferson City police officers arrived. She was placed in their custody, as Harvest View didn’t have a lock-up facility. Madam DuSain was charged with running a prostitution ring, selling illegal drugs, using a firearm recklessly, endangering the life of a minor, and disturbing the peace. The court removed her daughter from her care and placed her in a foster home. After spending three days in jail, she was released. Police warned her, if she set foot in Harvest View again, she would be sent to jail for a long time.

Madam DuSain disregarded the police warning and returned to Harvest View with vengeance. It was late evening when she arrived. During her short stay in Harvest View, she learned that the poorest of the poor lived across the railroad tracks. She drove across the tracks because she thought it would be safe to hide out in one of the vacant houses until dark. Then she would drive back across the railroad tracks, seek revenge, and flee the state.

To her dismay, the few houses in the area were occupied, and the people kept to themselves. Of the two doors that she knocked on, not one single person responded. She thought it would be too great of a risk if she had continued to knock on doors. After a quick survey of the place, she learned that she didn’t have easy access to a getaway route. The place was surrounded by woods on two sides, and lakes in the back. A narrow two-lane dirt road was her only means of gaining entry or exiting by automobile. Therefore, she parked her car behind the bushes, and remained there until dark.

At nightfall, she drove back across the railroad tracks. She saturated the back of the boardinghouse with gasoline and set fire to it. Holding a stick of dynamite in one hand and a cigarette lighter in the other, she stood outside the middle school. As she proceeded to ignite the stem, the flickering lights alarmed the janitor, who lived in the building. As he investigated the matter, she viciously attacked him. The big robust man overpowered her. Again, she was arrested. This time she was found guilty of arson and was sentenced to ten years in prison.

After she was released from prison, Madam DuSain rented a room at a cheap hotel. Then she set out to find her daughter. Of course, the court had severed her parental rights, but it didn’t stop her from finding little Nadia. Sadly, at the age of twelve, Nadia ran away from the foster home. She found her fifteen-year-old daughter on the street, working as a prostitute. The mere sight of her mother sent her into an angry rage, and she physically attacked her.

Chapter Two

Despite what happened, Harvest View continued to be a thriving community. Antonio Palermo was a tall muscular man with silky brown hair and thin mustache. He was well-known in Harvest View. His grandfather, Bart Palermo was an Italian immigrant. In search of a new life, he came to the United States with two hundred dollars in his pocket and his ten-month-old grandson in his arms. His wife died of pneumonia prior to the birth of their grandson. He lost his daughter, who was Antonio’s mother, and his son-in-law in a boating accident. Antonio was only two-month-old when the accident occurred.

A very generous man and a master builder, Bart barely spoke English, but he built his own home and grocery store. A man well on his way to achieving the American dream, tragedy struck when he fell from the roof of a clinic that he was helping the neighbors to renovate. He died instantly.

Young Antonio was eighteen years old and a business major at the University of Missouri when the untimely accident happened. Following in the footsteps of his grandfather, he was no stranger to hard work. He helped the neighbors complete the clinic and took pride in operating the grocery store and maintaining the home left by his grandfather.

Chapter Three

On a warm Sunday afternoon, Antonio placed a hefty order of hamburgers and fries at the restaurant where Abby Christian worked as a waitress. He was fascinated by the stunning tall black woman with long straight black hair. She was from the island of Barbados. Her parents came to the United States when she was just an infant. On her fifteenth birthday, her mother, Samantha Christian, died after a lengthy well-hidden illness. Her father, Delray Christian, apparently experienced a difficult time accepting the death of his wife, compounded with the pressure of raising his teenage daughter. He turned to alcohol and eventually lost his job as a successful insurance salesman.

Harvest View didn’t provide the luxury of alcohol beverages. Delray went to the city to get his drink of choice. Sometimes he was gone for days. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. He slept against vacant buildings, and in boxcars on the railroad tracks. The police received frequent phone calls from people who reported seeing a body lying in the alley. After investigating their complaints, they discovered that it was Delray in a drunken stupor. They put him in a jail cell, where he remained until he was sober.

The familiar scene of her father’s empty bed had gotten to be the norm. It was Monday morning, and of course, he was still in the city, drinking with the other down-and-out souls, or sleeping it off in a jail cell, Abby thought.

Sadly, this time, he didn’t return home. Midday Monday, the police found his body behind a vacant building with a single gunshot wound to the head. Although the police labeled the death a homicide, they never made any effort to solve the crime. Two weeks shy of her sixteenth birthday, with the help of the neighbors, Abby buried her father in the Harvest View Cemetery, beside his wife.

A middle-aged African American couple offered to take her in, but she couldn’t fathom the thought of living with strangers. That was the least of her worries. Someone reported to the Child Welfare Agency that a minor child had lost both parents and she was left alone. She suspected that it was the couple who reported it. Nevertheless, she was placed in a foster home.

The sixteen-year-old state ward’s lawyer petitioned the court and requested that Abby live independently of the laws that governed minors. In a partly empty courtroom, she informed the judge, at the age of thirteen, she cared for her sick mother, physically and financially. She used wages that she earned working at a restaurant.

After she was done presenting her living situation to the judge, she removed papers from her purse and handed them to the lawyer. He reviewed them briefly before handing them to the judge. The life insurance policies of her deceased parents totaled fifty thousand dollars. It became clear to the judge that she could care for herself. He granted her the right to make her own decisions and live as an adult.

Chapter Four

Three months after Antonio Palermo and Abby Christian met, a beautiful relationship blossomed, and they were married. Three years later, Antonio graduated with a degree in business administration.

Abby was a soft-spoken woman who had a passion for sewing. She set up shop in one of the back rooms in the store. There, she made and altered clothes for her friends and neighbors. The insurance policies, income from the store, and her sewing business provided them with a very comfortable lifestyle.

Several years and three babies later, the couple’s three beautiful daughters, Rebecca, Neaverna, and Samantha, whom they called Becky, Neil, and Sam for short, were behind the counter helping serve customers, or in the back room helping their mother. As time passed, the girls became major players in running a successful family business.

While the Palermo family enjoyed the better things in life, the economy presented challenges for their friends and neighbors. Antonio owned the only store in the area. People relied on him for grocery and other items. He never turned anyone away. The ones who could afford to settle their debts did so. Yet, others died owing him. In such cases, he contributed to the cost of the funeral, and their debts were paid in full.

In 1973, there was a recession, which lasted a little over two years. It was a time of an even greater despair for those who were already living in poverty. Years after the recession, poverty continued to create discord in some families. Fathers left home seeking jobs in other states. Some went as far away as Ohio, Oklahoma, Indiana, Illinois, and Michigan. Most were successful in locating jobs, and they sent money home to their families. Then there were those who abandoned their families and started new lives.

Emmanuel Kennedy woke up one morning and learned that the bottom had fallen from under his world. The construction company where he worked closed without any warning. Like many of the other struggling families, he heard that construction jobs were plentiful in Chicago. Regrettably, he packed his bags and took the bus there. Soon after he arrived, he rented a room in a cheap hotel. The next morning, he landed a job with the city, restoring historical buildings. He sent money home monthly and called his wife twice a week.

Suddenly, the money stopped, and the phone was disconnected. She wrote him letters, but all her letters were returned. Emmanuel had joined the rank of the deadbeat husbands and dads. It was as if he had dropped off the face of the earth. His wife, Colleen, was as puzzled as the other mothers were when their husbands stopped calling and sending money home. They tried to protect their children from the hurt and disappointment by telling them that their daddies became ill and passed away.

Unlike the other mothers, Colleen was more aggressive. She was determined to find out what happened to her husband. On a hot humid day in July, she bought a bus ticket to Chicago. Antonio, who was their neighbor and the couple’s friend, drove her to the bus station. Of course, she had shared with him and Abby that she was no longer in communication with her husband. Like the other mothers, she did her best to conceal the bad news from her son, Thaddeus, and daughter, Marcia Ann.

Antonio was rather concerned about her going to Chicago alone. Are you sure you want to do this? Chicago is a wicked place, and it’s not safe for you to go to a place like that alone. If you delay your trip until next week, I’ll go with you, Antonio said, trying to discourage her.

You’re probably right, but I have to know if he’s all right. This is unlike Emmanuel. Don’t worry about me. I just appreciate you driving me to the bus station. If that man is alive and well, I’m going to make him wish he was dead, she said.

Girl, don’t go over there getting into trouble. Those policemen would put a woman in jail about as quickly as they would a man, Antonio said.

She considered changing her mind, but thought about it for a moment, and said, Thanks again, I have to see this thing through.

When they arrived at the bus station, he removed her luggage from the trunk and set it on the floor beside her. I’m going to wait right here with you until the bus leaves, he said.

I’ll be all right, but I thank you for staying. She still had doubts if she was making the right decision.

Do you have a place to stay when you get there? he asked.

No. I’m going to get a room at a hotel, if I don’t find him, she said.

Take this money. I don’t want you stranded, he said, handing her fifty dollars.

Thanks, she said.

If you need me, don’t hesitate to call. He watched her board the bus, and then he left.

Around eight o’clock that night, the bus pulled into the bus station in downtown Chicago. She held a cab and requested to be taken to the address on the last letter that he wrote to her. During the ride, she checked the address on the letter, repeatedly. When the cab arrived, she checked the address again, and paid the fare. Before she set foot on the curb, the cab driver burned rubber getting out of there.

She stood near the curb and stared at the gray three-story building with the numbers 1600 written on the pole. Farewell Motel was written on the sign hanging over the front door. Sixteen hundred Blaine Street, she muttered. She was sure it was the right place.

The scent of marijuana filled her nostrils, and she thought the loud music coming from a boom box leaning against the building would split her eardrums. The men and women bodies were gyrating all over the place. They call that dancing, she thought. Seemingly they weren’t aware of her staring at them. Her knees were weak, and it felt as if her heart were going to burst right through her rib cage. If she could’ve gotten another cab right away, she would’ve left much faster than she came. She didn’t have any choice, but to follow through with her plan. So, she took a deep breath before she walked into the building.

The place wasn’t a very welcoming sight. An overstuffed brown chair set in the corner of the room. Beside it stood a lopsided table, filled with empty beer cans and wine bottles. The magazine rack was running over with old magazines. In the center of the room set another table with ashtrays filled with cigarette butts. Her home wasn’t a French chateau, but it was steps above the place where she stood, she thought.

The wooden floor squeaked as she walked across it to the front desk. The girl sitting behind the desk was popping gum and painting her fingernails. Colleen cleared her throat to get her attention.

The dark-skinned girl stared at her through one large hazel-colored eye. Her other eye was covered by a long red wig. She tossed her wig back, exposing her other large hazel-colored eye. Can I help you, sugar? she asked.

I’m sorry to interrupt you, where can I find Emmanuel Kennedy? Colleen asked.

The girl looked at her, cut her eyes toward the floor, and then back to Colleen. Room number 1-A, at the top of the stairs, first door to the right. Watch your step, sugar. It’s dark up there. Someone keeps stealing the light bulbs from the sockets.

Colleen thanked her and headed toward the stairs. She wondered why the girl looked at her so curiously. She wasn’t wearing the latest fashion, but she thought her bright yellow sundress and white wedge-heel sandals were well coordinated.

Even before she stepped into the hallway, the stale odor of cigarette and cigar smoke mixed with the smell of cheap perfume saturated her nostrils. She appreciated the front desk girl for warning her about the missing light bulbs and telling her exactly where the room was located. If she hadn’t, it probably would’ve been difficult for her to find it, because the hallway was pitch-black.

Although she didn’t see the numbers, she stood at the first door to the right. Seriously considering if she should pursue her search, she set her suitcase on the floor and composed herself. She heard loud music coming from the room. So she proceeded to knock on the door, rather hard, and persistently.

The door opened abruptly, light flooded the hallway, and so did the loud music. A woman wearing an elegant black see-through nightgown stood staring at her. The cigarette hanging from the side of her mouth had almost burned to the filter. Her eyes were half closed as she tried to prevent the smoke from getting into them. She removed the cigarette from her mouth. What do you want? she asked.

Colleen could barely hear her over the loud music. She thought that she was at the wrong room. Before she had the opportunity to speak, she heard Emmanuel’s voice asking who was at the door. He never expected to see his wife in Chicago. She had never been out of Louisiana until she met and married him and moved to Missouri. This certainly was the first time she had ever been out of the state of Missouri.

Colleen was about five feet, seven inches tall. She looked very much like the model type with her thin shapely body and long brown hair pulled back in a ball. The attractive Creole woman could’ve been easily mistaken as a Caucasian.

Staring back at the woman, and listening to the sound of her husband’s voice, she thought about their young son who was trying to play the role of the father, and their ailing daughter who was born with multiple sclerosis. To top it all off, the handsome soldier that she fell in love with and married had left her for another woman.

Born in the state of Vermont, Emmanuel was of Swedish descent. His parents abandoned him when he was an infant. He was raised by his maternal aunt who passed away the year he turned eighteen, leaving him homeless. Since he was of legal age, he enlisted in the Navy.

She recalled the weekend that they met. Dressed in a blue uniform, and carrying an overnight bag, the handsome green-eyed soldier walked into the Piggy Wiggly Super Market where she worked as a checkout girl and bought a loaf of bread. During the three-week leave, they fell madly in love. The whirlwind relationship swept her off her feet. They were married before he was shipped off to Germany.

Two months later, he received a letter from his new bride that she was expecting. The young soldier went AWOL. He arrived back in New Orleans and got a job at a trucking company. Two months later he was court-martialed and spent ten months in the stockade.

Given a dishonorable discharge, the handsome ex-soldier returned home to his wife and daughter, fifteen pounds lighter and totally broke. Since he wasn’t allowed to receive any communication while incarcerated, he didn’t learn of his daughter’s disability until he arrived home.

The perky six-month-old struggled to hold her head up. As her head flopped to the side, she smiled at her father. Three years later came their son, Thaddeus. Long gone was that time, but the memories were still fresh in her mind.

Holding a drink in his hand and only wearing pajama bottoms, Emmanuel joined the woman at the door. Colleen was thrown into a fit of rage when she saw her husband standing beside the woman. She leaped up on the 6-foot-3, 230-pound muscular man, wrapped her legs around his waist, and her hands around his neck. Her grip was so tight, even a man of his size and strength had difficulty trying to free himself.

Unable to breathe, his eyes had begun to bulge, and he was losing consciousness. He fell to the floor, and she fell on top of him, still choking him.

Momentarily, the scene paralyzed the woman. It seemed as if her feet were glued to the floor. Emmanuel was on the verge of death, by the bare hands of his wife. Suddenly, the woman screamed, I’m calling the police!

Her threat derailed Colleen’s train of thought. She stopped choking her husband, looked at the woman, and said, Lady, go on and call the police, because when I’m done whipping his ass, you’re next.

Then she punched Emmanuel in the face with her fist. How dare you to abandon us! she yelled.

Still struggling to get his breath, he whispered, Colleen, I can explain.

Explain this, she said, and kneed him in the balls.

We’re engaged to be married. The ring is on layaway, the woman said, as if it would stop Colleen from beating up her husband.

You’re sadly mistaken, if you think this man is going to marry you. He’s my husband and the father of our two children, Colleen told the woman.

Yada, yada, yada. I don’t want to hear this shit. Girl, please, she ranted.

Exasperated, Colleen gave the woman a thoughtful look, and said, If you say another word, I’ll throw your ass out of the window and tell the police that you jumped. Then she yanked the gown off the woman’s body and held it in the air. This is proof that I tried to save your ass, she added.

Naked as the day she was born, the woman picked up a paring knife from the table. I’ll kill you, bitch, she said.

Colleen picked up a metal-base lamp. Bring it, bitch, she said.

The woman’s must’ve realized that she was on the losing end of the fight. Fear drowned her courage. She threw the knife at Colleen and fled toward the bedroom. Before she reached the bedroom, Colleen hits her on the back of the head with the lamp. The woman fell to the floor. She grabbed the woman’s hair and dragged her across the floor, knocking over furniture and breaking items. Somehow the woman slipped out of her grip, ran into the bedroom, and locked the door. Colleen banged on the door until she realized that it was a waste of time. Still furious as hell, she struck Emmanuel on the head with the lamp.

By the time police arrived, the place looked like a hurricane had hit it. Overturned furniture littered the floor, there were large holes in the walls, and Emmanuel looked as if he had been in the eye of a storm. His lips were swollen, contusions on his forehead, and blood was oozing from the hole on the side of his head, where she had hit him with the lamp.

When she learned that the police had arrived, the woman emerged from the bedroom. Arrest her, officer! She tried to kill us! She was determined to escalate the matter, to make things work in her favor. Her plan fell, miserably.

After the officers heard the threesome stories, one officer commented, I should’ve known you would be at the center of this mess. Harriette Mason, what’re you doing in Chicago? Didn’t we ask you not to come back here?

Instead of answering the officer’s questions, she asked, So you’re not gonna arrest this home wrecker?

Yes, we are, the officer said, as he placed her in handcuffs. This woman has been kicked out of every state in this country and Canada. How did you get hooked up with her? the officer asked Emmanuel.

Emmanuel didn’t respond. Instead, he dropped his head in embarrassment.

Sir, I suggest that you seek medical attention. After you see the doctor, get the hell out of Chicago. If I ever catch you here again, you’re gonna get a personal ass whipping from me. Lady, you can leave with or without him, just go or you’ll get the same. The officer warned them.

Leaving Emmanuel behind, Colleen took the bus home. She got a job as a checkout girl, at the Piggy Wiggly Super Market. Daily, her neighbor and friend Dellarosa Mancina came through her line on her lunch break to update her on the latest gossip regarding the missing husbands.

When the neighborhoods’ children got wind of the gossip, they laughed at Thad and teased him. He painfully endured their harsh remarks, and then threatened to rip up their textbooks. He knew that they would be in deep trouble, because their parents didn’t have money to replace schoolbooks. Most of the teasing ceased, but not immediately.

Chapter Five

Emmanuel’s letters of apology and phone calls to his wife went unanswered. On Sunday morning, three weeks after the big blowup, the bus pulled into the station in downtown Jefferson City. Humiliated and brokenhearted, Emmanuel returned home. Home sweet home wasn’t how he remembered it. He didn’t see any familiar faces, and where was the welcoming sign? Carrying his suitcase, he walked down a street where most of the buildings were vacant. He spotted a dim light on the top floor of a run-down hotel, on the border of Harvest View. It must’ve been the only one that was still in business, he thought. For the time being, the place became his home.

He had always taken courses here and there at the University of Missouri. He reenrolled, applied for the architecture program, and was accepted. The money he earned doing odd jobs put food on the table, helped in supporting his family, and paid for his classes. Of course, the talk of missing fathers was still a strong conversation among the gossipers. Eager to put the nasty rumor behind him, Emmanuel continued to be a devoted father and friend. Being reunited with his family would never happen, he thought.

The years passed swiftly. It was a time to rejoice, because now he held a degree in architecture. Early weekday mornings, he went job hunting in the city. Things didn’t go as smoothly as he thought they would. The large companies were impressed by his résumé, but they didn’t seem to be too thrilled to hire a fair-skinned African American man with green eyes and brown hair.

After many rejections, he reached the conclusion that he was facing blatant race discrimination. His views changed regarding the workforce. Giving away his skills and ideas wasn’t an option. Working for other people only made them richer. Owning his own business would be ideal, he thought.

As a struggling architectural designer, he applied for loans at several banks. He was told that his house and two vacant lots as collateral didn’t qualify him for any loan. It didn’t take a scholar to figure out that the companies that he had approached for jobs and loans. For years, the owners of those companies had been trying to buy property in Harvest View. He thought that they would’ve jumped at the opportunity to hire him. It certainly would’ve been a sure way of getting a foot in the door. Instead, they slammed the door in his face.

Emmanuel took on extra odd jobs. Then he came up with the idea of remodeling the family home. He presented his idea to Antonio. They joined forces and decided to establish their own business. Antonio invested part of his savings and mortgaged the store.

First, they remodeled Emmanuel’s home. When they were done adding a family room, office, sunroom, recreation room, and turning the attic into a living area for Thad, the family home turned into a six-thousand-square-foot mansion, valued over one million dollars.

After they had run out of things to build, they added a few new additions to the Palermo home. Dellarosa had bought a fixer-upper. Antonio and Emmanuel turned her home into a mansion. They built guesthouses behind all three homes. Suddenly, their homes were viewed as model homes.

Emmanuel joked with his wife about accepting him back, after years of separation. No one would know he was there, because he could live in the basement, happily. The basement was a magnificent home within a home. Basically, they added a men’s den. After watching her husband working around the clock, she asked him to come home.

News of new homes being built in Harvest View had reached the big companies and bank owners. They came to Harvest View by the carloads. Some assembled outside the Kennedy home, while others docked outside the Palermo and the Mancina homes. One man had the audacity to get out of his car and stick his business cards in the Kennedy’s front door.

Emmanuel was getting invitations from the businessmen association to join them for luncheons, business meetings, conventions, and sporting events. After he turned down their invitations, they offered him a job making over six figures a year. Angrily, he refused.

After they saw how the banks and company owners reacted to their remodeled homes, they bought several vacant buildings, including the hotel where Emmanuel once lived. Although the buildings had been neglected for many years, the structures were solid. They lacked the funds to renovate all the buildings. To generate funds, they remodeled and renovated several key areas in one large building. Then they rented space to vendors.

Before long, boutiques, beauty parlors, health spas, and other businesses began to pop up. Their business grew rapidly. They hired their friends and neighbors to keep up with the demands for space. The girls, Abby, and Mr. Sandalvor, who was an old drifter they had taken a liking to, ran the store. Colleen gave up her job at the Piggy Wiggly Super Market and joined the company. She was given the prestigious job as their buyer.

Dellarosa was a single mother, who moved from Chicago to Harvest View with her fifteen-month-old son, Joseph. Originally from New York, people often mistook the beautiful five-foot-nine part-Mexican, part-African American woman to be Cuban or Puerto Rican. She was quick to set them straight on her ethnicity. Close friend to the Kennedy and Palermo families, she did an excellent job keeping books for the Kennedy and Palermo Architectural Designs Company. Prior to that, she worked at a cleaner where she could barely make ends meet. Now she was making lots of money.

Chapter Six

Seemingly, the people who lived across the railroad tracks stayed in the recession, long after it was over. Most of them continued to struggle to meet their basic needs. Ratty Boy was a kid who lived across the railroad tracks with his mother. A mild-mannered and lovable child, he attended school with the rest of the neighborhood children. The poor kid clung to Joseph and Thad and the Palermo girls like a rubber glove. Perhaps it was because they defended him when Karen bullied him.

Karen Shaw was known as the school bully. She had been nothing but trouble since the first day her parents enrolled her in Harvest View Elementary School. The chubby brown-skinned girl with a big fluffy Afro puff on top of her head had been suspended from all the schools in the city. News of her behavior had even reached schools in the suburbs. At the mere mentioning of her name, they denied her admission, which was why she ended up at Harvest View. It was her last chance to attend school in the county where the family lived.

Daily, she picked fights with peers in the classroom and during lunch breaks. She labeled Ratty Boy as a misfit and teased him about his too small raggedy clothes and shoes, and long shaggy dirty hair, as he wasn’t nearly as fortunate as the poorest family.

Karen must’ve been in trouble at home because she was meaner than usual that morning. Ratty Boy was the target of her brutality, and she was determined to torment him mercilessly. She started by throwing food on the ground and demanding that he get down on his knees and eat it. After he refused, she shoved him on the ground, and rubbed his face in it. Gail Santana and Sadie Gilroy were her cronies. They witnessed the entire incident but did absolutely nothing to stop it. They were afraid Karen would retaliate against them.

Becky intervened. A few aggressive words progressed to a physical altercation. Things went terribly wrong for Karen, and she lost the fight. The rubber band that held her Afro puff together was missing, her hair was all over her head, and her dress was torn. The little drama queen turned on the fake tears when she learned that the principal had contacted her parents.

Her mother, Jennabee, owned a beauty parlor in the city. Her father, Lester, was a bus driver for the Jefferson City Transportation Department. They were at the school within minutes. Jennabee was carrying on as if her precious daughter was standing in front of a firing squad, and triggers were about to be pulled. The principal disregarded her dramatic presentation and warned her that Karen would be suspended, indefinitely, if her behavior didn’t change.

Jennabee didn’t say another word. Her husband cleared his throat as if he wanted to say something, but when she gave him the evil eye, he remained quiet. She knew that they had run out of options regarding her daughter being educated in the public and private schools. It was either move to another county, or home school.

Becky’s parents always responded to the principal’s phone calls, but Ratty Boy’s mother never came. Gail’s and Sadie’s parents practically lived at the school, but this time, they didn’t show. When the principal questioned the girls about what happened, they lied to protect Karen. They didn’t give Ratty Boy the opportunity to tell his side of the story. Instead, they treated him as if he was a criminal.

Mr. Palermo threatened to take legal action against the school, if they didn’t change their discriminatory behavior toward the child. His diplomatic approach resulted in jaws tightening and changing attitudes.

By the time the heated discussion ended, the school day was almost over. Mr. Palermo didn’t wait for the bell to ring. Instead, he requested that the girls be excused. Since Ratty Boy’s mother didn’t come, he asked if he could be excused, too. The teacher refused to release the child to him.

Mr. Palermo decided to wait until school was over for the day. Then he would drive the child home. Becky stood outside the schoolhouse door and waited for him. When Ratty Boy walked outside, she grabbed his hand and they got into the car.

Following the child’s directions, the house that he went to looked unlivable. The windows were boarded up, and the yard was littered with cans and bottles. Ratty Boy got out of the car, ran up the steps, and knocked on the door. Since no one opened the door, obviously, they thought no one was home. Whether she was home or not, Ratty Boy knew that his mother always left the door unlocked for him. The kid was just plain tired of coming home to an empty house.

Mr. Palermo didn’t have any choice but to take the child home with them, which was what Ratty Boy wanted. He thought if he went home with them, at least he would get a decent meal. The poor child missed lunch, and the piece of bread he ate for breakfast that morning wasn’t enough to last the full day.

Abby always had dinner ready when the girls came home from school. Routinely, they changed into their playclothes before dinner. They were excited that they had company and neglected to change their clothes. Quickly, they washed their hands and sat at the table. Ratty Boy watched the girls closely and imitated every move that they made. He wanted to be sure that he exhibited appropriate manners. When they said grace, he folded his hands and bowed his head.

He had second and third helpings of food. As he ate, he kept an eye on the rest of the food on the table. Mr. Palermo told him he could have as much food as he wanted. His small tan hand reached across the table for more cornbread. When dinner was over, they played games in the backyard.

We don’t have any boys’ toys, because it’s only us girls. You want to play jump rope? Neil asked, pulling her red rope from the toy box.

He had never played jump rope before. Nodding his head yes, he held the other end of the rope and turned it as Sam jumped in.

When Mr. Palermo told him that it was time to go home, a sad look rolled across his face. Thank you for having me. I’m sure my mom thanks you too, he said.

Abby saw that he was a well-mannered and highly intelligent child. However, she thought his politeness was overemphasized. He didn’t have to do or say anything extra, because his presentation alone was enough to win any mother’s heart. Something wasn’t quite right, she kept thinking.

As they left to get into the car, Neil ran back into the kitchen and whispered to her mother, Mom, can Ratty Boy take home some food? He’s hungry all the time. We have been sharing our lunch money with him, but today Karen was picking on him, and he missed lunch.

Of course, he can. Why didn’t you tell me this sooner? Abby said.

I didn’t think it mattered, because we share our lunch money with him, she rationalized.

Abby gave her a hug, and said, Momma is not scolding you. I’m very proud of you. She prepared a hefty take-home bag for the child.

Becky and Sam fought over who was going to sit on the front seat. Ratty Boy didn’t understand why they were making such a big commotion. He was just happy to be there. He opened the backdoor for Neil. She got in, and he crawled in behind her.

Antonio drove back across the railroad tracks. Seemingly, nothing had changed. The small dilapidated house still looked empty. Surprisingly, when Ratty Boy walked up the steps, the door just popped open. They didn’t see anyone. He looked back at them and waved before he went inside.

His real name was Jeremy Browriskyzcoff. His mother, Nadia, was three years old when her mother fled from Russia, seeking asylum in any country that would accept them. Employed by the Russian government, her mother, Hagar Browriskyzcoff was caught sharing classified information with North Korean soldiers.

Facing imprisonment, Hagar Browriskyzcoff and little Nadia hid under a porch to elude authorities. The homeowner found them and called authorities. They were taken to a camp where they punish people who broke the law.

She held her daughter close to her as they slept on the ground. In the middle of the night, she was awoken by large trucks. She watched as they unloaded a group of people bonded together with ropes. When no one was looking, Hagar and her daughter got on the back of one of the trucks. She covered themselves with a big gray heavy tarp.

It was early morning when she noticed that the truck had stopped moving. She peeped from under the tarp and discovered that they were at a shipyard. Several ships were docked, and men were loading them with large barrels. Carrying her daughter in her arms, Hagar stepped off the truck and snuck on the ship. She learned that the ship was carrying barrels of oil. United States was written on the barrels.

Two days later, they were in Saudi Arabia. Hiding behind barrels of oil, they remained on the ship. Hungry and thirsty, late at night when she thought it was safe, Hagar stumbled upon the galley and restroom. The refrigerator was filled with juice and sandwiches. She took several bottles of juice and as many sandwiches she could carry and hid back behind the barrels of oil.

She didn’t know where they were or how long they had been traveling before the ship stopped again. She assumed that they had reached their destination because the men got off the ship and loaded barrels onto trucks parked near the dock. As the men was busy loading the trucks, Hagar managed to find an exit at the front of the ship and got off. They were in the city of New York. Hagar and her daughter walked the streets by day, stealing food and clothes. At night, they slept in vacant buildings.

As time passed, they mixed into the melting pot of people, and fell through the cracks of society. She changed her name to Madam DuSain and became a real all-American girl. Capturing her dream, she established her own floating business, which took her from city to city, and eventually, state to state.

No longer a three-year-old huddling behind barrels of oil, Nadia was now an adult with a son to care for. Just as she told him the story of their journey to America, she told him that his father was an African American soldier. He was killed while serving his country.

She left him home alone, frequently. The little champ got up early, dressed himself, and ate whatever food he could find in the kitchen. He rarely missed a day of school. Sometimes, he went to school sporting black eyes and bruises on his arms. He was quick to tell the teachers that he walked into a door or fell off the bed.

Despite his dysfunctional and chaotic home living environment, amazingly, his academic performance was excellent. He was very generous about helping others, and always kept a positive attitude. Most of his peers were ashamed to ask him for help, because they were the very ones who emotionally and physically abused him. Joseph and Thad didn’t have any problems asking him for help. The three boys formed a study group at a young age, and they formed a bond that was so close, peers became jealous of them.

Chapter Seven

Ratty Boy’s situation reached a climax when a whole week passed, and he hadn’t seen or heard from his mother. It wasn’t unusual for her to stay out a couple of nights in a row, but it was unlike her to be gone a whole week. Tired of staying in a house without food, water, lights, and heat, out of desperation he wrote a note to Dellarosa and asked if he could spend the weekend with Joseph. He signed his mother’s name. Undoubtedly, this was the beginning of an unforgettable turn of events in the life of the little wizard of words.

Joseph told Thad and the girls in secret about the note. Then he asked his mother if he could invite them over for dinner. Carefully, he planned things so Ratty Boy would think that they just happened to drop in.

While Ratty Boy was eager to take a bath, Dellarosa had to physically force Joseph into the bathtub. Then she threatened to punish him if he didn’t wash himself. Neatly dressed in one of Joseph’s outfits, Ratty Boy was so excited; he couldn’t stop looking at himself in the mirror.

When Thad and the girls arrived, they acted as if they were surprised to see him. A very courteous and appreciative child, he greeted them with a hug. In his mind, he imagined what it would be like if this was his family and he was inviting friends over for dinner.

Already exhausted from doing paperwork and handling phone calls from customers, suddenly, Dellarosa had six hungry children in her home waiting eagerly for dinner. Cooking was out of the question. She ordered pizza, which was the children’s favorite food. While everyone was waiting to be served, Jeremy was right there to assist her. Like Abby, she thought he was the most polite child that she had ever met.

It was now late Sunday evening, and she hadn’t heard from the child’s mother. His mother didn’t have a telephone. So she left the boys home, and drove to her house. She knocked on the door repeatedly, but no one answered. At that point, she was glad that she didn’t bring him with her. She imagined he would’ve been disappointed to come home to an empty house after being gone the entire weekend. She left a note sticking in the door.

As she was walking back to her car, she saw the curtains open on the front window at the house next door. She didn’t see a soul, but she knew someone was watching her. Maybe someone there knew how to reach the child’s mother. She thought about knocking on the door, but her thought vanished when she saw the curtains close. When she returned home, she tried to soften the blow by telling the child that he could stay with them until his mother comes for him.

Monday morning came, and she still hadn’t heard from his mother. She fixed breakfast for the boys and dropped them off at school. Instead of going to work, she drove back to his mother’s house. Again, no one answered the door.

As she was leaving, she saw the face of a woman in the front window next door. Baffled, she stood in the driveway, unsure of what to do. She decided to knock on the door. As she walked up the steps, an old African American woman opened the door. She looked at Dellarosa suspiciously but didn’t speak. Breaking the silence, Dellarosa introduced herself, and then asked her if she had seen the woman who lives next door. Although her name was written on the note, she felt silly asking about a woman that she didn’t even remember her name.

The old woman looked over Dellarosa’s shoulder, and asked, You ain’t them people from the state, is you? She assured her that she wasn’t.

Too bad you ain’t them state people. This got something to do with that boy, ain’t it? She continued to ask questions.

I’m looking for the woman who lives next door. Have you seen her? Dellarosa asked again. She was careful not to say too much, because she didn’t trust the woman. It was obvious that the woman didn’t trust her, either.

That old man in the back room told me not to talk to anyone about the boy, she said, and stepped away from the door. Then she walked a few steps and peeped in another room.

Who are you talking about? Dellarosa asked.

I’m talking about that old black man who calls himself my husband. He always got his lips flapping about something. I declare, I can hear his voice in my sleep. He’s going to drive me to drinking alcohol and smoking dope. I’m gonna tell you this, but I ain’t gonna tell nobody else, she said, and peeped in the room again. That woman leaves the child home alone all the time. I saw him Friday morning when he left. I guess he went to school. I ain’t seen him since.

If you see her, would you call me? Dellarosa asked and handed the woman her phone number.

She put the number in her pocket. I sure hope the child is all right. She half feeds the poor thing, and I’ve never known them to have running water and electricity for any length of time. I can say one thing about that boy. He’s a spunky little thing, and he got lots of pride too. He never asked anyone for food. I tried to help him out by putting a little something extra in the garbage can, since he goes through it all the time, she rambled on.

Disgusted by the woman’s non-caring attitude, Dellarosa couldn’t bear to hear anymore. That stupid woman could’ve done something to help the child. What the hell kind of person is she? she said aloud, as she walked back to her car.

One time I wanted to adopt a child, because the poor thing didn’t have nobody. The people around here said that her father drink himself to death, after his wife died. She was a beautiful girl. That child had a head full of long black pretty hair. You don’t see black girls with hair like that. She must’ve been mixed with some white folks or them Indians. Anyway, she wouldn’t go with me. The last I heard, the people from the state took her. Oh, I’m Ozzie Mae Davis, and that old black man in the back room is Delta. Although Dellarosa was gone, the woman kept talking as if she were still there.

Tears rolled down her face and lapped under her chin, as she tried to compose herself. Instead of going to work, she went shopping for the boys. Walking around the mall half dazed, she had forgotten why she was there. Reality set in when she saw