Charcoal Joe (23 page)

“And she took him up on it?”

“We were whores, Mr. Rawlins; disposable women. If a man offers you money and respectability, that's a powerful gift. He told her that he was saving his money to take her to Jamaica and buy her a house.”

The old passport with no photo suddenly made sense.

“But she has Joe's baby and lives apart,” I said.

“Uriah wanted to take care of her,” Irena said. “But he didn't have enough money yet. So she still had to work for Doris.”

“And that's how she met Joe.”

“Uriah was heartbroken when she went with Joe,” Irena continued. “He loved her but she realized that the man she needed was Joe.”

I wondered if there was some course at Stanford or UCLA that explained and explicated the Economics of Love.

“Jazz felt guilty. That's why she had Joe make him her gatekeeper. She wouldn't share Uriah's bed, but she wanted to protect him because he was the first man that had ever tried to save her.”

“But that just made him mad.”

“I worked for her,” Irena admitted. “I held packages she moved for Joe so Uriah wouldn't steal them and get himself—and maybe Jasmine—killed.”

Feeling suddenly restless I asked, “You gonna eat that soup?”

Curling her left nostril, she shook her head no more than a few centimeters.

“Then let's get out of here.”

I drove up into the hills without any specific direction in mind. We had no reason to trust each other but at least we acted like we did.

“So what happened?” I asked, even though I already knew.

“Tom.”

“He made you steal from your friend?”

“I went crazy. One day, just two months ago, Jasmine had Tom bring over a satchel of money that one of Joe's men collected down at the docks. It was a small amount; maybe forty-five thousand dollars. I was supposed to deliver it to a man in Compton.

“Tom was handsome and so I offered him a drink. He kissed me and then opened the bag. I wasn't worried. If he stole from Joe he'd be a dead man. Then he kissed me some more and asked why didn't we run with the money? I told him the power Joe had and how no one ever stole from him and lived. He said he was joking…and then we were lovers.

“I didn't tell Jasmine. I should have told her.

“When Joe's customers made big deals where large sums had to be turned into diamonds, I used Seymour's book. Jasmine said that she never understood it and nobody wanted to read about physics. There was a big transaction coming. Tom knew something was up.”

“How?”

“He was passing information from Joe to Peter and Tony. He knew it was something big.”

“So Joe knew?”

“Joe knows everything. He always made things run smoothly because the police saw him as some kind of petty criminal, just a low-level gambler. But then Gene Stapleton came to me. He was the point man for the Cincinnati mob that was moving the cash. He wanted me to give him the diamonds when they came in. He said that he'd fix it so that everyone blamed Boughman. He promised me a hundred thousand.”

“And what did you do?”

“I needed time to think and so I told him that because it was so much money, the diamond dealer insisted on bringing the stones personally to the meeting, that he would have a bodyguard with him.”

“And so the Cinch decided to go in there with his three men,” I said. “Kill the dealer and Peter, then run with all that money, the diamonds too.”

“I was scared and I was angry. I was in love and, you know, when you love somebody you always think that their heart is like yours; that they could never betray you. So I told Tom. I didn't plan to at first but he could see it in me. I told him everything and, and…he said that we could do what Stapleton planned. We could steal the money and the diamonds. He said that we'd run away together. I didn't want to but…but between Stapleton and Tom the choice seemed easy.”

We had reached a promontory. I pulled off the road and got out of the car. Irena came after and we leaned against the warm hood, looking down on the blanket of brown smog suffocating the inland town.

It felt as if we were under some kind of temporary cease-fire where the foot soldiers could climb out of their trenches without the fear of death.

I was already smoking before I knew there was a cigarette between my fingers.

“Can I have one of those?” she asked.

We smoked for a while in silence.

When she crushed the butt under her red shoe I asked, “So why did you turn against your boyfriend?”

She gazed at me as if the answer was written there on my forehead.

“I don't sleep well,” she said at last. “In Poland, whenever I felt safe, next there came the fear. I knew that I was never safe and that my greatest enemy was feeling that I was.

“Then, three nights before Tom was going to rob Boughman, I woke up in his bed so nervous that I had to get up. I wanted to run but told myself that this was silly. There was no more war. I had met a man that I loved.

“I wandered the house thinking that any minute he would reach out for me and then wake up to come tell me that he loved me and bring me back to bed….”

I gave her another cigarette and lit us both.

“When he didn't come I looked through his uniform for a cigarette. There was a letter folded in his shirt pocket, a letter he had written to Felicia Whitman—his fiancée in North Carolina.”

She didn't say any more about the letter. She didn't have to.

“But even so,” I said, “you went through with the robbery.”

“What could I say to him? He had plans that didn't include me. He knew the setup and I still had to get away from Stapleton. The next morning I put the diamonds in the book and took it to Jasmine's. Then I brought the journal to Seymour. He'd never met me and I wore a scarf and dark glasses—I talked like an old Jewish grandmother.”

“Why Seymour?”

“No one would suspect that he held the secret to the diamonds. I told Tom that I got nervous and sent the diamonds in the mail to Jasmine just in case Stapleton or Peter decided to take them from me.

“Then, on the morning of the tradeoff I gave Stapleton an address in the Hollywood Hills, telling him that that was where Boughman was to make the trade. I said that the dealer was going with his bodyguard and that they told me to stay away.

“From there you know. Tom went to Malibu six hours before the meeting. Peter was early too but only by a few hours. When Tom heard him at the door he hid in a closet. Peter was there with another man. They talked about how they would steal the diamonds. Peter said that they could hide in the closet. When the man with Peter opened the door Tom shot him. Boughman didn't have the money on him and so Tom beat him and then he lost his temper and killed him. He had just finished searching Boughman's car when he saw Seymour going toward the beach. Tom didn't know who he was or what house he was going to, but he called the police so that they would think a Negro had broken in.”

“But why would you kill Tom?” I asked. “I mean you had the diamonds, you could have just run?”

“It was a mistake to tell Tom I sent the diamonds to Jasmine. If Boughman had had the money, that would have been all right but he didn't have the cash. He planned to rob me.

“Every day after he killed Boughman and Brown, Tom would ask me about the diamonds. I put him off by saying that they must still be in the mail. That worked until night before last. He said that he'd kill Jasmine if she didn't give us the stones. I had no choice.”

The coldness in her tone was the announcement of the end of the cease-fire.

“When Stapleton came to the store he couldn't do anything because of the new security guard and the others. I told him that Boughman called at the last minute to change the meeting place. I told him I had no idea of what happened after that.”

“And he believed you?”

“Not completely, I don't think. But why would I still be at work if I stole from the mob? And he was in trouble with them too. I wanted to get the diamonds and run, but Seymour was in jail and Jasmine was heartbroken. I wanted to help her if I could and I thought, if I lived, I could get the diamonds later. But now you have them.”

“Yes,” I lied. “I do.”

“I could turn them into cash.”

“How much?”

“Six hundred thousand, at least.”

“What does your boss say about all this?”

“You mean Sol?”

“Yeah.”

“I showed him the story about the murder in the paper. I told him that it was not only theft but also murder. Sol is a coward. He took a jet to Israel the next day.”

“Smart man.”

“What about the money, Mr. Rawlins? I have the connections to get the best deal and I know who to trust.”

“Except for bad men and boyfriends.”

“Can we make a deal?”

“You shot your last partner in the back.”

“I won't shoot you.” She smiled after saying this and I couldn't help but like her.

“I'm gonna drive you home and then go think on it,” I said.

She wanted to argue but there was nothing to say and so we got back into the car.

When we were parked in front of her house I said, “Let me ask you something.”

“Yes?”

“How did you get out of Tom's house without being recognized?”

“No one knew me there. Most of the time we went to my place. I put on his sweat suit and rolled up the pant legs and the sleeves. After I put up the hood you really couldn't be sure if I was a small man or a woman.”

“And just one more thing.”

“What?”

“Stapleton.”

“What about him?”

His men came to my house right after I started looking into Boughman's murder. How did he know about me?”

“Tom said he overheard enough of what Joe said after you left to know that he had hired you. When Gene asked me the next day about what happened, I mentioned that I heard Joe had talked to you.”

I didn't say anything but I'm sure that my face hardened.

“I was desperate, Mr. Rawlins. I thought I was going to be murdered.”

“What's done is done,” I said. And I meant it, too.

I stopped at Corky's gas station again and went to a pay phone.

“Hello?”

“Fearless.”

“What's wrong, Easy?”

“You hear it in my voice?”

“Like a buoy in the dark, brother.”

“I need you to do something for me, Fearless.”

“What's that?”

“I want you to go to a house and take a book off of a glass table.”

“That don't sound like somethin' to have the blues over.”

“There's two dead men in the house. When you get there you have to make sure that they haven't been found yet. If it's clear, take the book then wrap it in brown paper, write my name on it, and drop it in the slot of my office. Definitely don't let Seymour see it.”

I knew that Fearless took me seriously because he waited six or seven seconds before saying, “You got it, Easy. If I don't see no cops you can consider it done.”

There was more money in the trunk of my car than most eight-ton armored cars ferried in a month. On a coffee table in the mausoleum of Jasmine's high house there was a boxed set of college lectures containing a cache of diamonds of equivalent value.

There had been five murders plus the incidental deaths of Stapleton's men. The murderer was dead. His killer was a woman scorned and desperate.

Redd Roberts was dead, but that hardly seemed to matter.

I pulled up into the driveway of my house, turned off the ignition, and sat there wondering about my next move. Some guy named Sol had secured the diamonds on credit, expecting a windfall, but now he was tucked away in Jerusalem or maybe Tel Aviv. The money belonged to the mob.

My lover was gone for good; deserting me for a crippled king in a wheelchair.

I like to think that I'm an honest man, but in the modern world you can't carry honesty very far without taking a break from time to time. Back then, in the sixties, two million dollars was enough for an entire lifetime of rent and meals, reasonably priced clothes, and, of course, gas for the car. I could send Feather to any university in the world and buy a house for Jesus and his family.

I put my fingers on the key still in the ignition, intending to fire up that engine again, then go to my office, pick up Feather, and drive as far away as I could get.

It was remembering the talk with Sarah Garnett that changed my mind. I was all Feather had, and the road I wanted to embark upon might have some bumps.

My job was to keep Feather's life as smooth as possible. Money might have been useful, but the currency she needed was stability and love.

Plucking the key from the ignition, I climbed out of my Dodge.

I crossed the lawn to my front door thinking that maybe I should have used Saul and Whisper the way they relied upon me. Maybe their help would have made the road easier.

With teamwork and delegation in mind, I walked across the threshold into my soon-to-be ex-house.

“Mr. Rawlins,” he said.

I looked up to see who my home invader was, recognized him, and said, “You lied to me.”

“About what?” Charcoal Joe asked.

“You're the one who orchestrated the money exchange.”

Ox Mason, standing behind his lord, shifted his shoulders menacingly.

“Shall we go into the living room?” Joe suggested.

“How'd you get out of Avett?” I asked Rufus Tyler when we were seated.

“They have a prisoner release policy,” the prodigy explained. “If there's serious business or some tragedy, an inmate can get a pass for a day or so. That's at Administrator Bell's discretion.”

Ox Mason was standing next to the sofa chair his boss inhabited.

“And what was this?” I asked.

“A little of both.”

“How so?”

“Two million dollars has gone missing, and I'm the one that assured the transaction would be completed without incident.”

“I thought Sol Hyman had signed for the stones,” I said. I shouldn't have. It was like showing a cardsharp your hand before discarding and drawing again.

“How did you know…” But before the question found its subject, realization dawned and he said, “Willomena.”

“Miss Avery and I had a conversation.”

“She was involved?”

“It was your postman—Willow.”

“And where is he now?”

“In the morgue keeping Boughman and Stapleton's men company,” I said. “Uriah and Tony Gambol are also dead. Money and blood are constant companions, it seems.”

“Mr. Hyman left the country as a precaution against early death,” Joe said, telling me what I already knew. “But the people he deals with will come to me for the cash. Willomena was not familiar with that part of the deal.”

Joe stared at me a moment or so. I felt that I had crossed a border into a land where the laws I abided by were not enforced.

“Why are you here, Mr. Tyler?”

“I need to know what you know, Mr. Rawlins.” His smile was almost innocent.

“Like what?”

“Was Jasmine or Seymour involved in the theft?”

“No.”

“You're sure?”

“Yes.”

“Why are you sure?”

“Willow figured out what you were into. I don't know how. Maybe some delivery you put him on. He killed Boughman and his man, stole the money, and laid hands on the diamonds.”

“And where was Willomena in all this?”

“She was making the delivery. Being Southern, Tommy refrained from killing her but he scared her pretty good.”

Joe's nose twitched.

“Who killed Tom?”

“Does that have something to do with your money?”

“If Tom stole the cash and stones then his killer probably took my property.”

My soul-searching in the driveway had paid off in an unexpected manner. I might have been able to hide from the white men that lost the cash, but a black gangster like Charcoal Joe would have gotten to me sooner or later. Too many people knew my involvement in the moving parts of the thefts.

“What if I told you that I might be able to find your two million?” I said.

“Then I'd believe that you were the one that killed Tom Willow.”

“Would that matter?”

“He was from North Carolina like my people were.”

“And that makes you loyal to him?”

“Not one bit. Now where's my money?”

“I didn't kill Willow but the cops will probably know who did. If I play it right they'll lead me right to your money and never even realize it.”

“That's a whole lotta
if
.”

“What if I told you that I'd give it to Jasmine within the next two days?”

“Is that what you're telling me?” Joe asked.

“What would the return of your money be worth?”

“The man or woman who delivered it could take, say, seventy-five thousand from the cash.”

“Two days,” I said.