The crazy kill

18

Mamie Pullen was having breakfast when the telephone rang. She had a plate full of fried fish and boiled rice, and was dipping hot biscuits into a mixture of melted butter and blackstrap sorghum molasses.

Baby Sis had finished her breakfast an hour before, and was filling Mamie's cup from a pot of leftover coffee that had been boiling on the stove.

"Go answer it," Mamie said sharply. "Just don't stand there like a lump on a log."

"I just don't seem to be able to get myself together this mawning," Baby Sis said as she shuffled from the kitchen, through the sitting room, into the bedroom at the front.

When she returned Mamie was sipping jet-black coffee hot enough to scald a fowl.

"It's Johnny," she said.

Mamie was holding her breath as she got up from the table.

She was dressed in a faded red-flannel kimono and a pair of Big Joe's old working shoes. On her head she wore a black cotton stocking, knotted in the middle and hanging down her back.

"What you doing up so soon?" she asked into the phone. "Or has you gone to bed yet?"

"I'm in Chicago," Johnny said. "I flew here this morning."

Mamie's thin old body began trembling violently beneath the slack folds of the rusty old kimono, and the telephone shook in her hands as though she had the palsy.

"Trust her, son," she pleaded in a whining voice. "Trust her. She loves you."

"I trust her," Johnny said in his flat toneless voice. "How much trust am I supposed to have?"

"Then let it alone son," she begged. "You got her all for yourself. Ain't that enough?"

"I don't know whether I got her all for myself or not," he said. "That's what I want to find out."

"Ain't no good ever come from digging up the past," she warned.

"You tell me what it is and I'll stop digging," he said.

"Tell you what, son?"

"Whatever in the hell it is," he said. "If I knew I wouldn't be here."

"What is you want to know?"

"I just want to know what it is she thinks I'll pay ten grand for her to tell me," he said.

"You got it all wrong, Johnny," she argued in a moaning voice. "That's just Doll Baby lying to try to make herself look big. If Val was alive he'd tell you she was lying."

"Yeah. But he ain't alive," Johnny said. "And I got to find out for myself whether she's lying or not."

"But Val must have told you something," she said, sobbing deep in her thin old chest. "He must of told you something or else-" She broke off and began to swallow as though to swallow the words she'd already said.

"Or else what?" he asked in his toneless voice. She kept swallowing until she could say finally, "Well, it's got to be something that you went all the way to Chicago for, 'cause it can't just be what a lying little bitch like Doll Baby says."

"All right then, what about you?" he said. "You ain't been lying. What you keep pleading Dulcy's case for then, if there ain't nothing to plead for?"

"I just don't want to see no more trouble, son," she moaned. "I just don't want to see no more blood spilt. Whatever it might have been, it's over with and she's all yours now, you can believe that."

"You ain't doing nothing but just adding to the mystery," he said.

"There ain't never been any mystery," she argued. "Not on her part. Not unless you made it."

"Okay, I made it," he said. "Let's drop it. What I called to tell you was I got her locked up in the bedroom-"

"Good Lord above!" she exclaimed. "What good you think that's going to do?"

"Just listen to me," he said. "The door's padlocked from the outside with a Yale lock. The key is on the kitchen shelf. I want you to go and let her out long enough to get something to eat and then lock her up again."

"Lord have mercy, son," she said. "How long do you think you can keep her locked up like that?"

"Until I straighten out some of these mysteries," he said. "That ought to be before the day's over."

"Don't forget one thing, son," she pleaded. "She loves you."

"Yeah," he said, and hung up.

Mamie dressed quickly in her black satin Mother Hubbard and her own men's shoes, dipped her bottom lip full of snuff and took the snuff stick and box of snuff along with her.

The sky was black-dark like an eclipse of the sun, and the street lights were still burning. Not a grain of dust nor a scrap of paper moved in the still close air. People walked about silently, in slow motion, like a city full of ghosts, and cats and dogs tiptoed from garbage can to garbage can as though afraid their footsteps might be heard. Before she found an empty taxi she felt herself suffocating from the exhaust fumes that didn't rise ten feet above the pavement.

"It's going to rain tadpoles and bull frogs," the colored driver said.

"It'll be a blessing," she said.

She had her own set of keys to the apartment, but it took her a long time to get in because Grave Digger and Coffin Ed had left the locks unlocked and she locked them thinking she was opening them.

When finally she got inside she had to sit for a moment in the kitchen to steady her trembling. Then she took the key from the shelf and unlocked the bedroom door from the hall. She noticed that the bathroom door was standing open but her thoughts were so confused it held no meaning for her.

Dulcy was still asleep.

Maime covered her with a sheet and took the empty brandy bottle and glass back to the kitchen. She began cleaning the house to occupy her mind.

It was ten minutes to twelve and she was scrubbing the kitchen floor when the thunderstorm broke. She drew the shades, put away the scrub brush and pail and sat at the table with her head bowed low and began to pray,

"Lord, show them the way, show them the light, don't let him kill nobody else."

The sound of the thunder had awakened Dulcy, and she stumbled toward the kitchen, calling in a frightened voice, "Spookie. Here, Spookie."

Mamie looked up from the table. "Spookie ain't here," she said.

Dulcy gave a start at sight of her. "Oh, it's you!" she exclaimed. "Where's Johnny?"

"Didn't he tell you?" Mamie asked.

"Tell me what?"

"He flew to Chicago."

Dulcy's eyes widened with terror and her face blanched to a muddy yellow. She flopped into a chair, but got up the next instant, got a bottle of brandy and a glass from the cabinet and gulped a stiff drink to quiet her trembling. But she kept on trembling. She brought the bottle and glass back to the table and sat down again and poured herself half a glass and started to drink it. Then she caught Mamie's look and put it down on the table. Her hand was trembling so violently the glass rattled on the enameled table top.

"Put on some clothes, child," Mamie said compassionately. "You're shaking from cold."

"I ain't cold," Dulcy denied. "I'm just scared to death, Aunt Mamie."

"I am, too, child," Mamie said. "But put on some clothes anyway, you ain't decent."

Dulcy got up without replying and went into the bedroom and put on a yellow flannel robe and matching mules. When she returned she picked up the glass and gulped the brandy down. She choked and sat down, gasping for breath.

Mamie dipped another lipful of snuff.

They sat silently without looking at each other.

Then Dulcy poured another drink.

"Don't, child," Mamie begged her. "Drinking ain't going to help none."

"Well, you got your lip full of snuff," Dulcy charged.

"That ain't the same thing," Mamie said. "Snuff purifies the blood."

"Alamena must have took her with her," Dulcy said. "Spookie, I mean."

"Didn't Johnny say nothing at all to you?" Mamie asked. A sudden clap of thunder made her shudder and she moaned, "God above, the world's coming to an end."

"I don't know what he said," Dulcy confessed. "All I know is he came sneaking in the back door and that's the last thing I remember."

"Was you alone?" Mamie asked fearfully.

"Alamena was here," Dulcy said. "She must have taken Spookie home with her." Then suddenly she caught Mamie's meaning. "My God, Aunt Mamie, you must think I'm a whore!" she exclaimed.

"I'm just trying to find out why he flew to Chicago all of a sudden," Mamie said.

"To check up on me," Dulcy said, gulping her drink defiantly. "For what else? He's always trying to check up on me. That's all he ever does, just check up on me." A roll of thunder rattled the windowpanes. "My God, I can't stand all that thunder!" she cried, jumping to her feet. "I got to go to bed."

She grabbed the brandy bottle and glass and fled to the bedroom. Lifting the top of the combination radio and record player, she put on a record, got into the bed and pulled the covers up to her eyes.

Mamie followed after a moment and sat in the chair beside the bed.

The wailing voice of Bessie Smith began to pour into the room over the sound of the rain beating against the windowpanes:

When it rain five days an' de skies turned dark as night

When it rain five days an' de skies turned dark as night

Then trouble taken place in the lowland that night

"Don't you even know why he locked you up?" Mamie asked.

Dulcy reach over and turned the player down.

"Now, what'd you say?" she asked.

"Johnny had you padlocked in this room," Mamie said. "He phoned me from Chicago to come over and let you out. That's how come I knew he was in Chicago."

"That ain't nothing strange for him," Dulcy said. "He's chained me to the bed."

Mamie began to sob quietly to herself. "Child, what's happening?" she asked. "What happened here last night to send him off like that?"

"Ain't nothing happened no more than usual," Dulcy said sullenly. Then after a moment she added, "You know that knife?"

"Knife? What knife?" Mamie looked blank.

"The knife what killed Val," Dulcy whispered. Thunder rolled and Mamie gave a start. Rain slashed at the windows.

"Chink Charlie gave me a knife just like it," Dulcy said.

Mamie held her breath while Dulcy told her about the two knives, one of which Chink had given to her and the other he'd kept for himself. Then she sighed so profoundly with relief it sounded as though she were moaning again.

"Thank God then we know it was Chink who done it," she said.

"That's what I've been saying all along," Dulcy said. "But ain't nobody wanted to listen to me."

"But you can prove it, child," Mamie said. "All you got to do is show the police your knife and then they'll know it was his that killed him."

"But I ain't got mine no more," Dulcy said. "That's what I'm so scared of. I always kept it hidden in my lingerie drawer and then about two weeks ago it come up missing. And I been scared to ask anybody about it."

Mamie's complexion turned a strange ashy gray, and her face shrank until the skin was stretched tight against the bones. Her eyes looked sick and haggard.

"It just don't have to be Johnny what took it, does it?" she asked piteously.

"No, it don't have to be for sure," Dulcy said. "But there ain't nobody else who could have took it but Alamena. I don't know why she'd have taken it unless just to keep Johnny from finding it. Or else to have something to hold over me."

"You has a woman to come in here to clean," Mamie said.

"Yes, she could have taken it too," Dulcy admitted.

"It don't sound like Meeny," Mamie said. "So it must have been her. You tell me who she is, child, and if she took it I'll get it out of her."

They looked at one another through frightened, white-circled eyes.

"We just kidding ourselves, Aunt Mamie," Dulcy said. "Ain't nobody took that knife but Johnny."

Mamie looked at her and the tears rolled down her old ashy-black cheeks.

"Child, did Johnny know any reason to kill Val?" she asked.

"What reason could he have had?" Dulcy countered.

"I didn't ask what reason he could have had," Mamie said. "I asked what reason he might have known about."

Dulcy slid down into the bed until only her eyes were showing above the covers, but still she couldn't meet Mamie's gaze. She looked away.

"He didn't know of none," she said. "He liked Val."

"Tell me truth, child," Mamie insisted.

"If he did," Dulcy whispered. "He didn't learn it from me."

The record played out and Dulcy started it over again.

"Did you ask Johnny to give you ten thousand dollars to get rid of Val?" Mamie asked.

"Jesus Christ no!" Dulcy flared. "That whore's just lying about that!"

"You're not holding anything back on me, are you, child?" Mamie asked.

"I might ask you the same thing," Dulcy said.

"About what, child?"

"How could Johnny have found out, if he did find out, if you didn't tell him?"

"I didn't tell him," Mamie said. "And I know Big Joe didn't tell him because he'd just found out himself and he up and died before he had a chance to tell anybody."

"Somebody must have told him," Dulcy said.

"Then maybe it was Chink," Mamie said.

"It wasn't Chink 'cause he don't know," Dulcy said. "All Chink knows about is the knife and he's trying to blackmail me for ten-grand. He claims if I don't get it for him he's going to tell Johnny." Dulcy began laughing hysterically. "As if that'd make any difference if Johnny knows about the other."

"Stop that laughing," Mamie said sharply and reached over and slapped her.

"Johnny will kill him," she added.

"I wish Johnny would," Dulcy said viciously. "If he don't really know about the other then that would settle everything."

"There must be some other way," Mamie said. "If the Lord will just show us the light. You can't just settle everything by killing people."

"If he just doesn't already know," Dulcy said.

The recording played out and she put it on again.

"For God's sake, child, can't you play something else," Mamie said. "That tune gives me the willies."

"I like it," Dulcy said. "It's just as blue as I feel."

They listened to the wailing voice and the intermittent sound of thunder from without.

The afternoon wore on. Dulcy kept on drinking, and the level of the bottle went down and down. Mamie dipped snuff. Every now and then one of them would speak and the other would answer listlessly.

No one telephoned. No one called.

Dulcy played the one recording over and over and over.

Bessie Smith sang:

Backwater blues done cause me to pack mah things an' go

Backwater blues done cause me to pack mah things an' go

Cause mah house fell down an' I cain' live there no mo'

"Jesus Christ, I wish he'd come on home and kill me and get it over with if that's what he wants to do!" Dulcy cried.

The front door was unlocked and Johnny came into the flat. He walked into the bedroom wearing the same green silk suit and rose crepe shirt he'd worn to the club the night before, but now it was wrinkled and soiled. His. 38 caliber automatic pistol made a lump in his right coatpocket. His hands were empty. His eyes burned like live coals but looked tired, and the veins stood out like roots from his graying temples. The scar on his forehead was swollen but still. He needed a shave, and the gray hairs in his beard glistened whitely against his dark skin. His face was expressionless.

He grunted as his eyes took in the scene, but he didn't speak. The two women watched him with fear-stricken eyes, unmoving, as he crossed the room and turned off the record player, then parted the drapes and raised the window. The storm had stopped, and the afternoon sun was reflected from the windows across the airwell.

Finally he came around the bed, kissed Mamie on the forehead and said, "Thanks, Aunt Mamie, you can go home now." His voice was expressionless.

Mamie didn't move. Her old, bluish-tinted eyes remained terror-stricken as they searched his face, but it revealed nothing.

"No," she said. "Let's talk it over now, while I'm here."

"Talk what over?" he said.

She stared at him.

Dulcy said defiantly, "Ain't you going to kiss me?"

Johnny looked at her as though studying her under a microscope. "Let's wait until you get sober," he said in his toneless voice.

"Don't do nothing, Johnny, I beg you on bending knees," Mamie said.

"Do what?" Johnny said, without taking his gaze from Dulcy.

"For God's sake, don't look at me as though I crucified Christ," Dulcy whimpered. "Go ahead and do whatever you want to do, just quit looking at me."

"I don't want you to say I took advantage of you while you were drunk," he said. "Let's wait until you get sober."

"Son, listen to me-" Mamie began, but Johnny cut her off. "All I want to do is sleep," he said. "How long do you think I can go without sleeping?"

He took the pistol from his pocket, put it beneath his pillow and began stripping off his clothes before Mamie had got up from the chair.

"Leave these in the kitchen as you go out," he said, giving her the near-empty brandy bottle and glass.

She took them away without further comment. He piled his clothes on the chair she'd vacated. His heavy brown muscles were tattoed with scars. When he'd stripped naked he set the radio alarm for ten o'clock, rolled Dulcy over and got into bed beside her. She tried to caress him but he pushed her away.

"There's ten G's in C-notes in my inside coat pocket," he said. "If that's what you want, just don't be here when I wake up."

He was asleep before Mamie left the house.