"Could be again," he said. "Could be again. And maybe you could help." He reached down to scratch the little boy behind the ear.
"I don't know what you mean. I don't know nuthin'."
"The police wanted to know what you did after you had drinks with Coretta James and Dupree Bouchard."
"Yeah?"
"I don't care about that, Easy. All I want to know is if somebody used the name Daphne Monet."
I shook my head, no.
"Did anybody," he hesitated, "strange … want to talk to Coretta?"
"What you mean, strange?"
Matthew Teran smiled at me for a moment, then he said, "Daphne is a white girl, Easy. Young and pretty. It means an awful lot to me if I can find her."
"I can't help ya, man. I don't even know why they pulled me in there. Do you know?"
Instead of answering me he asked, "Did you know Howard Green?"
"I met'im once or twice."
"Did Coretta say anything about him that night?"
"Not a word." It felt good to tell the truth.
"How about your friend Dupree? Did he say anything?"
"Dupree drinks. That's what he does. And when he's finished drinking, then he goes to sleep. That's what he did. That's all he did."
"I'm a powerful man, Mr. Rawlins." He didn't need to tell me. "And I wouldn't want to think that you were lying to me."
"Do you know why the cops took me in?"
Matthew Teran picked up the little Mexican boy and hugged him to his chest.
"What do you think, honey?" he asked the boy.
Thick mucus threatened to flow from the boy's nose. His mouth was open and he stared at me as if I were a strange animal. Not a dangerous animal, maybe the corpse of a dog or porcupine run over and bleeding on the highway.
Mr. Teran picked up an ivory horn that hung next to his head and spoke into it. "Norman, take Mr. Rawlins where he wants to go. We're finished for the time being." Then he handed the horn to me. It smelled strongly of sweet oils and sour bodies. I tried to ignore the smells as I gave Norman the address of John's speak.
"Here's your money, Mr. Rawlins," Teran said. He was holding a few damp bills in his hand.
"No thanks." I didn't want to touch anything that that man had touched.
"My office is listed in the book, Mr. Rawlins. If you find something out I think you might find me helpful."
When the car stopped in front of John's I got out as fast as I could.
"Easy!" Hattie yelled. "What happened to you, baby?" She came around the counter to put her hand on my shoulder. "Cops," I said.
"Oh, baby. Was it about Coretta?"
Everyone seemed to know about my life.
"What about Coretta?"
"Ain't you heard?"
I just stared at her.
"Coretta been murdered," she said. "I hear the police took Dupree outta his job 'cause he been out there with her. And I knowed you was with'em on Wednesday so I figured the police might'a s'pected you."
"Murdered?"
"Just like Howard Green. Beat her so bad that it was her mother who had to tell'em."
"Dead?"
"What they do to you, Easy?"
"Is Odell here, Hattie?"
"Come in 'bout seven."
"What time is it?"
"Ten."
"Could you get Odell for me?" I asked.
"Sure can, Easy. You just let me get Junior t'do it."
She stuck her head in the door and then came back. In a few minutes Odell came out. I could see that I must've looked bad by the expression on Odell's face. He rarely showed any emotion at all but right then he looked like he'd seen a ghost.
"Could you give me a ride home, Odell? I don't have my car."
"Sure thing, Easy."
Odell was quiet for most of the ride but when we got close to my house he said, "You better get some rest, Easy."
"I sure intend to try, Odell."
"I don't mean just sleep, now. I mean some real rest, like a vacation or somethin'."
I laughed. "A woman once told me that poor people can't afford no vacations. She said that we gotta keep workin' or we end up dead."
"You don't have to stop workin'. I mean more like a change. Maybe you should go on down t'Houston or maybe even Galveston where they don't know you too good."
"Why you say that, Odell?"
We pulled up to my house. My Pontiac was a welcome sight, parked there and waiting for me. I could have driven across the nation with the money Albright had given me.
"First Howard Green gets killed, then Coretta goes the same way. Police do this to you and they say Dupree's still in jail. Time to go."
"I can't go, Odell."
"Why not?"
I looked at my house. My beautiful home.
"I just can't," I said. "But I do think you're right."
"If you don't leave, Easy, then you better look for some help."
"What kind'a help you mean?"
"I don't know. Maybe you should come on down to church on Sunday. Maybe you could talk to Reverend Towne."
"Lord ain't got no succor fo' this mess. I'm'a have to look somewhere else."
I got out of his car and waved him goodbye. But Odell was a good friend; he waited there until I had hobbled to my door and stumbled into the house.
12
I put away a pint and a half of bourbon before I could get to sleep. The sheets were crisp and dry and the fear was far enough away in the alcohol, but whenever I closed my eyes Coretta was there, hunching over me and kissing my chest.
I was still young enough that I couldn't imagine death really happening to someone I knew. Even in the war I expected to see friends again, though I knew they were dead.
The night carried on like that. I'd fall asleep for a few minutes only to wake up calling Coretta's name or to answer her calling me. If I couldn't fall back to sleep I'd reach for the bottle of whiskey next to the bed.
Later that night the phone rang.
"Huh?" I mumbled.
"Easy? Easy, that you?" came a rough voice.
"Yeah. What time is it?"
"'Bout three. You 'sleep, man?"
"What you think? Who is this?"
"Junior. Don't you know me?"
It took me a while to remember who he was. Junior and I had never been friends and I couldn't even think of where he might have found my phone number.
"Easy? Easy! You fallin' back asleep?"
"What you want this time'a mornin', Junior?"
"Ain't nuthin'. Nuthin'."
"Nuthin'? You gonna get me outta my bed at three fo' nuthin'?"
"Don't go soundin' off on me now, man. I just wanted to tell you what you wanted t'know."
"What you want, Junior?"
"'Bout that girl, thas all." He sounded nervous. He was talking fast and I had the feeling that he kept looking over his shoulder. "Why was you lookin' fo' her anyway?"
"You mean the white girl?"
"Yeah. I just remembered that I saw her last week. She come in with Frank Green."
"What's her name?"
"I think he called her Daphne. I think."
"So how come you just tellin' me now? How come you callin' me this late anyway?"
"I'ont get off till two-thirty, Easy. I thought you wanted to know, so I called ya."
"You jus' figgered you'd call me in the middle'a the night an' tell me 'bout some girl? Man, you fulla shit! What the hell do you want?"
Junior let out a couple of curses and hung the phone in my ear.
I got the bottle and poured myself a tall drink. Then I lit up a cigarette and pondered Junior's call. It didn't make any sense, him calling me in the night just to tell me about some girl I wanted to play with. He had to know something. But what could a thick-headed field hand like Junior know about my business? I finished the drink and the cigarette but it still didn't make sense.
The whiskey calmed my nerves, though, and I was able to fall into a half sleep. I dreamed about casting for catfish down south of Houston when I was just a boy. There were giant catfish in the Gatlin River. My mother told me that some of them were so big that the alligators left them alone.
I had caught on to one of those giants and I could just make out its big head below the surface of the water. Its snout was the size of a man's torso.
Then the phone rang.