“She works for our master, as we all do, brother.”
There was a minor strain of fanaticism in the minister’s tone. But I didn’t care. I once heard that extreme times call for extreme measures. Living in Watts was extreme three hundred and sixty-five days a year.
“Twenty-three adults live here among us, Brother Rawlins,” Lister said. “The women serve and raise children while the men work to pay for our bread.”
“I don’t hear any kids.”
“The school is in the basement.” He smiled and then added, “I thought that you had come to join us.”
“Join you what?”
“We’ve had six converts since the riots,” he said. “People looking for hope in a world gone crazy.”
“Might not be a bad idea,” I speculated. “What do you have to do to join up?”
“Not much. Give yourself over to our master. Dedicate your life and worldly possessions to our family.”
“That’s all?”
Reverend Lister smiled.
“Do you know him, Harley?” he said, looking at me but talking to someone else.
“No suh.”
The voice came from a door behind the red minister. A tall brown man with long arms and bulging eyes came out. He wore a gray Nehru jacket and blue jeans. There was a raised mole in the center of his forehead.
As Piedmont approached us the minister rose.
“I will leave you men to your business,” he said. “And, Brother Rawlins . . .”
“Yes sir?”
“Your life is the only thing you truly have to give.”
He turned and walked away. I watched him, thinking, rather resentfully, that what he had said might prove to be the most important lesson of my life.
“Do I know you, brother?” Piedmont asked as he lowered himself onto the couch.
“Nola Payne,” I said. “And Peter Rhone.”
Even as I spoke he rose up.
“Let’s take it outside,” he said.
Piedmont had long legs too. I had to jump up and scurry to make it with him to the door. He went through and I followed but after I crossed the threshold I turned to look once more at the consecrated living room. Vica had come back and was removing the lemonade glass I’d put on the floor in my haste to leave. She had gotten down on one knee, a voluptuous purple sail with a yellow flag dipping into a crimson sea. My breath caught as Piedmont pulled the orange door shut.
I believed at that moment that I would one day be compelled to give up my life and that when the time came I would go gladly.
I shivered at the thought and turned away.
24
On the sidewalk and two houses down Harley Piedmont stopped walking and confronted me.
“What the fuck you want, niggah?”
I remembered that the googly-eyed Piedmont had been a boxer. Boxers as a rule are peaceful men outside the ring but when they feel cornered they can be very dangerous.
“No problem, Brother Piedmont,” I said mildly, keeping my hands at my sides. “I just been hired by a woman named Geneva Landry to find out what happened to her niece—Nola.”
Piedmont’s eyes grew even larger and a bead of sweat ran a jagged line from his forehead down between his eyes, forming into a large drop at the tip of his nose. The droplet hung there precariously like a long ash at the end of a burning cigarette.
Watching him sweat reminded me that it was a hot day. Maybe he was simply overheated. Or maybe he’d come back to Nola’s place and raped and murdered her.
“What happened to Nola?” he asked.
“That’s what I asked Mr. Rhone,” I said. “He told me that she called you to take him home over in Palms. So I wondered if you had talked to the young lady again after letting him off.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Maybe to tell her that he got home all right,” I suggested. “Maybe because you all are friends. All I know is that Geneva is beside herself and the police don’t wanna hear from her.”
“Police? What do the god-danged police got to do with this?”
“Are you listenin’?” I asked. “Nola’s missin’. That’s a police matter.”
“Man, who knows where she’s gone or why? Maybe she’s with her boyfriend. Maybe, maybe . . .” But there were no other explanations he could imagine.
