Bad Boy Brawly Brown (42 page)

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I explained about John and Alva and the wayward Brawly Brown.

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“Brawly’s big as a grizzly bear,” I was saying, “and at least as strong.

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There’s no way I can stop him or force him. I don’t believe that John 11

and I together could hold him down. So I need you to do one more 12

thing for me.”

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Odell took one more shot of scotch while I sipped on my lemon-14

ade. After our drink he got my gloves and rifle. The gun was all bro-15

ken down in a leather case. I gave him the phone number with a 16

little speech I wanted him to recite at seven-thirty.

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I
PARKED OUT BACK
in an alley behind the empty office building next to the used-car lot and across the street from John’s building.

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I jimmied open the back door and then forced my way into an office 22

on the third floor. That was 6:35.

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I opened the window and sat there in the twilight thinking that 24

Mouse was advising me even after he was gone.

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I thought about him and Etta, about their crazy life. There was 26

no rancor or condemnation in my thoughts. We had all made it by 27

sheer dumb luck. Any poor black child of the South who woke up in 28

the morning was lucky if he lived to make it to bed that night. You 29

were bound to be beaten, stabbed, and shot at least once or twice.

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The question wasn’t if you were going to get killed, it was, were you 31 R

going to get killed on that particular day?

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“Easy,” Mouse would say to me. “You know you just too sensi-1

tive. You think that you can keep somethin’ bad from happenin’ here 2

or there. But that kinda power ain’t in your reach. It was all settled a 3

long time ago. What happens with you — when you get borned, 4

when you die, who you kill, who kills you — that was all writ down 5

in your shoes and your blood. Shit. You be walkin’ down the road 6

outside’a Pariah, hopin’ that New Orleans is just beyond that yonder 7

stand of live oaks. But it ain’t. No, baby, you want it, you want it bad, 8

but there’s just more swamp after them trees, and more swamp after 9

that.”

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My respect for Raymond was intense because he never worried 11

about or second-guessed the world around him. He might have got-12

ten tired now and then, but he never gave up. When I thought about 13

that, I knew I had to go search out his grave.

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A
T 7:15 I PUT MY WATCH
on the windowsill and opened Odell’s 17

gun case. That .25-caliber rabbit gun was his pride and joy. I 18

screwed in the barrel and fit the cherrywood stock into place. The 19

best part of his rifle was its telescopic sight. Back when I first came to 20

L.A., Odell would go out hunting and come back with enough rab-21

bits to feed Maudria, him, and me — and two or three others be-22

sides.

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I filled the magazine and pointed the muzzle through the win-24

dow at the front door. I held that pose, glancing at the Gruen now 25

and then. At 7:30 I knew that Odell was making the call.

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“The cops!” Odell would have yelled. “The cops comin’!” And 27

then he’d hang up.

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At 7:32 the door swung open. Brawly came lumbering out with a 29

large paper bag in his arms. When he turned back to the open door, S 30

I fired the first shot. He yelled in pain and fell to the ground. I fired R 31

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again. From the open door Conrad emerged. He screamed some-2

thing and made to grab Brawly by his arm. I fired again. That bullet 3

missed Conrad. He was so scared that he dropped the bag he was car-4

rying and fled down the street.

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I raised my sight to the upper floor. John came out. When he saw 6

the prostrate boy, he ran for the stairs. I had never seen John run be-7

fore.

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I turned over on my back, broke down the rifle, packed it away, 9

and headed for the stairs. Within minutes I was in my car and driv-10

ing back to my own home and my own children.

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/ JESUS READ TO ME
from
Moby-Dick
and Feather 1

bragged on her good math test. Bonnie served me

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reheated lamb shank in a cognac gravy, and I started on chores that 3

I’d ignored for days.

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No one called. There was going to be a robbery in the morning, 5

but there was nothing I could do about that.

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Before I went to bed I called Primo.

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“Hey, Easy. How you doing?”

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“How’s the girl?” I asked.

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“Still a little dizzy,” he replied. “Flower been giving her a special 10

tea that makes her sleep.”

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“You can stop that in the morning,” I said.

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E
ASY?” BONNIE ASKED,
lying there next to me. I was staring at the ceiling, wondering if I’d get a wink.

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“Yeah?”

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“Did you finish with that business about Alva’s son?”

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“Yeah. Finished.”

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“Is he in trouble?”

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“Not no more he ain’t.”

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“John is really lucky to have a friend like you.”

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“Yeah,” I said. “Lucky as a prize pig after the county fair.”

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I
HEARD IT
on the radio at ten-thirty. Three black men and one white woman had gotten into a shootout with the city police and 14

county sheriffs in Compton. The unidentified men were attempting 15

to rob a payroll delivery for the Manelli Construction Company.

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They tried to run the armored car off the road, but little did they 17

know that the authorities had been tipped off and the car was filled 18

with armed officers. The would-be robbers had all died while still in 19

their vehicle. The officers had opened fire when it became obvious 20

that they were threatened by the sideswiping car.

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I remembered the plans tacked to the wall in the thieves’ tem-22

porary hideout. They hadn’t planned to ram the payroll car. They 23

were going to overpower the guards on their way to the office.

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A
T WORK THAT AFTERNOON
I sat down to an Underwood typewriter and composed a letter to Teaford Lorne, captain of a spe-28

cial anticrime unit. In my unsigned letter I told him about Lakeland 29

and Knorr and the extra-special police unit set up to take down the 30 S

Urban Revolutionary Party. I sent copies of that letter to the regional 31 R

office of the NAACP, the
Los Angeles Examiner,
and the mayor’s office.

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I never read about it in the newspaper, but three weeks after I 1

sent those letters I drove by Lakeland’s onetime headquarters. The 2

building was up for lease. Maybe they had planned to close up shop 3

after the killing of Mercury and his gang. Maybe I should have done 4

more to bring their crime to the public eye, but I couldn’t think of a 5

thing that wouldn’t have put my own family in danger.

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T
WO MONTHS LATER
I took my little brood over to John’s new 9

house in Compton. He had invited us for a late-afternoon Sun-10

day supper. Everybody on John’s side of the table was convalescing.

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He had wrenched his back from falling off the roof of the very house 12

we were eating in. He had been putting up the last touch, the televi-13

sion antenna, when he lost his balance and fell.

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Alva was just two weeks out of the mental ward in the hospital.

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When we’d gotten to the house she was still in her bathrobe, with 16

her hair going all over the place. Bonnie and Feather took her into 17

the bedroom and when they came out she was dressed and brushed 18

and made up. The only wear you could see was in her pained gaze.

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Brawly still had a limp from where he’d been shot in the thigh 20

and buttock. John had rushed him to the hospital and stayed with 21

him for two days.

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“How’s L.A.C.C.?” I asked the boy.

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“Good,” he said. “They got me finishin’ my high school courses.

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I’ma start college history classes next semester.”

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It was a simple meal, made by Sam Houston and delivered by 26

Clarissa, who couldn’t stay because she was due to work for her 27

cousin that afternoon. Chicken and dumplings with a cranberry-28

orange relish and country salad.

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Jesus told John all about his boat and his plans to travel up and S 30

down the Pacific Coast. He said that he was going to live off the R 31

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ocean, eating fish and seaweed the way his friend Taki Takahashi’s 2

father said they did when their grandparents first came to America. It 3

was more than he had ever told me.

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“The minister says that prayer erodes the grip of sin in the 5

world,” Alva said at one point. She’d been reading her Bible every 6

day while John and Chapman finished off his lot.

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A
FTER DINNER JOHN AND I
went outside for a smoke. For a long time we just stared out at the sky. He was leaning against 11

the front wall because of the injury and I was sitting on the stair.

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“Nice house,” I said after a few minutes of silence.

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“Yep.”

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“You say you still workin’ with Chapman?” I asked.

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John looked at me then. “Yeah. Why?”

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“Oh. I don’t know. I mean with Mercury all messed up in that 17

robbery attempt . . . I don’t know . . . I thought you might wanna let 18

him loose.”

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“He didn’t have nuthin’ to do with it.”

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“He tell you that?”

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“Brawly told me,” John said.

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“Oh.” It was the first time John had hinted that he knew any-23

thing about Brawly’s dealings with Mercury and the crew.

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“He was in on it,” John continued. “Alva was right about them 25

people he was runnin’ with.”

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“I guess the man who shot him that day saved his life.”

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“They could’a killed him,” John said. “As it is, he’s gonna limp 28

for the rest of his life. Doctor said that that bullet in his buttock came 29

within half a inch from his main nerve.”

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“Better lame than dead,” I said.

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A harsh note escaped John’s lips. Someone who didn’t know him
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might have mistaken it for a cry of derision, but I recognized coarse 1

humor in his tone.

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“What about Isolda?” I asked.

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“What about her?”

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“Brawly still in touch?”

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“He said she left L.A. The police were lookin’ to talk to her about 6

Aldridge, and she asked him for bus money for down South.”

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John pushed himself into a standing position and lurched up 8

past me. He stopped at the door.

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“You a good friend, Easy Rawlins,” he said. “But if I had my 10

druthers, I’d never have to call on you again.”

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He went into the house and I stayed outside, smoking in the 12

desert twilight.

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