Thomas Cook - Streets of Fire

Ben kept his eyes straight ahead as he guided the car past knots of city police and highway patrolmen until it nosed up the embankment to the street.

Breedlove stood at the top of the hill, his hat pulled down over his eyes. When the car stopped, he strolled over and leaned in, his arms resting on the open window.

‘Looks like it’s going to be a pretty day,’ he said to Ben. Then his eyes shifted over to Coggins. ‘What do you think, Leroy? Reckon we might bust some ass today?’

Coggins sat rigidly in place. A line of sweat formed on his upper lip.

‘What do you think, Leroy?’ Breedlove repeated in a thin, threatening voice. ‘Think maybe some of us crackers might bust a few burrheads before the sun goes down?’

Coggins did not move. He kept his eyes straight ahead, but as Ben glanced over toward him, he noticed that his knees were trembling.

Breedlove glanced at Ben. ‘Where you taking this boy?’

‘Just going for a ride,’ Ben said.

Breedlove laughed. ‘Bullshit.’

‘I’m checking a lead,’ Ben told him.

Breedlove smiled as he stepped away from the car. ‘Well, you guys have a great time, you hear? But if you get a chance, come on down to the park. It’s going to be real lively down there this afternoon.’ He stepped back from the car and tipped his hat. ‘Have a safe and happy day.’

Coggins let out a quick, nervous breath as Ben pulled into the street. ‘I’m tired of being scared,’ he said angrily, his teeth tightly clinched. ‘I’m just tired of it.’

Ben eased the car on down the street. Lines of helmeted highway patrolmen stood at intervals all along the avenue, their pump shotguns held casually in their arms. To the right the Chief’s white tank could be seen wedged in between two brightly polished fire trucks, and a few feet away Black Cat 13 seemed to be sunning itself lazily in the bright morning light. Teddy Langley sat behind the wheel, his eyes silently following Ben’s car as he muttered into his police radio.

‘You know them?’ Coggins asked. ‘You know the Lang-leys?’

‘A little.’

Coggins’ eyes bore down on Ben. ‘You could be taking me to them, for all I know. This whole thing could be a setup.’

Ben slammed on the brakes and the car skidded to a squealing halt in the middle of the street. ‘Get out!’ he said hotly.

Coggins stared at him, thunderstruck.

‘Get out!’ Ben repeated sharply. ‘If you think I’m taking you off to be whipped or killed or something, then get the hell out of this car right now!’

Coggins did not move.

‘Just open the goddamn door,’ Ben told him.

Coggins smiled nervously. ‘And be shot for trying to run away or something.’

Ben whipped his pistol from his shoulder holster and handed it to Coggins. ‘Take this with you.’ He thrust it toward Coggins’ face. ‘Take it. Or do you think I have another one, some little sawed-oflfjob in my back pocket?’

Coggins pressed his back against the door. ‘I’d have to be crazy to take that thing.’

‘Take the fucking gun,’ Ben demanded. ‘Throw the chamber open. Make sure it’s loaded.’

Coggins shook his head. ‘No way, man. They see me with a gun, I’m dead.’

Ben let the pistol drop from his hand. It fell into Coggins’ lap and he shuddered to the right, as if it were a rattlesnake. ‘Get that thing away from me!’ he cried.

‘As long as we’re out together,’ Ben said, ‘you’re going to keep the gun. Then maybe after a while, you might get the idea that I’m not setting you up for anything.’ For a moment he glared at Coggins angrily. ‘If I wanted you dead, I’d do it myself,’ he said finally. Then he kicked the accelerator angrily and the car jerked forward, twisting wildly as it roared toward Fourth Avenue.

The morning heat had already begun to build on the street by the time Ben pulled the car over to the side and stopped. All of Fourth Avenue swept out before him. It was a wide boulevard which made up the main street of the Negro section of downtown. The sweet smell of curling parlors and barbecued meat hung in the air, and as Ben stepped out of the car, he could see the racks of discount clothing which had been brought out onto the sidewalks and which now fluttered lazily in the slow, heavy breeze.

‘They’ll bring all that stuff back inside when the marchers come,’ Coggins said, as if he were divulging a trade secret. ‘That’s how you know when it’s beginning.’ He smiled at Ben. ‘Have the cops figured that out yet?’

Ben did not answer. He continued to stare down the street. It was crowded with early morning pedestrians, and he found that his eyes were already sorting out the large from the small, concentrating on men with big hands.

‘What do we do now?’ Coggins asked after a moment.

Ben pointed to a small jewelry store across the street. ‘We’ll start there,’ he said.

Coggins nodded toward the pistol, which still rested in his lap. ‘What do I do with this?’

‘Put it in your belt, then cover it with your shirt,’ Ben told him casually.

‘But I can’t just –’ Coggins began.

Ben stared at him fiercely. ‘You get out of this car without that gun, and I’ll kill you myself.’

‘But, I can’t – can’t –’

Before he could finish, Ben stepped out of the car and headed toward the store. He was peering into its front window when Coggins came up beside him.

‘This is the sort of place that has that kind of ring,’ Ben said quietly. He pointed to a shoe box filled with gaudy costume jewelry. ‘See there. It could have been bought from any place on Fourth Avenue.’ He walked to the door and opened it. ‘Come on,’ he said.

Coggins followed behind as Ben made his way into the store.

It was a cramped space, little more than a narrow hallway bordered on either side by two large glass display cases. A large woman sat on a stool between the cases. She seemed to pull back slightly as the two men entered, and her hands crawled into the large purse that rested on her lap.

‘What can I do for you gentlemans?’ she asked suspiciously.

Ben stepped back slightly and nodded toward Coggins.

Coggins took the cue and walked in front of him. ‘How you doing, sister?’ he asked with a bright smile.

The woman smiled at him with everything but her eyes.

Coggins sunk his hands in his pocket and shifted nervously for a moment before leaning awkwardly onto one of the display cases.

‘Careful there,’ the woman warned sternly. ‘They ain’t built that good.’

Coggins straightened himself immediately. He jerked his hands out of his pockets and folded his arms over his chest. ‘Actually, my uh, my friend and I are looking for something.’

The woman’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. ‘I don’t sell nothing but jewelry,’ she said.

Coggins laughed tensely. ‘Oh, well, that’s okay. It’s about jewelry.’

‘And I don’t takes no hot stuff, neither.’

‘Hot stuff?’ Coggins asked. ‘We haven’t stolen anything, sister.’

The woman’s hand moved within the carpetbag. ‘What you want, boy?’ she asked menacingly.

‘It’s about a ring,’ Ben said.

Her eyes shifted over to him.

‘We think it might have been bought in one of the stores around here,’ Coggins put in quickly, as if trying to regain the high ground. ‘Maybe even from you.’

‘Something wrong with this here ring?’ the woman asked bluntly.

‘Not with the ring, no,’ Coggins told her. ‘But maybe the guy who bought it.’

The woman watched him impatiently. ‘What’s this here ring look like?’

Ben moved to take the ring out of his breast pocket, saw the woman’s hand move again, then stopped. ‘It’s right here,’ he said. Then he slowly took it out and handed it to her.