Violet placed her head under the water, hearing the pipes complaining as the building’s hot water heater strained — and failed — to produce a truly warm spray of water. “What do you think is the right thing, Abby?”
“The Damned Thing… it needs to be destroyed.” Abby took an audibly deep breath. “I thought to sell it but that’s too dangerous. I’d just end up as dead as poor Sidney.”
“Sidney’s not dead yet,” Violet said with a disbelieving shake of the head. The girl had already moved on to the point where she’d virtually put her lover into the ground.
“You know what I mean. I just… I want to live and have all the things any girl wants. Pretty dresses and a nice house, a man who dotes on me.”
Violet turned off the water and stepped out, grabbing a nearby towel. She turned her back on Abby, feeling the girl’s eyes on her backside. “Look, Abby, I think it’s probably best if you go ahead and leave. I’ve always believed it’s best to keep your enemies close but…”
Abby lunged for Violet, driving her into the wall. Violet’s forehead smacked against the wall and for a moment everything went blurry and then black. She felt her hair being yanked and allowed herself to be tugged back. Abby then drove a rather pitiful excuse for a punch against the side of Violet’s face.
“You bitch,” Abby was hissing. “You should have counted yourself lucky to have me throw myself at you. Do you have any idea how many men — and women — would throw money at me hoping to see me like that?”
Violet swung out a fist that caught Abby in the stomach. The younger woman gasped, loosening her grip on Violet’s hair. “You’re not a fighter, honey. So you really shouldn’t go starting fights.”
Violet delivered a powerful roundhouse that spun Abby around. The girl teetered on her feet and finally toppled over when Violet raised a foot and drove it hard against her hip. Abby landed on the tile floor of the bathroom, blood dripping from a split lip and what promised to be a nasty shiner already beginning to form on her left eye.
Picking up her towel again, Violet finished drying herself off. She got dressed slowly, ignoring the unconscious woman on the floor. When she had finished making herself up, she walked to the phone and dialed Will McKenzie’s number. He seemed relieved to hear from her.
“Will, could send an officer or two over to my place? That Whitehead girl I told you about… she just attacked me and I had to put her in her place. I’m willing to press charges if you’ll get her up off my floor.”
“I’ll come over myself with a couple of guys. Listen, Violet, I think maybe you should come stay with me for a few days.”
“Why?”
“Sidney Morehouse was found murdered this morning. Same as with Miles… his face was sliced off while he was still alive.”
Violet pursed her lips. The Followers of the Eclipse were busy fellows. But why were they committing these murders at all? If all they wanted was The Damned Thing, why continue killing people who’d had dealings with it? Why not go ahead and do their little magic spell and be done with it?
“Violet? You there?”
“Yes. Sorry, I was just thinking. Listen, I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Will, but I have some things I have to do this afternoon. I can’t go into hiding.”
“People have already tried to kill you,” Will said, sounding a bit stressed. “I’ve got men looking into the things you’ve told me but if you’re holding back, I need to know.”
“If I knew anything else, I’d tell you.”
“Would you? Or would you just think you were protecting me so I didn’t get killed like Walter and Miles?”
Violet’s lips twitched. “I’m going to truss up Miss Whitehead and leave her outside my door. Hurry over before she wakes up and starts screaming.”
“You’re going to be there, right?”
“Goodbye, Will.”
Violet hung up and moved to quickly fulfill her promise. She hogtied Abby, making sure to keep the knots nice and tight. Anyone who’d spent as much time in bondage as Abby had was bound to know how to slip out of such things. After dragging the girl into the hallway, Violet grabbed her purse, making sure it was well stocked with her gun, some ammunition, a pack of cigarettes, lighter and a few feminine products such as lipstick, perfume and a dagger small enough to fit in the top of her garter.
A few moments later, she was stepping out onto the busy Atlanta streets. Burkard was supposed to be coming by in a few hours but she had plans before that… and if it worked out, she wouldn’t need Burkard’s help at all. Given how Abby had turned against her, she was anxious to find The Damned Thing on her own. It would be nice to not have to watch her back…
Chapter VII
Toby Washington was a 65-year old Negro with a painful left knee that left him hobbling around the street corner where he worked. He’d shined the shoes of white men since he’d turned eight years old but because of his knee, he’d been forced to bring on an apprentice. The boy, a skinny thing named Kenny, was a good-for-nothing ten year old who was more interested in baseball and pulp magazines than he was in earning an honest dollar.
Toby watched Kenny sitting with his back against the brick exterior of a restaurant, his eyes glued to the words of a Shadow pulp magazine. Several men walked by and the boy never noticed them, let alone offered to shine their shoes.
Toby hobbled over and smacked Kenny on the side of the head. Ignoring the boy’s cry of alarm, Toby leaned into him. “Let me explain this agin’ to you. You don’t make money unless I make money. And I don’t make no money unless you get off yo’ lazy ass and start shinin’ shoes.”
“Yessir.” Kenny rolled up his pulp magazine and stuck it in the back of his pants, causing them to sag a bit. He stood up and started harassing people as they attempted to walk past.
Toby was wondering about the wisdom of taking Kenny on as his assistant when a sultry female voice brought a smile to his wrinkled face.
“Hello, handsome. Mind if a girl sits for a spell?”
Toby turned around and grinned at Violet Cambridge, gallantly offering a seat in the shoeshine chair. “If you’d do me the honor,” he said.
Violet sat down and immediately lowered her voice. “I need some help.”
“Don’t ya always?”
“I’m serious.”
Toby became grave. “I know you is. I heard about Mr. Knopf. Damn shame. He was a nice man and he always tipped real nice. This about who killed him?”
“It is. Members of a group called The Followers of the Eclipse killed him. I know the general area they hang out in but I need to know specifics. Which building are they in? How often do they come and go? How many of them are there?”
Toby looked around to make sure no one was eavesdropping. “You talkin’ about those quiet boys with the mark on them? The sun being swallowed up by the dark?”
“That’s them. I love how you always know what I’m talking about. I could have saved a lot of time by coming straight to you.”
“Den why didn’t you?”
Violet looked away and her eyes moistened a bit. “Because people are dying all around me. You’re not just an informer, Toby. You’re a friend. I’ve met your wife and your kids. Hell, I’ve had your granddaughter sit on my knee. This is bad stuff. You could get killed if you get mixed up in it.”
“But you’se heah now,” he pointed out.
“Yeah. I’m here now.”
Toby digested all this and then knelt in front of her with a painful grunt. He lifted up her left foot, encased in its high-heeled shoe. He began to prepare it for polishing, using this as an excuse for their conversing. Even in this day and age, so long after the end of slavery, a white woman and a black man had to be careful about being too familiar in public. American society in general — and especially Southern society — was a long way away from being comfortable with a true breakdown of racial divisions. “I’ve seen those boys,” Toby said at last. “Dey don’t talk much. Just walk around and get into unmarked cars. No plates or nothin’ on them. I tried to get one of ‘em to let me shine his shoes and he just gave me a look that woulda scared the white off rice.”