“You said there was plenty of work. . . .”
“There was. Joey would quit one job and get another, but it was always the same story. And even with him hating his jobs, he was always after me to quit mine.”
“Why didn’t you want to quit your job?”
“I did. You think being a waitress is a wonderful career? I always wanted a baby, ever since I was a little girl. I thought it would be so wonderful, to be a mom like mine was. Help my husband, be a family, together. But I knew if I quit my job I couldn’t make the payments on my house.”
“But when you got married, wasn’t it his job to—?”
“No!” she said, hotly. “I mean, it would have been, maybe, if I did what he wanted. Sell the house, and move into an apartment. Then Joey would have paid the rent, sure. But I wouldn’t sell my house. So he moved in there, with me.”
“What’s wrong with that? I mean, couldn’t he just as easily pay the mortgage? It would be cheaper than renting an apartment, especially right after the war.”
“He wanted to do that, too. After I put his name on the deed.”
“You did that?”
“I was going to,” Tussy said, almost apologetically. “But I was . . . I don’t know, nervous about it, kind of. So I went to see a lawyer. Mr. Gendell, he has an office right over the bank where I have my account. Everyone says he’s the best lawyer in town. He even does some things for Mr. Beaumont, that’s how important he is.
“But he turned out to be the nicest man you ever met, except for those horrible cigars he smoked. The air in his office, it was just blue. I was a little scared of him. He’s very big and he talks very loud. I wanted to know how much it would cost for him to explain the law to me. About mortgages and deeds and things. And he said I should just tell him what I wanted to know, and he’d figure out what it would cost. That scared me even more, but I went ahead and did it.
“Mr. Gendell listened to everything I told him. And then he said, ‘Young woman, if you put your husband’s name on that deed, you will never be able to get it off.’
“I asked him why I would even want to get it off. And he said, ‘Things happen.’ That’s just what he said, ‘Things happen.’ He said the house would be half Joey’s. And Joey was the man. So, if he wanted to sell it, for example, well, he could just do it. Mr. Gendell didn’t say anything about divorce, but he asked me how long I’d known Joey before we got married, and stuff like that, so I understood what he was really saying.
“He gave me a real lecture. Not like a scolding, but like I always imagined college would be, if I had ever went. He told me about the Married Women’s Property Act, and how hard it had been for women to get the vote, and how the courts treated women when they got divorced, and . . . Well, anyway, when he was done with me, that was the end of me putting Joey’s name on the deed to the house.”
“How did Joey take that?”
“He walked out of the house. He came back late at night. Drunk. And he beat me up. Ow!” Tussy squealed, as Dett’s hand clamped down on hers.
“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Dett said. He felt hot lava suffusing the artificially tightened skin of his face, threatening to erupt. He quickly bent forward and kissed her hand. “I’m sorry, Tussy. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s all right,” she said. “You just . . . startled me, that’s all.”
“When I heard you say he—”
“I understand,” she said, realizing, as she spoke, that she did, and not questioning it.
“What happened?” Dett said, clipping each syllable.
“I told you. He—”
“After that.”
“Oh. The next morning, he apologized. It was the liquor that made him do it, he said. But I couldn’t forget him . . . punching me, screaming how could he be the man of the house when it wasn’t even his house? I didn’t go to work the next day. I was too ashamed. My face was all . . .”
“He never did it again?”
“Can I . . . ?” Tussy said, gesturing.
Dett handed over her purse, lit the cigarette he knew was coming.
“He did do it again. And again. He even kicked Fireball.”
“Your cat? Why would he—?”
“Fireball tried to tear him up. Scratching and biting. Joey couldn’t get him off.”
“I didn’t know cats did that. Dogs, sure. But—”
“Well, Fireball did. He was a little tiger. When Joey kicked him, he went flying into the wall. I thought Joey had killed him. If he had . . .”
“But he was okay?”
“I took him to the vet. They said he was fine, but that’s when everyone found out.”
“Found out?”
“About Joey . . . beating me. I had to take Fireball to the doctor; I thought he was hurt real bad. I did my best to cover up my . . . I put on a lot of makeup, but it didn’t do any good. I had a black eye, and my nose was all swollen.”
“You think the vet told people?”
“Maybe. I mean, I guess so. Because, when the police came, it was like they already knew.”
“The police came to the vet’s?”
“No, no. To my house. It was the very next night. Joey was drunk, and he slapped me. I punched him back, as hard as I could. Then I tried to scratch his eyes out, like Fireball would have, if he could. A window got broken. Someone must have called the police. One of my neighbors, I think. Nobody ever said.
“When they got there, Joey looked worse than me, I think. But I was the one with the broken ribs. We all went to the hospital. The police asked me what happened, and I told them. They said if I pressed charges Joey would go to jail, and then he’d lose his job, and there’d be no one to take care of me. I couldn’t even explain to them that I didn’t need anyone to take care of me; I was too busy crying. I felt like everything was just . . . gone.”
“Did you press charges?” Dett asked, shallow-breathing through his nose.
“What happened was, Sherman Layne came in. I didn’t know his whole name back then, but I remembered him, from the time my parents . . . he was the one who told me to go and see Mr. Beaumont He remembered me, too. I asked him, what should I do? He said the best thing would be for Joey to just leave and not come back. I told him Joey would never do that. But Sherman—everyone calls him that, Detective Sherman—he said he would.”
“Did he?”
“Yes,” Tussy said, as if still surprised at the memory. “That’s just exactly what he did. He moved out. He didn’t really have that much stuff to take, anyway; all the furniture—what you saw—it was mine. And then he had a lawyer send me some papers saying we were going to get divorced. I showed the papers to Mr. Gendell, and he started laughing. ‘Stupid punks,’ is all he said. Then he took the papers from me, and said not to worry about anything.
“A few weeks later, Mr. Gendell came into the diner. He gave me some legal papers, with seals on them and everything, and said I was divorced, and Joey had to pay me sixty dollars a month for alimony! I told him I didn’t want any money from Joey, and Mr. Gendell just smiled. He told me he knew I was going to say that. Joey was never really going to pay me a dime—the alimony was just for insurance, he said. In case Joey ever made trouble for me, I could have him locked up for nonsupport.
“I was so grateful. I asked Mr. Gendell how much money I had to pay him, and he said Joey paid him. He laughed when he said it. Like it was this terrifically funny joke.”
“He sounds like a good man, especially for a lawyer.”
“Oh, he is. But, you know, the way he laughed that day, I wouldn’t ever want him to be mad at me. Do you know what I mean?”
“Yes.”
“Well, now you know. My whole sad story. Still think I’m so pure, Walker?”
“Even more,” he said, holding her hand.
* * *
1959 October 06 Tuesday 00:13
* * *
“It didn’t even hurt, Daddy,” Lola whispered.
“You sound like you mad about it, sweet
girl,” Silk said.
“Well, those other girls, they said it did. They said it burned like fire, and they couldn’t—”
“So you think they was gaming on you, playing you off the trick, so they could have him for themselves?”
“It was fifty dollars, Daddy!” Lola said, proudly. “Who gets that kind of money?”
“You do, little star. And that’s the truth. Be the truth forever,” Silk said, pulling his whore closer to him on the leather seat of the Eldorado. “Now tell Silk what you remember. Every little thing, right from the beginning.”
* * *
1959 October 06 Tuesday 00:41
* * *
As Dett nosed the rented Buick out of the clearing, a black Cadillac Coupe de Ville flashed past. Moving too fast for these dirt roads, Dett thought. He’ll put a lot of chips in that paint job.
“Anyone you know?” he asked Tussy, keeping his voice casual. Back where they had been parked, Dett had felt another presence. A lurker of some kind. Probably kids, looking for a thrill, he had thought at the time, not picking up any sense of danger. And, whatever it was, it had moved on quick enough. But now the Caddy . . .
“Why would I know anyone who comes here?” Tussy said, more angrily than she intended.
“I didn’t mean . . . that,” Dett said, holding his hands up helplessly. “I meant the car itself. It looked pretty fancy for a teenage kid to be driving.”
“Oh. No, I . . . I mean, it just looked like a car to me. I can’t tell them apart, the way some people can.”
“Sure. I thought it looked like it belonged to one of the people I’ve been talking to. About buying property.”
“Well, it was a big one.”
“Yeah. A Cadillac. But there’s no shortage of those around.”
“I guess that depends where you live,” Tussy said, chuckling. “You won’t see any on my block.”
“That’s sensible,” Dett said, seriously. “Some cars cost so much, you could buy a nice little house instead.”
“I can’t understand why anyone would do that. Have you ever noticed how some colored people buy big cars? I’m sure they buy them on time, but that’s the same way you’d buy a house, isn’t it? I mean, either way, you have to make payments every month. So why do you think they do that?”
“Well, what if you couldn’t buy a house?”
“I don’t understand. I, well, maybe I couldn’t, with what I make, but some of them—”
“No, I mean, what if nobody would sell you one? You walk into a showroom, I don’t care if you’re black or white or purple they’ll sell you a car. But if you want to buy a house . . .”
“Oh. I see what you mean. I never thought of it like that.”
“I didn’t, either,” Dett assured her. “Not until someone pointed it out to me.”
“And now you pointed it out to me,” she said, seriously. “I guess that’s the way people learn things.”
“It’s only learning if it’s the truth, Tussy. If a lie gets passed from person to person, they’re not learning, they’re being tricked.”
“Did you get this way from the business you’re in?”
“What way?”
“Thinking so . . . black all the time. Like everything is crooked and rotten. Is that from being in real estate? I heard, from people who come in the diner, it can be a real cutthroat business, real estate.”
“No. I learned it . . . a long time ago. And not in any one place.”
“I . . . Oh, good Lord! Do you know what time it is?”
“It’s . . . almost one o’clock.”
“In the morning.”
“I didn’t realize.”
“Neither did I. My goodness.”
“I’m sorry if I—”
“Oh, you didn’t do anything. I just got . . . lost. In talking. And I don’t have to go to work tomorrow, anyway.”
“Right. No Mondays or Tuesdays. I was hoping . . .”
“What, Walker?”
“That you would let me see you again.”
“Tomorrow, you mean? Well,” she said, grinning in the darkness of the car’s interior, “later today, actually.”
“Yes. Anytime at—”
“Would you like to come over for lunch? In the daytime, it would be perfectly fine.”
“With your neighbors?”
“You think I’m silly, don’t you? I’m just not a . . . flashy person. My girlfriend—”
“—Gloria.”
“Oh, you really listen, don’t you?”
“I listen to you. Every word you say.”
“I guess. Anyway, to show you what a flop I am at being, well, not wild, exactly, but . . . one time, Gloria talked me into trying out at the Avalon.”
“What’s that?” Dett asked, images of strip joints stabbing his mind.
“It’s a dance hall. You know, one of those dime-a-dance places. It’s very classy, actually. The men had to wear ties. And they didn’t serve liquor. Gloria said it would be fun. Plus, we could make some money.”
“But you didn’t like it?”
“Well, I was a little afraid of it, at first. I mean, can you see me as a dance-hall girl? I’m way too short, and way too . . . plump.”
“No you’re not.”
“Oh, you have a lot of experience with dance halls?” she said.
“I was never even in one,” Dett told her, truthfully.
“I was just clowning around, Walker. I know you were being nice. I’m no good at taking compliments—I never know if someone’s just being polite.”
“I wasn’t. I mean—”
“Oh, stop it!” Tussy said, smacking him playfully on his right arm. “I understand. Anyway, one night in that place was enough for me. At first, I was afraid nobody would ask me to dance, and I’d just sit there, a little wallflower, until Gloria was ready to go home. But a man came over right away. And then another. I could have been on my feet all night.”
“What didn’t you like, then?”
“You know.”
“Being grabbed?”
“Yes. When I was in high school—I was only a freshman, so it was my first year—I used to love to dance. But this, it wasn’t dancing at all. The men couldn’t dance. Or, more likely, they wouldn’t dance. All they wanted to do was paw. Some were nicer about it than others, but . . . one man, he just reached down and grabbed my bottom! Right out on the floor.”
“That’s when you slugged him?”
“I wish I had! But I was too . . . shocked to do anything but pull away from him. I went right over and told Gloria we were leaving. And she didn’t argue.”
“I’ll bet she didn’t,” Dett said, admiringly.
* * *
1959 October 06 Tuesday 01:40
* * *
“I figure, whatever that man wants to know, might be something we want to know,” Silk said.
“You figured right, brother,” Rufus said.
“So—what do we know?” Kendall asked, a shade softer than hostile.
“My woman, Lola, she told me everything. But, the way they do it, there ain’t a single clue about the man who comes by for that kind of taste.”
“You came all the way over here, tell us that?”
“Ice up, K-man,” Darryl said, quietly. “Let the man say what he come to say.”
Silk nodded gratefully at Darryl, then said, “But here’s what we do know. The woman who brings the girls to that ‘blue room,’ she’s the one who sets the whole thing up. Puts the girls in that leather thing to hold them, tells them how to get ready, how to act . . . all that. Now, any madam might do that for her girls, especially for a high-paying regular. But somebody got to know when the trick is coming, ’cause it take time to get everything ready for him. Somebody got to let him in. So somebody got to know his car, see his face, hear his voice. . . .”
“The madam,” Rufus said.
“That’s the one, Brother Omar,” Silk confirmed. “This Ruth girl, she knows. She knows all of it.”
* * *
1959 October 06 Tuesday 01:44
* * *
“I wish you could come in,” Tussy said, as Dett’s rented Buick turned off the main road. “For coffee, I mean,” she added, quickly.
“But it’s so late. . . .”
“It’s not that,” she said. “I’m wide awake. I usually don’t even get home from work until past midnight.”
“Your neighbors—”
“Oh, they’re probably asleep. Who stays up this late if they’re not working? It’s just . . .”
“The car, right? Standing in front of your house.”
“How did you know?”
“People,” Dett said, shrugging.
“I don’t see where what I do has to be so much their business,” Tussy said, defiantly. “It would just be for—”
“I can drop you off,” Dett said. “Walk you to your door, and drive off. And then come back.”
“But what difference would that make? You’d still—”
“Nobody would see me coming,” Dett said, so softly Tussy had to lean toward him to be certain she heard. “The back of your house, there’s nothing there except a big ditch and some empty land.”
“That’s where they stopped working,” she said. “The builders, I mean. They cleared all the land behind us after the war. It was supposed to be the next Levittown. But it was a stupid idea.”
“Levittown?”
“No, silly. That was a great idea. I read where it sold out in just a few weeks. But that was because they built it where there was work. Maybe not right there in Levittown, but close enough to where people could commute.
“What was there like that around here? It was all factory work back then. Plants and mills. The men who worked in them already lived here. So, when everything dried up after the war, so did the big ‘development.’ I don’t know who owns that land now, but it can’t be worth anything.”
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