Blood and Rain Page 6

  "Don't you get in trouble tonight," Rosa told me as I was leaving.

  "I won't Momma Rosa," I said.

  "If I was your Momma I'd spank you," she said with a smile and closed the door.

  * * *

  I was hungry as hell and Ben Lee's Chinese House was about three blocks away. So I drove over there. The dream I'd had about Kira was still at the edge of my consciousness. It was a dream that I had over and over again. The problem wasn't that I had nightmares. Hell, most people have an occasional nightmare. It's no big deal. They fade away because we know the monsters in those dreams aren't real.

  My problem was that most of these nightmares are memories. Kira did beg me over and over again to quit dealing because she was addicted to my drugs. And I had lied to her over and over again telling her I would quit dealing. Kira died while we were making love. Her heart just seized up. Near pure cocaine does that to some people.

  The part of the dream that never happened, Kira coming out of the ground to grab me and drag me down with her, is a wish fulfillment thing, I think. I know it's what I deserve, but it never happens in the real world. So I make myself pay in my dreams.

  Ben Lee's Chinese House was, from the outside, like most businesses in this part of East St. Louis, very uninviting. With the crime rate around here you couldn't help it. Steel wire mesh over the windows and steel security doors were necessary here for a business's survival.

  But once you came through the front door it was a different story. Beautiful paintings of mountain scenes done in an oriental style covered the walls. Soft lighting and soft oriental music created an atmosphere that was romantic, relaxing, and exotic.

  Lots of guys from the neighborhood brought dates here to loosen them up so they could forget about the world outside and maybe get some good loving later in the night. I came here because the food was great.

  I went in and sat at a table and a pretty oriental woman in a traditional oriental dress came out to greet me. Her skin was darker than Ben Lee's. Ben Lee was Chinese but grew up in East St. Louis. She was slender and small and had a voice so soft it sounded like she was whispering.

  "Hello," she said. "I am Me Ly. I will be your waitress." She placed a menu on the table with a smile that could only be described as humble.

  "You Lay?" I asked.

  She looked at me perplexed, "I don't understand."

  "Your name," I said, "You Lay."

  She laughed nervously, "Oh no, no," she said. "Me Ly, I from Korea, speak English not so good."

  "Oh," I said glancing at the menu and before she had a chance to walk away I said, "Do you like Chinese food?"

  "Well," Me Ly said, "I Korean, but I like Chinese food."

  "Do you like Cream of Some Young Guy?" I ask Me Ly.

  Again she gets that perplexed look on her face. "I might," Me Ly says pleasantly, "I not know what it is but I might like it."

  "Well, go tell Ben Lee to whip you up some Cream of Some Young Guy and you can find out if you like it."

  "Yes, I will," she said and walks toward the kitchen door that was only about twenty feet from where I sat. Me Ly went through the kitchen door. I hear some talking then some laughter.

  About a minute later, Ben Lee comes out of the kitchen and sits down at my table.

  "You're a mean guy," he tells me in a voice with no trace of an oriental accent and laughs.

  "Just having some fun," I tell him and we shake hands.

  Me Ly came out of the kitchen carrying a platter of food. As she passed our table, she gave me a look that was designed to make my hair burst into flame.

  Ben looked at me and I looked at Ben. We both said, "Woo," simultaneously.

  "She really likes you," Ben said laughing.

  "Yeah, I can tell," I answered.

  Ben stood up and slapped me on the shoulder, "Gotta get back to work," he said. "I had them put on some beef curry and chicken fried rice for ya. I know you like that."

  "So now I don't even get to order here," I said jokingly.

  "Nope," Ben Lee said, "You want my long dong, but that ain't on the menu."

  "Right," I said, "I deserved that one."

  "You do," he said and went through the kitchen door.

  A few minutes later Me Ly came with my food. The smell was incredibly intoxicating. The aroma of good curry can open up your sinuses like nothing else on earth.

  "I am sorry I upset you," I told Me Ly as she was putting down my food, "I was only joking with you."

  "That is OK," Me Ly said with a perfectly serene face. "I can get, how do you say it, a… accustomed to you. A dog can get accustomed to his fleas and so, I can get accustomed to you." Then she turned to walk to the kitchen.

  "I'd like to be your flea," I said just barely loud enough for her to hear and she glanced over her shoulder and smiled.

  I drank a Tsingtao with my beef curry and chicken fried rice. The beer was cold and smooth and good. The taste of the food was incredible. While I ate and drank, I was in heaven.

  When I was almost finished with my meal, I took out the photo of Felicia playing chess. I looked at it for a while and thought about what she had written in her diary. I knew where I had to go next.

  I put Felicia's photo away and finished my meal. I took my last swallow of Tsingtao, good stuff, and stood up.

  Me Ly came out of the kitchen heading for another part of the restaurant. Our eyes met. She smiled shyly. Damn she looked sweet. I left her a large tip.

  Yeah, I said to myself, as I walked to the door and watched Me Ly's butt as she walked to a customer's table, I sure would like to have slop chewy tonight.

  Then I walked through the door and out into the street.

  CHAPTER 14

  SCHOOL DAYS

  It wasn't raining yet today but the clouds were heavy and the sky looked like it was ready to start crying at any moment. I drove over to Felicia’s high school, South Central, and went to the reception desk.

  The receptionist was a young bright eyed black woman in her late twenties or early thirties. She looked like the type who would be the perfect straight laced librarian who would forever be sneaking into the adult section to peek at the forbidden knowledge. I bet I could teach her a few things she'd never learn from the textbooks in this school.

  She smiled at me and came over to where I leaned on the counter. “May I help you in any way?” she asked.

  I knew how she could help me, but instead I said, “I need to talk to the guy who organizes this school's chess club.”

  “Well, that would be Coach Wilson,” she said and smiled again. She had one of those big African mouths with big African lips. I knew what that mouth was made for.

  She looked at her watch and said, “He's between classes right now. I'll just buzz him on the PA.”

  “Tell him I'm here about Felicia Richardson,” I told the receptionist.

  A minute or two later, she told me Coach Wilson would meet me in the hall just outside the reception office.

  She smiled at me again with that big mouth and the flash of white told me she had some big teeth to go along with those big lips. She'd have to be careful with those choppers or she'd have some Romeo crying for mercy.

  In less than five minutes the coach showed up.

  The coach looked like he was an ex-football player. Donald Wilson was about six foot three and he carried somewhere around two hundred and forty solid pounds and, he was white. The very fact that he was a white gym coach in a nearly all black school told me that this guy had to be one tough dog.

  The coach gave my hand a strong shake and asked me what he could do for me.

  “Do you remember a student you have on your chess team, Felicia Richardson?”

  He nodded yes.

  “I've been hired to try to locate her,” I said. “The chess club seems to be a large part of her life and I was wondering if you'd seen anyone around her recently who you'd never seen before.”

  “You mean like someone who just doesn't seem to belong on the ch
ess tournament scene,” he asked.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I believe she was kidnapped and I'm looking for someone I believe was following her. But I have no name and no real description as of yet.”

  The coach rubbed his chin. He looked at the floor and forward while thinking. After a few moments he said, “I do try to pick up on people who hang around the kids and who don't seem to have much interest in competitive chess. The problem is that these chess tournaments are open to the public, so anyone can walk in and we do have a lot of people who show up just to watch what's going on.”

  “Did you notice anyone,” I asked, “Who seemed to be watching Felicia in particular?”

  “This is strange,” Coach Wilson said. “Like I just said, I try to pick up on guys who hang around the kids and there was this one guy who I noticed was coming to tournaments a lot. Whether he was watching Felicia in particular, I'm not sure. But it seemed like every time I went to go ask him who he was, he would be gone. It was weird, almost like he would vanish right in front of me. So I never got a chance to ask him who he was.”

  “Do you remember what he looked like,” I asked.

  “Well, let's see,” the coach said. “Judging him against my own size, which is the only way I can do it, and taking into consideration that I never got very close to him, I may be off some. Well, I have to say he was around six one or six two.”

  “His build?” I asked.

  “Well, he was slim. I'd have to guess he weighs around two hundred pounds. Another thing, this guy always had on a nice black three-piece suit. That might have been why I noticed him. People are usually casual around these events.”

  “His skin color?” I asked.

  “This guy was black,” the coach said. “I mean really black, like charcoal.”

  I nodded. “Is there anything else you could tell me about this guy that made him stand out?”

  “Well,” the coach said. “That's the thing. He didn't stand out. I'm having to really search the bottom of my memory to give you what little I did. It's like I'm trying to remember a ghost. I just can't get a clear picture of what he looked like in my mind. I wish I could help you more.”

  “You've given me more than I had,” I told him.

  We shook hands again. A good firm handshake. Then Coach Wilson said, “I hope you find Felicia. She's a good kid. This was my first job teaching after I ruined my knees on a minor league baseball team. I only planned on staying here about two years until I could go to a better district. Kids like Felicia are the reason I'm still here after fifteen years. She has the kind of brains that she can be anything she'd want to be. But kids like her need good teachers to push them in the right direction.”

  “I'm sure you do that,” I said.

  “I try,” he answered.

  “And I'll try to get Felicia back home,” I told him.

  * * *

  From the school, I walked to a corner 7-11 store and bought a small pad of paper and a pen. I figured it was about time I started keeping notes since my memory doesn't seem to be worth shit anymore. I might run across some information that, put with some other stuff, would tell me who this guy was who was following Felicia. But I knew if I don't write it down and try to remember it later, it will be gone like the wind.

  In the car, I wrote down the description the coach had given me.

  Black, real black like charcoal.

  That matched Felicia’s description.

  The coach said he always had on a nice black three piece suit. Felicia said he dresses rich. On these two points, they match, so I figure it's the same guy.

  OK! I'll put the coaches and Felicia’s descriptions together.

  I got: Coal black skin, penetrating eyes, dresses in suits, around thirty years old; around six feet one or six feet two, slim built around two hundred pounds.

  Damn, I never even asked the coach what the guy's hair was like. But I guess I'd have to assume it was nothing unusual or else he would have noticed.

  My description was real skimpy but at least it was better than nothing. Not much but a little better.

  CHAPTER 15

  THE PAST NEVER FORGETS

  Back at my apartment, I turn the TV on. I turn it off. Not sure what I want to do. I want to dig up some facts to try and track down this guy but fuck, the truth is I ain’t trained for this shit.

  What the fuck, do I look like Nancy Drew? It pisses me off.

  I feel like punching the wall. But hell, I'd just have to hang another picture to cover the hole. I got too many damn pictures on the wall as it is.

  A knock on the door interrupts my self-ass whipping.

  I answer the door and Julia is standing there in her hospital whites. She looks like a Hershey Chocolate Bar. Tasty, chewy, and juicy.

  Damn, I think to myself, I'm getting as bad as Johnny. If I don't get fucked soon, fucking is going to be the only thing on my mind.

  Without a word, I let Julia into the apartment.

  “I just came by,” she said. “To see if you'd learned anything from Felicia’s diary.”

  “Well,” I said, and walked over and picked up the diary, then gave it to Julia. “Felicia knew someone was following her.”

  “Who?” Julia asked.

  “I don't have a name yet,” I answered. “But I got some kind of idea as to what he looks like. Let's see if this rings a bell. He's around six foot one or two, around two hundred pounds, dresses real well, like in suits, and he's got real dark black skin like charcoal. You know anybody like this?” I ask.

  “The truth is,” Julia says. “The only men I know are the ones I work around. Doctors, orderlies, people like that, but I can't think of anybody who looks like what you said.”

  “Are you sure?” I ask her again.

  “What,” Julia says her voice rising. “Do you think for one minute if I thought I had any idea who had my little baby I'd hold that back. That's my baby,” Julia almost screamed. “She's out there somewhere and I don't know what's being done to her. I want her home.”

  Tears almost came, but Julia fought them back.

  I walked to the icebox and looked in. My supply was almost gone. I had to make a run to the liquor store soon.

  This time I fish out a pint of Johnnie Walker Black Label whiskey. Take a drink of it and walk back to Julia.

  I offer her a drink. She shakes her head no.

  Julia sits on my couch. I sit beside her.

  Quietly Julia says, “I need Felicia home. She's all that I've got.”

  I take a drink and listen.

  “When Felicia’s daddy was with me, I wasn't nothing but just one of those drugged out hoes that hang out on the streets all night. All we did was stay stoned all the time. Leroy, that was Felicia’s daddy's name, Leroy Jones, used to rent me out to anybody who'd pay. When I got pregnant, he told me to get an abortion but I wouldn't do it. So about a month before Felicia was born, he left. I never knew where he went. I got locked up about a week after Felicia was born for marijuana possession. They took her away from me. It took me three years to get out of jail and get Felicia back.

  “They only let me have her back because I got myself together and went through a nursing program. I proved I could handle being a good mother. Ever since then, it's only been me and Felicia. She's the reason I keep working and trying. I don't know what I'd do if I knew she was gone forever. I don't know if I'd even want to live,” Julia whispered.

  I totally understood how she felt. For a long time now I hadn't cared whether I lived or died. But my heart kept on beating anyway.

  “You know,” Julia said. “About five years ago, Leroy called me. Talking some shit about how he's the chosen one and how he wanted to see me and his baby. I told him he could go fuck himself. I didn't need him. Getting screwed over once by him was enough.”

  “That's the right attitude,” I told Julia.

  “It's the only one,” she answered.

  We sat on the couch in silence for a while. The silence was heavy with revealed secret
s.

  I picked up my pint bottle of Johnnie Walker. I took a long drink. I offered Julia a drink. She shook her head no again.

  “You know,” she said. “You could be a pretty nice guy. But why do you drink so much?”

  I took another drink. Julia looked in my eyes. “You know,” I say. “There are some things that are none of your fucking business.”

  “Well, I can accept that,” Julia replied.

  “You'll have to,” I told her. “Nothing personal.”

  She stands up. “That's all right,” she says.

  “I'm going to keep working on this,” I told Julia. “I'm going to get Felicia home to you.”

  I stand up and Julia looks in my eyes again, “I think you will,” she says. “Or at least, I have to believe you will.”

  “I'm going to,” I said as Julia was leaving.

  It was as much a promise to myself as it was to her.

  She opened the door and stepped out.

  “Julia!” I called to her.

  She stopped and looked back at me. Our eyes met.

  I said, “There are some things I can't talk about.”

  “I understand,” she said. “But if you ever need a good ear, come find me.” Then she walked away.

  Watching her walk down the hall I said to myself, “I just might.” But the part of her I was watching walk was a bit lower than her ears.

  I don't know why, but I felt real tense. Like there was some kind of electricity in the air and something crazy was just getting ready to let loose. So I went to the closet and got out a box of Thirty-Eight shells and loaded up my inside jacket pocket with about thirty of them.

  Whatever was out there tonight, I was going to be ready.

  CHAPTER 16

  THE JAMAICAN BOY SCOUTS

  At Johnny's I sit and brood over my Budweiser. Just trying to figure out what to do next to try and find this guy.

  I'm not really paying attention to Johnny or the TV and we're the only two people in the bar.

  “Dead assed day,” Johnny says. “Not a goddamned person in here all day except for some damn drunk wandered in wantin me to give him a free beer. I told him I ain’t your daddy and if I was I'd beat your ass for being a drunk.”