Now Jamison was talking:
“People started seeing a strange car with a California license plate cruising around at night. They saw it cruising up and down East Boulevard in Baton Rouge only at night. They saw it two or three nights before it stopped and two men got out and came into Jimmy’s liquor store. Bert Robillard—you know how he comes into Jimmy’s all dressed up. Dressed from head to foot—suit, tie, shined shoes—order that one drink and go outside to drink it. Didn’t want to be around those sweaty, noisy niggers inside—would go outside. Goes to two more bars—dressed sharp as a tack—order his drinks and go outside to drink it—every night. He was the first one to notice that strange car; and he was standing outside with his drink when they stopped at Jimmy’s. Each one bought a drink—bourbon and water. They asked Jimmy if Louisiana Roy ever came in there. Jimmy told them he didn’t know any Louisiana Roy. Jimmy asked some other people in the place if they knowed a Louisiana Roy. None of them ever heard of a Louisiana Roy. They went outside and asked Bert Robillard if he knowed a Louisiana Roy. Bert Robillard shook his head. They drove around and visited every colored bar in Baton Rouge—no, nobody knowed a Louisiana Roy. They crossed the river. In Port Arthur, they asked about a Louisiana Roy. Nope. They found Bar One, went in and had a drink. But nobody there knowed Louisiana Roy either.
“To show you how fate work, that same night Jean-Pierre drove up to Bar One. He had to drive around before he could find a parking space. He started to park his car, but he must’ve recognized that other car or that California license plate, because he got out of there quick as he could. Jobbo nephew, Plukum, and that crossed-eye sissy from Loddio they called Cuddles was in the car with him—Cuddles in the backseat.”
“See what I mean, see what I mean,” I could hear behind me. He was talking to himself, but loud enough for me to hear him. “Now a crossed-eye sissy I have to put up with. Boy, you pray to God I never run across you in Natchitoches. I’ll make you pay for what I’m missing tonight.”
Jamison continued:
“They went to all the colored places in Port Arthur. Nobody ever heard of a Louisiana Roy. He’s a tall, dark, brown-skinned fellow, on the slim side? Nope, never heard of him.
“Now they started thinking—maybe there wasn’t a Louisiana Roy. Maybe he had made up that name when he came to California. They knew that he was from somewhere around here. Now they started asking people if they knew a family that had gone to California some years back. Many people had gone to California few years back, the people told them. And people started to get suspicious now—who were those two men? Who was this Louisiana Roy?
“Jean-Pierre didn’t go out anymore. Stayed in his room. Had parked his car in the backyard. That li’l chicken legs gal brought him food and something to drink.
“That sissy from Loddio, Cuddles, and another sissy from Pitcher quarter used to run around together. One night they dropped in at Bar One, and the two fellows from California happened to be standing at the bar. That crossed-eye sissy—in sissy fashion—said, ‘How are you gentlemen tonight? I heard from the grapevine that you two gentlemen are in the avenue of looking for someone? I may be of some assistance.’…All this came out in court…eh, Felix?”
“Truer words never spoken.”
“The two sissies was drinking piña colada—all that came out in court….Right or wrong, Felix?”
“You got it, man.”
“ ‘Of course, it’ll cost you,’ the sissy from Loddio, Cuddles, said.
“ ‘How much?’ the one who got kilt said. He did all the talking. Lawton something, or something Lawton—I know that Lawton was part of his name. The other one was called Fee.
“ ‘I’ll be reasonable,’ the sissy said.
“ ‘Go on,’ Lawton, the one that got kilt, said.
“ ‘What’s the matter with your friend there? Seems like the quiet type. I bet you he can be dangerous.’
“ ‘Oh, Cuddles, stop it,’ the other sissy said. ‘You some crazy.’
“ ‘Go on,’ Lawton said. ‘If it’s the right product, you’ll be paid well. Your friend, too.’
“ ‘Oh, listen to him brag,’ the crossed-eye sissy said.
“The other one patted him on the shoulder again. Them li’l sissy pats—with just the tip of your fingers—not your whole hand.
“ ‘Cuddles, you some crazy,’ he said, in sissy fashion.
“All that came out in court. Them two sissies were dressed to kill—silk slacks, silk shirts, opened collars, silk sport jacket—and you could smell that perfume all over the courtroom.
“Judge Reynolds took off his glasses, blew his breath on them, and wiped them with a Kleenex. All the while he was looking at both—that sissy from Loddio and Brady’s boy from California. Even when he was putting the glasses back on he was looking at them. He took out a little silver snuff case, drew snuff in each nostril, and made a little quiet cough.
“ ‘God bless,’ the Loddio sissy told him.
“He nodded, and told the sissy to go on.
“ ‘I asked him had he considered looking down country roads least traveled—like plantations? He hadn’t. I told him to try it sometime. And I told him that he didn’t have to go any farther west than Bayonne. And I told him, by the way, I have friends who knows how to deal with people who don’t pay up. And I turned to Elly—sitting right over there—his name is Elliot—but we all call him Elly—I said, Elly, service, please. Didn’t I, Elly?’
“ ‘Elly doesn’t have to answer,’ the judge said. ‘You’re excused.’
“ ‘Oh, I can stay longer, if my service is needed.’
“ ‘You’re excused, I’ve heard all I need to hear.’ That sissy got up from his chair, bowed and thank the judge, then he waved to his friends in the courtroom and blew a kiss.
“And if I’m lying, I’m flying. Where you at, Lucas?”
“The truth in every word,” Lucas said.
“Lord, have mercy,” I heard behind me. He was talking to himself. “I want to understand. I really want to understand. I want You to help me understand.”
Jamison never stopped talking:
“They started at Pitcher quarter. ‘A tall, dark, brown-skinned man in his midtwenties?’ Nobody at Pitcher ever heard of him. They went to Loddio. ‘Nope.’ Bergeron, Samson, Hébert, LeJeune, Riehl—‘Nope, nope, nope, nope.’ They didn’t know anybody with that name. They knew couple of Louisiana Slim, couple of Louisiana Red—but no Louisiana Roy.
“But they had a strange feeling when they got to Bergeron—the one who lived told the court. That old fellow at Bergeron—Arthur Simmons—seemed to be hiding something. He looked nervous. They came back, parked on the highway, facing the quarter. That same night that l’il chicken legs white gal brought him some food. They turned down the quarter, lights out, and parked. They saw her go in the yard, and they were pretty sure it was the same place where the old man lived. They sat there and waited.
“Arthur Simmons said he could hear the boy and that little gal in the other room, laughing and talking while he ate his food. Then they lit up a reefer, and the next thing they was on that bed, and that little gal was slamming her leg against that wall like she was trying to tear it down. He said he had heard them on that bed before, but nothing like tonight. When it was over, both of them was breathing hard.
“ ‘What you want tomorrow night?’ she asked him.
“ ‘Same thing I want every night, but you can bring me some fried chicken, too,’ he told her.
“She left. She drove by them sitting in the car in the dark. After she had turned on the highway, they drove down to the house, lights still off. One stood by the steps, and the other one went up on the gallery and knocked on the door—a different door this time. The boy asked who it was.
“The man at the door said, ‘Tony.’
“The boy asked, ‘Tony who?’
“The man said, ‘Tony Young.’
“The boy said he didn’t know a Tony Young. He was buck naked. He grab a pair of pants and jump out of the window. The man on the ground had moved to that side of the house, and grabbed him before he could make a step. The one at the door bust inside. Arthur Simmons, in the other room, pressed one ear to the wall. He could hear the man in the yard saying, ‘Man, hurry, this nigger is buck naked.’
“ ‘Naked?’
“ ‘He thinks he’s a wildcat—biting, scratching, kicking.’
“Arthur Simmons pressed his other ear to the wall. He heard the man in the room saying, ‘I got to find some clothes. I don’t want one of these rednecks stopping us with a naked-ass nigger in the car.’
“The one in the yard said, ‘Just hurry—or I’m go’n have to knock this nigger out.’
“Arthur Simmons switched ears again, and he heard the man inside saying, ‘Don’t kill him. Too Tall wants his money.’
“ ‘Too Tall ain’t trying to hold on to no panther—you sonofabitch, you bit me.’
“ ‘Okay, okay, I’ve got his clothes.’
“Arthur Simmons said the man inside jumped out of the window. He went to the door and cracked it open, and he could see the two men dragging the boy to the car. They threw him in the backseat, and one of them got in the back with him. The other one swung the car around and they shot out of there.
“Arthur Simmons started running up the quarter, calling: ‘Pugg, Pugg—oh, Pugg. Oh, Pugg.’
“Somebody called from one of the galleries: ‘What’s the matter with you, Arthur? Something done happened?’
“Arthur still calling, ‘Oh, Pugg.’ Pugg met him in the yard, wearing overalls—no shirt, no shoes. Arthur Simmons out of breath: ‘Get on your horse, go tell Brady two men done grabbed his boy.’
“Pugg, just in overalls—no shirt, no shoes—put a bridle on Jacob and headed for the fields. It was dark he said, he could see Brady’s head before he could see Brady. Brady was sitting out on the gallery smoking his pipe. Pugg rode up to the gallery.
“ ‘Arthur told me come tell you two men grabbed your boy. Took him in a car somewhere.’
“Pugg said Brady stuffed his pipe with his finger. ‘Figgered it was something like that,’ he said.
“ ‘What you go’n do?’ Pugg asked.
“Brady didn’t answer him.
“ ‘You want me go see if I can’t get Fifty Cent to take me to see Mapes?’
“ ‘Suit yourself. Long as you pay for it.’
“He stuffed his pipe again. Pugg said Brady acted like he wasn’t even there. He said he pulled on the rein, and told Jacob, ‘Come on, Jacob, let’s go home.’ ”