"Yeah. Frank Green."
"Okay, Easy. Lemme tell ya how it is. Albright come here lookin' for that girl. He showed me the picture and right away I knew who it was …"
"How'd you know that?" I asked.
"Sometimes Frank bring her along when he deliverin' liquor. I figured she was his girl or sumpin'."
"But you didn't say nuthin' to Albright?"
"Naw. Frank's my supply, I ain't gonna get in bad with him. I just waited until he come back with her and I let her know, on the sly, that I got some information that she want to know. She called me and I give it to her."
"Why? Why you want to help her?"
Joppy flashed a smile at me that was as close to shy as he was likely to get. "She's a pretty girl, Easy. Very pretty. I wouldn't mind her bein' my friend."
"Why not just tell Frank?"
"And have him come in here swingin' that knife? Shit. Frank is crazy."
Joppy relaxed a little when he saw that I was listening. He picked up his rag again. "Yeah, Ease, I thought I could get you some money and send Albright on a wrong trail. It would'a all been fine if you had listened t'me and laid off lookin'."
"Why you had her call me?"
Joppy clamped his jaw so that the bones stood out under his ears. "She called me and wanted me to help her go somewhere, to some friend she said. But I didn't want none of it. You know I could help as long as all I had to do was from behind the bar, but I wasn't goin' nowhere."
"But why me?"
"I told her t'call ya. She wanna know what DeWitt want, and you the one workin' fo' him." Joppy hunched his shoulders. "I give her your number. I couldn't see where it hurt."
"So you just playin' me for the fool and then, when you finished, you gimme t'her."
"Nobody made you take that man's money. Nobody made you see that girl."
He was right about that. He talked me into it, but I was hungry for that money too.
"Her friend was dead," I said.
"White guy?"
"Uh-huh. And Coretta James is dead, and whoever killed her also got to Howard Green."
"That's what I heard." Joppy threw the rag under the counter and brought out a short glass. While pouring my whiskey he said, "I din't mean fo' all this, Easy. Just tryin' t'help you and that girl."
"That girl is the devil, man," I said. "She got evil in every pocket."
"Maybe you should get out of it, Ease. Take a trip back east or down south or sumpin'."
"That's what Odell told me. But I ain't gonna run, man."
I knew what I had to do. I had to find Frank and tell him about the money that Carter offered. Frank was a businessman at heart. And if DeWitt Albright stood in the way of Frank's business I'd just stand to the side and let them fight it out.
Joppy filled my glass again. It was a kind of peace offering. He really hadn't tried to hurt me. It was just the lie that stuck in my craw.
"Whyn't you tell me 'bout the girl?" I asked him.
"I don't know, Easy. She wanted me t'keep it quiet like and"— Joppy's face softened—"I wanted to keep her … secret. To myself, ya know?"
I took my drink and offered Joppy a cigarette. We smoked our peace and sat in friendship. We didn't speak again for a long time.
Later on Joppy asked, "Who you think been killin' all them folks?"
"I don't know, man. Odell told me that the cops think it might be a maniac. And maybe it was with Coretta and Howard but I know who killed that Richard McGee."
"Who?"
"I can't see where it helps either of us for me to tell you. Best t'keep that to myself."
I was thinking these things as I walked through the gate and up the path to my house. It wasn't until I was almost to the door that I realized that the gate wasn't double-latched, the way the postman usually left it.
Before I turned back to look an explosion went off in my head. I started a long fall through the twilight toward the cement stair of my front porch. But for some reason I didn't hit the stair. The door flung open and I found myself face down on the couch. I wanted to get up but the loud noise in my head made me dizzy.
Then he turned me over.
He was wearing a dark blue suit, so dark that you might have mistaken it for black. He wore a black shirt. His black shoe was on the cushion next to my head. There was a short-rimmed black Stetson on his head. His face was as black as the rest of him. The only color to Frank Green was his banana-colored tie, loosely knotted at his throat.
"Hi, Frank." The words shot pain through my head.
Frank's right fist made a snickering sound and a four-inch blade appeared, like a chrome-colored flame.
"Hear you been lookin' fo' me, Easy."
I tried to sit up but he shoved my face back down onto the couch. "Hear you been lookin' fo' me," he said again.
"That's right, Frank. I need to talk to you. I gotta deal for you, make us both five hundred dollars."
Frank's black face cracked into a white grin. He put his knee against my chest and pressed the tip of his knife, just barely, into my throat. I could feel the flesh prick and the blood trickle.
"I'm'a have t'kill you, Easy."
My first reaction was to look around to see if there was something that might save me but there was nothing except walls and furniture. Then I noticed something strange. The straight-back wood chair that I kept in the kitchen was pulled up to my sofa chair as if someone had used it for a footrest. I don't know why I concentrated on that; for all I knew Frank had pulled it out while I was still out of it.
"Hear me out," I said.
"What?"
"I might could make it seven-fifty."
"How a mechanic gonna get that kinda money?"
"Man wanna talk to a girl you know. Rich man. He pay that much just to talk."
"What girl?" Frank's voice was almost a growl.
"White girl. Daphne Monet."
"You a dead man, Easy," Frank said.
"Frank, listen to me. You got me wrong, man."
"You been nosin' all 'round after me. I been hearin' it. You even goin' where I'm doin' business and where I be drinkin'. I come back from my little business trip and now Daphne's gone and you in every hole I shit in." His hard yellow eyes were staring right into mine. "The cops lookin' fo' me too, Easy. Somebody kilt Coretta and I hear you was around 'fore she died."
"Frank …"
He pressed the blade a little harder. "You dead, Easy," he said and then he shifted the weight of his shoulder.
The voice said, "Don't cry or beg, Easy. Don't give this nigger the satisfaction."
"Evenin', Frank," somebody said in a friendly tone. It wasn't me. I could tell that it was real because Frank froze. He was still staring at me but his attention was at his back.
"Who's that?" he croaked.
"Been a long time, Frank. Must be ten years."
"That you, Mouse?"
"You got a good mem'ry, Frank. I always like a man got a good memory, cause nine times outta eleven he's a smart man could 'preciate a tough problem. 'Cause you know I got a problem here, Frank."
"What's that?"
Right then the phone rang, and I'll be damned if Mouse didn't answer it!
"Yeah?" he said. "Yeah, yeah, Easy's here but he kinda busy right now. Uh-huh, yeah, sure. Could he call you right back? No? Okay. Yeah. Yeah, try back in 'bout a hour, he be free by then."
I heard him put the phone back on the hook. I couldn't see past Frank Green's chest.
"Where was I… oh yeah, I was gonna tell ya my problem. You see, Frank, I got this here long-barreled forty-one-caliber pistol pointed at the back'a yo' head. But I cain't shoot it 'cause I'm afraid that if you fall you gonna cut my partner's throat. Thas some problem, huh?"
Frank just stared at me.
"So what you think I should do, Frank? I know you just itchin' t'cut on poor Easy but I don't think you gonna live t'smile 'bout it, brother."
"Ain't none'a yo' business, Mouse."
"I tell you what, Frank. You put down that knife right there on the couch an' I let you live. You don't an' you dead. I ain't gonna count or no bullshit like that now. Just one minute and I'm'a shoot."
Frank slowly took the knife from my throat and placed it on the couch, where it could be seen from behind.