the crossfire and so I sent them to Primo.
“Daddy.” Feather had tears in her eyes. “Can’t you come with us?”
“Later, honey.”
“Can’t I keep Frenchie, though?”
Being so weak themselves I think that children understand weakness better than adults. I couldn’t say no to her then.
“Okay. Yeah, okay.”
AT THE DOOR Jesus was the last to leave.
“Did you take the money out of my closet, Dad?”
“No.”
“It’s gone.” He looked at me with his solemn eyes.
Jackson Blue.
I TURNED ON THE RADIO and the TV. Both of them droned on and on about the assassination. I didn’t understand a word of it but the sad sounds of grief resonated in my heart. My best friend was wounded somewhere, maybe he was dead. It was my fault and I couldn’t even go to him and tell him that I was sorry.
I don’t know how much later it was when the doorbell rang. I took the pistol from my pocket and went to the moth hole in the drapes next to the window. Then I went to the door and flung it open quickly. I jammed my cocked .38 into Rupert’s nose and said, “You get killed comin’ around here, fool.”
Rupert wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t afraid either.
“I got sixty-seven hundred thirty-five dollars in this here briefcase,” he said.
“You cain’t spend it where you goin’, brother.”
“It’s yours,” Rupert said. “Mr. Stetz sent it.”
I noticed then that Rupert’s face had been battered, broken, and bruised. It was lopsided and swollen.
“Could I come in?” the big wrestler asked.
“No.” I stepped back and held the gun lower.
Rupert handed the briefcase to me but I shook my head and then gestured at the ground.
“Put it down,” I said. And, when he complied, “What’s it for?”
“It’s a’cause’a Mr. Beam.”
“What about him?”
“Mr. Stetz send Mr. Beam with this here money to give you. But then when he tried to kill you—”
“How do you know that?”
“I was in the warehouse. Mr. Beam didn’t know that. I was there for Mr. Stetz.” Rupert rubbed his hand over his ruined face and I knew that the beating he got was for working with Beam.
“You saw what happened?” I asked.
Rupert’s nod was cautious.
“An’ you didn’t do anything?”
“I was there to watch. That’s all. Mr. Stetz didn’t tell me to do nuthin’ else.”
Now I understood why Rupert showed no fear of me and my pistol: he was already filled to the brim with the fear of his boss.
I wanted to kill him. I really did. Behind me Walter Cronkite was almost ready to cry. Mouse was dying somewhere.
“Come on in,” I said to Rupert. “Come on.”
I turned off the TV. I would have poured a stiff drink if there was one in the house.
I waved at a seat with my gun. Rupert sat.
I laid the gun down next to me on the couch with my hand nearby.
“How’d you find my house, man?”
“Mr. Stetz made a call to the police. He axed a man down there t’get it. You know.” Rupert winked and cocked his head to the side.
It was that easy. One call and Stetz could get information that I’d have to sweat blood for. I’d gone way over to the deep end of the pool.
But I didn’t care.
“You know why Sallie and Beam tried to kill me?” I asked, feeling the superiority of my close-at-hand gun.
“Not exactly,” the ex-wrestler said. He looked dumb and ugly but Rupert was not a stupid man. “Mr. Beam called me to come with him but I told him no.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said that he had the man that killed Roman and stole his drug. He said that he wanted me to throw in with ’im but I said that I worked for Mr. Stetz. He said that Mr. Stetz might not be on top forever but I told him that I had made up my mind and that was that.” Rupert’s resolve made him resemble a stone sculpture even more.
