Cecil fought the handle-bars by us and out to the trailer. Victor was there, smoking one of his cigarettes. He frowned at Cecil, his hair all stuck up in back. He looked like he’d been sleeping in his clothes. The Cadillac was gone. Jimmy The Diamond and Zeek had taken it up to Detroit with them after dropping Victor off in front of the house before supper last night. Victor tried to let on like it didn’t bother him, but you could tell it did.
“Armstrong needed it back, that’s all,” Victor said. “Hell. It was just a loaner anyway.”
Cecil gave Victor a letter he had to sign for, hopped back on the bicycle and waggled off. Victor ripped open the envelope, slid the letter out and began to read. His face fell in around his eyes as he did. When he finished he looked around at the trailer, then out at the barn, then where Willis and me stood. He looked up at Old Man Harlan’s place. He folded the letter, stuffed it in his pocket and threw his lit cigarette over the fence. He walked past me and Willis as though we were invisible, crossed the road and went up to Old Man Harlan’s store. He tried the door, but it wouldn’t open. He cupped his hands and looked through the window. He rapped on the RC cola sign so loud it made me and Willis both jump.
Most times the store would be locked, even in the daytime. Daddy and me used to go up to the house to get Old Man Harlan or Bird one to come down and open. I was thinking Victor would have to do the same when Old Man Harlan’s scarecrow face jumped up in the window, veined beak nose, eye sockets thrown open like in a surprise. When he saw Victor, he smiled his sad crooked smile and opened the door.
Later that afternoon, me, Willis, Vern and Fable went down to the swimming hole. Fable and me and Vern sat on the tree branch that got struck by lightning. Vern and me sat on the good side of the break, closer to the main part of the tree. Fable had edged way out on the bad side, his feet dangling off in the water.
Granny’s butcher knife stuck out my belt, inside the sock lined with paper. The pouch with the Rain Skull hung around my neck. We had been out in the field next to Kingdom Church trying to melt clouds. We had taken turns with the Rain Skull. I tried to do like Granpaw said. I tried to love the clouds. I tried to send warm rays up to the clouds, to think of the people I loved, but it didn’t work. It didn’t work for Vern. It didn’t work for Fable. It didn’t even work for Willis. We’d come down to the swimming hole to cool off.
Willis sat on the creek bank, telling the story again about me and the knife and the blue light, what all happened that day with the white boys. “Dat knife ga-ga-glow just like da tree,” Willis said. “And dem boys, dey all run away. Say Orbie a witch.”
“You done tole dat fib a thousand time boy,” Fable said.
“He’s telling the truth.” I picked off a twig from the tree branch and threw it in the water. “Can I tell Fable and Vern about Moses, Willis?”
“Don’t care,” Willis said.
“You won’t get in no trouble?”
“Na uh. Don’t tell Miss Alma dough. She be mad.”
“Ya’ll keep a secret?” I said to Fable and Vern.
Vern looked at Willis and crossed his heart. “I won’t tell nobody Willis.”
“I won’t neither,” Fable said.
“I don’t care,” Willis said. “Ain’t no secret, no way. Not like da one I got on ya’ll.”
“What?” Fable said.
“Miss Alma’s jam.”
“That wasn’t us,” Vern said.
“I seen ya’ll take it.”
“Nobody’s going to tell on nobody,” I said. “Ya’ll want to hear this or not?”
They all nodded their heads that they did.
I started by telling them about the dream. I told them how I wasn’t sure Victor killed Daddy, and how I had to find out, and that was why I went up to see Moses. Then I told them all about the pool, about the woman and the little boy.
“You say dat little boy, Victa?” Fable asked.
“Yeah, Fable. I thought Moses was going to help me. I thought he could see things. Like Superman.”
“Supaman?” Fable said.
“Yeah, you know, like in comic books and on TV. You know about Superman, don’t you?”
“I does,” Willis grinned. “In dem comic book. He see through things.”
“What you talkin’ ‘bout?” Fable said.
“X-rays,” I said. “That’s how he sees through things. Like walls. That’s how he knows things.”
“Jesus know things,” Vern said.
“Jesus don’t know shit.” I broke off another twig and threw it in the water. “Armstrong’s men took Victor’s Cadillac away.”
Willis nodded.
“I seen’em before,” I said. “In Detroit. They said they were from the Union. They lied.”
“Why dey lie?” Fable said.
“I don’t know. It was something about money. They wanted Daddy to keep his eye on it.” I grabbed out a wrinkled envelope from my butt-pocket and showed it around. I was excited again but I wasn’t sure why. “I found this, this morning, after Victor went up to Old Man Harlan’s. Look in the corner there.” Over the address in pale pink squiggly letters it said, The Pink Flamingo Hotel, and under that, St. Petersburg’s Best. “Victor’s letter was in this enevelope. I bet you anything it was from Armstrong!”
Vern and Fable looked at me like I was crazy.
“I think Victor’s mixed up in something. I think he’s in trouble.”
“You in trouble, you ask me,” Fable said.
“Maybe,” I said. “But if I knew for sure Victor was the one, I might could do something.”
“Stab him,” Vern said. “I would.”
25
Darkness Going Darker
Thinking we might try to melt more clouds after supper, I put the shoe box with the Rain Skull and Granny’s butcher knife in a bucket by the well. Victor had come back from Old Man Harlan’s. He’d been drinking. We all saw that he had been. He was trying to be nice about everything, rubbing Momma’s shoulders, smiling, talking to Momma and Granny.
Supper was almost ready. The afternoon thunderheads had already come and gone. There was a smell of baked ham, taters and sweet corn all through the house. Willis sat with his back against the wall in the front room, drawing a picture he didn’t want anybody to see. Vern and Fable were over on the couch, thumb-wrestling. I tried to look at Willis’s picture but he jerked it away.
Fable pinned Vern’s thumb under his. “Dat make three time.”
“Damn you!” Vern said.
Fable punched Vern hard three times on the arm.
“Damn you!”
“Ah, you boys in there!” Granny called from the kitchen. “Don’t be cussing around that a way!”
Fable and Vern looked at each other and sniggered.
I was trying to read the Body Snatcher book. Body Snatchers from outer space were snatching away people’s bodies, making copies and walking around like zombies. Victor had snatched away Daddy’s body. Now he was trying to snatch away Momma’s. I could see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
He’d put on a fresh shirt since coming back from Old Man Harlan’s, long sleeved with the cuffs rolled back. He’d also put on his glasses — the first time I saw them since he came back from Florida. He looked good — part Clark Kent, part Dean Martin. Still you could tell he had been drinking. He stood with his hand raised over his head against the doorframe, looking in at the kitchen. Stuck between the fingers of his raised right hand was a cigar, not like his others but long and skinny with a red band around one end. Smoke curled up from it — golden doll hair curls — carried to the ceiling with the rising heat.