Thrown-away Child

read the rolling script she had prepared for her “City Beat” segment.
    “Add yet another deep, dark mystery to the story 0f New Orleans.” She said this ominously. “What— or who—are M-O-M-S? It’s not what you think, it’s not about nice little ladies in checkered aprons baking cookies for when their kids come home from school. No. It’s what police investigators are asking themselves in the wake of an ugly case of murder yesterday afternoon. Now, stay with me on this…”
    “Oh, La—no, no!” Tears flooded Mama’s eyes. Ruby put an arm around her shoulders. A chill shot through Ruby as she held her mother. What is this?
    “At first glance, there’s the killing of a homeless black man—a drifter whose severely mutilated body, wedged beneath the Tchoupitoulis Street levee, was first discovered by a group of frightened children walking home from school.” Jan Flagg paused. “But the drifter had a name—Cletus Tyler—and a criminal past, here in his hometown of New Orleans. He was an ex-convict, recently turned out of Angola Prison after serving an eight-year term for armed robbery. That much is known, but little else. For starters, why was he murdered? A man with no known enemies. And the even nastier question—why was Cletus Tyler’s body branded with a red-hot poker?”
    Another dramatic pause. Then Jan Flagg reported, “Yes, you heard me—branded. After being stabbed to death. Branded like he was a sheep or a horse or a steer. What kind of psychotic murderer would first kill his victim, then afterward sear his body with burning steel? What was this brand? Did the killer want to leave some kind of sick, twisted message...?”
    Ruby thought, Here we go again—a cop job with Neil Hockaday’s name all over it. She felt sourness in her stomach.
    “Here’s where I asked you to stay with me, folks, the four letters in the brand, remember, were M-O-M-S. What do they mean? A confidential City Hall source tells me the letters stand for... Mutants, Orphans, and Misfits.”
    The studio audience gasped. Mama covered her forehead with her left hand. “Oh, La!” said Mama, as if she was about to faint. She flattened out her right hand and fanned herself. “I never did expect nothing like this from Janny, that’s the real truth! What the devil my baby be mixed up in? Sweet Jesus in heaven, please see us all to mercy!”
    The camera slowly backed away from Jan Flagg until both TV personalities on the shag carpet set came into frame. Jim seemed to be fidgeting. A stage director gave him the cue for a solemn expression.
    “That’s quite a story, Jan. Not the most appetizing report you could bring us at the breakfast hour...” The stage director was waving wildly. “But nonetheless, a story of our troubled times that I for one think we all must know, and try to understand.”
    “Well thanks, Jim.” Jan ignored the stage director. “There’s one thing more. There are no solid clues thus far, according to my source.”
    “She knows they’re after Perry,” Ruby said. “Why didn’t she mention that?”
    “Don’t you worry. Neil talk to Perry on the phone last night, and Perry—”
    “Perry called here? Is that where Hock went this morning—to see Perry?”
    “Can’t say. Neil up to something, though. I just hope it’s helpful.” Mama’s hands fell to her lap. She twisted her fingers into knots and sighed. “Oh, La! Minister Tilton, what he be thinking?”
    Back in TV land there was Jim, with relief in his voice, saying, “We’ll be back after this important message.”
    “Might’s well shut that thing off now,” Mama said-Ruby got up and switched off the television. She crossed the parlor to the front window and gazed out at Gibson Street, blindly thinking, Maybe Hock’s going to come walking up from the corner of Milton. She asked Mama, “So that’s Janny’s show nowadays?“
    “ Was Janny show more likely.” Violet shook her head. Then she put her hands on her knees and pushed herself upright. She took a few seconds to shake the stiffness from her housemaid’s legs. “Your sister, she begun to get all unexpectedly serious lately. They don’t be wanting serious colored ladies talking on the TV.”
    “I never knew Janny had so much spirit.”
    “Prob’ly Janny didn’t neither. Typical for a Negro, ’specially if she’s a girl.”
    “What are you saying, Mama?”
    “Facts of life what I’m saying. Most of us Negroes, we raised up with practically no