They took me back upstairs, practically had to carry me to get me up them, and then they took me into McGinty’s office, put me back in a chair, and closed the door.
“I heard you had a little fall,” McGinty said.
“News travels fast,” I said.
“Don’t it?”
“Yeah,” String Bean said. “Edwards here, he slipped on a banana peel. Figure that nigger monkey Nickle dropped it on his way down and Edwards stepped on it.”
“You feel like telling me anything new?” McGinty said.
“No, but I’m thinking that coffee, fixed how I asked for it, would be good, Jeff.”
Jeff laughed a little. He actually went to get it.
“Listen here, Edwards. There’s just too many coincidences and connections going on with you, and I know you’re in on some shit.”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
McGinty leaned back, said, “When I was in Korea, I seen some bad shit, so there’s nothing you can tell me that’s going to shock me. You got something to say, something to tell me about, it won’t shock me and I won’t think the less of you for it. I mean, I’d hate to have you step on another banana peel.”
“I was in Korea too,” I said. “Like you, I seen stuff.”
“You a vet?”
“Said so.”
Jeff came in with the coffee, sat it on the desk in front of me so carefully, you would have thought he was serving a filet mignon.
I could see it had some kind of cream in it, but it smelled bad and the cup was still nasty-looking.
“Where were you over there?”
I told him.
“Damn, man. You have seen it.”
“Yep.”
“Drink your coffee,” Jeff said.
“Decided I don’t want it.”
“That’s probably best,” the other uniform said.
We stayed like that a long while. It was the first time things were quiet and still enough for me to notice there was a little fan mounted near the top of the ceiling, and it was unenthusiastically beating at the air.
“All you boys leave the room except for Edwards here,” McGinty said.
String Bean and the uniforms left the room and closed the door.
McGinty lit a cigar and pulled an ashtray on his desk closer to him. “That Korea, that can mess you up, can’t it?”
“Some of the most messed up are still sprayed over the Korean countryside.”
McGinty nodded. “Listen here, Edwards. You want to file a complaint about stepping on that banana peel?”
“No.”
“That’s best. Let me tell you something—I don’t think you’re clean. Think you’re in on this shit one way or another, but you know what? I got nothing. Just a wiggle in the back of my brain. I get that wiggle, I know I’m onto something. Soon as I seen you out there picking up that trash, I got that wiggle. I can’t explain it, but when I get that wiggle, I know.”
“I don’t know from wiggles. But I didn’t do a thing.”
“The wiggle has never been wrong.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“Who knows, we might see each other again. Want to know why I’m not giving String Bean another round with you? And keep in mind, he really likes that stuff and I don’t.”
“Yeah, but you know it happens.”
“But I don’t like to see it. What I said about seeing stuff over there, well, there’s things actually bother me, like seeing you take a beating. I don’t mind knowing about it, but I don’t like to see it.”
“You were going to tell me something about why you were letting me go.”
“I was, wasn’t I? Because you’ve seen some of the stuff I’ve seen. Call it a professional courtesy, one vet to the other. But I get that wiggle big-time again, and I find just the smallest bit of evidence gives me reason to prove what I know, we’ll be seeing each other again. You can go now.”
I got up slowly, because that was the only way I could get up.
“Wait a moment,” McGinty said.
He reached in his desk drawer and brought out the shoebox. He opened it. I could see the money inside.
“Guess I got to let this be yours, but I took a little taste for me and the boys just so I don’t feel like we wasted our time. Call it a fee for the grand tour.”
I didn’t argue with him. I didn’t ask for my gun back. He put the lid on the box and pushed it across the desk to me. I put it under my arm and started out. It took me more than a little bit of time to get my legs solid under me. When I came out of McGinty’s office, String Bean and the two cops were over at the wall near the stairway.
“Come back for another cup of coffee,” String Bean said. “Anytime.”
I went on out. I had been there longer than I’d thought. It was dark outside.
There was an old colored man sweeping the steps. He looked up at me as I made my way down them. He put his broom down, came over, put an arm around me, and helped me down the steps.
“I see you done had a talk with the man,” he said.
“Yeah. We had a little discussion.”
“Where your car?”
I told him, and he helped me over there, and I kept the shoebox clamped under my arm. I got to the back of the Caddy and collapsed by the left rear wheel. My legs just wouldn’t work anymore.
“Damn, man. You can’t drive home.”
“Could if I could get up.”
“No, you couldn’t. Listen, you got someone I could call?”
“Yeah.”
“I got to kind of sneak to do it, since colored can’t talk on the white people’s phones, or I can use the pay phone downstairs. They let colored do that.”
“Okay.”
“I need some change, and I need a phone number.”
Here I was with a shoebox full of money, and I was scrounging in my pocket for some change while leaning against my Cadillac tire. Every time I moved, it was like my insides were being stretched with hot tongs.
“Good news,” said the old man, “is they know what they’re doing. They didn’t break nothing, but they know how to make you feel like hell.”
“You say that like a man with education.”
“You can say that again.”
He took the change and went away.
It seemed a lot of time passed after the old man left me, and twice I tried to get up and just go on, but I couldn’t.
(68)
I didn’t see the old man again, but eventually a taxi pulled up at the curb, and Melinda got out. She was wearing her usual blue jeans and sweatshirt, and her hair was tied back in a ponytail, but right then she looked finer to me than an angel wearing the threads of the gods.
She saw me right off and came over and leaned down and put her cool hand to my forehead.
“Oh, big brother, what have you done?”
“Me? Shit, I just came up here for a visit so I could look around a jail cell and get beat with a phone book and sent home. Turned out to be more fun than I expected.”
“Let me help you up.”
She did, and I got hold of the shoebox, and she helped me onto the front passenger side. I gave her the keys. She started the Cadillac up and drove me to the drive-in.
Melinda got the chain unlocked, drove the Cadillac in, parked, helped me into the concession and then into my room. She turned on the light. I put the shoebox on the bed and sat down beside it.
Melinda looked at the shoebox. “You must really like those shoes.”
“They travel with me everywhere.”
She sat in a chair, crossed her legs, and looked at me. “You’ve done something.”
“Police think I have.”
“And why do they?”
“Owner of this drive-in has gone missing.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with that, did you?”
“Of course not. They’re just fishing, but I got a feeling I’m going to be needing a new job. They’ve closed this place down, and now I go
t no one to work for or to pay me.”
“She run off?”
“Looks that way. Her and the handyman. Could you get me some aspirin?”
I told her where it was, and she brought the aspirin bottle and a glass of water. I took four aspirin and drank some water.
She stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. “So, we going to talk about what you don’t want to talk about?”
“Make some coffee, baby sis.”
Melinda agreed to make coffee in the concession, and I went into the bathroom and closed the door. I brushed my teeth, took off my clothes, and looked at myself as best I could in the mirror. I had so many bruises on my torso, I looked like a spotted pup.
I took a quick shower, more of a rinse-off, got dry, and dressed again in the same clothes. When I came out of the bathroom, Melinda had put coffee for me on the end table, and she had the lid off the shoebox.
“Those aren’t shoes,” she said.
“No. They aren’t. That’s five thousand dollars minus what the cops thought they deserved for wearing out a phone book on me.”
“Jesus, Eddie.”
“It’s okay. I’m feeling better. Look, that money is mine. Why they gave it back to me. They came here and searched things, had me come to the station, gave me a nice cup of coffee and a look at the phone book. Then they sent me home with my money and their best wishes, satisfied I’m pure as the driven snow.”
“What are you really doing, Ed? Money like that can’t be from savings, kind of work you’ve done.”
“I had some smart stock-market tips and investments. Actually, it’s better than you’d think. Take the key, go look in the trunk of the Cadillac, where the spare ought to be. Open the suitcases, leave them there, and come back.”
She did that. When she came back, her face was pale. “That’s some stock-market tip, Eddie.”
“Isn’t it? Listen, I should have said when you went out, but I want you to go back and look in the glove box and bring me the pistol in there. I’m sentimental about it.”
“Sentimental.”
“Yeah.”
She went out and got it and brought it back and placed it on the end table next to the alarm clock. She put it there carefully, like it might explode. She placed the birth certificate beside it.
“Sentimental, huh?”
“Yep. Deeply. Melinda, I’m going to ask you to do something, and I don’t want any shit. I want you to take the Cadillac, with the money still in it, and go home. Tomorrow, I want you to start moving away from here. College, no college. You get away from here, and you take that money. You can give Mama some, but not much, because she’s not going to change. I know that now. She’s going to drink it up, but you, you got to go, go anywhere but here, and go fast and far. Promise me that.”
“I don’t know, Eddie. You’re scaring me a little.”
“I’m not saying you have to abandon Mama, but there comes a time, if a person hasn’t learned a lesson, you can’t teach them one. I’m talking about me too.”
“That’s so much money.”
“In those two suitcases there’s a better life, or maybe not. That’s up to you. Shit. Give it all to charity, you want to. But me, I’m done trying to be a big shot. The harder I try, the deeper I dig myself in. Will you do this? For me? For yourself?”
“I don’t know if it’s right, Eddie. I don’t know I believe you got that from the stock market.”
“You don’t believe that because you’re not stupid, and maybe it is ill-gotten, but you can go on and do something with your life. Just take what’s in those suitcases with you. Remember how well you could hide stuff when you were little?”
“Yeah.”
“Hide those cases someplace no one can find them until you want to use the money, and except for using some to hit the road, don’t go spending it right away. Wait awhile.”
Melinda sat and thought about what I had said for a long time. Long enough I drank my coffee and had a sip of water.
“All right, Eddie. I will.”
“You don’t need to come back and see me, least not soon. Take that birth certificate with you. Now is your time. I mean it.”
Melinda stood up. “Okay, Eddie.” She came over and kissed me. “You’re going to be okay? Don’t you need some of the money?”
“No. I’m going to be fine. I got the shoebox.”
“Should I lock the chain in place?”
“That’s all right.”
It took a few false starts before she left, and we both got teary, and she even poured me another cup of coffee I didn’t drink. Everyone was always trying to give me coffee. Finally, she picked up the certificate and got out of there. I went to the window by the bed, one that faced the highway, and saw her coast the Caddy onto it.
I looked at my alarm clock. It was nine p.m. and it was one week from the day I’d made my agreement with Cecil.
I took more aspirin, set my alarm for midnight, and lay down. It seemed like it was the next moment when the alarm went off.
I got up slowly, but I was feeling better. I decided on having the cold coffee I hadn’t drunk earlier. I washed my face to wake up more, then I stretched a little. It only hurt when I did anything.
I got Walter’s gun off the end table and checked to see how many loads were in it. There were four left of the six. One was in Walter and another was in Nancy. I put the pistol in my pants pocket, the grip sticking out, got a light coat and slipped it on. It hid the pistol.
I had a real drink this time, some whiskey I had. It was expensive stuff I’d been saving for an important occasion. This was important enough.
I had a couple of short ones and thought about things for a long while. I looked at the clock. Twelve forty-five.
I picked up the shoebox and went outside. There were a couple of wooden lawn chairs out there next to the concession wall, and I dragged one after me to the entrance of the drive-in. I sat in it with the shoebox in my lap.
I wondered how many people had shown up for the movie tonight and found it closed. I bet Julie and her boyfriend weren’t among them. I had a feeling she wouldn’t be going out much for a while.
I saw Cecil pulling off the highway, start coasting down the road into the drive-in. I got up and stuffed the shoebox under my arm and moved the chair aside.
This hurt a lot less than it would have a few hours ago.
I walked into the drive-in and stood next to the ticket booth. Standing there, I could see the big finger sign, as I thought of it. The lights weren’t on, so it was just a dark shape pointing up into the night.
Cecil drove past me a little bit, got out of his car slowly, warily. He had on a big cream-colored hat and was dressed in a cream suit and wearing those two-tone shoes, brown and white.
“There’s my man,” he said. “My brother in blood.”
“I got your money,” I said.
“I expected you would. That was our deal, wasn’t it, brother?”
“That was our deal.”
He put one hand in his coat pocket, said, “Let me see what you got for me. Shoebox, that’s funny.”
I gave him the box. He went around the front of his car, stood on the opposite side of the hood, opened the shoebox, and looked inside.
He counted, licking his thumb from time to time to move the bills more easily. He laid the bills on the hood. When he finished counting, he looked at me. “You know it’s some short?”
“Yeah.”
“That bother you, crawfishing on a deal?”
“Not really.”
He put the money back in the shoebox, came around with it under one arm, and, without looking away from me, put the shoebox through his open car window on the driver’s seat.
“You don’t hold a deal sacred as me. Man’s word is his bond.”
I laughed a little.
He smiled. “Yeah, you know me, all right, and it ain’t much off, but it being a little light, I’m thinking I might have to come back for not only the rest of it
but a little bit more. A kind of penalty for not having what we agreed on.”
“You’re not coming back.”
“I don’t get to come back, then people going to know a lot about you and your little sissy, my man.”
“I don’t think they will.”
He understood then, and the hand he had in his pocket lifted without coming out of the coat. I threw back the side of my coat and reached the pistol out and fired.
My shot hit the car and then his pocket made a smoking hole, and I felt like I had been punched in the chest. It was hard enough, I sat down.
I shot at him again. This time the shot hit him in the stomach and he bent at the knees and fell back against his car.
He put his hand to where he had been hit. Blood was running through his fingers. “Goddamn, man. You done put a hole in me.”
“Lucky shot.”
“For you.”
“Call us even. I got a hole in me too.”
He tried to lift his hand up with the gun inside his coat, but I shot him again. The bullet caught him in the lower jaw, and the bottom of his face came off. His head dipped toward his chest. His feet vibrated a little, then went still.
I sat there on the ground and felt awful. I wasn’t sure I could get up, but I did. I could hardly hold the gun, and I decided to drop it on the ground. It was like I’d dropped a thousand pounds. I was having a hard time getting my legs to work, and my hands felt weak. It felt worse than the phone-book beating. It burned inside of me.
By the time I got to the back door, I could just lift my hand. I turned the doorknob and went inside. I leaned against the concession counter. I slipped behind it and got a big roll of rough, brown paper towels, tore a chunk off, and stuck it against the wound. The towels turned dark almost immediately.
In my room I sat at my desk, thinking about the blood I was losing. My glass and the whiskey were there. I poured another shot.
Way I felt, it was like drinking tea.
I eased over to the phone, sat on the bed, and made a call.
(69)
McGinty was nice enough to come in by himself, as I had asked. He saw the blood dripping out of me onto the bed and onto the floor.
He took off his hat. “Bad?”
“Not good. Have a drink. There’s another glass somewhere.”
More Better Deals Page 19
