Black Gangster (13 page)

"If it happened like that," Morales began, "we shouldn't have any trouble."

"What the hell do you mean, if it happened like that? I just told you how it happened," Gazier snarled.

"We been getting angry calls from people who said they saw it different," Morales said coldly.

"What you mean by that, Morales? You got me and Fred's word on it. What you goin' do, take a bunch of black bastards' word over your fellow officers'?" He glared at his partner.

Morales made a gesture of impatience and walked away. "It's not up to me," he said over his shoulder. "We'll leave it up to the captain to handle."

Across town, Donnie walked out of the bedroom with his shorts on. His brow was pulled tight with worry. It was hard for his mind to accept the fact that Shortman was dead. The man had just left the house, and now he was lying in the morgue. It didn't matter that he had been given Shortman's former position. He enjoyed the prospect of being the big wheel now, but it carried a lot of responsibility he didn't really want. He had told the kids in the house about Shortman's death, and they were subdued from the shock. Donnie could feel the significance of it. He had a feeling that this was a turning point in his life and that he would now become one of the major actors on the stage. But he hoped not. He preferred the background. His shrewdness told him this was the best place.

Donnie's teenybopper came out of the bedroom behind him. She was wearing a half-slip with nothing on top but her bra. Her eyes followed him as he paced up and down. Something inside of her wanted to reach out and take him in her arms and console him with a woman's love, but she managed to stifle the emotion. He would resent it, she realized. She leaned against the wall and watched him patiently until he came over and took her hand and led her back into the bedroom.

Donnie knew with certainty that his promotion sealed his doom. He was caught in a box. There was no way out. He had seven brothers and sisters at home who were dependent on him. He had to make big money to survive. Between him and his mother, the house was run. His younger brother was preparing for college, so he knew he needed the promotion. He made up his mind to make as much money as possible before the end came. Maybe that way there would be enough money to hold his people until one of the younger ones could help.

From where Prince sat in his cell, there was no way to tell when morning came. He waited patiently until a trusty showed up and pushed a hard roll under his door.

The trusty pushed his face against the bars and whispered, "Hey, Prince, that you in there?"

Prince got up and peeped through the small bars. "Yeah, man, it's me. What's the deal?"

"Your partner Chinaman told me to tell you that Shortman got hit. He says the cops killed him last night." The trusty's voice was low, just carrying through the bars.

Prince was stunned. "What, man, you sure he knows what he's talkin' about?"

"Yeah, man, I'm sure. That's all the rollers are talking about upstairs. Seems like this stud Shortman got blasted running from the scene of a holdup."

"That's bullshit," Prince cursed, then asked, "Who shot him, man? Can you get the name of the pig that shot him?"

"That ain't no problem, baby. It was Lieutenant Gazier, man."

Prince returned to his seat, not even bothering to answer. His heart was filled with rage. It couldn't be anything but a frame-up. Shortman never carried a gun, and the last thing he would be involved in was a holdup. He swore angrily and started to pace his tiny cell. Even the offensive odor was beyond him now. He waited impatiently for the footsteps of the turnkey.

AFTER LEAVING the interrogation room, Prince stopped at the desk and picked up his personal belongings. The idle officers stared at him coldly. He returned their glares look for look. His lawyer came in with Chinaman. Both men remained silent until after Chinaman had picked up his stuff and they had left the station.

"I'm sorry about you guys having to put up with that crap all night, but that damn murder charge stopped me from being able to spring you on a writ or bond," the young lawyer explained.

The sound of a horn blowing caused Prince to look up. Ruby was sitting at the curb behind the steering wheel of one of their cars. "I understand, man," Prince replied, "but regardless of us, what's the deal on Little Larry? I want him out, man, as soon as possible."

"Don't worry, everything's under control." The lawyer's voice was smooth and convincing. "As soon as Larry comes up for his examination, we'll have that damn case thrown out. They're trying to be clever by using those murder charges, but it won't work. If they don't come up with any more evidence than what they had before, the judge will have to dismiss the case."

"See that it is," Prince replied coldly and walked off. As he neared the car, Ruby flashed her magnificent teeth in a lovely smile.

Blanca got out of the passenger side and smiled at Chinaman. "Hi, honey," she said as he got in. Her voice was soft and filled with love.

As the car pulled away from the curb, the women started to tell the news, but they were cut off. "We already know about it," Chinaman said.

"Preacher and his bunch went on a rampage last night," Ruby said slowly, feeling out her man's reactions.

"Yeah, I'll bet that helped a lot," Prince said, not even attempting to hide the sarcasm. "It ain't about that," he continued. "We can't beat the man in the streets fightin'. Whitey got all the guns and tanks in the world. What this thing is all about is cash. If we get enough of that green stuff, we'll be able to handle shit like this."

Both women felt disappointed because neither man had commented on the picket they had thrown around the station. Both of them remained silent, listening to the men.

"You know, I was thinkin', man," Chinaman began, "last night while I was locked up I kicked the idea around, Prince, and I believe I'm going to come down strong on all the pimps and hustlers in our neighborhood. You know, man, we got damn near as many Mexican pimps as you got black pimps in your neighborhoods."

Prince glanced up sharply. "Yeah, man," Chinaman continued, "I figure if we put the arm on some of these guys who keep talking about doing something but try and make a whore out of every broad that comes their way, we could show our neighborhood that we're really trying to do something."

Prince hushed Ruby when she started to say something. He wanted to listen to Chinaman.

"After the way them cats at the auditorium went for our speeches last night, Prince, it's only right that we really try and do something for our people. Man, this organization crap can really turn out to be a big thing."

"Yeah, man," Prince replied suddenly. "I'll give it some thought, but you hold on, Chinaman, don't put no pressure on them guys yet. We got to think this thing out. Ruby, head for the hideout, baby. I can take a bath and change clothes out there. We better talk to them studs out there, too, 'cause some of them might be a little worried over this shootin'."

Prince leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes. His instincts warned him that Chinaman could become a problem. He knew just what had happened. The guy had gotten a taste of power last night; he couldn't see it any other way. Dedication to a cause was beyond Prince's imagination. Everybody had to think of number one, he believed. It never entered his mind that Chinaman really believed they could do something constructive for the people in the ghettos. As far as Prince was concerned, there had always been ghettos, and there would always be ghettos. The people who lived there either learned how to get out or died in the small confines of their prison. It was cut and dried. He was well aware that he knew how to get out. All it took was money. There were two kinds of people in the world: the haves and the have-nots. If you were hungry, if you needed clothes, if your rent was overdue-take it. It was better to be a taker than one of those who got took!

When they got to the hideout, there were three black sedans and two Cadillacs parked in the private driveway. The house was one of the old mansions on Chicago Boulevard, kept at one time by a millionaire of the auto industry. The place still held a magnetic glory.

"Man, oh man!" Chinaman exclaimed as their car pulled around to the side of the house and stopped beside a fifty-foot swimming pool. "How did you manage to swing a place like this, Prince?" he asked excitedly.

Prince grinned. "I went through my lawyer. For five hundred dollars extra fee, he'd find some way to sell his mother."

The car came to a halt and was immediately sur rounded by a crowd of boys and girls. They had heard about Prince's arrest, and at the sight of their leader, they screamed their happiness.

"Prince," a young girl wearing shorts called. "If this is what you and Ruby call a hideout, I'd hate to see what kind of pad you and her stay in."

"Don't worry," Prince yelled back good-naturedly. "You and your man won't be left out of the goodies."

Kids began to stick their heads out of windows as news of Prince's arrival came to them. A large group of kids came running out of the house yelling at the newcomers.

Prince shouted over the uproar, "Chinaman, find Preacher, then ya'll get all the boys together someplace. We got some important matters to kick around." He spoke lower to Ruby. "Baby, you see to it that all the broads are taken inside the house until we get some matters taken care of."

He watched her as she rounded up the girls with Blanca's help. After they had been herded into the house, Prince waited until Chinaman returned with Preacher. They had rounded up most of the boys. In front of Prince there was a sea of faces, all of them young and dangerous.

Prince raised his hand for silence. "All of you are aware of what happened last night to Shortman, so we won't even go into that. It ain't no new thing to us. We been hep to what the white man calls justice." His voice went up on the word. "Justice means just one thing: just us. That's the only way whitey looks at itjust-us, and he wants us to accept justice for just-us. Well, we ain't going for it. We know what he means, so we can get down. Leave the bullshit for the squares who don't know no different."

He waved down their yelling impatiently. "There have been some changes made since quite a few of you came out here, so I've made it a point to send enough girls out to keep you from gettin' bored." He smiled as they grinned. "We may be out here for a while, so I want all of you to understand where we stand."

Prince stepped back to brush some imaginary dust off his silk suit. There were no wrinkles in his clothes to reveal that he had spent the night in jail. "Every one of us out here is going to have to do his share," he said, "if we want to come out of this on top." He stared out over the crowd, waiting for the murmuring to die down. "If we don't stick together now, a week from today every one of us will be in jail."

As a mutter of discontent broke out, Prince raised his hand for silence. "There's not a man out here who's not involved in this trouble up to his goddamn neck, so just shut your mouths and listen. I went to the trouble of having everybody I could reach brought out here, so there ain't no one left to put the finger on anyone."

"What about Larry?" Preacher asked suddenly. "He could put some of us on the spot."

As the sun beat down on them, Prince stared at Preacher's dark face. Preacher's eyes were hard, bleak, unreadable.

"Don't worry about Larry," Prince snapped. His eyes flashed sparks as he stared at the crowd of men around him. He was like a lean and hungry lion, aware of the responsibility of keeping his pride in line. From growing pressure, his reflexes had sharpened. Though he ruled over vicious creatures, he was by far the most vicious. His voice lashed out at the men. "I'll have Larry out of the county jail before next week, if he don't talk. If he starts to run his goddamn mouth, I'll have his mammy and every goddamn baby in her house killed." He hesitated for a moment, then added, "And that goes for any of you that might get diarrhea of the mouth."

His words carried a dangerous meaning that was not lost on anyone. All the men knew it was no idle threat.

"Actually," Prince said into the silence, "we don't really have anything to worry about. Just 'cause the papers have been playing up that second-degree murder charge, that really don't mean shit. I got an iron in the fire, so when I pull it out, Larry will be out on the street on bond, fighting a case of joy-riding."

The crowd broke into loud laughter. Chinaman stepped up and waved for silence. "They goin' have Shortman's funeral sometime this week, but most of you won't be there. Prince done already told me who to take, so if you ain't in the bunch, don't get no attitude. It's just playing safe, that's all. Ain't no reason to let the man pick ya up just 'cause someone got hit. It's sad, but it don't change the game. We're playing for big stuff, so the dues goin' be high at times. There's one thing you ain't got to worry about, though, we goin' send him off in style, so won't nobody be able to say we ain't lookin' out for our people. There will be enough of our people there so that everyone will know Shortman wasn't no loser."