Tishomingo Blues (2002)

by Elmore Leonard

  Vernice said, "How do you remember all that?"

  Charlie said, "You remember what you want to remember," turning his head to look at Dennis. "One of the local dicks says, `We can tell you anything you want to know about this piece of dog shit.' JohnRau looks at him and says, `I want him printed.' What I'm getting at," Charlie said to Dennis, "JohnRau wasn't taking the word of the Tunica sheriff's people for what happened. He didn't act superior to them. As I said, he never raised his voice or even said much. But you knew he was taking over the investigation and they better do what they were told. He's a low-key type of person and smart, the kind you better watch."

  Vernice said, "What're you telling him that for?"

  Charlie was wearing a sportshirt hanging open over his T-shirt. He took a business card from the pocket and handed it to Dennis. "This is the guy. He wanted to come out and talk to you this evening. I said why not wait till tomorrow? I told him you were beat from working twelve hours getting ready for your show, and you didn't know anything anyway. I told him I was the one hired Floyd Showers for you." He turned to Vernice. "Man's name was Showers and looked like he never took one in his life. Floyd was a miserable sight, years beyond saving."

  Dennis looked up from the business card. "Where do I meet him?"

  "At the hotel. He'll come by some time in the morning. I said come in the afternoon and see the show."

  "What'd he say?"

  "It'll most likely be around eleven." Charlie squinted then. "I ran into this colored guy staying at the hotel? RobertTaylor, doesn't have a bad arm. He's in seven-twenty. Wants you to call him tomorrow. You know this guy?"

  "He saw me dive," Dennis said, his eyes holding on to Charlie. "He was looking out his window and saw me dive."

  Vernice subscribed to the National Enquirer, preferring it over other supermarket tabloids because "they get deeper into the stories and're better written." She kept back issues she hadn't had time to read on the screened porch, saying, "They come every week, but it seems like near every day."

  Dennis had a couple of microwaved Lean Cuisines for supper, both chicken but different, and came out on the porch to look through a few Enquirers. He sat by a lamp reading, not sure if the sound he heard was the hissing in his ears from diving-a constant sound when he thought about it-or insects out in the yard. Sometimes he thought it sounded like steam from a radiator. He had read a few stories, finished "Jennifer Lopez Warned: Leave My Puff Daddy Alone," and was starting on "Jane Fonda Finds God" when Charlie came out to the porch.

  "This RobertTaylor saw you dive, huh? What else?"

  "He saw ArlenNovis and the other guy ... What's his name?"

  Charlie hesitated but then told him, "Junior Owens. They call him Junebug."

  Dennis said, "The guy that runs the honky-tonk, but it's really Arlen's?"

  "Jesus Christ-she tell you everything's going on? That woman sure likes the sound of her own voice."

  "Charlie, all Robert saw were two guys talking to me up on the perch. He wasn't watching when Floyd was shot."

  "But he was in the crowd come out to the crime scene." Charlie sounding hoarse keeping his voice down. "He knows what happened now and he can put you there."

  "He won't," Dennis said.

  "How do you know?"

  "Robert's got his own agenda."

  "The hell does that mean?"

  "Take my word," Dennis said, not wanting to get into Kirkbride and the granddaddies. "Robert isn't the kind's gonna volunteer information. We're talking, I must've seemed nervous. You know, after what I saw. He said, `Come on, I'm not looking into your business.' "

  Charlie seemed to give it some thought before he said, "You saw Arlen. You sure he didn't see you, in Robert's car?"

  "He couldn't have."

  "But you recognized him?"

  "I see the Lone Ranger coming out of the house-shit yeah, I recognized him. Vernice told you, didn't she? He wanted to talk to you about uniforms? Doesn't like you going Yankee on him."

  "That's what he told her."

  "You dress up and play war with those guys? Pretend to shoot each other? It's hard for me to imagine."

  " 'Cause you don't know anything about it."

  "I remember you saying-I told you I thought the one looked like a deputy or a state trooper? And you said, `You oughta see him with his sword'? I didn't know what you were talking about. Then Vernice tells me Arlen and his gang all get into it, playing war." He could tell Charlie didn't like the way he was talking, but didn't care. He said, "You gonna let him talk you out of being a Yankee?"

  Charlie said, "You're sure a lot spunkier'n the last time I saw you."

  "I'm trying to forget what happened. Since I wasn't there."

  "That's good, 'cause Arlen just phoned." "About the uniform?"

  "Will you forget the goddamn uniform?" Charlie's voice rising now, irritated. "He wanted me to know they killed Floyd because he might talk, not 'cause he did. Arlen says we ever put him at that scene we'd end up in a ditch."

  "What did you say?"

  "I told him to stay away from us. And had another drink."

  "What're you gonna do?"

  "Watch my goddamn back. What you think I'm gonna do?"

  Dennis thought of RobertTaylor, Robert's voice in the dark saying, "That man gives you any shit, tell me." Dennis hesitated but kept looking at Charlie before he said, "I think of what happened ... I'm up on the ladder ... Could they have walked out from the hotel and not seen me?"

  "They couldn't miss seeing you."

  "So they don't care I'm a witness. It wasn't gonna stop 'em from shooting Floyd."

  Charlie said, "You're just some squirt stuck up there on the ladder. They might've wished they brought a rifle."

  Dennis said, "They were having fun talking about it-making a bet whether the one could hit me or not, Junebug, with the slicked-back hair. He said, `Shit, I'll hit him on the fly.' "

  "I heard 'em," Charlie said, "but couldn't tell what they were saying."

  "I think about it now," Dennis said, "it pisses me off. They didn't see me as any kind of problem. Who's the guy in the red trunks? Where? Up on the ladder. That's nobody-fuck him. You know what I mean? When Arlen threatened you, on the phone, didn't it piss you off?"

  "Sure it did."

  Dennis watched Charlie looking down at his big hands, the left one that years ago could throw a baseball ninety-nine miles an hour.

  "You bet I was pissed."

  Dennis said, "You're bigger than he is."

  "Yes, I am," Charlie said, looking up. "I use to buy him cheap when he was a two-bit deputy and I was running liquor."

  Dennis sat in the lawn chair, National Enquirers on his lap. "Did you know Tom and Nicole fell out of love way before Tom pulled the plug?"

  "I suspected it," Charlie said, "but wasn't ever sure. You want a beer?"

  Chapter 6

  ROBERT OPENED THE DOOR in a hotel terry-cloth robe smoking weed, knowing who it was and what happened, curious to see how Dennis was handling himself this morning. One to ten-ten being all the way cool-Dennis was about a seven, up from the five he was last night; though before he got out of the car at Vernice's he might've inched up to a six. It surprised RobertDennis wasn't tighter strung, Dennis looking around the suite now. Robert offered the joint and Dennis took it saying, "One hit, I have to dive." Robert watched him take it in deep and let it work inside him before blowing it out. He took another quick one saying, "I have to see a state cop from the CIB in about ten minutes. You know what CIB stands for?"

  "What it means every place they have it," Robert said, watching Dennis again looking around the suite, still holding on to the joint, pinching it, looking at the balcony open to blue sky and around to the table by the sofa, looking at Robert's stack of CDs now and the jam box, where John Lee Hooker was coming from.

  Dennis said it. "JohnLeeHooker."

  Robert said, "You got the ear." Dennis told him he used to have the CD, "King of Boogie," and Robert said, "I'll try anot
her one on you. See how good you are."

  He watched Dennis take his third hit. This time he handed back the joint saying, "That's good stuff."

  "It's all right. I scored it last night."

  "After you dropped me off?"

  "Way after, with my friend the security brother use to be a Memphis policeman? He took me to a place called Junebug's, a white man's idea of a juke joint, full of ugly people giving us dirty looks, except some young ladies and the management. The young ladies wanted to show us their trailers and the management wanted to sell us uppers. I said I go the other way, chief, and scored a bag, three bills the local rate for a half. We leave, some of the uglies come outside, their intention I'm feeling to kick our heads in. But they see the gleaming black Jag-u-ar and their minds go, shit, who is this nigga owns a car like that? We drive off I give 'em a toot."

  He could see Dennis was anxious to tell him something and there were things Robert would like to know, but wanted Dennis sitting down first, at ease-on the sofa, good-and a cool drink? Uh-unh.

  Dennis said, "The two guys, the ones looking up at me on the ladder ...?

  "The ones shot your man Floyd."

  "They own Junebug's."

  "Hey, shit, you don't mean to tell me." It brought a grin. "The one being Junebug himself and the other one was Arlen ... Novis?"

  "The one we thought was the Lone Ranger," Dennis said, looser than when he walked in, up from a seven to eight, grinning back, Dennis saying, "But how do you know that?"

  "I told you, I do my homework. And Junebug and Mr. Novis musta done Floyd before I started watching, huh?" Dennis looked toward the balcony and Robert said, "Not out there, the bedroom window. I was getting dressed."

  He offered Dennis the joint but he shook his head.

  "Don't want to go off the perch baked."

  "I have. It's not a good idea."

  "So they saw you and they know you saw them."

  "I have to meet the CIB guy," Dennis said, looking at his watch. "You were me, what would you tell him?"

  "Tell him I wasn't there. Tell him I'm just a dumb white boy dives offa eighty-foot ladders. Why didn't they shoot you?"

  "Charlie came out."

  "That's right. Why didn't they shoot him, too?" "He knows those guys. Charlie use to run whiskey."

  "They friends of his?"

  "He knows 'em, that's all."

  "Tells 'em you won't say nothing, but you not sure they believe it. They know if you point 'em out they gone."

  "That's where I am," Dennis said.

  "Saying to yourself, what the fuck am I doing here? Thinking it might be best to take off."

  He watched Dennis frown and shake his head saying he wasn't going anywhere, he had his show set up.

  Good. He was cool, gonna face whatever, ride it out.

  "Let's me and you," Robert said, "stay close. You know what I'm saying? Help each other out. Like I wouldn't mind you coming with me to see Mr. Kirkbride." It got Dennis frowning again. "For fun. Watch the man's face when I show him the picture. Watch how I play him."

  "You want an audience," Dennis said, getting up from the sofa. "I have to go."

  "I watch you perform, you watch me. Listen, I phoned, the man's over at his Southern Living place today."

  "And you know who works there?" Dennis said, wandering over to the balcony. "The Lone Ranger."

  "I heard that," Robert said. "Understand he did some time, too. See, the security brother still has friends on the Memphis Police. They look up sheets, tell him, and he tells me what I need to know."

  "You pay him, huh?"

  "Way more than he earns making people feel secure." Robert watched Dennis step out to the balcony and remembered he wanted to play a CD for him. He heard Dennis say Billy Darwin was down there. Talking to the hotel electrician.

  "What's he doing? I told him I'd set the spots tonight."

  Robert was up now shuffling through his stack of CDs, telling Dennis, "I arrive, check in, I give the cashier ten thousand in cash, so they know I'm here."

  "You said you don't gamble."

  "I put on a show, play some baccarat like JamesBond. I'm using the cashier as a bank for my tip money I don't have to carry around. Understand? I get the suite comped, I get tickets to the shows in the TomTomRoom, and I get to meet Mr. Billy Darwin, shake his hand. Mr. Billy Darwin is cool. He looks you in the eye and you know he's reading you. Mr. Billy Darwin can tell in five seconds if you for real or you by ciditty. You know what I'm saying?"

  Dennis turned from the balcony. "I don't have any idea."

  "From that Shemekia Copeland song `Miss Hy Ciditty'? Means a person puts on airs, fakes it." He found the CD he wanted and replaced JohnLeeHooker with it.

  Dennis said, "So how'd you come out with Darwin?"

  But the CD came on, a dirge beat, and Robert said, "Listen, see if you can name who this is."

  Dennis heard a baritone male voice half singing half speaking the words:

  I got a bone for you.

  I got a bone for you.

  I got a little bone for you.

  I got a bone for you 'cause I'm a doggy And I'm naked almost all the time.

  "The harmonica could be Little Walter," Dennis said, "but I don't know."

  "Little Walter, shit. Man, that's MarvinPontiac and his hit song `I'm a Doggy.' "

  "I never heard of him."

  "Shame on you. Marvin's my man. MarvinPontiac, part of him came out of Muddy Waters. Another part was stolen from him by IggyPop. You know Iggy?"

  "Yeah, I see what you mean. Iggy's `I Want to Be Your Dog' must've come from ... yeah, `I'm a Doggy.'

  MarvinPontiac's voice saying, singing:

  I'm a doggy.

  I stink when I'm wet 'cause I'm a doggy.

  "Some of his music," Robert said, "he calls Afro-Judaic blues. Marvin always wore white robes and a turban like ErykahBadu's before she went baldheaded. Had his own ways. Lived by himself.... Listen to this. A producer begged him to cut a record? MarvinPontiac said yeah, all right, he'd do it-if the producer would cut his grass."

  "His lawn?"

  "Yeah, his grass, his lawn, the man did it to get Marvin in the studio. That's what you listening to, The Legendary Marvin Pontiac Greatest Hits.

  `Pancakes' is on there. `Bring Me Rocks' is on there. It's the one has the line `My penis has a face and it likes to bark at Germans.' That's funny 'cause MarvinPontiac's face was never photographed. There shots of him taken from far away, you see him in his white robes and the turban? But there's not any up close."

  "He still around?"

  "Died in '77 in Detroit. Got run over by a bus and they picked his bones, Iggy and some others, DavidBowie. But listen, you better get ready, do your dive. You know what one you gonna do?"

  "Not till I'm up on the perch. This afternoon's a warm-up."

  "Look over the house. Big crowd, give 'em the triple somersault with some twists and shit. Small crowd-"

  "Flying reverse pike. I gotta go," Dennis said, "meet the CIB guy."

  Robert said, "Wait," and edged toward the balcony. "Remember I was telling you about the famous crossroads?"

  He saw Dennis shake his head.

  "Last night in the car, driving you to Tunica." Robert paused but didn't get a reaction. "I'm telling you about the great RobertJohnson the bluesman and the cop cars go flying past?"

  "Yeah, I remember."

  Robert pointed out at the sky. "That way thirty miles down the road, where Highway 49 crosses Old 61."

  "Yeah?"

  "That's the famous crossroads. Where the great RobertJohnson sold his soul to the devil. You understand what I'm saying to you?"

  No, he didn't.

  He didn't understand half of what Robert said to him.

  Was Robert here because this was where some serious blues got started? The way tourists visit Elvis' house in Tupelo with the bed in the living room? Robert was too cool to be a tourist. Robert wouldn't visit a site, Robert was the site. Was he here looking for
talent? Some forgotten bluesman missing link, another MarvinPontiac, and take him back to Motown?

  Or was that a side deal while he set up Mr. Kirkbride?

  Why would he show Kirkbride the photograph of a man hanging from a bridge unless he expected to get something out of it? Restitution. Play on Kirkbride's sympathy. Hope the man is a rich bleeding heart. Willing to contribute to ... what? Some kind of appeal, the Robert Taylor scholarship fund for the heirs of a man who was lynched. Robert drives up in his cool S-Type Jaguar looking legit, Robert soft-spoken ... and the man hanging from the bridge isn't even his great-granddaddy.

  This is what Dennis was thinking in the elevator, cutting across the lobby and down the hallway past the rest rooms, the beauty shop, the workout room and sauna toward the patio bar.

  Robert had the confidence to be a confidence man. You believed him. He said in the car last night, "That man gives you any shit, tell me." Dennis believed him as he said it and still believed he was the guy he could go to. Robert knew what was going on here. He knew ArlenNovis had been to prison and worked for Mr. Kirkbride, because Robert had looked into Mr. Kirkbride, he must have, to see if the man was worth going after.

  Dennis pushed through the glass door to the patio.

  Mr Lenahan?

  It was the CIB man, JohnRau, it had to be, getting up from a table, his hand extended. Dennis walked over and they shook hands. JohnRau, in his shirtsleeves but wearing a tie, his navy-blue suitcoat on the back of his chair, gave Dennis his card and asked in a pleasant voice if he'd like a cold beverage. Dennis said no thanks, feeling the grass laying him back now just enough. Good stuff.

  JohnRau had a Coca-Cola and a dish of mixed nuts on the table. They sat down and Dennis let him explain who he was and what he was investigating, JohnRau saying it shouldn't take too long, he understood Dennis was getting ready to do a show.

  Dennis was staring at JohnRau's tie, blue, with an American flag in the center of it. He said, "It's more of a warm-up than a show. I haven't gone off the top in more than a month." He looked at the mixed nuts now and wanted some. "Of course anybody who'd like to watch is more than welcome." He said, "Do you mind?" reaching for the nuts.