territory, Mr Scratch! He don't own Darktown! Oliver Spiff only has his big toe on our soil and it's because of you and your uncle. That's all.”

“I'm not going to let you do this…”

The butt of Saul's .38 caught the back of Scratch's head. Scratch fell immediately. He hit the floor with a groan. Saul pointed his .38 at Dobro. Dobro held up his hands and backed away. Hoke and Culky led Chester out the room, but before they left, Culky had one more thing to say.

“I keep telling your boy,” he said to Dobro. “He don't have nothin' to do with Darktown. Get his ass out of here!”

Chester screamed, wailed, and bawled all the way to the town square. He mumbled prayers, apologized to his mother, and cursed the devil for making him kill his woman and the man she was cheating with. In reality, Celeste was a prostitute and the murdered man was just a traveling salesman, his first time at a house of ill repute.

Scratch gathered himself and he and Dobro trotted after Culky and his men to stop them. When they got to the town square, Culky already started the proceedings and everyone who had been in the club gathered around folks who woke up and came out of their houses to see the ruckus.

“It don't matter what color you are,” Culky said to all witnesses. “Whether you're a man, a woman… God expects you to act in a certain way in polite society. He don't want us to run around…” He looked at a weeping Chester, who kept falling to his knees and at Saul, who kept picking him up. “…killing each other.”

A rope was tossed around the post office sign. It had been pre-tied into a noose at the end. So it was true. Culky drove around with nooses in his trunk looking for an execution. The noose swung as Hoke tied it around the sign. Saul grabbed Chester by his collar and made him stand, but Chester kept falling to his knees, unable to stop sobbing, apologizing to God and his mother.

Saul reached for him again and Culky shook his head. Saul took a few steps back, and Culky stepped forward.

“Aw hell,” Culky said. “You're a waste of good rope, any damn ways!”

Culky took his .45 from his belt and shot Chester twice on the left side of the temple. Chester fell to the side in a pool of his own blood and brain tissue. There was a gasp from the crowd. A long silence fell on the night. Even the night creatures were silent, horrified by what they'd witnessed.

Several houses down, Scratch saw the young black man who had vacated his car a few hours before. He was standing outside a white shack with moss growing on the roof. He was in a black T-shirt and underwear. An elderly woman came out, looked at what happened, then ushered him inside. Before he closed the door, Dobro got a good look at the man.

“Dobro.” Scratch pointed. “You know him?”

Dobro snickered. “Oh, yeah. Felix Crump. That's the twist that shot at you?”

“Yep,” Scratch answered.

“Hmm. Well,” Dobro started to walk. “Let's talk to him.”

Scratch put a hand on his arm. “No.” Scratch shook his head. “We go over there, he sees us, Dobro, and that punk will turn and run. I need to watch him.”

“Maybe so, yeah,” Dobro said.

“I'm betting that's his grandmother,” Scratch said.

“Unless he's doing old ladies again.”

“Do what?” Scratch was shocked.

“Boy was hustlin' old ladies a year or so ago. Get 'em to feel sorry for his ass, take him in. Live in their house for a week or so, then take off with money, jewelry… Fucker moved on to guys. That shit didn't work too well. He got his ass beat too many times.”

“Damn,” Scratch said in disgust. “You manage him?”

“Hell naw!” Dobro was offended by the question. “I don't manage trash like that. Even my sissies are prime! You know that, Scratch.”

Scratch smiled, put a hand on Dobro's shoulder to let him know he did know that.

“Now I know where his base of operations is,” Scratch said.

“What? Now you pullin' some army shit out,” Dobro laughed. “Come to my place, brother. Tina will fix us some steaks and greens. Get you some much-needed shuteye before your big meeting.”

“Thanks, Dobro, but no thanks. I'm going to watch Felix.”

“Suit yourself,” Dobro said. 'Tina's gonna be sick she ain't seen you.”

Tina was Dobro's common-law wife. They had four kids together. All under 12. Tina liked men as much as Dobro liked women. Both jealous as all get out, both crazy as hell, nearly killing each other more than once. Both still together. Both needed to be a thousand miles away from each other.

'I'll pop in and say hi when all this is over with.”

Dobro knew better. His brother wasn't going to see Tina, not after the blowout last year when Scratch caught her messing with one of the oil rig workers. She messed that poor man's head up. Ruined his marriage. The wife left, took the kids, and the oil rig worker killed himself in front of Scratch. Shotgun to the face.

“OK, brother.” Dobro walked away. “You know where to find me.”

14

Nothing happened the rest of the night. Scratch sat in his Dodge, watching the house Felix lived in. At around six am, a light in the living room came on. A yellow hue glowed behind a thin white curtain. A short skinny shadow appeared. The curtain moved and an enlarged eyeball briefly appeared.

Way out in the distance, Marty Robbins's Singin' the Blues echoed. A few seconds, the music grew louder as a red Plymouth Fury roared down the cul-de-sac and came to a screeching halt at Felix's house. The same red Fury that had been driving around when the Klan was chasing Felix. The curtain moved again. Thirty seconds later, the front door to the shack opened up and Felix ran out, slamming the door behind him. He jumped in the car

Вы читаете Yardbird
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату