Dumb luck, that's what they called it in stir. Dumb luck.
Cap Richmond used to say,
?Lemme see 'bout that,? Socrates said. ?You know I might have to go outta town a little while. But if I don't I'll be by.?
He stayed at Iula's house that night. They got there at about midnight. Four bright red numbers burned
03:39
when Iula finally said, ?Baby, I cain't take no mo' right now. Not right now.?
Socrates rolled back on his side and reached for her in the darkness. She took his hand in hers.
?I'm sore all over, honey,? she said. ?But that's not complainin'. I just ain't that young anymore.? She chuckled for a moment and then added, ?Maybe I wasn't ever that young. You was goin' at it like you just got outta jail yesterday.?
Socrates woke up at five. He sat around the big living room thumbing through old
magazines and waiting for the sun. Every now and then he'd wonder if the police had been to his house, if they issued a warrant once they found him missing.
?Mornin',? Iula said, breaking Socrates' trance.
?Hey, baby.?
?What you thinkin' 'bout??
?That it ain't true that a white man think we all look alike. That if there was a white man out there lookin' for me he'd know just who to look for.?
?Why a white man be lookin' for you?? Iula's question was pointed but Socrates didn't care. Iula was a sharp woman.
?Any reason. I owe him money, kissed his daughter, forgot to take off my hat.?
?Where you been wearin' that hat??
?You ever?? Socrates said as the beginning of a question. But the question never came.
?I ever what??
?You ever think that you the only one out here who cares? I mean that if the right thing gonna get done it's you got to do it 'cause nobody else even know??
Iula frowned. She looked at the man who had worn her ragged with love. She shook her head and then turned to leave the room. A while later Socrates smelled coffee brewing. When Iula returned with her tarnished, silver-plated tray she was still frowning.
Socrates raised his head as she handed him a white diner mug.
?You a good man, Socrates Fortlow,? Iula declared. ?Now drink your coffee and come on back down to earth.?
Killer was whimpering when Socrates got home. The ex-con thought his pet was hungry but the dog refused to eat and cried even louder.
That night Socrates let Killer's cries into his dreams. They were a perfect fit for his thoughts. Ronald Logan died over and over again against the screen of pain. And every time the boy fell Socrates sank lower. There were policemen eating ice cream cones, arresting old ladies and driving fast for fun. There were blind men walking past the murder scene ignorant of the criminal and the crime. Behind it all there was a trumpet playing. It was a jazz man playing but he was an angel too.
his skinny aunt Bellandra whispered.
In the morning Socrates realized that the police were not going to come, that he had gotten away with murder,
