“Naw. It’s more than that.”
“Maybe. But maybe it don’t mattah. I mean, unless he killed Ulysses, why we wanna bother with him?”
It was true.
“You wanna go roust this Hector dude?” Fearless offered.
It was maybe midnight.
“I got my gun.”
“Naw, man. We don’t know who’s up in the house with him, an’ there’s no reason to get on his bad side right off. Anyway, I’m tired. Ain’t got much sleep in the last few days.”
Everything I was saying was true, but I had an ulterior motive.
Fearless could see the deception on my face, but he didn’t challenge me.
“Okay, man,” he said. “You know where I be in the mornin’.
Call me when you need me.”
134
FEAR OF THE DARK
He jumped into Milo’s red Caddy and drove off in a great swoosh.
I stood in that empty dirt-floored lot wondering how I got there. I looked down the street at Good News. The lights were still on, but the restaurant was closing down.
There was no visible light from upstairs, but I knew that the men up there would be playing until six or seven. Somewhere Useless was either breathing or not breathing and Three Hearts was awake in her bed, fretting about her wayward son.
And there I was: one kind of man in another kind of world.
I d r o v e a r o u n d f o r a w h i l e because I didn’t know the neighborhood very well and because the street I was looking for was only one block long. It took me five minutes just to find it on the gas station map.
When I finally got there I realized that the street was little more than an alley — I couldn’t park on it without blocking the road. So I put my auto on the cross street and walked down one side of the alley and back up the other. By then it was almost one thirty in the morning. My heart was pumping with anticipation and trepidation. The streets were empty, which made them perfect for a crime. I was alone, which made me the perfect crime victim.
I saw no doorway that had what I wanted. I should have gone home, but I walked up and down the alley/lane again.
Finally, in frustration I looked up and saw a crimson glow from a third-floor apartment.
It was a lantern.
135
Walter Mosley
I climbed the stairs. Reaching the red light, I came upon a green door.
I knocked and the door came open almost immediately.
Mum had been lovely in her waitress getup but she was a knockout in her orange silk gown.
“I wondered if you were going to come,” she said.
“Not me,” I replied. “I been thinkin’ about this for a long time.”
Mum had nothing on under the thin material. I wanted to take her in my arms right then, but I could tell by the way she held herself that she needed a different approach.
She ushered me into a large room that was sumptuous; there was really no other word for it. The light was low but unlike Jerry Twist’s — you could still see. On one side there was a large bed covered by a canopy with gossamer violet-colored silk hanging down on three sides. Next to the bed stood an eight-foot mirror in a cherrywood frame. A red has-sock sat before the mirror; to its side was a small table covered with makeup containers, cream pots, brushes, and perfumes. I could imagine Mum sitting before her mirror, preparing herself for our rendezvous.
The other side of the room had a low couch and table. The couch was golden with red pillows and the table was blond, set for drinks.
Mum shut the door and came up close to me. She reached into my breast pocket and retrieved my cigarettes and matches.
She put a cigarette between my lips and lit it. Then she guided me to the sofa and pressed until I sat.
While she poured me a drink in a deep bowl of a glass, she said, “I’ve been waiting for a man to make me laugh.”
She passed me the glass. Cognac. Good cognac.
136
FEAR OF THE DARK
“You just moved in here?” I asked.
“I know how I like things,” she said.
“I can see that.”
“I want to give you pleasure, Paris,” she said.
