If I Should Die (29 page)

“Good … Good.” He continued to stare, absently stroking the stack of bills between his fingers.

“Ain’t seen you around. First time?”

Before I could answer, he went on. “Listen here, pretty. I be up a little later. You wait. Treat you to somethin’ real nice. Real, real nice, you hear …”

He leaned close and smiled and in the dim light his teeth glittered like an advertisement for a new Klondike gold rush. I said nothing and backed away up the steps, then turned to catch up with Carol.

The entire second floor had been converted into three large rooms stretching from the front of the building to the back. A small window on the back wall was open, with a sheet of black plastic draped across it, but the slight breeze rippling through did nothing to lighten the odor.

I heard sounds—groaning, mumbling, cursing—and thought of skinny, wide-eyed squeegee men stumbling through screaming traffic for a quarter.

I thought of empty bottles and cans being rushed to recycle for a handful of nickels.

I imagined someone dying and left in a corner to decay.

The lighters flicked like fireflies, casting faces in small yellow circles. A bright glow from a deep, one-second draw, and the faces were swallowed again by the dark.

I stepped just inside the door and tried to get my bearings.

“Watch where you steppin’, bitch, else you lose your fuckin’ leg!”

“Sorry!” I moved quickly, wondering if anyone ever apologized in these circumstances. More likely, it would
have been worse if I said nothing. Nobody likes being ignored.

My stomach was turning and my throat closed against the smell. I took another small step, moving gingerly, and stepped on something else. The odor was overwhelming and I knew that someone had just relieved themselves right there on the floor.

I quickly gave up trying to find Carol and backed out to the narrow hallway to lean against the banister, trying to catch my breath. More people came up the steps and I bent over the railing with my head down. In their rush to light up, they passed me without a backward glance.

I looked in the other rooms, a quick look, and I wanted to cry. There, barely illuminated in the gray light, were the young girls, some no more than eight or nine, performing on a line of men. Other men stood by with their pants open, watching and waiting, while still others had little girls on the floor and against the walls.

The girls’ cries filled the room louder than the animal sounds of the men.

I closed my eyes and backed away.

 … This is how Johnnie gets his money. Driving that Cadillac, walking into that club with Maizie dragging that coat. Sitting there like a king drinking that champagne.

This is how he does it. It has nothing to do with the Pink Fingernail or any of his other businesses. It has to do with nine-year-olds, thrown away. Wiped-out babies. Zombies. This is how he does it …

My head began to hurt and I knew what was about to happen. If I didn’t get control of myself, I would fly into that crowd screaming, smashing at everything in sight. And I would not leave there alive. I backed farther away and sat on the step in the dark hallway but the hammer in my head would not stop. The flight led to the
upper floors and I turned and looked up. If anyone stopped me, I would ask for the bathroom. I needed one, just to throw up.

I slipped the crack vial into my pocket and started to climb. On the second step, a small beep sounded and I froze. I sat down and decided that the best thing to be was sick, if someone came out.

I waited. I heard movement—light footsteps above me—but no one came. I sat on the step a minute longer, with my head propped in my hands. The beep had been nearly imperceptible. If my chest had been pumping any harder, I would not have heard it.

 … There’s a closed-circuit. Electronic eyes. No wonder there’re no guards in the halls …

I fumbled in my pocket for a Tic-Tac, took some out, swallowed several, and wondered how that looked on the monitor. Pill popping. I certainly didn’t need to come in here for that.

I got up, one hand pressing my stomach and the other against my mouth, looking sick for the monitors. I leaned against the wall, doubled over, then moved back up to the second step. Then a step beyond, and this time nothing happened. The monitor was silent.

On the dark and narrow third floor, I moved slowly, still bent over and holding my stomach, still searching for a bathroom, if anyone asked. I heard nothing and moved on.

The fourth floor seemed vacant except for a half dozen large, empty, metal vats at the end of the hall. I climbed up to the fifth floor and voices filtered from behind closed doors but they were muffled, hard to understand. It didn’t matter. What I had seen would be enough to pull a raid as fast as Tad could get the warrant.

I turned to leave.

“Say, pretty. Ain’t you a little off the track? This is off limits. What you doin’?”

Kenny leaned on the banister at the bottom of the steps, smiling up at me.

“Lookin’ for a bathroom,” I said, trying to match his whispery voice.

“Well, come on down. I take you to one. I take you to one.”

“I don’t have to go no more.”

“Is that right?”

He moved up the steps now, still smiling.

“Yeah, that’s right.”

I faced him, looked into his glittering mouth, and knew there was no talking my way out of this. I thought of the young girls downstairs and it wouldn’t take much more to get me over the edge.

“So now you got a problem ’cause I don’t need no bathroom?”

“Hey!” He held up his hands in mock shock. “What’s them pills you just took? Got you real pumped up, baby. Real pumped up.”

He moved closer and I refused to back away. If I did, he would know he had the upper hand. He came up the steps slowly, one hand on the banister and the other on the wall, blocking me.

“Look, how ‘bout a little bit right here … five minutes and you can walk out like nuthin’ happened. Otherwise, I got to tag you, got to let the boss know you crossed the line.”

The boss already knew and this dog was determined to get his before he turned me over to him.

I sat down on the top step, put my hand on my ankle, and watched him come up.

“Kenny, fuck you and your smelly breath!”

“Well now, ain’t that somethin’. ’Cause that’s just what you gonna do. Just what you gonna do … and this’ll soften you up a little. So you can show some respect—you bitch!”

He lunged up the step and swung so hard that if his fist had connected, my head would have gone through the wall. It brushed my face as I ducked down and came up again in a wide-swinging arc. The stream of Mace went directly into his eyes and he fell back down the steps, howling.

“Shit! Fuckin’ bitch, I kill you! I kill you!”

I scrambled to my feet and ran along the narrow landing, found another vat, but this one was full, too heavy to roll down the stairs. By this time, doors were opening on the landing below and noise was coming from everywhere.

“Shit, man! Who the fuck did this? Who got to you?”

“Bitch up there!”

He was rolling on the floor pointing and screaming as he covered his face.

I was looking for a way out when another door opened behind me and someone grabbed me around my neck, pressed something to my face, and dragged me inside.

M
y eyes flew open at the loud cracking sound and the side of my face burned from the stinging slap. For a minute, I saw two of everything: fluorescent fixtures swaying dizzily overhead, two long tables covered with drug paraphernalia, two desks in the corner against the far wall, two doors with steel bars, and four windows, one pair opening onto a fire escape and the other closed.

I was in a straight-back chair with my hands fastened behind me, and when Johnnie Harding stepped in front of me, I saw two of him.

“That ether is a bitch, ain’t it? Hope I didn’t give you too much, I know what it does to the brain.”

He perched on the edge of the table and his image slowly came into focus. I stared at him, trying to get my thoughts together. When I opened my mouth, my jaw hurt and my tongue felt thick.

I tried to reconcile the handsome face, the manicured fingers, and the gold Rolex against the shabby image
of Carol bargaining her soul away at the door and the children crying in the rooms below.

He continued to watch me and swing his foot lightly against the table leg.

“Kenny’s a good man. One of my main men. And you nearly put him outta commission.”

He nodded his head casually, speaking as if a fellow corporate exec had met with a slight mishap but was shortly expected back at the desk.

“Yep. Good man. Now—”

He moved from the table and adjusted the overhead light. Long shadows fell across his face as he turned toward me.

“Now, pretty. We don’t need no introductions since I already know you. Recognize those eyes a block away. We gotta talk. You was comin’ up to do what? Take down my whole operation single-handed? Ain’t that somethin’? Damn, I wish you was on my team. I’m tired a these bitches who don’t do nuthin’ but look pretty. Waste a time.

“Anyway, we gonna talk a little about how much you know, how much you don’t know, and dependin’ on what you sayin’, we might think about lettin’ you slide—that is, if you can make it outta here with one foot. Or maybe one arm. Or maybe no arms. So think about it. You got a few minutes. I’m waitin’ for my advisers, then maybe you can convince us all.” He walked over to the small television, turned it off, and smiled. “Tic-Tacs. Ain’t that somethin’? Girl pumped on Tic-Tacs. Gotta get me some a those.”

As he moved past me, his cologne was light and smelled nothing like the odor in the rooms below, nothing like the sweat of those screaming little girls. He looked tall and elegant, as if he’d been mistakenly transported into this place by some sci-fi sleight of hand. Then I thought of the sting of his palm against my face.

I watched him wave his hand over the plastic bags, canisters, vials, rubber bands, and scales, as he paced in front of the table.

“I pull a heavy dime from this. Same old story, folks thinkin’ they too slick to get sick; too hip to say no; and some fools just don’t give a damn …” He pressed his fingers against one of the bags. “A lot of money. And like any other enterprise, this has its ups and downs. You know what I mean. Folks get greedy … and treacherous. And you have to deal with ’em. Always got to watch your back.

“You an ex so I don’t have to run this thing to you. You know the deal. How it works. Who gets paid, who gets laid, and so on down the line. I won’t waste your time. And you won’t waste mine, right? So what I want to know is, why’re you here?”

I looked at him and I had no choice but to remain calm. “You want to know why I’m here. My father’s lying on his death bed from a beating and you want to know why I’m here? Johnnie, that man never hurt anyone. Why did this happen to him?”

“And you’re askin’ me? Well, I got the wire, but I’m lettin’ you know, that’s not my style. Not my style at all.”

“Whose style is it?”

“Well, now. You ain’t goin’ nowhere just yet so give it five. You give us some answers and maybe you’ll get some answers.”

He went to the desk near the wall, took out a .357 Magnum, checked it, and placed it back in the drawer.

“Now, I heard you were lookin’ for Vivian …”

“I was?”

“Yeah. Did you find her?”

His voice was like syrup and I felt a slight chill when he smiled.

“Did you find her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You want to hear the tape?”

“No, not really.”

“Okay, so now we back on track.” He returned to perch on the edge of the table and swing his foot lightly in a small arc. “So what did you want from her?”

He wasn’t waiting for his advisers, probably because he needed some private information, something he could hold on to for another time.

“Johnnie, I wanted to know … who killed your brother. Erskin was a friend of mine. A good friend. I’m trying to find out why he had to die the way he did. I was there. You know I was. I saw him shot down like a dog and left there in the rain. I want to know who did it.”

His expression seemed to change and I watched him closely. No one except him had ever referred to Erskin as his brother. I could see it in his face. When he spoke, his voice was lower and the casual menace was gone.

“My brother. Yeah. He didn’t have to go out that way.” Then almost as an afterthought, he whispered, “Heard he was sweet on you …”

“Word certainly gets around …” I tried to smile but my face still hurt. “How’d you know that?”

“Like you say, word gets around.”

“Then, how come you know that but couldn’t find out who killed him? He’s your own brother, you know.”

“Dammit! I know who he was. I don’t need no stupid bitch to preach to me.” He slammed his hand into the table and everything on it shook.

“I’m sorry, Johnnie. I wasn’t preaching. It’s just that I … I liked your brother very much.”

“Liked him enough to bring me down?”

“I never thought you had anything to do with it, Johnnie. Never.”

He seemed to calm down almost at once and his foot started to swing again.

“You know, Erskin was quite a man. Had that … quality about him that I wanted. I even wanted his mama to be my own …

“When I was little, my mama never cared one way or the other what I did. She was so busy. So I used to stand across the street and watch my brother go to school. Even tried to say hello but he was well trained, he never spoke. I was a stranger.

“I watched him grow up and, you know, I wanted his life, his talent. He never had a dime but I saw how he used his intelligence to get something that was worth something. Now, lookin’ at you, I can see what he saw, and I don’t blame him. I don’t blame him … But like they say, there’s only one roll of the dice. This is the only go-round we get and we got to make the best of it.”

I only nodded because it was too late to go into my “it’s not too late” speech that I’d perfected with some of the young brothers when I had been on the beat. Johnnie’d been in the game too long. He had gotten hard, so hard that he no longer heard the small voices in the rooms below. I needed to try something else.