The car stopped next to the hydrant where Burke had parked his car. Burke opened his door and put the canvas bag out onto the street.
“You’re on your own,” he said to Richard.
“What am I supposed to do with Chuck?” Richard said.
“Not my problem,” Burke said. “I was you I’d dump the car, get on a train and go live someplace else.”
He stepped out of the car, and shut the door. He watched as Richard pulled away, then he picked up the canvas bag, put it in his trunk, took the remaining load from the shotgun, put the shell in his pocket and the shotgun in the trunk. He closed the lid. Then he walked the two blocks to Robinson’s house and rang the doorbell. There was movement in the house and at the window, then Robinson opened the front door. He was dressed and he carried a baseball bat.
“Everything’s fine,” Burke said.
“How about the shot I heard?”
Burke shook his head.
“Everything’s fine,” he said. “Go to sleep. I’ll pick you up in the morning.”
Burke stared back at Robinson’s dark fierce intelligent gaze for a moment, and waited. But Robinson decided not to say anything else. He closed the door. Burke walked back two blocks to his car and drove home.
Box Score 7
29.
THEY WERE ON their way to a home game with the Reds. Burke was driving.
“They came to my home,” Robinson said. “They know where we live.”
“Just two of them,” Burke said. “One of them is dead and the other one is running away.”
“You’re sure he’s running?”
“He told me that Paglia sent him. When Paglia finds out he’ll have him killed, if he can find him.”
“And this guy knows that,” Jackie said.
“Yes.”
Jackie nodded.
“How’s Paglia going to find out?” he said.
“I’m going to tell him,” Burke said.
“Why?”
“This needs to stop,” Burke said. “I’m going to talk with Paglia.”
“You think you can?”
“Yeah.”
“What are you going to say?”
“I’ll think of something,” Burke said.
Jackie started to speak, and stopped, and looked thoughtfully at Burke.
“We knew it would be tough,” Jackie said. “Me and Rachel, when we signed on. I don’t think we knew it would be this tough.”
“Nobody knew,” Burke said.
“She has to be safe,” Jackie said.
“She’ll be all right,” Burke said. “It’s sort of against the rules to kill wives and children.”
“Rules?”
Burke nodded.
“You think they got in, they wouldn’t have hurt her?” Jackie said.
“They weren’t supposed to.”
“How do you know?”
“I know a lot of thugs,” Burke said.
“And they have rules.”
“Sure. Most people got rules.”
“You?” Jackie said.
“Except me,” Burke said.
Jackie stared at Burke for a moment. It was what Burke had come to think of as the look. Jackie didn’t say anything and Burke wheeled the car into the players’ parking lot. They walked to the clubhouse in silence. When Jackie was inside, Burke went around and in through the rotunda to sit in his place by the dugout.
30.
IT WAS THE SIXTH inning. The Reds led the Dodgers 9–1. Bucky Walters was pitching. Augie Galen had a three-run home run, and Grady Hatton had two doubles. For the Dodgers, Vic Lombardi had given way to Hank Behrman, who had been replaced by Clyde King. Jackie had a single and a stolen base. Burke was drinking Coca-Cola, watching the ever-hopeful Hilda Chester ring her cowbell from the outfield stands. A tall thin man with high shoulders came down the aisle and slid into the seat next to him.
“You want to talk with me?” he said.
“Cash,” Burke said.
“Okay, Burke, you know my name.”
Burke smiled a little.
“And you know mine,” he said.
“I’ve known yours for a long time, remember?”
“And now we’re even,” Burke said.
“Okay, we’re buddies,” Cash said. “What do you want?”
“You’re still with Paglia,” Burke said.
Cash nodded. His eyes were a very light blue. It made his face seem almost artificial.
“And you sent Richard and Chuck to kill Robinson,” Burke said.
Cash made no answer.
“Did you know they tried to break into his house?”
Cash didn’t speak.
“His wife was there.”
Cash shrugged.
“You think they wouldn’t have killed her too?”
Cash shrugged again.
It was the first half of the seventh inning. Frankie Baumholtz singled into right field on the ground between Jackie and Eddie Stanky.
“What makes you think I got anything to do with that?” Cash said.
“Richard told me.”
“And Chuck?”
“Chuck’s dead,” Burke said.
Cash nodded slowly.
“Where’s Richard?” he said.
“Out of town,” Burke said.
“I know why,” Cash said.
Eddie Miller hit into a double play. Cash gestured at a vendor as he came down the aisle toward them.
“You want another Coca-Cola?” Cash said.
“Sure.”
Cash held up two fingers, got the Coca-Colas, handed one to Burke, put the other one on the floor and paid the vendor. Then he picked up his drink and leaned back and put his feet up against the railing in front of him. He looked at the field.
“You think anybody ever hit that Abe Stark sign out there and got a free suit?”
“Only if the right fielder fell down,” Burke said.
Cash drank some of his Coke.
“Damn sign’s three feet off the ground,” Cash said.
Babe Young flied to Pete Reiser in left field, and the teams changed sides. Cash drank again. Then he took a package of Camels from his shirt pocket, offered one to Burke, took one for himself and lit Burke’s and his own with a silver Zippo. He took in a long drag and then spoke as he let the smoke out slowly.
“I didn’t know about the wife,” he said.
Burke sipped his soda.
“Hard to get good help,” Cash said. “Since the war.”
“You in it?” Burke said.
“North Africa,” Cash said. “You?”
“Guadalcanal.”
Gene Hermanski hit for King and singled.
“You ask me to meet you so we could swap war stories?” Cash said.
“We need to work this out,” Burke said. “I don’t want to have to keep shooting people.”
“We got plenty.”
“We need to work this out,” Burke said.
“You got a suggestion?”
“I need a little time,” Burke said.
“So?”
“I want you to give it to me.”
“Talk to Paglia,” Cash said. “I don’t call the shots.”
“I want to talk with Paglia, but not yet,” Burke said. “I need a week or so.”
“I work for Paglia,” Cash said.
“If Paglia wants something done he tells you and you take care of it.”
“Yeah.”
“So he wants to send somebody else after us, he’ll tell you and you stall it for a week,” Burke said.
“Why would I do that?”
“You put the wife in danger.”
“Yeah?”
“You broke the rules,” Burke said.
Cash smiled.
“I thought you didn’t care about anything,” Cash said.
“I do what I’m hired for.”
“Me too,” Cash said.
“Can you give me a week, I don’t have to be looking around every corn
er?”
Cash looked at him silently, nodding his head slowly. Eddie Stanky, on a 3–1 pitch, fouled out to Ray Lamanno. Cash grinned suddenly. There was a wolfish quality to the grin.
“Sure,” Cash said. “Why not?”
31.
BURKE CALLED JULIUS Roach from a pay phone near the clubhouse door.
“Nice to hear your voice again, Burke. What can I do for you.”
“I need to talk with whatever colored guy runs the rackets in Harlem.”
“And you think I would know?” Roach said.
“Yes sir.”
“Would you care to tell me why you want this?”
“No sir.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone for a moment.
Then Roach said, “Call me tomorrow.”
“Thank you.”
Again silence.
“Have you heard at all from my daughter,” Roach said.
“No.”
Silence.
“She all right?” Burke said finally.
“Certainly,” Roach said.
“Give her my best.”
“No,” Roach said. “I don’t think I will.”
“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Burke said.
Burke closed his eyes and stood with the phone still in his hand for a long time after Roach hung up. He pressed his shoulder blades against the wall and rolled the back of his head slowly back and forth on the concrete, until Jackie showed up.
“How long you been with your wife,” Burke said to Jackie as they drove home.
“Met her in 1941,” Jackie said. “We were both at UCLA.”
“You been together since.”
“Yes. Got married ’bout a year and a half ago.”
“Any regrets?” Burke said.
“It’s the greatest thing I ever did,” he said. “Who we talking about here?”
Burke shook his head.
“We talking about you and that girl that likes bad men?”
“What the fuck do you know?” Burke said.
Jackie smiled.
“Hell,” he said. “I been to college.”
Burke snorted. They drove in silence for a time, until Jackie spoke again.
“What if you turned out not to be so bad a guy as you think you are?”
Burke shrugged.
“And she liked you anyway?”
Burke shrugged again.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said.
“You brought it up,” Jackie said.
“I just asked about your wife.”
“Sure,” Jackie said. “I guess that’s right.”
32.
WENDELL JACKSON had an office in the back of a pool room on Seventh Avenue near 131st Street. There were three Negroes playing pool when Burke entered. All three looked at him without comment.
“Looking for Wendell Jackson,” Burke said to them.
They paid no attention to him. Burke walked past them to the back of the pool room and knocked on a closed door beside the Coke machine. It was opened by a well-built light-skinned Negro with a thin mustache. He was wearing an expensive tan double-breasted suit, a white on white shirt, a hand-painted tie and a Borsolino hat. He looked at Burke without speaking, his body blocking the door opening.
“I’d like to talk with Wendell Jackson,” Burke said.
“Un huh.”
The Negro didn’t move.
“Julius Roach sent me,” Burke said.
The Negro looked silently at Burke for a time. Then he closed the door. Burke waited. In maybe a minute, the door opened again. The Negro stepped aside and Burke went in. There was another Negro. He was slender and much darker than the man who’d opened the door. He had receding hair and wore a white shirt with loose sleeves, and high-waisted gray slacks and sandals. The shirt was unbuttoned over his smooth hard chest. He was half lying on a chaise drinking iced tea. He gestured Burke toward a straight-backed chair beside a desk. The light-skinned Negro closed the office door and leaned on the wall beside it with his arms folded over his chest. Burke sat in the straight chair.
“I’m Wendell,” the dark-skinned man said. He stressed the second syllable.
“My name’s Burke.”
“You want some tea, Burke?”
“Sure.”
“Ellis?”
The light-skinned Negro went to a refrigerator in the corner of the room and took out a pitcher and poured some tea into a tall glass. He put the glass on the desk next to Burke and went back to his space beside the door.
“Hope you like it sweet,” Jackson said.
“It’s fine,” Burke said.
“I like it with a little fresh mint,” Jackson said.
“Sure,” Burke said.
“So what does Julius want?” Jackson said.
Burke shook his head.
“It’s what I want.”
Jackson raised his eyebrows and tipped his head a little.
“Honest to God?” Jackson said.
“I asked Julius who ran the rackets up here, and he sent me to you.”
“How you know Julius?”
“Used to be his daughter’s bodyguard,” Burke said.
Jackson smiled and drank some tea.
“So you the gentleman snapped a couple of Frank’s boys.”
“Yes.”
“Had a little problem with young Louis, I think.”
“I did,” Burke said. “Now I don’t.”
“You bodyguarding Julius’s daughter,” Jackson said. “You protecting her from people or people from her.”
“Either way,” Burke said. “Now I’m guarding Jackie Robinson.”
“Goddamn,” Jackson said. “You hear that, Ellis? This is the man guarding Jackie.”
Ellis nodded silently.
“So you be the guy had the blowout with Johnny Paglia over on one two five.”
“Yes,” Burke said.
“Man, you do get about, do you not,” Jackson said.
“You pay attention,” Burke said.
“Happened in my neighborhood,” Jackson said. “You didn’t fool with no sissies.”
“Luck of the draw,” Burke said. “I need you to help me.”
“Why I wanna do that?” Jackson said.
There was the faint hint of an accent in Jackson’s voice. Maybe Caribbean, Burke thought.
“Couple nights ago,” Burke said, “Paglia sent two guys to kill Jackie, in his home, while his wife was there.”
“Paglia’s a pig,” Jackson said. “Got no style.”
“How come he’s able to do business up here?” Burke said.
“Had a piece of it before I moved in,” Jackson said. “Seemed easier to let him keep it than take it away from him.”
“Could you?” Burke said.
“Take it away from him? I think we could. What you think, Ellis?”
“ ’Course we could,” Ellis said.
“So that’s our leverage,” Burke said.
Jackson smiled.
“Our leverage,” he said. “I like your style, white boy.”
“I want you to call Paglia off of Jackie.”
“Why I wanna do that?” Jackson said again.
“You and he are the same color,” Burke said.
“Sho nuff,” Jackson said. “And we all like fish fries and watermelon and picking on the old banjo.”
Burke didn’t say anything.
“You want more tea?” Jackson said.
Burke nodded.
“Ellis?” Jackson said.
Ellis poured more tea.
“You like watermelon, Ellis?” Jackson said.
“I do,” Ellis said with no expression, “and I likes to dance and do the buck and wing.”
Still Burke was silent.
“You can’t handle this yourself, Burke?”
“No. Paglia’s got, what, fifty people? Sooner or later one of them will get by me.”
The room was quiet. Jackson gestured toward Ellis with his emp
ty glass and Ellis poured him more tea. Burke drank his. Jackson drank his. Ellis stood by the door.
“What you think, Ellis?” Jackson said after a while.
“Jackie’s a good player,” Ellis said. “I like to watch him.”
Jackson drank some more tea.
“I do too,” he said.
Burke sat silently.
“I’ll have Ellis speak to Johnny,” Jackson said. “That doesn’t end it, let me know.”
“It’ll end it,” Ellis said.
33.
THE ST. ALBANS section of Queens was for Negroes with some money. The houses were mostly English Tudor set behind small neat lawns which fronted on clean streets. Burke drove Jackie to one of them.
“Walt Sewell,” Jackie said. “Works for the Amsterdam News. It’s his kid’s birthday.”
“How old?”
“Sixteen.”
“And you’re the surprise package?” Burke said.
“Supposed to be. Some people may be surprised to see you.”
“Wrong color?” Burke said.
“Un huh.”
“Anyone know why I’m with you?”
“Nope.”
“Long as they don’t lynch me,” Burke said.
Jackie smiled and rang the doorbell. An attractive colored woman came to the door wearing a flowered dress with big puffy shoulders. There was a white flower tucked in her hair. She smiled widely at Jackie.
“I’m Jack Robinson, ma’am. . . .”
“For heaven’s sake,” she said, “I know who you are. Everybody knows who you are. I’m Joan Sewell.”
Her eyes shifted to Burke and showed nothing.
“This is my friend,” Robinson said. “Mr. Burke.”
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Burke,” she said. “Please, come in.”
The room was filled in the center with a buffet table on which there was ham and chicken and roast beef and potato salad and coleslaw and sandwich rolls and a large bowl of pink punch. The people around the table were adolescent girls and boys. Several adults stood in a small group away from the table. One of them came toward Robinson and Burke as they entered.
“Jackie,” he said. “Thank you for coming.”
He didn’t make eye contact with Burke.
“Glad I could make it, Walt. This is my friend Burke.”
Walt put out a hand. Burke shook it.
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Burke. You with the Dodgers?”
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