A Red Death: Featuring an Original Easy Rawlins Short Story "Si (Easy Rawlins Mysteries) Read Online Free PDF Page A

was for me at that moment. I saw the woman, read the lines on her face, deciphered the obvious anger in her tone, and decided that she wasn’t mad at me but at those filthy, uncouth MacDonalds. She was also, I surmised in a fraction of a second, a first-degree busybody who had more information on the kidnappers than the police could gather in seven years.
    “Yes I am,” I replied.
    “What they do to you?”
    “Stoled my car,” I said in good old Fifth Ward lingo.
    “Bastids,” she spat. “Make the whole neighborhood a pigsty. Noisy and vulgar, I hate ’em.”
    “The man who stoled my ride was with this girl,” I said, showing the angry old woman my photograph of Misty.
    “I seen her. Yeah. She was wit’ some guest’a theirs. A man drove a old red truck. It had Texas plates on it.”
    “That’s the guy took my car. He asked me could he borrow it. Left me a suitcase to hold. All it had was some underwear and that picture of the girl drove off with him.”
    “You wanna use my phone to call the cops?” the woman asked.
    “I sure do. But first I wanna wait here and make sure he’s in there. ’Cause if I call and he ain’t there, that old bitch Clovis’ll just say they never heard of him.”
    “You got her ticket, brother,” the old woman agreed. “I’m right over there in the white-and-green house. You need somethin’ you just come over to me.”
    “I’ll be there,” I said. “Just as soon as that man show up. He come here much?”
    “Almost every day. In the mornin’ too. You probably don’t have long to wait.”
    With that the old lady left for her home. I was sure that she’d be watching but that was all right. If I fell asleep again she’d rouse me to the mysterious Texan’s arrival.
    H E GOT THERE AT ABOUT EIGHT. The truck was an interesting combination of dull red paint and brown rust, like lichen rolling over a scarlet stone. The black man at the wheel was large with muscle, about thirty. He wore overalls and a T-shirt. I wondered if there was a straw hat on the seat next to him. He drove right up on the lawn and ran to the front door. Antoinette, the prettiest MacDonald next to JJ, ran out to meet him. Antoinette was a healthy girl. Even under her loose one-piece dress you could see her large upstanding breasts. They hugged and kissed, and kissed again. Clovis came out then, talking in a loud voice, though not loud enough for me to make out the words.
    Antoinette stood back, seemingly afraid of what was being said. The big Texan was nodding at every word, listening hard. When she was finished he asked something and Clovis yelled something back. The Texan jumped into his truck and took off. I waited a second and followed him.
    Clovis and Antoinette didn’t seem to notice me.
    T HE T EXAN LED ME on a long drive through L.A. He took side streets, always headed south. We went down into Compton. We were still in L.A. county, but the houses became sparse and the street was barely covered by asphalt. I had dropped almost two blocks behind the Texas truck because there was hardly any traffic. When I saw the red pickup turn right up ahead, I increased my speed to make sure I didn’t lose him.
    I turned the corner just in time to see the truck park in thedriveway of a small blue house. I went all the way to the end of the block, turned the corner, and pulled to the curb.
    My heart was racing but not from fear. I was excited by my proximity to the solution of JJ’s dilemma.
    Sitting in the car I wondered how to get past the cowboy’s defenses. I needed a distraction.
    My first thought was to set the house on fire. There had recently been a fire at Truth. Everyone always runs out to the curb when threatened by flame and smoke. But maybe, if Misty was a hostage in the house—tied up and gagged—maybe the kidnapper would leave her in there rather than be implicated in the capital crime of kidnapping.
    Two women in pink and blue dresses were making their way down the street. The one in blue