suspicious.
For all her bad timing—I couldn’t blame her.
“Listen, lady,” I said. “I don’t know anything about all that. Lewis paid my daily nut to get down here to meet you and take you where he said to go. If you say no, that’s fine with me. I’ll just give you the information he gave me and you can make up your mind from there.”
I took one of two envelopes from my breast pocket and handed it to her. She hesitated a moment and then took the letter from me.
“There’s an address in the Garment District for a woman needs an assistant and another one for a rooming house in the east thirties. You don’t have to go to either one if you don’t want. It’s just my job to tell you about them.”
While she was looking at the information I continued: “Breland also said that he wanted you to call him and check in if you had any questions. He said that you already had his number.”
If anything, Zella was getting angrier. The fact that I could keep her attention worried her, made her feel that she was being trapped somehow.
“ Would you like me to wait until you’ve spoken to your lawyer?” I asked.
“No, I wouldn’t. What I’d like is for you to leave.”
“You know I’m really not trying to trick you, Miss Grisham.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re trying to do or what you want,” she said. “I’d send your ass away if you were a white man with a red ribbon tied around your dick.”
Sex. It’s the bottom line of human relations. Eight years in prison and it blends in with every emotion—hate, fear, loneliness.
“There’s one more thing,” I said.
“ What?” She hefted the strap of her rucksack and actually took a step away.
I took the second, thicker envelope from my pocket.
“He wanted me to give you this at the end of the day. I guess this is the end so . . .”
She was even more hesitant the second time. I stood there, holding the envelope toward her.
“There’s money in it,” I said. “Twenty-five hundred dollars. Just ask Breland if you think I stole any of it.”
Her fingers lanced forward and snagged the packet.
“ What’s it for?” she asked without looking inside.
“Like I said, lady, I’m just the errand boy, a private detective who’s taking any work he can get during the economic downturn.”
She had nothing to say about my rendition of current events so I took a business card from my wallet and handed it to her.
“I know you’re suspicious of me, Miss Grisham, but here’s my card anyway. If you should ever find that you need assistance, and I haven’t earned my day’s wages yet, call me and I’ll do what I can.”
Zella shoved the envelopes and card into her rucksack and moved toward the escalator. I stayed where I was while she rode up toward the main floor, looking back now and then to make sure I wasn’t following.
3
I WAS STANDING at the empty bus queue, listening to the young men rhyme. The man in the horn-rimmed glasses that had been questioning the ladies on the state of their toilet was now speaking to a very tall, older white man wearing blue overalls with a nametag declaring PETE over the left breast. Pete was leaning on a long-handled push broom.
“Not again, Pete,” the women’s toilet interlocutor said.
“No, Joe, it’s not like that,” the towering white man replied. “You know I do any work that they give me. It’s just that these idiots are tryin’ to make me the scapegoat for their mistakes.”
Joe said something but I didn’t hear it because I had slipped into what can only be called a reverie.
GERT LONGMAN was dark-skinned and heavy the way old-time movie stars used to be. Her mother’s parents had come from the Dominican Republic but she didn’t know from Hispaniola. Gert was born and raised on the island of Manhattan. With no accent, and no pretense to history, she had been my lover for six weeks before she found out about Katrina—my wife.
I hadn’t lied to
For all her bad timing—I couldn’t blame her.
“Listen, lady,” I said. “I don’t know anything about all that. Lewis paid my daily nut to get down here to meet you and take you where he said to go. If you say no, that’s fine with me. I’ll just give you the information he gave me and you can make up your mind from there.”
I took one of two envelopes from my breast pocket and handed it to her. She hesitated a moment and then took the letter from me.
“There’s an address in the Garment District for a woman needs an assistant and another one for a rooming house in the east thirties. You don’t have to go to either one if you don’t want. It’s just my job to tell you about them.”
While she was looking at the information I continued: “Breland also said that he wanted you to call him and check in if you had any questions. He said that you already had his number.”
If anything, Zella was getting angrier. The fact that I could keep her attention worried her, made her feel that she was being trapped somehow.
“ Would you like me to wait until you’ve spoken to your lawyer?” I asked.
“No, I wouldn’t. What I’d like is for you to leave.”
“You know I’m really not trying to trick you, Miss Grisham.”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re trying to do or what you want,” she said. “I’d send your ass away if you were a white man with a red ribbon tied around your dick.”
Sex. It’s the bottom line of human relations. Eight years in prison and it blends in with every emotion—hate, fear, loneliness.
“There’s one more thing,” I said.
“ What?” She hefted the strap of her rucksack and actually took a step away.
I took the second, thicker envelope from my pocket.
“He wanted me to give you this at the end of the day. I guess this is the end so . . .”
She was even more hesitant the second time. I stood there, holding the envelope toward her.
“There’s money in it,” I said. “Twenty-five hundred dollars. Just ask Breland if you think I stole any of it.”
Her fingers lanced forward and snagged the packet.
“ What’s it for?” she asked without looking inside.
“Like I said, lady, I’m just the errand boy, a private detective who’s taking any work he can get during the economic downturn.”
She had nothing to say about my rendition of current events so I took a business card from my wallet and handed it to her.
“I know you’re suspicious of me, Miss Grisham, but here’s my card anyway. If you should ever find that you need assistance, and I haven’t earned my day’s wages yet, call me and I’ll do what I can.”
Zella shoved the envelopes and card into her rucksack and moved toward the escalator. I stayed where I was while she rode up toward the main floor, looking back now and then to make sure I wasn’t following.
3
I WAS STANDING at the empty bus queue, listening to the young men rhyme. The man in the horn-rimmed glasses that had been questioning the ladies on the state of their toilet was now speaking to a very tall, older white man wearing blue overalls with a nametag declaring PETE over the left breast. Pete was leaning on a long-handled push broom.
“Not again, Pete,” the women’s toilet interlocutor said.
“No, Joe, it’s not like that,” the towering white man replied. “You know I do any work that they give me. It’s just that these idiots are tryin’ to make me the scapegoat for their mistakes.”
Joe said something but I didn’t hear it because I had slipped into what can only be called a reverie.
GERT LONGMAN was dark-skinned and heavy the way old-time movie stars used to be. Her mother’s parents had come from the Dominican Republic but she didn’t know from Hispaniola. Gert was born and raised on the island of Manhattan. With no accent, and no pretense to history, she had been my lover for six weeks before she found out about Katrina—my wife.
I hadn’t lied to
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