Atlanta Deathwatch

by Ralph Dennis

  “Sit still, white ass,” he said.

  I sat still.

  The one still outside stopped pretending he was trying to cross to the cafe and circled the car. He moved into the back seat, directly behind me. He leaned forward and hooked an arm around my neck. The hard hump of muscle in his forearm almost choked me. “See what he’s carrying.”

  The black with the .32 found the slapjack on the seat and passed it back. “This on the seat.” He patted me down and handed my wallet over the seat back.

  As soon as the black with the .32 moved away from me and was ready, the arm slipped away from my throat. In the back seat he used a pencil flashlight to go through my wallet.

  “Hardman,” he said behind me, “I’ve heard of you. What’s a cop doing in this part of town?”

  I was going to let the mistake ride, but the black on the seat beside me knew better. “He ain’t a cop any more. Got throwed off the force over a year ago.”

  “That so, Hardman?”

  “Yes.”

  There went that small chance of immunity. If they thought I was a cop it might not get too rough. But now they knew better. If I’d been thrown off the force, it wouldn’t bring much heat when something happened to me. The way I’d left, if anything happened to me they might even declare a paid holiday.

  “Hardman, what you doing down here?”

  “Working up nerve enough to go over and order some pig knuckles to go.”

  “That ain’t the answer.” The arm hooked around my throat again. “Ferd!”

  Ferd, the one with the .32, shifted the gun to his left hand and drove his right into my kidney. I wanted to scream, but the hump of muscle choked it off. There was nothing else to do, so I farted.

  “Jesus,” Ferd said, “I think he shit his pants.”

  The arm slacked so I could breathe.

  “Not yet,” I said, “but you keep that up, and . . . ”

  “I’ll make it easy for you,” the one in the back seat said, “You watching the white chick, huh?”

  It was time to make my mind up. I’d probably piss blood in the morning, anyway. A few more blows in the kidney, and I’d end up pissing blood and tissue. It wasn’t worth it.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “For yourself?”

  “No, her daddy. He’s worried about her.”

  “That cunt can take care of herself,” Ferd said, laughing.

  “Watch your mouth,” the other black said.

  Ferd clamped his mouth shut.

  “Maybe you ought to back off from the job.”

  “I think I ought to,” I said.

  “We see you following the girl around again, it won’t be just a talk.”

  “I’m off the job, as of now.”

  “That’s a smart white ass.” The arm tightened around my neck and I was pulled back and up, until I was out of my seat. Ferd worked me over, belly and kidneys and groin. I wanted to vomit, but it was backed up and choked off by the arm at my throat. It wasn’t until they were through and I was slammed forward against the steering wheel that it came gushing out. It splattered all over my pants and shoes and the floorboards.

  “Remember, Hardman.”

  From the headlights and the engine noises, I knew they’d left. It was half an hour before I could sit up. It was another ten or fifteen minutes before I felt strong enough to drive. I didn’t think I could make it to my house, so I drove over to Hump’s apartment. I leaned against the wall in the entrance hall and pressed the buzzer until Hump came down the stairs and got me.

  I think I slept for a time in the tub. Then it was a struggle to straighten myself out, and a harder one to step from the tub onto the bath mat. I was shaking all over when I dried off, and got into one of Hump’s oversized terry cloth robes. Before I left the bathroom, I tried to pull the plug and let the bath water out, but I found I couldn’t lean over that far and had to leave it.

  Hump was in the kitchen with a bottle of J&B. He got a glass for me, and I eased into a chair across from him. Hump’s coal-black and six-six, and weighs on the order of two hundred and seventy. He was a defensive end at Michigan State and later with Cleveland. In his fourth year of pro ball he tore up a knee and the operation didn’t restore it all the way. He’d lost a lot of his speed and quickness, and pro ball was out. He drifted down to Atlanta and did some coaching at one of the small black colleges in town. He gave that up after a couple of years because the pay wasn’t much. Now he did whatever came along. Dirty or clean, it didn’t matter to him. Since I felt the same way the last year or so, it was a common bond of sorts.

  I met Hump two years ago, while I was still on the force, working nights. I’d gone to check into a brawl that had been reported at the Blue Light. The fight was over when I got there. Three black studs were spread all over the floor and Hump, barely sweating, was seated at the bar drinking draft beer.

  “Those boys tried to have some fun on me,” Hump said.

  It seemed that the shortest of the three had started it by looking up at Hump and asking how the weather was up there. Hump had spit in his eye and said that it was raining. That was when the fight broke out. From the way Hump looked, it hadn’t been a long fight. I remembered Hump from a game I’d seen him play against the Falcons, and I had a beer with him while we waited for the paddy wagon. The nervous owner told the story the same way Hump did, and when the wagon came I sent the three busted-up studs off to jail. They didn’t argue at all. Jail was better than staying in the bar where Hump was.

  In the year since I’d been thrown off the force, Hump and I had worked a few deals together. When he needed money and I needed a back-up man, I’d call him. If I had a friend left in Atlanta, it was probably Hump. But I’d never said anything like that to him. There was always the chance that he didn’t feel that way about me at all.

  Hump poured me a shot of the J&B. “I looked in your car. The slapjack’s gone. The wallet’s there, but there’s no money in it.”

  “There wasn’t much to start with,” I said. “Fifteen bucks maybe.”

  “I left the windows open to air it out,” he said.

  I sipped at the J&B.

  “You want to look around for these boys?”

  “Not tonight,” I said. “Maybe not ever.”

  He nodded, like that made sense to him. “You owe me one bit of trim for the one you chased away.”

  My memory was a bit blurred. Then, with the time screwed up, like it had happened a week ago, I remembered the girl with frizzy blonde hair who’d peeped out of the bedroom when Hump carried me into the bathroom. She looked like a hippie chick from around the tight-squeeze area.

  “I owe you one, then.”

  “One whiff of you,” Hump said, “and she remembered she had to be home.”

  On my third drink, I felt good enough to stagger over to the phone and make two calls. The first one was to Arch Campbell. I told him I’d been called out of town suddenly and I wouldn’t be able to follow up on the job. I let him know that all I’d found out was that she was hanging out in some pretty rough bars. He said he’d send me a check for the one day’s work.

  My second call was to Raymond Hutto at the Schooner Topless Bar. When Hump heard me ask for Raymond, he came over and stood just past my shoulder, listening.

  All I said to Raymond was that I was available. He said for me to drop by the Schooner at three the next afternoon. He might have something for me by then.

  Hump was waiting when I hung up.

  “You doing anything the next day or so?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “I thought we might make a run to New York.”

  “Hardman,” he said, smiling, “that’s as good as trim, any day.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Three days later, I caught the noon flight from Hartsfield to LaGuardia. My round-trip ticket scheduled a morning return flight two days later. Since it was Raymond’s money I went first class, and had the two drinks of scotch that came with the seat, and took a nap until
the plane went into its landing pattern. Hump was already in New York. He’d taken a flight that left Atlanta five hours earlier. Hump knew the drill we’d set up, and I felt a lot better knowing that Hump was in the background watching me.

  The airport bus dropped me at Grand Central. I caught a cab to the Barclay Hotel, where a reservation had been made for me by Raymond. I cancelled the reservation, explaining that I’d be staying with friends instead. I put a five on the clerk.

  “There might be a message for me.”

  There’d be another five for him if he’d take the message. Then I had a cab drop me at Sheridan Square. I waited in front of the United Cigar stand until Hump came by in a cab and picked me up.

  “You sure all this shucking and jiving all over town is worth it?” he asked.

  “So far it is.”

  “We’ll see.” Hump gave directions to the cabbie and he picked his way through the screwed-up streets of the Village and over into the East Village.

  It was a three-flight walk-up, a studio apartment. Hump had a key. He knocked and, when there wasn’t an answer, he opened the door and motioned me inside. “The trim must still be out buying groceries with Sweet Raymond’s money.”

  The phone was in the bedroom, on the floor. I sat on the edge of the rumpled bed and lifted the phone to my knee. Hump came in and made a fuss over the bed covers, as if straightening up.

  “That girl’s not neat,” he said.

  I grinned at him, knowing, and dialed Eastern Airlines.

  “Well, I had to wake her up,” Hump said.

  The reservation clerk found us a flight back to Atlanta at six-ten the next morning. I made the reservations in my name and Hump’s.

  He watched me. “We change the drill this time?”

  “Might as well.” The times before, Hump had gone back on the flight just before mine. He’d wander around Hartsfield and, if the way seemed clear, he’d get my car from the parking lot and be waiting when I came out. With that drill established, I thought it was time to change, just in case somebody had worked out our pattern.

  We were having a beer in the kitchen when Hump’s trim came in with a double armful of grocery bags. The girl, Lena, seemed surprised that I was white, and her hello was a little choked. I understood it because I’d seen the newspapers and pamphlets stacked around the apartment. She just didn’t like whites. There wasn’t any reason she had to, but it was going to make for a long night. I resigned myself to it and drank my beer. Hump helped her put the groceries away. When she went into the bedroom he followed her and closed the door. I couldn’t hear what Hump was saying, but he was saying most of it.

  Hump came out first. He put on his topcoat. “I’m going down to the corner for a bottle of J&B.”

  Lena came out of the bedroom a few minutes after he left. She’d changed to jeans and a print shirt. She was a pretty little thing, with skin the color of aged ivory. For a long time she just looked at me, as if she wanted to say something but the words wouldn’t come out. Then an “ah, shit!” exploded off her lips. “If Hump says you’re all right, I guess you have to be.”

  When Hump came back grinning sheepishly, the static was gone and she was telling me how she had met Hump. It was a comic encounter between Hump, the predatory man, and Lena, the N.Y.U. graduate student, at a party in Harlem. While she acted out the parts, what he said and what she said, Hump sat on the arm of her chair and ran his hand lightly over her shoulders. Hump didn’t say anything, so I told about my first meeting with him at the Blue Light. When I changed the three black studs to five, he gave me a slow, sleepy wink past her shoulder.

  At six I called the Barclay and found I had a message. I left Hump and Lena watching TV. and caught a cab. I had the cabbie wait for me and went inside. I gave the clerk the other five and got a folded sheet of memo paper. There was nothing on it but a printed PLEASE CALL and a number. I used one of the pay phones in the lobby.

  “Yeah?”

  “Man here from out of town.”

  He said, “Wellington Cinema at ten, back row.”

  We both hung up at the same time.

  Just before the cab reached the apartment, I told the cabbie to stop in front of a small bar. I hadn’t been gone very long, and I wanted Hump and Lena to have some time to themselves. It was a shorter trip than usual, and there wasn’t any reason to ruin Hump’s fun.

  Exactly at ten I bought a ticket at the Wellington Cinema. I stood in the aisle until my eyes were accustomed to the darkness. That took a minute or two. On the screen a young man was shaking his hard-on at a fat-assed young girl who seemed frightened of it. It was large enough to be frightening. The back row was empty except for a single man. He was eating popcorn, the popcorn box balanced across his knees on a Samsonite briefcase. I moved down the row and sat down next to him. He turned slowly to look at me. His mouth was stuffed, slobbering over the popcorn.

  “I’m Hardman.”

  He nodded. “You look like your picture.” He slid the briefcase from his knees and placed it on the floor between us. He choked down the mouthful of popcorn and leaned toward me. “I thought I’d better warn you. There have been two hijacks in the last month.”

  “I’m warned.” I got out the envelope of cash and slapped it against his leg. His hand caught it. Without another word, he got up and moved away from me, down the row and out the opposite exit. I waited until I counted off a slow hundred, and then I went out too.

  If it was going to happen at all, I knew that it would have to happen right away. They wouldn’t want to take a chance on me getting too far away from the skin-movie house before they made their try. They might lose me, and New York was a great city to stay lost in.

  The briefcase made me stand out. At ten o’clock at night, I had to be the only shit walking around with a Samsonite in his hand. That was what bothered me. What made me feel good was that Hump, looking like the drunkest black ever, was staggering along after me, hitting all the lamps and walls as he came. Lena was with him, acting out the suffering wife who was trying to get her bad-ass husband home.

  I could hear her embarrassed whispering. “Ernie, please, come on. The police are going to get you if you don’t walk right.”

  And his angry reply: “Fuck off, bitch.”

  “Ernie, please don’t talk like that.”

  I might have enjoyed the game-play if two men hadn’t stepped out of the dark doorway ahead of me and moved in my direction. They were both big studs, and I thought, Oh, God! and my beat-up body began to ache with the memory of what Ferd had done to it. Skin started to sting again and the kidney pulsed a bit to let me know it hadn’t forgotten.

  Hump, I was thinking, stop all that play-acting and pay some attention.

  As the two men closed on me, they divided so that they had me flanked. The man on my left had a slick-smooth scar under his right eye and a mashed left ear. The man to my right was younger and hadn’t been around long enough to show the mileage yet.

  “Hardman?” the young one asked.

  Before I could answer, I heard Lena raise her voice behind me. “Ernie, you slow down, you hear me?”

  “Just one more drink,” Hump said.

  The older man, the one with the battered face, looked up at the voices and he began a smile, as if he was about to say something about drunk spades. At that moment, Hump barreled into him. I heard him grunt as the wind went out of him and he smacked the wall. The young man was stunned only for a split second, and then his hand went for his raincoat pocket. It never got there. I was that split second ahead of him, and had one of my hard-toed shoes back and ready. I kicked him in the shin hard enough to break the bone. I didn’t hear it break because, by the time it landed, Hump was through with the first man. He lunged past me and a black hand about the size of a ham hit the man on the side of his head. He went down fast and bounced off the side of a car fender. Just to be sure, I stepped forward and kicked him once in the balls.

  A block away, I flagged down a cab. Lena wasn’t over the
shock yet. I could feel her trembling next to me. Hump put an arm around her and whispered in her ear. “There wasn’t no reason to worry. Those were real candy-asses.”

  On the way back to Lena’s apartment, we changed cabs twice. Hump thought it was a lot of trouble for nothing, but he didn’t say so. He knew it was the drill. No matter what happened, we followed the drill.

  We got back to the apartment in time for the evening news. Lena fixed us a late snack, and Hump got out the J&B. It was a long wait until the time to leave for the airport. Lena and Hump went into the bedroom, and I settled down to watch a couple of the late movies.

  Around four the next morning, Lena called us a cab. I waited outside in the hall while they said their good-byes. I gave her a little wave, and we went downstairs to wait for the cab. A few minutes later, we were on our way to LaGuardia.

  “You think it’s done?” Hump asked.

  I nodded. “It was probably that shit in the movie house. Wanted to sell it twice. Wanted Raymond’s money and somebody else’s.”