She nodded again.
“She was having an affair with your boss, right?”
“Yes.”
“Right here in this room.”
Her assent was a simple movement of her head, like a bird makes when warbling softly.
“What did you think about that?”
“I was happy for him.”
“Happy?”
“Yes. Medgar gives of himself like some kind of saint. He meets fifty people in this room every day. And they’re all askin’ for somethin’. They want money or a soapbox or for him to travel fifty miles to talk to a roomful’a people who don’t even care. They cry on his shoulder. They confess their sins. And he takes it all in, Mr. Rawlins. Twelve hours every day, seven days a week.”
“And Etheline was different?”
“The first day she came here, she brought homemade brownies and a bunch of little white flowers. Medgar had those daisies in a glass of water for two weeks. I finally had to throw them out.”
“Why did she meet the minister?” I asked.
“To apologize. To apologize for her sins. To ask him if she was worthy to be in his congregation.”
“You heard this?”
“Medgar tells me everything.” It was the first hint of pride in Lena’s tone.
“Everything?”
“Yes.”
“He tell you when they became lovers?”
“He didn’t need to, but he did. After the first time I would sneak her in through the side door so that no one else would know.”
“You helped him cheat on his wife?”
“His wife helps herself to everything he has. They been married since before he came to Los Angeles. You know he seems the same, but inside he’s changed. He’s gotten bigger. Mrs. Winters changed on the outside. She wears nice clothes and drives a big car. But on the inside she’s hungry and jealous. She ain’t never so much as brought him a cupcake on his birthday.”
“What happened when Lena broke it off with the reverend?”
“He cried,” she said. “He put his head on my shoulder and cried like a child.”
“Was he angry?”
“He knew that they’d have to stop one day. He knew it was wrong what he did. But you know sometimes a man is weak.”
“Do you know Cedric Boughman?”
“Sure I do. He brought Etheline to Medgar’s attention.”
“Do you think that Cedric might have harmed Etheline?”
“Why would he?”
“Because she left him for your boss.”
“But she left Medgar to go back with Cedric.”
“What?”
“Didn’t the minister tell you?” She was really surprised. “Etheline left him a note Sunday after services. She said that she was going away with Cedric, back up to the Bay Area where she was from.”
“Then why did Winters keep paying Cedric?”
“He did that before Etheline left him, and he would have done it for any of his inner circle. He’s a good man.”
“Are you in love with Reverend Winters?” I asked.
She could have been a wild night creature frozen in my headlights.
“Are you?” I insisted.
“What does a question like that have to do with anything?”
“I don’t know. If you were in love with him, you might wanna protect him, you might be mad that he was with another woman. I mean if he needed love, why not come to you?”
“I’m a married woman, Mr. Rawlins.”
“He’s a married man. Maybe that’s why your husband gets so mad when a man calls you. Mad ’cause he feel another man nearby.”
“I would never cheat on my husband,” Lena said. “The minister is the whole world to me, but I’d never cross that line.”
“And what about him? How did you feel about him crossin’ over into sin?”
“Men are weak, Mr. Rawlins. They’re strong of arm but frail in their hearts. They need forgiveness more than women do.”
“How about Etheline?” I asked. “She’s a woman. Did you forgive her?”
“Etheline was just a child. People had been usin’ her all her life. She didn’t know any better. Is there anything else?”
I shook my head.
Lena got up from her chair gracefully but she stumbled at the door.
WHEN I WAS HALFWAY through the pews, Bumpy and Fatso picked up my trail. They followed me across the wide church and into the side parking lot. The lot was full when I got there, so my car was parked in the alley.
They followed me back there.
I wasn’t worried. When I got to my car, I bent down to tie my shoe. I also got the .25-caliber pistol out of the elastic band of my sock. The deacons were twenty feet away from me. I could see that the hollow-chested one had found himself a lead pipe.
I palmed the pistol, stood up, and smiled. That smirk stopped them dead in their tracks. If they had been hyenas or wild dogs, they would have had their noses in the air, sniffing for danger. Something was different. The prey had gained confidence. The rules of the game had suddenly changed.
I unlocked my car door and opened it, but I didn’t climb in. I just stood there, daring the deacons to approach. They watched me, waiting for a sign. When I finally got in, Bumpy took a tentative step forward. I pointed my pistol at him, and he took two steps and one skip back.
After that they let me drive off unmolested.
IT WAS ABOUT FIVE when I got back home. The phone was ringing when I got to the front door, but whoever it was, they’d hung up before I got to the receiver. Feather and Jesus were in the backyard. I sat in my reading chair thinking about the last week.
Whorehouses and sinful ministers were nothing new to me. Even murder was an old friend, like Mouse. But for years I had been getting up and going to work, putting my paycheck into the bank. Paying my bills by check instead of cash. I was a member of the PTA. I had slept in my own bed every single night from Christmas to Christmas.
I followed the same routes every day, but all of a sudden I seemed to be lost. It was like I was a young man again, every morning leading me to someplace I never would have suspected. I wasn’t enjoying myself, though. I didn’t want to lose my way. But I had to find out about Mouse. I had to be sure whether he was dead or alive.
* * *
FEATHER AND JESUS came inside around six.
“Mail, Daddy,” Feather said when she saw me.
Jesus went to the console TV and grabbed a brown envelope that I’d failed to notice.
“What’s that?” I asked my son.
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “It was on the front step when we got home.”
He dumped the paper envelope on my lap and then went into the kitchen to make ready for dinner.
When I ripped the seam open, a sweet scent escaped. It was a black photo album. The cover was worn and stained, but the pages were all intact. I turned the pages, looking at all the Kodak snapshots neatly held by little paper divots built into the black leaves. Six pictures on each side of each page. Pictures of men, some of women. One woman appeared again and again. Etheline had been beautiful when she was alive.
“Who’s that, Daddy?” Feather leaned against my forearm and pointed, pressing her finger against Etheline’s dress.
“A pretty lady.”
“Uh-huh. She a friend’a yours?”
“L’il bit.”
“Is she gonna go to Knott’s Berry Farm with us?”
“No. She wanted me to look at this picture book and see if there was a picture of Uncle Raymond in it. You remember what Uncle Raymond looked like?”
“He looked funny,” she said, snickering.
She climbed onto my lap and the little yellow dog growled, peeking out from behind the drapes. There were over fifty pages of photographs in the bulging album. Feather made up stories about who the men were and what their relationship was to Etheline.
There were two pictures of Inez with men. She was lovely in those pictures. The thought crossed my mind that I could be with her for just thirty dollars.
“That one look like Uncle Raymond,” Feather said.
It did. A smallish man, not much taller than Etheline, with light eyes and good hair. If you had described Mouse to a police sketch artist, he might have drawn this man’s picture—but it wasn’t Raymond. His face was too round, his jaw too sharp. He was smiling, but it wasn’t the contagious kind of smile that Mouse had. It was just some mortal man, not the angel of death, my best friend, Raymond Alexander.