people knew that Jackson Blue had invented that device to compete with the downtown mob’s control of the numbers business. The under-world still had a bounty on his head.
The row of buildings across the street were all boarded up —
every one of them. The riots had shut down SouthCentral L.A.
like a coffin. White businesses had fled and black-owned stores flickered in and out of existence on a weekly basis. All we had left were liquor stores for solace and check-cashing storefronts in place of banks. The few stores that had survived were gated with steel bars that protected armed clerks.
At least here the view matched my inner desolation. The economy of Watts was like Feather’s blood infection. Both futures seemed devoid of hope.
I couldn’t seem to pull myself from the window. That’s because I knew that the next thing I had to do was call Raymond and tell him that I was ready to take a drive down south.
The knock on the door startled me. I suppose that in my grief I felt alone and invisible. But when I looked at the frosted glass I knew who belonged to that silhouette. The big shapeless nose and the slight frame were a dead giveaway.
2 8
C i n n a m o n K i s s
“Come on in, Saul,” I called.
He hesitated. Saul Lynx was a cautious man. But that made sense. He was a Jewish private detective married to a black woman. They had three brown children and the enmity of at least one out of every two people they met.
But we were friends and so he opened the door.
Saul’s greatest professional asset was his face — it was almost totally nondescript even with his large nose. He squinted a lot but if he ever opened his eyes wide in surprise or appreciation you got a shot of emerald that can only be described as beautiful.
But Saul was rarely surprised.
“Hey, Easy,” he said, giving a quick grin and looking around for anything out of place.
“Saul.”
“How’s Feather?”
“Pretty bad. But there’s this clinic in Switzerland that’s had very good results with cases like hers.”
Saul made his way to my client’s chair. I went behind the desk, realizing as I sat that I could feel my heart beating.
Saul scratched the side of his mouth and moved his shoulder like a stretching cat.
“What is it, Saul?”
“You said that you needed work, right?”
“Yeah. I need it if it pays.”
Saul was wearing a dark brown jacket and light brown pants.
Brown was his color. He reached into the breast pocket and came out with a tan envelope. This he dropped on the desk.
“Fifteen hundred dollars.”
“For what?” I asked, not reaching for the money.
“I put out the word after you called me. Talked to anybody who might need somebody like you on a job.”
2 9
W a lt e r M o s l e y
“At first no one had anything worth your while but then I heard from this cat up in Frisco. He’s a strange guy but . . .” Saul hunched his shoulders to finish the sentence. “This fifteen hundred is a down payment on a possible ten grand.”
“I’ll take it.”
“I don’t even know what the job is, Easy.”
“And I don’t need to know,” I said. “Ten thousand dollars will put me in shootin’ range of what I need. I might even be able to borrow the rest if it comes down to it.”
“Might.”
“That’s all I got, Saul — might.”
Saul winced and nodded. He was a good guy.
“His name is Lee,” he said. “Robert E. Lee.”
“Like the Civil War general?”
Saul nodded. “His parents were Virginia patriots.”
“That’s okay. I’d meet with the grand wizard of the Ku Klux Klan if this is how he says hello.” I picked up the envelope and fanned my face with it.
“I’ll be on the job too, Easy. He wants to do it with you answering to me. It’s no problem. I won’t get in your
