Cotton comes to Harlem cjagdj-6

by Chester Himes

  "You look good," Coffin Ed said levelly.

  "Tell it to your mother," she said.

  "Deke got away," Grave Digger said.

  "The lucky mother-raper," she said, squinting into the light.

  Grave Digger turned down all the lights except one. It left her starkly visible but didn't blind her.

  "How'd you like to escape?" Grave Digger asked.

  "I'd like it fine," she said. "How'd you like to lay me? Both of you. At the same time."

  "Where?" Coffin Ed asked.

  "How is the question," Grave Digger said.

  "Here," she said. "And let me worry about how."

  "All joking aside — " Grave Digger began again, but she cut him off.

  "I'm not joking."

  "All sex aside then. Do you know Deke's hideout?"

  "If I knew I wouldn't tell you," she said. "Anyway, not for nothing."

  "We'll clear you," he said.

  "Shit," she said. "You can't clear your own mother-raping selves, much less me. Anyway, I don't know it," she added.

  "Can you find it?"

  A sly look came into her eyes. "I could find it if I was out."

  "I'm reading your mind," Grave Digger said.

  "And it don't read good," Coffin Ed said.

  The sly look went out of her eyes. "I can't find him from here, and that's for sure."

  "That's for sure," Grave Digger agreed.

  They stared at one another. "What's in it for me?" she asked.

  "Freedom, maybe," he said. "When we get Deke we're going to drop the load on him. His two boys are going to fry for cop killing and we're going to fry him for killing Mabel Hill. And you get the ten per cent reward from the eighty-seven grand if we find it."

  They watched the thoughts reflected in her eyes and Coffin Ed said, "Steady, girl. If you try to cross us there won't be room enough for you in the world. We'll hunt you down and kill you."

  "And don't think you'll be lucky enough to get shot," Grave Digger added. His lumpy unshaven face looked sadistic from behind the stabbing light, like the vague shadow of a monster's. "Want me to spell it out?"

  She shuddered. "And if I don't find him?"

  He chuckled. "We'll arrest you for escaping."

  She was consumed with sudden rage. "You dirty mother-rapers," she mouthed.

  "Better to be dirty than dumb," Coffin Ed said. "Are you on?"

  She blushed beneath her rainbow color. "If I could only rape you, you dirty bastard."

  "You can't. So are you on?"

  "I'm on," she said. "You son of a bitch, you knew it all the time." After a moment she added, "Maybe if I don't find Deke you'll rape me."

  "You'll have a better chance if you find him," he said.

  "I'll find him," she promised.

  18

  "Make yourself into a black woman and don't ask any questions," Grave Digger said. "You'll find everything in there you'll need — make-up, clothes and some money. Don't worry about the dye; it'll come off."

  He turned on the bright lights and he and Coffin Ed went out and locked the door behind them. She found the mirror and went to work. Coffin Ed stood outside the door and listened for a time; he didn't think she'd yell and try to draw attention, but he wanted to make sure. Satisfied she was tending to the business, he went upstairs and waited for Grave Digger to come with the keys to the bullpen. They went inside and interrogated the sullen prisoners until they found a young black woman about Iris's size and age, named Lotus Green. They filled out a card on Lotus, then took her down to the Pigeons' Nest for further questioning.

  "What you want with me?" she protested. "I done tole you everything I know."

  "We like you," Coffin Ed said.

  She shocked the hell out of him by blowing coy. "You got to pay me," she said. "I don't do it with strangers for nothing."

  "We ain't strangers by now," he said.

  He stood outside, listening to her explain why he was still a stranger while Grave Digger went inside to get Iris. She was ready, a fly black woman in a cheap red dress.

  "These shit-skin sandals are too big," she complained.

  "Watch your language and act dignified," Grave Digger said. "You're a churchwoman named Lotus Green and you hope to go back to Africa."

  "My God!" she exclaimed.

  He took her out past the real Lotus while Coffin Ed took the real Lotus inside.

  "We're going to put you in the bullpen and when the officer comes for Lotus Green you come out with him," Grave Digger instructed. "Just act sullen and don't answer any questions."

  "That won't be hard," she said.

  Coffin Ed locked the real Lotus in the place of Iris, assuring her that he was going to get some money, and joined Grave Digger. They went to the captain's office and asked permission to take out Lotus Green, one of the Back-to-Africa group.

  "She saw where the woman went who was robbed that night, but she doesn't know the number," Grave Digger explained. "And that woman might have seen all the hijackers."

  The captain suspected some kind of trick. Furthermore he wasn't interested in the hijacking, he just wanted Deke. But it put him on the spot.

  "All right, all right," he snapped. "I'll send for her and you can take her from my office. Just don't forget your assignment."

  "It's all the same thing," Grave Digger said. "Here's the report on her," and gave him the card.

  They went back to see the head jailer. "We're going to try Iris once more and if she doesn't give we're going to leave her in the dark for a spell. We'll fix it so she can't hurt herself and don't get edgy if someone hears her screaming. She won't be hurt."

  "I don't know what you fellers do down there and I don't want to know," the jailer said.

  "Right," Grave Digger said and they went down and stood outside the bullpen. When they saw a jailer taking Iris, disguised as Lotus, to the captain's office, they went downstairs and got the real Lotus Green and took her back to the bullpen.

  "I waited and I waited," she complained.

  "What else could you do?" Coffin Ed said and they went back upstairs to the captain's office and walked out of the station with Iris between them. They got into their car and drove off.

  "We're on our own now," Coffin Ed said.

  "Yeah, we've jumped into the fire," Grave Digger agreed.

  "Well, little sister, where do you want to get out?" Coffin Ed asked the black woman on the back seat.

  "Let me out on the corner," she said.

  "What corner?"

  "Any corner."

  They pulled to the curb on Seventh Avenue and 125th opposite the Theresa Hotel. They wanted all the stool pigeons in the neighborhood to see her getting out of their car. They knew no one would recognize her, but they were marking her for themselves — just in case.

  "This is what you do," Coffin Ed said, turning about to face her. "When you contact Deke — "

  " If I contact Deke," she cut in.

  He looked at her for a moment and said, "Just don't try getting cute because we sprung you. That ain't going to make any difference if you try a double-cross."

  She didn't answer.

  He said, "When you contact Deke, just say you know where the bale of cotton is."

  " The what! " she exclaimed.

  "The bale of cotton. And let him take it from there. Then when you get him located, keep him waiting and contact us."

  "Are you sure you mean a bale of cotton?" she asked incredulously.

  "That's right, a bale of cotton."

  "And how do I contact you?"

  "Call either of these two numbers." He gave her the telephone numbers of their homes. "If we're not there, leave a number and we'll call back."

  "Shit on that," she said.

  "All right, then call back in half an hour and you'll be given a number where to contact us. Just say you're Abigail."

  Grave Digger muttered, "Ed, you're giving us a lot of trouble."

  "What do you suggest that's better?"

 
Grave Digger thought about it for a moment. "Nothing," he confessed.

  "Bye-bye then," Iris said, adding under her breath, "Blackbirds," and got out. She walked east on 125th.

  Grave Digger eased into the traffic on Seventh Avenue and drove north.

  Iris stopped in front of a United Tobacco store and watched their car until it passed from sight. The store had five telephone booths ranged along one wall. Iris chose one quickly and dialed a number.

  A cautious voice answered: "Holmes Radio Repair Shop."

  "I want to talk to Mr Holmes," Iris said.

  "Who's calling?"

  "His wife. I just got back."

  After a moment another disguised voice said, "Honey, where are you?"

  "I'm here," Iris said.

  "How'd you get out?"

  Don't you wish you knew? she thought. Aloud she said, "How would you like to buy a bale of cotton?"

  There was a long pregnant silence. "Tell me where you are and I'll have my chauffeur pick you up."

  "Stay put," she said. "I'm dealing in cotton."

  "Just don't deal in death," the voice sounded a deadly warning.

  She hung up. When she stepped outside she looked up and down the street. Cars were parked on both sides. Crosstown traffic flowed from the Triborough Bridge headed towards the West Side Highway and the 125th Street ferry and vice versa. There was nothing about the black Ford to set it apart from any other car. It was empty and looked put for some time. She didn't see the two-toned Chevrolet parked down the street. But when she started walking again, she was being tailed.

  Grave Digger and Coffin Ed drove their official car, the little black car with the hopped-up engine that was so well known in Harlem, into a garage on 155th Street and left it for a tune-up. Then they walked up the hill to the subway and rode the "A" train down to Columbus Circle at 59th Street and Broadway.

  They walked over to the section of pawnshops and secondhand clothing stores on Columbus Avenue and went into Katz's pawnshop and bought black sunglasses and caps. Grave Digger chose a big checkered cap called the "Sportsman" while Coffin Ed selected a red, long-billed fatigue cap modelled after those worn by the Seabees during the war. When they emerged, they looked like two Harlem cats, high off pot.

  They walked up Broadway to a car rental agency and selected a black panel truck without any markings. The rental agent didn't want to trust them until they put down a large deposit. He took it and grinned, figuring them for Harlem racketeers.

  "Will this jalopy run?" Grave Digger asked.

  "Run!" the agent exclaimed. "Cadillacs get out of its way."

  "Damn right," Coffin Ed said. "If I owned a Cadillac I'd get out of its way too."

  They got in and drove it back uptown.

  "Now I know why the world looks so vague to weedheads," Grave Digger said from behind the wheel.

  "Too bad there isn't any make-up to disguise us as white," Coffin Ed said.

  "Hell, I remember when old Canada Lee was made up as a white man, playing on Broadway in a Shakespearean play; and if Canada Lee could look like a white man, I'm damn sure we could."

  The mechanic at the garage didn't recognize them until Grave Digger flashed his sheld.

  "I'll be a mother," he said, grinning. "When I saw you coming I locked the safe."

  "Just as well," Grave Digger said. "You never know who's in a panel truck."

  "Ain't it the truth?" the mechanic said.

  They had him take their radio-telephone from their official car and install it temporarily in the truck. It took forty-five minutes and Coffin Ed called home. His wife said no one named Abigail had called either her or Stella, but the precinct station had been calling every half-hour trying to get in touch with them.

  "Just tell them you don't know where we are," Coffin Ed said. "And that's the truth."

  When they left the garage they were able to pick up all the police calls. All cars had been alerted to contact them and order them back to the station. Then the cars were instructed to pick up a slim black woman wearing a red dress, named Lotus Green.

  Coffin Ed chuckled. "By this time that yellow gal has damn sure got that dye off, much as she hates being black."

  "And she ain't wearing that cheap red dress, either," Grave Digger added.

  They drove over to a White Rose bar at the corner of 125th and Park Avenue, across the street from the 125th Street railroad station, and parked behind a two-toned Chevrolet. Ernie was sitting in a shoeshine stand outside the bar, facing Park. The sign on the awning read: AMERICAN LEGION SHOE SHINE. Two elderly white men were shining colored men's shoes. Across the avenue, seen between the stanchions of the railroad trestle, was another shoeshine, its awning proclaiming: FATHER DIVINE SHOE SHINE. Two elderly colored men were shining white men's shoes.

  "Democracy at work," Coffin Ed said.

  "Down to the feet."

  "Down at the feet," Coffin Ed corrected.

  Ernie saw them go into the bar but gave no sign of recognition. They stood at the bar like two cats having a sip of something cold to dampen their dry jag, and ordered beer. After a while Ernie came in and squeezed to the bar beside them. He ordered a beer. The white barman put down an open bottle and a glass. Ernie wasn't looking when he poured it and some sloshed on to Grave Digger's hand. He turned and said, "Excuse me, I wasn't looking."

  "That's what's on all them tombstones," Grave Digger said.

  Ernie laughed. "She's at Billie's, the dancer, on 115th Street," he said under his breath.

  "Don't pay no 'tention to me, son, I was just joking," Grave Digger said aloud. "Stay with it."

  The bartender was passing. He looked from one to the other. Stay with it, he thought. Stay with what? As long as he'd been working in Harlem, he had never learned these colored folks' language.

  Grave Digger and Coffin Ed finished their beers and ordered two more and Ernie finished his and went out. Coffin Ed used the bar phone and telephoned his home. There had been no call from Abigail, but the precinct station had been calling regularly. The bartender was listening furtively but Coffin Ed hadn't said a word. Then finally he said, "Stay with it." The bartender started. Nuts, he thought looking vindicated.

  They left their beers half finished and went around the corner and sat in their truck.

  "If we could tap the phone," Coffin Ed said.

  "She's not going to phone from there," Grave Digger said. "She's too smart for that."

  "I just hope she don't get too mother-raping smart to live," Coffin Ed said.

  Billie was alone when Iris knocked with the brass-hand knocker on the black and yellow lacquered door. She opened the door on the chain. She was wearing yellow chiffon lounging slacks over a pair of black lace pants and a long-sleeved white chiffon blouse fastened at the cuffs with turquoise links. She might as well have been naked. Her slim, bare, dancer's feet had bright red lacquered nails. As always she was made up as though to step before the cameras. She looked like the favourite in a sultan's harem.

  Through the crack she saw a woman who looked too black to be real, dressed like a housemaid on her afternoon off. She blinked. "You've got the wrong door," she said.

  "It's me," Iris said.

  Billie's eyes widened " Me who? You sound like somebody I know but you sure don't look like anybody I'd ever know."

  "Me, Iris."

  Billie scrutinized her for a moment, then broke into hysterical laughter. "My God, you look like the last of the Topsys. Whatever happened to you?"

  "Unchain the door and let me in," Iris snapped. "I know how I look."

  Billie unchained the door, still laughing hysterically, and locked and chained it behind her. Then suddenly, watching Iris hurry towards the bath, she called, "Hey, I read you were in jail," running after her.

  Iris was already at the mirror, smearing cleansing cream over her face, when Billie came in. "I'm out now, as you can see."

  "Well, how 'bout you," Billie said, sitting on the edge of the bathtub. "Who sprung you? The paper said y
ou lowered the boom on Deke and now he's escaped."

  Iris snatched a clean towel and began frantically rubbing her face to see if the black would come off. Yellow skin appeared. Reassured, she became less frantic. "The monsters," she said. "They want me to help 'em find Deke."

  Billie looked shocked. "You wouldn't!" she exclaimed.

  Iris was slipping out of the cheap red dress. "The hell I wouldn't," she said.

  Billie jumped to her feet. "I certainly won't help you," she said. "I always liked Deke."

  "You can have him, sugar," Iris said sweetly, peeling off the lisle stockings. "I'll swap him for a dress."

  Billie left the room, looking indignant, while Iris shed to the skin and began removing the black in earnest. After a while Billie returned and threw clothes across the side of the tub. She looked at Iris's nude body critically.

  "You sure got beat up, baby. You look like you've been raped by three cannibals."

  "That'd be a kick," Iris mumbled, smearing her face more thoroughly with the cleansing cream.

  "Here, use Ponds," Billie said, handing her a different jar. "That's Chanel's you're wasting on that blackening and this is just as good for that."

  Iris exchanged the jar without comment and went on smearing her face, neck, arms and legs.

  "Did you really kill her?" Billie asked as though casually. Iris stopped applying the cream and turned around and looked at her. "Don't ask me that question. There never was a man I'd kill for." There was a warning in her voice that frightened Billie.

  But she had to know. "Were you and her — "

  "Shut up," Iris snapped. "I didn't know the bitch."

  "You can't stay here," Billie said bitchily, showing her disbelief. "They'd lock me up too if they found me."

  "Don't be so fucking jealous," Iris said and began kneading in the cleansing cream again. "Nobody knows I'm here and not even Deke knows about us."

  Billie smiled with secret pleasure. Mollified, she asked, "How do you expect to get to Deke after you've ratted on him?"

  Iris laughed as at a good joke. "I'm going to cook up a good story about where to find the money he's lost and see what he'll pay me for it. Deke will forgive anything for money."