Black Betty (30 page)

When I noticed that the Thunderbird was gone I ran down the rich people’s hill.

I found Saul crouched down in the front stair holding the back of his head.

“He sapped me,” he said.

“The kid?”

Saul nodded. “I saw him drive away in the T-Bird. Then I passed out again.”

Saul let his head hang loose.

“Gwendolyn’s dead.”

Saul let go of the pain and stood right up. “Where?”

“Out back. They got this kinda maze back there.”

“You sure she’s dead?”

I didn’t answer and he didn’t ask again.

Sarah was still sitting where I had left her.

“What can we do?” she asked when we got her into the front hallway again.

“You expecting anybody to come by?” That was Saul.

“No. On Thursdays and Fridays, Clementine comes in to help Elizabeth and, and… Gwen.… We have to call the police.”

“We can’t,” I said.

“Why not?”

Of course, if there’s a violent murder right there in your house, you call the police. But not if you’re the murderer. And if she hired the killer, would she have had him come to her house?

“Do you know who did this?” I asked.

She shook her head. The hand she held up in front of her face was still bleeding from the barbed wire.

“You got somebody to take you in?” I asked.

“Up at the ranch.”

“Could you drive yourself?”

“Gwen does the driving,” she said hopefully as if maybe that simple declaration would bring the poor dead girl back to life.

“How about some friend? Somebody nearby?”

“There’s Bert and Louise Fresco.”

“That’s your husband’s lawyer, right? The new one he got after firing Hodge. They friends of yours?”

“They used to be.”

“Used to be before he decided to do what’s right and try an’ give Betty what’s hers—is that what you mean by used to be?”

She didn’t answer. She just stood there shaking her head at us.

“Okay,” I told the grieving woman. “We cain’t leave you here. I don’t think anybody wanna shoot you, but we can’t be sure. So call them and we’ll drop you off there. He can call the cops,” I said, holding up a finger, “but you tell him about Styles. You tell him, okay?”

She nodded, a little.

She went to the phone and dialed Fresco, but no one answered.

“It’s not good, Easy,” Saul said. “We got to take her somewhere. It’s not safe here.”

“I guess we could take her to the police. Or call a cab to take her there. By that time we could be back in L.A. anyway.” I was thinking about what Detective Lewis would say when he heard that I was at the scene of another murder.

“I can’t go to the police,” Sarah said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“I just can’t go there.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“I want Betty,” she said, just like a young child who’s tired and wants the person she loves the most in the world. I knew then that Sarah Cain didn’t want to kill Betty.

“Okay, but I got one question to ask you before we go.”

“What?” It was only a word but it told me that one more question, maybe even another breath, might destroy her.

“What’s goin’ on with your boy?”

“Why did he hit me?” Saul added. “Why’d he run?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah Cain said to the floor. “Maybe, maybe he was scared. Arthur’s always been afraid of things. And you did have a gun.”

“Saul,” I said, prompting the little detective. It was the first time that I’d called him by his first name, and it struck me as odd. Somehow in that hard time we crossed over into being work friends. Dependent on each other, close.

“What about you and Ron Hawkes?” Saul asked.

“What does he have to do with it?” Sarah Cain might have been hurting but her hatred for her husband was healthy.

“Hodge told me that Miss Eady’s brother was a pal of your husband. That they ran together. When he gave me the Joneses’ name he also said that I should look for Hawkes.”

“What do you know about that?” I asked the woman. “Arthur got all sick when I mentioned his father’s name. He couldn’t even talk.”

“I haven’t seen Ron Hawkes in over nine years,” she said. “Arthur wants a father but he doesn’t know what that man really is.”

“What is he, ma’am?” Saul asked.

Instead of answering she looked down the long aisle of suits of armor.

“Where could Arthur have gone?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Sarah Cain lied.

ODELL AND MAUDRIA weren’t happy to see us, but what could they say? Betty wasn’t there. Odell said that Felix had come and taken her home. Maude took one look at Sarah and took her into the bedroom to rest. She sat there at her side after that. I think that Maude needed to take care of that woman as much as Sarah needed to be taken care of.

I called Primo just to see how the kids were doing. Mofass was there and he wanted to crow but I wouldn’t talk to him. I had too many things on my mind.

WHEN I GOT OFF THE PHONE Saul took me by the arm and brought me out on the porch.

“Leave me alone with Mrs. Hawkes for a while, Easy,” he said.

“What for?”

“I think I know how to talk to the lady but I need to be alone with her.”

“Okay,” I said. “I got one more thing to do anyway.”

“What’s that?”

“Somethin’ private.”

Back inside the house I told Odell, “I think I’ll take a spin over to Martin’s house. Saul’s okay. He wants to talk to the lady.”

Odell smiled a sad smile. “Martin’s hurtin’, Easy. I can’t hardly stand to see him in that kinda pain. All this other hurt I could see, but at least these people got some kinda chance. All Martin got is less every mornin’. He ask me every day to kill him. Just give him some poison don’t hurt. He hurtin’, Easy.”

“There’s a lotta that in this world, Odell. Lot of it.”

“But a man like Martin is just too good to have to take it.”

I could see the suffering down in Odell’s heart.

It felt good to see my old friend’s heart again.

PEA WASN’T GOING to let me in but she relented when Martin struggled up out of his chair and came to the door. We both helped him out to the porch. He looked different, healthier in some way, but I couldn’t tell why at first. Then I saw that it was his clothes; they fit him well around the neck and waist. The jeans were a little loose but other than that he looked fine.

“Little Willie’s,” he said when he saw me notice. “Pea’s son with Willis. He’s eleven years old an’ his clothes was in the trunk and they fit me.” Martin lifted up his arm and admired the checkered long sleeve of his flannel shirt.

“Where’s Willis?” I asked. Pea had gone back into the house where she could sit in front of the fan.

“When Pea seen that we still hated each other but that I wasn’t gonna die soon she made him go out and get a job.”

“Doin’ what?”

“He’s a usher at the Baldwin Theater and a short-order cook at Silo’s bar.”

“Can I do anything for you, Martin? I mean, is there anything you need me to take care of?”

“I wanna die, Easy. I cain’t take this.”

“You hurt?”

He nodded. “But it ain’t the pain. It’s gray death.”

“What’s that?” I was a young boy again at the feet of a scientist and a craftsman.

“It’s in my bones, Ezekiel. It’s eatin’ through me like a slow-worm. It’s like gettin’ et alive.”

I took his hand and he was grateful but I knew he’d rather have me choke his bird neck.

We talked for about fifteen minutes, until Martin fell asleep. I didn’t leave then. I didn’t let go of his hand. Every now and then his eyes would come half open and he’d squeeze my fingers. I had some hard choices in my life but that was the hardest one, ever.

When he came to I leaned over and kissed him on his cheekbone, then I whispered a magic formula in his ear.

“What?” he asked me. So I told him again. And then one last time.

I left without saying good-bye to Pea.

SAUL WAS SITTING at the dining table in the kitchen eating ham hocks, mustard greens, and honeyed lemon yams. Maude stood behind him beaming at the way he could put away food.

Sarah Cain was at the table too. She was ashen and nauseated. The plate in front of her remained untouched.

“Easy.” Saul looked up from his forkful of greens. “Mrs. Hawkes here has some interesting things to say about Arthur and his habits.”

“Arthur hasn’t done anything wrong,” the pale woman complained.

“I didn’t say he did,” Saul garbled through a mouth packed with buttery yams. “All I’m saying is that Arthur came home late to the house with Marlon Eady and Terry Tyler the night that Albert Cain died.”

“What?”

“That’s it. What?” Saul said in mocking irony. “What were Marlon and Terry doing there then? Huh?”

“I don’t know,” Sarah answered. She pushed the food away.

“Honey, you got to eat,” Maude said.

“I just can’t.”

“How did Arthur even know them?” I asked.

“It had to be Ron,” she said. “Marlon and Ron were friends in a way. I mean, they went around together. Ron is a bully, Mr. Rawlins. He likes to push people around. Marlon was a mild man really. I always thought that it must have been my father who got Ron to set up Marlon. That was before Father knew about me and Ron.”

“Did Betty know that Marlon was there, I mean the night that your father got killed?”

All Sarah did was shake her head.

“Do you know where Arthur is?” I asked.

She wouldn’t answer.

“Listen,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me where he is, but do me a favor. Call him. Tell him that I know he was there with Marlon and Terry. Tell him that I’ll help him if I can. Will you do that for me?”

She might have nodded.

I sat back and wondered at the possibilities.

Maybe Arthur killed his grandfather for beating him or his mother or Betty. Maybe Marlon killed him.

But I didn’t care about that. For all I knew the police hadn’t even officially called it a murder. All I wanted was for Betty to survive. I couldn’t save her brother or her children, I couldn’t save Martin. But maybe I could help Betty.

SAUL AND I PARKED across the street from the turquoise house.

When nobody answered my knock I called, “Open up, Betty. It’s Easy Rawlins. Come on, open up.” There was a panic in my body all of a sudden. My fists clenched up and the perspiration from the heat turned to free-flowing sweat. My greatest fear was that Betty was on the floor on the other side of the door like all of the other corpses I associated with her—spread-legged, brainless, toothless, and dead.

When the door came open I was prepared for any kind of mayhem.

But I wasn’t prepared for Felix Landry. He wore tight tan pants and a white silk shirt that wasn’t tucked in.

“You’re not welcome here, Mr. Rawlins.”

“We have to talk to Betty.” I pronounced my words slowly and clearly to let Felix know that I meant what I was saying.

He turned to the side and said to someplace behind the door, “You wanna see Mr. Rawlins, lady?” He paid attention to the hidden place for a moment and then turned back to me, “Betty don’t wanna see you.”

When he tried to shut the door my arm shot out to push it open. Felix was my height but he had a slim build. Still he grabbed me. He bared his teeth and snarled.

“Yeow!” I shouted when Felix’s fingernails dug into my arm. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Saul reach for his pistol. Quickly I pushed both hands against Felix’s chest. He flew backwards and the door swung open.

“Something happened to Gwendolyn!” I shouted before the violence could escalate.

Betty, who was still standing beyond the door, sobbed, “No,” and then she shook, “No, no, no, no, no,” all the way down to the floor.

Felix shouted, “Betty!” and ran to her side. Saul and I scuffled in but we didn’t approach them.

“No!” Betty cried, and she socked Felix on the jaw, making the sound of two wooden blocks being slammed together.

Felix fell flat on his back. He wasn’t completely out, though. He was writhing on the floor, trying to rise.

“Noooo,” Betty beseeched with upturned eyes. She began to tear at her chest, ripping open the man’s work shirt that she wore, revealing a large breast that looked as if it had never suckled a child. I tried to cover her up but all I did was to keep grabbing her like some rough kind of lover. Finally I gave up.

“Ahhhhh, oh!” she yelled. She began running around the room turning over furniture.

Noooooo!
Ahhhhhh! Oh Lord!” Dishes and plates went flying from a scarred old maple cabinet. I ran to grab Betty by her arms from behind.

“Nooooo!”

I was holding Betty in front of a long slender mirror that was attached to the door leading to her tiny bedroom. Both of her breasts were out and she struggled with the strength of a mother fighting to save her child. With a great heave she pulled one arm free and let fly with a china cup that she’d grabbed. The mirror shattered in place, our images froze for a second in a thousand slender shards, and then fell to the floor, giving me the distinct impression that it was both of our lives that had been splintered and destroyed.

“Let me go!” she shouted. “Let me go!”

I obeyed her plea.

Saul backed against the wall. Felix made it to his feet for a moment, then tumbled back to the floor.

Betty started ripping the cushions off the sofa, tearing open the material and letting the foam rubber fly.

“Betty! Stop it!” poor Felix yelled. He staggered toward her. Betty turned to him in rage and terror. I was afraid that she was going to hit him again.

“It’s her daughter!” I yelled at Felix. “She’s dead!”

Felix didn’t know what to make of what I’d said. But Betty did. Her shouts turned to pathetic sobs and she fell hard to the floor on her knees.

Saul went to her side and I went to Felix. I told him that Gwendolyn had been murdered.

We got Betty up and led her to the bedroom. Felix took off her clothes and dressed her in a nightgown. He surrounded her head with pillows and kept his body between the bed and me and Saul. All the while Betty was sighing and muttering to herself. I didn’t understand the words but I knew what she was saying.