Bad Boy Brawly Brown (23 page)

“Yeah,” he admitted, unperturbed.

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“Where from?”

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“A couple’a months ago. Brawly came by with him. They took 29

me an’ Chapman to Blackbird’s for a shot or two.”

30 S

“What he have to say?”

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“Just all that black shit. You know, how we all should have what
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the white man have. He wanted us to come down to his meetin’-

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house. I told him no.”

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“What did Chapman say?”

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“Why don’t you ask Chapman?”

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“I’m askin’ you, Mercury. I figure you owe me one thing, at 5

least.”

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“You have my gratitude, Mr. Rawlins. But I ain’t tellin’ you 7

nuthin’ ’bout my friends. No, sir.”

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Of course he’d told me volumes by refusing to talk.

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“Why you askin’ ’bout Strong and them places down the way?”

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Mercury asked.

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“No reason really,” I said. “I saw him down at the place where 12

Brawly’s been hangin’ out. I tell ya, tryin’ to get a handle on Brawly 13

is givin’ me more trouble than I figured.”

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“Yeah,” Mercury said. “That Brawly’s a mess.”

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“Well,” I said. “I better be goin’.”

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I stood up.

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“Okay,” Mercury replied. “Honey, Mr. Rawlins’s leavin’.”

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Blesta came out wearing a white apron over her housedress.

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There was a chocolate smudge under her left breast.

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“Cain’t you stay for dinner . . . Easy?”

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“Got to go.” I shook hands with her.

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“This is for you,” little Artemus Hall said, holding up the clown 23

torn from his coloring book.

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I took the leaf and stared at it. The clown’s head was tilted 25

slightly to the side. Artemus had made the face white and brown with 26

big red tears coming out of the sad eyes.

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“Thank you very much, Arty. I’m gonna put this one up in my 28

kitchen. I gotta corkboard in there and I’m gonna put this one up on 29

a tack.”

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I could see Mercury in the boy’s smile.

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/ THE NEXT PERSON
on my list was Tina Montes.

She’d been kind to me the night the police broke

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in on the First Men and I pulled her out of there before they could 4

crack her skull.

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She lived in a rooming house on Thirty-first Street. The woman 6

who owned it, Liselle Latour, was a pal of mine from the old days in 7

Houston, Texas. Liselle had been born Thaddie Brown but changed 8

her name when she ran away from home at thirteen. She’d turned to 9

prostitution and had become a madam by the time she was twenty-10

five. She left Houston in ’44 with her partner/bodyguard/boyfriend 11

Franklin Nettars. Frank had been pestering Liselle to leave Houston 12

for years. He told her that the black folks up in L.A. made real money 13

and that a small whorehouse around there would make them rich.

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Liselle would have never left but for a fight that had come to pass 15 R

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in her house of ill repute. A white man — I never got his name —

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had a disagreement with one of the whores and wound up with a 2

knife in his throat. The woman was arrested. Liselle managed to stay 3

out of jail but she knew her name had been placed on the police list.

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And once you went on the police list in Houston, you either died, 5

went to jail, or left town.

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They took a sleeper cabin in a special colored car on the
Sunset
7

Express
from Houston to L.A. The whole way Franklin was telling 8

Liselle how great it would be when they got to California.

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“He’d be sayin’,” Liselle told me, “that you could live pickin’

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fruit off’a the trees while you was walkin’ down the street.” She al-11

ways smiled when she mentioned his name.

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The porter dropped by their cabin to tell them that they were 13

just about to cross the California line.

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“Ten seconds after that,” Liselle said, “he got a heart attack. Hit 15

him so hard that he only felt it a few seconds before he was dead.”

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I never thought about Liselle loving Franklin. I mean, they 17

seemed more like business partners than soul mates. But when Frank-18

lin died, Liselle was a changed woman. She took her life savings and 19

bought the place on Thirty-first. She made it a rooming house for 20

single women and didn’t even let a male visitor past the ground floor.

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She never even dated another man and became very involved with 22

the dealings of the church.

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Liselle became virtuous and solitary but she didn’t forget her old 24

friends. Neither did she pretend that she’d come from some up-25

standing moral background. Liselle told everyone what she had been 26

because, as she’d say, “I don’t want you findin’ out someday and then 27

gettin’ mad that I lied to ya.”

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She was happy to see her old friends and even share a drop of 29

spirits with them.

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That’s why I felt no trepidations approaching her home.

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There were two doors to the three-story wooden building, one up 3

front and the other on the side. The front door was for the women 4

and girls; the side was Liselle’s private entrance.

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When I knocked, Liselle opened up almost immediately. Her 6

front door was across the way from the inside door to the entrance 7

hall of the rooming house. Liselle spent most of her day sitting in be-8

tween the doors, sewing or reading her Bible. From there she’d greet 9

her boarders and make sure that no man snuck upstairs.

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“Easy Rawlins,” she cried. “Baby, how are you?”

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“Just fine, Miss Latour. And you?”

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“Workin’ off my sins one ounce at a time,” she said gladly.

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The years had not been kind to Liselle. Her face had crossed 14

over into middle age, and for every ounce of sin she’d lost she put on 15

an ounce of fat. I hardly recognized the beautiful young woman that 16

the men in the Fifth Ward used to throw their money at.

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“What you doin’ here?” she asked. Her eyes narrowed.

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“Why? Cain’t I come by and shout at an old friend some evenin’?”

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“I don’t think so.”

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“Why not?”

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“What you want, Easy?”

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“I want to sit down.”

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Reminded of her manners, Liselle gestured toward the chair 24

across from hers. She closed the hall door and slapped her hands 25

down on her knees.

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“Well?” she asked.

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“I don’t get it,” I said. “Why you think I’m’a be here for some 28

kinda business?”

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“Because trouble follows you, Easy Rawlins. It always has, and it 30 S

always will.”

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“You talkin’ like I’m some kinda gangster,” I said. “But you know
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I’m not like that. I got a job at Sojourner Truth Junior High School 1

and I’ve raised two kids on my own. What kinda gangster does that?”

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“You the one said ‘gangster,’ not me. I just said that trouble fol-3

lows you. Whenever I hear about you, I hear about somebody outta 4

jail or back in, somebody gettin’ killed or robbed or beat up by the 5

cops. Even them kids you got come outta worlds where adults would 6

be hard-pressed to survive — that’s what I heard.

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“But most of all, I know you married to trouble because of Ray-8

mond Alexander. Everybody who ever been anywhere around Mouse 9

know that there’s some kinda mess on to brew. Young women cain’t 10

help it. They see a man like Raymond an’ their tongues start to wag-11

gin’ an’ their panties get wet. But men who ran with Mouse are 12

either fools or magnets for trouble their own selfs.”

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“Mouse is dead,” I said.

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“And if the stories I hear is right, you the one dropped the body 15

off on EttaMae’s front grass.”

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I had forgotten how thorough the grapevine was.

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“Many a day,” Liselle continued, “I had to shoo Mr. Alexander 18

away from my girls’ door. He come up at me all blustery, but I shook 19

my broom at him. An’ you know evil as he was, he always backed 20

down.

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“But you know,” she added, “I don’t think that he really is dead.”

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“You don’t? Why not?”

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“Just how Etta left. I believe that if he had died, she would’a 24

made a funeral, invited everyone who ever loved him and everyone 25

who wanted to make sure that he was gone. ’Cause you know Mouse 26

had many enemies. Like you have, Easy.”

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“Now I got to look over my shoulder?” I said, trying to sound 28

amused.

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“Man who travel in bad company got to expect grief and misery S 30

at the do’.”

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“I can see that I knocked on the wrong door today.”

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“I’ll tell you what, Easy,” Liselle said. “I will prove to you that 3

you come here because’a trouble.”

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“All right, prove it.”

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“Christina Montes,” she said.

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That brought the curtain down on my repartee. I think I man-7

aged to keep my mouth closed, but still Liselle smiled.

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“Am I right?”

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“Yes, ma’am,” I said with a sigh that I felt down in what the doc-10

tors called my bronchioles.

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Liselle grinned and sat back in her wooden chair. She stretched 12

her hand behind her and plucked a pint bottle from the edge of a 13

bookcase. There was a small juice glass on the floor next to the chair.

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This she filled halfway with the amber fluid. She knew that I had 15

given up drinking and so didn’t offer me a drink.

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“What’s wrong with Tina?” I asked.

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“Same thing that’s wrong with all women.”

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I raised my eyebrows to ask for the other shoe.

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“Men,” Liselle said. Her tone was more lascivious than it was an-20

gry. “Men mornin’, noon, and night are the bane of women and the 21

joy of their lives.”

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“She see a lotta men?”

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“You just need one bad apple, Easy. You know that.”

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“Does this bad apple have a name?”

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“I call him the X-man,” Liselle said. “But she call him Xavier.”

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“And how is this Xavier trouble?”

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“Oh, don’t get me wrong, Easy. He’s a good boy. If I was his 28

mama, I’d swell with pride every time he walked into a room or 29

opened his mouth. He’s skinny as a rail but brave and proud as a 30 S

lion. That’s the kinda man a good woman want to have around.”

31 R

“So Tina’s a good woman?”

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“Good as they come. Manners and charm. She got it all. Know 1

how to fold a napkin on her lap and cleans up after herself without 2

bein’ asked.”

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“Don’t sound like trouble to me,” I said innocently.

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“Yeah. You talk that sweet talk, baby. But you know the cops 5

been to me askin’ about her, throwin’ dirt on her name” — I didn’t 6

know but I had suspected as much — “an’ you know that the First 7

Men been comin’ by with com’unist leaflets and rough talk about 8

killin’ and burnin’ down the street. I asked ’em was they gonna burn 9

down my house and they said no, but how you gonna start a fire an’

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ask it to skip the houses you want to save? Once the flames get goin’, 11

they burn down everything.”

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“What did the police say?”

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“That she was a revolutionary and could they search her room 14

for arms.”

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“Did you let them in?”

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“Hell no. Shit. I got two guns under my own bed and another 17

one in the hall closet. What the hell do it mean to have a gun?”

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“How about a man named Henry Strong?” I asked.

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“Yeah. Yeah. He was here. She introduced me to him as if he was 20

a bowl of ice cream in the middle of the Sahara Desert. It wouldn’t 21