With slow deliberation, Curtis took Shirley's arms from around his neck. "Okay, honey, you know where that leads. And don't forget the kids are home today, too." Curtis grinned at her as she tossed him a mock frown. Their relationship was too good to believe. That was one of the reasons he didn't trust it. A man couldn't hope to remain as happy with a woman as he was. Something had to happen.
"Okay, Curtis, you don't have to say it; I can see it in you only too well," Shirley said. "I know, you've got to go somewhere, haven't you?"
"Now, woman, I don't know why you think like that. But since you brought the matter up, yes, I think I'll make a little run while you unpack the suitcases."
"Oh, Curt, I've got to go back down to the car, honey. I left that overnight bag on the rear floorboard."
Curtis smiled at her. "Okay, girl, it ain't no problem. You come on downstairs with me. The kids will be all right here. I'll get the bag out for you and you can bring it back upstairs yourself."
"Okay," she said in a light voice. "Curtis," she said as they started back down the stairway, "please, honey, be careful." The gun he was carrying pressed against her each time she kissed him, so it was constantly on her mind. Guns were something she was frightened of, yet her fear of them could be controlled. What she hated most was to see him carrying one. At one time it was not necessary for him to go out into the streets armed. But lately, everything had changed.
When Shirley spoke, her voice didn't reveal the fear that she felt. "Okay, Curtis, since you want to treat us mean by leaving, don't expect to find any of your favorite dishes waiting for you whenever you feel like blessing us with your company!"
Curtis just grinned at her, then opened the door and led the way out of the apartment. Neither of them spoke as they went down the stairway. Shirley was too busy admiring the rubber plants that were placed around the patio and swimming pool. They gave one the impression of the tropics. They blended well with the natural flowers and other plants.
"Honey, how long do you think it's really going to be before you get back?" Shirley inquired as she pulled her light sweater around her shoulders. The evening was becoming chilly.
Before opening the car door, Curtis took her into his arms and kissed her slowly. There was nothing else to be said, he realized. He was only stalling. It seemed as if lately, for some reason that he couldn't understand, he hated to part from her company. Normally he hated to leave her, but lately it was even worse.
"Hey, Shirley, what you doin' to me? I ain't able to take care of my business for you. Here I am wantin' to go back upstairs with you, when I know all the time that I've got to get off my ass and go and take care of this business."
Shirley tugged at him, playfully trying to take him back towards the stairs. The two laughed like young children and finally broke their embrace. Curtis removed his key ring and gave her two keys. "Here, if I leave and forget to give you your keys, you'll end up being locked out!"
As she took the keys from his hand, Curtis turned and opened the car door. "Don't worry, honey, it ain't goin' be that long. Before you know it, I'll be running up the steps."
"I hope so," Shirley replied as she stepped back away from the car. She stood and watched him back the car out into the street. Even after Curtis had driven away, she stood where he had left her, staring after the car.
Curtis reached down and switched on his radio. As soon as a rock and roll number ended, the news came on. Curtis didn't pay much attention to it until the announcer mentioned the shooting that had taken place on the east side of town. When the newsman mentioned the housing duplex, Curtis knew at once that it involved Fat George.
The newscaster began to relate the murders, telling about the man and woman found stabbed to death and how three Mexicans ran when police appeared on the scene. After a few seconds, the announcer mentioned the name of the couple killed.
Curtis sat straight up behind his steering wheel. He couldn't believe his ears. Why, the question exploded in his mind, why the hell would they kill Fat George? Curtis leaned over and turned the radio up louder. He didn't want to miss a word of what was being said. A slow frown of disbelief flashed across his face. This was complete madness, Curtis reflected. The killing didn't make any kind of sense.
As he listened, the radio announcer began to give out the names of the men who were believed to have been the killers. The man told that they were killed as they tried to avoid the policemen when the police tried to arrest them.
Curtis sat in stunned silence as the names came out on the radio. Emilio Fernandez, Pedro Fernandez, the broadcaster continued. But Curtis' mind was busy elsewhere now. He knew every one of the men, yet he couldn't make any sense out of it. The Fernandez brothers didn't have any reason to kill Fat George. At least he didn't think so. The men had always been fairly close friends.
The full implications of the announcement were not lost on Curtis. If both the Fernandez brothers were now dead, it took all the worry off his back. He didn't have to fear any reprisals now because there was nobody to carry out the threat. His little war with the Chicanos was over-finished.
There was no need to hide his people now. He didn't have to live in fear of something happening to them. By the same token, his friend Dan didn't have anything else to fear either. But on that score, Curtis thought he'd have to give it a little time to sink in. Think on the matter more deeply. At least now there wasn't the urgency that there had been before.
14
BEFORE HE KNEW IT, Curtis found himself parking in front of his mother's home. If it hadn't been for his sister Rita standing outside talking to a young boy on a bike, he would have pulled right back off. The last person he actually wanted to see was his mother. He didn't want to allow her the chance of spoiling his good mood.
His tall, attractive sister beckoned to him. Curtis got out of his car and walked over to the young couple. "Hey, what it is?" he yelled out as he approached.
Rita gave him a big mouth-splitting grin. "It's a good thing you stopped by, Curt, 'cause I was just gettin' ready to try callin' you. I know hard tasks when I see them, and trying to find you over the telephone is a sure 'nuff hard task!"
Curtis laughed good-naturedly along with her, then asked seriously, "Well, just what is the big problem, sis, that would take you away from your enjoyable young man here to seek me out?"
"He happens to be the reason why," she answered quickly. "He said you said something 'bout a fiftydollar reward if he was to find out where Dan was and passed it on to you." She raised her eyebrows as though the message she was passing on didn't make any sense.
"Oh, yeah," Curtis replied as he snapped his fingers. "Now I remember. This is our paperboy, ain't he?"
Both of the young kids quickly nodded their heads in agreement.
"Uh huh," Curtis continued. "He was here a few days ago. Yeah, that's when I told him about lettin' me know if he saw Dan. Well, young brother, from the looks of you, you got some news for me, right?"
Tommie, the young newsboy, grinned, then removed from his pocket the dirty piece of paper on which he had written the address. "Yeah, man, I seen your friend Dan go into this empty house and then I wrote the number down and came riding straight over here."
Curtis took the address out of his hand. "I wonder if he's still at this goddamn place," Curtis murmured, more under his breath than to the two kids watching him.
"Why is Dan so important, Curt?" Rita asked sharply, catching his eye.
"Things like this don't concern young ladies," Curtis replied slowly, folding the paper and sticking it in his pocket.
He turned on the paperboy. "You think he's still at this place, huh?"
The paperboy answered quickly. "Uh huh. I stayed outside and watched for a while before I left and he hadn't come back out."
Without hesitating, Curtis reached in his pocket and removed his bankroll. He pulled out twenty-five dollars. "Here, I'm going to give you half of it now, and if he's still at this same place after I see him and rap with him, I'll com
e back by here and leave the rest of the money for you with Rita." Curtis held the money out to the boy.
The young newspaper boy grabbed the twenty-five dollars so fast that Curtis realized he would have been happy with just that amount.
"Now don't forget, boy," Curtis added, "if he ain't there when I get there, you ain't got a goddamn thing coming, so don't wish for the impossible."
Tommie nodded his head up and down in agreement. At the moment, he was wondering if it would be wise for him to come back. Suppose Dan had left. Then Curtis might return and wait for him to show up so that he could get his twenty-five dollars back.
As Curtis watched the expressions on the kid's face, he could almost read his thoughts. He knew that he wouldn't have to put out another twenty-five dol lars that evening. The boy was too happy with what he had.
"Now, if you want to," Curtis said, testing the boy, "you can ride with me over to this address, and if Dan is still there, I'll give you the rest of your money." As the look of greed jumped into the boy's face, Curtis added, "but if he ain't there, you goin' have to set my twenty-five dollars back out. Now, do you want to ride over there with me?"
It didn't take long for the kid to make up his mind. "Naw, I'd like to go, but I got to finish up the rest of my paper route before it gets too dark." The boy was trying not to show his fear of being separated from the easy twenty-five dollars he had made. He was sure then that he wouldn't be coming back looking for any more money. Half of something was a whole lot better than all of nothing.
Curtis tossed his sister a big grin, then walked swiftly towards his car. He waved back at Rita once, noticing that the paperboy hadn't left for his route yet. If he stayed near Rita long enough, she'd con his young ass out of part of the money, Curtis thought coldly as he drove away from the curb.
It was only a few blocks away from where his mother stayed that Curtis had to go, but by the time he arrived, he noticed that it was really getting dark. He found the address without too much trouble.
Curtis parked two doors down from the vacant house, then walked slowly back to it. When he reached his destination, he walked around the house and examined it closely. He noticed where Dan had entered, but there was no way for him to tell whether or not Dan had flown the coop.
As he approached the rear door, he felt in his coat and was glad of the heavy bulge of the pistol. He stopped and wondered idly why he should waste the time going through with it. It wasn't actually Dan's fault that the Mexicans had struck at his brother. It was just one of those things that nobody could have prevented. What sat so hard on his shoulders though was the way Dan had used him. It was hard to forget how the man had put him on front street. If Curtis would have had a weapon that night in the bar, he would have done the same thing that Ruben did.
As soon as he reached the back door, he saw that the only way inside was under the boards that had been removed.
Curtis raised his voice and called out, "Hey, Dan, 1 know you're in there. Come on out; I want to talk to you. This is Curtis, man, so come on out."
His voice fell on silence. There was no answer to his call. As he stood outside in the darkness, Curtis began to wonder if Dan was really inside the vacant house. Suddenly he heard a sound from inside the building. He was sure it was made by someone moving around. The thought of Dan inside hiding from his only friend enraged Curtis. He tossed caution to the wind, got down on his knees and started under the boards.
Inside the house Dan huddled near the back door. He was so loaded that he couldn't believe Curtis had come alone. He had to have them Mexicans hidden outside somewhere, Dan believed. As soon as he had seen the shadow of the man on the back porch, he had removed his knife.
The voice came to him again. "Dan, this is Curt, man, I'm coming in."
Dan could feel his knees beginning to shake. The drugs had him so loaded that he couldn't think straight. He shook his head. Curtis' name went through his mind, but before he could really clear the cobwebs, the shadow came under the door. He saw Curtis' broad back on the floor. He reacted before giving it any more thought. He leaned down and plunged the knife into the middle of Curtis' back.
Curtis must have realized what was going on because he instantly twisted his body trying to get over on his side.
Curtis realized his error before he was under the boards. He should have slid in on his back so that he could see whatever there was to see. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something and tried to twist around. Before he could quite make it, he felt the pain explode in his back and he knew that he had been stabbed.
"Goddamn you, Dan," Curtis cursed from the floor as he twisted wildly, trying to escape from the plunging knife.
The sound of his name caused Dan to hesitate. He realized at that moment that he had stabbed his partner and friend. "Curt," he mumbled, as the man on the floor rolled over on his side, "man, I didn't know it was you, Curt," Dan said dumbfounded.
Whatever he said didn't matter to the man on the floor anymore. Curtis had finally managed to remove his pistol from the shoulder holster. He raised up slightly and pointed the short-barreled .38 special up at the man standing over him. The first shot took Dan between the legs, blowing his nuts off. The second shot caught him high in the chest.
Not a sound escaped from Dan as the bullets struck him. The shots had taken him by surprise. As he fell back against the wall, another slug caught him, but it was a wasted bullet. The first one had done the trick. The second one only put an end to the man's suffering. Dan never even felt the third as his lifeless body began its fall.
Curtis rolled completely over and tried to stand up, but it was no use. The knife had struck him on the spine. He had no control of his legs anymore. As he began to pull himself along, he tried to turn around and crawl back out the way he had come, but the pain was too much. He slipped into the dark pit of unconsciousness. When he awoke, it was pitch dark in the small house. The only thing he could see were two shiny little red balls that seemed to be moving around the wall.
Curtis tried to move his hands. After much effort he removed some matches from his pocket and struck one. From the light of the match, he let out a scream of pure terror. He saw Dan's body in the flame of the match, but that wasn't what frightened him. The body was covered with rats. The house had been vacant so long that the huge alley rats had moved in. And now they were lucky enough to find dinner delivered to them.
At the sound of Curtis' voice, the rats scrambled away from the body. But in seconds they were back. After an hour of trying to scream at them, Curtis found his voice going. He raised his pistol and fired wildly until there were no more shells in the gun. He prayed that someone would hear the gunshots and call the police.
After another hour passed, Curtis was too shocked to feel one of the furry little rodents sniffing at his leg. He had no way of knowing how long the rats had been near his leg because there was no feeling in them.
As he lay there with the cold evening chill setting in, Curtis could feel himself growing weaker. He tried to fight off the lightheadedness that overcame him but still found himself drifting off. He instantly came awake when he felt something wet touch his face. At once he began to beat around his stomach and back where he could feel the blood beginning to run freely again. Curtis felt around until he found the matches he had dropped and then he lit one. His first reaction was to panic when he saw the small teeth marks on his bare hands. He realized that he had been unconscious longer than he had thought.
With superman strength, he began to try to pull himself back toward the door. But after a while, he had to stop and strike a match to see if he was going in the right direction. Panic set in when he couldn't find the door, but after another lit match he saw that it was behind him. Before he could crawl to the door, he passed out again. When he awoke he finally began to realize what he hadn't known until that moment. Fresh blood was trickling down from his neck, and he understood why the rats didn't run from him anymore.
Now they only waited out of the reac
h of his hands. Once when he struck out at one of them, the rat jumped on his hand and bit it. With a scream of rage, he slammed the rodent against the nearest wall.
It dawned on Curtis then that the alley rats knew what he was just now beginning to understand. He didn't have the strength to make it. And they planned on hindering his efforts. He started to crawl again, but this time it was useless. The crawling took all his strength. He felt lightheadedness overcoming him again and knew that he was about to pass out.
He glared around. It seemed as if there were thousands of eyes staring at him now. Even as the darkness rushed toward him, Curtis let out one more scream of panic. He fell into a dark oblivion and didn't see the small furry creatures as they began their cautious approach.
Donald Goines
SPECIAL PREVIEW
DEATH LIST
This excerpt from Death List will introduce you to Kenyatta, the black ganglord with his army of brothers, intent on ridding their people of the deadly dope dealers preying upon them. Death List is the second book in the four-part Kenyatta series, and the blackand-white detective team of Benson and Ryan are still out to catch up with Kenyatta and his men. This time Kenyatta has got his hands on a list of the dope dealers, including the top man, and he is out to kill each and every one on the list before the cops get him.
I
THE TWO DETECTIVES had been sitting in their office at the downtown police precinct since early morning, waiting for one phone call. When the telephone finally rang, both men leaped to their feet. The black officer beat his white partner to the phone. He winked at his friend, letting him know that this was the call they had been waiting for.
The tall, chisel-faced white man walked back to his old beat-up desk and sat down. Detective Ryan drummed his fingers on the top of the well-scarred desk as he waited impatiently for the call to come to an end.
Cry Revenge (Holloway House Originals) Page 14
