Read Online When the Thrill Is Gone by Walter Mosley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Walter Mosley
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better than anyone.”
“So you’re saying that my son is perfect.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t have that connection that everyone else does,” the astute child whispered. “He, he sees things like they really are. And he isn’t afraid to do what he thinks is right or, no . . . not right but best .”
Yes, I thought, Twill was my father’s ideal revolutionary, a willing passenger on that dinghy I left without mooring.
I stood up, headed for my inner sanctum. It wasn’t until some time later that I realized I hadn’t thanked Mardi for her insights and labors.
13
BY EARLY AFTERNOON I was standing in front of the municipal courthouse downtown, waiting. I had on one of my four darkblue all-purpose suits and size twelve triple-E dullish, black leather shoes. My white shirt had grayed a bit after hundreds of washings at Lin Pao’s French Cleaners, and one of my socks was black while the other was dark brown. I’d become the downtrodden workingman that my father always wanted me to be—but with a twist.
I was also a predator that lived on the invisible ether of personal information. Not digital bullshit, I stalked people’s souls, took from them their most precious possessions, their secrets. And even though I performed this heinous job day in and day out, still I would have called myself rehabilitated—a simple wretch who had once been a monster.
What was I doing there, on the street, waiting? I wasn’t sure. In the past forty-eight hours I’d collected twenty-two thousand dollars in advances to protect a woman I had not met from a man who might be in love with her. A working-class hero from my father’s cracked pantheon would never work on such a project. Realizing this, I smiled, feeling that I’d dodged the revolutionary’s bullet—at last.
At that very moment I looked up and saw a young milk-chocolate-brown man clad in a fancy suit of synthetic olivegreen snakeskin coming down the broad concrete staircase. He was skipping happily, moving fast. He, like I did, felt that he was getting out of a bad situation. I wondered, as I moved to block his egress, if I was as misguided as he.
“Tally Chambers?” I said in a mild voice.
“Say what?” His grin disappeared like a small white rabbit down a deep dark hole.
“My name’s Leonid McGill,” I said quickly. “Your sister Shawna hired me. She gave me the money to pay your bail.”
“Shawna?” he said, stopping in spite of all instinct.
“Your other sister, Chrystal, is missing and Shawna felt that you might be able to help finding her.”
Tally Chambers’ hair was close-cropped and his head was sleek, styled for speed. He eyed me, wanting to run, but worried about his sisters and, on top of that, wondering how money was traveling through their hands into mine.
“I don’t understand,” he said truthfully.
“Shawna came to my office and said that Chrystal had disappeared,” I said in my most effective, matter-of-fact tone. “She, Shawna, said that she was worried that Chrystal’s husband had either killed her or that she was so scared of him that she ran to ground.”
“How much Shawna pay you?”
“She gave me twelve thousand. I used eleven hundred to pay ten percent of your bail.”
“Shit.” Tally swayed away from me, ready to walk on.
I touched his arm with a blunt finger and said, “Chrystal gave Shawna a ruby and emerald necklace that she sold to a woman named Nunn from Indiana.”
That stopped him.
“No.”
“Hey, man. I’m all up in your family business. I’m not trying to hurt you. Does anybody hate you enough to go into debt eleven thousand dollars over your bond?”
For a few moments he took the question seriously. Was there someone who’d pay good money to have him hurt or killed? Was there?
“You know there isn’t, Tally,” I said to the unspoken question.
I was a mind reader, and he a true believer. We made a connection and now all I needed were his secrets.
“So what is
“So you’re saying that my son is perfect.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because he doesn’t have that connection that everyone else does,” the astute child whispered. “He, he sees things like they really are. And he isn’t afraid to do what he thinks is right or, no . . . not right but best .”
Yes, I thought, Twill was my father’s ideal revolutionary, a willing passenger on that dinghy I left without mooring.
I stood up, headed for my inner sanctum. It wasn’t until some time later that I realized I hadn’t thanked Mardi for her insights and labors.
13
BY EARLY AFTERNOON I was standing in front of the municipal courthouse downtown, waiting. I had on one of my four darkblue all-purpose suits and size twelve triple-E dullish, black leather shoes. My white shirt had grayed a bit after hundreds of washings at Lin Pao’s French Cleaners, and one of my socks was black while the other was dark brown. I’d become the downtrodden workingman that my father always wanted me to be—but with a twist.
I was also a predator that lived on the invisible ether of personal information. Not digital bullshit, I stalked people’s souls, took from them their most precious possessions, their secrets. And even though I performed this heinous job day in and day out, still I would have called myself rehabilitated—a simple wretch who had once been a monster.
What was I doing there, on the street, waiting? I wasn’t sure. In the past forty-eight hours I’d collected twenty-two thousand dollars in advances to protect a woman I had not met from a man who might be in love with her. A working-class hero from my father’s cracked pantheon would never work on such a project. Realizing this, I smiled, feeling that I’d dodged the revolutionary’s bullet—at last.
At that very moment I looked up and saw a young milk-chocolate-brown man clad in a fancy suit of synthetic olivegreen snakeskin coming down the broad concrete staircase. He was skipping happily, moving fast. He, like I did, felt that he was getting out of a bad situation. I wondered, as I moved to block his egress, if I was as misguided as he.
“Tally Chambers?” I said in a mild voice.
“Say what?” His grin disappeared like a small white rabbit down a deep dark hole.
“My name’s Leonid McGill,” I said quickly. “Your sister Shawna hired me. She gave me the money to pay your bail.”
“Shawna?” he said, stopping in spite of all instinct.
“Your other sister, Chrystal, is missing and Shawna felt that you might be able to help finding her.”
Tally Chambers’ hair was close-cropped and his head was sleek, styled for speed. He eyed me, wanting to run, but worried about his sisters and, on top of that, wondering how money was traveling through their hands into mine.
“I don’t understand,” he said truthfully.
“Shawna came to my office and said that Chrystal had disappeared,” I said in my most effective, matter-of-fact tone. “She, Shawna, said that she was worried that Chrystal’s husband had either killed her or that she was so scared of him that she ran to ground.”
“How much Shawna pay you?”
“She gave me twelve thousand. I used eleven hundred to pay ten percent of your bail.”
“Shit.” Tally swayed away from me, ready to walk on.
I touched his arm with a blunt finger and said, “Chrystal gave Shawna a ruby and emerald necklace that she sold to a woman named Nunn from Indiana.”
That stopped him.
“No.”
“Hey, man. I’m all up in your family business. I’m not trying to hurt you. Does anybody hate you enough to go into debt eleven thousand dollars over your bond?”
For a few moments he took the question seriously. Was there someone who’d pay good money to have him hurt or killed? Was there?
“You know there isn’t, Tally,” I said to the unspoken question.
I was a mind reader, and he a true believer. We made a connection and now all I needed were his secrets.
“So what is
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