Bad Boy Brawley Brown er-7

by Walter Mosley

  "It's the only answer, Jop. You and Coretta were the only ones who knew I was lookin' for her. I mean DeWitt Albright knew but he'd'a just gone after the girl if he knew where she was. And Coretta was still lookin' to get money from me, so she wouldn't want me knowin' she talked to Daphne. It was you, man."

  "She could'a looked you up in the phone book."

  "I ain't in the book, Joppy."

  I didn't know for sure if I was right. Daphne could have found me some other way, but I didn't think so.

  "Why, man?" I asked.

  Joppy's hard face never let you know what he was thinking. But I don't think he suspected the lead pipes I had clenched in my pockets either.

  After a long minute he gave me a friendly smile and said, "Don't get all hot, man. It ain't so bad."

  "What you mean, ain't so bad?" I yelled. "Coretta's dead, your friend Albright is on my ass, the cops already brought me down once—"

  "I din't mean for none'a that t'happen, Easy, you gotta believe it."

  "Now Albright got me chasin' Frank Green," I blurted out.

  "Frank Green?" Joppy's eyes tightened to birds' eyes.

  "Yeah. Frank Green."

  "Okay, Easy. Lemme tell ya how it is. Albright come here lookin' for that girl. He showed me the picture and right away I knew who it was …"

  "How'd you know that?" I asked.

  "Sometimes Frank bring her along when he deliverin' liquor. I figured she was his girl or sumpin'."

  "But you didn't say nuthin' to Albright?"

  "Naw. Frank's my supply, I ain't gonna get in bad with him. I just waited until he come back with her and I let her know, on the sly, that I got some information that she want to know. She called me and I give it to her."

  "Why? Why you want to help her?"

  Joppy flashed a smile at me that was as close to shy as he was likely to get. "She's a pretty girl, Easy. Very pretty. I wouldn't mind her bein' my friend."

  "Why not just tell Frank?"

  "And have him come in here swingin' that knife? Shit. Frank is crazy."

  Joppy relaxed a little when he saw that I was listening. He picked up his rag again. "Yeah, Ease, I thought I could get you some money and send Albright on a wrong trail. It would'a all been fine if you had listened t'me and laid off lookin'."

  "Why you had her call me?"

  Joppy clamped his jaw so that the bones stood out under his ears. "She called me and wanted me to help her go somewhere, to some friend she said. But I didn't want none of it. You know I could help as long as all I had to do was from behind the bar, but I wasn't goin' nowhere."

  "But why me?"

  "I told her t'call ya. She wanna know what DeWitt want, and you the one workin' fo' him." Joppy hunched his shoulders. "I give her your number. I couldn't see where it hurt."

  "So you just playin' me for the fool and then, when you finished, you gimme t'her."

  "Nobody made you take that man's money. Nobody made you see that girl."

  He was right about that. He talked me into it, but I was hungry for that money too.

  "Her friend was dead," I said.

  "White guy?"

  "Uh-huh. And Coretta James is dead, and whoever killed her also got to Howard Green."

  "That's what I heard." Joppy threw the rag under the counter and brought out a short glass. While pouring my whiskey he said, "I din't mean fo' all this, Easy. Just tryin' t'help you and that girl."

  "That girl is the devil, man," I said. "She got evil in every pocket."

  "Maybe you should get out of it, Ease. Take a trip back east or down south or sumpin'."

  "That's what Odell told me. But I ain't gonna run, man."

  I knew what I had to do. I had to find Frank and tell him about the money that Carter offered. Frank was a businessman at heart. And if DeWitt Albright stood in the way of Frank's business I'd just stand to the side and let them fight it out.

  Joppy filled my glass again. It was a kind of peace offering. He really hadn't tried to hurt me. It was just the lie that stuck in my craw.

  "Whyn't you tell me 'bout the girl?" I asked him.

  "I don't know, Easy. She wanted me t'keep it quiet like and"— Joppy's face softened—"I wanted to keep her … secret. To myself, ya know?"

  I took my drink and offered Joppy a cigarette. We smoked our peace and sat in friendship. We didn't speak again for a long time.

  Later on Joppy asked, "Who you think been killin' all them folks?"

  "I don't know, man. Odell told me that the cops think it might be a maniac. And maybe it was with Coretta and Howard but I know who killed that Richard McGee."

  "Who?"

  "I can't see where it helps either of us for me to tell you. Best t'keep that to myself."

  I was thinking these things as I walked through the gate and up the path to my house. It wasn't until I was almost to the door that I realized that the gate wasn't double-latched, the way the postman usually left it.

  Before I turned back to look an explosion went off in my head. I started a long fall through the twilight toward the cement stair of my front porch. But for some reason I didn't hit the stair. The door flung open and I found myself face down on the couch. I wanted to get up but the loud noise in my head made me dizzy.

  Then he turned me over.

  He was wearing a dark blue suit, so dark that you might have mistaken it for black. He wore a black shirt. His black shoe was on the cushion next to my head. There was a short-rimmed black Stetson on his head. His face was as black as the rest of him. The only color to Frank Green was his banana-colored tie, loosely knotted at his throat.

  "Hi, Frank." The words shot pain through my head.

  Frank's right fist made a snickering sound and a four-inch blade appeared, like a chrome-colored flame.

  "Hear you been lookin' fo' me, Easy."

  I tried to sit up but he shoved my face back down onto the couch. "Hear you been lookin' fo' me," he said again.

  "That's right, Frank. I need to talk to you. I gotta deal for you, make us both five hundred dollars."

  Frank's black face cracked into a white grin. He put his knee against my chest and pressed the tip of his knife, just barely, into my throat. I could feel the flesh prick and the blood trickle.

  "I'm'a have t'kill you, Easy."

  My first reaction was to look around to see if there was something that might save me but there was nothing except walls and furniture. Then I noticed something strange. The straight-back wood chair that I kept in the kitchen was pulled up to my sofa chair as if someone had used it for a footrest. I don't know why I concentrated on that; for all I knew Frank had pulled it out while I was still out of it.

  "Hear me out," I said.

  "What?"

  "I might could make it seven-fifty."

  "How a mechanic gonna get that kinda money?"

  "Man wanna talk to a girl you know. Rich man. He pay that much just to talk."

  "What girl?" Frank's voice was almost a growl.

  "White girl. Daphne Monet."

  "You a dead man, Easy," Frank said.

  "Frank, listen to me. You got me wrong, man."

  "You been nosin' all 'round after me. I been hearin' it. You even goin' where I'm doin' business and where I be drinkin'. I come back from my little business trip and now Daphne's gone and you in every hole I shit in." His hard yellow eyes were staring right into mine. "The cops lookin' fo' me too, Easy. Somebody kilt Coretta and I hear you was around 'fore she died."

  "Frank …"

  He pressed the blade a little harder. "You dead, Easy," he said and then he shifted the weight of his shoulder.

  The voice said, "Don't cry or beg, Easy. Don't give this nigger the satisfaction."

  "Evenin', Frank," somebody said in a friendly tone. It wasn't me. I could tell that it was real because Frank froze. He was still staring at me but his attention was at his back.

  "Who's that?" he croaked.

  "Been a long time, Frank. Must be ten years."

  "
That you, Mouse?"

  "You got a good mem'ry, Frank. I always like a man got a good memory, cause nine times outta eleven he's a smart man could 'preciate a tough problem. 'Cause you know I got a problem here, Frank."

  "What's that?"

  Right then the phone rang, and I'll be damned if Mouse didn't answer it!

  "Yeah?" he said. "Yeah, yeah, Easy's here but he kinda busy right now. Uh-huh, yeah, sure. Could he call you right back? No? Okay. Yeah. Yeah, try back in 'bout a hour, he be free by then."

  I heard him put the phone back on the hook. I couldn't see past Frank Green's chest.

  "Where was I… oh yeah, I was gonna tell ya my problem. You see, Frank, I got this here long-barreled forty-one-caliber pistol pointed at the back'a yo' head. But I cain't shoot it 'cause I'm afraid that if you fall you gonna cut my partner's throat. Thas some problem, huh?"

  Frank just stared at me.

  "So what you think I should do, Frank? I know you just itchin' t'cut on poor Easy but I don't think you gonna live t'smile 'bout it, brother."

  "Ain't none'a yo' business, Mouse."

  "I tell you what, Frank. You put down that knife right there on the couch an' I let you live. You don't an' you dead. I ain't gonna count or no bullshit like that now. Just one minute and I'm'a shoot."

  Frank slowly took the knife from my throat and placed it on the couch, where it could be seen from behind.

  "Okay now, stand away and sit over in this here chair."

  Frank did as he was told and there was Mouse, beautiful as he could be. His smile glittered. Some of the teeth were rimmed with gold and some were capped. One tooth had a gold rim with a blue jewel in it. He wore a plaid zoot suit with Broadway suspenders down the front of his shirt. He had spats on over his patent leather shoes and the biggest pistol I had ever seen held loosely in his left hand.

  Frank was staring at that pistol too.

  Knifehand was a bad man but there wasn't a man in his right mind who knew Mouse who didn't give him respect.

  "'S'appenin', Easy?"

  "Mouse," I said. Blood covered the front of my shirt; my hands were shaking.

  "Want me t'kill'im, Ease?"

  "Hey!" Frank yelled. "We hadda deal!"

  "Easy my oldest partner, man. I shoot yo' ugly face off and ain't nuthin' you gonna say t'stop me."

  "We don't need t'kill'im. All I need is a couple of answers." I realized that I didn't need Frank if I had Mouse on my side.

  "Then get t'askin', man," Mouse grinned.

  "Where's Daphne Monet?" I asked Green. He just stared at me, his eyes sharp as his knife.

  "You heard'im, Frank," Mouse said. "Where is she?"

  Frank's eyes weren't so sharp when he looked at Mouse but he stayed quiet anyway.

  "This ain't no game, Frank." Mouse let the pistol hang down until the muzzle was pointing at the floor. He walked up to Frank; so close that Knifehand could have grabbed him. But Frank stayed still. He knew that Mouse was just playing with him.

  "Tell us what we wanna know, Frankie, or I'm'a shoot ya."

  Frank's jaw set and his left eye half closed. I could see that Daphne meant enough to him that he was ready to die to keep her safe.

  Mouse raised the pistol so that it was pointing to the soft place under Frank's jaw.

  "Let'im go," I said.

  "But you said you had a five-hundred-dollar deal." Mouse was hungry to hurt Frank, I could hear it in his tone.

  "Let'im go, man. I don't want him killed in my house." I thought maybe Mouse would sympathize with keeping blood off the furniture.

  "Gimme your keys then. I take him for a drive." Mouse smiled an evil grin. "He'll tell me what I wanna know."

  Without warning Mouse pistol-whipped Frank three times; every blow made a sickening thud. Frank fell to his knees with the dark blood coming down over his dark clothes.

  When Frank fell to the floor I jumped between him and Mouse.

  "Let'im go!" I cried.

  "Get outta my way, Easy!" There was bloodlust in Mouse's voice.

  I grabbed for his arm. "Let him be, Raymond!"

  Before anything else could happen I felt Frank pushing me from behind. I was propelled onto Mouse and we fell to the floor. I hugged Mouse to break my fall but also to keep him from shooting Frank. By the time the wiry little man got out from under me Frank had bolted out the door.

  "Dammit, Easy!" He turned with the pistol loosely aimed at me. "Don't you never grab me when I got a gun in my hand! You crazy?"

  Mouse ran to the window but Frank was gone.

  I hung back for a moment while Mouse calmed down.

  After a minute or two he turned away from the window and looked down at his jacket, "Look at the blood you got on my coat, Easy! Why you wanna go and do that?"

  "I need Frank Green alive. You kill him and one of my sources dries up."

  "What? What that got to do with this mess?" Mouse took off his jacket and draped it over his arm. "That the bathroom?" he asked, pointing to the door.

  "Yeah," I said.

  He hung the pistol in his belt and carried the stained jacket to the toilet. I heard the water running. When Mouse returned I was staring out the front window, through the slatted blinds.

  "He ain't gonna be back t'night, Easy. Tough man like Frank seen too much death to want it on him."

  "What you doin' here, Mouse?"

  "Din't you call Etta?"

  "Yeah?"

  Mouse was looking at me, shaking his head and smiling.

  "Easy, you changed."

  "How's that?"

  "You use' t'be kinda scared of everything. Take them little nigger jobs like gardenin' and cleanin' up. Now you got this nice house and you fuckin' some white man's girl."

  "I ain't touched her, man."

  "Not yet."

  "Not ever!"

  "Com'on Easy, this is the Mouse you talkin' to. A woman look twice at you an' you cain't say no. I should know."

  I had messed around with Etta behind Mouse's back when they were just engaged. He found out about it but he didn't care. Mouse never worried about what his women did. But if I'd touched his money he'd have killed me straight away.

  "So what you doin' here?" I asked to change the subject.

  "First thing I want to figure is how I can get that money you told Frank about."

  "No, Mouse. That has nuthin' t'do with you."

  "You gotta man comin' here wanna kill you, Easy. Yo' eye look like hamburger. Man, I could see why you called me, you could use some help."

  "No, Raymond, I did call ya, but that was when I was low. I mean I'm glad you saved me, man, but your kinda help ain't nuthin' I could use."

  "Com'on Easy, you let me in on it an' we both come outta this wit' sumpin'." He had said almost exactly the same words to me eight years before. When everything was over I had two dead men on my soul.

  "No, Raymond."

  Mouse stared at me for a minute. He had light gray eyes; eyes that seemed to see through everything.

  "I said no, Mouse."

  "Tell me 'bout it, Easy." He leaned back into his chair. "Ain't no other way, brother."

  "What you mean?"

  "Nigger cain't pull his way out the swamp wit'out no help, Easy. You wanna hole on t'this house and git some money and have you some white girls callin' on the phone? Alright. That's alright. But, Easy, you gotta have somebody at yo' back, man. That's just a lie them white men give 'bout makin' it on they own. They always got they backs covered."

  "All I want is my chance," I said.

  "Yeah, Easy. Yeah, that's all."

  "But let me tell ya," I said. "I'm scared t'get mixed up wit' you, man."

  Mouse flashed his golden smile at me. "What?"

  "You remember when we went to Pariah? To get yo' weddin' money?"

  "Yeah?"

  "Daddy Reese an' Clifton died, Ray. They died 'cause'a you."

  When Mouse stopped smiling the light in the room seemed to go dim. All of a sudden he was pure business; he'd ju
st been playing with Frank Green.

  "What you mean?"

  "You kilt'em, man! You, an' me too! Clifton came to me two nights fo' he died. He wanted me t'tell'im what t'do. He tole me how you planned t'use him." I felt the tears pressing my eyes but held them back. "But I didn't say nuthin'. I just let that boy go. Now ev'rybody think he killed Reese but I know it was you. And that hurts me, man."

  Mouse rubbed his mouth, never even blinking.

  "That been botherin' you all this time?" He sounded surprised.

  "Yeah."

  "That was a lotta years ago, Easy, an' you wasn't even there, really."

  "Guilt don't tell time," I said.

  "Guilt?" He said the words as if it had no meaning. "You mean like what I did makes you feel bad?"

  "That's right."

  "I tell you what then," he said, putting his hands up at his shoulders. "You let me work on this with you and I let you run the show."

  "Whas that mean?"

  "I ain't gonna do nuthin' you don't tell me t'do."

  "Everything I say?"

  "Whatever you say, Easy. Maybe you gonna show me how a poor man can live wit'out blood."

  We didn't touch the whiskey.

  I told Mouse what I knew; it wasn't much. I told him that DeWitt Albright was up to no good. I told him that I could get a thousand dollars for information about Daphne Monet because there was a price on her head.

  When he asked me what she had done I looked him in the eye and said, "I don't know."

  Mouse puffed on a cigarette while he listened to me. "Frank come back here an' you might not get out again," he said when I stopped talking.

  "We ain't gonna be here neither, man. We both leave in the morning an' follow this thing down." I told him where he could find DeWitt Albright. I also told him how he could get in touch with Odell Jones and Joppy if he needed help. The plan was to put Mouse on Frank's trail and I'd look into the places I had seen Daphne. We'd come up with the girl and improvise from there.

  It felt good to be fighting back. Mouse was a good soldier, though I worried about him following orders. And if I had the whole thing scammed out right we'd both come out on top; I'd still be alive and have my house too.

  Mouse fell asleep on my living room sofa. He was always a good sleeper. He once told me that they'd have to wake him for his execution because "the Mouse ain't gonna miss his rest."