Bad Boy Brawly Brown (33 page)

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“Dead? Why dead?”

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“Because the only reason a lotta mothahfuckahs out there didn’t 14 S

come after you was because’a Raymond,” Sam said. “They hated you 15 R

but they were more scared of Mouse. Some’a the peoples come in
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my place called you all kindsa dog, but they knew better than to even 1

say sumpin’ to you. Shit. Easy Rawlins got a guardian angel from 2

hell, that’s what they said.”

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Part of the reason Sam was riding me was that he was jealous of 4

my friendship with Mouse — everybody was. Raymond Alexander 5

was the most perfect human being a black man could imagine. He 6

was a lover and a killer and one of the best storytellers you ever 7

heard. He wasn’t afraid of white people in general or the police in 8

particular. Women who went to church every week would skip out 9

on Sunday school to take off their clean white panties for him.

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And I was his only friend. I was the one he called first. I was the 11

only one who could tell him no. If Mouse was going to kill a man, I 12

was that poor soul’s last court of appeal.

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But that wasn’t all that was eating Sam. He was a talker, a 14

thinker, a man who read the newspaper every day — but Sam was 15

not a man of action. He stayed behind his door-board and stared 16

down the bad men who came into his place. In his restaurant he was 17

the king. But on the street he was just another guy, a frightened black 18

man in a world where being black put you below the lowest rung of 19

white society.

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There were no black men in tuxedos playing the violin at the 21

symphony or elected to the Senate or at the heads of corporations.

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There were no black men on the board of directors or representing 23

our interests in Africa, and very few cruising up and down Central 24

Avenue in police cars. Black men, as a rule, were not scientists or 25

doctors or professors in college. There was not even one black 26

philosopher in all the history of the world, as reported by our uni-27

versities, libraries, and newspapers.

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If you wanted to be an important black man, you had to take a 29

risk and go your own way. You had to challenge a man who outS 30

numbered you ten to one. And every one of that ten was armed with R 31

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the latest weapons while all you had was a slingshot. That’s why 2

David was such a famous biblical character in the black community, 3

because, against all odds, he brought down the giant.

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That’s what Sam Houston dreamt of doing, standing tall and 5

making a difference. He saw himself as an important, intelligent 6

man but he was afraid, with good reason, to stand out from the herd 7

and be heard.

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“Well, you know, Sam,” I said, “I been through some pretty hard 9

times without Raymond at my side. I mean, I made it through a 10

whole world war and five years in L.A. when he was still down in 11

Texas. And then there was that five years he did for manslaughter.

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Naw, man. Those people talkin’ to you have had their chance before 13

now.”

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It wasn’t the words but the tone in my voice that kept Sam from 15

one of his snappy replies.

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“What you want from Clarissa?” he asked.

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“Whatever it is she knows and I don’t.”

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That wrinkled look took over Sam’s face, and I knew that he was 19

thinking again.

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“What?” I asked him.

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“This is what you used to do? Run around sniffin’ after what 22

somebody might know? Drivin’ all over hell?”

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“Before I settled down to a job,” I said. “Yeah.”

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“But somebody like John cain’t pay you. I mean, John cain’t 25

hardly cover the price for the materials he usin’ to build them 26

houses.”

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“That’s true,” I said. “Sometimes I’d be out there findin’ some-28

body’s missin’ wife when all I was gettin’ out of it was a free tune-up 29

for my car. But every now and then I’d open some door and some-30 S

body’d be on the other side offerin’ a thousand dollars just to close it 31 R

again.”

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“That’s crazy,” Sam decreed.

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“Yeah, you better believe it. More than that,” I said. “
Crazy
ain’t 2

even the word.”

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Sam brought me to a small house in Riverside, on a street called 4

Del Sol. The lawn was unruly and the bushes that grew around the 5

walls had become ragged. From the design of the house, I was sure 6

that it was built by the people who had first lived in it. Arc-shaped 7

and multileveled, it was two stories to the right of the entrance and 8

only one to the left. When Clarissa opened the front door she fell 9

back and I could see that there was another door behind her. The 10

glass in that door revealed a green backyard. It was a home with its 11

own personality. I broke out a cigarette to accent my pleasure at the 12

unique design.

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“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Doris called but she just 14

said that you were comin’, Sam.”

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“It’s okay,” Sam said. “I know you been lyin’ to me, but Easy here 16

done broke it down. I brought him to find out about Brawly, but he 17

ain’t gonna do nuthin’ to hurt either one’a you.”

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Clarissa’s shoulders slumped and she led us into the living room, 19

which was in the two-story part of the house. The room had been 20

straightened up recently. I could tell that the once pristine white car-21

pet had seen a spate of stains and cigarette holes, but all of that had 22

been vacuumed and cleaned to show its best face. The rosewood fur-23

niture was old and well cared for, except at one time the spilled 24

glasses had been set upon the surfaces with no coasters and the ciga-25

rettes that fell to the floor first were set on the corners, where they left 26

bullet-shaped black smudges along the edge.

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Everything that could be reached was dusted, but there were 28

cobwebs along the ceiling and thick dust at the top of the drapes.

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Clarissa was wearing blue jeans and a white T-shirt with no bra S 30

underneath. She was a good-looking girl. Her skin was dark and her R 31

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light eyes large and translucent. If I had to guess her thoughts, I 2

would have said that she was hoping that she could close her eyes 3

and when she opened them we would be gone.

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“Sit down, Clare,” Sam said.

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She did as she was told.

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The fluffy tan sofa and chairs had been vacuumed also. The suc-7

tion hole had left neat lines across each fabric surface. I took to a 8

chair while Sam sat down next to his cousin on the couch.

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“Mr. Rawlins has some questions to ask you,” Sam said.

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“I ain’t talkin’ to him,” she said.

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“Why not?” A sharp tone came into Sam’s voice.

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“ ’Cause I ain’t,” she declared, and I was reminded of Juice.

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“They killed Henry Strong,” I said. “You know that, right?”

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Clarissa looked up at me with hatred in her eyes.

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“I didn’t do it, sugar,” I told her. “But whoever did is still out 16

there.”

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“What’s that got to do with me an’ Brawly?”

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“The first one killed was his father,” I said. “Somebody beat him 19

to death at Isolda Moore’s house.”

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For an instant the bright-eyed girl froze.

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“Isolda Moore,” I repeated. “She’s Brawly’s cousin, used to live 22

up here. You know her, don’t you, Clarissa?”

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“Bitch,” she uttered.

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“What kinda language is that?” Sam said.

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“Let her use any language she need to, Sam,” I said. “Is this her 26

house?” I then asked Clarissa.

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“No.”

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“Then it must be BobbiAnne’s,” I said. “BobbiAnne Terrell’s 29

house. What is it, the parents dead? Moved away for good? They 30 S

can’t just be on vacation, not with the mess this place was in before 31 R

you cleaned it up.”

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Clarissa was stunned by my simple deductions. Sam was, too.

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“How you know all that?” he said.

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“Did they bring the guns out here?” I asked Clarissa.

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She shook her head.

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“What guns?” Sam wanted to know.

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“How long was Conrad livin’ out here?” I asked.

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Clarissa started to cry.

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“I didn’t tell you,” she sobbed. “I wouldn’t.”

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“Of course you wouldn’t,” I said in a soothing tone. “You’d never 9

betray your man. But you kids are in it deep. It doesn’t matter that he 10

thinks he’s invisible, that he believe the cops and the government 11

don’t know what he’s doin’. He thinks they don’t even know he’s out 12

there, but he’s in plain sight, like a sittin’ duck, like a fish in a barrel, 13

like —”

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“Stop it,” Clarissa cried. “What do you want from me?”

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“It’s like I told you from the start,” I said. “I’m workin’ for 16

Brawly’s mother. She thinks he’s in trouble, and I think she’s right.

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What I need from you is to help me help him outta the mess he 18

don’t even know he in.”

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“He told me not to talk to you.”

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Sam reared up and opened his mouth, but I put up a hand be-21

fore he could holler.

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“I know,” I said. “I know. You love him and you think he loves 23

you. And if you go behind his back, he might get so mad that he’ll 24

just walk away — you might not never see him again. But that ain’t 25

nuthin’. You’re a pretty girl and good in your heart. You’ll find an-26

other boyfriend and Brawly will still be breathin’.”

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“He said that you were the police” was her reply.

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“Honey,” Sam said. “You know that man I always talked about —

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Raymond Alexander?”

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“The one they called Mouse?”

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“Yeah, that’s the one. You know all them stories I said about him.

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About when he faced down and killed three armed men in the Fifth 3

Ward and all he had was a stick. About when the police heard that 4

he was holed up in a house outside’a L.A. and said that they couldn’t 5

go because it was across the county line.”

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“And when three of his girlfriends,” Clarissa added with a grin, 7

“made his birthday party with bows in their hair.”

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“That’s him.”

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Clarissa smiled and said, “So?”

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“This here Easy Rawlins was Mouse’s best friend. They ran to-11

gether for almost thirty years, since they were kids. If there’s anything 12

I’m sure of, it’s that Mouse would never have run with a man that 13

could turn another black man over to the cops.”

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“I thought you said that Mouse was dead,” Clarissa said.

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“Nobody ever saw a body or went to a funeral,” Sam replied.

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“And even if they did, that wouldn’t turn Easy here into no rat.”

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Clarissa considered for a moment and so did I. I wondered at the 18

strength of character and will of a man like Raymond who could 19

reach out beyond the grave to help me in that Riverside hideout.

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/ “NO,” CLARISSA WAS SAYING,
“he didn’t ever tell 1

me what he was doin’. All I know is that they

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started to work with Mr. Strong on somethin’. They were like a spe-3

cial group inside the Party, and only a few of them knew what was 4

goin’ on.”

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“What were they doing?” I asked again.

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“I don’t know. Conrad would come over and pick Brawly up at 7

all hours. They’d go off and meet with Mr. Strong —”

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“Did he meet with anybody else?” I asked.

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“I think so,” she said. “But I never knew who. I mean, I figured 10

that they were in the group but it was all secret.”