Information had come to light about the sale of munitions directly to Germany from Karnak. If the allegations turned out to be true a full investigation would be launched.
The letter read:
Dear Mr. Rawlins:
Thank you for whatever you did. I read about our reptilian friend in the Bay Area. I just wanted you to see that Axel had an ace up his sleeve. He probably gathered the information in Egypt and Germany and sent it to the government before he told anybody about 3 1 0
C i n n a m o n K i s s
the Swiss bonds. I think he wanted me to have them if anything happened to him. He couldn’t know how slow the government would work.
It was nice meeting you. I have a low-level job at an investment firm here in New York.
I’m sure that I will get promoted soon.
If you’re ever out here come by and see me.
“love”
Cinnamon
There was a dark red lipstick kiss at the bottom of the letter.
I sent her the two books I had taken from her apartment and a brief note thanking her for being so unusual.
f i v e w e e k s l a t e r Bonnie and Feather came home.
Feather had been a little butterball before the illness. She was just a wraith when she got on that plane to Switzerland. But now she was at least four inches taller and dressed like a woman. She was even taller than Jesus.
After kissing me and hugging my neck she regained her com-posure and said, “Bonjour, Papa. Comment ca va?”
“Bien, ma fille,” I replied, remembering the words I learned while killing men across France.
w e a l l s t a y e d u p
late into the night talking. Jesus was even animated. He had learned some French from Bonnie over time and so now he and Feather conversed in a foreign language.
Her recovery and return made him almost giddy with joy.
Finally there was just Bonnie and me sitting next to each other on the couch.
“Easy?”
3 1 1
W a lt e r M o s l e y
“Yeah, honey?”
“Can we talk about it now?”
There was fever in my blood and a tidal wave in my mind but I said, “Talk about what?”
“I only called Joguye because Feather was sick and I knew that he had connections,” she began.
I was thinking about Robert E. Lee and Maya Adamant.
“When I saw him I remembered how we’d felt about each other, and . . . and we did spend a lot of time together in Montreux. I know you must have been hurt but I also spent the time making up my mind —”
I put up my hand to stop her. I must have done it with some emphasis, because she flinched.
“I’m gonna stop you right there, honey,” I said. “I’m gonna stop you, because I don’t wanna hear it.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s not either me or him,” I told the love of my life. “It’s either me or not me. That’s what I’ve come to in this time you were gone. When we talked at the airport you should’a said right then that it was always me, would always be. I don’t care if you slept with him or not, not really. But the truth is he got a foot-print in your heart. That kinda mark don’t wash out.”
“What are you saying, Easy?” She reached out for me. She touched me but I wasn’t there.
“You can take your stuff whenever you want. I love you but I got to let you go.”
j e s u s a n d b e n i t a
moved her the next day. I didn’t know where she went. The kids did. I think they saw her sometimes, but they never talked to me about it.
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W A L T E R M O S L E Y is the author of the acclaimed Easy Rawlins series of mysteries and numerous other works of fiction and nonfiction. He has received a Grammy Award and the Anisfield-Wolf Book Award, among other honors. He was born in Los Angeles and lives in New York.
Document Outline
Also by Walter Mosley
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