The real cool killers cjagdj-2

by Chester Himes

  Coffin Ed appeared suddenly. No one had noticed him approaching from his parked car down the street.

  "Great God, what's happening, Digger?" he exclaimed.

  Everybody was quiet, their embarrassment noticeable.

  "What the hell!" he said, looking from one to the other. "What the hell's going on."

  Grave Digger's muscles relaxed as though he'd lost consciousness.

  "It's just me, Ed," he said, looking up from the ground at his friend. "I just lost my head, is all."

  "Let him go," Anderson ordered his helpers. "He's back to normal now."

  The cops released Grave Digger and he got to his feet.

  "Cooled off now?" the homicide lieutenant asked.

  "Yeah. Give me my gun," Grave Digger said.

  Coffin Ed looked down at Ready Belcher's bloody head.

  "You too, eh, partner," he said. "What did this rebel do?"

  "I told him if I caught him holding out on me I'd kill him."

  "You told him no lie," Coffin Ed said. Then asked, "Is it that bad?"

  "It's dirty, Ed. Galen was a rotten son of a bitch."

  "That doesn't surprise me. Have you got anything on it so far?"

  "A little, not much."

  "What the hell do you want here?" the chief said testily. "I suppose you want to help your buddy beat up some more of your folks."

  Grave Digger knew the chief was trying to steer the conversation away from Coffin Ed's daughter, but he didn't know how to help him.

  "You two men act as if you want to kill off the whole population of Harlem," the chief kept on.

  "You told me to crack down," Grave Digger reminded him.

  "Yeah, but I didn't mean in front of my eyes where I would have to be a witness to it."

  "It's our beat," Coffin Ed spoke up for his friend. "If you don't like the way we handle it why don't you take us off."

  "You're already off," the chief said. "What in the hell did you come back for, anyway?"

  "Strictly on private business."

  The chief snorted.

  "My little daughter hasn't come home and I'm worried about her," Coffin Ed explained. "It's not like her to stay out this late and not let us know where she is."

  The chief looked away to hide his embarrassment.

  Grave Digger swallowed audibly.

  "Hell, Ed, you don't have to worry about Eve," he said in what he hoped was a reassuring tone of voice. "She'll be home soon. You know nothing can happen to her. She's got that police ID card you got for her on her last birthday, hasn't she?"

  "I know, but she always phones her mother if she's going to stay out."

  "While you're out here looking for her she's probably gone home. Why don't you go back home and go to bed? She'll be all right."

  "Jones is telling you right, Ed," the chief said brusquely. "Go home and relax. You're off duty and you're in our way here. Nothing is going to happen to your daughter. You're just having nightmares."

  A siren sounded in the distance.

  "Here comes the ambulance," Lieutenant Anderson said.

  "I'll go and phone home again," Coffin Ed said. "Take it easy, Digger. Don't get yourself docked, too."

  As he turned and started off a fusillade of shots sounded from the upper floor of some nearby tenement. Ten shots from regulation. 38 police specials were fired so fast that by the time the sounds had reached the street they were chained together.

  Every cop within earshot froze to alert attention. They strained their ears in almost superhuman effort to place the direction from which the shots had come. Their eyes scanned the fronts of the tenements until not a spot escaped their observation.

  But no more shots were fired.

  The only signs of life left were the lights going out. With the rapidity of gun shots, one light after another went out until only one lighted window remained in the whole block of darkened dingy buildings. It was behind a fire-escape landing on the top floor of the tenement half a block up the street.

  All eyes focused on that spot.

  The grotesque silhouette of something crawling over the window sill appeared in the glare of light. Slowly it straightened and took the shape of a short, husky man. It staggered slowly along the three feet of grilled iron footing and leaned against the low outer rail. For a moment it swayed back and forth in a macabre pantomime and then, slowly, like a roulette ball climbing the last hurdle before the final slot, it fell over the railing, turned in the air, missed the second landing by a breath. The body turned again and struck the third railing and started to spin faster. It landed with a resounding thud on top of a parked car and lay there with one hand hanging down beside the driver's window as though signaling for a stop.

  "Well, God damn it, get going!" the chief shouted in stentorian tone. Then, on second thought, he added, "Not you, Jones. Not you!" and ran toward his car to get his megaphone. Already motion had broken out. Cops were heading toward the tenement like the Marines landing. The two cops guarding the entrance ran out into the street to locate the scene of the disturbance. The chief grabbed his megaphone and shouted, "Get the lights on that building." Two spotlights that had been extinguished were turned back on immediately and beamed on the tenement's top floor. A patrolman stepped from the window onto the fireescape landing and raised his hands in the light. "Hold it, everybody!" he shouted. "I want the chief! Is the chief there?" "Lower the lights," the chief megaphoned. "I'm here. What is it?" "Send for an ambulance. Petersen is shot — " "An ambulance is coming." "Yes sir, but don't let anybody in here yet-" Grave Digger took hold of Coffin Ed's arm. "Hang on tight, Ed," he said. "Your daughter's up there." He felt Coffin Ed's muscles tighten beneath his grip as the cop went on, "We found Pickens but one of the Moslem gangsters grabbed Pete's pistol and shot him. He used his buddy as a shield and I got his buddy but he snatched one of the girls here and escaped into the back room. He's locked himself in there and there's no other way out of this shotgun shack. He says the girl is Detective Ed Johnson's daughter. He threatened to cut her throat if he can't talk to you and Grave Digger Jones. Whatcha want me to do?" The ambulance approached and the chief had to wait until the siren had died away to make himself heard. "Has he still got Petersen's pistol?" "Yes, sir, but he emptied it." "All right, Officer, sit pat," the chief megaphoned. "We'll get Petersen down the fire escape and I'll go up and see what it's all about." Coffin Ed's acid-burnt face was hideous with fear.

  16

  "You stay down here, Johnson," the chief ordered.

  "I'll take Anderson and Jones."

  "Not unless you shoot me," Coffin Ed said. The chief looked at him.

  "Let him come," Grave Digger said.

  "I ought to come too; I know the flat," the sergeant said.

  "It's my job to come," the lieutenant from homicide said. "Who the hell's running this police department," the chief said. "We haven't got any time," Grave Digger replied. All of them went quickly and quietly as possible. No one spoke again until the chief said through the kitchen door, "All right, I'm the chief. Come out and give yourself up and you won't get hurt." "How do I know you're the chief?" asked a fuzzy voice from within. "If you open the door and come out you'll see." "Don't get so mother-raping smart. You're the chief, but I'm the Sheik." "Well, all right, you're a big-shot gang boss. What do you want?" "Keep him talking," Coffin Ed whispered. "I'm going up on the roof." "Who's that with you?" Sheik asked sharply. Grave Digger pointed to the sergeant and Lieutenant Anderson. "The precinct lieutenant and a sergeant," the chief said. "Where's Grave Digger?" "He's not here yet. I had to send for him." "Send those other mother-rapers away. Let's you and me settle this, the Sheik and the Chief." "How will you know if they're gone if you're scared to come out and look?" "Let 'em stay then. I don't give a good goddam. And don't think I'm scared. I don't need to take any chances. I got Coffin Ed's daughter by the hair with my left hand and I'm holding a razor-edged butcher knife against her throat with my right hand. If you try to take me I'll cut her motherraping head of
f before you can get through the door." "All right, Sheik, you got us by the short hair, but you know you can't get away. Why don't you come out peaceably and give yourself up like a man. I give you my word that no one will abuse you. The officer you shot ain't seriously hurt. There's no other charge against you. You ought to get off with five years. With time off for good behavior, you'll be back in the big town in three years. Why risk sudden death or the hot seat just for a moment of playing the big shot?" "Don't hand me that mother-raping crap. You'll hang a kidnapping charge on me for snatching your prisoner." "What the hell! You can keep him. We don't want him anymore. We found out he didn't kill the man. All he had was a blank pistol." "So he didn't kill the man?" "No." "Who killed him?" "We don't know yet." "Soyou don't know who killed the big Greek, do you?" "All right, all right, what's that to you? What do you want to get mixed up in something that doesn't concern you?" "You're one of those smart mother-rapers, ain't you? You're going to be so smart you're going to make me cut her mother-raping throat just to show you." "Please don't argue with him, Mr. Chief, please," said a small scared voice from within. "He'll kill me. I know he will." "Shut up!" Sheik said roughly. "I don't need you to tell 'im I'm going to kill you." Beads of sweat formed on the ridge of the chief's red nose and about the blue bags beneath his eyes. "Why don't you be a man," he urged, filling his voice with contempt. "Don't be a mad dog like Vincent Coil. Be a man like Dillinger was. You won't get much. Three years and no more. Don't hide behind an innocent little girl." "Who the hell do you think you're kidding with that stale crap. This is the Sheik. Can't no dumb cop like you make a fool out of the Sheik. You got the chair waiting for me and you think you're going to kid me into walking out there and sitting in it." "Don't play yourself too big, punk," the chief said, losing his temper for a moment. "You shot an officer but you didn't kill him. You snatched a prisoner but we don't want him. Now you want to take it out on a little girl who can't defend herself. And you call yourself the Sheik, the big gang leader. You're justa cheap tinhorn punk, yellow to the core." "Keep on, just keep on. You ain't kidding me with that mother-raping sucker bait. You know it was me who killed him. You've had me tabbed ever since you found out that nigger was shooting blanks." "What!" The chief was startled. Forgetting himself, he asked Grave Digger, "What the hell's he talking about?" "Galen." Grave Digger formed the word with his lips. "Galen!" the chief exclaimed. "You're trying to tell me you killed the white man, you chicken-livered punk?" he roared. "Keep on, just keep on. You know damn well it was me lowered the boom on the big Greek." He sounded as though he bitterly resented an oversight. "Who do you think you're kidding? You're talking to the Sheik. You think 'cause I'm colored I'm dumb enough to fall for that rock-a-bye-baby crap you're putting down." The chief had to readjust his train of thought. "So it was you who killed Galen?" "He was just the Greek to me," Sheik said scornfully. "Just another gray sucker up here trying to get his kicks. Yeah, I killed him." There was pride in his voice. "Yeah, it figures," the chief said thoughtfully. "You saw him running down the street and you took advantage of that and shot him in the back. Just what a yellow son of a bitch like you would do. You were probably laying for him and were scared to go out and face him like a man." "I wasn't laying for the mother-raper no such goddam thing," Sheik said. "I didn't even know he was anywhere about." "You were nursing a grudge against him." "I didn't have nothing against the mother-raper. You must be having pipedreams. He was just another gray sucker to me." "Then why the hell did you shoot him?" "I was just trying out my new zip gun. I saw the motherraper running by where I was standing so I just blasted at him to see how good my gun would shoot." "You God damned little rat," the chief said, but there was more sorrow in his voice than anger. "You sick little bastard. What the God damned hell can be done with somebody like you?" "I just want you to quit trying to kid me, 'cause I'd just as soon cut this girl's throat right now as not." "All right, Mister Sheik," the chief said in a cold, quiet voice. "What do you want me to do?" "Is Grave Digger come yet?" Grave Digger nodded. "Yeah, he's here, Mister Sheik." "Let him say something then, and you better can that mister crap." "Eve, this is me, Digger Jones," Grave Digger said, spurning Sheik. "Answer him," Sheik said. "Yes, Mr. Jones," she said in a voice so weightless it floated out to the tense group listening like quivering eiderdown. "Is Sissie in there with you?" "No, sir, just Granny Bowee and she's sitting in her chair asleep." "Where's Sissie?" "She and Inky are in the front room." "Has he hurt you?" "Quit stalling," Sheik said dangerously. "I'm going to give you until I count to three." "Please, Mr. Jones, do what he says. He's going to kill me if you don't." "Don't worry child, we're going to do what he says," he reassured her and then said, "What do you want, boy?" "These are my terms: Iwant the street cleared of cops; all the police blockades moved — " "What the hell!" the chief exploded. "We'll do it," Grave Digger said. "I want to hear the chief say it," Sheik demanded. "I'll be damned if I will," the chief said. "Please," came a tiny voice no bigger than a prayer. "What if she was your daughter," Grave Digger said. "I'm going to give you until I count three," Sheik said. "All right, I'll do it," the chief said, sweating blood. "On your word of honor as a great white man," Sheik persisted. The chief's red sweating face drained of color. "All right, all right, on my word of honor," he said. "Then I want an ambulance driven up to the door downstairs. I want all its doors left open so I can see inside, the back doors and both the side doors, and I want the motor left running." "All right, all right, what else? The Statue of Liberty?" "I want this house cleared — " "All right, all right, I said I'd do that." "I don't want any mother-raping alarm put out. I don't want anybody to try to stop me. If anybody messes with me before I get away you're going to have a dead girl to bury. I'll put her out somewhere safe when I get clear away, clear out of the state." "Don't cross him," Grave Digger whispered tensely. "He's teaed to the eyes." "All right, all right," the chief said. "We'll give you safe passage. If you don't hurt the girl. If you hurt her we won't kill you, but you'll beg us to. Now take five minutes and come out and we'll let you drive away." "Who do you think you're kidding?" Sheik said. "I ain't that big a fool. I want Grave Digger to come inside of here and put his pistol down on the table, then I'm going to come out." "You're crazy if you think we're going to give you a pistol," the chief roared. "Then I'm going to kill her now." "I'll give it to you," Grave Digger said. "You're under suspension as of now," the chief said. "All right," Grave Digger said: then to Sheik, "What do you want me to do?" "I want you to stand outside the door with the pistol held by the barrel. When I open the door I want you to stick it forward and walk into the room so's the first thing I see is the butt. Then I want you to walk straight ahead and put it on the kitchen table. You got that?" "Yeah, I got it." "The rest of you mother-rapers get downstairs," Sheik said. The two lieutenants and the sergeant looked at the chief for orders. "All right, Jones, it's your show," the chief said, adding on second thought, "I wish you luck." He turned and started down the stairs. The others hesitated. Grave Digger motioned violently for them to leave too. Reluctantly they followed the chief. It was silent in the kitchen until the sound of the officers' receding footsteps diminished into silence below. Grave Digger stood facing the kitchen door, holding the pistol as instructed. Sweat poured down his lumpy cordovancolored face and collected in the collar about his neck. Finally the sound of movement came from the kitchen. The bolt of the Yale lock clicked open, a hand bolt was pulled back with a grating snap, a chain was unfastened. The door swung slowly inward. Only Granny was visible from the doorway. She sat bolt upright in the immobile rocking chair with her hands gripping the arms and her old milky eyes wide open and staring at Grave Digger with a fixed look of fierce disapproval. Sheik spoke from behind the door, "Turn the butt this way so I can see if it's loaded." Without looking around, Grave Digger turned the pistol so that Sheik could see the shells in the chambers of the cylinder. "Go ahead, keep walking," Sheik ordered. Still without looking around, Grave Digger moved slowly across the room. When he came to the table
he looked swiftly toward the small window at the far end of the back wall. It was on the other side of an old-fashioned homemade cupboard which partially blocked the view of the kitchen from the outside, so that only the section between the table and the side wall was visible. He saw what he was looking for. He leaned slowly forward and placed the pistol on the far side of the table. "There," he said. Raising his hands high above his head, he turned slowly away from the table and faced the back wall. He stood so that Sheik had to either pass in front of him to reach the pistol or go around on the other side of the table. Sheik kicked the door shut, revealing himself and Sugartit, but Grave Digger didn't turn his head or even move his eyes to look at them. Sheik gripped Sugartit's pony tail tightly in his left hand, pulling her head back hard to make her slender brown throat taut beneath the blade of the butcher knife. They began a slow shuffling walk, like a weird Apache dance in a Montmartre night club. Sugartit's eyes had the huge liquid look of a dying doe's, and her small brown face looked as fragile as toasted meringue. Her upper lip was sweating copiously. Sheik kept his gaze pinned on Grave Digger's back while slowly skirting the opposite walls of the room and approaching the table from the far side. When he came within reach of the pistol he released his hold on Sugartit's pony tail, pressed the knife blade tighter against her throat and reached out with his left hand for the pistol. Coffin Ed was hanging head downward from the roof, only his head and shoulders visible below the top edge of the kitchen window. He had been hanging there for twenty minutes waiting for Sheik to come into view. He took careful aim at a spot just above Sheik's left ear. Some sixth sense caused Sheik to jerk his head around at the exact instant Coffin Ed fired. A third eye, small and black and sightless, appeared suddenly in the exact center of Sheik's forehead between his two startled yellow cat's eyes. The high-powered bullet had cut only a small round hole in the window glass, but the sound of the shot shattered the whole pane and blasted a shower of glass into the room. Grave Digger wheeled to catch the fainting girl as the knife clattered harmlessly onto the table top. Sheik was dead when he started going down. He landed crumpled up beside Granny's immobile rocking chair. The room was full of cops. "That was too much of a risk, too much of a risk," Lieutenant Anderson said, shaking his head, a dazed expression of his face. "What isn't risky on this job?" the chief said authoritatively. "We cops got to take risks." No one disputed him. "This is a violent city," he added belligerently. "There wasn't that much risk," Coffin Ed said. He had his arm about his daughter's trembling shoulders. "They don't have any reflexes when you shoot them in the head." Sugartit winced. "Take Eve and go home," Grave Digger said harshly. "I guess I'd better," Coffin Ed said, limping painfully as he guided Sugartit gently toward the door. "Geez," a young patrol-car rookie was saying. "Geez. He hung there all that time on just some wire tied around his ankles. I don't know how he stood the pain." "You'd've stood it too if she was your daughter," Grave Digger said. "Forget what I said to you about being under suspension, Jones," the chief said. "I didn't hear you," Grave Digger said. "Jesus Christ, look at that!" the sergeant exclaimed in amazement. "All that noise and Grandma's still sleeping." Everybody turned and looked at him. They were solemn for a moment. "Nothing's ever going to wake her up again," the lieutenant from homicide said. "She must have been dead for hours." "All right, all right, all right," the chief shouted. "Let's clean up here and get away. We've got this case tied up tighter than Dick's hatband." Then he added in a pleased tone of voice, "That wasn't too difficult, was it?"