Walter Mosley - A Red Death

For no reason Mouse grabbed Mofass by his wrist, roughly, and then let him go. The surprise made the fat man yelp like a dog.

“It’s the t-t-truth, man. I called’er an’ told’er that if she was nice to my friend I’d let her slip by the summer.”

“So you put ’em together?”

“Yeah. Lawrence couldn’t hold his liquor worth a damn.

An’ you know when Poinsettia got there, an’ started strokin’ ’im, he was drinkin’ it like water an’ swaggerin’ in his chair. I took ’em down to a hotel that night.”

“So?”

“What could I do?” Mofass hunched his sloped shoulders.

“He had me run her out to’im much as three times a week. They always be drinkin’. Sometimes I didn’t even take ’em nowhere but they just do it in the car.”

“While you drivin’, man?” Mouse asked.

“Yeah!”

“Shit! Thas some white boy you got there, Easy.”

“I don’t believe a word of this shit,” I said. “I seen Agent Lawrence, he straight as a pin.”

Mofass put his hands up to placate me. Mouse, as usual, smiled at the sign of surrender.

“You ain’t seen ’im when he gets to drinkin’, Mr. Rawlins. He get crazy-like. An’ you know Poinsettia be gettin’ him so high on love. Then sometimes he’d get mean an’ beat her till she stayed inside fo’a week.”

I remembered seeing Poinsettia in sunglasses on cloudy days.

“All right, Mofass. You got a story here but I still don’t see what it gotta do wit’ me.”

“ ’Bout six months ago they was shackin’ up in a house I was brokerin’ down on Clark. Lawrence got drunk an’ th’ew Miss Jackson down the stairs. She was hurt pretty bad an’ we hadda take her to a doctor I know.”

“She didn’t have no accident?”

Mofass shook his head, swallowed to wet his throat, and continued. “At first he was guilty an’ wanted t’pay fo’her. Thas when he set up Rufus Johnson.”

“I know him. He’s one’a the men on that list in yo’ desk.”

“Yeah, a colored man. Live in Venice Beach. Lawrence set him up for tax fraud, and then I snuck in and tole Mr. Johnson that I could free him up fo’ some cash.”

“An’ you split the money?” I asked.

“Lawrence took most of it, I swear.”

“An’ now he’s after me.”

“We worked that job on five other people. Never nobody I knew. An’ he was okay for a while but then he got like he needed money fo’ him. He started complainin’ ’bout how Poinsettia an’ his own wife an’ child were anchors on his neck. He started on me about findin’ one rich Negro an’ then he could leave for good.”

“An’ you give’im me?”

Mofass’s eyes filled with tears but he didn’t say a word.

“How did he think he could get my money?”

“We was gonna get you t’sign yo’ property ovah t’me an’ then we’d play like he got the tax law on me, but really we’d sell off the property and he’d get the money on the sly. He was gonna take it all. He knowed how black people don’t hardly ever fight with the law.”

“But if that’s true, why didn’t you let me sign my money over when I asked?”

“You ain’t no fool, I should know that, right? I figured that if I jumped at yo’ idea you’d know sumpin’ was up. So I told Lawrence t’ sweat ya. Make you scared and you’d beg me t’take what you got. Then when I had tax troubles later on an’ the IRS took my money you’d know what it was like an’ jus’ be happy it wasn’t you.”

“But you lyin’, man. Even if this tax shit is true, why would he kill anybody?”

“Why’d I kill’em, man?” he yelled.

Mouse, holding up a solitary finger, said, “Keep cool, brother.” Then he slapped Mofass across his face with the pistol. Mofass’s head whipped around hard and his big body followed it down to the floor. He got up holding his bloody cheek with both hands.

“What you hit me fo’?” he screamed like a child.

Mouse held his finger up again, and Mofass was silent.

“Answer me, Mofass,” I warned.

“I don’t know. All I know is that he called me to his house right after that FBI man cut you loose. He told me he wanted to know ev’rything you did. So I tole’im ’bout you workin’ fo’ the church. You know how you said you was keepin’ tabs on Towne?”

“An’ how come you didn’t come t’me wit’ none’a this?”

“He had me by my balls, Mr. Rawlins. I was a tax evader an’ I helped him rob them people. An’ you know he was crazy too.

“He tole me that if the FBI got hold of his files on you they would know what we were up to. That’s why he had me go to Jackie and Melvin. He went t’Towne hisself.”

“An’ killed him?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that he went there and that Towne is dead.”

I went on, “But you didn’t say nuthin’ when people started gettin’ killed, did you, Mofass?” The muscles in my arm twitched, and I shifted the pistol so as not to shoot him before I knew it all.

“At first I didn’t know. I mean, why would I think that he gonna kill Poinsettia? An’ by the time Towne got it I was scared about me.”

“Why’d Poinsettia get killed? What she have to do with this?”

“He offered her money, money so that she would call the police an’ blame you for beatin’ her.”

Mofass lifted his hands in a gesture of helplessness. The side of his face was swelling around the deep red welt on his cheek.

“You know how that girl was. She said sumpin’ to’im. Like how she gonna go to you if he don’t pay her some more. She blamed him fo’ her bein’ sick an’ she wanted to be taken care of.”

“Man, that don’t make no sense. Why he want her to blame me fo’ hittin’ her in the first place?”

“If you was in jail the FBI would have to find somebody else and then he could still get your money and save his ass.”

Mofass began to weep.

“And you were going to let me give it to ’im, huh?”

“What was you gonna do fo’ that FBI, man? Ain’t that what he had you doin’? He said he’d save yo’ money if you do somebody else dirt, ain’t that right? How come you any different than me?”

Mofass hurt me with that.

“Let’s get it over, Ease,” Mouse said. He waved his pistol in the general direction of Mofass. I wouldn’t have believed such a fat man could cower in his chair.

“No, man.”

“I thought you wanted this boy’s blood?” Mouse sounded indignant. “He fucked wit’ you, right?”

“Yeah, he did do that.”

“Then le’s kill the mothahfuckah.”

“That’s all right. I got a better idea.”

Mofass let another fart go.

“Like what?” Mouse asked.

“I want you to give me Lawrence’s address, Mofass.”

“You got it.”

“And I want his home phone number too.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Rawlins, I got it right here,” he said, tapping his temple.

“Don’t mistake me, Mofass,” I warned. “This ain’t no merry-go-round here. You go fast right to the grave if you make a bad step. My man Raymond here is death, yo’ death if you do sumpin’ wrong.”

“You don’t have to warn me on that account,” Mofass said in his business voice. “But can I ask you what it is you plan to do?”

“Same as you’d get if you play this wrong.”

After he’d written the information I told him, “Go home, Mofass. Go somewhere. It will all be over by this time tomorrow.” After Mofass fled, Mouse said, “We shoulda killed’im.”

“No reason,” I answered.

“He tried to cheat you, man. Tried to steal yo’ money.”

“Yeah, he did. But you know we wasn’t never friends. Uh-uh, Mofass an’ me was in business. Businessmen steal just to keep in practice fo’they legal work.”