Cry Me A River (28 page)

“I don’t know no P. K.,” Rooster said, sticking to his story. “I swear I don’t.”

“He lying, Ty,” Beggar Man said. “Go’n and cap ‘im.”

Tyrone nodded, and looked at Beggar Man, then at Rooster. Yes, that was what he had to do—kill him. And after him, he would kill others. As many as he could before they came for him. He lowered the gun to his side and stepped back until he was standing directly in front of Rooster. And as he did so, he looked into Rooster’s eyes. Then his body stiffened, and as if in a trance, he raised the gun with a slow, steady arm. Inside his chest, he felt his heart pounding. Inside his mind, he heard a calming voice telling him that yes, this was as it had to be. He aimed, then closed one eye, preparing to shoot.
He saw Rooster’s large brown eyes widen; he saw his mouth open. He heard his terror-stricken voice scream.

“Wait, mister … Please … Don’t shoot me … I’ll tell you what I know.”

Tyrone lowered the gun.

“Where P. K.?” he asked.

“Mister, I don’t know no P. K. I swear I don’t.”

“He lying,” Beggar Man said.

Tyrone looked at him long and hard.

“But you do know the girl, don’t you?”

He paused and waited, but Rooster did not answer.

“He know her,” Beggar Man said. “He know her. Ole man Charlie said so.”

“Is that right?” Tyrone asked.

Rooster lowered his eyes and dropped his head. A quiet moment passed. Then, his lips parted. “Yeah,” he whispered. “I know her.”

Tyrone looked at him with cold, murderous eyes. “Thought you said you didn’t.”

“I know,” Rooster said in a weak, unsteady voice. “But I do.”

“So you lied.”

“Yeah, he lied,” Beggar Man said. “Nigger ain’t been doing nothing but lying since we met him. One goddamn lie after the other one.”

“I was scared.” Rooster tried to make him understand.

“Scared,” Tyrone said. “Scared of what?”

There was silence. Rooster didn’t answer.

“What happened that night?” Tyrone asked. His tone was low, menacing.

“I don’t know,” Rooster said. “I just don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me,” Tyrone said.

“Mister, I ain’t lying.”
”Give me the gun, Ty,” Beggar Man said. “Let me kill ‘im … Let me kill this sorry ass nigger.”

“Mister, I’m telling you the truth,” Rooster said. “I swear I am.”

“Who killed the girl?” Tyrone was blunt.

“I don’t know,” Rooster said. “I swear I don’t.”

“Ole Charlie said he seen you with her,” Tyrone said in a tone of voice implying Rooster’s involvement. “He said he seen you with her the night she died.”

“Well, I’ll just be goddamned,” Beggar Man said. “He killed her, Ty. This goddamn nigger killed her.”

“No,” Rooster said. “I picked her up that night … and I dropped her off … But I didn’t hurt her … I swear I didn’t.”

Suddenly, Tyrone could feel his heart pumping fast.

“You picked her up in front of the store?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I picked her up. But I didn’t hurt her. I didn’t.”

“In Peterson’s blue truck?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Mister, you got to believe me. I didn’t hurt her. I swear I didn’t. I swear before Almighty God.”

“He lying, Ty,” Beggar Man said. “Nigger lying through his goddamn teeth.”

“No, I ain’t,” he said. “I telling the truth, mister. I swear I am.”

“Why?” Tyrone asked.

Rooster looked at him, confused. He did not understand the question. “Why, what?” he said.

“Why did you pick her up?”

“She flagged me down,” he said, looking Tyrone directly in the eye. “She wanted a ride. So I picked her up and dropped her off. That’s why.”

“Dropped her off where?” Tyrone asked.

“At Peterson’s house.”

“Alive?”

“Yeah!” Rooster exclaimed, his voice high, shrill, excited. “She was alive … I didn’t hurt her. Mister, you got to believe me … I didn’t hurt her.”

Tyrone paused, thinking. “So, she worked that night?” he said.

“I guess so,” he said. “I don’t know … I just dropped her off … I don’t know.”

“How long was she up there?” Tyrone asked.

“I don’t know,” he said. “I left.”

“But Peterson saw her.”

“I guess so.”

“What you mean, you guess?”

“Mister, I just dropped her off at the end of the road. His car was home … I guess he saw her … I don’t know.”

“But you saw her go in the house.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I waited just in case he wasn’t there. But she went in and didn’t come back out. So I left.”

“But somebody up there saw her.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I guess … I don’t know. She went in the house and didn’t come out … I guess they did … But I don’t know.”

Tyrone looked at Beggar Man, then at Rooster.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Rooster asked.

“To town,” Tyrone said.

“For what?” Rooster wanted to know.

“To see the chief of police,” Tyrone told him.

“The chief … Hell no!” Rooster shook his head. “I ain’t going … un unnh … no way.”

“You going,” Tyrone said. “And when you get there, you gone tell this to the police just like you told it to me.”

“Un unnh … No … If I do that, they gone think I did it.”

“That ain’t my problem,” Tyrone said. “That ain’t my problem at all.”

“I didn’t hurt that girl,” Rooster said. “I swear I didn’t.”

“I don’t care who hurt her,” Tyrone said. “As long as everybody know my son didn’t.”

“I ain’t going,” Rooster said.

Tyrone raised the gun so that Rooster could see it.

“You going,” he said. “You going one way or the other.”

He said that, and then it was quiet. They regarded each other for a moment, and then, as they turned to leave, Tyrone’s roving eyes spied a telephone on the small table next to the sofa. Without warning, he crossed the room and lifted the receiver, then dialed Captain Jack’s office. A woman answered.

“Captain Jack there?” he said.

“He’s with a client.” she told him.

“Is this Miss Rainer?” he asked.

“Yes, it is.” She identified herself.

“Miss Rainer, this Tyrone,” he said. “Tyrone Stokes.”

“Hello, Mr. Stokes,” she said. “How are you?”

“Fine,” he said. “Can you give Captain Jack a message for me?”

“Sure,” she said. “What’s the message?”

“Tell him to meet me at the police station.”

“The police station!” she exclaimed.

“Yeah,” he said. His voice was urgent. “I should be there in fifteen minutes.”

“What’s going on?” she asked, then waited.

“Tell him to hurry,” Tyrone said. “Tell him I found the killer.”

“No,” he heard Rooster protest behind him. “I didn’t kill her … I swear I didn’t.”

“Shut up, nigger,” Beggar Man said. “Shut the hell up.”

N
ear the police station, Tyrone walked along the sidewalk with his eyes fixed on the small building just ahead. Rooster was behind him, and Beggar Man was behind Rooster, pressing him close, making sure that he did not do something stupid, like break and run before he had done what they had brought him there to do. At the building, Tyrone opened the door, then stopped abruptly. He looked at Rooster. Rooster’s shifty eyes were open wide. And Tyrone could see that he was jumpy, uneasy. He grabbed Rooster underneath the collar and pulled him close.

“Git this right,” he said. “Git it right or you gone have to deal with me.”

The main office was located on the first floor just off a short hall. As the three of them approached the entrance, Tyrone could hear the sound of two men inside the room talking. And though he could not see them, he was sure they were white. He could tell by the intonations of their voices and by the all too familiar sound of their thick southern drawls. When he appeared
before the door, he was all but sure their conversation was not over, but as soon as they saw him, they stopped talking. Both of them were police officers in uniform. The one closest to him could have been performing the duties of a clerk; he was standing behind an elongated counter recording information on a pad. The one farthest away was sitting at a desk in front of a computer screen, typing.

“Can I help you?” the one closest to him muttered. He was big and burly and did not appear to be too friendly.

“Need to see the chief,” Tyrone said.

“‘Bout what?” the officer asked. He had stopped what he was doing and was looking at Tyrone with large, suspicious eyes.

“It’s personal,” Tyrone said.

The officer looked at him, then at Rooster, then at Beggar Man.

“Chief ain’t available,” he said. “Maybe I can help.”

“No,” Tyrone said. “Need to see the chief.”

“I told you he ain’t available,” the officer said.

“Tell ‘im my name Stokes,” Tyrone said. “Tyrone Stokes.”

The officer frowned. “That supposed to mean something?” he asked. The officer sitting farthest away chuckled, amused.

“Just appreciate if you tell him,” Tyrone said.

When the officer behind the desk had chuckled, the one standing behind the counter had turned and looked at him and laughed, too. But when Tyrone spoke again, he whirled back around and stared at him, dumbfounded. “You hard of hearing?” he asked.

“Naw,” Tyrone said. “I hear just fine.”

“Then, what part of he’s not available don’t you understand?”

“I understand,” Tyrone said. “Just need to see the chief, that’s all.”

Perturbed, the officer opened his mouth to say something else, but before he could, the door behind him opened, and the chief of police walked out, followed by Captain Jack. Tyrone looked at the chief, then at Captain Jack. Captain Jack nodded but did not speak. He and the chief had been drinking coffee. The chief was still holding his cup. Captain Jack was not.

“Chief, these people say they want to see you,” the officer said. “They won’t tell me what it’s about.” He paused and looked at Tyrone. “That one there say his name
Stokes.”
He emphasized Stokes, and Tyrone knew that he was mocking him. “Tyrone Stokes.”

He said that, and the officer at the desk chuckled again. The chief walked around the counter, and Captain Jack followed him.

“What can I do for you?” the chief asked.

Tyrone glanced at the chief and then at Captain Jack. He knew they had been discussing him. He could tell by the expression on Captain Jack’s face. Tyrone stepped aside, and Beggar Man nudged Rooster forward.

“He got something to tell you,” Tyrone said.

Rooster looked at the chief, then dropped his gaze.

“Well,” the chief said after a moment had passed. “What is it?”

Rooster did not look up. His eyes glared at the floor.

“Go ‘n,” Tyrone said. “Tell ‘im.”

There was silence.

Tyrone saw the chief look at Captain Jack. Then he saw Captain Jack hunch his shoulders and shake his head.

“Well, you got something to say to me or not?” the chief growled.

“Tell him,” Tyrone said. “Tell him right now.”

They waited, but Rooster remained quiet.

“Mr. Stokes, what is this all about?” Captain Jack broke the silence. The chief took a sip of his coffee. Tyrone could see that he was agitated.

“He did it,” Tyrone said. “He did it … not Marcus.”

Suddenly, the room grew quiet, and all eyes fell on Rooster.

“No …,” he said. “I didn’t … I swear I didn’t.”

“Didn’t what?” the chief asked, his tone indicating confusion.

“He picked her up that night,” Tyrone said. “He did it … not Marcus.”

Captain Jack looked at Tyrone.

“How do you know that?” he asked, stunned.

“He told me,” Tyrone said.

“Jack, what’s going on here?” the chief said. He looked at Captain Jack, but Captain Jack was not looking at him. He was looking at Rooster.

“Is that true?” Captain Jack asked Rooster. “Did you know Amy Talbert … Did you pick her up that night?”

Rooster’s eyes widened; he began to fidget.

“It’s true,” Tyrone blurted. “He admitted it a little while ago.”

Rooster shook his head again. Then looked up, then back down.

“He lying,” Tyrone said. “He know he lying.”

“What happened to your lip?” the chief asked Rooster.

“Nigger fell,” Beggar Man said.

“And who are you?” the chief asked, his angry eyes on Beggar Man.

“A friend,” Beggar Man said.

The chief studied Beggar Man; then his eyes strayed back to Rooster’s lip.

“They do that to you?” he asked.

Rooster gave a nervous nod but did not speak.

“He lying,” Tyrone said. “We didn’t touch him.”

“Conversation over,” the chief said.

“No,” Tyrone said. “He did it.”

“Conversation over,” the chief repeated himself.

“He picked her up that night,” Tyrone said. “He already admitted it. Go on and ask him … Ask him if he didn’t pick her up … Ask him.”

“Well,” Captain Jack said. “Did you?”

Rooster didn’t answer. Instead, he kept his eyes averted.

“He did it,” Beggar Man said. “I heard him say it with my own ears.”

“Did he admit it before or after he fell?” the chief asked.

“We didn’t touch him,” Tyrone said again.

“Harland, if this is true, you know it changes everything,” Captain Jack said.

“Jack, I don’t know what in the hell you are trying to pull here,” the chief said. “But I don’t believe one goddamn word they’re saying.”

“It’s true,” Tyrone said. “He did it … not Marcus.”

“Harland, I resent that,” Captain Jack said. “I resent it. I do.”

“Well, you’re gonna just have to resent it,” the chief said. “Because I don’t believe ‘em … I don’t believe ‘em one bit.” He turned toward Rooster. “Look at that boy’s mouth, Jack. Hell, look like they done beat him damn near to death.” The chief paused, then looked at Beggar Man. “Boy, ain’t I seen you before? Ain’t you been in my jail?”

“Ain’t been in your jail or nobody else’s,” Beggar Man lied.

The chief stared at him long and hard; Beggar Man stared back.

“Watch yourself, boy,” the chief said. “You best watch yourself, now.”

Beggar Man’s lips parted as if he was about to say something else, but before he could, Tyrone interrupted him.