“They sendin’ a ambulance?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Now run get me the first-aid box.”
LaMarque took off, avoiding looking at his father’s still body.
“Etta,” I said.
“Go on from me now, Easy,” she warned.
“Etta, let me take him to the hospital.”
“You done taken him enough now, Easy. Ain’t today bad enough wit’out you killin’ my husband too?”
“What do you mean?”
“Get away from me, Easy Rawlins. Get outta here.”
CHAPTER 41
I LEFT IN MOUSE’S CAR. I had to leave, to hide the weapons.
Along the streets the traffic was light, but there were lots of folks out in front of their houses and stores. People were talking to each other with rapt attention on every corner. I saw more than one woman crying. Children walked listlessly, on the whole, not playing or laughing out loud.
The world was in sorrow, it seemed. Was Mouse’s death so powerful? Did everybody feel it when a brave gangster died?
Maybe it was that I hadn’t looked around me lately. Maybe a deep sadness had entered my community but I had been too busy being a workingman; a company man.
ON THE CORNER OF Pico and Genesee there were three white men and one white woman standing at the bus stop, listening to a transistor radio that one of them held up.
I took the heroin from the glove compartment and went up to my house.
The front door to my house was open.
Inside, Feather was crying in Bonnie’s arms. Jesus stood next to them holding one of Feather’s favorite dolls.
“Easy.” Bonnie had looked up. There was no smile on her face for me.
“Daddy, Daddy,” Feather cried. She limped over to me and I lifted her into my arms.
“Jackson here?” I asked my son.
He shook his head to say no. His voice lost again. Lost again. Everything was lost.
“What’s wrong?” I asked out loud.
“Haven’t you heard?” Bonnie asked me.
I was as mute as my son.
“Kennedy. He’s been shot. He’s dead.”
“What?”
I staggered across the floor with Feather and slumped down on the couch. I buried my head in Feather’s chest too sad even to cry. Bonnie came to hold us and so did my son. My lungs were burning and my throat was sore from choked tears.
I lifted my head and noticed that there was blood on my little daughter’s dress.
“What’s this?” I said. “What’s wrong with you, baby?” My voice was high from the strain.
“It’s from your ear, Daddy,” she said. “Wha’ happened?”
As if on cue Pharaoh yelped down at our feet.
“Frenchie!” Feather cried. “Frenchie.” She pulled away from my arms and hugged the dog on the floor.
I was too sad to be angry at the damn dog. I sat there thinking that he must have jumped into the car while I was helping Mouse. He’d probably hidden under the seat where I had put the gun and knife.
Gun and knife.
“Bonnie?”
“Yes, Easy?”
“Can you drive?”
“Yes.”
I gave her the keys and Primo’s address. I told her about the gun and knife under the seat.
“Take the kids out to his house. He’ll know what to do.”
“What about you, Easy?”
“I’m tired,” I said. I still had unfinished business with Philly Stetz. I didn’t know if he had sent Beam to kill me or not. I didn’t know if he wanted the heroin or if he knew my address. I did know that I didn’t want my children in
