“If Timmerman calls you again you should call us,” Rawlway was saying.
“You mean you didn’t catch him yet?” I said, putting a little fear in my voice. “I mean, what if he figures to come back here?”
“Don’t worry,” Morrain said. “We got his house covered. We’ll get him.”
“How can we get in touch with Fearless?” Rawlway wanted to know.
I gave them Ambrosia’s phone number and address. Fearless would call her and make sure she wasn’t helpful. Sooner or later he’d have to talk to the cops, but not before we finished our business.
AT NINE EXACTLY I called Bradford Craighton. He answered even before I heard the ring.
“Mr. Minton?”
“Hello, Bradford. I got what you wanted. I got even more than that.”
“Where?”
“Right here at Timmerman’s house. Fearless found the book and left it. He said that he didn’t see any reason to go runnin’ around with Timmerman in the hospital and the police lookin’ into three murders. You just bring my money here. Bring it and we’ll turn over the book to you.”
I never expected to see that money or anything else that was promised to me, but I had to act like I did. I gave him the Ogden address and he hung up the phone without even a good-bye.
44
THINGS FELL INTO PLACE QUICKLY after that. Bradford Craighton was arrested at Timmerman’s house on charges of attempted breaking and entering. Maestro Wexler had him out of jail before noon. The private secretary immediately fled the state, which set off a nationwide search. Over the next days there were a series of articles about the conspiracy between Minna Wexler, her brother, and Bradford Craighton to extort money from an unnamed millionaire. It was also believed that, with the help of an as yet unnamed accomplice, Bradford ordered the deaths of the brother and sister.
Three days later it all came to naught. Bradford Craighton hung himself in a three-dollar-a-night room in Toledo, Ohio.
A long way from the Left Bank.
Maybe a week after that a couple camping in the Santa Monica mountain range found the desiccated body of a tall white man. The corpse had no hands and had also been beheaded. Nearby there had been a fire that contained the remains of human bone.
I PUT IT ALL OUT OF MY MIND: the one unbroken thread of African history as it bled into the world of slavery; the possibility of being a rich man with a house near the shore; the first, and hopefully the last, killing my hands would ever commit. I forgot about everything and went back to my spotty life of book sales and reading.
Rose Fine moved in with Fearless’s mother. Son, Brown, and Leora decided to stay in L.A. to be near her. The cops picked up Fearless but he played ignorant and they soon let him go. The information I found in Timmerman’s files never made it to the news. Neither did the money he had in that rusty box.
A few weeks later I was lamenting not taking at least a few dollars for the trouble Timmerman had caused me. The dread of his evil files and photographs had worn off but the mailman was still delivering the bills. I was having those thoughts when my telephone rang.
“Mr. Minton?”
“Oscar?”
“My sister would appreciate it if you could come to the house this afternoon. Shall we say four- thirty?”
***
THE HOUSE WAS GOING THROUGH a major renovation. The lawn had been cleared of the junk that had been rusting there. The facade was being painted. Hard-muscled men of every race were straining and struggling to make the Fine house into the mansion it could be.
I felt guilty as I approached the front door. I’d lost the greatest fortune this family owned, maybe the greatest treasure for American Negroes. Maybe, I thought, Winifred now knew about the loss and she wanted to hire me to search down the book. I had decided that I wouldn’t take her money. It would just be the wrong thing to do.
SHE WAS SITTING AT HER DESK with the curtains open on the Eden behind her. She wore a pink dress that was cut low enough to show the pendant against her chest. It was a large emerald surrounded by white stones that looked like diamonds but which were really white sapphires.
“You got it back,” I said.
“As if you didn’t know,” she replied. “Have a seat, Mr. Minton.”
“What do you mean?”
“Do I have to explain the word seat?”
“I mean about the pendant.”
“It’s okay, Mr. Minton. Your friend Fearless brought it back to me of his own free will.”
“Oh,” I said as I lowered into the soft chair. “I see.”
“He also returned my family book. When I spoke to you I didn’t even know that it was missing. With Son being taken from me and the pendant too I was distracted.”
“I imagine so,” I said pleasantly. But inside I was boiling. Fearless had done it to me again. He knew that I planned either to keep the book or to sell it, and he made the decision that either act would have been wrong. He stole the book from me and gave it back to Winifred. I silently swore never to help him again.
“He told me,” she was saying, “that you found the book and turned it over to him so that he could protect it
