Chester Himes - The crazy kill

"I ain't saying it was your idea," he said. "But you were going to do it. That's for sure. And that means just one thing. You and Val had something on Johnny that was worth that much money or you'd never have gotten up the nerve to try it."

Dulcy laughed theatrically, but it didn't come off. "You remind me of that old gag where the man says to his girl, 'now let's both get on top.' That I'd like to see-just what me and Val had on Johnny that was worth ten grand."

"Well, baby, I'm going to tell you,' he said. "It ain't as if I need to know what you had on him. I know you had something on him, and that's enough. When that's tied together with the knife, which you claim you've still got but ain't showing nobody, that means a murder rap for one of you. I don't know which one and I don't care. If it don't hurt you, don't holler. I'm giving you your chance. If you pass, I'm going to Johnny. If he plays tough I'm going to have a little talk with those two Harlem sheriffs, Grave Digger and Coffin Ed. And you know what that's going to mean. Johnny might be tough, but he ain't that tough."

Dulcy got up and staggered over to the sideboard and drank two fingers of brandy straight. She tried to stand, but she found herself teetering and flopped into another chair.

"Listen, Chink, Johnny's got enough trouble as it is," she said. "If you press him just a little bit now, he'll blow his top and kill you if they burn him in hell for it."

He tried to look unimpressed. "Johnny's got sense, baby. He might have a silver plate in his head but he don't want to burn any more than anybody else."

"Anyway, Johnny don't have that kind of money," she said. "You niggers in Harlem think Johnny's got a backyard full of money trees. He ain't no numbers man. All he's got is that little skin game."

"It ain't so little," Chink said. "And if he ain't got that kind of money, let him borrow it. He's got that much credit with the syndicate. And whatever he's got ain't going to do neither one of you no good if I drop the boom."

She sagged. "All right. Give me two days."

"If you can get it in two days you can get it by tomorrow," he said.

"All right, tomorrow," she conceded.

"Give me half now," he said.

"You know damn well Johnny don't have no five G's in this house," she said.

He kept pressing her. "How about you? Ain't you stole that much yet?"

She looked at him with steady scorn. "If you wasn't such a goddam nigger I'd stick you in the heart for that," she said. "But you ain't worth it."

"Don't try to kid me, baby," he kept on. "You got some dough stashed. You ain't the kind of chick to take a chance on getting kicked out on your bare ass."

She started to argue but changed her mind. "I've got about seven hundred dollars," she admitted.

"Okay, I'll take that," he said.

She got up and staggered toward the door. He stood up too, but she said, "Don't follow me, nigger."

He started to ignore her but changed his mind and sat down again.

Alamena heard her leave the kitchen and started back from the front room, but she called, "Don't bother, Meeny."

After a moment she returned to the kitchen with a handful of greenbacks. She drew them across the table and said, "There, nigger, that's all I've got."

He started to get up and pocket the money, but the sight of the green patch on the red-and-white checked cloth nauseated her, and before he could reach the money she had bent over and vomited all over it.

He grabbed her by the arms and slammed her into a chair, cursing a blue streak. Then he took the filthy money to the sink and began washing it.

Suddenly the dog came tearing into the kitchen and began barking furiously at the door that led to the service entrance, which was in the corner of the kitchen. It opened into a small alcove which led into the service stairway. The dog had heard the sound of a key being inserted quietly in the lock.

Alamena came running into the kitchen on its heels. Her brown face had turned pasty gray.

"Johnny," she whispered, pressing her finger to her lips.

Chink turned a strange shade of yellow, like a person who'd been sick for a long time with yellow jaundice. He tried to ram the half washed, dripping wet money into his side coat-pocket, but his hands were trembling so violently he could scarcely find it. Then he looked wildly about as though he might jump out of the window if he weren't restrained.

Dulcy began laughing hysterically. "Who ain't scared of who?" she choked.

Alamena gave her a furiously frightened look, took Chink by the hand and led him toward the front door.

"For God's sake, shut up," she whispered toward Dulcy.

The dog kept barking furiously.

Then suddenly the sound of voices came from the back stairway.

Grave Digger and Coffin Ed had converged from the shadows the instant Johnny put his key in the lock.

In the kitchen they heard Grave Digger saying, "Just one minute, Johnny. We'd like to ask you and the missus some questions."

"You don't have to shout at me," Johnny said. "I ain't deaf."

"Occupational traits," Grave Digger said. "Cops talk louder than gamblers."

"Yeah. You got a warrant?" Johnny said.

"What for? We just want to ask you some friendly questions," Grave Digger said.

"My woman's drunk and ain't able to answer any questions, friendly or not," Johnny said. "And I ain't going to."

"You're getting kind of big for your britches, ain't you, Johnny," Coffin Ed said.

"Listen," Johnny said. "I ain't trying to be no big shot or play tough. I'm just tired. A lot of folks are pressing me. I pay a lawyer to talk for me in court. If you got a warrant for me or Dulcy, then take us. If you ain't, then let us be."

"Okay, Johnny," Coffin Ed said. "It's been a long day for everybody."

"Are you wearing your rod?" Grave Digger asked.

"Yeah. You want to see my license?" Johnny said.

"No, I know you got a license for it. I just want to tell you to take it easy, son," Grave Digger said.

"Yeah," Johnny said.

While they were talking, Alamena had let Chink out of the front door.

Chink had buzzed for the elevator and was waiting for it to come when Johnny let himself into the kitchen of his flat.

Alamena was washing the tablecloth. The dog was barking. Dulcy was still laughing hysterically.

"Why, imagine seeing you, daddy," Dulcy said in a blurred drunken voice. "I thought you were the garbage man, coming in that way."

"She's drunk," Alamena said quickly.

"Why didn't you put her to bed?" Johnny said.

"She didn't want to go to bed."

"Nobody puts Dulcy to bed when she don't want to go to bed," Dulcy said drunkenly.

The dog kept barking.

"She was sick on the tablecloth," Alamena said.

"Go home," Johnny said. "And take this little yapping dog with you."

"Come on, Spookie," Alamena said.

Johnny picked up Dulcy in his arms and carried her into the bedroom. Outside in the corridor, Grave Digger and Coffin Ed joined Chink at the elevator doors.

"You're trembling," Grave Digger observed.

"Sweating, too," Coffin Ed added.

"I just got a chill is all," Chink said.

"Damn right," Grave Digger said. "That's the way to get chilled permanently, fooling around with another man's wife, and in his own house, too."

"I just been tending to my own business," Chink said argumentatively. "Why don't you cops try that sometime?"

"That's the thanks we get for giving you a break," Grave Digger said. "We held him up until you had time to get away."

"Don't talk to that son of a bitch," Coffin Ed said harshly. "If he says another word I'll knock out his teeth."

"Not before he talks," Grave Digger warned. "He's going to need his teeth to make himself understood."

The automatic elevator stopped on the floor. The three of them got in it.