999_ Twenty-Nine Original Tales of Horror and Suspense - Al Sarrantonio [265]
“Hey,” I whispered. “Go find your own place.”
“I didn’t know you was under here. It’s too late for me to go anywhere.”
“Then be quiet,” I said.
While we were sitting there, we saw shoes and pants legs moving toward the porch steps. It was the men who had been standing out in the yard smoking. They were gathering on the porch to talk. I recognized a pair of boots as Daddy’s, and after a bit of moving about on the porch above us, we heard the porch swing creak and some of the porch chain scraping around, and then I heard Cecil speak.
“How long she been dead?”
“About a week I reckon,” Daddy said.
“She anyone we know?”
“A prostitute,” Daddy said. “Janice Jane Willman. She lives near all them juke joints outside of Mission Creek. She picked up the wrong man. Ended up in the river.”
“She drown?” someone else asked.
“Reckon so. But she suffered some before that.”
“You know who did it?” Cecil asked. “Any leads?”
“No. Not really.”
“Niggers.” I knew that voice. Old Man Nation. He showed up wherever there was food and possibly liquor, and he never brought a covered dish or liquor. “Niggers find a white woman down there in the bottoms, they’ll get her.”
“Yeah,” I heard a voice say. “And what would a white woman be doin’ wanderin’ around down there?”
“Maybe he brought her there,” Mr. Nation said. “A nigger’ll take a white woman he gets a chance,” Mr. Nation said. “Hell, wouldn’t you if you was a nigger? Think about what you’d be gettin’ at home. Some nigger. A white woman, that’s prime business to ‘em. Then, if you’re a nigger and you’ve done it to her, you got to kill her so no one knows. Not that any self-respectin’ white woman would want to live after somethin’ like that.”
“That’s enough of that,” Daddy said.
“You threatenin’ me?” Mr. Nation said.
“I’m sayin’ we don’t need that kind of talk,” Daddy said. “The murderer could have been white or black.”
“It’ll turn out to be a nigger,” Mr. Nation said. “Mark my words.”
“I heard you had a suspect,” Cecil said.
“Not really,” Daddy said.
“Some colored fella, I heard,” Cecil said.
“I knew it,” Nation said. “Some goddamn nigger.”
“I picked a man up for questioning, that’s all.”
“Where is he?” Nation asked.
“You know,” Daddy said, “I think I’m gonna have me a piece of that pie.”
The porch creaked, the screen door opened, and we heard boot steps entering into the house.
“Nigger lover,” Nation said.
“That’s enough of that,” Cecil said.
“You talkin’ to me, fella?” Mr. Nation said.
“I am, and I said that’s enough.”
There was some scuttling, movement on the porch, and suddenly there was a smacking sound and Mr. Nation hit the ground in front of us. We could see him through the steps. His face turned in our direction, but I don’t think he saw us. It was dark under the house, and he had his mind on other things. He got up quick like, leaving his hat on the ground, then we heard movement on the porch and Daddy’s voice. “Ethan, don’t come back on the porch. Go on home.”
“Who do you think you are to tell me anything?” Mr. Nation said.
“Right now, I’m the constable, and you come up on this porch, you do one little thing that annoys me, I will arrest you.”
“You and who else?”
“Just me.”
“What about him? He hit me. You’re on his side because he took up for you.”
“I’m on his side because you’re a loudmouth spoiling everyone else’s good time. You been drinkin’ too much. Go on home and sleep it off, Ethan. Let’s don’t let this get out of hand.”
Mr. Nation’s hand dropped down and picked up his hat. He said, “You’re awfully high and mighty, aren’t you?”
“There’s just no use fighting over something silly,” Daddy said.
“You watch yourself, nigger lover,” Mr. Nation said.
“Don’t come by the barbershop no more,” Daddy said.
“Wouldn’t think of it, nigger lover.”
Then