The crazy kill (coffin johnson and grave digger jones)

by Chester Himes

  A player selects a card. When the next card for that denomination is dealt from the deck, the first card loses. Skin players say the card has fallen. It goes into the dead, and can't be played again that deal.

  Therefore a player bets that his card does not fall before his opponents' cards fall. If a player selects a seven, and the cards of all other denominations in the deck have been dealt off twice before the second seven shows, that player wins all the bets he has made.

  Johnny spun the top card face upward and it dropped in front of Doc, the player who sat across the table from him. It was an eight.

  "My hatred," Bad Eye Lewis said.

  "I ain't got no hatred unless it be death," Doc said. "Throw down, all you pikers."

  The players carried their bets to him.

  Johnny edged up the deck and fitted it into the deal box, which was open on one side with a thumb-hole for dealing. He spun the three of spades from the deck for his own card.

  Soft intense curses rose in the smoky light as the cards spun face upward from the box. Each time a card fell the bets were picked up by the winners and the loser played the next clean card dealt from the deck.

  Johnny played the three throughout the deal without it falling. He placed twelve bets and made a hundred and thirty dollars on the deal.

  Chink Charlie staggered into the room, waving a handful of money.

  "Make way for a skinner from way back," he said in a whisky-thickened voice.

  Johnny was sitting with his back to the door and didn't look around. He shuffled the deck, edged it and put it down.

  "Cut 'em, K.C.," he said.

  The other players had looked once at Chink. Now they looked once at Johnny. Then they stopped looking.

  "I don't suppose I'm barred from this mother-raping game," Chink said.

  "I ain't never barred a gambler with money," Johnny said in his toneless voice without looking about. "Pony, get up and give the gambler your seat."

  Pony Boy got up and Chink flopped into his seat.

  "I feel lucky tonight," Chink said, slapping the money on the table in front of him. "All I want to win is ten grand. How 'bout it, Johnny boy? You got ten grand to lose?"

  Once again the players looked at Chink, then back to Johnny, then at nothing.

  Johnny's face didn't flicker, his voice didn't change. "I don't play to lose, buddy boy, you'd better find out that. But you can gamble here in my club as long as you got money, and walk out of here with everything you've won. Now who wants to draw?" he asked.

  No one moved to draw a card from the deck.

  "You don't scare me," Chink said, and drew one from the bottom.

  Johnny charged him a hundred dollars. When Chink covered it he had only nineteen dollars left.

  Johnny turned off the queen.

  Doc played it.

  Chink bet him ten dollars.

  The queen of hearts doubled off.

  "Some black snake is sucking my rider's tongue," somebody said.

  Chink picked up the twenty dollars.

  Johnny put the deck in the deal box and turned himself the three of spades again.

  "Lightning never strikes twice in the same place," Bad Eye Lewis said.

  "Man, don't start talking about lightning striking," Crying Shine said. "You're sitting right in the middle of a thunder storm."

  Johnny turned off the deuce of clubs for Doc, who had first choice for a clean card.

  Doc looked at it with distaste. "I'd rather be bit in the ass by a boa constrictor than play a mother-raping black deuce," he said.

  "You want to pass it?" Johnny asked.

  "Hell," Doc said, "I ain't gambling my rathers. Throw back, yellow kid," he said to Chink.

  "That'll cost you twenty bucks," Chink said.

  "That don't hurt the money, son," Doc said, covering it. Johnny carried fifteen dollars to Doc, and began turning off the cards. Players reached for them, and bets were made. No one spoke. The silence grew.

  Johnny spun the cards in the tight white silence.

  A card fell. Hands reached for bets.

  Doc fell again and looked through the deal for a clean card, but there wasn't any.

  Johnny spun the cards and the cards fell. Chink's card held up. Johnny and Chink raked in the bets.

  "I'll bet you some more, gambler," Johnny said to Chink.

  "Throw down," Chink said.

  Johnny carried him another hundred dollars. Chink covered it and had money left.

  Johnny spun another card, then another. The veins roped in his forehead and the tentacles of his scar began to move. Blood left Chink's face until it looked like yellow wax.

  "Some more," Johnny said.

  "Throw down," Chink said. He was beginning to lose his voice.

  They pressed their bet another twenty dollars.

  Johnny eyed the money Chink had left. He pulled a card halfway out of the box and knocked it back.

  "Some more, gambler," he said.

  "Throw down," Chink whispered.

  Johnny carried fifty dollars to Chink.

  Chink covered twenty-nine and passed the rest back. Johnny spun the card. The seven of diamonds flashed in the spill of light and fell on its face.

  "Dead men falls on their face," Bad Eye Lewis said.

  Blood rushed to Chink's face, and his jowls began to swell.

  "That's you, ain't it?" Johnny said.

  "How the hell you know it's me, lest you reading these cards," Chink said thickly.

  "It's got to be you," Johnny said. "It's the only clean card left."

  The blood left Chink's face again, and it turned ashy. Johnny reached over and turned up the card that lay in front of Chink. The seven of spades looked up.

  Johnny raked in the stack of money.

  "You shot me, didn't you," Chink accused. "You shot me. You saw the seven-spot on the turn when you pulled it halfway out the box."

  "You ain't got but one more time to say that, gambler," Johnny said. "Then you goin' to have to prove it."

  Chink didn't speak.

  "If you bet fast you can't last," Doc said.

  Chink got up without speaking and left the club.

  Johnny began losing. He lost all his winnings and seven hundred dollars from the bank. Finally he stood up and said to Kid Nickels, "You take over, Kid."

  He went back into his office, took a. 38 Army Colt revolver from the safe and stuck it inside of his belt to the left of the buckle, put his green suit jacket over his rose crepe shirt. Before leaving the club he said to Nubby, "If I don't come back, tell Kid to take the money home with him."

  Pony Boy came back to the kitchen to see if Johnny needed him, but Johnny was gone.

  "That Chink Charlie," he said. "Death ain't two feet off him."

  16

  Alamena answered the door bell.

  Chink said, "I want to talk to her."

  She said, "You're stark raving crazy."

  The black cocker spaniel bitch stood guard behind Alamena's legs and barked furiously.

  "What are you barking at, Spookie?" Dulcy called in a thick voice from the kitchen.

  Spookie kept on barking.

  "Don't try to stop me, Alamena, I warn you," Chink said, trying to push past her. "I've got to talk to her."

  Alamena planted herself firmly in the entrance and wouldn't let him by.

  "Johnny's here, you fool!" she said.

  "Naw, he ain't," Chink said. "I just left him at the club."

  Alamena's eyes widened. "You went to Johnny's club?" she asked incredulously.

  "Why not," he said unconcernedly. "I ain't scared of Johnny."

  "Who the hell is that you're talkin' to, Meeny?" Dulcy called thickly.

  "Nobody," Alamena said.

  "It's me, Chink," he called.

  "Oh, it's you," Dulcy called. "Well, come on in then, honey, or else go 'way. You're making Spookie nervous."

  "Hell with Spookie," Chink said, pushing past Alamena and entering the kitchen.

&
nbsp; Alamena closed the entrance door and followed him. "If Johnny comes back and finds you here, he'll kill you sure as hell," she warned.

  "Hell with Johnny," Chink fumed. "I got enough on Johnny to send him to the electric chair."

  "If you live that long," Alamena said.

  Dulcy giggled. "Meeny's scared of Johnny," she said thickly.

  Both Alamena and Chink stared at her.

  She was sitting on one of the rubber-cushioned kitchen chairs with her bare feet propped on the table top. She was clad only in her slip, with nothing underneath.

  "Cops," she said, coyly, catching Chink's look. "You're peeping."

  "If you weren't drunk I'd give you something to giggle about," Alamena said grimly.

  Dulcy took her feet down and tried to sit straight.

  "You're just mad 'cause I got Johnny," she said slyly.

  Alamena's face went blank and she looked away.

  "Why don't you get out and let me talk to her," Chink said. "It's important."

  Alamena sighed. "I'll go up front and watch out the window for Johnny's car."

  Chink pulled up a chair and stood in front of Dulcy with his foot on the seat. He waited until he heard Alamena enter the front room, then suddenly went and closed the kitchen door, came back and took his stance.

  "Listen to me, baby, and listen well," he said, bending over and trying to hold Dulcy's gaze. "You're either going to get me those ten G's you promised to Val or I'm going to lower the boom."

  "Boom!" Dulcy said drunkenly. Chink gave a violent start. She giggled. "Thought you wasn't scared?" she said.

  Chink's face became mottled with red. "Listen, I ain't playing, girl," he said dangerously.

  She reached up as though she'd forgotten his presence and began to scratch her hair. Suddenly she looked up and caught him glaring at her. "It's just one of Spookie's fleas," she said. He began swelling about the jowls, but she didn't notice. "Spookie," she called. "Come here, darling, and sit on Mama's lap." The dog came over and began to lick her bare legs, and she picked it up and held it in her lap. "It's just one of your little black fleas, ain't it, baby?" she said, bending over to let the dog lick her face.

  Chink slapped the dog from her lap with such savage violence it crashed against the table leg and began running about the floor yelping and trying to get out.

  "I want you to listen to me," Chink said, panting with rage.

  Dulcy's face darkened with lightning-quick fury and she tried to stand up, but Chink put his hands on her shoulders and pinned her in the chair.

  "Don't you hit my dog, you mother-raper!" she shouted. "I don't allow nobody to hit my dog but me. I'll kill you quicker for hitting my dog-"

  Chink cut her off. "God damn it, I want you to listen." Alamena entered the kitchen hurriedly, and when she saw Chink holding Dulcy pinned to her seat she said, "Let her alone, nigger. Can't you see she's drunk?"

  He took away his hands but said furiously, "I want her to listen."

  "Well, that's your problem," Alamena said. "You're a bar jockey. Get her sober."

  "You want to get your throat cut again?" he said viciously.

  She didn't let it touch her. "No damned nigger like you will ever do it. And I'm not going to watch out for more than fifteen minutes, so you'd better get your talking done in a hurry."

  "You don't need to watch out for me at all," Chink said.

  "I ain't doing it for you, nigger, you needn't worry 'bout that," Alamena said as she left the kitchen and went back to her post. "Come on, Spookie." The dog followed her.

  Chink sat down and wiped the sweat from his face.

  "Listen, baby, you're not that drunk," he said.

  Dulcy giggled, but this time it sounded strained. "You're the one that's drunk if you think Johnny's going to give you ten grand," she said.

  "He ain't the one who's going to give it to me," he said. "You're the one who's going to give it to me. You're going to get it from him. And you want me to tell you why you're going to do this, baby?"

  "No, I just want you to give me time to brush off some of these hundred-dollar bills you see growing on me," she said, sounding more and more sober.

  "There's two reasons why you're going to do this," he said. "First, it was your knife that killed him. The same one I gave you for Christmas. And don't tell me you've lost it, because I know better. You wouldn't carry it around with you unless you intended using it, because you'd be too scared of Johnny seeing it."

  "Oh no you don't, honey," she said. "You ain't going to make that stick. It was your knife. You're forgetting that you showed me both of them when you told me that man down at your club, Mr. Burns, had brought them back from London and said one was for you and one was for your girl friend in case you got too handy with yours. I've still got the one you gave me."

  "Let's see it."

  "Let me see yours."

  "You know damn well I don't carry that big knife around with me."

  "Since when?"

  "I ain't never carried it on me. It's at the club."

  "That's just fine. Mine's at the seashore."

  "I ain't joking with you, girl."

  "If you think I'm joking with you, just try me. I can put my hand on my knife this minute. And if you keep pressing me about it I'm liable to get it and stick it into you." She didn't sound the least bit drunk any more.

  Chink scowled at her. "Don't threaten me," he said.

  "Don't you threaten me then."

  "If you've still got yours, why didn't you tell the cops about mine?" he said.

  "And have Johnny take the one I got and cut your throat and maybe mine too?" she said.

  "If you're all that scared, why didn't you get rid of it?" he said. "If you think Johnny's going to find it and start chivving on you."

  "And take a chance on you turning rat and saying it was my knife that killed him?" she said. "Oh no, honey, I ain't going to leave myself open for that."

  His face began to swell, but he managed to keep his temper.

  "All right then, let's say it wasn't your knife," he said. "I know it was but let's just say it wasn't-"

  "All together now," she cut in. "Let's say bull."

  "All right then, let's say it wasn't your knife," he said. [missing] to shake Johnny down for ten grand. I know that for sure."

  "And what I know for sure is that you and me ain't been drinking out the same bottle," she said. "You must have been drinking extract of gold or U.S. mint juleps, the way you keep talking about ten grand."

  "You'd better listen to me, girl," he said.

  "Don't think I ain't listening," she said. "I just keep hearing stuff that don't make any sense."

  "I ain't saying it was your idea," he said. "But you were going to do it. That's for sure. And that means just one thing. You and Val had something on Johnny that was worth that much money or you'd never have gotten up the nerve to try it."

  Dulcy laughed theatrically, but it didn't come off. "You remind me of that old gag where the man says to his girl, 'now let's both get on top.' That I'd like to see-just what me and Val had on Johnny that was worth ten grand."

  "Well, baby, I'm going to tell you,' he said. "It ain't as if I need to know what you had on him. I know you had something on him, and that's enough. When that's tied together with the knife, which you claim you've still got but ain't showing nobody, that means a murder rap for one of you. I don't know which one and I don't care. If it don't hurt you, don't holler. I'm giving you your chance. If you pass, I'm going to Johnny. If he plays tough I'm going to have a little talk with those two Harlem sheriffs, Grave Digger and Coffin Ed. And you know what that's going to mean. Johnny might be tough, but he ain't that tough."

  Dulcy got up and staggered over to the sideboard and drank two fingers of brandy straight. She tried to stand, but she found herself teetering and flopped into another chair.

  "Listen, Chink, Johnny's got enough trouble as it is," she said. "If you press him just a little bit now, he'll blow his top and kill you i
f they burn him in hell for it."

  He tried to look unimpressed. "Johnny's got sense, baby. He might have a silver plate in his head but he don't want to burn any more than anybody else."

  "Anyway, Johnny don't have that kind of money," she said. "You niggers in Harlem think Johnny's got a backyard full of money trees. He ain't no numbers man. All he's got is that little skin game."

  "It ain't so little," Chink said. "And if he ain't got that kind of money, let him borrow it. He's got that much credit with the syndicate. And whatever he's got ain't going to do neither one of you no good if I drop the boom."

  She sagged. "All right. Give me two days."

  "If you can get it in two days you can get it by tomorrow," he said.

  "All right, tomorrow," she conceded.

  "Give me half now," he said.

  "You know damn well Johnny don't have no five G's in this house," she said.

  He kept pressing her. "How about you? Ain't you stole that much yet?"

  She looked at him with steady scorn. "If you wasn't such a goddam nigger I'd stick you in the heart for that," she said. "But you ain't worth it."

  "Don't try to kid me, baby," he kept on. "You got some dough stashed. You ain't the kind of chick to take a chance on getting kicked out on your bare ass."

  She started to argue but changed her mind. "I've got about seven hundred dollars," she admitted.

  "Okay, I'll take that," he said.

  She got up and staggered toward the door. He stood up too, but she said, "Don't follow me, nigger."

  He started to ignore her but changed his mind and sat down again.

  Alamena heard her leave the kitchen and started back from the front room, but she called, "Don't bother, Meeny."

  After a moment she returned to the kitchen with a handful of greenbacks. She drew them across the table and said, "There, nigger, that's all I've got."

  He started to get up and pocket the money, but the sight of the green patch on the red-and-white checked cloth nauseated her, and before he could reach the money she had bent over and vomited all over it.

  He grabbed her by the arms and slammed her into a chair, cursing a blue streak. Then he took the filthy money to the sink and began washing it.

  Suddenly the dog came tearing into the kitchen and began barking furiously at the door that led to the service entrance, which was in the corner of the kitchen. It opened into a small alcove which led into the service stairway. The dog had heard the sound of a key being inserted quietly in the lock.