A Red Death: Featuring an Original Easy Rawlins Short Story "Si (Easy Rawlins Mysteries) by Walter Mosley Read Free Book Online

front door and ask, “Something wrong with the plumbing, Mr. Rawlins?” And I’d tell her that Mofass had me checking on the roof or that Lily Brown had seen a mouse a few weeks back and I was checking the traps. It was always best if I said something about a rodent or bugs, because Mrs. Trajillo was a sensitive woman who couldn’t stand the idea of anything crawling down around the level of her feet.
    Then I’d go upstairs and stand in the window, looking down into the street. Sometimes I’d stand there for an hour and more, watching the cars and clouds making their ways. There was a peaceful feeling about the streets of Los Angeles in those days.
    Everybody on the second floor had a job, so I could sit around the halls all morning and nobody would bother me.
    But that was all over. Just one letter from the government had ended my good life.
    Everybody thought I was the handyman and that Mofass collected the rent for some white lady downtown. I owned threebuildings, the Magnolia Street place being the largest, and a small house on 116th Street. All I had to do was the maintenance work, which I liked because whenever you hired somebody to work for you they always took too long and charged too much. And when I wasn’t doing that I could do my little private job.
    On top of real estate I was in the business of favors. I’d do something for somebody, like find a missing husband or figure out who’s been breaking into so-and-so’s store, and then maybe they could do me a good turn one day. It was a real country way of doing business. At that time almost everybody in my neighborhood had come from the country around southern Texas and Louisiana.
    People would come to me if they had serious trouble but couldn’t go to the police. Maybe somebody stole their money or their illegally registered car. Maybe they worried about their daughter’s company or a wayward son. I settled disputes that would have otherwise come to bloodshed. I had a reputation for fairness and the strength of my convictions among the poor. Ninety-nine out of a hundred black folk were poor back then, so my reputation went quite a way.
    I wasn’t on anybody’s payroll, and even though the rent was never steady, I still had enough money for food and liquor.
    “W HAT YOU MEAN, NOT TODAY ?” Mofass’s deep voice echoed down the stairs. After that came the strained cries of Poinsettia.
    “Cryin’ ain’t gonna pay the rent, Miss Jackson.”
    “I ain’t got it! You know I ain’t got it an’ you know why too!”
    “I know you ain’t got it, that’s why I’m here. This ain’t my reg’lar collectin’ day, ya know. I come to tell you folks that don’t pay up, the gravy train is busted.”
    “I can’t pay ya, Mofass. I ain’t got it and I’m sick.”
    “Lissen here.” His voice dropped a little. “This is my job.
    My money comes from the rent I collect fo’ Mrs. Davenport.
    You see, I bring her a stack’a money from her buildin’s and then she counts it. And when she finishes countin’ she takes out my little piece. Now when I bring her more money I get more, and when I bring in less …”
    Mofass didn’t finish, because Poinsettia started crying.
    “Let me loose!” Mofass shouted. “Let go, girl!”
    “But you promised!” Poinsettia cried. “You promised!”
    “I ain’t promised nuthin’! Let go now!”
    A few moments later I could hear him coming down the stairs.
    “I be back on Saturday, and if you ain’t got the money then you better be gone!” he shouted.
    “You can go to hell!” Poinsettia cried in a strong tenor voice. “You shitty-assed bastard! I’ma call Willie on yo’ black ass. He know all about you! Willie chew yo’ shitty ass off!”
    Mofass came down the stair holding on to the rail. He was walking slowly amid the curses and screams. I wondered if he even heard them.
    “ BASTARD !!” shouted Poinsettia.
    “Are you ready to leave, Mr. Rawlins?” he asked me.
    “I got the first floor