The mark stared luminous gray eyes at me and nodded. Could he be the vengeance hungry father of some long ago doll I’d ‘turned out’ and he was trying to place me?
I glanced around us suspiciously, and with a sigh of relief, I said to Willie, ‘Mr Ell . . .’
Willie cut me off and said, ‘I’m Mr Jackson.’
I said, ‘Joe Franklin is pleased to make both your acquaintances. I’m happy, happy, two colored gentlemen, with mother-wit, saw me instead of two mean white folks. I been knowing all my life, good advice comes from good people, and should be rewarded . . .’
Willie cut in, ‘Hold on there, Franklin! We didn’t advise you to share in your good luck . . . did we, Mr Ellis?’
The mark’s heavy blue lips pulled back in a twisted little smile. Disgust at Willie’s remark wrinkled his ebonic brow. In a high pitched voice, eerily issuing from his six-six, two-hundred fifty pound frame, he squealed, ‘We surely didn’t . . .’
I said, ‘Hush up, Mr Ellis! I won’t let you talk me out of it. Friends, we gonna share equally fifteen bucks or fifteen thousand bucks.’
I gave them a flash of apparent long green stuff inside the bulgy hide.
Willie said, ‘You’ve hit the jackpot! Let’s move! The white man is positively gonna miss that load of cash!’
We steered the mark to a bench on the strip of grass that ran down the center of the boulevard. I started to examine the wallet’s contents. I let excitement make me drop it. Willie scooped it up and turned away from the mark’s ravenous eyes.
I stared at the mark’s flat, brutish profile. I recognized him! . . . from somewhere long ago!
The big vein on the mark’s neck ballooned when he saw Willie let fall and retrieve our lone ‘C’ note before he handed the wallet back to me. Willie exclaimed, ‘This damn thing is packed with hundred dollar bills!’
Willie gave me an evil eye because I was a split instant tardy delivering the next line. My mind was at the brink of recalling the where-and-when about the mark.
I said, ‘That white man is a big time something.’
Willie said, ‘He could be a crooked high roller.’
I said, ‘Maybe the money is stolen, or even counterfeit . . . What we gonna do?’
Willie said, ‘The money’s real, but we need the help of some big shot colored man or understanding white one. Now about you, Mr Ellis, you know some big shot we can trust?’
Before the mark answered, I snapped my fingers and said, ‘I got somebody! My boss, Mr Gilbranski. We can trust him because he loves colored folks for sure. He’s been married to one for twenty years. He’s got a fine suite of offices two blocks around the corner in the Milford Building. My stars, I just remember I was on an errand for Mr Gilbranski when we had our good luck. You good people wait right here. My boss will solve our problem so we can split safe and fair.’
After I left, Willie would say, ‘Mr Ellis, I think we’ve found a pure-in-heart man and a small fortune. If he’s not pure and doesn’t show back here, we can’t lose what we never had.’
I drank greasy spoon coffee for fifteen minutes before I came back to the mark’s wide girn. The mark’s relaxed face jibbled a bit of the puzzle into place! OHIO! DEATH!
I pumped their hands and said, ‘Good People, I knew my boss is a sweetheart! The wallet belonged to a racist politician he despises. He’s ready to give us equal shares of the eighteen thousand in small bills.’
I paused and chuckled, ‘So, he couldn’t have no reason what-so-ever not to help us, I fibbed and told him two kinfolks was in on my good luck. He knows I’ve only got two kin in the world, my Uncle Otis and Aunt Lula, both he’s never seen . . . He ain’t gonna hassle us. He just wants to meet you and find out you’re people with mother-wit, and won’t go crazy with the money and get him in a squeeze for coming to our rescue.’
Then I said, ‘He’s awaiting on the ninth floor of the Milford Building.’
Willie touched the mark’s arm and they started to walk away.
I said loudly, ‘What you gentlemen gonna do, make me out a liar and fix it so my boss won’t help us? I told you he knows all the kin I got is Uncle Otis and Aunt Lula. Mr Ellis ain’t no woman.’
Willie shook the mark’s hand and said, ‘Mr Ellis, rest easy! The same arrangements I make for me, I’ll make for you!’
I said, ‘Don’t you think you oughtta tell the boss the excitement is got old Aunt Lula feeling poorly, so she went home to rest?’
While Willie was gone, I brought the mythical office and boss to life for the mark with detailed description. Willie returned breathlessly reinforcing my wonderful boss and his luxurious office.
Willie said, ‘Mr Gilbranski liked me, and loves you! He was sold on my levelheadness when I was able to put up the four thousand dollars from the sale of my farm as proof I’m used to big money. He’s satisfied I wouldn’t cause him no scandal. He told me he’d trust you with his life. He said tell you, he takes care of business inside the office and you take care of me and Aunt Lula . . . I mean Mr Ellis, outside the office.’
I left to bring back Willie’s and the mark’s shares. At least, the mark was expecting his. When I got back, I gave Willie a manila envelope, fat with greenbacks rolled around the boodle of play money.
Willie frowned and said with great annoyance, ‘Where the hell is Mr Ellis’ share?’
I shrugged and said, ‘Mr Gilbranski said every tub must sit on its own foundation and make its own strong bond good faith. Aunt Lula . . . I mean Mr Ellis ain’t showed his good faith in the right way.’
Willie said huffily, ‘Since Mr Ellis’ share ain’t here, take it all back! It ain’t right to have mine and he don’t have his.’
I said, ‘I didn’t say Mr Ellis couldn’t get his share. All he’s got to do is satisfy the boss he’s a solid citizen like you did.’
The mark’s eyes were spewing gray fire as he flung back his overcoat to reveal what could only be the handle of a handaxe protruding from his benny’s inside pocket.
He blurted out, ‘Mr Jackson sure spoke the truth. I’ve already decided none of us is getting a share unless I get mine . . . I’ll be back in two minutes, so stay here on the bench!’
Willie and I looked at each other. At this most delicate juncture, Willie was supposed to go with the mark to get his cash bond.
As we watched the mark unlock the trunk of a new Buick across the street, I said, ‘Willie, we oughtta cut this one loose!’
Willie said, ‘Shit, I got a feeling he’s gonna be sweet as bee pussy. I’d play for the motherfucking devil today!’
I feverishly tried to tie the mark to some celebrated axe murder in Ohio long ago. The mark returned and counted out a stack of ‘C’ notes. As I was stuffing the entire three grand score into my overcoat pocket, the mark vised my shoulders and balefully stared into my eyes.
He said, ‘Please! Mr Franklin, don’t take my money to that peckerwood if you ain’t damn sure he’s on the dead level!’
I said, ‘He’s famous for shooting straight in business and everywhere.’
He released me and giggled, ‘So am I famous . . . for shooting straight!’
I felt a bowel-gasket about to pop. As I turned away on Jello-legs, I suddenly remembered all of the mark’s grisly infamy. He’d been a construction worker, who around twelve years before had riddled two men at a poker table for cheating.
For a week, the Cleveland police put his mug shots in all the newspapers and cautions on all radio stations. A hundred