t e r r a n c e t i p p i t o e
was a small, dark-colored man who
had small eyes that had witnessed fifty or more years of hard times. He had told Jackson to meet him at a bus stop on Sunset at three-oh-five. We were there waiting. Jackson made the introductions (my name was John Jefferson and his was George 2 9 1
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Paine). I set out what I needed. For his participation I’d give him two hundred dollars.
Terrance was pulling down a dollar thirty-five an hour at that time and since I hadn’t asked him to kill anyone he nodded and grinned and said, “Yes sir, Mr. Jefferson. I’m your man.”
A time was made for Jackson to meet Terrance a few hours later.
Before Jackson and I separated back in Santa Monica, he agreed to lend me the two hundred.
The world was a different place that afternoon.
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45
Iwent back to the hospital and got directions at the main desk to Bobby Lee’s new room. Sitting in a chair beside Lee’s door was an ugly white man with eyebrows, lips, and nose all at least three times too big for his doughy face. Even seated he was a big man. And despite his bulky woolen overcoat I could appreciate the strength of his limbs.
As I approached the door the Neanderthal sat up. His move-ments were graceful and fluid, as if he were some behemoth rising from a primordial swamp.
“Howdy,” I said in the friendly manner that many Texas hicks used. I didn’t want to fight this man at any time, for any reason.
He just looked at me.
“Easy Rawlins to see Robert E. Lee,” I said.
“Right this way,” the brute replied in a melodious baritone. He rose from the chair like Nemo’s Nautilus rising from the depths.
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Opening the door he gestured for me to go through. He tagged along behind — an elephant following his brother’s tail.
Lee was sitting up in the bed wearing a nightshirt that wasn’t hospital issue. It had white-on-white brocade along the buttons and a stylish collar. Seated next to him was Maya Adamant. She wore tight-fitting coral pants and a red silk blouse. Her hair was tied back and her visage was nothing if not triumphant.
They were holding hands.
“You two kiss and make up after the little tiff and trifling attempt at murder?”
I felt the presence of the bodyguard behind me. But what did I care? It was gospel I spoke.
“I told Robert everything,” Maya said. “I have no secrets from him.”
“And you believe her?” I asked Lee.
“Yes. I’ve realized a lot of things being so close to death. Lying here I’ve come to understand that my life has had no meaning for me. I mean, I’ve done a lot of important things for others. I’ve solved crimes and saved lives, but you know if someone is on a path to hell you can’t save them.”
His mouth was still under the sway of the drugs they’d given him but I perceived a clear mind underneath the weave of me-andering thoughts.
“She sent Joe Cicero to our meeting,” I said. “Then Joe emptied a clip into your chest. He almost killed you.”
“She didn’t know that he’d do that. Her only desire was to get the bonds. She’s a woman without a man. She has to look out for herself.”
“Wasn’t it your job to get the bonds and give them to Haffernon?”
“He only wanted the letter.”
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Those five words proved to me that Lee’s mind was running on all six cylinders. If I had become used to the idea of that letter, then I might not have noticed him slipping it in there.
“What letter?” I asked.
Lee studied my face.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said. “Haffernon is dead. I’ve received notice.”
It was my turn to stare.
“The only problem now is Joe Cicero,” Lee said. “And Carl here is working on that problem.”
“Cicero can’t be in this alone,” I said. “He has to be working for someone. And that someone can always find another Chickpea.”
Lee smiled.
“I must apologize to you, Mr. Rawlins. When you first walked into my offices I believed that you were just a brash fool intent on pulling the wool over my eyes; that you only desired to make me do your bidding because I was a white man in a big house.
But now I see the subtlety of your mind. You’re a top-notch thinker, and more than that — you’re a man.”
I can’t say that the accolades didn’t tweak my vanity, but I knew that Lee was both devious and a fool, and that was a bad combination to be swayed by.
“Can I speak to you alone?” I asked the detective.
He considered a moment and then nodded.
“Carl, Maya,” he said in dismissal.
“Boss . . .” Big Carl complained.
“It’s okay. Mr. Rawlins isn’t a bad man. Are you, Easy?”
“Depends on who you’re askin’.”
“Go on you two,” Lee said. “I’ll be fine.”
Maya gave me a worried look as she went out. That was more of a compliment than all her boss’s words.
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After the door was shut I asked, “Are you stupid or do you just not care that that woman sent an assassin after you?”
“She didn’t know what he intended.”
“How can you be sure of that? I mean you act like you can read minds, but you and I both know that there ain’t no way you can predict a woman like that.”
“I can see that some woman has gotten under your skin,” he said, leveling his eyes like cannon.
That threw me, made me realize that Bonnie was on my mind when I was talking about Maya. I could even see the similarities between the two women.
“This is not about my personal life, Mr. Lee. It’s about Joe Cicero and your assistant sending him after you, after me. Now you and I both know that he’d have taken the same shots at me if I’d gone through that door first. And I don’t have no bulletproof vest.”
“If what you told me is correct he needed you to gather information.”
“Then he’d have grabbed me, tortured me.”
“But that did not happen. You’re alive and now Joe Cicero will be under the gun. I shot him you know.”
“How bad?” I asked.
“It’s hard to say. He jerked backward and fired again. I let off another shell but he was running by then.”
“Can’t say that he’s dead. Can’t be sure. And even if you could, and even if Carl gets him or the police or anybody else —
that still doesn’t account for who’s doing all this.”
“The case is over, Mr. Rawlins. Haffernon is dead.”
“You see?” I said. “You see? That’s where you’re wrong. You think life is like one’a those Civil War enactments you got up in your house. People gettin’ killed here, Bobby Lee. Killed. And 2 9 6
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they’re dyin’ ’cause’a what Haffernon hired you for. They’re not gonna stop dyin’ just because you call the game over.”
I have to say that Lee seemed to be listening. There was no argument on his lips, no dismissal in his demeanor.
“Maybe you’re right, Mr. Rawlins. But what do you want me to do?”
“Maybe you could work the Cicero-Maya connection. Maybe she could pretend that she still wants to work with him. Somehow we get on him and he leads us to his source.”
“No.”
“No? How can you just say no? We could at least ask her if it makes sense. Shit, man, this is serious business here.”
“It’s too dangerous.”
“What’s dangerous is tellin’ a hit man where your boss is goin’
and not lettin’ your boss in on the change of plan. What’s dangerous is walkin’ out of a bar and havin’ some man you never met open fire on your ass.”
“I can’t put Maya in danger.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re to be married.”
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