Bad Boy Brawly Brown (34 page)

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“Now why they wanna keep somethin’ like that a secret?” Sam 12

asked his cousin.

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“Sam,” I said, “I let you come along but this is my party.”

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He didn’t like to hear it, but he sat back on the couch.

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“But you did know about the guns,” I said.

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She looked down at her knotted hands and nodded.

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“How’d you know?”

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“One day Brawly had Conrad’s Cadillac,” she whispered. “He 6

had let Conrad off at somebody’s place and they didn’t want his car 7

to be around there, so Brawly took it. He brought me out there and 8

showed me in the trunk. It was six or seven rifles wrapped in army 9

blankets.”

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“What he say they planned to do with them?”

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“He said that those rifles would take the first shots in the revolu-12

tion.” She began to weep.

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I believe that as she spoke to me, the full meaning of Brawly’s 14

words hit home. Sometimes you have to hear yourself saying some-15

thing out loud before you understand it.

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“Did he say what they planned to do?”

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She shook her head.

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“Did he tell you what he did with those guns after they took 19

them out from BobbiAnne’s place?”

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Again, no.

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“How did BobbiAnne and Conrad get together?” I asked, think-22

ing that a change of tempo might get me closer to what I didn’t 23

know.

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“Conrad got in trouble with some men who he had been gam-25

bling with,” Clarissa said. “They was gonna bust him up and so 26

Brawly called his high school girlfriend and asked her to put him up.

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You were right; her parents both died last year. Him of a heart attack 28

and then she just faded away.”

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“And after that is when BobbiAnne moved down to L.A.?”

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“Yeah,” Clarissa said. “She moved down to be near Conrad.”

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“And do you think that she was a part of this special group that 1

Strong started?”

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“No,” Clarissa said. “They didn’t have no white people in the 3

First Men. White people couldn’t come in the door, that was the 4

rule.”

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The image of those policemen breaking through the windows 6

went through my mind.

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“Where’s Brawly?” I asked.

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“I don’t know.”

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“You got any idea? Any at all?”

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“No, sir.”

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“What about Isolda?” I asked.

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“Who?” Sam chirped.

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I ignored him, staring at Clarissa’s downcast face.

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“What about her?” she asked.

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“Why do you hate her?”

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“Because’a what she did to Brawly.”

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“What’s that?”

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“It’s not for me to say.”

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“If you want me to try and help him, you better believe you bet-20

ter tell me somethin’.”

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Clarissa looked at me with real spite in her eyes. I could see that 22

she was going to tell me something, and somehow she believed that 23

I would be hurt by it.

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“She took him in when him and his father fought, and then she 25

tried to make him into her husband,” she said.

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“Who?” I asked.

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“Brawly,” she said, sneering. “She’d walk around the house with 28

no clothes on and come into his bed with him at night. She’d get 29

him all hot and make him love her.”

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I sat back in my chair.

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“What you say?” Sam asked.

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“She had sex with him until finally he stole a radio out of a store 4

so that the county would take him away,” Clarissa said.

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“She had sex with him.” Sam repeated the words as if they were 6

some intricate puzzle.

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“Do you know where Brawly is now?” I asked again.

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And again Clarissa shook her head.

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“Is he going to call?”

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“Not until Sunday,” she said.

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“That’ll be too late,” I muttered.

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“What you say, Easy?” Sam asked.

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I took a deep breath and stood up. “You gonna stay up here?” I 14

asked Clarissa.

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It was the first time she thought that she might leave the house 16

where Brawly had hidden her.

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“Yeah,” she said, darting a glance at Sam.

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“Come on back down with us, baby,” Sam said. “You can stay 19

with me and Margaret. You be safe there.”

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“Two people dead already,” I reminded her. “And none of us 21

know who’s doin’ it.”

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T
HE RIDE BACK
to L.A. was almost completely silent. Clarissa sat in the back.

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When we got in range of L.A.’s radio waves we listened to KGFJ, 27

the soul station. James Brown and Otis Redding serenaded our 28

bruised minds. Once Sam asked me if I ever heard from EttaMae —

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Mouse’s wife, the mother of his son, LaMarque, and one of my best 30 S

friends.

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“No,” I said. “She’s gone.”

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He didn’t follow up the question and I didn’t offer any explana-1

tions of my guilt.

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W
AIT UP A MINUTE,
Easy,” Sam said to me.

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I was parked in front of his house off of Denker at about 6

eight. He walked Clarissa into the house and I laid back and shut my 7

eyes. A pattern was beginning to appear in my mind. It wasn’t a 8

pretty picture, nor was it very clear. I still didn’t know where Brawly 9

fit, or if I could save him.

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I had a clear path of investigation, though. I knew what I was af-11

ter and I knew who and what might be after me.

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Sam came out and climbed into the passenger’s seat.

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“You think you could drop me off back at the restaurant?” he 14

asked.

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“Sure.”

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I didn’t do anything, though. I didn’t start the car or move very 17

much at all.

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“So we gonna go?” Sam asked.

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I lit a Chesterfield.

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“This ain’t bar talk, Sam.”

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“What ain’t?”

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“Not one thing you heard today,” I said. “Not that Riverside 23

house or Brawly Brown or the mention of army rifles. Loose lips 24

’bout any’a that shit get the man who said it dead.”

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Sam brought his hand to his long throat, trying to hide his fear 26

with a contemplative pose.

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“Get his cousin killed,” I continued, “and be a threat to my own 28

peace’a mind.”

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I turned to him with whatever it was my face looked like when I S 30

was deadly serious. “This shit can get you killed.”

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“I ain’t sayin’ a word, man,” Sam said.

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I stared at him until he looked away.

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Sam never tried to get under my skin again after that day. When 4

I’d come into Hambones he’d be friendly, but there was no more 5

sharp-edged banter or superiority on his part. I missed our old argu-6

ments but, on the other hand, I appreciated his fear.

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37
/ BY THE TIME
I got home the children had eaten 1

and gone to bed. Bonnie was curled up on the sofa, 2

reading a French novel in tight pants and a blue velvet shirt that was 3

buttoned only halfway up the front.

4

When I walked in she came to me and kissed me. She didn’t ask 5

why I was late or where I had been. She knew. She didn’t need me 6

to apologize for being me. I felt, at that moment, that Bonnie had 7

known me for my whole life.

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Dinner was waiting on the stove. Baked chicken and rice under 9

a peach gravy with brussels sprouts on the side. We ate and talked 10

about her travels in Africa and Europe with Air France. She was a 11

black stewardess working in three languages in a country I once con-12

sidered living in because it seemed so much better than America.

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“It’s better in some ways,” Bonnie once said when I suggested S 14

that we live together in Paris. “But it’s not without prejudice.”

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“Do they hang colored people in the countryside?” I asked.

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“No,” she said. “But that’s because in France they aren’t afraid of 3

blacks, just certain that we are from a lesser culture. We are interest-4

ing, but in the end just primitives. At least here in America the white 5

people I’ve met are afraid of Negroes.”

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“And that’s better?” I asked.

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“I believe so,” she said. It was a turn of a phrase that she’d learned 8

along the way. Bonnie picked up things from the way people spoke 9

and then used them in her own manner. “If you’re afraid of some-10

one, then in some way you are forced to think of them as equals. It is 11

not a child but a man you face.”

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She was a deep soul and I was lucky for the time I had to spend 13

with her.

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That night we didn’t make love but just held each other. I lis-15

tened to her breathing until it turned deep and I knew she was 16

asleep. I drifted on behind her, murder just a distant thunder in my 17

mind.

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I
HAD TWENTY-SEVEN
sick days accrued at that time and a pretty good union, so I called in sick the next morning and drove off to 22

see John at his construction site.

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He had on white overalls and old alligator shoes, one of which 24

had worn through over the little toe. He wore a tool belt and a wrist-25

watch with a thick gold band, and he was hammering away at a nail 26

in an awkward, one-handed fashion.

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“Hey, John,” I said.

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“Easy.”

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“I hope you using enough nails on that sucker,” I said.

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“I done had to buy so many nails that I do believe these here 31 R

houses could be called armored homes.”

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We both laughed and clasped hands.

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I suppose I was sensitive around that time. John and I rarely 2

shook hands. We were real friends with no need to express our 3

peaceful intentions. But that day there was an obstacle, maybe more 4

than one, between us. We held on to each other to make sure that we 5

didn’t get separated.

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“I heard that you were out by my house yesterday,” he said.

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“I needed to get the truth from her, John. You know I couldn’t do 8

that with you in the room.”

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“That truth gonna help you find Brawly?” There was an angry 10

edge in his tone.

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“Findin’ him ain’t gonna be nearly as hard as savin’ him.”

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“What’s that supposed to mean?”

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“Alva was right,” I said. “Brawly’s in sumpin’ bad.”

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“It’s them First Men,” John said.

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“Some of ’em,” I agreed. “But it’s more than that, too.”

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“What more?”

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“I’m not sure yet,” I said. “But did you know that Henry Strong, 18

one of the mentors to the First Men, used to come around here and 19

see Brawly?”

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“No.”

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“Did you know that Aldridge Brown used to come around to see 22

his son, too? They had lunch together more than once.”

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“I don’t believe it. Brawly hated Aldridge.”

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“Did he tell you that?”

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“Alva did,” John said. “He’s her son. She should know.”

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“Your mother’s still alive, ain’t she?” I asked.

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“You know she is.”