Under constant attack from the shooters staked out in the pasture, they carried Baltimore’s limp frame to the car and flew down the same road they used coming in. Pudge mashed the gas pedal against the floor board. Baltimore grimaced painfully, while Henry applied pressure with one of the folded cloth hoods sewn by Penny and Etta. Without it, Baltimore didn’t stand a chance of seeing another sunrise.
37
AFTER THE DAWN
Pudge listened to Henry yelping from the back seat, begging him to go faster. He pushed forward, recklessly side swiping parked cars during dangerous turns. While they traveled along Newstead Avenue, a green sedan raced beside them. The driver gunned the motor to keep pace. Dank stuck his shotgun out of the front passenger window until he realized the person roaring down the avenue wasn’t a team of white men out to pursue them. It was Dixie Sinclair. “It’s a lady, y’all!” Dank yelled, shocked to see her handling the big four-door so effectively. “It’s a white lady!”
Pudge drew closer to Etta’s Fast House but Dixie wouldn’t let up. Her car raced forward inch for inch. Smiley arose from the backseat. He recognized Dixie’s face. “Ah, hell, it’s Barker’s wife. She’s saying to follow, but it smells like a trap.”
“That’s the one who got this whole mess going from scratch?” asked Dank, cocking his shotgun. “I’m a blow the front end off her car.”
“Nah, she’s okay,” Baltimore grunted. “She needs something I got.”
“Baltimore says to stay with her,” Henry shouted, praying that a dying man knew who to trust. If proven wrong, he wouldn’t get a second chance to make the same mistake. No sooner than Dixie slowed her pace and made a right at the next corner, they saw three police cars parked next to the curb in front of the Fast House. Uniformed officers had been told to keep an eye peeled for bundles of heroin while searching for an escaped fugitive from justice. Six cops, sent by Tasman Gillespie, were encouraged to gash the place beyond repair. By the distraught looks on the colored men’s faces as they passed by, the cops were highly conscientious about their duties, swinging axes at tables and chairs, knocking holes in the bar, smashing bottles and ripping everything in reach from windows to the walls with sledgehammers. Watching them mangle Etta’s dream and livelihood was difficult to take, but Baltimore’s injury forced them to press on. Pudge tailed Dixie for three more blocks. She swung wildly into the alley behind Watkins Emporium. Remembering what Smiley said about it being a double cross Pudge gave Dank the go-ahead to blast anything that appeared suspicious.
Parked in the rear of the dry goods store next to Dixie’s Chevrolet was Etta’s Chrysler Imperial. Pudge leapt out while Dank circled around. Before they reached the door leading to a storeroom, Delbert stormed outside to meet them.
“Get Baltimore in here and hurry. Jinx called ahead so we sent Mrs. Sinclair out to find y’all,” he explained hurriedly. “Glad she ran across you fellas first. There’s a death squad tearing through “The Ville” out to get you.”
“Yeah, we saw. They’s well into getting Etta’s club,” lamented Pudge, with the image of it being gutted down to the pipes still in his mind.
Henry panted as he and Smiley carried Baltimore inside the back door. “You’d better ditch that squad car, Pudge,” he wisely advised. “It could lead them right to us. Smiley, why don’t you run along with him and see that he finds his way back?” Smiley took one long breath, glanced at Baltimore again then trekked out of the door with Pudge. Henry had seen Dank operate in a hail of bullets when they raided a high stakes gambling establishment a year ago in Kansas City. Pudge was a great getaway driver although his nerve as a shooter was still suspect. Smiley could get it done if someone needed to be killed. Likewise, Dank lacked compunction when it came to doing the deed. Henry was smart to hold him back as a safeguard in the event they were discovered.
Once they secured Baltimore on top of the sturdy cutting table, Chozelle tipped in with them. She’d planned to run off with him before observing firsthand what painful uncertainties an association with a man like that could bring her way. Baltimore hadn’t asked for her companionship, but she assumed he wouldn’t turn it aside if she offered it in the right way. Now, Chozelle was sorry for considering it. She felt like a fool with a secret, too silly to share. “Dear God, is he dead?” she cried nervously before vomiting in the sink.
“Nah, he ain’t, just fell off is all,” answered Henry. “The doc’s gonna fix him. Ain’t that right, doc?” Delbert prepared anesthetics and alcohol. He glared at Henry, in defense of his personal commitment. His was equally as thick as theirs.
Penny filed inside the crowded room like always, in Etta’s shadow. Dixie slinked in at the back, purposely not getting too close. When Dank laid eyes on her his teeth clanked together. “I’ll be damned if it ain’t that witch again. Haven’t you seen enough of colored folk? Cause I know I’m tired of looking at you.”
“Leave her be, Dank,” growled Etta. “She told us everything and she’s mighty sorry about the way things played out. Without her help, we couldn’t have known where to send or none of y’all.”
“Come on, now, it’s her fault Baltimore’s laying there on that table,” argued Dank. Just thinking about the trouble she’d caused had gotten him mad at her all over again.
“When those lawmen galloped in on her and Baltimore’s spat, Dixie wasn’t grappling by herself on that bedroom floor,” Etta debated intensely. “Was she?”
“You didn’t have nothing to do with it and they’s down the street splintering the club apart,” answered Dank.
“They’re not trying to hurt me,” she said knowingly. “Somebody’s got them looking for something is all. What they’ve been sent after ain’t there, though.” Etta had seen trouble coming a mile away. She’d packed her bags, emptied out the safe and hid all of the things she’d planned on taking when she left town. Penny was an utter mess. She shivered continually while Baltimore laid still. Etta had to pry her from that very spot when Delbert began fishing at the bullet from his side. “Come on, chile, this ain’t the kind of thing you need to see,” was Etta’s honest assessment. “Come on, Dixie, you neither.” The three of them departed into the dimly lit emporium and ducked behind the counter, out of sight from passersby.
“Hold him down!” ordered Delbert. “He’s got to lay still or the bullet might start to move around in him.” Dreadful screams came from that back room during the hour that lapsed before Delbert located and then extracted the bullet. His clothes and surgery gown were soaked throughout with sweat and blood. When Pudge returned with Smiley, Baltimore appeared half past dead. His skin was washed out, a peculiar shade of ash white.
Delbert peeled off his mask and gown to greet them. “What took y’all so long?” he whispered wearily, worn to the bone.
“He didn’t make it?” asked Smiley. “All of this was for nothing.” He slammed his fist down on the table near Baltimore’s head.
“Watch it, boy,” Baltimore whined. “You still got bad aim.”
“He’s gonna make it!” Smiley shouted triumphantly.
“Not if you don’t keep your big mouth shut,” Dank threatened harshly. “We all got to clean up and skin out of here.”
Henry wiped his face with a blood stained towel. “You did a great job, doc. How far you reckon we can move him?”
“Move him? Man, he just underwent surgery. He’ll need time to heal and rest. Moving him at all could kill him.”
“If those Metro cops find us here, he’ll die here for certain,” said Dixie, with Etta co-signing her assertion. “He can’t be here when the sun rises and the way I see it, that’ll be about thirty minutes from now. I filed for divorce, so I’ve got no reason for sticking around.” Dank didn’t have the heart to tell Dixie that her petition to the courts wasn’t necessary. Barker couldn’t contest it from the grave. Etta thanked her, paid what Baltimore said she deserved and then wished her well. Dank wished her the hell away from him.
Delbert washed up and suggested Baltimore
see a doctor with a real examination room, informing them that his procedure was merely patchwork to hold him together. Etta shushed his modest rants, slipped him two thousand dollars and handed him the keys to her sporty two-door Chrysler Imperial. “Just a little pre-wedding folding money for you and that pastor’s daughter,” she told Delbert on the sly. “That’s one pretty nurse you found yourself.”
“Nobody knew about me and Sue’s engagement,” said Delbert, before catching on finally. “Oh, right. This is St. Louis.”
“You’s kinda slow for a smart doctor, but that don’t stop us from counting you as a friend.”
“Thanks, Miss Etta. I’ll remember y’all, always,” Delbert promised, shaking hands and gathering various surgical instruments. “One question, though, how is it you’re gonna leave after giving away your car?”
“That old thing? For what I got in mind, I’ll need more space than that.” She informed him how to stop the right window from sticking when the temperature rose, then she waved so long. Pudge helped Baltimore into the back of his roadster and covered his spotted bandages with a blanket, then offered to hang back a few days to see about Etta’s safety. Penny hugged Etta tightly, handed her a note, then she settled into the front seat of the convertible with Jinx and drove away.
Seven miles into their journey, Jinx passed by the bus stop on the way to Union Station. Chozelle sat patiently with a small suitcase at her feet and a pre-paid train ticket to Detroit in her purse. Penny glanced at Jinx when she saw her. He’d noticed too but didn’t blink. “You ain’t got no love left for her?” Penny asked.
“If I did, Chozelle would’ve known I was driving to Detroit and catching a train to Montreal from there. I got who I need with me.” That was good enough for Penny and music to her ears. If it hadn’t been for the roadblock heading out of town, their trip would have gotten off to a beautiful beginning.
“Oh, no, what should we do, Jinxy?” Penny asked, watching the police inspecting one car after the next.
“I think I’ll break line and turn around. Maybe I’ll come back and try again later on.”
“Uh-uh,” Baltimore objected. “You break and they’re liable to come after you. How many cars before they get to us?”
“Uh, six or so,” Jinx answered, counting those ahead of him. “Yeah, six.”
“Good. Don’t get scared and don’t say no more than you have to. Make up something simple if need be, but something believable. Y’all can pull it off, I know you can. Whatever you do, don’t look back here.”
They heard rustling in the rear seat but remained calm like Baltimore demanded. As the convertible approached the blockade, Tasman Gillespie and Clay Sinclair confronted them. “Hey, I know you, boy,” said Gillespie, tired and rattled from the night before. “You’re that nigger going to try out with them Canadian cold fish eaters.”
“Nah, suh, I don’t know nothing about eating on cold fish,” said Jinx, keeping his eyes focused straight ahead.
“I bet you will before long. Who’s this you got with you? She seems kinda young to be taken across state lines. That might pose a problem for those who uphold the Mann Act, prohibiting the interstate transporting of girls for prostitution and/or malicious activity. You got malicious activity on your mind, boy?”
“I only got baseball on my mind, suh,” Jinx replied. “Don’t know what that other thing is you called out.” Clay positioned himself on the other side of the car. Gillespie hadn’t told him his brother was dead and his sister-in-law missing. As far as he knew, Baltimore was as good as dead too, that’s why seeing Jinx driving Baltimore’s fine automobile all the way to Canada didn’t surprise him.
“Hey, Jinx, who’s this young lady?” Clay inquired, with his eyes on the back floor board.
“H—h—her?” he stammered.
“I’m Jinxy’s li’l sister, Penny. Our ma say we can go any goddamned where we damn well please, long as we send her some money when we get there.”
“You’d better keep a muzzle on this sister of yours, boy,” Gillespie ranted, stunned by the girl’s fiery tongue. Clay saw what looked like a pile of white bandages hanging from underneath the rear foldout seat. He was willing to let it pass but then Gillespie caught a glimpse of it. “What the hell is that? Bloody bandages? Clay, go ahead and let up the trunk.”
As Clay circled to the back, he steadied his weapon. He lifted the trunk cover and cautiously recoiled. When he only found luggage, Clay shook his head. “Ain’t nothing here but travel bags and such,” he reported evenly. “Let ’em go. It’s gonna be a long day.”
“Naw, not yet,” Gillespie snarled. He yanked on Baltimore’s bandage. “They’re gonna tell me what this blood soaked cotton is doing back here?”
Penny craned her neck and gawked at Gillespie as if he were an ignorant dolt. “Oh that’s just one of my monthly woman-hole-pluggers, what was meant for the trash heap back yonder. If you don’t watch out, that thing will get to stankin’.” Gillespie shrieked and wiped his hand against his uniform as he released his grasp as quickly as he could. Clay laughed while Gillespie cursed like a drunken sailor.
“Y’all get on outta here before I throw up!” he yelled, looking at his hands as if expecting them to melt after fondling what he thought was a colored girl’s feminine hygiene products.
Jinx was glad to follow his orders to get going but he couldn’t understand what happened to Baltimore. A few miles down the road, he drove the car onto the shoulder of the road. Immediately, there was a thumping sound. Baltimore had wedged himself beneath the folding rear seat, which was also used as a secondary storage unit. He had the foresight to crumple himself inside it but couldn’t muster the strength to let himself out. It ached unmercifully when he spoke up to congratulate Penny for her crafty improvisations. He suggested a future in motion pictures if she had an inclination. “You’re a natural born persuader, Penny King. A natural.” When she turned to thank him, he’d fallen off to sleep, bundled under the blanket.
“Hear that, Jinxy? I’s a natural,” she repeated, wearing a huge screen siren’s smile.
Penny wore that natural smile for three hours until coming to a speck on the map, with a decent amount of colored folk and a midwife, who knew how to properly dress wounds and change bandages. After they’d had a bite to eat and shoved on, Baltimore grew increasingly stronger. They arrived in Detroit by midnight, rented two adjoining rooms in a fancy downtown hotel with a stunning view of Toronto, Canada not five miles away.
On the following day, Delbert read an account of Baltimore’s daring escape in the Comet. The Post-Dispatch merely posted an arrest photo stating the notorious Baltimore Floyd was killed while fleeing capture south of the city. D.A. Dudley Winston wanted the story to disappear the way Baltimore had, even if he had to tell another lie to hasten it on.
Delbert drove to a nice spot along the Mississippi River in his new car to ask Sue’s hand in marriage, nice and proper. Her father had given his blessings and Delbert spent all afternoon shopping for the ring. It was a beautiful white diamond cluster, a real eye-catcher. Of course, Sue said yes, again.
Henry struck a deal with the D.A. and served up Tasman Gillespie on a silver platter for racketeering, drug distribution and breaking Baltimore out of jail with the intent to murder him. Henry’s name was skipped to the top of the detectives’ list, as a shoo-in. When he rolled by Etta’s Fast House, broken and boarded, in his patrol car with his new partner Smiley Tennyson, Henry wanted to pretend it wasn’t once the hottest joint in St. Louis for colored patrons to rub elbows with their heroes, drink like kings and dance like their shoes were on fire. Unfortunately, there was no use in pretending.
His wife Roberta took on a new attitude immediately. She was walking their son to Woolworth’s like she’d always done, when something happened. As two white women sauntered toward her on the sidewalk, they busied themselves with conversation while neglecting to make concessions for the colored woman with her child. Roberta was tired of being invisible. Considering what
her family had experienced during the previous three months, it was high time she be seen and respected. Clutching Denny’s hand, she stood firm, forcing the women to walk around them. The women sneered and Denny did likewise. Not only did it feel liberating but the little boy smiled for the first time since learning of his biological father’s death in the war. That alone made it all worthwhile.
Etta arrived in Detroit in a chauffeur-driven limousine with Baltimore’s money and a wooden storage chest she’d paid Pudge and Dank a hundred dollars apiece to dig up from Penny’s front yard, before they caught an afternoon train to Kansas City. Etta was glad to see everyone had made it there safely, although it was killing her to know what cost two hundred dollars to excavate. Penny eagerly anticipated the opening too. It had to be something important because Halstead beat her for watching him lower it in the hole she was forced to plow. Jinx cried real tears when it turned out to be his family’s missing fortune. He cried again when he was offered a contract to play major league baseball. After all, it was more than just a game, to him, it was sort of like breathing. And boy, how he loved to breathe.
While sitting in a fancy downtown café, Baltimore read over the telegram from Albert Hummel’s office. He learned that there weren’t any outstanding warrants filed for his arrest in the state of Missouri. However, it was made known that he wasn’t welcome back there either. With a bag full of money, his freedom, Penny’s upcoming wedding with Jinx, and Etta getting dangerously anxious and ornery, Baltimore had the waiter pour four glasses of champagne. “I want to propose a toast,” he announced. “Let’s raise our glasses to getting by and good friends,” he cheered, before sharing the thought running circles in his mind. “Y’all, I’ve been doing some thinking on going into business for myself, with a few partners of course. You think they got any Fast Houses around Canada?”
“Probably so,” said Etta. “But not the kind we had back home. I’d bet they could use a proper fire pole in the middle of the floor to stir things up a mite.”
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