Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 52, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2007
- Автор: Baldwin Barry, Campbell Melodie
- Год: 2007
- Язык: английский
- Год: Dell Magazines
- ISBN: ISSN:0002-5224
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Alfred Hitchcock’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 52, No. 7 & 8, July/August 2007». Краткое содержание книги:
McPhail was a dumb sonuvabitch. They didn’t stick cops like him in Harlem as a reward. They were laughing at him. McPhail had told them who had sent him over there.
Eventually McPhail swaggered his way back to the bar and started gobbling down more free drinks and food.
“They’re businessmen,” he announced, while stuffing his mouth with hors d’oeuvres. “You ought to be glad they’re over here putting money in your colored businesses. They could take their money somewhere else where they’re appreciated.”
The four men left shortly afterward. An uneasy feeling remained with German, however. The balding man’s eyes never left him until they had gone.
“You seem to have developed an unusual interest in me, Mr. Johnson.”
A week had passed and they were back at the restaurant again. The balding man’s gaze was riveting; his eyes would not let German Johnson escape.
German fidgeted uncomfortably as he tried to formulate a response to the unexpected remark. Burning in his mind was the realization that the man had taken the time to remember his name.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” he replied lamely.
“Of course you do,” the man said. His voice exuded smug confidence while projecting an undercurrent of condescension. There was an element of darkness about him that German had seen before. It lay in that superior attitude others like him wore on their chests like medals of honor. But why come all the way to Harlem every week if that was the attitude they harbored? There were plenty of other places to eat in New York City.
Somehow German Johnson muddled his way through the evening. The man with the burning eyes attacked him with a silent malevolence. His gaze seemed to follow German throughout the room. Was it real or was it his insecurity? He continued to serve the four men while gingerly avoiding conflict. By the end of the evening he was convinced that he would have to convey his suspicions to someone of substance.
Waking up with Angelina was the most exhilarating part of German’s life. She hugged him warmly and bathed his face with loving kisses.
“I’ve got to go,” she finally said. “My mother’s expecting me.”
He released her reluctantly. The mention of her mother made him feel guilty. Rosaria Ruiz was a religious woman who could not understand why a man of integrity would allow her daughter to live in a bond without the blessing of the Church. She never spoke about it, but her body language made her thoughts very clear. German started avoiding her a year ago, but her concerns seldom left his mind.
He and Angelina had settled into a comfortable pattern. It had become easier to continue than to change.
Breakfast odors quickly filled their apartment. Angelina’s thoughts were always of him. She would never leave without bringing him breakfast.
Soon she was there — barefoot and clad in only a loose robe and the pleasant aroma of her morning bath. He wanted her more than the food, but she quickly slipped out of the robe and into her clothes.
“I’ll see you this afternoon,” she said and kissed him briefly before walking away.
“Angie, I love you,” he said.
She stopped and turned toward him with a disarming smile.
“I love you too.”
She started to leave again.
“Angie, I mean I really do love you.”
Curiosity clouded her face. She came back and sat on the edge of the bed. Her dark eyes were trying to read him. She waited patiently for whatever was coming.
“Tell your mother that I’m not such a bad person,” he said.
“Where’d that come from?” she asked. “She doesn’t think that.”
“Yes she does, but she’s not right. I’m gonna do the right thing, Angie. I promise.”
She looked at him intently without speaking.
“Okay,” she whispered simply, and then she was gone.
“Captain Bracken speaking.”
For a moment German wished he hadn’t called, but Bracken was the only person he knew who might believe him. It was only that when it came to Captain Roger Bracken, his emotions got in the way. He disliked Bracken as much as Bracken disliked him. Bracken had disliked all of them.
They had never wanted Negro soldiers in the army, but once in, they certainly didn’t want them in the same units with white soldiers. Of course Negro soldiers couldn’t be in charge of themselves, so the Army chose white officers to command them. Roger Bracken’s fortunes had led him to command a Negro unit. After President Truman integrated the military, Bracken’s unit technically qualified as an integrated unit because he was there, and to his chagrin he remained there.
In a sense, Bracken was as much of a victim as the rest of them. His life hadn’t taken the direction he had planned, and he never learned to deal with it, but then neither had the Army.
“Captain Bracken, this is Sergeant Johnson.”
“Who?”
“Johnson... Sergeant German Johnson.”
“I thought you were out of the Army.”
“I am, but I’ve seen something, and I think it may be important. I think it’s connected to our mission.”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“Captain Bracken... Captain Bracken. You still there?”
German could hear Bracken sigh over the phone.
“Captain, I’ve seen men here in New York that...”
“Look, Johnson,” Bracken interrupted. “I don’t care what you’ve seen. I don’t want to hear from you. Keep your ass in New York and away from me. Whatever problems you people have up there, they’re your problems. Go tell it to that Garvey fellow. I just don’t give a damn.”
Bracken hung up before German Johnson could absorb the shock of his remarks.
German Johnson stood there holding the dead phone. What the hell was he thinking? It had been a white man’s war, and this was a white man’s problem. Who was he anyway, America’s defender? He couldn’t even get a decent job or make enough money to provide for a family. How could a man ask a woman to marry him on an income derived from two-dollar tips.
German went to work early in the afternoon before Angelina returned. He was still seething from his conversation with Bracken and hoped to work off some of his frustration before the customers arrived.
He could hardly keep his mind on his work. Every negative thought he ever had boiled up inside of him — every muddy road he had dug for the Army, every job that he couldn’t get, every time someone had looked at his face and assumed they had the right to demean him.
The evening passed quickly. Business at The Royce was brisk and steady. German kept his eyes peeled for the four white men who frequented the restaurant, but they didn’t appear, and he was happy about that. These men and their peculiarities were something that he wanted to escape. He wanted to go on with his life without worrying about unfounded suspicions.
The final customers left at two A.M., and German took the long walk back to his apartment.
The flashing light garnered his attention as soon as he had rounded the corner. Police cars and ambulances were such a common part of the Harlem landscape that they were almost unnoticeable. For some reason, a feeling of dread smothered him when he saw them on this night. As he drew closer, he realized that the commotion was in front of his apartment.
He began to run the final block. He bounded into the apartment building with his heart pounding and his mouth dry.
The stairs were congested with policemen as he reached the third floor. They were at his door.
“What has happened? This is my place! What has happened?” he cried.
Two uniformed officers restrained him while a plainclothed officer approached.