“That cousin’a yours is sumpin’ else, man. I mean, I never seen any boy get in as much trouble as him. Damn, he’d be runnin’ numbahs in heaven an’ sellin’ holy water in hell.”
“Whole gotdamned family,” I said. “There you got Nadine cuttin’ down men like wheat and people fallin’ dead all ovah Three Hearts. I don’t know how I lived through a Christmas dinner back in the old days when they’d come by.”
“Yeah,” Fearless said with a nod. “But you ain’t much bettah, Paris.”
“What you mean?” I said. “I ain’t cursed.”
“No?”
“Naw.”
“Paris, I know men who run in the streets every night don’t 89
Walter Mosley
have half the trouble you got. I know people live more peace-able lives in prison.”
“Fuck you, man. All I do is run my bookstore. Ain’t nuthin’
more peaceful than readin’ a book.”
“That’s what that white boy thought when somebody put that bullet in his head.”
This was no simple banter. Fearless wouldn’t have brought up Tiny Bobchek unless he was thinking that my current problems had something to do with him.
“Uh-uh, Fearless. No,” I said. “Tiny was just a, a coincidence.”
“Ulysses comes to your door one minute and then just a few hours later there’s a dead white man on your flo’ and that’s just a coincidence? You know I ain’t that fast when it comes to fig-urin’, Paris, but this one looks clear as a bell.”
“It was Jessa,” I said. “Jessa did it.”
“Li’l white girl killed that Goliath?”
“He was shot,” I said. “Shot in the head. Women carry guns. Look at Three Hearts.”
“You said Jessa didn’t even have a bag or drawers,” Fearless argued. He had a good memory when he wanted to.
“Tiny could have been armed. She could have pulled out his pistol and opened fire.”
Fearless threw up a hand and let it fall. “Yeah,” he admitted.
“It couldn’t have been Useless,” I continued. “He ain’t a natural killer in the first place. He never carries a gun and he would run from a big fool like Bobchek.”
“Yeah, but that just proves my point.”
“What are you talkin’ about?”
“First you got Ulysses comin’ to your door, sayin’ how he got to run,” Fearless said. “Then the white girl and her boyfriend 90
FEAR OF THE DARK
aftah yo’ ass. Now Ulysses is gone an’ Three Hearts comes, gettin’ you into trouble up to your ears. If that ain’t some kinda bad luck, I don’t know what is.”
It was my turn to laugh. Fearless wasn’t making fun of me.
He was reading my life like I’d read a dime novel.
“So what we gonna do about Ulysses?” Fearless asked.
“What can we do?” I replied. “You heard Anthony. Useless is either gone or dead. And with seventy-two thousand dollars in his pocket, he’s way beyond where we gonna find him.”
“The girl could have took the money,” Fearless said.
“Then he’s runnin’ on empty.”
“Come on, Paris. You know we cain’t turn our backs on Hearts. You know you don’t want that evil eye’a hers on yo’ ass.”
I knew it. I knew it.
91
I k n e w i t t o o w e l l .
Fearless dropped me off at my place at about six.
15 There was a cardboard box on the front porch.
The flaps were folded together and there was an envelope taped to its side. I unlocked the door and kicked the box inside.
I sat on the first chair near the entrance and flipped the box open.
Books. Books in which there were many dog-eared pages. I opened the sealed envelope. It was from my literary girlfriend, Ashe Knowles.
