Tag Archives: Jean Kravitz

Gabriel sat quietly in the bushes by the Pastor’s house for several hours, waiting and watching. Finally, the kerosene lamp was turned off. Gabriel followed the flickering light of one lone candle as it left the study and disappeared through an adjoining door. 

Gabriel continued to bide his time. Hours went by, but finally he emerged, dressed in dark shabby clothes, a cap pulled low over his eyes. Making sure he left no footprints, he approached the house. He had spent days watching the pastor’s activity. To get inside the house, he posed as one more hungry rebel, calling when he knew the pastor was not home. 

“Might there be somethin’ in yer fine home that needs fixin’? I work fer food or money.” He shifted his feet pathetically. “I got me an ailin’ wife and four young uns at home.” 

Mrs. Bell, one of the pastor’s white, long-time congregants, shook her head. “No, there’s nothing here for you to do. But come in, and I’ll see if I can’t find something for you to take home to your wife.” 

“God’s blessin’ be upon ya, ma’am, fer yer Christian charity.” Mrs. Bell ushered him into the pastor’s home and motioned him to sit on a bench in the hallway. She headed for the kitchen. 

Once Gabriel heard her in the back, he rose from the bench. It was a small, one-story structure, simple in its layout. The pastor’s study was the second door on Gabriel’s right, diagonal from the parlor. Gabriel entered the study, noticing a closed door. It was to the left of the pastor’s desk, whereas a window looking into the bushes was on the right. Gabriel went to the door and pushed it. There was a bed and nightstand against one wall and a bookshelf on the opposite wall. There were no windows. Gabriel’s gaze swept the room and he quickly retreated. 

He retraced his steps and sat down when Mrs. Bell reappeared with a parcel wrapped in brown paper. “Here,” she said, “some bread and molasses for your wife, and cookies for the children.” 

Gabriel stood up. “Thank ya kindly, ma’am.” 

“Your wife and family are in my prayers, sir,” said Mrs. Bell as he left the house. 

Gabriel relived that whole scenario as he eased open the front door. A fog swirled around him, a dewy shield against any witnesses. He felt his way carefully with a cane he had brought, as if he were a blind man. Tap, tap, tap, ever so softly, careful to detect any obstacles in his way. Tap, tap, tap, breach the doorway and round the corner. In his mind’s eye Gabriel could see the layout he’d canvassed just days before. 

He reached the pastor’s bedroom. Guided by the man’s soft snoring, Gabriel crept in. He had strapped a pillow under his baggy shirt; it doubled as disguise and weapon. 

Pastor Evans lay on his back, slack-jawed. He was no match for the man who stuffed the pillow so hard, so swiftly onto his face that he barely struggled. He certainly never uttered a sound.

Finally, Gabriel lifted the pillow and looked down. The man was dead, eyes wide open and mouth still agape. How unceremonious. 

Gabriel lit the candle on the nightstand and touched the flame to the pastor’s coverlet. With a snap it sprang to fiery life. 

Gabriel backed out of the room, closing the door as the flames engulfed the bed. He swiftly went to the study window, opened it, and climbed out. He then turned and closed the window; leave everything as you found it. Wiping his footprints from the dirt, he sidled to the front of the house and walked down the street. The neighbors were still asleep, oblivious to the inferno in their midst. 

He headed over to Poydras Street, to the corner of St. Charles where he had hidden a knapsack in a clump of ferns behind a rusted fleur-de-lis gate. Gabriel stepped into the shadows and when he re-emerged, his appearance was transformed. Beneath his workaday costume he had been wearing an elegant linen shirt and pants of fine wool. He now donned a pair of fake spectacles, a top hat, and a nicely cut wool jacket. 

He took his place on the street as a gentleman heading home. No questions would be asked of him. As he walked, his adrenaline began to level out and a growing satisfaction took its place. He had achieved justice for his beloved. He had made everything right.