The Crazy Kill Part 20

"For Johnny, anyway," Grave Digger said. "And if he comes back and finds we've broken into his house and arrested his woman--"

"On suspicion of murder," Coffin Ed interrupted again.

"Not even that would save us from a suspension. It's not as if we were picking her up off the street. We've broken into her house, and there's no evidence of a crime having been committed in here. And we'd need a warrant even if the charge were murder itself."

"Well, the only thing to do is to find him before he finds out what he's looking for," Coffin Ed acceded.

"Yeah, and we'd better get going because time is getting short," Grave Digger said.

They went back through the bathroom, leaving the door wide open, and locked the front door with only the automatic lock.

First they went to the garage on 155th Street where Johnny kept his fishtail Cadillac, but he hadn't been in. Then they went by his club. It was dark and closed.

Next they began touring the cabarets, the dice games, the after-hours joints. They dropped the word they were looking for c.h.i.n.k Charlie.

The bartender at Small Paradise Inn said, "I ain't seen c.h.i.n.k all evening. He must be in jail. You looked for him there?"

"h.e.l.l, that's the last place cops ever look for anybody," Grave Digger said.

"Let's see if he's gone home yet," Coffin Ed suggested finally.

They went back to the flat, rang the bell. Receiving no answer they went in again. It was just as they had left it. Dulcy was sleeping in the same position. The radio station was signing off.

Coffin Ed looked at his watch. "It's four o'clock," he said. "Nothing for it now but to call it a day."

They drove back to the precinct station and made out their report. The lieutenant on charge at night sent for them and read the report before letting them off.

"Hadn't we better pick up the Perry woman?" he said. "Not without a warrant," Grave Digger said. "We haven't been able to verify c.h.i.n.k Charlie Dawson's story about the knife, and if he's lying she can sue us for false arrest."

"What the h.e.l.l," the lieutenant said. "You sound like she's Mrs. Vanderbilt."

"Maybe she's not Mrs. Vanderbilt, but Johnny Perry carries his weight in this town," Grave Digger said. "And that's out of our precinct, anyway."

"Okay, I'll have the 152nd Street precinct station put a couple of men in the building to arrest Johnny when he shows," the lieutenant said. "You fellows get some sleep. You've earned it."

"Anything yet from Chicago on Valentine Haines?" Grave Digger asked.

"Not a thing," the lieutenant said.

The sky was overcast when they left the station, and the air was hot and muggy.

"It looks like it's going to rain cats and dogs," Grave Digger said.

"Let it come down," Coffin Ed said.

18.

Mamie Pullen was having breakfast when the telephone rang. She had a plate full of fried fish and boiled rice, and was dipping hot biscuits into a mixture of melted b.u.t.ter and blackstrap sorghum mola.s.ses.

Baby Sis had finished her breakfast an hour before, and was filling Mamie's cup from a pot of leftover coffee that had been boiling on the stove.

"Go answer it," Mamie said sharply. "Just don't stand there like a lump on a log."

"I just don't seem to be able to get myself together this mawning," Baby Sis said as she shuffled from the kitchen, through the sitting room, into the bedroom at the front.

When she returned Mantle was sipping jet-black coffee hot enough to scald a fowl.

"It's Johnny," she said.

Mamie was holding her breath as she got up from the table.

She was dressed in a faded red-flannel kimono and a pair of Big Joe's old working shoes. On her head she wore a black cotton stocking, knotted in the middle and hanging down her back.

"What you doing up so soon?" she asked into the phone. "Or has you gone to bed yet?"

"I'm in Chicago," Johnny said. "I flew here this morning."

Mamie's thin old body began trembling violently beneath the slack folds of the rusty old kimono, and the telephone shook in her hands as though she had the palsy.

"Trust her, son," she pleaded in a whining voice. "Trust her. She loves you."

"I trust her," Johnny said in his flat toneless voice. "How much trust am I supposed to have?"

"Then let it alone son," she begged. "You got her all for yourself. Ain't that enough?"

"I don't know whether I got her all for myself or not," he said. "That's what I want to find out."

"Ain't no good ever come from digging up the past," she warned.

"You tell me what it is and I'll stop digging," he said.

"Tell you what, son?"

"Whatever in the h.e.l.l it is," he said. "If I knew I wouldn't be here."

"What is you want to know?"

"I just want to know what it is she thinks I'll pay ten grand for her to tell me," he said.

"You got it all wrong, Johnny," she argued in a moaning voice. "That's just Doll Baby lying to try to make herself look big. If Val was alive he'd tell you she was lying."

"Yeah. But he ain't alive," Johnny said. "And I got to find out for myself whether she's lying or not."

"But Val must have told you something," she said, sobbing deep in her thin old chest. "He must of told you something or else---" She broke off and began to swallow as though to swallow the words she'd already said.

"Or else what?" he asked in his toneless voice. She kept swallowing until she could say finally, "Well, it's got to be something that you went all the way to Chicago for, 'cause it can't just be what a lying little b.i.t.c.h like Doll Baby says."

"All right then, what about you?" he said. "You ain't been lying. What you keep pleading Dulcy's case for then, if there ain't nothing to plead for?"

"I just don't want to see no more trouble, son," she moaned. "I just don't want to see no more blood spilt. Whatever it might have been, it's over with and she's all yours now, you can believe that."

"You ain't doing nothing but just adding to the mystery," he said.

"There ain't never been any mystery," she argued. "Not on her part. Not unless you made it."

"Okay, I made it," he said. "Let's drop it. What I called to tell you was I got her locked up in the bedroom--"

"Good Lord above!" she exclaimed. "What good you think that's going to do?"

"Just listen to me," he said. "The door's padlocked from the outside with a Yale lock. The key is on the kitchen shelf. I want you to go and let her out long enough to get something to eat and then lock her up again."

"Lord have mercy, son," she said. "How long do you think you can keep her locked up like that?"

"Until I straighten out some of these mysteries," he said. "That ought to be before the day's over."

"Don't forget one thing, son," she pleaded. "She loves you."

"Yeah," he said, and hung up.

Mantle dressed quickly in her black satin Mother Hubbard and her own men's shoes, dipped her bottom lip full of snuff and took the snuff stick and box of snuff along with her.

The sky was black-dark like an eclipse of the sun, and the street lights were still burning. Not a grain of dust nor a sc.r.a.p of paper moved in the still close air. People walked about silently, in slow motion, like a city full of ghosts, and cats and dogs tiptoed from garbage can to garbage can as though afraid their footsteps might be heard. Before she found an empty taxi she felt herself suffocating from the exhaust fumes that didn't rise ten feet above the pavement.

"It's going to rain tadpoles and bull frogs," the colored driver said.

"It'll be a blessing," she said.

She had her own set of keys to the apartment, but it took her a long time to get in because Grave Digger and Coffin Ed had left the locks unlocked and she locked them thinking she was opening them.

When finally she got inside she had to sit for a moment in the kitchen to steady her trembling. Then she took the key from the shelf and unlocked the bedroom door from the hall. She noticed that the bathroom door was standing open but her thoughts were so confused it held no meaning for her.

Dulcy was still asleep.

Maime covered her with a sheet and took the empty brandy bottle and gla.s.s back to the kitchen. She began cleaning the house to occupy her mind.

It was ten minutes to twelve and she was scrubbing the kitchen floor when the thunderstorm broke. She drew the shades, put away the scrub brush and pail and sat at the table with her head bowed low and began to pray, "Lord, show them the way, show them the light, don't let him kill n.o.body else."

The sound of the thunder had awakened Dulcy, and she stumbled toward the kitchen, calling in a frightened voice, "Spookie. Here, Spookie."

Mantle looked up from the table. "Spookie ain't here," she said.

Dulcy gave a start at sight of her. "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. "Where's Johnny?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Mantle asked.

"Tell me what?"

"He flew to Chicago."

Dulcy's eyes widened with terror and her face blanched to a muddy yellow. She flopped into a chair, but got up the next instant, got a bottle of brandy and a gla.s.s from the cabinet and gulped a stiff drink to quiet her trembling. But she kept on trembling. She brought the bottle and gla.s.s back to the table and sat down again and poured herself half a gla.s.s and started to drink it. Then she caught Mantle's look and put it down on the table. Her hand was trembling so violently the gla.s.s rattled on the enameled table top.

"Put on some clothes, child," Mamie said compa.s.sionately. "You're shaking from cold."

"I ain't cold," Dulcy denied. "I'm just scared to death, Aunt Mamie."

"I am, too, child," Mamie said. "But put on some clothes anyway, you ain't decent."

Dulcy got up without replying and went into the bedroom and put on a yellow flannel robe and matching mules. When she returned she picked up the gla.s.s and gulped the brandy down. She choked and sat down, gasping for breath.

Mantle dipped another lipful of snuff.

They sat silently without looking at each other.

Then Dulcy poured another drink.

"Don't, child," Mantle begged her. "Drinking ain't going to help none."

"Well, you got your lip full of snuff," Dulcy charged.

"That ain't the same thing," Mamie said. "Snuff purifies the blood."

"Alamena must have took her with her," Dulcy said. "Spookie, I mean."

"Didn't Johnny say nothing at all to you?" Mantle asked. A sudden clap of thunder made her shudder and she moaned, "G.o.d above, the world's coming to an end."

"I don't know what he said," Dulcy confessed. "All I know is he came sneaking in the back door and that's the last thing I remember."

"Was you alone?" Mantle asked fearfully.

"Alamena was here," Dulcy said. "She must have taken Spookie home with her." Then suddenly she caught Mamie's meaning. "My G.o.d, Aunt Mantle, you must think I'm a wh.o.r.e!" she exclaimed.

"I'm just trying to find out why he flew to Chicago all of a sudden," Mantle said.

"To check up on me," Dulcy said, gulping her drink defiantly. "For what else? He's always trying to check up on me. That's all he ever does, just check up on me." A roll of thunder rattled the windowpanes. "My G.o.d, I can't stand all that thunder!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "I got to go to bed."

She grabbed the brandy bottle and gla.s.s and fled to the bedroom. Lifting the top of the combination radio and record player, she put on a record, got into the bed and pulled the covers up to her eyes.

Mantle followed after a moment and sat in the chair beside the bed.

The wailing voice of Bessie Smith began to pour into the room over the sound of the rain beating against the windowpanes: