“I guess he would be,” I said. “Responsible, I mean.”
“He didn’t go to Lance,” Bradford said. “The children were angry because their father had reduced them to a very low allowance. He wanted them to work hard to understand money. But all they wanted was to get rich quick. Mr. Wexler should cut his losses and move on. He has seven other children, all of whom are fine and upstanding.”
We had worked our way down to Olympic by that part of our conversation. Bradford pulled up in front of the Faison house.
“So you think it would be better for all involved if I just dropped out?” I asked the Australian.
“You’ve seen his eyes,” Bradford said.
“Yeah. I’ve also seen ten thousand acres of rice stooped over by just as many poor black Louisiana sharecroppers. You know ten thousand dollars sure enough might make that pain heal.”
“Death is the only real cure to pain, Mr. Minton.”
It might not have been a good argument but it was the truth still and all.
“I’m afraid,” the male secretary continued, “that if you open a door for Mr. Wexler’s revenge he will go so far that even his wealth will not protect him.”
“I’ll tell you what, Brad,” I said. “You got a private line in that big house?”
“Yes,” he said and gave me a card with only a number on it. “You can call me at that number any evening after nine.”
“If I have any questions I’ll call you first. How’s that?”
“Better than nothing.”
28
FEARLESS WAS EATING A CHILI BURGER at an outside counter by the time I made it to Rob’s. The whole place was crowded with late-night customers. There were cops and cabbies, prostitutes and short-straw runners from a dozen companies that drew lots on the graveyard shift to see who had to take the drive for their burgers.
Fearless was talking to two young women who were looking him up and down, hoping that Rob would put something like that on the menu. It broke their hearts when I came up and Fearless shooed them off.
“You late, Paris,” Fearless said. “I was gettin’ worried.”
“You should’a been. I got hit upside the head, hog-tied, kidnapped, threatened with a gun the size of a cannon, and questioned. I was in fear for my life.”
“Well,” my friend said dismissively. “I guess it didn’t turn out too bad.”
“I know it don’t seem like it,” I said. “Especially when it all ended up with me gettin’ paid another thousand dollars and promised yet another nine.”
“Damn, Paris. People just throwin’ money at you.”
“I don’t like it, Fearless.”
“Me neither, man. But we okay now. Ain’t nobody after either one of us.”
“What about Timmerman?”
“He probably dead by now. You know that brick hit him hard. Yeah. If he ain’t dead he’s outta play, that’s for sure.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Maybe. But I’d like to know where all these players are before I can sleep comfortably in my bed. Did you find Maynard?”
“Yeah. I know where he’s at. We could pick him off when he’s goin’ out to work. ’Bout eight o’clock.”
“What we gonna do till then?”
Fearless nodded at an open-air counter across the parking lot from us. The two girls he had been talking to were standing there staring in our direction.
“Lisa and Joanelle,” Fearless said. “I told ’em about your medical condition.”
“What condition?”
“I told ’em I didn’t know the right doctor’s words for it, but down around where we were from they called it big-bone-itis.” He slapped my shoulder and laughed. “They said we could go over to their place. It’s just a few blocks from here.”
I glanced across the lot again. One of them was pear-shaped and the other skinny and short. But they were young and laughing. And I’d almost been killed two or three times already.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go.”
THE EVENING WENT DIFFERENTLY than I had supposed it would.
When we got to the girls’ apartment Fearless produced a pint bottle of blackberry brandy that he’d picked up somewhere. Joanelle, the pear-shaped, walnut-colored young woman, brought out a lump of ice with an ice pick. I chipped at the ice while Little Lisa, a name she answered to, cleared off a space on a traveling trunk that they used for a coffee table. They had paper cups for the brandy and potato chips for salt.
I was wondering how we were going to split up when Fearless said, “Paris, did I ever tell you about the time I crossed over into Germany with three white boys before our army invaded?”
“No,” I said, wondering why he was addressing me as if we were alone.
“It was late in the evening and the CO told us that he didn’t want to see us again until we had blowed up somebody’s bomber planes. I was search and destroy,” he added for the girls’ benefit. “Usually I went out by myself, but because they wanted us to put a dent in an air base they had near the border, they sent two demolition men wit’ us.”
“Who was the third man?” Joanelle asked.
I could see by her face that Fearless had her complete attention with his tale of derring-do.
“He was the radioman,” Fearless said. “If we came across something that we couldn’t attack properly, he was to call in for our bombers to take over. . . .”
The story went on for a long time. One of the demolition men had called Fearless a nigger before they went out. He told Fearless to stay away from him. But along the way the other two men were killed when they stumbled across a land mine. There were a few close calls and the surviving demolitionist was wounded in the leg. They found the secret air base, though, and Fearless was able to set the charges with the racist’s help. He also dragged the wounded man all the way back to Allied territory.
“Why didn’t you just let him die?” Little Lisa asked. She had her head on my lap but she kept awake for Fearless’s story.
“I saved him because of the uniform,” Fearless said. “He was my fellow American, and because’a that I had to save his butt.”
“Did he change his opinion?” I asked, as rapt in the tale as those young women.
“I have no idea,” Fearless said. “I dropped him off at the infirmary and never saw him again. You know he shouldn’ta said nothin’ bad about me in the first place. What you want? I got to save every redneck’s life in order for them to think I’m a man?”
Joanelle and Lisa had a thousand questions for Fearless. They’d never known a Negro who had autonomy in the war. Lisa pressed her head against my stomach and squeezed my hand. Joanelle had her head on Fearless’s shoulder.
When I woke up at dawn we were all pretty much in the same positions. The chipped ice was nearly melted and the blackberry liquor was gone.
For a moment I regretted the missed opportunity but then I remembered how friendly the night had been. I could have slept with Charlotta for a year and never had the warmth or closeness I had with those girls. I sat there for over an hour with Lisa’s hand between my thighs. I didn’t move to wake them until seven-fifteen.
The good-bye kisses and hugs were warm, and they made us promise to come back when we were through with our business so that we could have another good time.
I FOLLOWED FEARLESS back to Ambrosia’s house. We left my car in her garage and kept hers. I didn’t want to be too far away from our money or my book. Then we drove over to a big apartment house on Alameda near Vernon. After a few minutes a tall man came out of a green door on the side.
Fearless stepped out and called, “Hey, Maynard!”
You could tell by the way the man looked at us he was considering escape. Fearless had a small limp that might have given Latrell the edge. Still, he would have to stay away from his own door if he ran.