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Ninety Days Inside The Empire: A Novel by William Appleman Williams

The Dream and The Reality of Violence

Page 104

Next she reviewed her plan. She first would get Bobby Johnson to talk with Sheriff Tommy Downs, or maybe with one of his deputies like Willie Wyatt or Irv Shelton. Either way, Tommy would come by and tell Lieutenant Wye that he had better talk to Mrs. Warrener because she had complained about him running a commercial business on her property which was against the law. She could handle it after that.

She reopened the diary and reminded herself of when she had gone into the apartment and found the mimeograph machine and copies of "that damn Nigger paper" that was raising such a fuss. Read on to the day she had found that Nigger whore in her kitchen.

-- Time to check my property again.

She called the Wyes, ready to ask Susan along for a visit. Let it ring ten times to make sure no one answered. Just to be safe, however, she walked through the yard checking the windows. She let herself in and began the search.

Twenty minutes later she emerged grim and furious. She had found nothing. No machine, no supplies, no papers. Even the typewriter was gone. Eveline drank her lunch, the first two courses straight from the bottle. The diary offered no help: no Niggers had been around for more than a week. She went to bed.

During the next few days her appearance and manner changed. She no longer invited or drew glances from men. She mumbled and wandered in her conversation, and her friends fretted and hovered about her. Her bridge game, normally keen and ruthless, went to pieces. She talked to herself. Rather, repeated herself to herself.

-- Somehow, I'll get that Lieutenant and his damn Nigger friends. Somehow. Anyway.

She began to fantasize about Cat and Lette.

Two things revived her. The first was the Lieutenant coming by at the end of the week, all clean and neat and smiling, and paying the last month's rent. She did not know that Cohen had offered them a little cottage that he had just finished renovating. It was closer to the base, and only four blocks from the bus line. It might have been better if she had known: adding Jews to Niggers could have sent her back across the line to the benefit of everybody.

The second was Bobby Johnson arriving to tell her about what they'd done to Richie. He was a little bit boozed, but told the story straight enough. The two of them agreed that something had to be done, though they were sober enough not to consider taking on Burton or Crown.

Eveline considered going back to her original plan. She might still get the Lieutenant after the fact. Johnson explained that she had no case, even though Tommy was a friend.

Eveline was resourceful, known for her double finesses to stretch a small slam into a big one.

She took Bobby Johnson to bed.

Not for the first time, though she was selective about that, and without any more bourbon because she wanted a man to perform and be grateful. She had kept Johnson waiting for the next time for quite a spell.

-- Got him stretched like a Nigger up by the thumbs.

Yes, but a bit too much. He went off the first time before he got himself all the way in. She smiled and put her hand on his embarrassment. She was also patient. And in her more raunchy moments prided herself on what she called mouth-to-cock recuperation. The second and third times left them both satisfied, and him very appreciative.

"Don't you think, Bobby, that we ought to do something about Richie?"

"Too late, he's shipped off to Brownsville."

-- Patience, Eveline, patience.

"Well, I was really thinking about sending all those uppity whites and Niggers a message."

Bobby was coming awake, did not know if he liked what he heard.

"No time for killin', Eveline. Things too hot."

"Who's talking killing, Bobby? Those times are gone."

-- Well, mostly.

"So what you thinking?"

"Just what I said: sending a message."

"So who's the messenger?"

"I think Lieutenant Wye would do very nicely, don't you?" Johnson jerked upright. This kind of politics excited him.

"I sure do. You very smart, Eveline. His wife's the one who started that damn paper, and he walked streets for that bastard Clay who hit on Thompson at that meeting. I'll get on it."

"And Bobby, come back so I can thank you."