gasoline without someone suffering and dying some-14
where?” he asked me. Then he told me about the execu-15
tion of three hundred loyal officers that one dictator 16
realized might turn against him one day. He had nothing 17
to do with the killings, but he was in that Central Amer-18
ican country at the time, making liaisons with that gov-19
ernment for a fruit concern in the Midwest. He knew the 20
plan before it was executed but did nothing to stop it.
21
“It was not my business,” he said.
22
“But could you have stopped it?” I asked.
23
“Not without killing every man, woman, and child in 24
this world,” he answered. “And it’s not really worth it, you 25
know. Saving lives.”
26
“What do you mean by that?” I asked.
27 S
“I saved a man once,” he said. “He was a journalist in 28 R
the south of Africa. For the crime of writing against a 240
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mineral conglomerate, he was framed, arrested, and sen-1
tenced to death. I went to him on behalf of his sister. She 2
worked in an office I kept in Rhodesia. She begged me to 3
help. I liked her a lot so I told her that he was doing what 4
he had to do, but she still begged me. I went to him and 5
told him what would happen after he died. How the rest 6
of his friends and his loved ones would suffer. When he 7
refused me I told him that I would have to give his sister’s 8
name to the army because she was working against them 9
too. All he had to do was agree to keep silent and the min-10
eral company would forget him and give him money to 11
migrate off the continent.”
12
“Did he agree?” I asked.
13
“Yes.”
14
“So you saved him.”
15
“He died from drink in Morocco in just two years. You 16
can’t save fools and you can’t save victims. That’s why I’ve 17
got this bubble in my head. It’s like every step is planned 18
from the beginning.”
19
Weeks passed. Every day I spent down in the basement 20
with my prisoner and my secret tape recorder. That’s how 21
I began to think of him. My prisoner. As long as he was in 22
that basement, I figured that the world was a little safer 23
place. I was also his confessor, the chronicler of his sins.
24
After hearing about hundreds of crimes, I decided to 25
ask about Bennet’s own past.
26
“Did you ever find out who your father was?” I asked.
S 27
“I’d rather not talk about that.”
R 28
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1
“Would you rather four days in the hole?”
2
Bennet was afraid of the dark by that time. He had ex-3
perienced something down in the darkness that scared 4
him. I knew he wouldn’t refuse my questions. I had dom-5
inated him with the fear of isolation.
6
At that time I felt that my actions were justified.
7
“I don’t know who my father was. Except that he really 8
was from Turkey and that he was murdered after making 9
my mother pregnant.”
10
“How do you know that?”
11
“I hired a detective to search for him. He found that a 12
Tamal Hikmet was murdered in Harlem buying heroin 13
eight months before I was born. Tamal was a Turkish ille-14
gal. He was an addict and a playwright. No one could 15
have saved him. No one can save anyone, not even them-16
selves.”
17
“But maybe they can be redeemed,” I suggested. To my 18
knowledge that was the first time in my life that I had 19
ever used a derivative of the word redemption.
20
“What does that mean?”
21
“Maybe they can make amends for their crimes. Maybe 22
they can make a stand. Tell the world what is right.”
23
“You ever read Moby Dick, Charles?”
24
I had not and shook my head to say so.
25
“There’s a cook in that book,” my prisoner said. “A 26
cook who lectures to sharks about their nature. He tells 27 S
them that they could be angels if they just mastered their 28 R
appetites. He preached to them, but they didn’t under-242
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stand. Our hearts are like those sharks. There’s no curbing 1
the appetite of a hungry heart.”
2
“Maybe he was talking to himself,” I said, not thinking 3
really, just making up words.
4
But Mr. Anniston Bennet, Tamal Knosos, aka Hikmet, 5
looked up at me with something like wonder in his face.
6
He wrestled with the words that I had already forgotten 7
and then repeated them and then wrestled some more.
8
“Talking to himself,” he said a third time.
9
10
11
Anniston Bennet was a murderer if you went by his 12
words. He had people killed, and he killed with his own 13
hands four times. Never in self-defense — he was a pred-14
ator with no natural enemies. But he never killed without 15
the say-so of officials in the government; he never killed 16
for passion — at least that’s what he said.
17
When his time in my cellar was almost up, he became 18
jaunty. He made jokes with me and said thank you every 19
night before I left him.
20
I was happy then too. I had three girlfriends, money in 21
the bank, and plans for my future, and I was friends with 22
Clarance and Ricky again. Some weeks earlier I told Nar-23
ciss that I wanted my family heirlooms back so I could 24
make a museum out of my ancestry in the house where 25
that family throve.
26
Every now and then Bennet would say to me, “The S 27
cook was talking to himself, huh, Charles?”
R 28
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1
“I don’t know,” I’d say to him. “I just said it. You’re the 2
one who read the book.”
3
He’d smile at me and sit back in his red chair. He had a 4
full beard by then, and he never wore his blue contacts at all.
5
6
7
It was his last Thursday in my home when I came down 8
to see him. I opened the hatch and was greeted by silence.
9
Usually I could hear the rustle of his movem
ents, his 10
standing or rising from his cot. But that Thursday he did 11
not rise. He stayed sleeping in his bed.
12
“Mr. Bennet,” I said, but he made no motion.
13
I said it louder with no more effect.
14
By the third time I was frightened.
15
By the fifth I went back to my house to find the key to 16
his cage.
17
Anniston Bennet was dead. Peaceful and placid, lying 18
with no blankets, dressed only in his self-styled prison 19
pants. Under his bed was a neat stack of envelopes that 20
were sealed, stamped, and addressed to different people, 21
including me.
22
There was no wound or other sign of trauma. He had 23
just gone to sleep and drifted off to death. I never even 24
considered calling the hospital. His body was already stiff.
25
The letters were addressed mainly to people in New 26
York City and Washington, D.C. But there were en-27 S
velopes destined for Europe and Africa, Asia and South 28 R
America too.
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I opened only the one addressed to me.
1
2
Dear Charles:
3
4
Or should I say Warden? You have found me now, 5
dead, in your basement. I wonder what you will do with 6
my corpse? I have left letters for my business associates 7
and the two friends I have. There are also notes for two 8
wives and children. I have said good-bye to all of them. It 9
would be nice for you to send them.
10
But I know you may not be inclined to let out the news 11
of my death in your custody. There may be those who will 12
feel uncertain about your part in my death. And though 13
no one will hold you responsible, they might worry about 14
what I told you, seeing how crazy this suicide might seem.
15
There is one pill left in the glass on the floor. It is a fast-16
acting poison called Sleeper that was designed to be pain-17
less. I leave one for you in case you one day feel at an end.
18
I had the pills, but I wasn’t sure when I came to you 19
that I wanted to die. I mean, I’ve wanted to die for a long 20
time now, but I could see no reason until you left me in 21
the dark. In the dark they all came back to me. The dead 22
people and the fools. The women who gave themselves 23
for money and the men who gave themselves for women.
24
The old men who couldn’t even get it up anymore who 25
gave themselves for power. And me like a sheepdog keep-26
ing them in line, leading them to slaughter because it was S 27
what I was asked to do.
R 28
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1
I smelled blood in the darkness. I heard the silence of 2
death. And then a light would come and you would walk 3
down the stairs asking if the ones I killed were black men 4
just as if death had a race. I began to like you. Even 5
though you turned on me and beat me with the darkness 6
and silly questions.
7
When the confessions were all through, I knew there 8
was no more to say. You left just a few minutes ago. I will 9
take the Sleeper after this one last letter (the rest I’ve writ-10
ten over the past two weeks).
11
I want to die telling you something, Charles. I want to 12
pass something on, but I can’t think of a thing. Now that 13
death is coming the bubble is gone, the itch in my heart 14
has subsided and there’s nothing left to think.
15
The only words I have to pass on are the ones to a story 16
I never told you.
17
I once had to kill a man (a white man) — my boss.
18
The man who brought me into reclamations after I was 19
finished with government work. His name was Stewart 20
Tellman and he was from Greenwich too. He taught me 21
everything that I tried to tell you. I learned from him and 22
we did good business. But one day his grandson was 23
killed by a falling beam at a construction site. A hy-24
draulic lift went out of control.
25
Stew had the man working the lift murdered. Then he 26
started making crazy decisions on the job. He took chances 27 S
and left clues of our coming. He spent hours sitting in 28 R
the dark like you made me do for days.
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I went to his home one night while his wife was away 1
visiting their daughter. I came in a window and shot him 2
in the head. He was napping. His head was down on a 3
mahogany desk in the study. I shot him and it wasn’t 4
murder. He had killed himself as far as I was concerned.
5
I sat with him all night watching his blood congeal and 6
his skin tighten. I knew then (seventeen years ago) that 7
one day I would have to die like that. I decided to do it 8
myself rather than leave it for someone else.
9
But I couldn’t have done it without you, Charles. You 10
gave me the time to say good-bye. The rest of your 11
money is in a false bottom of my book trunk.
12
13
Tamal
14
15
The next few hours were the hardest I ever knew. The 16
man in my basement was dead. A corpse that I could 17
never explain. I sat with him all day and into the next 18
night. When it was late I went out into the graveyard and 19
dug a hole between my great-great-grandfather William P.
20
Dodd and my aunt Theodora. I dug all night long, won-21
dering if Miss Littleneck was hiding in the bushes, spying 22
on my crime.
23
I covered the hole with two doors that I took off the 24
hinges of the two toilets in my house. The next night I dug 25
some more. The hole was as deep as I am tall before I 26
dragged the board-stiff corpse from my basement. I rolled S 27
him in and covered him over. There was no ceremony.
R 28
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1
The following day I dismantled the cell. Over the next 2
few weeks I used a blowtorch and an electric saw to cut 3
the metal into pieces, which I deposited, along with the 4
dismantled toilet, in dump sites around the island. I 5
burned his trunk and books and clothes.
6
All that was left of him were those letters and about 7
forty tapes of his confessions.
8
/> He was right; I never sent his letters. I buried them with 9
his tapes in the basement where he died.
10
I started my museum. Now, with Narciss, I collect 11
pieces of black history from the area where I live. Narciss 12
and I don’t go out anymore. I told her that I’m not 13
monogamous but I’d still like to be friends. After a while 14
she came around.
15
I make my money from admission fees and from the 16
historically black colleges that send up graduate students 17
and professors now and then to study my collection. Nar-18
ciss is good at applying for grants, so we usually have 19
enough to pay our salaries.
20
Chastity Littleneck died and I was the only one other 21
than Irene and the minister at the funeral. The whole 22
time I kept thinking that it was Anniston Bennet’s funeral 23
I was attending. It was sad, but I didn’t cry.
24
Irene died four weeks later. She left me her house in a 25
new will. It was that one pecan pie and a walk in the 26
graveyard. Bennet was wrong but he would never know 27 S
it. Some people live according to love and being loved —
28 R
if only a little.
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I rent the Littleneck house to rich people in the sum-1
mer. And I still live up in my childhood room, playing 2
cards on Thursdays (closing the museum early) and doing 3
very little to make life grand.
4
Extine went away at the end of the season. If she ever 5
came back she didn’t call me. Bethany married Ricky.
6
Clarance was his best man.
7
I don’t think I’ll ever get married. I still haven’t found 8
love, and whenever I think about children, I remember 9
that there once was a boy who was sold to a dog.
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
S 27
R 28
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1
2
3
4
5
about the author
6
7
8
WALTER MOSLEY is the author of the ac-9
claimed Easy Rawlins series of mysteries; the 10
The Man in My Basement Page 25
